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greenorangevioletgrass · 3 years

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it will come back (richkid!haz + tom x reader)

"I know who I am when I'm alone; I'm something else when I see you. You don't understand, you should never know how easy you are to need." - Hozier, It Will Come Back

AU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

summary: Harrison insists Y/N is a great shag and nothing more. Tom joins in on the fun and proves him right and wrong at the same time.

pairing: richkid!haz x actor!tom x reader

word count: 4,902

notes: this is.... just a pure mess of filth. this is set before angel of small death, but can be read as a standalone. big thanks to @tommysparker and @shipping-not-sailing for enduring all the pestering and giving me mad ideas and have you seen @uglypastels' AMAZING FANART (open it for a surprise)??? y'all are amazing ilysm <3

warnings: enemies to lovers, past & present fwb dynamics, language, drinking, jealousy, so much yearning holy shit, SMUT (threesome (mmf), oral (m&f receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, anal fingering, rimming, anal sex, protected sex, dirty talk, choking, kiiind of hate sex? it's filthy pls read at your own discretion)

***

Paris, February 2019.

If there's one thing Harrison loves more than Fashion Week, it's the Fashion Week after-parties. After hordes and hordes of luxury pieces to wear, there’s plenty of lavish extravaganza to be had. Right now, he’s treading among marble sculptures in some chateau just outside of Paris, clad in a masterfully crafted suit, mingling with models, fashionistas, and fellow jetsetters of the world.

Except for one.

"Ugh, there she is." he scoffs into his champagne flute.

Next to him, Tom scans around the room. “Who?”

He follows Harrison’s gaze to the woman next to the statue of Persephone eating her pomegranate. She wouldn’t look so out of place next to these sculptures if it weren’t for the colors she’s rocking. Her lips glow red like she’s the one who took a bite of the fruit. The bubbles in her champagne are like specks of gold, and the sequins are specks of stars in her indigo blue dress.

“Ah. The love of your life.” Tom side-eyes him cheekily.

“Fuck off. No, she’s not!” Harrison retorts way too quick and aggressive. Then, he continues, without taking his eyes off of her, “I can’t even stand her. That girl’s a bitch and a half.”

Tom only laughs. "You say that now…”

Harrison lightly shoves him in the arm. "The hell does that mean?”

“Oh, please. I know you guys are fucking around.”

“What?” Harrison tries to play it cool, but he knows there’s no coming back from that. He’s been made.

Tom leans against the bar, now rocking a smug ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk. “You sneak away and she sneaks away and then you guys always come back a little flushed… it’s not that hard to figure out, bro.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I like her. I mean, look at her!” Harrison insists. “With her snooty voice and that fake laugh and her stupid dress…”

Tom shakes his head. "If you hate her so much, why do you keep coming back to her?"

"Honestly?" He takes a deep breath, and for the first time throughout this conversation, something remotely truthful comes out. "She's one hell of a shag."

"Huh..."

Tom goes quiet. Unlike his best friend, he can objectively say that there’s nothing wrong with her voice. She laughs, her whole face lit up, like she’s genuinely having fun, and her dress looks fine on her.

Scratch that.

Her dress looks amazing on her. The tulle is sheer and light around her thighs, making it look like it magically floats around her. But the corset bodice accentuates her curves so well that Tom finds himself somewhat envious of the sequins swirling patterns all over her body.

Harrison turns to see him still staring at her, deep in thought, and he grows suspicious. "What." It sounds more like a demand for explanation than a question.

“That’s it? Great shag, nothing more?” Tom asks, as if for confirmation.

Harrison shrugs.

“So you don’t mind if I chat her up?”

“Yeah,” he answers immediately, far too cool, too fast for him to catch himself. In the span of three seconds, Harrison manages to go experience the shock, the panic, the confusion.

The regret.

But he’s three seconds too late, and she's already walking over to the bar where they are now, and he can hear Tom stepping up and greeting her in his effortless charm.

"Y/N! Fancy seeing you here!" Tom opens up his arms and she gladly accepts the hug, kissing him on both cheeks.

"I could say the same about you, Spider-Man." she pats him on the chest, finger lingering just a moment too long on his chest. “I almost didn't recognize you for a sec. You look great!"

He chuckles bashfully. He seems to trade in his usual preppy golf chic style with a more ‘bad boy’ look, with his buzzcut and leather jacket over a white t-shirt. "Oh, thanks. It's for Cherry. I just came back from Morocco and then this div right here…" he elbows Harrison, "...told me he's walking the runway! So of course I gotta go."

"I saw. Good job on not tripping," she notes, finally flashing her signature fake smile at Harrison.

He's not sure whether he's more annoyed at her backhanded compliment or the fact that it took her this long to even acknowledge him. He knows she was there at the show. She sat right on the front row, eyeing him up and down with every outfit he came out in.

"Thanks. I'm sure you were really looking forward to that, weren't you, darling?" he smiles back pointedly at her.

"Only thing I came here for," Y/N retorts, quick as lightning. "Actually, I'm hosting this after-party hoping to celebrate that too, but alas…"

"You did this?" Tom pipes up, motioning at the hall around them.

"Mm-hm. I mean, regular clubs are so passé, don’t you think?"

"That's so true. And may I say, this is quite impressive. It’s very… you." Tom's eyebrows rise, playing up his puppy dog eyes as he marvels at the place.

Harrison sees right through his bullshit moves and her bullshit taste, so he simply dismisses, "Eh, it's alright," staring down his empty glass, signaling the bartender for another drink.

"Do you wanna dance?" Tom shifts the conversation with such ease, as if there isn’t a massive elephant in the room-- if said elephant were his best friend cockblocking them.

And to make things worse (or better, depends on who sees it), she matches his frequency, too. "I'd love to. Any reason to get away from Debby Downer here."

Harrison manages a half-hearted, condescending sneer as they make their way to the dance floor, but he knows he's losing. He lets his best friend flirt with his archenemy, and of course she wouldn't miss the opportunity to land a low blow. Her dark eyes flash viciously in the dim light as she shoots him a death glare from across the room.

And he tries to prove her wrong. He tries to mingle with his other friends and acquaintances, but somehow, among a sea of guests, he can always spot Tom and Y/N on the dance floor. Right now, the shorn-haired boy has one hand on hers and the other on her hip. He spins her and dips her, probably saying something swoon-worthy as she hikes up her leg on his waist.

Giggling and getting way too close for Harrison's liking.

And no. He doesn’t have an actual preference for how close Y/N can get with Tom or how much she giggles over his jokes.

Or so he tries to convince himself.

"Mate," Tom lightly slaps his arm, snapping him out of his reverie, "Y/N's showing me around the house. Is that alright?"

"Um, yeah. Why are you asking for my permission?" he laughs it off like it's the most ridiculous question ever-- and in hindsight, it is. He has absolutely no say in who his friend or his enemy fucks.

Tom shrugs. "I don’t know. I mean, you're the one who has history with her--"

"It's really no big deal, Tom. I don't care," he cuts off, more exasperated than anything else.

"...Right. I'll text you later, then?" he pats Harrison's arm once again, this time as a goodbye.

Y/N waits for him by the entrance, and that little shit still has the gall to blow him a kiss before she takes Tom's arm and disappears into the hallway.

Some of his model friends call him out to join them, and as he downs the rest of his whiskey, Harrison comes down to the dance floor to drown in the blaring music and dancing bodies. The question pounds his head: why did he let Tom go for it? Why is he disappointed that Y/N actually plays along? Why is he so bummed about this all?

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he’s almost relieved from its distraction.

Well. Until he reads the message.

'Master suite. 2nd floor, East Wing. Last door on the left. Stop sulking and get your shit together asap, or Tom and I will start without you ;)'

It's much easier to simply pull one of these girls who are already grinding all over him and vying for his attention. He could make eyes at any of them and they’d be happy to get cozy with him for the rest of the night. No questions asked. But he hates the idea of leaving these assholes alone more than he craves being alone. He’d lost out twice already tonight-- first to Tom, and then to Y/N for having the last word. The winning strike. He’s not gonna let her win again.

So he sets off. Across the marble floor tiles and past the Greco-Roman statues, up the winding stairs towards the east wing. It's not until he walks in that he considers the possibility of this invitation being nothing but a prank. A sick joke to shit on his miserable evening even more.

"Ugh, I hate you guys so fucking much," Harrison grumbles, fully prepared to walk back out on Tom and Y/N, making out on the gaudy king-sized bed.

But with that, she pulls away from Tom. She walks over to Harrison, hips swaying under her dress. "Took you long enough."

"Thought you weren't gonna start without me, darling." He cups her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"Thought you were gonna lose the attitude, Harrison," she chucks his little quip back at him. But then, as quick as pushes his hand away, she pulls him in, "C'mere."

It sounds like a dirty trick, but in it, Harrison finds relief. His lips find their way to hers. Hot and warm and biting and familiar. As it should be.

Finally.

"Fuck…" Tom quietly cusses from the bed, slipping out of it to not miss the action.

Harrison even forgot that he was there for a moment-- and for a moment, he wanted to forget. He's not ready to share her just yet-- especially when said friend so graciously helps himself to unzipping Y/N's dress and peeling it off of her body. So he shoves Tom away from her-- playfully, although with a sliver of truth behind the possessive gesture.

But Tom simply catches it as friendly banter, and he comes up behind the boy and kisses his neck instead. "Just like the good old days, eh, mate?" His hands roam all over his chest, his fingers warm against his sheer lace shirt.

"Wait, you guys have done this before?" Y/N asks, curious at the two boys before her.

"We went to an all-boys boarding school…" Tom shrugs and rests his chin on Harrison's shoulder.

"We've experimented," Harrison finishes.

"Ooh, naughty," she coos, closing the gap to Tom's mouth, this time into a searing kiss. But her hand strokes the back of Harrison's head gently, almost like willing him to stay.

And wrapped up in lust and loathing sounds like enough incentive to do that.

Y/N finally breaks the kiss with Tom to resume her kiss with Harrison. He wonders if she's comparing them in her mind; see who she likes better.

And he hates how much he wants it to be him.

"Well…" she smiles slyly like she could read his mind. "Why don't you boys show me how you do it, hmm?"

It flips a switch in Harrison’s head and activates his competitive side. He pushes Tom into bed, straddles his lap and slips off his suit jacket. He drops it on the floor, revealing the black lace shirt underneath, hugging his biceps and clinging onto his chiseled body like second skin.

Tom whistles low. "You sure know how to dress up, don't ya?"

Meanwhile, Harrison peels off the leather jacket and white t-shirt off of him. "You know how to dress down."

"That's very true," he chuckles, unbuckling his friend's belt and pauses when he pushes down his pants.

The lace shirt, sheer and swirling patterns on his chest, connects to the signature Versace black-and-gold waistband, and an equally sheer and fitting pair of tights, with lace edges like garters.

It's not just a shirt. It's a fucking lingerie.

Y/N couldn't contain her gasp. Nor could she resist joining them and feeling the fabric on his thigh-- a texture she's never felt on him before, and she wishes she had sooner. "Is this for me?"

Harrison scoffs. "You wish, darling."

She looks over his shoulder-- he couldn't see it, but he can feel her knowing smile to Tom. "That means yes," she explains matter-of-factly.

"There's no shame in that, mate. Besides, for what it's worth…" Tom runs his hand all over his lace-clad chest, down the silk button line, "You look damn good in it."

The buttons come undone one by one. The lace scratches against his skin, soothed by kisses from two mouths; one along his neck, the other down his spine. The hand over his hard-on is.. firmer, stranger, but he feels her curves pressed against his back. Soft. Familiar. Inviting.

Soon enough, he lies naked on his back with both Tom and Y/N between his legs. Their tongues dance along his veiny shaft, retracing the lace patterns on his discarded lingerie until they meet right at the tip. They make out right over his cock, clashing and colliding with the pink, leaking head. It floods his senses like no other.

"Um… hello?" Harrison breaks the silence in the room-- and the kiss.

"Jesus Christ, you just can't stand not being the center of attention, can you? Gosh…" she scoffs, slapping his inner thigh lightly.

"Are you always this hard on him?" Tom turns toward her, bemused.

She only stares at him as if saying, duh.

And he stares back at her. "That's hot."

Harrison partly considers smacking his head, but Tom follows it up with taking his entire length in his mouth. Dirty smirk slobbering and swallowing him whole. And just like that, all is forgiven. He doesn't remember Tom being this bold about sucking dick in boarding school, but to be fair, it has been forever since then.

His mind is hazy, and all he could think of is the tension in his core. At this point, he couldn't care less who makes him cum, so long as he does. And just as he gets on edge, in every sense of the word, her hand grips the base of his cock and follows the rhythm of Tom's mouth. Erratic. He only vaguely registers the moans muffled into a kiss as he explodes all over his abs.

"School must've been fun for you guys, huh?" Y/N smirks as she laps up his white hot release all the way to his chiseled chest, making her way next to him.

He really should've been very pissed at her. For raining on his parade. For mocking him and putting him in place in front of Tom. For being more of a bitch than usual, if that's even possible.

But she lays her head next to him and he can see the shimmery makeup on her face and the barely visible trace of lipgloss, and he just… kisses her. Brings his hand between her legs, slipping underneath her panties.

Soaked.

Harrison hums knowingly, "You're having fun, too, it seems," circling his middle finger around her clit.

"Oh, definitely." Her eyes close and breath hitches when his finger enters her-- nearly too calm, too gentle, given everything that's happened.

Well. Up until he hears the clink of a belt buckle dropping to the floor and the shift of weight in the bed as Tom jumps back in sans clothing.

He settles between Y/N's legs and nuzzles Harrison's hand, sucking his slick, salty fingers clean off of her arousal. "Fuck, you taste so good, too."

“I know,” she chuckles, low and lazy and cocky as fuck, not even hiding how attracted she is to this fucking guy.

“May I?” he gazes up at her, fingers hooked into the waistband of her lace panties.

“Fuck yeah.”

Harrison has never wanted to kiss the smug look on her face so bad. He tries to contain her moans as Tom licks up her folds and makes his way to her clit. Distracting her by undoing her bra and putting her pebbled nipple in his mouth, one after the other, never leaving one unattended with his finger pulling and pinching. But the more he tries, the more he finds himself… disappearing from the picture. Her nails scratch into his shorn hair as she gets further and further lost in her bliss.

“Tommy…” she sighs, her back arches as her orgasm draws near.

“Mm?” he barely responds. His eyes are still shut and his mouth buried in her pussy.

She cradles the back of his head, fingernails digging into her scalp. “Make me cum.”

That makes him look up, his nose glistening from her wetness. He flashes his signature boyish smile and dives right back to it.

There’s something about Tom that Y/N is wildly drawn into. He's cheeky and playful and affable in a way that Harrison… isn't. And as much as it pisses him off to see how much she's enjoying this, he understands perfectly why she does.

She grabs his hair, though, as if beckoning him over.

And like a fucking loser, he unlatches himself from her breast and meets her gaze. "Yes, darling?"

She kisses him through her high, messy and broken with moans, and for a second, he thinks maybe whatever they have between them means something. Somehow.

“Harrison…” she calls out his name, sweet and delirious like she's about to say something nice for once. “... I don’t think you’re my favorite anymore.”

She giggles mischievously, playfully, but Harrison just sees red. Even as she bites his lower lip to reel him back in, all he can focus is her hand on Tom’s face. How she hisses when he nips at her hip. How hard she came apart under him. And all his walls build back up.

“Yeah, well. You were never my favorite, so...” he untangles himself from her and sits up, “All’s fair in love and war, right?”

“Harrison--” she reaches out for him when she notices the air thickens between them, but he’s already left the bed.

Tom props himself up on his elbows and watches Harrison disappear into the bathroom. "Mate?"

Five seconds has never felt so long as Y/N faces the possibility that she might have pushed him too far. And when he does return, she fully expects him to curse her (and maybe Tom, but definitely her) out and storm off.

But he kneels behind Tom, seizing him from behind. His kisses are sharp and biting down his back. It's the kind that stings the swell of his ass when he gets there.

He grins back at Harrison. “You guys are so chaotic. Is this what you get up to when-- shit!”

Y/N watches his entire face drop in a blind surge of ecstasy. His jaw goes lax and lets out a lazy moan as Harrison works his tongue around his taut ring of muscles. Teasing. Taming. Taking his time to work the so-called golden boy open.

“I honestly came here to fuck Y/N, but…” Tom admits.

She responds with a light swat to his shoulder. “How presumptuous of you.”

“Did I presume correctly, though?”

“Well…” she rolls her eyes and bites back a smile, which is already an answer in and of itself.

“So go on then. Fuck her,” Harrison comes back up and goads him, and she’s not sure whether he means it as an encouragement for him or an insult against her. Or both.

“You sure you’re okay with that, mate?” Tom turns his head towards him, his tone light but his eyes narrow in concern.

He sticks the tip of his finger into Tom’s ass, just enough to make his arms give, so he can get a better look at the girl laying before them. “I told you, who she fucks is none of my business. Right, darling?”

“I know, but-- fuck me…” he groans, gripping her waist tighter for support.

“While you fuck her? You sure you can handle it?” Harrison simpers devilishly.

Tom tuts. “Don’t underestimate me, bro.”

Harrison finds Y/N’s gaze boring a hole into him, firm and unwavering, like she’s trying to read him. Or make a decision. Whatever he’s doing, he’s not doing it to win her anymore and she’s not sure what to make of it.

“Top drawer, right bedstand,” she tells Harrison, both as an instruction and a sign of consent.

He promptly sets off to the bedstand, convincing himself that he’s not doing this for her with every step. He tosses a condom Tom’s way, keeping one for himself, and the latter wastes no time unwrapping it and rolling it onto his curving cock.

“Hurry up, or Tom and I’ll get started without you…” Y/N teases in a sing-songy tune, but her eyes watch him like a hawk as she gauges his reaction.

He’s calm this time. “By all means, start without me,” he replies nonchalantly as he rummages through the drawer, still looking for that lube.

“Alright then. Let’s see if that cock’s as good as your mouth,” she pulls him in with her legs around his waist.

He leans in to kiss her as he lines himself up against her opening. “Looking forward to proving it to you, darling.”

Harrison finds the lube and turns to them just in time to see them moan in pleasure, and he tries not to break the bottle in his hand. He really shouldn’t be so wound up by Tom calling her darling. It’s an awfully common term of endearment, and he's not the only one who can use it on her. Tom probably didn't mean anything by it.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna fuck me eventually?” Tom smoothly calls him out.

For the first time since the three of them stumbled into bed, Harrison is glad that Tom is there and seems to genuinely want him. Y/N’s game has gotten so tangled up that he’s not even sure if she still wants him there. Not really. So he’s gonna make the most of it where he's wanted.

“I thought you would’ve learned a little patience since we last… experimented,” Harrison whispers in his ear, biting at his earlobe.

“Guess I haven’t.” Tom grinds his ass back into Harrison’s cock, finding a new rhythm that makes Y/N moan.

She lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re cute.”

“Why, thank you. I--” his words are cut off with the feel of cold gel on his sensitive spot. “I try to be--”

Harrison interrupts him with his cock this time, entering him in one swift thrust. He welcomes the haze that clouds his mind as Tom locks in on him, so tight and delicious around him. It allows him to forget this whole mess he's lying in.

Meanwhile, Y/N revels in how real everything feels. Tom's dick flexes inside her, pulsing and still all at once. He's thicker than Harrison-- his whole body is. His waist is slightly wider, and his hard chest presses a more solid weight on top of her. Even more so that there's Harrison and the whole weight of his ego piling up atop him…

"You alright?" Harrison checks in with Tom as the latter still lies flopped on Y/N's chest.

"Mm, very," he murmurs into her skin, kissing her lazily across her chest..

She must've seen how cock-drunk he is because the next thing she does is to cup his face and take a good look at him. "Hey… look at me. Are you good to keep going?"

"I am, I am. It's just been a while since I've last done this, Y/N. Chill out," he rambles on, kissing her for reassurance.

"I want you to not cum before I do," she instructs-- slowly, soothingly, as she scratches the back of his head. "Can you do that for me?"

Tom simply hums, so she clenches around his cock to snap him out of it. "Okay! Okay. I won't, baby, I promise."

She grins and finally kisses him back, then. "Good boy."

"You never asked me so nicely," Harrison notes as he starts to move at an unhurried pace. There's no jealousy or resentment in his words… that he intends to.

"You never play nice with me, so…" Y/N shrugs, thrusting up to meet Tom's frantic hips.

"Yeah, I'll show you nice." Harrison laughs, almost coldly so, and starts fucking Tom deeper. Harder.

It makes her head spin. Tom's completely enshrouding her with his biceps and sloppy kisses all over her neck. But she can't help but feel like Harrison's the one fucking her. His mouth is on Tom's shoulder, sucking a hickey like there's no tomorrow, but he keeps his eyes on her. Keeping his pace deliberate, so she feels every impact of his thrust.

His hand finds Tom's neck, and he feels him picking up the pace from underneath him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good…"

"Harder," Tom manages through a strained voice.

"Where?"

He squeezes Harrison's fingers on the sides of his neck, and he's fully aware how acutely she feels it. The sheer sight of Tom blissed out and desperate before her is getting her so close, and he knows it.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs it into Tom's ear, but he's really saying it to her.

The two of them barely hears Tom's needy pleas of 'fuck I'm so close, fucking hell' when they come. Everything's so tight, so intimate, but at the same time, never really close enough. She's feeling his thrusts without even having him inside her. He brings her closer, but it's Tom's hand rubbing down her clit. And God, she falls apart harder than she ever had, but she also comes wishing he was closer.

They sort of stumble back into bed absent-minded, each in their own post-orgasm haze. Each of them wondering what the next move should be, now that this is over.

Tom's phone rings in his trousers pocket-- startling and saving them from another second of this awkward silence. He climbs out of bed, and fishes it out, ass hanging in the air.

"Hello?" He pauses, pulling his pants back on. "Yeah? Alright, cool. I'll be right down. No, I'm just… looking around. Think I got a bit lost," he winks back at them.

Y/N sees Harrison smile, shaking his head at his best friend, and it makes the air a bit lighter in the room.

"Harry and Jacob just arrived, so. I'm gonna head back downstairs and… give you guys a little privacy-- I think you really needed it. But, uh," Tom grins, all bright and cheery, "That was a lot of fun, guys. See ya!"

The door closes and the lighthearted air disappears with him. Right now there's just Y/N and Harrison sitting on opposite ends of the bed, still trying to process what just happened.

Harrison finally opens up, "I--"

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," she says at the exact same time, wasting no time to rush off to the ensuite.

When she comes back, Harrison's already buttoning up his bodysuit back on, and she's almost disappointed that she can't admire this look on him a little longer.

"You're leaving," she says, more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, um." He looks like he's about to say something, but just… studies her face from across the room.

"What?"

"Did you mean that?" He plays it off by glancing down on his shirt buttons. "When you said I wasn't your favorite anymore?"

And there it is. So he was pressed about that, she notes in her mind. In all honesty, she meant it as a joke. But they also don't open up and be vulnerable with each other. So she settles for the next best thing.

"I don't pick favorites," she ultimately answers. "But if I did…"

Harrison looks up, reluctantly resigned with how much he still wants it to be him.

But her words just hang in the air, and eventually she shakes her head. This is simply not the relationship they have. "Nah. Nevermind."

But he gets it. He smiles, for the first time in a while, a genuine smile at her. "Right." It's not quite the answer he's hoping for, and not quite the reaction he wants to give, but it's something.

"Besides," she pipes up, the cheekiness coming back to her pretty features, "I think if I were to decide, I would need to fuck you first."

"Didn't we just--"

"No…" she steps closer, and Harrison has never felt more naked in his life, even though she's the one wearing nothing. "Tom fucked me and you fucked Tom. I think it's hardly fair, isn't it?"

She wraps her arms around his waist and he welcomes it with open arms. "Good point. We'd better go ahead and make it fair, then, darling."

She kisses his jawline, already unbuttoning his shirt again. "Gladly."

***

Tagging my beloved moots who might be interested? @angel-holland @spidey-sophie @worldoftom @cocoamoonmalfoy @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovelytholland @violetlilysunshine @spideyssunshine @spideyspeaches @annathesillyfriend @hotforharrison @kiwi-bitchez @selfcarecap @awkward-darkness @bi-writes @hollandsrecs @hollandsmushroom @kelieah <3

anyway i hope you enjoyed it and i'd love to hear what you think in the comments, reblogs, or asks! thank you so much for reading!

#richkid!haz #dear lord i hope the tags work #harrison osterfield #tom holland #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom x harrison x reader #ava writes

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consul-valerius · 2 years

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Character Breakdown: Marisol Gatti-Ortega and Harrison Gatti

Woof, this was a long time coming huh? I've had in my drafts a proper breakdown on Donna's biological parents (what their motivations are, what their families are like, what their relationship dynamic is, etc.) as well as a more specific idea of what their ritual was (or what it was intended to be) in relation to Donna. For more context/background info, I did an informal intro to them both here; I think I'll update Donna's bio soon too, but their OG one is here as well for more context :3c

Massive content warning for discussions/references to child neglect and attempted sacrifices, as well as brief mentions of pregnancy and parental death. I don't go into graphic detail, but if these themes/topics are upsetting to you, please avoid!

For length and also to keep things neat, the full breakdown will be undercut!

The Gatti Family (Harrison's biological folks)

Harrison’s father is an extremely powerful magician, with his grandfathers before him serving under different counts and dukes etc. However, Harrison’s father opted to serve only himself in the end, and he focused on building up his strengths for his own gains.

Harrison’s entire paternal lineage has been extremely devoted to The Devil Arcana (though, if they were patrons or not of him is up for debate). Many of them made different deals with a variety of demons to get close to him, to the point of being corrupted to the point of becoming demons themselves in this pursuit.

Harrison’s father had several children, some Harrison doesn’t even know of due to many of them being with different women. Harrison barely knew his own mother; she walked out due to things getting too Intense with his father (and good for her tbh).

The goal for the Gatti family was to basically have an elite group of magicians, each serving The Devil in different ways and making deals with him to ensure their power. Harrison’s father felt that by doing this, he would be rewarded with endless power (think Valdemar level). Many of Harrison’s siblings wound up doing their own version of this family dynamic (multiple kids, different moms/dads, etc.), making Donna’s paternal side of the family extremely large but difficult to track.

Harrison felt that he could outdo his father and siblings by doing what they all seemed too weak to do: offer one of their own to The Devil himself instead of having and training a gaggle of children.

Surprisingly, his family viewed this as too far, and he eventually split up from them entirely.

The Ortega Family (Marisol's biological folks)

The Ortega parents were prominent inn-keepers in Karnassos (subject to change lol); the name of their inn being Posada del Colibrí

Married young (~16-17) and very chill but business-minded people. The shop in Vesuvia belonged to them (they had other shopkeepers running it, but they owned and managed it); their main sources of income was between their business at the inn and their magic/apothecary shop.

They were crowd pleasers; their inn was always a blast to be housed in, and they were the life of the party essentially.

Both were also magic users (another appeal to the inn) and specialized in divining and tarot readings. Conducted seances regularly for wealthy guests; Dom and Marisol also pick up this tradition, though Dom leans more towards green/kitchen magic when she gets older.

Marisol is much more naturally inclined to it and is quite powerful on her own. Has a special connection with The Arcana in general, quite comparable to Asra.

The two parents both passed suddenly in a carriage accident; Dominique and Marisol both agreed to split the two businesses up between one another. Dom would run the inn as she was more passionate about it, and Marisol chose to help run the shop in Vesuvia with the then-current shopkeepers (possibly cousins?).

However, once she meets Harrison, Marisol eventually shrugs off her responsibilities entirely. This allowed it to be easier for Donna to eventually take it over; it was near disrepair by the time they get to it about ~XX years later (I'll post a proper timeline of Donna's life..... one day...)

Marisol and Harrison’s Relationship

Marisol and Harrison met a little bit before Marisol’s parents died; they were both attracted to one another’s quiet strengths and reserved natures.

Harrison was, to his credit, extremely helpful towards Marisol in grieving her parents, but it did make them both extremely codependent on one another as a result too.

Marisol saw how naturally people gravitated towards her younger sister, and she felt that Harrison would be the only man to truly love her. On the flip, Harrison idealized Marisol: she held all the power he wished he had, and he didn’t want to let her go and waste the potential. (A/N: a parallel between Donna and Valerius ???? Everyone seeing Donna > Val and them wasting their potential staying with him; Donna just loving Valerius because he makes them feel seen, not as some powerful accessory— the opposite of how Harrison viewed Marisol.)

Harrison was most attracted to Marisol’s magic capabilities; every spell seemed effortless to her, and even when he showed her more advanced magic, she would seamlessly be able to utilize it.

In short: Harrison felt Marisol would be the perfect mother for the perfect sacrifice.

When Marisol began dating Harrison, she began to get what she thought were visions from the Arcane realms. She felt The Devil card call out to her more often, and she continually kept pulling the card for numerous daily readings for herself.

When Harrison reveals his family’s history with The Devil, the revelation clicks for Marisol: it was fated that she met Harrison, and it was fated that she needed to make this connection with The Devil Arcana herself.

Truthfully, Marisol’s connection to the card was genuine, more genuine than what Harrison believed his to be. It made accepting Harrison’s plan that much easier: they would have a child, prove that it had the potential to be a capable magician, and give it up to The Devil Arcana in exchange for limitless power.

It is not 100% clear if The Devil truly was expecting them to go through with it or not, or if he was truly her patron at all. It is also not clear if a sacrifice was something he truly wanted at all. Perhaps he wanted another magician like Valdemar in his possession (Marisol) to keep by his side in case of Valdemar’s clear plans for betrayal? Perhaps he was bored and wanted to see if the crazy humans he was toying with would really go through with it? He has never been clear on it.

For the entirety of Harrison’s and Marisol’s relationship, Dom was on the sidelines, very concerned over her sister pushing her away like this. However, she made sure not to detach herself entirely, despite her sister’s new coldness hurting her so badly (coupled with dealing with the loss of her parents).

When it’s revealed Marisol is pregnant, Dom tried her hardest to push her way back fully into her life, but Harrison tried his hardest to push her out. She finds it disturbing that they both seem to not want anyone involved in the pregnancy-- Dom found out by chance, not by Marisol telling her. However, it was clear Marisol was not making any moves to terminate the pregnancy, so Dom was left confused, angry, and concerned.

She tries multiple times to get Marisol to leave Harrison, but every time she does, it turns into a fight and nothing is accomplished. Dom is also anxious over adding more stress on Marisol while she's pregnant, so it makes any meaningful dialogue difficult.

The Failed Sacrifice

Marisol eventually has Donna: at first, she’s immediately ready to get that sacrificial blade sharpened and get this show on the road. However, Harrison flips the script on her a little: they must wait longer to see that 1.) the baby is healthy and 2.) that they show any magical promise. If not, they will simply give them up and start over again. Simple!!

At first, Marisol is PISSED. She has been trying not to feel any connection to this thing that has been growing inside of her for months (her pregnancy was also a difficult one, which only made her disdain towards Donna grow), and now she had to live with it? However, more visions and dreams and reassurance finally calm her enough to allow it.

To prevent either of the two from growing attached to Donna, they hire a nanny and wet nurse to care for and raise them. They also set up strict boundaries with the nannies as well, preventing them from being overly comforting or soft with Donna so they don’t grow stretched.

Despite her attempt at coldness, Marisol always felt a pull to Donna she had to squash. It was always difficult to ignore their crying, and many times she caved and nursed them herself (in secret). She had many dreams about them, depicting them as older and powerful. She had to force herself to believe that these dreams were confirmation she was on the right path (not that her path was doomed to fail, and Donna would surpass her).

Dom was nearly completely shut out from their lives; any time she tried visiting, Harrison wouldn’t let her through the door. She could hear Donna, but she was forbidden from seeing them or Marisol. It was a very dark time of her life, and she felt extremely hopeless.

Finally, about ~2 years later, Dom has a very real Prophetic Dream Moment Type Situation and rushes to their residence. She breaks in successfully and finds that all the hired help is gone. She makes her way to the basement of the home and finds Marisol with a blade poised at a very frightened Donna.

A massive magical battle breaks out; years of pain and anger just bubble out of Dominique: she easily overpowers Harrison, and she and Marisol have a nearly deadly fight between one another. At one point, it is clear to Dominique that Marisol is intending on doing anything to go through with her plans, even if it means killing her sister.

As if stunned by that revelation herself, Marisol pauses her actions, horrified. Dom strikes her down successfully, not enough to kill her, but enough to prevent her from recovering any time soon.

With nothing else to do, she grabs Donna, the "niece" she is meeting for the first time, and runs. She never sees or hears from Marisol again. She has no idea what her fate winds up being or what she and Harrison would end up doing when they woke up, and Dominque never pursued it.

In the end, all of Marisol and Harrison's plans blow up in their faces, and in the end, they have nothing to show for either of their efforts.

#bottom writes #bottom ponders #fan appretice donna #OC: Marisol #OC: Harrison #introducing...#the arcana (game)#the arcana original character #Dominique is getting her own post soon don't worry lmfao #but anyway FUCK donna's parents #and please heed content warnings! i try to keep things light around here but my boys (gnc) are.... troubled. LMFAO

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fanficparker · 3 years

Text

A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.

>> CHAPTER FIVE

“Man is not the master of destiny but a wooden doll strung on a string.” - The Mahabharata, Vyasa

(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC

Word count: 2.65k words

Warning: Smut* [Male masturbation, reference to past sex (mild dom/sub dynamics)], swearing, smoking.

Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What’s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.

A/N: hehe, i am falling for my own characters. this chapter was honestly fun to write. hope you also enjoy reading it the way i enjoyed writing it!

<< FOUR [ MASTERLIST ] SIX >>

Harrison slammed the door of his room, sliding the bolt into place. He marched straight into the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it across the floor.

Bracing his arms on the basin, he met his own eyes in the mirror. This was the day he was eagerly waiting for all these years. The day when he would finally step out of the shadow of his uncle, the great Lufian Clarke and draw his own image in the mafia world. But...

I thought Clarke's scion would be smarter.

Even her previous words were an arrow to his heart. And her new words just managed to rub the right amount of salt over his wounds, successfully bothering him all over again.

If what she claims is true, if Clarke really had claimed half of his empire to her, all by his choice— Harrison groaned at the mere possibility, yet it managed to haunt him.

Was he not worth it? Hasn't he not proven his worth enough to the dead stubborn man? His grip on the marble top tightened as his teeth grit, accentuating the hollowness of his cheekbones.

She wasn't even the leader of her clan, just a top ranking member of a gang.

"A gang." The words sounded funny on his tongue. He chuckled bitterly, feeling the rising bile in his throat.

He turned on the faucet, bending over and splashing cold water over his flushed face. They weren't even a properly systemized Mafia syndicate but a semi-organized street gang, scattered all over the place.

Meeting his eyes in the mirror, again, he watched as the water ran down his face, wetting his white vest shirt. He discarded it, massaging his shoulders, trying to untangle the knots, rubbing across the silver chain that swung by his neck.

He shrugged off the remaining of his garments and stepped into the shower. The water battered his back, hammering against the taut muscles as he stood with his palms sticking against the cold wall, shutting his eyes, inhaling briskly.

No. It wasn't just her words that were bothering him.

It was all of her.

Right from the day he had first met her, Sandhya Omar was the physical manifestation of trouble.

Sandhya Omar was also his first failed mission.

Two years ago. That Casino in Vegas.

He slammed his fist against the wall, feeling the vibrations rippling through his muscles, advancing the pain through his bones.

How could he forget that night? How could he ever forget that smug look of hers? Oh, what he could have done to bang that smirk off her face!

Contrary, he did nothing and instead let her take control.

That night he lost against her in a stupid game of cards. That night he found himself crazy and desperate for her.

He brought his fist to his lips. Torn and tattered knuckles, fresh blood oozing out of them, washed by the water. He could taste it on his tongue.

That night he let her touch him, torture him in the most sweetest manner. That night her lips traced over every corner of his skin, burning through his flesh.

His gut churned at the memory.

She wasn't even the prettiest woman he had encountered. He also had a fair share of one-night stands with pretty women that he bet could compete with Helen of Troy... Even then, even after two years, she could still get him... crazy... desperate...

She didn't let him touch her but worshipped every inch of his body. She marked him all over his chest but never let a scratch corrode her skin. She got him over the edge multiple times not allowing his release, bouncing over his dick, her perky breasts dying to be caressed.

If those weren't torturous enough—oh, the noises she made, falling apart, pressed against his skin—

His cock twitched with fresh lust.

His right arm trailed down, long fingers closing around his girth. He drew in a ragged breath as his hand started pumping across his shaft. Long and slow rubs, right wrist twisting as his left hand pressed against the wall tighter, occasionally pushing back the wet curls the fell over his eyes.

Her image flashed in his head. Big black eyes staring at his clear blue ones. He tried to push it away. Only to lose all over again, pumping furiously against his hand, the veins in his arms protruding with the pressure he applied. The sound of his breathing was defeated by the sound of the shower along with the obscene squelching noises his cock made as it twitched, squeezed between his fingers.

Moving in and out of his grip, it turned wetter every passing second, soaked in his precum--sweat--water--or all three of them. He felt it spasm. With a low grunt, he came in his hand, slumping against the chilly tiles. He watched his seed wash down the drain as he rode through his orgasm, slowly stroking over his softening length.

How cruel was it to hate a person's guts with every drop of blood in your body, only to find yourself jerking off to them?

"Pathetic." He mumbled, out of breath.

***

Sandhya woke up covered in silk sheets over a mattress softer than (what she assumed) clouds. The morning sky had entered her space, tearing through the window shades, manifesting itself as streaks of orange-blue light.

She felt better than yesterday even though her sleep was improper and a faint soreness rested in the region below her neck and above her breasts. Her going-to-be-the-best-day-of-her-life-turning-dreadful rushed back into her memory lane.

Harrison Osterfield.

The way he gripped her last night. She could still feel the ghost of his arms pressed against her body.

In an attempt to calm down, she sat up, scrubbing a hand over her face, pushing back her hair, swallowing her anger.

She hated ruining her mood at the beginning of the day. He wasn't worth it. Also, her stomach rumbled with hunger.

She peeled the sheets from her body and walked up to the dressing mirror, glancing at her face. She hadn't even removed her makeup from the previous day. She didn't even remember falling asleep.

Studying her face, she irked at the smeared mascara that almost made her look like a raccoon. Her eyes stopped their trail and focused on the three faint scars she discovered over her slender neck.

They weren't there before.

Her brows pulled together as she moved closer to the mirror, bending over, trying to take a better look at them. Grazing a single finger across them, she could feel the slightly bumpy but fine red lines sketched over her light brown skin, resembling paper cuts. Or, perhaps, a very sharp knife.

That bastard.

A heated flush of irritation rose along her skin. The cuts weren't deep enough to hurt her in any manner, they would probably not even last a week, but they were enough to shake every bone in her body with fury.

Inheriting Clarke's wealth and power was virtuous enough. Having her own mafia, run after her life was the inherent vice. But working alongside a jerk...?

She didn't even realize she was clenching her jaw until she felt the tension rise to her forehead. Her fists were clenched too.

If anything, this agreement now felt more like a forced marriage. As if she were a princess married away to an arrogant, equally ignorant, self-righteous prince of a faraway kingdom.

Disgust lodged in the pit of her stomach, twisting into nausea. She tried to shrug off the ridiculous parallel her mind had just drawn.

She wasn't married to Harrison Osterfield. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in a million years. Not in an eternity.

She drew in a shaky breath. Her eyes searched for the coat she had worn yesterday. Finding it lying across the foot of the bed, she picked it up, rummaging through the inside pockets, fishing out a pack of cigarettes along with a lighter.

She needed them to start her day now. Now that it was officially ruined. Breakfast could wait. She would also need to fix the way she looked. And change the clothes she was wearing especially those skin-tight jeans. She couldn't stand in them for another minute. How had she even managed to sleep in them?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she plucked a stick from the pack, languidly pressing the yellow filter between her lips and lighting the other end with the flick of her thumb over the lighter. With a long drag, she relaxed her shoulders, throwing herself on the mattress. The grey smoke filled her lungs. Her other fist unclenched.

She sunk further down on the bed, lying on her back and squeezed her eyes shut. A drowning feeling rested in the middle of her chest as the smoke escaped through her nose and from the corner of her lips.

She took another drag.

If the past day was tough, she was well aware that the passing days will be tougher.

***

Navigating through the hallways, dimly lit with yellow electric lamps, Sandhya walked on her bare feet (the cloud like soft carpets were screaming for attention), carefully studying whatever came in her path. She had woken up a household staff, getting herself something comfortable to wear. They had a huge collection of dresses and makeup supplies for a place lacking significantly in female representation. She had tossed the dresses for a comfortable hoodie, probably the softest piece of fabric she had ever worn and a pair of shorts. She was just looking to be comfortable for now.

Anyway, she continued to walk through the space, passing through numerous corridors, now bathed and feeling fresh, but hungrier than before, desperately in search of the kitchen. She walked across a trail of doors, massive, illumined by spotlights reflecting over the giant marble columns that surrounded them. Probably more guest suites. In its Godzilla like size, the mansion's symmetry of the architecture and the attention to detail made it exquisite even for the largest of free spaces. They seemed homey. Habitable.

"Wow." Her lips formed the words. Although she knew better ways to spend money than on liabilities such as these.

Merely wondering about the electricity charges or the number of staff members it required to manage a monster like this... Her head started hurting.

She paused below a giant black-and-white portrait of Lufian Clarke, steps faltering a bit. He stood tall against the wall, his fingers pressed against the side of his head. His signature grey beard was nicely trimmed, adorning his jawline, complimenting his perfectly coiffed hair. He looked elegant. He looked undead.

No wonder he was once listed amongst the greatest film stars that ever walked on Earth before parting into the mob business. Funny (not surprising), he overthrew everyone in it too!

A spark of confidence ignited in her heart. If Clarke had chosen her to be his successor, he must have seen something in her. She could be—special.

Her gaze landed on the entrance of the library that stood merely six feet away from the portrait. Just from observing it from afar, she could tell it was at least three-storeyed.

For another day. Sandhya tried to drive away from the temptation, climbing down the spiral staircase, knowing well, she would starve if she went there.

She found herself standing in the middle of an octagonal hall ignited by the giant chandelier suspended from the gold-patterned ceiling, high enough to consume three floors in their entirety. She was here last night, just was not in the condition or mood to observe anything. And now all she could sense or see was luxury. Leather sofas with embedded remotes, wall-sized TV screens, a large dining area, wall-to-wall bookshelves creating a fortress around easy chairs and lamps along with a reception area to the left corner. It looked more like a waiting room and nothing like a waiting room at the same time.

Her eyes finally landed on the silver kitchen door. She flung it open. It resembled the cooking area of a five-star restaurant more than any household kitchen. Not that she expected otherwise. But it was vacant. Clear counters, empty utensils and not a single human being at sight.

Sandhya felt relieved upon spotting a giant double door refrigerator, and a series of racks adjacent to it, seating a larger variety of loaves of bread than she could ever name.

However, it was a disappointment that the fridge only contained jelly and peanut butter apart from being packed with uncooked ingredients that couldn't be eaten raw. Even if the butter and jelly were of the superior most quality, prepared in the same space she was standing in, by the best chefs in the whole of the country, it was still a massive disappointment.

She, nevertheless, picked up a loaf, one that didn't look too fancy, slicing it with a knife. She had barely turned the lid of the jar when a voice startled her.

"The cooks will prepare fresh breakfast in a while."

Somehow she managed to not drop the peanut butter jar, turning on her feet to take a look at the intruder. A guy wearing a crisp black suit, his hair wet, red and curly, sitting over his head. He was holding a briefcase. He seemed young and somewhat familiar.

"Harry," he introduced himself, stepping closer, stretching a hand.

"Harry Holland," he presented his full name.

The switch flipped in her head. "You and... Tom--"

He cuts her off, pulling his hand back and taking a step away, "Yeah, we are brothers."

Nodding, her vision fell back on her breakfast as she assembled a sandwich. "Any idea how long they'll take to be here?"

She took in a bite, searching him for answers. He seemed to think before he fished out his phone noting the time. "Not before seven-thirty." He slid the device back in.

"And what time is it now?"

"Uhh... Six?"

She hummed, assembling another sandwich.

There was a short silence surrounding them before he decided to break it. "I... I gotta leave." He pointed at the door.

"This early?" She questioned, face contorted in confusion.

"Just some work." He shrugged.

Sandhya studied him, her look turning sour.

"See you later, I guess?" He excused himself, breaking her stance and passing a tight-lipped smile in her direction.

"Sure." She responded nonchalantly, dropping the sandwich on the plate as he walked out.

The Holland brothers, now that she had met both of them, felt a bit peculiar to her. Probably she was overthinking or she was just being careful. She slid a small knife in her clothes, the one she managed to swipe moments before.

Noticing the big window on the other side of the kitchen, she quietly walked up to it, sliding the curtains to the side, just enough to see.

A black Mercedes coupe was standing where last night the car she was brought in stopped. Harry strode towards it, telling the driver something before sliding inside the back seat. She watched carefully as the car drove around the fountain, moving in the path lined with colourful foliage, being actively trimmed and watered by two gardeners.

She dragged the curtains back when the car left the giant mansion gates, turning on the coffee machine. She pressed her palms over the counter, realizing where she was currently living in. The house where Clarke was murdered. The house where the murderer... or murderers... were roaming free, disguised as anyone among them.

A chill crept through her spine.

Pouring the hot coffee into a mug, she decided the first course of action. She must learn about Clarke's employees and their connection with him.

And she would also need Harrison's assistance for that.

She sighed heavily, her head rolling back.

Ugh.

____________________

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…TO BE CONTINUED…

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marvelousell · 4 years

Text

The Agreement (Part 1.)

Pairing(s): frat boy!fwb!Tom x reader, frat boy!Harrison x reader

Summary: Tom is a typical frat boy, his love for partying, drinks and girls are bigger than his ego. Y/N is a whole different dimension, she keeps her circle small, and even though she knows her best friend Tom is a total douche, she can’t say no to the little deal that was sealed between the two of them.

Word count: 2k

A/N: ahhhh so this is my first series that I’m posting here! I’ve went for the fwb!au but I will do a mob one soon too. It will be full of angst, smut, friendship, love, heartbreak, absolutely everything. I hope that you all will like it, and I would appreciate it if you comment, reblog or send a feedback!🥰

Also my tag list is open for the series!

Warnings: mentions of smut, swearing

It was a Friday night and that meant party all night.

Well not for you.

You weren’t a party girl. Sure you went here and there on some frat parties with your friends, but every Friday? Hell no.

The Friday nights were reserved for a book and a cup of tea.

You were a shy one, you kept your circle small. Tom, Harry, Anna and Amelia.

You were a big bookworm, and hopeless romantic. A great duo for sure.

Sometimes you felt like an ugly duckling. Amelia and Anna were gorgeous and appealing brunettes, just like other college girls, but with a great personality. They were a whole package if you asked me.

You would say that you were an average looking girl. Nothing to special.

You just wanted a guy that would love you for who you are on the inside, not outside.

Too much books, I know.

“Maybe it’s time to head to bed.” You said to yourself, after you caught yourself overthinking, again.

“Jesus Christ.” You sighed, the doorbell waking you up.

It was 20 minutes past midnight, and you were now worried who is at the door at this time.

“Again?” You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I really needed a break.” Tom spoke, running his palm through his messy hair and massaging his scalp.

You motioned him to the living room, styling your hair that was sticking out everywhere, as much as possible.

“Great, I look like a zombie.” You murmured to yourself as you went to the couch where Tom was seated.

“Want anything to drink or something else?”

“Yeah…something strong?” He said, pushing his back flat on the couch.

“You know that I only have wine here.”

“It will do the job.”

“So..will you tell me what is tonight’s reason for your visit?” Your figure sat next to Tom’s, enjoying a late glass of wine as well.

“She saw me with Stassie today, so she went bonkers.”

Ah. Typical Tom.

Well let’s go back to the start shall we?

If you were honest, there was a lot, but still nothing to tell that wasn’t familiar to everyone.

Tom. Your typical frat boy.

Hot guy, astonishing body, soft curly brown hair followed with the dark brown eyes that had every girl drooling. His charming smile that he flashed to every single girl, covered up his conceited behaviour. Although he was a very charismatic person, he was a bit big-headed.

Did I say a bit? I meant a lot.

Parties were his scene. Tom loved the attention he got from the people almost immediately when he would enter the party place. Girls were basically throwing themselves on him, waiting for him to acknowledge them.

Tom was aware of the effect he had on the ladies, and he sure took advantage of that.

Every weekend there was a new one in his sheets.

He didn’t do feelings, some girls knew, some didn’t. So the morning after he would throw them out of his room half naked, all shattered and with the disgusting feeling that they were used.

He had a reputation, after all he was the most wanted boy out here, everyone’s dream was to become something to him.

Unfortunately no one had succeeded.

Did Tom say she a minute ago? Oh yes.

She was Sophie. And no, she wasn’t his girlfriend, but she sure didn’t think that way.

Sophie was your classic example of a girl that doesn’t understand the word no.

She was one of Tom’s flings, a beautiful, but fake girl. They got together at her 20th birthday party, it was just a one time drunk sex. Tom waited for her to feel asleep after a long session, so he could just go home and get at least a little amount of sleep.

However the next day at college, Sophie was like a limpet.

She didn’t let him breathe, even though Tom explained how he worked.

To be rejected or not interested in her was a unknown term for Sophie.

“Look, we shared a night, had sex and that’s all. It’s how I roll sweetie okay?” He desperately tried to get her off of his back.

“Tommy, I know how you do things, but you can’t lie about the chemistry. We just need to be together. And the sex is amazing.”

And that’s how it started.

Tom was loud and clear, not just with her, but with his friends and other ladies that she isn’t his girl, and never will be.

He really hoped that Sophie would let him be after a while, and she really did, but Tom just couldn’t keep it in his pants.

The Spring party.

Everyone got shit-faced, Tom was super turned on by a sweet brunette that clearly wasn’t interested in his lame flirting.

Sophie came in for a refill in the kitchen, but she was a godsend for Tom at that moment.

“Soph, sweetie mind if I get you a drink?”

“Thought you were clear about your feelings for me Tommy?” She answered, playing with the end of her dress.

“Yeah, yeah..How about I get you that drink, and we could catch up on things, ya know like old times?” He crossed his arms on purpose, flexing his biceps.

“I knew you would come back.” Sophie laughed, wrapping her slim arms around him.

It happened again. And Tom left like the last time, but once again Sophie didn’t get the message.

It became much more harder for him to avoid her, she was all over the place. She ruined his possible hookups, tried to meet his friends, brothers. It was getting on his last nerve, and even though he said that he doesn’t do relationships, she didn’t give up.

Sophie just wanted to be in the spotlight, and Tom was a great opportunity.

“Dear God. I told you that this lifestyle of yours would cost you. You should’ve refrain yourself for one night. Now you have a fake and crazy girl on your back, and no freedom as well.” You said, secretly eyeing him, he was hot you couldn’t lie.

“Thanks for not helping Y/N. Fucking hell I just want her to disappear, she is hundred percent crazy!”

“Why don’t you for once think rationally. Call her, take her for a coffee, tea whatever, sit down. Talk. Like normal people, tell her how things are, use your magic. But be nice and direct, she needs to get it in her head.” You tried your best to help him, after all he was your best friend and crush since preschool.

Stupid choice I know.

“I think so, but I wouldn’t be surprised that she spreads the news that I took her on a ‘date’, not a ‘can you please fuck off’ coffee.” Tom spoke clearly annoyed, filling up his empty glass.

He was tipsy already, and so were you. The wine absolutely did the job.

You were now nervous, your heart thumping against your ribs, the silence wasn’t an issue between the two of you, but tonight something was different.

“Why are you laughing?” You questioned, looking at Tom.

“Nothing darling, just remembered the day at elementary school.”

“Oh God. Which one?”

“You know, when you almost punched Elizabeth when she said I gave her a flower, and that I’m her best friend now.” He looked at you smiling like a child.

“Hey! You couldn’t blame me I loved you, you were my bestie I thought you betrayed me!” You stated, turning your body to his.

“Oh loved?” He grabbed his chest, trying to look hurt, but failing after a loud laugh escaped from his lips.

Your hand slapped his chest playfully, as an answer.

“This wine is crazy, I’m definitely going to consume it more.” He spoke.

“Well you for sure will if Sophie freaks out again.”

“New bottle?” You asked, standing up, your legs wobbly from the alcohol that was running in your system.

“Sure, it’s a long night after all.”

You tried to be as relaxed as you could be, but Tom’s presence tonight didn’t let you be.

Tom was also tense, the wine messed with his mind, he didn’t got laid for days, and the silky white shorts of yours didn’t help him at all.

You were in front of him, opening a bottle, but he just couldn’t control himself. His eyes were glued on your slim legs and tits.

He knew that under those hoodies that you wear on a daily basis was an incredible body.

Tom finded you attractive, absolutely stunning. He thought about you on his bed, whining for him, he really did wanted to have sex with you, but he couldn’t. You were his best friend and Tom didn’t want to hurt you.

But fucking hell. Tonight you were making him go nuts.

“I’m worn out.” You said exhaling the air.

“Live a little Y/N. Your nose is 24/7 in those books, give yourself a break, don’t be so boring.”

“Me boring? Oh excuse me that I don’t have such a dynamic life as yours.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hell yes you are, when was the last time you had sex?”

“What?!” Your cheeks were burning, and you couldn’t believe he asked you that. Sure you two had conversations about sex, but only about his sex life, and by that I mean who he slept with not how and where.

“You heard me, c’mon we’re friends you can tell me everything.”

Stupid Tom.

“Yes we are, but I would love to keep the informations about my sex life to myself.”

“So you’re a virgin?”

“TOM!” You almost chocked on the wine.

“Well?” He smirked, feeling how you got more and more shy from the conversation. God he wanted to fuck you so bad.

“No I’m not a virgin!”

“Then you can tell me when was the last time hm?”

“I don’t remember ok?! Jesus, the last time was probably the week before me and Noah broke up.” Your voice almost a whisper, realising that you were presumably too boring.

Tom just whistled the ‘wow that’s tooo long’ whistle, earning an annoying look from you.

“If it helps you I didn’t bang a girl for like a week, maybe more?” His answer turning into a question.

“Yeah, that helped me a lot, thanks Thomas.”

“Always here to help you.”

You once again slapped him playfully, but with the arm where your glass of wine was, spilling the beverage on his shirt and sweatpants.

Shit.

“Fuck, sorry! I’m drunk, I-shit.” Yes, you were absolutely drunk, because the sober Y/N wouldn’t try to dry Tom’s crotch with her hands.

Tom’s eyes opened widely. The feeling of your palm rubbing his now hard dick, speeded up his breathing.

Your knees were on the couch, and your body extremely close to his. You still didn’t have a clue what you were doing.

“If you’re gonna clean me up like this, I might spill some of this by myself darling.” He groaned, raising the glass in the air.

That was enough to send your mind to reality.

“OH GOD. I’m so sorry, oh my God this is so embarrassing right now.” You tried to sit back down, but Tom’s hands stopped you.

Before you could fall on the purple carpet in your living room, his grip brought you into his chest.

Your hands were on his thorax, his arms on your lower back.

“Shit, am I on his lap right now?! What the fuck is happening?” You thought inside your head. What a great situation to be in.

“You’re making me so hard now Y/N.”

You were speechless. This wasn’t happening.

“I think it’s a big shame that you don’t have any kind of relief after a long day.” He whispered in your ear, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo.

“Tom.” Your mind was hazy, you tried your best to resist this, but holy shit you wanted this since forever.

“How about I suggest something to you darling?”

788 notes · View notes

farfromparker · 4 years

Text

Just like this | t.h.

Pairing: Friends to Lovers!AU Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You’re his best friend, and he’s been in love with you for the last 3 years. Harrison finally convinces Tom to do something about it.

Warnings: masturbation and some good soft smut!

A/N: I decided I want to write some softness so here it is! Clearly my mind is in the gutter more often than not considering how long I’ve been trying to finish this.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tom drums his fingers on the steering wheel, staring out the windshield. The snow is coming down heavy and with the wind, drifts are starting to form on the edge of the road. The blacktop is getting harder and harder to see and he’s doing his best to keep the vehicle in between the lines. He won’t voice his concern out loud though. You’ve already asked him six times if he feels comfortable to keep driving. He can hear your words over his head, We can stop for the night somewhere but no, that wasn’t part of the plan. You had to make it to the cabin tonight.

He smiles to himself as he hears you grumble under your breath. “It’s December 20th, how is no station playing Christmas music?”

He takes one hand off the wheel, reaching past you to open the glovebox, his knuckles skimming across your knee. “Here.” He says, digging through it and finding a classic Christmas cd.

You beam at him, “Oh perfect! But keep your hands on the wheel.”

He laughs but does as you command, turning his attention back to the road, hands on the steering wheel. You push the disk into the player, putting the case in the door pocket.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas starts playing and you smile, humming along softly. Tom’s smiling as well, sneaking glances at you out of the side of his eyes. His heart starts to beat faster as he thinks about his plan, about the cabin, about having you to himself for two days.

“Just tell her.” Harrison says, annoyed to be having this conversation for the millionth time.

“She’s my best friend Haz! I can’t just -”

Harrison holds up his hand, “First off, ouch.” He says gesturing to himself. Tom rolls his eyes, “Second, yes you can just tell her. You can’t keep doing this yourself, pining after her. She’s finally single and you have to just grow some fucking balls and tell her. And if she doesn’t like you, which I’d bet my life she does, you fucking deal with it and move on.”

Tom sighs, rubbing at his eyes. He hates that Harrison is right. “Fine, okay, you’re right.”

Harrison smirks, basking in the fact that Tom finally admitted it.

“But how do I tell her?”

Harrison narrows his eyes, “With your mouth?”

“You fucking prick, you know what I mean. I want to do something special.”

Harrison groans, “Not everything has to be a fucking production Tom. You could just tell her flat out.”

“Not when I’ve been in love with her for three years!” And fuck, has it really been that long??

“Fine alright, just… take her to dinner.”

“No.”

Harrison glares at Tom, “If you don’t want my help...”

“I want your help if it’s actually gonna be useful, dinner isn’t special.”

“What? Do you want to rent a hot air balloon and bring expensive wine and dinner in a picnic basket and confess your love from 600 meters up?”

Harrison gapes when he sees Tom actually considering it. “No you fucking div, that’s way too much.”

“Then help me!” Tom whines.

“Christ, alright.” Harrison takes a deep breath and actually does some thinking. Clearly Tom can’t be left alone with this. “What about your parents cabin?”

Tom’s shoulders slump, “The one we’re all going to next week? Yeah I definitely want to do this in front of you lot.”

“Take her up there before us. Harry and I can come up with some excuse for all of us to not be there until Sunday or something. That gives you two nights alone with her to do it. Chop some wood for her, be manly and sweep her off her feet. Light the fireplace, say the heat doesn’t work so you have cuddle under some blankets.”

The gears start turning in Tom’s head, “Yeah... yeah! You’re goddamn genius, Haz.”

45 minutes later and he’s turning down the seclusive road leading to the cabin, relieved to have made it. The trees bend and twist above head as he drives and when the cabin comes into view, he can sense your excitement. He glances over and sees you smiling, you look at him, eyes sparkling and he’s grinning back at you.

“It’s like it’s from a movie.” You say dreamily as he cuts the engine. The moon is full and even though his headlights are off you can still see clearly. His shoes crunch under the snow as he steps out, popping the trunk to get your bags.

“I can’t believe I’ve never brought you here before.” He says throwing your duffle over his shoulder as he grabs his own.

“Yeah what the hell Holland, I thought you loved me?”

You have no idea.

“And let me carry my bag, I’m not helpless.” You say as you shut the trunk, catching up to him and bumping your hip with his as you walk towards the front porch.

He smiles, bumping you back, “I know, I’m being gentlemanly.”

“Well then let me get the door for you, sir.” You propose, reaching into the front pocket of his jeans to fish out the keys. He sucks in a breath as your fingers ghost along his thigh.

You work the lock and step inside. Tom follows, setting your bags inside as he closes the door. You flick on the lamps around the living room, the soft yellow lighting filling the room.

“Oh my god Tom, it’s just as cute inside as it is outside.”

He can’t stop smiling as he watches you flitter around the space, checking out the two bedrooms and then you notice the ladder, “There’s a loft! Tom, please tell me we’re sleeping in the loft?!”

He laughs, nodding, “Anything you want, y/n.”

And he’s so happy seeing you this happy. And he thinks about how tight the living space is up in the loft, how there’s only a single queen mattress up there, how the small fireplace in the living room is really the only heat you’ll have. It’ll be chilly up there and all he wants to do is pull you close and tell you how his heart races every time you touch him, smile at him, laugh at something he said, say his name, call him Tommy. He fucking melts.

“Tom?”

“Huh?”

You laugh, legs dangling off the ledge of the loft. “Throw me our bags.”

“Nah I got them.”

But it’s awkward, climbing up a ladder with a duffle bag thrown over each shoulder. And you haven’t moved, arms crossed over your chest, eyebrow cocked in I told you so sort of way. He grabs the railing on either side of you and stares you down. You purse your lips and he has to remind himself that he can’t just kiss that expression off your face.

Finally you laugh, moving out of the way so he can crawl up, “You’re so stubborn!”

He laughs too, throwing the duffles off to the side, “So are you.”

You smile, “Yeah, two peas.”

Tom finds a bottle of whiskey in the fridge later and you gag as soon as you see it.

“Nope, no way.”

“Ah come on! We’ll pour it in tumblers and drink by the fire and pretend we’re old snobbish white men.”

A small chuckle leaves your lips and he knows he has you. He tilts his head to the bottle while he digs out the glasses. Reluctantly, you grab it and follow him into the living room.

There’s enough wood left over from the last time he’d been up here to heat the cabin through the night. He grabs the matches and stacks a couple logs into the fireplace. You gather some pillows and blankets from the couch and toss them onto the floor.

The whiskey goes down easy for the both of you, faces red from laughing and the heat of the fire. The more he drinks the heavier everything feels, every touch, every time you say his name.

You’re between his legs, head in his lap, and he’s not really sure how you got there. You keep fumbling with the edge of his sweater drunkenly, smiling up at him as you tell him a story. His whole nervous system feels fried. Your fingertips keep brushing against his stomach and the skin feels torched under your touch.

Tom looks down, counting your lashes as they lay against your cheeks. Your eyes are getting heavy. He lifts his leg to get his arm underneath you, “C’mon love, time for bed.”

You sigh happily into his arm as you both stand, “Okay, love.” You return, teasing him for the overuse of the pet name. He blushes.

He puts the fireplace screen up and turns the lights off, hanging back nervously as he watches you climb the ladder, hands suspended in the air in case he has to catch you. When you get to the top you look back down at him and his hands drop.

“I’m not that drunk,” you say proudly considering the amount of whiskey you drank. “You know I can handle my alcohol Tom.”

He laughs, knowing you’re right and he climbs up to you. When he reaches the top, you’ve turned your back to him, stripping out of you shirt and he watches as you deftly squeeze the clasp on your bra. It falls from your arms and he feels the air leave his lungs.

He turns, feeling like a creep, blush heavy on his cheeks, he can feel it. He groans internally, you’ve changed in front of him before but it all feels different because he couldn’t do anything about it before. You always had a boyfriend and Tom would never. But now, he’s got so much he wants to say that could completely change the dynamic between the two of you, whether good or bad is yet to be determined.

He strips down to his boxers, annoyed with himself. And when he turns he knows what to expect but that doesn’t change the fact that his heart starts racing. You're wearing an old tshirt of his, one he gave you years ago, and no pants. And god he should sleep in more clothing but he never has before when you’ve shared a bed and he’s told you a million times how he always gets so hot when he sleeps and he doesn’t want to be weird about any of this… fuck.

You crawl into bed, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil and look back at him. “Gonna come to bed or just stand there all night?”

He tries to laugh but it’s tight, he feels like can’t fill his lungs properly.

He gets into bed and you immediately cuddle into his side, arm draped across his stomach, head buried in the crook of his neck. He can feel the hammering of his heart and he worries you can hear it too. God is it as fucking loud to you as it is to him?

He takes in a deep breath, hand rubbing along your back as he pulls you in closer.

“Y/n?”

You hum and he feels you shift, tilting your head up to him. His heart clenches then, what if you don’t want him, what if you don’t see him like that, what if…? The fear paralyzes him and can’t say it out loud, not yet. Because if you say no, if you say you don’t feel the same way… he doesn’t know what he’ll do. So he takes this moment for his own, selfishly, to feel you in his arms, legs tangled together because if you don’t want to be with him like this, he can at least have tonight.

“Goodnight, love” he musters out, voice soft.

You hug him closer, “Goodnight, Tommy.”

You grind against him, lips on his neck and he whines into your ear. He grips your hips tighter, angry that you’re still in your underwear but he’ll take anything he can get.

“I’m so wet for you Tommy.”

His cock aches and he wants your kiss, wants to feel what it’s like to be inside you, wants your moans against his lips. He wants, wants, wants.

“Gonna make cum just like this.” He groans. He doesn’t want it like this but your movements aren’t stopping and he has no self control to stop you himself.

“Yeah,” you purr in his ear, “cum for me Tom.”

He gasps, eyes snapping open as his heart hammers in his chest. You stir against him, fingers skidding across his stomach and he clenches. His cock twitches in his boxers and he can feel the wet spot he’s leaving on the fabric.

You’re tangled together still and he hears your breathing change. No, please no.

“Tom? Are you okay?”

He grunts, moving away from you and you untangle your limbs. “Yeah,” his voice is hoarse and he throws his legs over the side of the bed, trying to figure out how to make sure you don’t see his obvious erection as he calculates the distance from the bed to the ladder. “Just a weird dream.”

He feels your hand on his back and he jumps, “Sorry!” You pull your hand away, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No!” He shouts, glancing at you over his shoulder, “Fuck, sorry, no I just - um I’m gonna shower.”

He can feel your eyes on him and he can barely focus. He grabs his whole bag and throws it downstairs before awkwardly climbing down the ladder, doing his best to shield his crotch from your view.

He closes the bathroom door and locks it. Just to be safe. He squeezes his eyes shut and his dream replays behind his eyelids, “Fuck.”

He strips out of his boxers and turns the water on. He steps into the tub and turns the shower head on, the water hasn’t even fully warmed up yet but he has to touch himself. As soon as he wraps his hand around his cock he can feel you grinding down on him. His eyes slip shut and he can see you, he can hear you praising him, panting in his ear.

A small moan slips past his lips and immediately he presses them into a thin line. The cabin is small, he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye if you were to hear him.

He strokes himself faster, dizzy with arousal from the dream. It felt so real, he could smell you, feel you under his fingers. He squeezes the head of his cock, the tightness in his groin building and he gasps when he cums, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying your name out loud.

He sags back against the shower wall, panting, haunted by the ghost of your touch across his skin.

You’re dressed when he gets out of the bathroom, touching up your makeup in the mirror by the front door. He watches you for moment, mouth popped open slightly as you apply mascara. He turns away, reminding himself he can’t just stare without it being weird. He misses the way you watch him through the mirror.

There’s a small town just a few minutes away and you head in to get more alcohol and some food. It’s cloudy but the storm has passed. Snow is piled high everywhere and you comment how it feels like you’ve been dropped into a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

He bites his tongue.

It’s early afternoon when you get back to the cabin. You’re unloading the groceries when he clears his throat, “Wanna help me chop some wood for the fire?”

You smirk at him, “You mean do I wanna watch you chop some wood?”

He shrugs, smiling, “I mean I can put a show on for you if you want.”

You laugh, leaning against the kitchen counter, “I do always enjoy a show.”

He heads outside and you follow. The axe is in the shed behind the cabin and there’s an old stump, riddled with cuts and gashes, sitting in the middle of the backyard. There’s a stack of logs piled high close by, most with a circumference that would rival your wingspan.

“These logs are massive.” You say.

“Yeah, dad has a logging friend up this way so he always makes sure we’ve got enough to keep the place warm.”

He sets the axe down next to the old stump and grabs the first log. He positions it how he wants, acutely aware of your eyes on him. When he’s happy, he grabs the axe and goes through the motions of chopping the log in half, feeling the weight of the axe in his hands. He brings the axe around again, following through quickly and with the force it needs. The crack of the log echoes around the trees as it splits in two.

He hears you gasp, and he glances up at you as he arranges the two halves off to the side. Your eyes are wide, mouth parted slightly and pride swells in his chest.

“Holy shit, Tom.”

He smiles, “What? Did you think I was all talk?”

“No! I - yeah I don’t know. I just didn’t expect… you made that look so easy?”

He smiles wider, “Well, you know I don’t like brag but-”

You laugh, “Bullshit, you love to brag. Which again brings up the fact that I didn’t know you could chop wood.”

“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.”

“Oh fuck off, I’m complementing you, ya asshole.” But you’re laughing still and this part of the plan is definitely chalked up to as a success.

The rest of the afternoon passes by like a soft tune, easy and comfortable. You bring the halves of the log inside and stack them next to the fireplace. Cook pasta on the gas stove, spilling marinara sauce only twice. And soon you’re settled in on the pillows in front a fire burning logs Tom chopped up for you.

“Turns out Hollywood is actually kind of rugged.” You say, smiling over your glass.

Tom winks, flexing his biceps at you and you push his shoulder, laughing.

You move in closer, cuddling into his side, watching the fire crack. “I love spending time you Tom. You know that, right?”

His heart rate picks up and he wraps his arm around your waist. “I know. I do too. I -” he clears his throat, hands starting to feel a little clammy.

He just can’t bring himself to say out loud, not yet. He reaches for his drink and takes a large swig. Drunk Tom has way more confidence than sober Tom.

“You had a sex dream about me last night, didn’t you?”

He chokes on his drink, “I - what?”

You take another sip and put your drink aside. You look him in the eyes as you shift in his arm, pressing against him. He swallows thickly. “You were hard when you got up. And all that chopping wood today? Trying to be manly for me?”

“I - I didn’t - I was trying -” to be sexy? No, he can’t fucking say that out loud.

Your hand is on his thigh and you reach up to take his drink out of his hand, setting it out of the way. You crawl into his lap, straddling his hips and rake you fingers up through his scalp, rubbing at his head. His eyes slip shut at the sensation. “Are you ever gonna tell me how you feel?”

His eyes snap open. You’re staring back, he can see the challenge swimming in your irises. Just say it you fucking coward. His heart is pounding, and if he were to take his hands off your hips he knows they’d be shaking.

He takes in a deep breath, “Y/n, I - I love you.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his, “I know.”

Finally you kiss him, lips slipping together, and those knots and nerves melt away. You want him. You want him the way he wants you. But he has to know more, so he pulls away, eyes searching yours and he can’t stop smiling.

“Really?”

You smile back, eyes crinkling, “Yeah, really. And I love you too.”

You kiss him again, moving your hands to get up under his shirt, pushing it up and off his body. His lips find yours again, pulling you in closer. Your hands are on his stomach, fingers pressing along his skin and he’s trembling under your touch, overwhelmed with the idea of possibilities laid out in front of him.

You pull away to kiss along his jaw, “Wanna take me to bed?” You breath against his skin.

“Fuck yes.” He moans.

You stand, pulling him to his feet and you’re both giddy with anticipation. He watches you climb up the ladder and realizes he can finally put his hands on your ass. So he does, reaching up to squeeze one of your cheeks.

You stop and give him a look. He shrugs, “I can do that now so you’re probably gonna have to get used to my hands all over you.”

You bite your lip, sitting on the ledge of the loft as he climbs up. He braces his hands on either side of you when he reaches the top and you tilt your head up to him, “That’s a two way street, love.” You murmur, tracing the outline of his cock through his jeans.

He sucks in a harsh breath, “Fuck me.”

You smile, kissing him quickly, “Yeah,” before getting up and moving towards the bed.

You strip down to your underwear and he shucks out of his jeans. He’s reaching for you when, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any condoms with me.”

“Oh, uh,” he blushes before walking over to his bag and digging out a box. He smiles at you, slightly embarrassed.

“So you had plans for us this weekend, huh?”

He laughs, “I’m nothing if not hopeful.”

He sets the box on the bed. You crawl onto the mattress and his hands find your body, settling on top of you as you lay down. Your hips slot together and you grind up against him, feeling how hard he is for you. He moans into your mouth, rocking back to meet your movements.

That overwhelming sensation returns and he feels himself twitch in his boxers. You open your legs wider to him, hooking a thigh around his waist.

You arch up into him to get your bra undone, tossing it aside before pushing him up for a moment so you can get your underwear off. “C’mon Tommy, want you inside me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he fumbles to get out of his boxers quickly, groping around to find the condoms. While he’s reaching for them, you wrap your hand around his cock and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“God, I’ve been dreaming about this cock for so long. I’d fuck myself with my dildo and pretend it was you.”

He presses his head into your shoulder, whining as you touch him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.” He gasps, thrusting up into your hand.

Finally, he just rips the box open, condoms spilling across the bed. You laugh, hand stilling and he can think straight again for a moment.

He sits back, ripping into a packet and with shaky hands he rolls the rubber down his length. He feels your eyes on him and as he glances up he realizes this is the first time you’re both really seeing each other naked. His breathing is already labored but looking at you, naked, legs spread for him the world stops spinning for a moment.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He whispers. “Wanna explore your body with my mouth, then my hands, everywhere.”

He accentuates his point by running his hands up your body, squeezing your breasts, rubbing your nipples and marveling as you arch into his touch, sighing.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives, lover. No rush.”

Yes we do.

He pushes into you slowly, watching your expression change, the pleasure written across your face. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, your pussy is so hot and tight and wet around him.

Your lips find his and he moans into your mouth as you start rocking up to meet his thrusts. Your fingernails dig into his back, scratching at his skin as his thrusts increase. He shivers at the feeling, thinking about how the marks will be there tomorrow, marks you left on him.

You break the kiss to breathe and he rests his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours. He grabs at your arm, sliding down the length of it to intertwine your fingers. You squeeze his hand and you can see the emotion pooling in his eyes. The build up of three years pouring out of each of you in this moment.

“I love you.” He breaths.

“I love you, too.”

You cum with his name on your lips, squeezing his hand, and he’s done for. Burying his head in the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin as he pulses inside you, shaking from the intensity of it.

“Holy shit.” You laugh, out of breath.

He’s smiling, lifting his head so he can look at you, “Yeah, I’m gonna need to do that at least three more times tonight.”

You glance over at the condoms spilled out across the bed, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

***

Harrison puts the key in the lock, opening the door and he’s surprised when it’s quiet inside. It’s close to 11am. He glances around the cabin, the fireplace is empty and he can see two half empty glasses of whiskey on the floor, along with Tom's shirt.

He narrows his eyes and that’s when he hears a moan of Tom’s name. His eyes go wide as he sputters, slamming the front door shut behind him to alert you two he’s here but also to stop all the Holland brothers from walking in on this.

“Hey! Yo! Like really happy for you guys but we’re here! Please don’t come downstairs naked!”

He can hear you cussing and there’s a loud thump that he’s sure was Tom falling off the bed. Tom peaks over the ledge of the loft, cheeks red, blanket wrapped around his waist.

“Hey mate. Uh, we’ll be right down!”

Harrison sees you peek around Tom’s shoulder and you wave at him, blush on your cheeks.

He smirks, “Hi y/n,”

“Hi Harrison.”

You both manage to make it downstairs and actually look presentable before the brothers come inside. Their voices boom around the cabin, stuffing their faces with snacks from the cabinets.

“So you guys are finally together huh?” Sam asks around the cookie in his mouth.

You nod, smiling as Tom reaches down to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Harry nods, “Cool.”

“Yeah whatever, I just wanna sleep in the loft!” Paddy says, moving towards the ladder.

Tom chokes on the crisp in his mouth, eyes going wide as he looks at you.

“No!”

Taglist:

@xximaweirdoxx @selfcarecapmain @billythebully09 @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @honeymarvel @billieishottttttttt @lovinnholland @oh-annaa @little-miss-naill @holland-in-disguise @wordless08 @multifandomgirl-us @tiktok-spideyy @fangirlfree @theolwebshooter @headlights95

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #my writing

2K notes · View notes

hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

Note

hiya! can i requesta blurb with 17 & 22 (w/ tom) from the prompt list please? if you could make it bantery but also with sexual tension that’d be awesome! thanks loveee

you most certainly can! thanks for officially kicking off the blurb fest! :-)

these ideas are both full of potential for some serious *gulp* sexual tension so this was a blast.

tom x fem reader | contains language, alcohol use, and sexy undertones | word count: 2.2k | enjoy!

-------------------------------------------------------------------

17. “Are you really taking his side against me?”

22. “Come over here and make me.”

Your ears pound and you can feel the vibrations of the house music on full blast in the cup clasped between your hands. You needed this, you earned this — you tried to convince yourself after every sip of that strong brown liquid in your cup that it was okay to take another. The night was becoming hazy, but not enough to diminish the hurt you felt, the pain that was caused by your on-again/off-again friend Tom Holland. It was no surprise you were mad at him, again, because you were convinced he only existed to make your life difficult. With his constant flirting and advances when he had too much adrenaline, wishy-washy romantic confessions, and mind games he played with you, you constantly wondered what the benefit of your friendship even was. You weren’t sure you knew anymore, but one thing’s for sure — we want what isn’t ours, and you wanted Tom. You hated that about him, and about yourself, but no matter how many times he made you angry, you still wanted him just as bad after a fight as you did on the good nights, when you’d spent the night watching old horror movies together and tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths.

You hear an unmistakably charming accent sneak up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a haphazard hug, voice slurred. “Hheyyy, Y/N!” Harrison, the third musketeer, kissed your cheek and joined you at the bar.

“Hey, Harrison. Having fun?”

“You know meee,” he threw his hands up in the air, drink splashing around his feet. “Alllways here for a good time!”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but couldn’t help but smile at his goofiness. You and Harrison were close, arguably closer than you were with Tom, as you only met him a few months ago through Harrison. He never made you crazy like Tom did, always knew what to say and when, but he did like to drink, which was just something you had to put up with. But you were used to it. It was worth it to keep him around as a best friend.

He put his arm back around your waist and started to sway you to the music, but you really weren’t in the mood, so to any stranger, he would’ve just looked like a drunk guy trying to grind up on an unwitting girl. Apparently, in the dim flashing lights, it looked like that to Tom, too.

Tom saw you and Harrison from across the bar, after he had just finished gulping down drink number who-the-fuck-cares, and felt a heat bubbling up in his chest. Who the fuck does Harrison think he is, dancing up on his girl? I mean, maybe they didn’t know she was his, but he’d be damned if he had to stand by while you were being danced up on by his out-of-bounds friend. I mean, god, just look at you. He felt every bone in his body alight with desire to feel you on him again, he wanted to tear that dress off and claim you for his own. She’s mine, and nobody else can have her.

He steadied himself and made his way over to the pair of you.

You glanced over at Tom, beelining toward you, and silently hoped he’d get turned around and forget what he was doing. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. It was your night with Harrison, to go out and forget your troubles, dance the night away…Tom had just seen where you were on social media and decided to crash the party. Some audacity this asshole has, just showing up here after what he did the other night, sending you those videos...with all of those nameless girls...

Harrison seemed oblivious to the incoming threat and ordered another round of shots from the bartender. He saw Tom a second too late.

“Tommm! Hey, we-“

Tom cut him off with a shove to the shoulder, away from you. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?” he snarled.

Harrison became wide-eyed and very clearly couldn’t process what was going on at a fast enough rate, and fell back against you for support. “What are you talking about? I just bought us another round-“

Tom shoved him again, a little harder this time, making sure not to make direct eye contact with you. “Leave her alone, she’s not interested,” he heaved.

You and Harrison shared a weary glance, and you turned to confront Tom. “Tom, he’s not doing anything wrong, we see each other like siblings,” he rolled his eyes at your sentence. Usually, he is fine with your dynamic with Harrison, doesn’t seem to mind being the third wheel unless he’s in a mood to stick his tongue down your throat. Which, admittedly, had happened on numerous accounts.

But, tonight, there must’ve been something in the musty club air, because he was looking like he wanted to cross a line.

“You have no idea what he wants behind your back,” Tom started. “He’s been trying to fuck you since you were in uni together.”

Harrison lit up at those words. “How fucking dare you, Tom, I have never said anything like that in my life.” He pulled himself back together and stood a foot taller. “You’re drunk, man. Go home.”

Tom had fire in his eyes, and looked at you before shoving Harrison back a third time. “I may be drunk but I’m not stupid. She’s off limits, you know that.” He took your arm and tried to pull you towards him. “Y/N, let’s go.”

You immediately pulled your arm back and glared at Tom. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you drunk asshole.” Tom seemed hurt by your words, but not enough to stop him from his tirade.

“Well I’m not leaving you alone with him!” He practically yelled over the thumping music. “I don’t trust him, now,” his eyes closed in a prolonged blink, showing his clear intoxication. Harrison stepped in front of you, shielding you from Tom’s stare. “Get out of here, man.”

Tom continued to refute and you pushed your way in between the quarreling boys.

“Tom, he’s right. You’re being insane. Get out of here and go sober up somewhere.”

“Oh, so you’re really gonna take his side against me?” he spat at you, every word stinging more. “After all we’ve been through together? You choose him over us?”

You couldn’t help but tear up at the thought that he could possibly be so oblivious to how he treated you day in and day out, like you were disposable. He only wanted you when he was lonely and there was nobody else.

“There is no us,” you said, swallowing your emotions enough to speak. “You’ve made that clear. Go the fuck home.”

That finally made Tom shut his mouth, and he looked from you, to Harrison, and back to you, defeated. Without another word, he stormed out of the club and disappeared into the night. You turned to Harrison, and he just sighed and shrugged. He turned to the bartender, and told him to make those shots a double.

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The next day, you sulked around your apartment, headache killing you from all of the alcohol, heart aching from your fight with Tom. You knew you probably deserved better than someone constantly stringing you along. But when he wanted you, and you always wanted him, things were magical. You could swear that in those moments that he opened up to you, you could see he desperately loved you too.

The physical connection was definitely there. Feeling him on you, his breath hot against your neck, his intoxicating smell, it drove you crazy like nothing else did. And the way he talked when you were intertwined was heaven. He told you that you were the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. He told you nobody turns him on like you do. Nobody feels the way you do. He told you he loved you.

But that was over now. He clearly only saw you as a piece of ass, and you needed to swallow that truth. Your thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from your phone.

Tom: Hey, Y/N, are you home?

You didn’t respond, and put your phone on silent. Not even 5 minutes later, you hear a knock at your door.

You made the mistake of opening it and saw Tom’s face, painted with remorse, eyes baggy from the night before. You wanted to slam the door, tell him to get lost, but that small part of you that loved him planted your feet in the ground and kept your arms at bay from swinging the door shut.

“What do you want?” your voice came out sounding sadder than you expected.

“Can we talk?” “You can’t just show up here unexpected, you know.”

“You weren’t answering your phone, and I was already here when I texted…” he trailed off, realizing he was getting away from the point. You moved aside so he could step into the apartment.

“Y/N, I just wanted to say how sorry I am-“ you put a hand up to get him to stop talking.

“Tom, I don’t want to hear it.”

He opened his mouth again to speak, but you continued.

“I’m tired of letting you throw me around like I don’t mean anything, like my feelings don’t matter…” you wanted to sound dignified but just sounded pitiful. “It’s too much to take. You send me videos of you partying with other girls, ignore my texts and calls for days at a time, and then suddenly we’re an item just because you don’t like seeing me dance with someone else? It’s idiotic.” Tom stood silently while you continued on, words unwillingly pouring out of you at this point.

“I care about you so much, and I just wish you actually cared about me too. But I guess that’s too much to ask. I just don’t get it, like, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“Y/N…” he was trying to gather his thoughts, and you couldn’t help but let a tear slip down your cheek. He noticed it immediately, moving closer towards you, swiping his thumb across your cheek to rid you of the hot teardrop. All you wanted to do was collapse into him, hug him, kiss him, wanted to hear him tell you soberly that he wanted you as much as you did him. Even after all this. What was wrong with you?

“I don’t know how to make you believe me, but I only get drunk when I’m around you because it keeps me from feeling these scary things I do for you,” he started. “You’re just such a good girl and I don’t want to ruin you. I don’t want to corrupt you, rope you into a relationship with me just to see it burn to the ground. I don’t want that to happen, because if I lose you like that, you’re gone forever. And I don’t want that.”

You pulled back to look at him, trying to read in his face if he actually meant what he was saying. He put up a soft hand to cup your cheek, and feeling his warmth made everything feel so much better. You suddenly realized how hot he looked in his grungy post-drunk state, and your mind flashed with an image of you on top of him, embracing forgiveness, letting him prove to you how much he cared. But it was only momentary, and you were brought back to earth watching him trying to stare into your soul.

“I’m so afraid to be with you because of how much I want to.” His words didn’t really make sense to you, but you loved hearing them anyway. He seemed to sense your changing mood and went on. “Y/N, when we’re together, I- I lose all self control, I feel like I can’t breathe without you, and god, the way you look laid out underneath me-“ his eyes went wide with the words he spoke, and you stifled a chuckle. He eyed you up and down, and something in him changed- his eyes became a deeper brown, his grip on your face and neck becoming a little stronger. “Seeing someone else up on your body made me realize I just want it to be mine, all mine, and nobody else’s.” Your anger started to transform into lust, moving closer to him as he kept speaking. He moved his hands around your waist and pulled you into his body. “I know we might be fire and gasoline, baby, but I’m crazy for it…” he kissed you, or you kissed him- you can’t remember. All you cared about was the feeling of his lips on yours, the tension radiating between you, and you let yourself turn all of the hurt and anger you felt into pure energy.

“How do I know I can trust you?” you breathed, pulling back from the kiss. He licked his lips staring at yours and you felt your stomach drop, but kept taking paces backward until you were standing under the doorframe to your bedroom, awaiting his response. He walked slowly toward you.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see. I’ll prove it,” he almost growled, undressing you with his eyes. “Believe me.”

“Believe you?” you lowered your voice and batted your eyelashes. “Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

That did the trick. He quickly moved toward you and picked you up, hoisting you against the wall of your bedroom.

“Oh, with pleasure.”

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that was hella angsty and I loved it! hope you did too! keep sending in those requests! xoxo

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letterboxd · 3 years

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Together, Alone.

Together Together writer and director Nikole Beckwith talks to Ella Kemp about platonic love, pragmatic pregnancy, melancholic comedy and being inspired by Magnolia’s rain of frogs.

“The three of us were having our own platonic love affairs while we were making the film, which was very, very cool.” —Nikole Beckwith on working with Ed Helms and Patti Harrison

Back before vaccinations began, when we were still looking for glimmers of hope, the virtual 2021 Sundance Film Festival delivered us an abundance of joy: the family dramedy CODA, Questlove’s extraordinary piece of history, Summer of Soul, the delightful Sesame Street documentary and some precious smaller stories, too. One of those is the low-key revolutionary Together Together, Nikole Beckwith’s “visual representation of a warm hug”.

A platonic love story about surrogacy and solo parenting, Together Together stars Ed Helms as Matt, a single man in his forties who desperately wants to be a father. Interviewing women to carry his baby, he chooses twenty-something Anna, played by Patti Harrison, who completely nails her first feature leading role (she has previously appeared in A Simple Favor and Raya and the Last Dragon).

Over the nine months that follow, the pair boundary-shift as they navigate their unconventional relationship. They’re not together-together, but the bond between them is real, and strong. “Matt and Anna are loners, but they’re comfortable and functional in that space,” Beckwith explains. “And part of their connection is recognizing and respecting that in each other.”

Ed Helms and Patti Harrison in ‘Together Together’.

Flipping the narrative on surrogacy stories, Together Together encourages audiences to think about family in a new way. “Matt is in this strange middle zone,” Beckwith explains. “He’s not part of a community with a ton of children, and he’s not out partying at bars or living the child-free life. So the key to moving out of that space is taking matters into his own hands and redefining his future, and his idea of and desire for parenthood comes from himself—not from wistful fantasies romanticizing the idea of having kids.”

Anna’s story is just as clearly drawn: positive, rational, generous. “The last thing I wanted was to see her looking at children, with her hand on her belly, thinking ‘How am I going to give this up?’,” the filmmaker says. “I think that’s a really dominant way into surrogacy stories, but surrogacy is positive, it’s additive, and Anna knows herself. She knows what she’s capable of.” It’s a rare depiction of pregnancy on screen. “When a woman becomes pregnant, they’re not completely eclipsed by that fact. It doesn’t become their primary identity. So Anna is being very pragmatic about that experience.”

Together Together embraces “alone-ness” in a reassuring way, especially coming after a year in which many of us have experienced solitude involuntarily. Originally from Newburyport, Massachusetts, Beckwith spends a lot of time alone, but is firm that loneliness and solitude are not the same thing. Her story about the ambiguous spaces we inhabit when we don’t have a partner has its roots in real-life relationships.

“We just couldn’t get enough of each other,” Beckwith says of one male friend who changed her life when she moved to New York, far away from the small town she had grown up in. “I was just totally electrified and excited by them, and it was so hard for me to figure out that we were falling in platonic love. I hadn’t realized that was a kind of love you could fall in and just thought, ‘how beautiful’.”

The timelessness of non-romantic relationships is reflected in the film’s wondrous piano score, “a strange, poetic stream of consciousness” composed by Alex Somers, who also scored Captain Fantastic and Honey Boy. It is a hat-tip to Nora Ephron’s films, “those two-hander relationship movies in which the score is largely piano standard,” Beckwith explains. “We didn’t want it to sound old, while still having a whiff of nostalgia, while still feeling new, but in a timeless way instead of an overtly modern way.”

Beckwith looked for inspiration in all the right places. She nods to the dynamic between Melissa McCarthy, Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph in Bridesmaids as a depiction of platonic love that set the bar for Together Together. For examples of a middle-aged man who oscillates between being alone and lonely, Bill Murray’s performance in Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation led the way. And in terms of the first film to light a fuse in her moviemaking brain, she has Paul Thomas Anderson to thank.

“I had a pretty incredible experience watching Magnolia when it was in theaters,” she remembers of the filmmaker’s 1999 emotional epic. "When the frogs fell from the sky, I was like, ‘So you can do anything?’ And then every time William H. Macy turns on his car radio and Gabrielle’s ‘Dreams’ comes on, for some reason that opened a pocket in my mind which was like, ‘These are decisions that somebody is making.’ And that was the first moment, with those two scenes, that I realized movies are made.

“I hadn’t ever thought of the rubber-to-the-road aspects of movies coming from someone specific. Being from a small town, I’d never seen a movie like that before. Those two moments really kind of made me think about it in a new way—it was very cool.”

Writer-director Nikole Beckwith.

Just as Anderson has brought dramatic nuance out of renowned comic actors (most notably, Adam Sandler in Punch Drunk Love), Together Together also asks us to adjust our expectations of our modern-day comedy heroes. It is packed to the rafters with American indie comedy stars (Tig Notaro, Anna Konkle, Sufe Bradshaw, Julio Torres, Jo Firestone and many more), but plays for laughs only where it feels right. The tone is held throughout by Harrison and Helms, who were, says Beckwith, “grounded and present”.

Leave your memories of Helms as office nerd Andy Bernard at the door, and expect a softer Harrison than the acerbic comedy titan who greets you on Instagram or the TV show Shrill. It was a shot in the dark that such potent chemistry would materialize. “I mean, what is chemistry?” Beckwith says, when asked about the electric feeling her leads emanate. “It’s an elusive magic—you can’t invent it, you can’t count it. It just is or it isn’t, and we were so lucky that it was.”

“They’re both such gifted comedians that there was no doubt in my mind that we could take the things that fuel the stuff we know them for, and just switch it around,” says Beckwith. “I think in order to be a truly terrific comedian you have to be holding hands with all the difficult, melancholy things about being alive, because that’s where comedy comes from and that’s what it relates to—and that’s why it’s so ubiquitous. We need it.”

Related content

Selome’s list of indie pregnancy dramedies that de-center the nuclear family

Melissa’s list of films about daddy issues, single dads/fathers, being a dad/father, grandfathers

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

‘Together Together’ is in limited US theatrical release from April 23, and on VOD from May 11, via Bleecker Street.

#together together #ed helms #patti harrison #directed by women #female director #female film directors #nikole beckwith #nicole beckwith #comedy #pregnancy #surrogacy #surrogate #solo parenting #films about pregnancy #julio torres #jo firestone #tig notaro #comedy film

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the-wretched-and-joyful · 4 years

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Stars Have Stories Too

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader

Word count: 1961

Requested:no

Prompts/AU: Dark Academia!Harrison AU.

Warning: some curse words, mention of sec

Summary: Will a rendezvous in the dark library change the dynamic of yours and Harrison’s relationship?

A/N: here’s the Dark Academia!au I promised about our beloved Haz. Sorry about any inaccuracies on the college, University and education front. Take this as it is, a fiction. And yes this will have a second part. (also i’m sorry if it doesn’t feel like a dark academia fic, i really tried.)

special mention to @fanficparker who’s post inspired this within my mind! blame her for any feels!

You should be excited, elated even for getting a full ride scholarship at Hartford, one of the finest colleges under Oxford University. And you would be elated, has it not been for your first week’s experience here.

It was, not horrible, but terrible indeed. The peers were, well, not exactly mean, but they weren’t nice either. Not to mention every class made you feel absolutely stupid, even literature, which was your strongest subject. So far you had made only one friend here, who was more likely to go out to exclusive parties every night than study. How she got such amazing school record was beyond you.

“Did you fight with Professor McArthur again?” you asked when you saw Amira sitting on a campus bench, her face looking like she just ate a whole lemon. By now the whole campus knew that both Amira and professor McArthur hated each other.

“LOOK at it” she throws her assignment at you “This deserves an A. But no he has to be an ass and give me B minus. He could give me a B, but no, he has to add that minus.”

You were just about to comfort her, but right then, Harrison appeared out of nowhere.

Quick introduction- Harrison Osterfield was probably one of the most decorated students in the campus. He was captain of the debate team, loved by professors (despite his tendency of asking unrelated questions and derailing the entire lecture at times) and he had a smile that could light up the room. The only problem with this nice guy? Well, he could be a jerk, and he had decided to focus all his jerk energy towards you from the first time you saw each other.

“You know, if you don’t like you grade, that’s fine, but why do you have to take it out on professor?” he asked rather impatiently. “I mean, he was in a perfectly good mood today, and now he is pissed and refused to give me access to the special section of the library!”

“Ooh, what, you were going to look for Nicholas Flammel in the restricted section there?” Amira snorts. “This assignment deserves an A, and yes I’m going to take it out on that unfair rat bas…”

“Let me see.” He almost snatches the papers out of your hands and skims through it. Once done he snorts and laughs a little “You’re lucky that you got a B minus. If I was grading this I’d have failed you.”

“That’s enough, will you just shut up?” you exploded. No matter how much fascination you held for this guy once (it lasted about two weeks btw) you were downright angry with him now. “Leave her alone and go see how you can appease McArthur to get access to your special books. Shoo!” you made a shooing motion, hoping he would go away.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a once over that makes you feel both turned on and angry. He had the guts to treat you like the way he did, and then pretend like you didn’t exist. “Apologize to the professor, and I mean it. Otherwise you will be the one getting me access to that library, how I don’t know.” And with that he walks away, throwing one last glance at you.

The rest of the day goes uneventful, except for the super pissed Prof and his class, where he went on a rant about ungrateful students and kept throwing daggers at Amira. But late at night, when everyone was asleep and you were sitting on the window seat of your dorm room (one of the best feature of the room) your mind kept going back to the way Harrison had looked at you.

Now, you’re no fool, and you know an ass-hole when you see one. But for some reason you didn’t want to believe that this was him. You’ve seen him how he is when he is not aware of your presence. He is amiable, if not downright friendly, he is charming (you had a suspicion that most of the professors in the college are in love with him) and he is smart. Incredibly smart. And yet he always treated you terribly. His behavior towards Amira you understood, as explained by the girl herself. They have known each other since high school, and have always had this kind of rivalry going on. But why he was like this with you, she had no idea.

You were still wondering about this next morning when walking to class when suddenly a hand covers you mouth and another holds onto your arm and drags you behind a big tree. You had decided you were going to scream once the hand was removed, but you didn’t because that hand belonged to the man you’ve just been thinking of.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” you whisper shout, afraid someone will see you guys together.

“What needs to be done.” Was he panting a little? He tucks his hand in his pocket and brings out a key. The key to the special section of the library, designated only for faculty. “I nicked McArthur’s key and made a duplicate, so that he doesn’t know his is missing. I’m going in tonight, and I want you to come with me.”

You didn’t know whether you should be surprised or shocked. “Why me? I thought you hated me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I do hate you.” Even though you knew it, hearing him say it stung, just a little. “But I also know that you need access to a certain dissertation on the mythological references in Paradise lost or your next paper.” He said with a smug smile. “And that’s why you are the perfect partner for this little crime.”

Now you were conflicted. You needed access to that dissertation. But you also knew that Harrison would rat you out the moment you guys were done. After thinking about it for 5 minutes, during which Harrison studied your face like he was going to paint it later, you shook your head.

“No. you’ll rate me out to McArthur the moment we are out of there.”

“I will rat you out, only if we get caught. And I know you’ll rat me out too, I have no doubts about that. And that’s why it is perfect. None of us are going to have each other’s back if we get caught. And that’s why we will look out for our own selves, by looking out for each other. And I’ll have you know that one performs best when they are performing for their owns elves.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you jerk yourself off at nights because no girl wants to sleep with you because you’re a condescending asshole?” you couldn’t keep yourself from saying this. It was the most convoluted logic you’ve ever heard of.

His face changed color from pink, to angry red. “Oh! Wouldn’t you like to know how I’m in bed?” He says, drawing a little close to you. Bringing his lips unnecessarily close to your ears, he whispers “tonight, at 1 am, near the back entrance of the library, wear something black.” And with that he leaves.

You debated with yourself the entire day, wondering if you really want to do this. You really need access to that paper, but you also didn’t want to get suspended. And on top of that there was also the chance of spending almost all night with Harrison in a library. It was one pro against two cons. But at the end of the day, the pro won.

You reach the library, 5 minutes later than you were supposed to. You were pretty sure that Harrison had already gone in, and that’s why you almost screeched when you see a human shape emerging out of nowhere from the side of the back entrance of the building.

“What the hell took you so long?” he hisses out.

“Sorry, but Amira was awake. I couldn’t sneak out.” You said, bring out your small flashlight.

“Are you crazy?” he takes the flashlight from your hand. “Turn this on and you announce our presence to everyone.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have night vision.” You hiss as both of you move to open the back door.

“Boo Hoo! Neither do I. Now shut up.” He says as he picks the lock of the door and it opens.

“How do you know to know that?” you say a little stunned. To be honest you didn’t expect him to open the door so easily.

“I’m a man of many talents” he says haughtily, and just as you were about to enter through the door, he holds onto your arm and whispers, “That’s something I tell the girls who actually sleep with me.” In the dark you couldn’t see it, but you could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

The library was creepy dark, with the looming shapes of bookshelves looking like huge trees in a forest. Even though he yelled at you outside, he actually took out the flashlight and turned it on.

“Okay, so first we get my book, and then your paper and scan it and go.”

“Wait why can’t we get my paper first?”

“Because dummy,” he says impatiently, “I know where to spot my book. Looking for your paper is going to take some time.” He says and without expecting any reply turns towards the astronomy section and marches off. You run after him, and by the time you catch up, he was already pulling a rather large copy of a book on constellations towards him.

“This is what you came here for? It’s not even your major!” you scoffed in disbelief.

He rolls his eyes and gives you one of his condescending looks “Not all of us are acquiring knowledge because it’s our major. Some like me, looking for it because they want it. Now let’s go find your paper.”

He was right. Looking for that specific dissertation on mythological symbolism in Milton’s Paradise Lost did take some time. But not long after, you had the scanned copy of the paper, Harrison had his book, and you both got out of the library. And by the time you did, you realized that the sky was turning a rosy red color, the color of sunrise.

Even though he could be intolerable at times, Harrison still got under your skin within those few hours. And that’s why as you turn to say your thanks with a smile on your face, you get a little taken aback by the expression on his face.

It was not the condescending look he usually had for you. No it was this different kind of expression. You only saw him looking like this when you sneakily observed him reading on the campus, or answering a tough question correctly in class.

It was clear he too was caught off guard. Both of you stood there a little awkwardly, something none of you ever done before. “So I guess this is it then.” You say, and he nods.

“Good luck with your paper.” He says, and you knew he means it genuinely.

“Good luck to you too, with whatever you are going to do with it.” You gesture towards the book tucked under his arm.

He laughs at that, a genuine laugh. “Yeah, well, see you in class then.” He waves at you before turning around, a little too fast, and walks away. The last few hours, and everything that happened, you couldn’t make a sense of it all. But you knew somewhere in your heart that your relationship with Harrison, whatever it was, will never be the same.

tagging @starlight-starks (idk if you wanted to be tagged or not, so i still tagged you!!)

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield imagines #harrison osterfield one shots #harrison osterfield x reader #haz osterfield imagines #haz osterfield one shots #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fanfic #dark academia!haz #anya writes #lost aesthetics

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Got Your Six | Tom Holland | pt 1

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

pairing - mob!Tom x reader word count - 4,257 warnings - language

summary - (Y/N) and her sister, April, think they’re in for a normal day at their family coffee shop, but two, new, intriguing customers come in and change everything.

(next)

“(Y/N), can you make a vanilla latte for Eleanor?”

“I’ve gotta warm up a muffin for Ted.”

“Okay, well, after that?”

“What are you doing?”

“Working register.”

“There’s no one in line, April.”

“But you never know when someone will show up!”

“I hate you.”

My sister, April, stuck her tongue out at me as I rolled my eyes with a smile. The microwave beeped, so I quickly took the chocolate chip muffin out and set it on a plate. I walked it over to one of the tables and gave it to Ted, a 60-or-so-year-old gentleman who was a regular customer at my family’s cafe, Bake and Brew.

Most of our customers were regulars. As one of the only bakeries in the neighborhood that had been running successfully for over twenty years, it made sense that we often knew the people who came in by name.

I worked with my sister, April -younger than me by two years- at the cafe every weekday over the summers from 6:00 in the morning when we opened until noon when our cousins -Robin and Daisy- clocked in. The bakery was a family business. My mom and aunt did more of the booking and keeping things while my dad and uncle did all the baking. We had been running that way since I was 18, so for about four years. It worked well, and my parents were relieved they didn’t need to get down on their hands and knees to convince April and I to keep working, even when we both moved out.

April was pretty much my best friend. It wasn’t that I didn’t have friends in college. It was just that not a lot of them lived in New York like I did. I graduated a month prior, so most of them already moved back to their hometowns. But that was fine by me, because I had April. She had been my right hand (wo)man for my whole life, and when I was with her, I didn’t need anyone else.

Except, as she would so often remind me, a boyfriend. I needed a boyfriend. Or at least she said I needed a boyfriend. I didn’t think I needed anyone. I was quite content being romantically on my own. No one had sparked my interest in that way since high school, and as long as I had my vibrator, I didn’t need a man.

“What about for companionship?” April would always tell me.

“That’s what I have you for,” I would say back.

“Whatever,” she would say with a roll of her eyes. “I’m only gonna break your heart.”

I moved out of my parents house as soon as I turned 18, and April moved in with me two years later. We were a dynamic duo, unstoppable by anyone.

The bell above the cafe door jingled just as I was finishing Eleanor’s latte. I brought it over to her table while April greeted our customers- two boys I didn’t recognize. The first boy was shorter than the second, but not by much. They both had sharp and striking features. The arms of the first boy were more defined than the second, but his eyes weren’t as bright. In fact, his whole vibe was darker. Not the clothes he was wearing, but the impression he was giving off. His jaw was more tense, his eyes darting around more suspiciously. The second boy, however, had his eyes locked on April. And he was smiling. I, like the protective sister I was, went to join her at the counter.

“What can I get started for you boys today?” I asked. April shot me an annoyed look, but I kept my eyes on the boys. Now that I was standing right in front of them with only a counter between us, I could take in more details. The taller boy was wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket, while the shorter was wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of black slacks. His eyes were dark brown, but the other’s were bright blue. I decided they weren’t brothers.

“Two black coffees,” the shorter boy said at the same time the other said, “What do you recommend?” with his eyes still on April.

“I always like the Americano,” April said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was a tell tale sign she was attracted to someone. “It’s basically espresso and hot water. It’s like black coffee but better.”

“I’m sold,” the boy said with a smile. “An Americano for me, and a black coffee for my equally bitter friend here.” He tried to clap the other boy on the shoulder, but he nudged him away with a roll of his eyes.

April rang up their orders while I poured the shorter boy some coffee. “I haven’t seen you two here before,” I said, trying to catch his eye as I handed him his drink. I was suspicious. “We usually know everyone who comes in here.” the shorter boy ignored me, but the taller gave me a smile.

“We don’t usually stop by this end of town,” he explained.

“What brings you by?” April asked, handing him the Americano.

“Just had some business to take care of,” he said. He took a sip of his drink, and his smile widened. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but there he did it before my eyes. I understood why April was charmed, but I was too annoyed with the other boy to really focus on anything else. “This is perfect,” he said, raising his cup a bit. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” April said, the apples of her cheeks turning red. She stuck her hand out for the boy to shake. “I’m April.” She nodded her head in my direction. “This ray of sunshine is my sister, (Y/N).” I gave the boy a sarcastic smile, but he seemed unphased.

“I’m Harrison,” he said, shaking April’s hand. “This is Tom.” The boy didn’t look up from his phone as he gave me and April a wave. It made me roll my eyes again. Tom locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket.

“Let’s go, Harrison,” he said. Harrison nodded and gave me and April (mostly April) one last dazzling smile.

“I’ll be sure to stop by again sometime, April,” he said, shooting her a wink. “It was nice to meet you two.” He looked at me, and I just sent him another patronizing smile.

“You too,” April said.

Tom left the cafe, not saying a word to the rest of us, and Harrison sent us one last wave and followed. As soon as they were out of sight, April turned to me with wide eyes. “Oh my god,” she said. “Were they hot or what?”

“Oh come on,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I wouldn’t have even given them a second glance if blue-eyed boy wasn’t gaping at you the whole time.”

“Harrison,” she corrected with a blush. “And you’re just upset that Tom didn’t look at you.”

“I can honestly say I was not upset about that,” I said.

“Mhm,” April hummed. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise, I just rolled my eyes and got back to work.

Of course she was right. Both boys were hot, but I wasn’t interested. Harrison clearly had eyes for April, and Tom seemed like an asshole. Not my type. I hoped I’d never have to see them again.

Unfortunately, Harrison was a charmer.

He and Tom stopped by the cafe the next day as well, this time looking a bit more casual. Well, Harrison did anyway. He had swapped out his white t-shirt and black jacket for a plain red t-shirt, still with his dark jeans. Tom was still wearing black slacks and a button-up shirt, this time black instead of white. The black on black outfit would make me feel some type of way if I didn’t find his personality completely aggravating.

Tom, again, got a black coffee while Harrison opted for another Americano. April chatted with Harrison. He sat at the bar and April stood on the other side, her chin in her hand, completely infatuated with every word leaving his mouth. This left me with Tom. Tom also sat at the bar -a few seats down from Harrison to give him some privacy- but was on his phone, just as he was the day before. I didn’t know if I should strike up a conversation with him or just leave him be. The cafe was oddly empty, so I was bored out of my mind.

Now that I thought about it, it was kind of weird that it wasn’t busy. Just as the thought entered my mind, the bell above the door rang. I looked up, eager to welcome a customer, but as soon as they entered, their eyes grew wide and they turned around and left.

What the hell?

“That was weird,” I said aloud, thought I knew no one was listening.

“What was weird?” Tom asked, shocking me, but still not looking up from his phone.

“That guy just walked in and walked right out,” I said. “That doesn’t happen a lot.”

“Maybe he saw the two employees flirting with the customers and decided to turn around,” Tom said. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, feeling a surge of anger.

“First of all,” I said, “I’m not flirting with you. In fact, the mere idea that I would be flirting with you right now is laughable considering you haven’t even looked at me since you got here.” As if only to contradict my point, Tom locked his phone and looked up. “Second of all-” I looked at April and Harrison who were still wrapped up in their conversation and lowered my voice. “-your friend started this, so don’t act like this is all one-sided.”

“I’m not saying it’s one-sided,” Tom said. “I’m just saying you should never mix business and pleasure.”

“And I’m just saying you’re an asshole,” I muttered, turning to wipe the countertop just for something to do.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Tom said, the right side of his lip raising into a smirk.

“Oh, you’re gonna want to never call me that again,” I said, looking up at him behind squinted eyes.

“Then you’re probably never going to want to call me an asshole,” he said, still smirking. I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face.

“What would you prefer?” I asked, painting on a sarcastic smile of my own. “Conceited douchebag?”

“You think I’m conceited?” he asked with a chuckle. “Princess, you don’t even know me.”

“If you call me one more nickname, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” he taunted. “Please enlighten me, darling.”

“I swear to God fucking above-”

“Hey,” April said, causing Tom and I to both snap our heads in her direction. She and Harrison were both watching us. Harrison looked amused. “(Y/N), Harrison wants to know if we want to get dinner tonight.”

“Oh does he?” Tom asked, raising his eyebrow.

“He does,” Harrison said, shooting Tom a glare. “It’ll be fun. And you’re coming, too.”

“I don’t think I am,” Tom said.

Harrison let out an annoyed sigh. “Ladies, could you excuse us for a moment?” April nodded as Harrison stood up and nodded his head for Tom to follow him. Tom did, looking pissed as he did so. April looked at me with hard eyes.

“You’re going,” she said.

“I’m not,” I said. “And you can’t make me.”

“I think I can,” she said.

“And how do you-”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad about Chris.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Chris was an old family friend of my parents’, and I may or may not’ve hooked up with him a couple times.

What? He wasn’t even 40 and he was hot and had a daddy kink. It was only a couple times, and it was over a year ago. I prided myself in keeping it a secret from my parents. I was pretty sure they thought i was still a virgin, and I had no desire to let them think any different.

“You’re a bitch,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

“I learn from the best.”

At that exact moment, Harrison and Tom came back. Tom looked just as annoyed as he did before, but Harrison’s smile had grown wider. “Tonight, 7:00,” he said. He handed April a piece of paper that had an address on it. “You can meet us at that address.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re sending us to a crack house where we’re gonna be raped and murdered.”

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N),” April said, slapping my arm.

“It’s our house,” Harrison said with a slight chuckle. “But if you get there and decide it’s too sketchy, feel free to turn around and ditch us.” April laughed, tucking another piece of hair behind her ear, and Harrison smiled again. “Well, we’ll see you two later,” he said. April waved him off, I sent him a sarcastic smile, and he left- Tom following behind him, not sparing us another glance.

5:00 rolled around, and April and I were both getting ready. As soon as she got out of the shower, I got in. April knocked on the door and asked if she could brush her teeth. I let her, and she asked me what I was planning on wearing. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Harrison texted me that it was a nicer place,” she told me.

“He texted you?” I asked, peaking my head out from behind the curtain.

“Yeah,” she said.

“When did you get his number?”

“When he asked us to dinner. It only makes sense.”

I rolled my eyes and went back to my shower. “I still don’t care what I’m wearing,” I told her.

“Well I do,” she said. “You’re going to look cute.”

“I’m going to wear jeans.”

“You are not. You’re going to wear a dress and you’re going to like it.”

“Can’t make me.”

“Chris.”

I stuck my head out from behind the curtain again. The shampoo started to drip down the side of my face. “Have I said yet that I can’t stand you?” I said. “Because I can’t fucking stand you.” April smiled and spit the toothpaste into the sink, then left me alone in the bathroom.

When I finished my shower and went into my bedroom, I saw that April had laid out two outfits for me: one was a black dress, the other a black romper. “Gee!” I yelled to her, knowing she was in her room. “Glad you gave me options.”

“I love you!”

I decided on the romper. It was cute but also kind of sexy. Not that I wanted to look sexy for anyone in particular. Sometimes it was just nice to look sexy for myself. And that was exactly what I told April when she wolf whistled at me. She was wearing a red dress that I knew to be her I’m-gonna-get-some dress. “If you bring him over, don’t keep me up all night,” I told her.

“I won’t make any promises,” she said with a wink.

“Ugh,” I shuddered. “I hate thinking about you having sex.”

“No one’s asking you to think about it.”

We plugged the address Harrison gave us into my phone and headed off. It was about a twenty minute drive, and it looked like it was a nicer area of town. When we pulled up to the house, I saw that I was right. Because this wasn’t a house. This was a mansion. Once I pulled up to the gate (yes, gate), April and I both stared up at the house in awe. I pulled up to the intercom and was met with a voice that said, “Name?”

“Uh, I’m (Y/N),” I said. “And I’m with my sister April. We’re here to meet Tom and Harrison?” There was silence on the other end, but the gate opened and let us in. “I hate this,” I told her. “This is creepy.”

“Creepy?” April repeated. “Are you kidding? They’re rich! This is amazing!”

Harrison and Tom were waiting outside for us. I parked the car in their driveway and got out with April. She approached Harrison with a quick hug, and I trailed behind, awkwardly sending him a wave. Tom had his arms folded across his chest and looked like he wanted to be anywhere except with us. He and Harrison were both wearing the same outfit- black slacks and white button-up shirts. Tom’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, just like they had been the first day we met, but Harrison’s were down to his wrists. Tom’s hair was gelled smoothly, but Harrison’s was fluffier and less put-together. Those two facts alone were perfect examples of the stark differences in their personality.

“We’ll drive, yeah?” Harrison said.

“Okay!” April agreed. Harrison led us to the three-car garage and opened it. In it sat three black vehicles: a Rolls Royce, an Audi, and a Porsche. Mine and April’s jaws both dropped, and Harrison chuckled.

“Have a preference?” Harrison asked.

Before either of us could say anything, Tom said, “We’re taking the Audi.” I rolled my eyes at him, not really caring if he saw. He did. “Is that a problem, princess?” he asked, a smirk growing on his lips.

“Dude, I swear to god-”

“Dude?” Tom repeated.

“Would you prefer motherfucker?”

“(Y/N)!” April said, slapping my arm. Tom, however, just laughed. It was the first time I had heard the sound, and it threw me off guard. It looked like it did the same for April.

“Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl,” Tom said. This earned a roll of the eyes from both me and Harrison. April seemed stunned silent.

“Let’s go,” Harrison said.

The four of us got into the vehicle and headed off to the restaurant. Harrison told us the name of it, but I had never heard of it and neither had April. When we got there, it looked like a little hole-in-the-wall place. When we got inside though, it was like a whole different world. The lights were low, and the decor was fancy. Right away, I felt like I didn’t belong. We had to push through a crowd of people just to find our way to the booth Tom had reserved.

We sat down at the booth in a secluded corner of the restaurant. “Hello Mr. Holland, Mr. Osterfield,” the waiter said as he approached our table. “The usual to drink?”

“Please,” Harrison said at the same time that Tom nodded. “April, (Y/N)?” April and I both asked for waters. I was surprised with how quickly our drinks came back to us. In fact, everything happened quickly. I hadn’t noticed until we were already being handed our meals not even twenty minutes after ordering them. I swore that was a record for any restaurant I had ever been to. Tom and Harrison seemed unphased.

“What is it you guys do?” I asked them both. “Like, I don’t mean to be rude, but the big house? The fancy restaurant just for a couple of strangers? You’ve clearly got no problem throwing money around.”

“(Y/N)!” April said. She was getting annoyed with me, I could tell. At the same time, I didn’t care.

“Real estate,” Tom said.

I snorted. “Real estate? Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?” Tom shrugged and took a sip of his drink- whiskey on the rocks.

“I’m going to go touch up my lipstick,” April said, standing up from the table. “(Y/N), come with me?” It was a command, but she phrased it as a question. I rolled my eyes but followed her anyway. As soon as we were in the bathroom, she turned to me with a huff. “Will you quit being such a bitch?” she said.

“I’m not!” I said.

“Oh fuck off,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m just looking out for you. I don’t trust these guys.”

“I can look out for myself.”

“I know that, but-”

“But nothing! Quit being so mean to them. They’re nice guys.”

“Harrison’s a nice guy,” I said. “Tom-”

“I think he likes you,” she said with a shrug. As my jaw dropped, she turned to the mirror and actually started to reapply her lipstick.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I said.

She shrugged again. “You know how boys can be. They’re rude to the girls they like.”

“In elementary school,” I said. “Besides, what kind of boys will be boys bullshit is that?”

“I think you should just cut him some slack,” she said. “Give him a chance. He may be a little off-putting, but you’re not exactly little-miss-sweetheart either.”

“I’m not little-miss-sweetheart because assholes aren’t my type.”

“Give me a break.” She rolled her eyes. “You almost exclusively date assholes.”

“And I’m trying something new.”

“That’s what you said before you fucked Chris.”

“April, I swear to god-”

“I’m teasing!” she finally laughed, bumping her hip with mine. “Relax. God, you really need to get laid.”

The rest of the dinner wasn’t too painful. Tom mostly kept his mouth shut, which I was grateful for, but it felt like Harrison and April were in their own world. I didn’t want to pull out my phone because I hated when people did that, but I was getting bored. For lack of anything better to do, I started people watching. A lot of the customers were like Tom and Harrison: put together and rich looking. My eyes were currently trained on a booth across the restaurant. In it sat three men, all probably in their 30s. They were hunched over, talking to each other in hushed voices.

“It isn’t nice to stare,” Tom said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I huffed. “Maybe if you struck up a conversation with me, I wouldn’t have to find entertainment somewhere else.”

“Conversing is a two-way street, sweets,” he said.

“Sweets?” I repeated. “That’s what you’re going with now?”

“I’m just trying things out,” he said, hiding his smirk behind his whiskey. “You haven’t been satisfied with anything else.”

“Because my name is (Y/N),” I said, my fist clenching. “It’s not that hard.”

“I’m more of a nickname kind of guy myself,” Tom said with a shrug.

“Oh?” I said. He was baiting me, I knew, but I was bored so I took it. “And what’re your nicknames?”

“I don’t have nicknames,” he said. “I go by four names and four names alone.”

“And they are?”

“Tom, Mr. Holland, sir, and boss.”

“Boss?”

“Yes?” he said, teasing me again. I rolled my eyes and drank from my water.

“Alright,” I said. “So what are Harrison’s nicknames.”

“Harrison?” Tom said, glancing at his friend before looking at me again. “H, Haz-”

“So original,” I said. Tom shrugged.

“I can’t exactly call him peaches,” he said.

“God,” I groaned. “If you listen to anything I say to me, let it be that I never want you to call me peaches.”

Tom chuckled. “Alright, I’ll give you that one, petal.”

“Petal?”

“Cut me some slack.”

I wasn’t having fun with him. No way.

“So I can’t give you any nicknames?” I asked.

“No you cannot,” he said.

“And what’ll you do if I do?” I asked. I hesitated, then added, “Tommy?” Tom’s jaw clenched, and he downed the last of the whiskey in his glass. He looked me in the eyes -they were darker than they had been all night- and licked his lips.

“If you call me that again,” he said, “I’ll make sure you know why I go by sir.”

“Alright, I think we’re ready to go.”

April was smiling widely, clearly not aware of the conversation she just broke up between me and Tom. I, however, swallowed thickly, not having a clue how to move forward. It was as if Tom had already forgotten, because he stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. Harrison, April, and I stood up from the table as well and followed Tom out to the car.

The ride back to the mansion was silent, and I wasn’t surprised when Tom headed straight inside when we arrived. Harrison whispered something to April, and she giggled and nodded, then waved him off as he went inside. “He’s not coming back with us?” I asked, walking over to my car.

“I’m actually going to stay here with him,” she said, kicking her feet against the ground. I raised my eyebrows. “What?” she said. “It’s fine. It’s not like you’ve never had a one night stand at some other guy’s house.”

“Yeah, but those guys were normal,” I said.

“Listen,” April huffed, “you’ve done it, okay? You did your big sister job. Thank you. I appreciate it. Now please, just let me go. You know our SOS text.”

“Of course I know our SOS text.”

“Alright, then relax unless I send it.”

I rolled my eyes but hugged her anyway, placing a kiss to her cheek. “Be careful,” I told her. “Have fun. Be safe. I don’t want to be an aunt.”

“Jesus,” April laughed, giving me a little shove. “Go! Enjoy your wine and vibrator.”

“I will.”

I sat in the car until April was safely in the house. Safely. Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that being with Harrison and Tom and being safe were mutually exclusive?

----- ----- ----- -----

TAGLIST

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #smut #marvel #mob!tom #got your six #mob!tom holland

173 notes · View notes

goldenwilliamson · 4 years

Note

Okay so I'm obsessed with beatle!reader concept. So I was wondering if maybe you could write something to do with beatle!reader and george having heaps of chemistry and all the others think they should be together and all the media also questions them about being together then maybe George says 23A “I think I love you.”?? thanks love! Love your writing :)

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: everyone thinks beatle!reader and george should be together but they’re in a bit of denial

warnings: mentions of sex that happened in the past and allusion to it

word count: 1804

“Friends or Flame: George Harrison and Y/N Y/L/N,” John reads the recent headline of the magazine. The headline is paired with a photograph of you and George sat in a restaurant together last week enjoying a meal after a day in the studio.

‘Spotted in London restaurant: George and Y/n of The Beatles enjoying a romantic dinner together. The prevailing question is are they friends or lovers? They confidently tell the media that they are not romantically involved, but the chemistry seems strong. In the photograph the two are pictured leaving the restaurant together, George with his arm held strongly around Y/N before hopping into his famous mini cooper adorned with psychedelic paint.

What do you think of the couple? Let us know by writing in...’

The story reads and John says it out loud for the five of you to hear, each of you laughing at it.

“Why must they always insist that we are a couple?” You say.

“Well you two do act quite romantic sometimes,” Ringo says, and you and George make eye contact with one another, laughing again.

“How so?” You ask.

“Well for starters, you two out for dinner together, George with his arms held firmly around your waist. If I didn’t know any better, I’d probably agree with the bloody magazine,” Paul explains and you shake your head.

“Do they not understand that females and males can share platonic dinners together?” You say.

“You two just act like a couple but, it’s not their fault that you two have chemistry.” John says and Ringo and Paul nod.

“It’s just cause we’ve known each other for so long,” you say, looking to George to back you up, but he is looking away just drinking his tea in silence.

“It’s probably because you two fucked that time in Germany,” John says and George nearly spits out his tea. You push John on the shoulder, scoffing.

“Oh shush! That was when we were children and it was a mistake that we don’t speak of, John,” you tell him defensively. Yes, you and George had slept together when you were both 17, but you were kids with raging hormones sharing a bed together both drunk in Germany what did they expect to happen?

“Yes John, stop being jealous,” George says jokingly, speaking up finally.

“Oh I’m not, we were all in the room and basically experience the whole bloody thing with you,” John says, never letting the two of you live that moment down.

“Let’s just forget it ever happened alright, that didn’t mean anything and doesn’t effect this so called ‘chemistry’ you believe George and I have,” you tell them.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Paul says, nodding and the others laugh with him. Including George, the cheeky thing.

“I guarantee if you and Paul slept together you would have the same type of chemistry that you and George do. It can only come from sex and the media knows that. You’ve done it to yourself,” he says.

“Alright, let’s just drop this please. I don’t really care for this conversation or what the media wants to believe anymore,” you say, standing to head back into the studio. But it’s a lie, you did care, just as you cared for George. It’s not as though you’ve been pining after him since you were 17, sure you fancied him for a bit when you were kids but that went away. It’s recently come back in the last 6 months though and you don’t know how to make it go away.

You walk back down and work on some stuff in the studio by yourself while the other four hang around upstairs for at least another ten minutes. You take the time to have chat with Brian who too brings up the magazine.

“You two do look quite cute together,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, Brian always tries to play matchmaker for you, sending you on dates and that doesn’t stop when it comes to you and George.

“Oh not you too Brian,” you say to him.

“What? I think you would be lovely together. I think you know that too, and I think he does as well. I see the way you two look at each other, you can’t deny it,” he says, making you smile. But you shake your head and look to the floor.

“Wouldn’t it just ruin the dynamic but? I try to push the feelings away because I don’t want it to interfere with the band,” You tell him being honest now, as you know you trust him to keep it a secret.

“Darling, I don’t think it would ruin anything. The two of you already act like a couple and everyone here can see it, you two getting together certainly wouldn’t make a difference,” he says.

“Plus he is the most handsome out of the lot,” Brian adds with a wink which makes you laugh.

“You’re not wrong there,” you tell him, and soon the four boys come waltzing in ready to begin recording again.

“What were you and Brian talking about?” George says quietly, coming over to stand near you and plugging his guitar into the amp by your side. For a moment you’re worried he overheard you, but you can tell he’s just being curious.

“Oh was just talking about business stuff, it’s boring,” you lie, shrugging your shoulders.

“Right,” George nods, looking away to the other boys.

The session goes by quicker than normal tonight for some reason, maybe it’s because you have so much running around your mind. Most of the thoughts revolve around George. You think of about 50 different ways you could tell him how you feel, but not one of them seemed correct. You conclude that you should just leave it and let it fade away naturally until you no longer have feelings. Maybe if you wait for him to get another girlfriend, that seemed to help you get over him last time.

“Did you lot want to come over for some drinks?” George asks you all and even though you expect everyone to say no and that they just want to go home, all the boys agree as do you.

You all drive your cars in almost single file the whole way to George’s house in Esher. You arrive last of all of you seeing as you don’t speed like the rest of them. You try to mother them often about how unsafe speeding is, but they never listen.

The five of you sit spread around in George’s living room couches sipping on wine and beer for a couple of hours. You don’t often do this, but you all spent the time reminiscing on your childhoods together. Little stories and moments you guys could remember. It made all of you laugh your assess off thinking about the stupid things you all used to get up to.

Everyone begins to peel off slowly, Ringo heading home first, then Paul and John getting up to leave around the same time. You decide you should probably head home too, but you were dreading the drive back into London.

You and George walk out of his house, trailing a little behind Paul and John. You turn to look at him.

“It’s really annoying that you live in Esher because I really do not wanted to be driving into London right now. I’m so tired I may fall asleep at the wheel,” you tell him.

“Stay if you want,” he tells you and you raise an eyebrow.

“Would that be alright?” You question.

“Of course, don’t be silly. I like the company,” he tells you, nudging you softly with his arm.

“Alright,” you smile, “Thanks Geo.”

You two see John and Paul off.

“Aren’t you leaving as well,” Paul asks before hopping into his car.

“She’s gonna stay the night,” George explains for you and Paul raises his eyebrows.

“Once again, the two of you confuse us as to why you aren’t in a relationship already,” John says, sliding into his car and closing his door.

“Ah don’t mind John. Have a good night you two,” Paul says with a wink getting into his car as well and driving off with a wave, trailing behind John who you see starts quickly down the long road into George’s property.

The two of you make your way back into his house side by side and decide to go to bed. You head towards the spare bedroom while George walks around the house turning off the lights and lowering blinds before coming to the spare room too, resting on the door frame and watching you pull the sheets back on the bed.

“Why don’t you just sleep with me tonight? It’s cold and I like someone by my side,” he says and you obviously don’t decline.

“Sure,” you say and he smiles, turning to walk down the hall towards his room and you follow him.

“Here,” George says passing you a shirt, “For you to sleep in,” he says.

“Thanks,” you tell him before turning around to get changed. You weren’t afraid to change in front of George, he’d seen everything before.

He turns the light out and the two of you climb into bed together, George wraps his arms around you and pulls you into the warmth of his body, a feeling you love.

“You know the boys may be right about that stuff today,” he says into your ear, and although you can’t see him, you roll around to make the two of you face to face.

“About the magazine things?” You ask.

“About us, seeming like a couple you know,” he says and you nod for a moment.

“I mean I can see where they might get it from,” you laugh a little bit trying to ease the tension.

“Can I tell you something? Just to be completely honest here,” George asks.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,” you tell him, awaiting his response eagerly.

“Well I think I love you, y/n,” he says hesitantly and you feel a wave of joy roll over your entire body.

“Really?” You grin.

“Yeah,” he almost whispers.

“I love you too,” you mutter back to him.

“Really?” he says mimicking you as he laughs a little bit.

“Really,” you tell him.

“Well where do we go from now?” He asks, holding you a little bit tighter.

“I don’t know,” you laugh, “I feel like nothing has changed except we’ve spoken a few words to each other,” you tell him.

“I feel the same way,” he says laughing.

“I guess the boys were right then,” you tell him.

“I guess they were,” he agrees.

“Shall we have a do over of that night in Germany then? Without the other three in the room,” you offer in a whisper.

“I think that’s a marvellous idea.”

#george harrison x reader #george harrison imagine #georgeharrisonfic #beatle!reader #beatlesimagine

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shuahoonie · 4 years

Text

bed, booze, and him. [tom holland]

PAIRING: college!tom holland x reader

SUMMARY: life as a university student is already hard. sharing a flat with two college guys (one semi-decent, one all-around-annoying) just to get through paying the rent? funnily enough, even harder. it’s halloween plus midterms just ended so that means parties are never-ending and students are getting wasted. you should be out partying but you're stuck finishing a paper. how are you going to survive the night again?

WARNINGS: swearing as per usual! mentions of alcohol! slight mention of blood! friends living that domestic life! reader literally being in love with their bed and i cannot stress that enough! otp sharing a bed????? what????

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

SONG INSPO: drunk on halloween - wallows

A/N: hiya babes! another long-ass note here! thank you for all the kind words that i’ve received from ragnarok. i apologize as i’ve been slacking lately! i really tried to write whenever i had time but i’m mostly occupied with work & university. i’ll try to post something throughout the semester. [though no promises! the semester is going by way too fast and i’m trying to keep up lmao] in the meantime, enjoy this fluff that was based on a prompt that would’ve been poppin’ during 2013 lmao. also, can i just say how hard it is to figure out what type of songs tom listens to lmao.i based it off from this playlist i found on spotify! go give it a look 💛

gif credits: @tmholland

vanessa’s masterlist

“’Cause you make me feel like, I’ve been locked out of heaven.” A shirtless Tom sang loudly, looking for a top to go with his denim jeans. The basket of freshly done laundry was sitting on top of the couch when Tom started rummaging through it.

“Oi, oi.” You called out as you swatted Tom’s hands away from the laundry. “I just folded these.” You countered as you began refolding and fixing the mess that he managed to create within seconds.

“Just need a shirt,” Tom mumbled.

“Yeah, no shit.” You grunted. “The top pile is yours, dumbass.”

You didn’t even ask to do some of his laundries. He just saw you loading up yours and then started chucking some of his clothes inside of the washer. How you’ve managed to live with him, you have no clue.

“You’re welcome by the way,” You yelled sarcastically as you went back to your previous spot: the dining room table. Your notes were sprawled all over the table and sticky-notes placed on every possible page with your laptop beaming at you.

“Thank you, darling.” He grinned, showing off that pretty smile that always made everyone swoon. “Y/N, can you tell me why are you writing a paper on a Halloween night when you could be partying and drinking the night away?”

Tom was now sitting across you with his chin placed firmly on the palm of his hand, looking at your notes before turning his attention back to you.

“Look, Holland,” You sighed “not everyone is having the time of their lives after the mid-term season is over. Some of us have to catch up with papers because life wasn’t supposed to be fair.”

Tom held up his hands in surrender, “Alright darling, calm down.” He chuckled before standing up to pound on Harrison’s door again. “Mate, c’mon! You need to fucking hurry up or I’m leaving.”

You just rolled your eyes at the sound of Tom’s annoying set of knocks. “Thomas Holland, I swear to god...” You groaned.

“Y/N, darling, you know I love you but why can’t you just write in your room?” He asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him before focusing back on your notes. “I could but I don’t want to pass out on my bed with a sloppy, unfinished paper watching me sleep.” You reasoned, not looking up at him as you were busy scrawling additional information on your notes.

Tom hummed, obviously resting the argument as you’ve made your point.

You really try your hardest and make an effort not to make your room a space that you associated your works with. You always studied either in the living room or at the library. Never in your room.

You made sure that when you moved into the flat, you’d make an effort and would try to make your room as cosy as possible. You didn’t make a huge fuss regarding what you wanted. You got a skeleton-frame bookshelf, a study table, a nightstand, and a glorious bed. You had fairy lights strung up around your room as you kept the walls plain and white.

You also had to accept that your bed would put a serious dent in your budget. You bought tons of pillows that take up at least half of your bed and a duvet guaranteed to keep you warm.

You hardly meet the required amount of sleep a person needs but when you do get some zzz’s, the bed does the job and it does it well.

Your room was sacred, and both Tom and Harrison knew that.

Harrison had only been inside your room once and it was an accident. It’s not that you forbade him, it was really just a matter of respecting each other’s privacies.

Tom had been inside your room twice and none of those were accidents.

One was when he and Harrison were playing hide and seek. You were quietly watching Netflix inside your room when Tom went in to hide since he claimed that Harrison would never suspect him being inside it. He promised to do the dishes for two days if you let him hide and you did. You were satisfied with his negotiation.

The other was when he knocked on your door one night.

“Hey, do you have a bandaid?” Tom asked you as soon as you opened the door.

You raised an eyebrow at him.”Why?”

He then showed his bleeding finger which caused you to gasp. “Tom, what the hell?!”

You opened the door wider for him to come in and you quickly ran to your nightstand to grab the first-aid kit from the drawer.

“Huh,” Tom hummed and sat at the edge of your bed while you sat on the floor, gently grabbed his hand to look at his wound. “Your room is oddly inviting.” He commented.

You looked at him oddly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hm?” You were still staring at Tom, waiting to elaborate on what he said. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom quickly apologized as he just realized what he just said.

“Please, Tom, elaborate before it becomes awkward in the next sixty seconds.” You said almost too pleadingly as you started to clean his wound.

Tom chuckled. “What I meant was your room is dangerously comfortable.” He said as he plopped himself down causing you to hiss at him.

“Hold still, you dickhead.”

“Seriously darling, if this was my bed, I’d never get up,” Tom mumbles happily as he tried to make himself comfortable, lying in your bed.

“What were you doing that involved you and a bleeding finger anyway?” You asked.

“I was trying to cook dinner.” He answers almost shyly.

You were quiet for a moment, causing Tom to tilt his head over in your direction and look at you. You had your brow raised and disbelief was painted all over your face.

You, Harrison, and Tom at least try to do some cooking in the means of saving money. It was a pretty smart way to get through their university life without always being on the brink of getting broke. You and Harrison usually took turns in making dinner while Tom was always in charge of breakfast, seeing that he was always the first one to wake up early.

This set up was also made because Harrison claims that he doesn’t trust Tom with a knife.

“I was trying to prove to Harrison that I can make pasta without getting myself wounded in some type of way!” Tom said defensively.

Harrison was right.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and finished up cleaning his wound. You rummaged through your kit, looking for a bandaid when you found a certain one that your friend gave you as a ‘gift’ from their trip to Japan. “There, all done.” You said after wrapping his finger with bandaid.

“Thanks, Y/N. Sorry to-” Tom stopped himself when he raised his hand to look at his newly-treated wound and saw the pink, Hello Kitty bandaid that was staring back at him.

You pulled a tight smile. “Make sure you change your bandaids every day! I have more if you need them.” You said innocently at him.

“Oh, darling,” He stood up to cup your face “I’ll make sure to knock on your door every day so you don’t worry too much.” He replied as he gently removes his hand from the side of your face.

You dropped your smile and pushed Tom towards the door. “Bye, Tom.”

Now that you’ve thought about it, this whole “it’s Halloween! take a break at least!” thing only makes you want to leave all of your work behind and just crawl up to bed.

Harrison finally stepped out of his room, looking like he’s finally ready to intoxicate himself with alcohol and release himself from the stress this semester has caused him.

“Fucking finally, mate” Tom let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as Harrison rolled his eyes at his impatient friend. “C’mon then, let’s go!”

“Can you calm down, mate?!” Harrison said as he made his way towards the kitchen. “You don’t even have a shirt on!”

Jesus Christ, why are they always like this? You thought to yourself as you watched the two bicker in front of you.

It’s always like this. The two would always have a tiny bicker every time they have to do something together. You always reasoned why on earth would they even have to do it together when they always end up bickering. They claimed that it’s all for fun and adds dynamic to their friendship.

Dynamic my ass. Easy for them to say, they’re not the ones who have to endure two annoying dumbasses.

“Could you be any louder?” You said in annoyance as you looked up from your laptop. You were about to start writing your paper, that’s due tomorrow mind you, and all you have is a sloppy mess.

For crying out loud, who even gives out papers and assigns the due date the day after Halloween when they know students are drinking themselves shitless that night? Oh, that’s right, university professors do.

And these two? Not helping. At all.

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to add, darling?” Tom asked teasingly. Not without with a huge smirk plastered on his face.

God, he’s ten times more annoying when he’s fueled by his impatientness and thirst for alcohol.

“For fuck's sake” You grunted, bringing both your hands and ran them up in your face, obviously irritated. You’ve been roommates with Tom and Harrison for almost three years and until now, Tom can still find a new way to irk you.

Tom chuckled at the sight of you, dreading to pull your hair out due to the overflowing irritation.

You stood up from the table and grabbed a black shirt from Tom’s pile of fresh laundry, then chucked it at him. “There, put that on and leave.”

“Hm,” Tom looked at the black shirt that you shoved “Sure this is okay?”

“Yes, yes, now go. I can’t work with you two here.” You waved dismissively at them. “Especially you, Holland.” You pointed out as you looked at Tom pointedly.

“Is it because you still have a crush on me, darling?” He teased, causing Harrison to chuckle.

You narrowed your eyes at Harrison, who just grinned at your frustration. “That was a long time ago, ‘ya dickhead!” You groaned, slightly embarrassed that he still remembered that time. Curse the day you and a couple of friends went out for a drink.

You had one too many drinks when Liz, a friend from your literature class, asked you a question. “Okay, I know you said that you’re friends-”

“Oh, no,” You groaned. “I know where this is going.”

“Y/N!”

“Okay, fine!” You raised your hands in defeat. “Shoot.” Fuck it, right?!

“Bed, wed, behead Luke, Josh, and Tom,” Liz stated with a teasing smile on her face.

“Oh, the choices are horrible!” You exclaimed with an awful amount of concern for such a flimsy game. “Awfully considerate of you to use this version instead of fuck, marry, kill, by the way.” You added as you took another sip from your margarita.

“Anyway, I’d kill Luke. After lashing out because I wasn’t comfortable giving out my number? Kill Luke, that easy.” You explained which earned a handful of approving nods.

“I guess I’d have to fuck Josh,” You answered as you were still weighing the pros and cons of your answers as if they really matter. “I mean I’d only have to do it once anyway.”

It was when you finished your drink when you realized what was left out of the options. “Wait,” You yelled quite obnoxiously. “I don’t want to marry Tom!”

“Okay, but you have to admit that Tom’s cute.” Liz pointed out.

“I mean,” You were flustered for a moment, “Y-yeah. Tom’ is good-looking, I’d be lying if I said otherwise but that doesn’t mean I’d like to marry him!”

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, love,” Zoë commented with an amused look on her face.

“Is that so, Y/N?” A curious voice suddenly popped up from behind you and saw Harrison with a smirk on his face.

Your friends said their quick hello’s and Haz politely returned them as well as asking how are they doing.

“God, can I have one night without seeing both of my roommates?” You groaned and buried your face in the palm of your hands.

“Well, I can grant you half of that wish,” Harrison commented before he asked the bartender for another pint of beer. “Tom’s stuck in the library, cramming for his Physics exam.”

“I told him to start his revisions early. That exam is no joke.”

“Yeah, and the bloody idiot didn’t listen,” Harrison grumbled. “But speaking of the idiot, you were saying you didn’t want to marry Tom? I didn’t even know he proposed.” He teased. “I didn’t even know you had a crush on him!”

“I will kill you in your sleep, Harrison.”

“Hey, I was just asking why you didn’t want to marry Tom.” He defended himself with a grin, obviously enjoying how flustered you were.

“What are you even doing here, Haz?” You asked, plain exasperated.

“Well, Y/N, I need to have a social life too.” Haz answered.

“Can you have a social life somewhere else then?”

“Nah,” He dismissed you and out of sheer reflex, you smacked the back of his head. “Oi!” He yelped in pain.

You and Harrison were pretty close and you two established that early when you three started living together. You two definitely bickered like siblings and everyone knew that. Tom never felt out of place with you and Harrison as you three collectively found ways to annoy one another.

“It’s okay, YN,” Zoë tried to console you for a moment before adding, “Harrison can stay.”

“You’re just saying that because you have a crush on him,” You grumbled before taking a sip of your drink.

You suddenly felt a stinging pain from your arm and saw Zoë glaring at you, cheeks blushing. “Oi, what is wrong with you?” You cried while rubbing your arm, trying to disperse the pain.

“I don’t see why you’re so deeply affected with the idea of marrying Tom,” Liz commented as she turned to you. “The two of you already fight like a married couple anyway.”

“I still would’ve loved to hear it from you, darling,” Tom commented as Harrison was fighting off a laugh behind him.

“Keep dreaming, Holland.” was all you said before turning back your attention to your laptop.

“We’re heading out for Jackson’s party, ‘mkay?” Tom called out, stuffing his phone and wallet in his back pockets.

“Mhm… sure… as if I care…” You mumbled as you started typing your essay, with your draft as reference. You were definitely annoyed at how you were spending your free time.

“I’m just saying!” Tom remarked in his defense “I just thought that maybe you’d wait up so…”

You tore your attention from your paper and looked into Tom’s eyes and said bluntly, “I don’t know how you do it, but you never fail to surprise me with that ego of yours.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling. Don’t stay up too late.” He winked then left.

"We’ll see you later, Y/N. Lock the doors!” Harrison said before waving you goodbye.

You sat up from your bed, sneering at the loud banging noise coming from outside of your door. You blindly looked for your phone and as you found it, you checked the time and it says 3:21 AM.

“For fuck's sake," You grunted as you stood up and marched your way to the living room. You’ve only been asleep for less than two hours and you were ready to kill whoever’s outside your door.

As you opened your door, you saw a very drunk Tom who looked like an absolute mess and will probably regret everything the next time wakes up. You leaned into your doorframe, as you watched Tom successfully maneuvered his way around the living room.

“Tom, it’s past 3 AM.” You groaned in exhaustion as you watched Tom, clearly drunk out of his mind, trying to keep his balance.

“Y/N, baby,” Tom greeted you, “‘ve missed you.” His speech was beginning to slur as he engulfed you in a hug.

“Holland, you reek of alcohol.” You scrunched your nose in disgust and wriggled your way out of his hug. “Come, I’ll take you to your room.”

“Nooo,” He drawled out as he dragged his footsteps inside your room, lazily walking to your bed.

“Tom, you can’t sleep here.” You argued as he still didn’t budge and just flopped on the top of your bed.

“Why not?” He murmured, clearly out of it.

“Because that’s my bed and you have your own, dumbass.” You replied as you threw your head back, frustrated. At this point, you knew it was hopeless. This was the most you’ll be getting out of him.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“What?”

“I really, really like your bed,” Tom confessed which only made you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I figured.” You commented as you began pulling out the sleeping bag stashed in the back of your closet. You often wondered why you bought this as you were never the type who camps for pure pleasure.

I guess I finally have the reason to use this now, you thought to yourself. You grabbed a couple of pillows and the plush blanket you’ve always adored then began setting them up on the floor where you will be sleeping.

You stepped outside for a minute to grab a glassful of water and some aspirin for Tom before placing them on top of your nightstand. You also stopped inside Tom’s room for a quick minute to grab some clothes for him to change in.

You didn’t know why you were doing all of it but there you were, standing in front of Tom’s closet, looking for a shirt and some sweatpants that he could change in.

After you’ve managed to grab Tom’s clothes, you popped back into your room only to find Tom completely sprawled on top of your bed. You quietly approached him and gently dabbed the damp towel (that you also prepared before coming back to your room) all over his face.

Brushing Tom’s hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him in complete awe. Until now you were still asking yourself why you’re going the extra mile for him.

Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you’re trying to be a good friend and should be looking after him.

Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you’re trying to be a better person and through this, you wouldn’t feel a sense of guilt if you let Tom pass out in the living room.

Or maybe those pesky little feelings that you tried to suppress were emerging once again. You did have a little crush on Tom but there was no way in hell that you’d ever admit that nor does anyone have to know.

Tom wasn’t bad. Yeah, maybe he does annoy you out of sheer pleasure but the guy wasn’t the absolute worst.

Tom always gets you coffee when he knows he went over the line and pissed you off.

He’d always leave little notes beside them too, saying “sorry if I was being an ass last night :(” or maybe something like “coffee in exchange for letting you sleep in a bad mood”.

You always said they were cheesy but you secretly adored them. You always kept the notes too, you were a sucker for those sentiments.

You pushed your thoughts in the back of your mind and gently tapped Tom’s shoulder, asking him to wake up.

He eventually obliged, half-asleep as he sat up from your bed.

“You need to change into more comfortable clothes, Tom.”

“M-don’t want to,” He murmured as he rested his head on the headboard.

“You are literally covered in sweat, dumbass.” You argued, “Also, I don’t want my sheets to smell like sweat and alcohol.”

Tom sighed as he took off his shirt and changed into clean ones. He was about to take off his pants when he caught you watching at him.

You quickly turned your attention away from him, your cheeks definitely burning from embarrassment. You didn’t even know why you were watching him in the first place.

You always see Tom shirtless so that wasn’t a huge deal, and there are a couple of instances where you saw Tom walking around the flat with just his boxers on.

Why you were suddenly embarrassed with an almost half-naked Tom, especially when this was not a foreign sight for you, only confused you.

Maybe, I’m the one who's drunk.

"Are you decent?” You asked Tom, afraid to turn around as the embarrassment was still running through your veins.

You heard a soft chuckle from Tom and he murmured “yeah” in response.

Tom laid back and took the spot at the edge of your bed as you took the sleeping bag that you prepared a little while ago.

You quickly peeped at your phone to check the time and it was almost 4 o’clock in the morning. You were wide awake now.

“Hey, Y/N?” Tom suddenly called out.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response.

“Did you know that flamingos bend their legs at their ankles and not at their knees?”

“I-uh,” You were lost for words, either at this fact or due to the fact that Tom even knows this. “What?”

“Well technically, the joints that we see on their legs are their ankles while their knees are much closer to their body and are hidden under their feathers.”

“How do you even know this?”

“I usually do a deep-dive on the web when I can’t sleep.”

“Oddly enough, that makes sense.” You confessed, chuckling.

There was a small period of silence and you suddenly wondered where Harrison was.

“Hey, do you know what happened to Harrison?” You asked out loud.

“No,” He murmured. “Why are you suddenly looking for him?”

“Well you two left together and only one of you made it home, so I think I get worried for that idiot right?”

“He probably crashed at Jackson’s or he’s hooking up with someone.” Tom answered. “I told him I was heading home and he said he wanted to stay so that’s my best guess.”

You picked up your phone and tried calling Harrison but he wasn’t picking up.

You furrowed your eyebrows and sent a text to Haz saying, “text me if you’re alive. need to know if we need to clear out your room. jk. pls text back.” followed by a “ also pls don’t do something remotely embarrassing. text back, haz. i mean it.”

The room fell into silence once again and it made you a bit uncomfortable.

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I play some music while sleeping?”

“Go ahead, it’s your room.” He answered.

You scoffed, “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

“Anytime, babe.”

You connected your phone to the bluetooth speakers and put your playlist on shuffle. Soon enough Cigarettes After Sex’s song “K.”, started playing softly in the background.

You shuffled across your ‘bed’, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position.

“This is going to kill my back when I wake up.” You mumbled to yourself.

“Sleep with me then,” You heard Tom suggest.

“I beg your pardon?!” You were appalled.

“Wha- Oh! Not like that, babe.” He quickly took it all back, trying to recover from another layer of embarrassment he just cost the two of you. “I mean yeah, sure, why not.” He joked.

“Ha ha, very funny Holland.” You said sarcastically.

“What I meant was lay down next to me. Here. In the space next to me.” He cleared out.

“I think I’ll be fine here.” You answered. “I mean what’s a day of pain right?”

“Y/N, I think we’re two grown adults. We’re just sleeping together.” Tom tried to explain which only made you wince even more.

“Tom, you really have to clarify things well.”

“We’re two grown adults, sleeping in one bed. Nothing malicious there.” He did his best to do it properly. “Besides, are you really passing up the opportunity to sleep on your outrageously comfortable bed?”

You sat up straight and shot daggers at him. “Screw you, Holland. You should be sleeping on your own bed.”

He closed his eyes and said, “’m too tired to move.”

You sighed, grabbing a few pillows and your blanket. You made your way to the empty spot of the bed, right beside Tom. “Don’t try anything, Holland.” You warned him and laid right next to him.

With his eyes still closed, he chuckled and said, “I promise, darling.”

“I’m serious, Tom. If you try something, I swear I will curse you and the next three generations of your family to fail.”

“I’ll marry you then.” retorted Tom.

Flushed from what Tom just said, you grabbed your phone to divert your attention to something else. It was then when you noticed a text message from Harrison saying, “i’m fine. crashed at jack’s lol. it’s not me you should be worried about, it’s tom. the blabbering drunk might finally confess he likes you haha.”

You quickly turned off your phone as it only left you even more flustered. Right then, you felt Tom tug your hand only to interlace his fingers with yours.

You turned to face him but he had his eyes closed. You decided to just close your eyes and force yourself to sleep.

You were slowly falling into a deep slumber when you heard soft mumbles from Tom. “Goodnight, Y/N. Going to sleep with my heart racing is harder than I thought. The things you do to me, darling, you’ll never know.”

hiya again babes, please leave some feedback!!!! whether you think it’s shit or just plain horrible! or maybe you liked it for some reason?? lmao any feedback is nice.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and reader #tom holland and you #tom holland x you #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

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wakingbetweenworlds · 4 years

Text

Reylo/Star Wars Tag

So, since I’m diving head first into the community after 5 years, I’ve been searching for ways to meet more of you. Anyway, I found this adorable Tag from @supremeprince-bensolo and thought I’d join in!

Rules: Answer the 25 questions and tag some people you think might like to play.

Tagging: I don’t really know anyone to tag, but I’m looking forward to getting to know some of you!

1. When did you start shipping Reylo?

I started shipping Reylo as more of an “oh this could be an interesting dynamic” type thing after watching The Force Awakens in 2015. The chemistry between Adam and Daisy, even as strangers/enemies, was compelling. It wasn’t until I watched The Last Jedi that I thought “yeah, this is totally a thing and I’m not the only crazy person that loves it”. The similarities between the two characters was fascinating.

2. Favorite Reylo moment?

Out of all 3 movies, my favorite Reylo moment is the first ‘force-bond’ scene while Rey is on Ahch-To. She’s still filled with so much anger and hatred for him, but Kylo is more interested in figuring out what is going on between them. To me, it illustrates the deeper motivations of the characters and their evolving relationship.

3. Three words to describe Reylo?

Conflict | Passion | Redemption

4. Favorite thing about Reylo?

My favorite thing about Reylo is, despite the difference in their upbringing, they have suffered in the same way. Both have been alienated from their families and forced into a role that they didn’t necessarily choose. Both are incredibly lonely and feel as though they are misunderstood by everyone close to them.

5. Favorite character?

Darth Vader. As an OT kid, I really don’t think another answer to this question exists. Vader has to be one of the most epic villains ever created. #LongLiveDarthDaddy

6. Favorite droid?

K2-SO. This may be a stretch, but come on! I just love the attitude!! Rogue One is a fantastic addition to Star Wars and Alan Tudyk is absolutely AMAZING!

7. Favorite planet?

This is tough. I’ll cheat and say it's a tie between Mustafar and Kashyyyk. Mustafar because of Vader. It would be a cool place to visit and explore. Kashyyyk because of the Wookiees. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live with Wookiees on a beautiful jungle planet?

8. Favorite spaceship?

Again, another tie. Of course, the Millenium Falcon is the most iconic ship in all of Star Wars. I seriously cried when I got to see it on my first trip to Galaxy’s Edge! Other than the Falcon, the one ship I would love to fly is the TIE Interceptor. That thing is just badass!

9. Favorite alien species?

JAWAS!!! Oh. My. God. I’ve been obsessed with Jawas since I was a kid! I used to parade around the house in a brown blanket shouting “UTINNI!” at literally everything! I just love those sneaky little ass holes!

10. Favorite actor/actress?

Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher. I know. I know. It’s the OT kid, again. Besides Star Wars, the only other movies I would watch as a kid were the Indiana Jones movies. I was 6 before I realized that not all movies had Harrison Ford in them. And Carrie? Forget it. She was the first female role model I had in movies. If Princess Leia could do it, so could I.

11. How did you get into Star Wars?

I can honestly say I can’t remember the first time I watched a Star Wars movie. I can remember watching Empire almost weekly as a kid. My dad had the OT on VHS and I would watch them whenever I had a chance.

12. Most memorable Star Wars moment?

Ugh. This one is hard! There are so many moments from each film and trilogy that stand out. I think I’m going to have to go with a Vader moment though. The scene in Rogue One where Vader hacks through everyone on the Rebellion ship. Shit. That has got to be one of the coolest, most well choreographed scenes. He’s the baddie to end all baddies!

13. Anakin Skywalker or Darth Vader?

Don’t get me wrong, I love Anakin. I love that the Prequels explain his backstory so well. I love that we get to see the conflict build in him and that his choices felt right at the time. And, I love how Haden portrays the character. BUT, Darth Vader is iconic. He’s truly the villain, no matter what his backstory says.

14. Ben Solo or Kylo Ren?

Ben Solo! So, here’s the thing. I don’t really see Kylo Ren as a separate entity. Kylo feels like a costume that Ben wears to protect himself. He becomes what he has to. Not to spoil anything from The Rise of Kylo Ren, but Ben is a victim of abuse. There’s no doubt about it. It’s canon. I don’t think he ever truly falls the way Anakin does. It feels like he finds a role he thinks he can play, so he puts on a costume and acts how he thinks he should.

15. OT, PT or ST?

OT!!! While I love all three trilogies, the Original will always have a special place in my heart. If it weren’t for those, I don’t know if I would love Star Wars as much as I do.

16. TLJ or ESB?

EMPIRE STRIKES BACK!! Are you kidding? There’s no contest. Yes, TLJ is amazing, but Empire is quintessential Star Wars. It has action, adventure, fantasy, violence, and romance that all of the other films try to emulate.

17. ROTS or ANH?

BIG OOF! I’m probably in the minority here, but Revenge of the Sith. I love the fall of Anakin Skywalker.

18. ROTJ or TFA?

Return of the Jedi. TFA is great and I love the new characters that it introduces, but ROTJ is amazing. Vader’s death is so poetic.

19. TPM or TROS?

I never thought I would find a Star Wars movie that I hate more than The Phantom Menace, but TROS did the damn thing. Like shit! What a HORRIBLE way to end a franchise that I’ve loved my entire life. Seriously, TROS is the Jar Jar Binks of the Star Wars universe.

20. Rogue One or Solo?

Don’t get me wrong! I LOVED Solo. Seriously, Donald Glover as young Lando is absolutely fantastic casting and seeing Han and Chewie’s backstory is perfect. BUT!! Rogue One’s storyline is much more compelling. It also has my favorite Vader scene….. sooooooo.

21. Favorite quote?

There are soooooo many fantastic quotes in Star Wars, but I’m going to have to go with one that always made me giggle. Master Yoda is the original savage.

“When 900 years old you reach, look as good you will not.”

22. Favourite meme?

I am literally obsessed with this little shit. I mean… Come on!!

23. Favourite gif?

Does this count?

24. If you could change one thing about the Skywalker Saga what would it be?

For the Rise of Skywalker to actually have a Skywalker rise? Is that really too much to ask? For there to be at least one Skywalker left at the end of the Skywalker Saga. No, still too much? Maybe, not have the nemesis of the Skywalker line survive though his granddaughter? Maybe have a female character that is strong enough on her own? One who doesn’t need some powerful dude ancestor to justify her strength. Ok. I’ll stop now.

25. Top 3 Star Wars movies?

EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

Rogue One

The Last Jedi

#reylo #reylo fandom #tag game #tagged #star wars tag game

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cali-holland · 5 years

Text

Oops- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Prompt: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Prompt: You’re in love with Harrison, but you’ve never worked up the courage to tell him. One night, you let yourself get a little too loose at a party and regret it- for the most part.

Word Count: 1500

Based On: Girl Crush by Little Big Town

Warning: drinking

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

You didn’t like to think of yourself as a jealous person. You rarely get so jealous that you can no longer act; you’re much more composed than that. Tonight was an exception to your rule.

When Harrison asked you to come to this party with him, you had hoped it meant the two of you together- but really it meant the two of you with several other people. It seemed like any time in which you and Harrison could hang out one-on-one, he would shift it and include more people. You were more than frustrated by it, yet you still found yourself falling hard for the blue eyed Brit.

“Here you go.” Tom said, walking up to you in the party and handing you a red cup.

“Thank you.” You replied, offering him a soft smile. He stood beside you as you two watched the party go on from the wall. Despite his outer image, Tom really did not like Friday nights spent at house parties like this. Your eyes drifted to Harrison who was chatting with a leggy blonde. You recognized her immediately; she was always at these things and she was always attached to Harrison. She flipped her long blonde hair back and leaned in to whisper in his ear. You kept your stare on her as she placed a perfectly manicured hair on his exposed chest from the loose button-up.

“Y/N, you good?” Tom pulled you back to your senses, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m fine.” You nodded.

“Your cup sure doesn’t look it.” He stated. You looked down at the object in your hand, realizing you had been subconsciously crushing it while watching Harrison interact with the girl.

“Oops.” You said before chugging it down immediately. Tom looked at you bewildered- sure, he’d seen you go shot for shot before, but he’d never witnessed you drinking awful beer that quickly without it being in a game. You started to walk away, “I’m grabbing myself another drink.”

Tom glanced over at Harrison to see his friend now hanging all over the drunk blonde. He sighed before following you to the kitchen. He had only been a moment or so beside you, but he suddenly lost track of where you went. He knew you’d most likely get wasted tonight and he needed to make sure you didn’t do anything you’d regret.

“Drink up, Y/N.” He heard a guy slur out. Tom followed the shout to the other room where you had found a bunch of people playing a game of rage cage.

“Y/N,” Tom said, stepping by your side.

“I am fine.” You replied in a half slur, going back to playing the game- a game in which both you and Tom knew you sucked at. By the end of it, you’d for sure be gone. After another couple of drinks, you started to stumble and Tom made sure to grab you before you could continue further.

“Time to go.” He stated. With his arms around you, he led you through a crowd of people towards the door. You two passed by Harrison and, in your intoxicated state, you called out for him.

“Harrison! It’s Harrison!” You giggled. Your voice pulled him away from the girl he was with. Seeing your current status with Tom, he immediately dropped the girl and went to help. He looked at Tom questioningly.

“Rage cage.” Tom replied, explaining it all.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Harrison said, wrapping an arm around you as well.

“Aw, this is the only time you’d want to take me home.” You let out a small huff as they practically carried you out of the door.

“Y/N, you’re so smashed right now.” He laughed.

“And you’re so cute.” You whined. Tom started to awkwardly laugh as he helped Harrison put you in the car. Having the least amount of drinks- aka none because he was babysitting you, Tom was the designated driver. Harrison slid into the backseat beside you, doing his best to keep you awake.

“Thank you, you’re pretty cute too.” Harrison replied. He was tipsy, not fully having control of words, but he was there enough to know exactly how to take care of you.

“No, like cute cute.” You insisted, lightly placing a hand on his cheek and rubbing your thumb against his defined cheekbone. He smiled into your touch. You dropped your hand and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“You need to stay awake. We’re almost back to your place.” He said, softly shaking his shoulder to prevent you from falling asleep.

“I’m tired now though.” You sighed.

“Just a few more minutes.”

The rest of the car ride was silent and when Tom parked at your apartment complex, you were the first to speak up.

“Harrison, can you stay with me tonight?”

“Sure, we just need to get you inside first.” He said, helping you out of the car.

“Do you have her?” Tom asked and Harrison nodded. Luckily, you lived on the first floor and your keys were easily accessible in your purse. Harrison said goodbye to Tom as he drove off. You attempted to walk the few feet from Harrison to your apartment door, but fell as you did so.

“You’re absolutely the clumsiest drunk.” Harrison laughed, picking you up in his arms with ease.

“You smell good.” You stated as he set you down to open your door.

“Thank you.”

“What does she smell like? The blonde?” You asked as he led you inside to your room.

“I don’t know. I could really only smell the beer.” He joked, going straight for your pajama drawer to get you something to change into.

“I wish I could be her. Maybe you’d like me more that way.” You said, laying down in your bed.

“Y/N, you need to change.” Harrison laughed as you shrugged at him from under the blankets.

“I’m fine.” You managed to squeak out. He went to reach for your spare blanket to make himself a bed on the floor, but you stopped him, “Sleep up here silly. There’s plenty of room.”

“Are you sure sober Y/N wants that?” He asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Harrison couldn’t hide it, he really liked as much more than a friend- he just never got the courage to change the dynamic and make his move, so he allowed the blonde to be his distraction. It wasn’t until now that it went through his mind that you may feel the same way.

“Yes, she wants that and I want that.” You said. He slid his way under your blankets and next to you in your bed. You turned towards him and looked at him with your glossy eyes, “I love you, Harrison.”

“Y/N,” He went to respond, but your eyes slid shut as you drifted off. He sighed, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t remember any of tonight’s events. He quietly made his way out of your bed and laid down on the floor with the single blanket. You may have been very drunk and open, but he was not crossing that line with you.

~~~

You grumbled to yourself as you woke up the next morning, feeling nauseous from the heavy hangover setting in. You grimaced, realizing you fell asleep in last night’s outfit. Rubbing your eyes, you went to step out of bed, but caught yourself when you heard a soft snore coming from the ground. You peered over the edge of your bed to see none other than Harrison sleeping at the foot of your bed.

“Harrison!” You called out, waking him up with a start.

“What time is it?” He mumbled sleepily.

“Why are you here?” You asked.

“I brought you back last night and you wanted me to stay.” He explained, sitting up and taking off the small blanket.

“You could’ve at least stayed on my couch.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to vomit in your sleep.” Harrison teased, making you groan.

“How bad was I last night?”

“Well, you went off and decided to play rage cage so you got wasted.” He paused, looking away from you and nervously playing with his hands, “You told me you loved me.”

“Harrison, I’m so sorry” You started to speak, regretting your mistakes from the previous night.

“I love you too.” Harrison’s blue eyes found you once more. He looked up at you, hopeful that your sober mind truly thought the same as your drunk mind. As you processed his words, a small smile came across your face.

“I’d kiss you right now if my breath didn’t smell so bad.” You joked as he stood up.

“Here’s to bad breath then.” He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. Despite the awful tastes of old beer and morning breath, it was by far the best kiss you’d had.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield x you #tom holland

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wazzupmrstark · 5 years

Text

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Eleven || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: fucking finally lol hope y’all are ready

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst :)

What I listened to while writing: the Bad Times at the El Royale soundtrack

Word Count: 3.1k

“Speak of the devil,” Haz said as Tom jogged over to the two of you and you couldn’t help the ‘literally’ that slipped out of your mouth automatically. Force of habit.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked you, still breathing heavily from the scene they’d just been shooting.

“Like you give a shit,” Haz scoffed and Tom shot him a look.

“What’s your problem, mate?” Harrison shrugged and pursed his lips, looking off at the water. “Harrison?”

“You don’t actually care one way or the other, mate, don’t pretend like you do. It’s tacky.”

You and Tom shot Harrison identical looks of shock. Sure, everyone knew you and Tom had a bit of a Road Runner/Wile E Coyote dynamic, and no one knew it better than Harrison, but you didn’t think you’d ever heard him snap at Tom before. Especially not in your defense.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tom asked, having moved past shock and on to annoyance.

“God, you’ve always been kind of an asshole to y/n, and I never said anything, but you’re not even going to acknowledge how shitty it was of you to ditch her in her hotel room alone after you dropped her off last night?”

Tom shot an accusatory glance in your direction. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“No one had to tell me, Tom. You know you could’ve texted me before running off to fuck some random Italian girl that way at least somebody could have taken care of her.”

You watched as Tom’s gaze turned icy and his jaw clenched. “Why d’you assume that’s what I was doing?”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Haz sneered bitterly.

Wouldn’t be the first time? When the fuck had Tom lied about doing something when really he’d gone off to get laid? Had it been under your watch? Had he ever lied to your face and laughed about it behind your back with Harrison? A feeling of dread settled in your stomach at the implication. You shouldn’t care, but you did. Your mind told you that it was completely natural to be upset. Tom had possibly lied to you. But your heart told you that it was what he’d lied to you about that was making your stomach churn.

If either of the boys remembered you were still sitting there, they didn’t make an effort to include you in the conversation.

“Oh, fuck off, Osterfield.” Tom laughed angrily and ran a hand through his hair. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Well if you weren’t screwing some girl, what were you doing?”

As if he was suddenly reminded of your existence Tom looked over at you. You locked eyes with him and you could tell he was torn between lying to his best friend and telling Haz the truth, but you both knew what would happen if he came clean. You pleaded with your eyes for him not to. He needed to say something else. Anything else.

“Fine,” Tom spat. “I was with someone.” Anything but that.

Harrison looked equally surprised and furious. “You’re kidding.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Are you that dense? Y/n was nearly blacked out and you left her alone!”

“I made sure she got to the hotel safe. That was all anyone asked me to do.”

“I can’t believe you.”

Tom didn’t respond, but he didn’t back down. He just stood in front of Harrison with his hands in his pockets, glaring at him. You wished you could disappear. Or be anywhere but here, but you were frozen to the spot. They weren’t just bickering, they were fighting, and they were fighting because of you and you suddenly wished you could take everything back.

“Who was she?” Harrison asked.

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. “I never got a name.”

“Bullshit.”

He smirked slightly. “Just because she was screaming my name doesn’t mean I returned the favor.” God he was good at this, too good. You’d heard enough.

“Always a class act, Tom,” Haz rolled his eyes.

“Harrison, it’s fine,” you interjected finally, something you clearly should have done ages ago. Harrison tore his eyes away from Tom, his anger softening only slightly when he looked at you. “I’m an adult I can take care of myself.”

“You were really sick, y/n. Something could’ve happened,” he reasoned, now ignoring Tom who was still standing in front of both of you with his arms crossed.

“I only had, what, four or five drinks? I’ve handled much worse, trust me.”

Harrison didn’t look convinced. “You weren’t blacked out?” You shook your head, hoping he’d just drop it. Tom was due back on set any minute and he’d wasted his entire break arguing with his best friend. “What was the last thing I said to you?”

Fuck. “Um,”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Harrison, mate, drop it,” Tom sighed. “She’s still hungover can we talk about this later?”

All three of your pagers buzzed at the same time, meaning there wasn’t another choice anyway. Tom had to be back on set and you and Harrison had to get back to work.

“Yeah, whatever,” Haz muttered and watched Tom jog back off.

“What the fuck was that about?” you hissed lowly so that none of the other crew members could hear. “Tom’s your boss too, you know.”

“It’s fine,” Harrison brushed you off, not even looking at you now. “It’s not like he’s going to try to fire me.”

Ouch. You couldn’t even pretend that didn’t hurt. “Fuck you.” You stood and brushed off your shorts. “Come talk to me when you’ve decided to stop being an asshole.”

You couldn’t even focus on Tom’s schedule in front of you because you were still so put off by what had just happened. It had left a bitter taste in your mouth. The color coded highlighting jumbled together on the page and you couldn’t remember what any of the neon shades stood for.

The weirdest part of it all was that Tom was the one being nice to you? And Harrison was being a dick? You couldn’t make sense of it and your hangover wasn’t helping.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by in a blur. Somehow you were able to breeze through work without having to give anyone your full attention for the rest of the day. For probably the first time ever, Tom got where he needed to be when he needed to be there without you having to nag him. You half-wished someone had documented it.

You actually wore your headset for once, just to tune everyone out. You didn’t even have it switched to a channel.

The evening presented itself much more serenely than the morning had. You watched on from your spot with the other PAs by the canal as the sun sank below the stone buildings dramatically, painting the sky brilliant hues of orange and pink, eventually giving way to dusty shades of purple as dusk settled along the horizon.

“It’s time for more pills,” Tom leaned over and whispered, ignoring some of the glances from the rest of the table.The long day of filming had ended with a cast and crew dinner. There were only a few scheduled for the abroad legs of filming, but they were all mandatory, not that you could complain. You weren’t one to turn down free food, especially free food from Marvel.

“So you’re my drug dealer now?”

“Lower your voice,” Tom hissed and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Can’t have everyone knowing about my part-time gig.”

He passed two more ibuprofen over to you under the table which you fumbled, nearly dropping them, before actually bringing them to your mouth and swallowing with a sip of your lemonade.

“How are you keeping track of when I should take more painkillers better than I am?” You wondered aloud, looking at Tom intently.

He blinked like the question had caught him off-guard, but shrugged it off. “Easy. You’re hungover.”

You shrugged and let it go, but a little part of you wondered if that was really all. You couldn’t imagine Tom reminding you to tie your fucking shoes even just two days ago much less, remind you to take your medicine for a headache.

You noticed that Harrison had somehow managed to escape the mandatory dinner and you wondered where he could possibly be and how he’d charmed his way out of it. You were reminded, not for the first time, that you were surrounded by children disguised as adults. He couldn’t still be mad at Tom, could he? Was he mad at you? You wished he’d just grow up and get over it.

“So, I heard you had some fun last night, Tom,” Remy piped up from a few seats down with a smirk.

“Who told you that?” Jacob asked in confusion, looking over to Tom who apparently hadn’t told him yet.

“Not revealing my sources,” Remy insisted. “Journalistic integrity and all that.”

Tom chuckled and put his hands up defensively. “Alright, guilty.” He had all of the cast’s attention now. Everyone suddenly wanted to hear all about his night, about his conquest. You didn’t know if you could sit through it again.

“Think you’ll see her again?”

“Nah,” he said casually and stretched his arms out behind him.

You listened to Tom talk and watched as he settled into character. He spoke about sleeping with this woman he’d made up as if it was just another Tuesday night. Somehow it turned into a game of twenty questions and everyone wanted all the details. You wondered why they all cared so much, probably because he was acting like he didn’t. He was so perfect for the role, you weren’t sure why Hollywood kept casting him as these sweet, innocent, characters when he played fuckboy so well. Maybe because it hit a little too close to home. He appeared completely relaxed, and was joking around with the cast who were all eating out of the palm of his hand. The only thing that gave him away were the tips of his ears which you had noticed turned bright red as he talked.

You weren’t sure who asked, but someone at the table prodded Tom about what she was like. He didn’t hesitate to describe how gorgeous this mystery woman was and for a second you forgot it was all an act. If you hadn’t known better you’d say he was purposely going out of his way to describe someone who was everything you weren’t. It made you sink in your chair just a little.

“Sounds a lot like what happened in back in London,” Remy pointed out.

Tom froze for just a second, but long enough for you to catch it. “Yeah I guess so,” he said and kind of laughed it off, but rubbed his neck awkwardly.

Back in London. So Harrison was right, lying and then fucking a random girl was something Tom would totally do. It had been under your watch and apparently everyone knew, but you. Fantastic.

“Oh right, when was that?” you asked and you could swear every head at the table turned towards you. You realized you hadn’t contributed anything to the conversation yet and that most people probably hadn’t even known you were sitting there at all. But you figured the easiest way to get the truth was from someone who didn’t know you were the one who had been lied to.

“I think it was sometime around the filming of the bus scene, right?”

“Yeah,” Tom confirmed softly, with just a hint of edge in his voice.

“Right.” You nodded and pursed your lips tightly, afraid you might say something you didn’t mean if you didn’t.

Remy went on to tell the story, and everyone’s attention was back on him. If anyone noticed Tom’s eyes burning on you, they didn’t say anything. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored him, pretending to be wrapped up in Remy’s story, who was still blissfully ignorant to the tension at the table.

You remembered the day the bus scene was shot. They had put Tom and the rest of the cast on one of those double decker buses on one of the hottest days of the summer and then spent the entire day trying to figure out how to rig the camera so that it could swing smoothly between decks. There had been a two and a half hour break, mostly for safety since it was so warm out and they were still having technical difficulties.

Tom had made his way over to where and you Haz were sitting and interrupted your game of cards.

“I’m going to run to a quick PR meeting, kay?” It was more of a statement than a question and he ran a hand through his sweaty hair impatiently as he waited for you to pull up his schedule.

“You don’t have one today,” you said, squinting at your phone screen in the sunlight looking over the spreadsheet again just in case. “Press is months away.”

“It’s a last minute thing, only just got notified about it. They scheduled it because we have the break.”

“Okay,” you shrugged and put your sunglasses back on. “Just be back when we start again, and let security know.”

He ran off without a goodbye or thank you, but that was typical. You only spoke to each other when you had to. Haz dealt a new hand and you forgot about Tom for a while, until you realized Tom had gone and Harrison had stayed. One didn’t go somewhere without the other following closely behind, especially to meetings. That was Harrison’s thing, always had been, and you were glad he already had that down before you showed up because being trapped in a conference room with Tom talking numbers was your literal worst nightmare.

“Do you need to be at that meeting Tom’s at?” you asked as you drew from the deck. He looked up at you with confusion.

“Hm?”

“The PR meeting Tom’s at, shouldn’t you be there?”

“Oh, right. No, it’s confidential Marvel stuff I guess,” Haz explained simply before turning his attention back to the game. You were a little offended that Harrison had obviously known about the meeting beforehand and not bothered to say anything to you, making you look like an idiot, yet again, in front of Tom, but ultimately let is slide.

Tom had come back late, of course, out of costume, hair a mess, and cheeks pink. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realized it then. That he’d lied to you, used you. You’d filled the hole in his online schedule so that no one would wonder where he was, when in reality, you had no clue where the fuck he had actually been.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment now at the recollection of it all. How had you been so blind?

“You okay, y/n?” Zendaya asked, putting her hand on yours, pulling you out of the memory.

You looked up and realized food had been put in front of you, who knows how long ago, and you hadn’t even touched it.

“Yeah, sorry, still feeling the last of the hangover.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Z nodded knowingly. “Eat. It’ll help.”

You forced a smile. “Thanks.”

The conversation at the table had moved past Tom’s one night stand some time ago and everyone was lost in their own smaller groups, passing bread around and trying each other’s drinks. At least you wouldn't have to pretend to be interested in who Tom was fucking anymore.

Everyone clapped when one of the producers, you couldn’t remember his name, ordered a round of champagne for all of you, collected the check for the night and slapped down Marvel’s credit card. It was tradition.

You didn’t hesitate to take a glass when it was offered to you. The bubbles felt good on your throat and the crystal felt cool in your hands.

Tom nudged your shoulder. “Hey, if you’re still not feeling well maybe you should...” his sentence died off as he watched you chug the rest in spite. “You’re gonna regret that.” You shrugged. “Are you not talking to me now?” Another shrug. He sighed and rubbed his mouth with his thumb. “For fucks sake, y/n. You’re impossible.”

Everyone was still mingling and hugging around you, chatting about how the scenes went today and how the party was last night. The room had grown warm and stuffy and you wished you could slip away without being noticed, but you had nowhere to slip off to. Venice was still unfamiliar to you and you had no idea how to get back to the hotel from here.

Eventually, after most of the cast had already gone back to the hotel or off to wherever, Tom asked if you were ready to go and you followed him out of the restaurant and into the cool evening air. The sky was speckled with stars now, and the sidewalk was empty. It felt a little like last night, except you weren’t talking.

Tom led the way through winding, narrow cobblestone alleyways and you trusted he knew where he was going because you were lost in your own thoughts about what Harrison had said about Tom and what had happened back in London. You were still trying to make sense of it all.

“I’m sorry for sleeping with that girl back in London,” Tom said, breaking the silence finally and you stopped in your tracks.

“That's...not what I’m upset about Tom. I don’t care who you’re sleeping with.”

“Sure you don’t,” he scoffed and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m upset that you lied to me about it,” you continued, aware of how your voice was growing firmer.

“Why is that such a big deal?”

You looked at him, hard. “Fuck off.”

“No, I’m serious!”

“You could have just told me you were going to see someone, but you lied to me. You had Haz lie to me, you let me believe it for months!”

“Right, like you haven’t lied to me before. And how is London any different from what I’m doing here?”

“It’s not the same thing!” you cried.

“How so?”

“You’re lying to your friends. I am your handler. Something happens to you, it’s on me. Don’t you get that?!”

“Yeah, I am lying to my friends. My best friend. And I’m lying to him, to all of them for you, y/n. It’s your ass on the line, not mine.”

You took a step closer to him. “Are you fucking threatening me?”

Tom took a step forward in turn. “Should I be?”

You wanted to scream. “You’re unbelievable, Tom! God, I can’t believe I ever took this job, I can’t believe I haven’t fucking quit yet, I can’t believe I’m halfway around the fucking world with you of all people-” then suddenly, out of nowhere, Tom leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, effectively cutting you off.

ok wow finally in part eleven they fucking kiss lol also remy stans wherever u are I added him in for y’all :) anyway lmk what u think, I always appreciate feedback!

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