#did you know bellis is part of the scientific name for a daisy

[beliscary]

there's a tower in belisaere called dolorous bastion

[hardyimagines]

Summer In Italy

Reader is spending the days with her family at their 17th-century villa in Italy. Reader meets Tom, a handsome scientific student who's working as intern for her father. Reader and Tom discover the beauty of awakening desire. ( Smut/Heated Scenes )

Reader is 17, Tom is 38! ( requested )

Plot based on ‘Call Me By Your Name’.

Part 2     Part 3      Part 4 

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Part 1 of 5

The scent of bread was thick in the air as you made your way down the cobblestone road. Your curious eyes ran along the towering buildings that bordered one another. Each one was rocky, old, falling apart in various different places, but still just as sturdy as it was when it had been built. Your wandering eyes settled on the tall green sign that clearly displayed the word ‘Bakery’ along the front of it in wide, white, block letters, no doubt used to reel in passerby’s. You gave the shop a lingering look, nostrils flaring at the tempting scent, but you didn’t give in to temptation so easily.

The basket you cradled on your arm was packed full of treats, a grocery list settled on the top of the bagged fruit with check-marks to signal what you’d purchased for your mother. You tipped your head south to study the cursive letters, examining the page to ensure that even though the checks stained the paper, that you’d actually bought the item and hadn’t merely made a mental note. You lifted the slip of paper, torn in the corner from your mother’s poor ability before crumpling it up and shoving it into the pocket of your high-waisted shorts.

Along the road and toward the end where the street broke off into a left and a right turn, you kept going forward and toward a tall, black, iron gate. Your fingers lifted to twist the lock, undoing it momentarily so you could slip through the opening before you locked it back and continued on your way. The gate brought you to an alley-like space, small and confined, but straight forward. You lifted yourself off of the ground and on to the curb, doing your best to maintain your balance as you wobbled on the narrow walkway. Your yellow-colored sneakers were murky from the puddles you’d been stomping through all day, sunset beating down on you brighter than it had been when it was high in the sky. Your shoes looked orange in the bright glow, stained with black speckles here and there, but still worthy of being kept and worn.

Exiting the path through the alley, you made your way toward the field of never-ending trees and tall blades of grass. Though this was your least favorite part of the walk, it was necessary and cut your journey in half. Your fingers crossed as you adjusted your grip on the basket in hand, eyes clamping shut as you inwardly hoped to avoid all traces of poison ivy and nettle. It was highly unlikely for you to find any in these parts, but since your last experience with both plants — you were scarred and always paranoid.

Your feet pushed off the ground hurriedly, sending your body into a full blown sprint. The fruits in the basket wobbled angrily, shaking in their captor’s grip as they bounced off of one another. You glanced down, ensuring that none of them were going to accidentally fall out of the basket.. they weren’t. Pushing on, you leaped and skipped and bolted through the tall grass and various trees before heaving a loud sigh of relief when you reached the other side.

You were completely out of breath. Beads of sweat marked the length of your face, giving you a radiant glow which one might think was highlight from makeup or a natural, beautiful hue, but no it was just the sight of exhaustion, seeping from your sweat glands to stain your flesh with the salty droplets. You wiped at your forehead with your forearm before slowing your pace down considerably and continuing on toward the villa at the end of the road.

The houses were different colors than the buildings. The workshops were different shades of brown, rusted and old, but the homes varied from dark shades of orange to soft shades of blue. The basket swung at your side now carelessly as you took in the sight surrounding you. Your fingertips absentmindedly traced the seemingly endless row of daisies that bordered the street. The pedals were soft beneath your touch, tickling you almost from their tender brush.

You let out a quiet hum, a sound of content and relief at finally arriving back to your home. The cars parked in the driveway were unfamiliar, but no questions arose. Your father was a busy man, business meant all kinds of people would show up to the house unexpectedly. You were never too surprised. Skipping past the line of white cars, you studied them momentarily before making your way into the wide entrance.

“Mom!” Your voice floated throughout the house. Removing the tan bandana from its tied position in your lengthy locks, you dropped it on the table beside the pile of keys before making your way down the corridor and toward the kitchen. Your sneakers left a muddy trail from all the water you’d been clumsily carrying with you for the journey, but you remained oblivious. “I got the food!” You shouted once more.

“Darling, your mother’s getting the laundry!” Your father’s, Edgar, mellow voice met your shout. You looked briefly toward the arch to your left, ears twitching to see if he would speak again. He didn’t. You heaved a soft sigh before prying out the small bags. Opening each one, you drew out its contents and tucked it away in its rightful place. Drawer after drawer slammed shut, the cabinets creaked when you pulled them open. Your final place was the cupboard and it was no quieter than the rest. “Muppet, why don’t you come in here for a second! There’s some people I want to introduce you to!” Your father’s voice sounded again.

The initial annoyance that bubbled in your belly made you want to decline his demand, but when you pondered doing that — you figured you might embarrass him and these could be very important clients. With a gentle sigh, a very quiet sound, you lugged the fridge open and grasped a bottle of ready-to-go orange juice before making your way through the arch and into the den.

The space was wide; open, large windows bordering the length of the walls. You briefly peered through the glass and down at the waves that crashed against the side of the rocks. It was only when the sound of your father’s chair, scratching the floor, filled the room that you looked in his direction.

“Y/n.” He moved around the oval shaped table and approached you with an extended arm. The watch on his wrist was cold as it grazed your skin. “Honey, this is Randal.” He ushered toward the bloke perched on the arm of the sofa.

Randal was bald. No more then 30. He had black eyebrows, a pointed noise, hollow cheeks. His skin was tanned considerably and his eyes were golden, a seemingly impossible color. You briefly wondered if he was wearing contacts. Your sweet smile was one that he returned before he downed the remnants of the wine in his glass. His lips closed around the olive, attached to the side of his cup before he stood and made his way toward the built-in bar so he could refill his drink.

“And this,” Your father spoke again. “this is Eugene.” You rotated around, following the direction of your father’s hand once more. The ring on his wedding ring finger glistened beneath the ray’s of the sun as it managed to briefly shine through the wide window.

Eugene was small. Maybe 20. He wore glasses and a tucked in shirt. He had sandy locks, brown eyes, and a sturdy stance. He seemed kind, but manipulative, eager. You squinted momentarily before bidding him a nod as a greeting. He sent you a tip of his hat, the type a cowboy would venture out in, entirely too out of place. He didn’t move from his spot, he shyly fidgeted, unsure of what he was meant to do. You made the decision for him by turning away.

“These are my employees while we’re here, babe, so you’ll want to get to know them.” The man twisted in the slightest so he could squat down and resume working on the unfinished project that stood tall on the table. You didn’t know what it was — and you couldn’t even take a guess.

“Am I not being introduced?” An out of place accent thickly cut into the mix. It was deep, warm, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You straightened in the slightest, afraid to twist around and see who’d so confidently made themselves known.

Your father wore a smug smile and then a cocky tint in his gaze before he lifted the wrench closest to him and briefly pointed it in the direction of the newest member of the little meet and greet. “That’s Tom. Thinks he’s gonna be a big fuckin success one day.” Your father evidently found amusement and humor in mocking the man who’d just entered.

Tom was taller than you. He had brown hair and blue eyes. His mouth was full, pink, a complete and utter beauty to ogle. He had cheeks that were tempting to touch, so soft in appearance despite the stubble that coated his jaw, cheeks, and the area surrounding his mouth. You straightened further before twisting around to face the bloke. He was the only one you spoke to.

“Thinks.. or knows?” You inquired as he approached. He wasn’t shy in the slightest, you decided as he weaved around the counter that was in his way and approached you until his hand could brush yours. It did so in a polite manner. He opened his palm before allowing the large thing to wrap around your own, securing your hand in a very different greeting than the others had done. Your eyes dropped to his hand, noting his permanently bent pinky.

“I’m not a fortune teller,” His lips curved upward in the slightest before he released your palm. “but I’ve got a pretty good feeling..”

“Y/n.” You could tell he was letting the sentence drift because he didn’t know your name.

“Y/n.” He filled in the blank, tasting the name on his tongue once and deciding that it was enough for him to determine that he did in fact like the way it sounded.

“Tom is going to be staying with us for the summer.” Your father piped up again. He set the wrench down on the table, unbothered when it noisily clattered against the surface. His eyes lifted to the two of you, brows high and lips pursed. “think we might have to give him your room, honey. The spare doesn’t have any air.” He stood. His hands pushed into the deep pockets of his trousers, drawing out the slips of paper he would need for the rest of the day. Randal and Eugene approached the table to inspect the pages. They wouldn’t be staying for the summer, they weren’t as needed or as curious as Tom.

The man was tempted to argue that you really didn’t need to give up your room — but this was how all scenarios played out. He would insist he’d be fine in the room with no air and you’d be sweet and bat those lengthy eyelashes and insist that it was alright.

Internally, you swore because your bedroom was your private space and you didn’t want some man in his 40’s taking it. But externally you sent your dad an understanding smile before moving away from the four of them and back to the window. Your palm pressed against the surface, residing against the clean pane momentarily before you let out a breathy sigh.

“I think I’m going to go down to the pool for a bit.” You spoke softly. Lifting your hand to the chain that hung around your neck, you pinched the jewel absentmindedly before sending a lingering look in the men’s direction. The only one staring was Eugene, but you could feel the heated gaze belonging to Randal as he shyly did his best to look over at you without being so obvious. Tom was enraptured by the work your father was doing, no interest at all in the 17 year old stood in the corner. He was 38, he couldn’t be wasting his time with girls your age.

The floor creaked beneath your retreating footsteps and once you’d left the room, you let out a puff of annoyed air. Making your way toward the long staircase, you placed your palm on the handrail and used it to help lift yourself on to the steps. Scrambling up the length of them and directly toward your bedroom, you nudged the heavy wood open with your foot before vanishing inside. The door slammed shut noisily, but not as loud as it would if you were angry, before bouncing back open because of its inability to close all the way. Dropping down on the edge of your bed, you let a breath of annoyance pass from your lips before you glanced around the room and made a mental note of what you’d need to bring with you to the spare room.

The bubble in your belly was already sprouting tension. You knew you’d be annoyed for the remainder of the day, if not week, because you’d have to sleep in the one room in the house that the air vents didn’t cover. You rolled off the bed and moved to the corner. Grabbing your tall basket, you began to shove your necessities into the thing. Clothing, your diaries, your radio, shoes, whatever you didn’t want to have to come back into the room for, you clutched and shoved it into the basket before taking it across the hall and into the adjoining room.

You left it there, still jammed full of your belongings, before you made your way back across the hall in order to put on your swimsuit. Hauling off the button down blouse you were clad in, you tossed it into your laundry basket before slipping out of your shorts. The belt that was hooked through the loops on the fabric was swiftly tugged free before discarded on the bed. You let out a soft hum as you slipped out of your shorts, black laced underwear following directly after.

The air in the room was cool, drawing goosebumps from your warm skin as you did your best to hurriedly drag on the orange bikini on your dresser. The pattern was floral, pretty, it complimented your skin because of how bright it was. You beamed momentarily before grabbing the striped towel from your closet and then sauntering off.

The glass door that led to the patio was drawn open before it slammed shut behind you automatically. Your feet — still clad in the murky sneakers, padded quietly against the rocks as you stepped on the path of stones. The pool was hidden in a mass of trees, tucked away at the backside of the villa. It was your favorite place to go. During the day, you could be alone with your thoughts, jotting down poems and ideas you had and when the sun bid the world farewell your boyfriend, Daniel, would come over so that the pair of you could nightswim.

The boy was already waiting. He had thick, black locks. They were shaggy and lengthy, hanging in front of his eyes incessantly. He would push the dark strands out of his green eyes, revealing the deep pools to you. He had a permanent upward curve of his lips, mouth thin, but not too small. His lips were a darker shade, a red that was enchanting to stare at. He was a sweet boy, tall and lanky, like a spaghetti noodle. You’d been dating him for seven months and you still wouldn’t call the feelings that you held for him ‘love’. You merely cared about him a significant amount.

Daniel was already in the pool, submerged in the blue water. It sloshed against the edges creating a soft, peaceful sound as he moved from one end of the pool to the other. Your sudden appearance made him grin. You could see, so clearly, that he thought you were his happy ever after. His love and adoration radiated off of him, as if he carried his own rays. You didn’t think you’d ever truly love the boy, but your heart told you that it would do its best and try.

Inside, Tom was stood at the piano in the corner, pad of his thumb gliding along his tongue as he went over the instructions laid out on the top of the instrument. The piano had nothing to do with the work that the four men were working on, but it was a very nice, wide surface to use as a table.

“Evening, gentleman!” The soft sound of your mother’s, Rose, voice carried into the room they were working in. She had curled, blonde locks. Strawberry shaded. Her lips were painted with the new cherry flavored gloss and her cheeks looked like she’d stood in the mirror and slapped them twenty times each. Her favorite color was red. And she made sure the whole world knew it. “Edgar! Honey, where’s Y/n?” Her voice was like a sing-song, up and down in pitch. It dripped with her curiosity.

“Down by the pool, my love.” Edgar was on his back, buried beneath the contraption they were working on. “Randal.” He extended his arm, fingers wiggling as he waited to be given the wrench. Tom was lost in the way his pencil slid along the paper, making marks here and there where it was necessary and Eugene was assuring Randal in keeping a strong hold on the thing so it didn’t topple over.

“Well she needs to come in soon! I told you to stop letting her venture out until after supper.” Her tone was exasperated but because of its softness, it was impossible to tell she was upset.

Edgar sighed quietly before lifting his head. His little girl had just left. He was going to slide out from underneath the built project, but both Randal and Eugene halted the man.

“You’ve got to tighten the bolts! It’s going to collapse- that’s the whole reason you’re under there!” Eugene squirmed before looking toward Tom. “You go get the girl, he’s clearly unable to do it.”

Tom wore a pair of glasses low on the bridge of his nose, peering down at the paper in front of him. His hand stilled, eyes moving over his shoulder so he could inspect the men. Were they really talk to him? Why did he have to go fetch you, you weren’t his kid. Edgar wore a look of plea, hopeful that the bloke could do him the small favor and run down to the pool to retrieve his little girl. Tom sighed gently before setting his pen down. He gave the paper in front of him a lingering look before he pushed off his forearms and moved to the corner. He supposed he’d do it but only because Edgar was teaching him — and allowing him to stay in his home. He’d seen you slip out the glass door earlier so he headed toward the exit.

“Follow the rocks- they take you right to the pool. It’s a little ways away, but you’ll get there!” Edgar’s breaths were heavy from his attempt to rush and finish what needed to be done, but all of the men, including Tom, knew that the current task would take at least another 30 minutes to complete. Tom set off out into the evening air. Minute by minute, the sky darkened and the air grew to be just a little chillier. He didn’t know where he was going, but the rocks only went in one direction and he swore he could hear the soft sound of sloshing water.

Through the trees and at the end of the rocky path, the pool was situated. You were submerged in the water, arms looped around your boyfriend’s strong shoulders and legs securely hooked around his thighs. You gripped on to him tightly, shallow breaths hitting the side of his neck as he did his best to thrust his hips in the water. The pool did its best to restrain him, drawing heavy whimpers from your lips when you begged for him to go harder and he found himself incapable. Having sex in the pool wasn’t ideal, but you weren’t going to bring him back to the house. That was far too risky.

The sound of branches snapping could be heard from a few feet away, drawing your attention to the corner. Daniel’s grip on you was firm though, entirely too secure. You whimpered from frustration, attempting to pry yourself out of his grasp before whoever was approaching could see, but it was too late. By the time Daniel had realized you were trying to get away from him, a tall bloke turned the corner. It was evident what he’d just walked in on. Daniel was red in the face, breathing heavily and you were struggling to tie your bikini top. Daniel was quick to lug his swim shorts back up and send you an apologetic look. He didn’t know Tom and he didn’t do good with confrontation so without much thought, he lifted himself out of the pool and hurriedly grabbed the towel off of the pool bar. He sent you one more look, an apologetic expression that he knew you’d forgive. You swatted your hand. He was so pathetic. Why was he running off as if he’d been caught by your father opposed to an intern.

You sighed quietly before moving toward the steps. Daniel didn’t bother saying anything at all before running back toward his house, leaving you unfulfilled and annoyed. Adjusting the swimsuit that was now fastened in its rightful place, you brushed past the man, elbow skimming his chest accidentally.

“Did my father send you out after me?” You inquired, not bothering at first to bring up what he’d just seen. Locking the towel around your shoulders, your lashes fluttered, droplets of water drying in place on the thin hairs as he studied you. You received a short grunt from the man. “He can never seem to come out here himself.” You whispered before lifting the towel and tying it around your locks.

“Would you rather your father have caught you doing...” he pointed to the pool, narrowing his blue eyes as if that would make you stiffen or feel threatened.

“I’m old enough to have sex.” You shrugged in the slightest before peering up at him as he seemed to ponder how to reply to you. You took the time then to scrutinize him. He wore a pair of denim jeans and a button down that told you he’d never even been to Italy before. His clothing, though it looked good on him, made him look like a foreigner. You smiled lazily. You weren’t from here either, but you dressed the part.

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I just think no father would want to walk in on their daughter.” He lifted his gaze to the surrounding trees as they shook. “It’s time for dinner.” He told you firmly before waiting for you to twist around and head that way. He was sure you already knew, seeing as he clearly wasn’t the first person your parents had sent out in order to retrieve you. You said nothing else before turning around and heading back toward the home. Your barefeet picked up speckles of dirt and leaves as you walked, trying your hardest to stay on the stepping stones, but it was impossible to avoid all the twigs. Tom was directly behind you, eyes scanning your small form as you skipped and hopped and avoided whatever you could.

Your hand wrapped around the silver handle when you reached the villa. Twisting the thing, you nudged it open before halting in the doorway. You craned your neck around in order to study the man, ready to ensure that he wasn’t going to tell your parents about what he saw, but before you could ask, your mother poked her head out from the kitchen.

“Honey, get some clothes on, its time for supper.” She told you before stepping across the hall so she could tend to any glasses that needed to be refilled. You sucked in a sharp breath of air before looking back toward Tom. There was a silent question in your gaze, but he wasn’t a mind reader so as you ascended the steps, he gave you a longing look of curiosity. It lingered before he made his way back into the den to resume with the paper he’d been so thoroughly working on earlier.

Rose had set the table. Six plates surrounded the dining area, fork, spoon, and knife set out beside each dish in case it was needed. She filled each glass with ice cold water and then dished our plate fulls of salad and chicken. The tablecloth that lined the oak wood was a baby blue, stainless and newly purchased so as she passed, she brushed her fingers along the material, silently hoping that nobody spilled anything on it.

You were stood in front of your smudged mirror, combing out your wet strands of hair that were drying under very humid air. You smoothed down your strands before taking half and clipping it back and out of your face. You were dressed down in a romper know, a green colored suit that embraced your figure snugly, but had length and class to it — very appropriate for dinner. Your sneakers had been left by the pool, toppled over crookedly beneath one of the lawn chairs and you let out a heavy string of curses at the realization that you’d have to traipse back down there in the morning to retrieve the shoes.

Twisting around on your heel, you slipped on your black flats before making your way out of the room and down the stairs toward the dining room. Everyone was beginning to pile in all at once. Edgar took his place at one end of the table, leaving rose to sit at the other end. Two seats resided parallel to one another and you knew, deep down, that Randal and Eugene were going to bark at one another and fight over who got to sit beside you so you purposefully dipped into the room behind Tom and took the seat directly beside his own.

His blue eyes flickered to you, wondering why you’d been so quick to grasp the seat, but he said nothing verbally. Lowering himself down into the creaky wood, he looked toward the men on the opposite side who wore disappointed looks at losing the chance to sit beside you during dinner. You let out a quiet hum before setting your hand on your fork. Lifting the cutlery, you sunk the sharp tongs into a leaf of lettuce before beginning to eat the first part of the meal.

Edgar was eager to boast about the new project, bouncing from topic after topic of seemingly the same thing. Only the boys participated in the conversation; each one sharing little snippets of their input now and then. Tom was the quietest of the bunch, Eugene was the loudest. Edgar chortled about this and that and you wore a look of confusion, head shaking in the slightest at their sense of strange humor.

“You guys are nerds.” You whispered out in a teasing manner before looking toward your mother when she cleared her throat. She was just as quiet as you. Her lips twitched upward, making it evident that she found your comment funny. The men all wore looks of mild distaste.

“Nerds?” Eugene piped up.

“Ah, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Edgar chimed in. “Everyone’s a nerd to her, she doesn’t understand what we’re talking about.” He tossed a small tomato in your direction but you were quick to avoid the flying food.

“Hey!” You lifted the same piece and flung it back. Tom leaned back in his seat to avoid the food that flew from one side of the room to the other and Rose winced each time it traveled.

“Honey!” She halted her husband. “I don’t want to get any dressing on the tablecloth.” She pleaded before looking toward you. “Truce for now, okay?” Her words told Tom that a food fight was a regular occurrence. He almost smiled at the fact, but he hid the expression by continuing to eat.

Edgar pointed toward you, eyes narrowed playfully. “This isn’t over.” He assured you before dropping the tomato on to his side dish of untouched food. He didn’t like tomatoes, so it was in his discard pile.

The rest of dinner went by smoothly. The nerds halted their scientific conversations and discoveries. Your mother shared small looks with your father. And you, well, you’d managed to eat all your food for once because the woman at the end of the table had made a full meal you enjoyed.

After dinner was done, you helped your mother clean up all the scattered plates and rinse off the remaining food. Most of it was sauce from the dressing and grease from the chicken, so you took the glasses to the sink and scrubbed them until they were void of any mess. Tom was positioned on the sofa in the den, legs folded and eyes latched on to the booklet he cradled. Edgar was leaning over the piano, seemingly filling in the blanks on the paper that had been passed around the room all day. Eugene and Randal had already gone home so that meant it was time for you to head to the guest room and settle down for bed.

The mattress was hard beneath your body as you collapsed on top of the thing. It was stiff and ridden with dust, but you didn’t complain. There was no point — nothing would change. Staring up at the dark ceiling, you let out a quiet hum before reaching for the lamp in the corner. Cutting it on so you could instead write in your journal, you rolled on to your stomach and bent your knees. The pen that was attached to the side of the booklet wrote swiftly. Curving along with your hand and gliding along the page without fault. You were lost in the words that you stained the paper with, ankles rotating lazily.

Tom let out a gruff grunt and then a heavy puff of air as he tried his best to shut the door that would seal him away in your bedroom. You could hear his struggle from over your shoulder as he tried not once, not twice, but three times to get the jammed thing to shut. You lifted yourself up on your elbow.

“It doesn’t close!” You called out loud enough for him to hear. “It broke last year..” The man traced the wood with his fingertips before opening it and slowly making his way across the hall. Poking his head into the room you now stayed in, he inspected the length of it. It was definitely hot. Too dark to see any detail apart from what the dim lamp lit up. You sent him a soft smile before closing your journal. “Guess your luck ran out. Youve got air, but no privacy I’m afraid.” You wrapped your arms around your knees, inspecting the man as he came to a halt in your doorway.

“What makes you think I like privacy?” His voice was quiet. The last thing he wanted was for your parents to think he was some creepy old git sneaking across the hall to chat with their daughter. He leaned against the wall, studying you as you wiggled on the bed.

“You did just slam the door three times to try and get it to close.” You pointed out before standing from the bed. He noted the amusement in your gaze before folding his thick arms over his chest. You moved to the basket in the corner before pinching your pajamas and lifting them from the place that held all your belongings. He let out a quiet grunt at your words, unable to think of how he could defend himself against it. “So,” You tipped your head to one side, clutching your clothing to your stomach. “Did you tell my dad what you saw at the pool?”

Tom’s brows shot up. Confusion piled in his stomach as he looked down at you. His head shook. “It’s not my business what you do with your boyfriend and I don’t think your father would be too happy if he found out from me.” He grumbled. He sensed that you were playing with him. The way you wore a smirk and then once he said he was tattling, it morphed into a snide grin. “Plus,” His eyes moved away from your own. “I think you’re old enough. I’d be a hypocrite if I said I wasn’t doing the same thing at that age.” His hand lifted to his cheek, scratching at the stubble that resided there. You giggled quietly before folding your arms and retreating back over to the bed.

It was weird, how natural it felt to talk to him, but you didn’t let your thoughts wonder. He was much older and even though he was very nice to look at and easy to talk to, you knew it wouldn’t be wise to let your suddenly racing heart grow attached to him. He pushed off the doorway and looked over his shoulder before letting a quiet sigh leave his lips.

“Well, I’m going for a shower.” His hand curled around your door. “And I’m going to close this since you’ll be able to see straight into my room.” He grumbled. His voice was soft, almost shy, and you swiftly drew your bottom lip in before nodding once along to his words. That was understandable. He didn’t want to flash you.

“Goodnight.” You told him softly before lifting your pen once more. You began to write again. This time much quicker. The remainder of the page was about the man across the hall and all the feelings he’d made bubble in your belly in such a short span of time. You knew the feelings were wrong to feel and he would never ever return them, but you could still jot them down.

You’d remember him always as the forbidden intern you longed to get to know.

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End Part 1 of 5

Part 2    Part 3      Part 4

A/N: Remember when I uploaded Escape and there was a bunnnnnch of disagreement on the age gap? I would like for all hate to be kept to yourself! It’s just a story. I put at the top that there is a significant age difference — please don’t read any further than this chapter if you don’t like the age gap! I won’t be changing it like I changed ‘Escape’!

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz @97freaknik @hot-and-spiceyyy @shane-isa-shame @chimthighz @azayamari @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

On A Trip

(Carry On CountDown Day 20)

(SnowBaz) (Normals AU)

Length: 1103

Genre: I honestly could not tell you 

Trigger Warnings: None

-

Baz has to ruin everything. I was so looking forward to this field trip but now I’m counting the agonizing seconds until it’s over. We’re on a hike to collect samples of plants... or something. I honestly don’t understand what we’re doing. I asked Penny, but she went into a lecture about how the trip was a waste of time and plant life. I didn’t really care why we were going, I just enjoy being outside instead of being stuck in a stuffy classroom.

That was until I found out we had partners and Baz was mine. He’s such a prick all the time and I don’t know why. Ok sure, when we were like eight, I called him Vampy. But I was a kid!!! And to be fair he looked like a vampire! He has dark long hair, widows peaks, his teeth are even extra sharp, I swear, and one day he spilled cranberry juice so it looked like blood all over him. The only thing he was missing was the pale skin. He’s Egyptian actually, his skin’s a glorious dark red/gold.

Anyways, we’re in high school now and he still hates me.

Right now he’s staring at some leaves, ignoring me. He’s tied his hair up in a bun, I’d call it ridiculous but honestly he can pull it off. Prick. I would ask for help but Baz’ll scoff and tell me I’m an idiot. He’s always good at everything, unlike me.

I look around hoping Penny will save me some how. She’s busy actually working with Trixie (that’s surprising).

Baz stretches after putting a leaf in a bag. “Are you planning on standing there brain dead all day or are you capable of actually doing some work in this, partnership.” He says the last word like it’s poison on his lips.

“Yeah uh...” I scratch the back of my neck. He’s going to be so pissed. “I do- well see I don’t re-really… uh.”

“Spit it out Snow.” He acts as if it’s exhausting to be in my presence, “I haven’t got all day!”

“I don’t really know what exactly it is that we’re doing???” I stare at my shoes.

“I’m not surprised, yet somehow still disappointed, Snow.” Is all he says before turning his back on me, continuing to work.

Awkward is the nicest way I can think to describe the silence that follows. After what seems like a millennia, our professor spots me just standing around and tell me to get to work. Reluctantly I kneel by Baz.

“Hey,”

He doesn’t even try to hide his contempt. “What.”

“Do you think, maybe you could help me out? I wouldn’t even be asking but- well except I, I just got yelled at for not doing anything, so…”

“Fine, Snow. What do you remember about botany class and what lessons did you space out for?”

“Uh...”

“You actually don’t know anything do you?”

I blush. “No.”

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Okay then. This-” he picks at a leaf “-is the invasive species-” blah blah blah, he went on forever about plants and science but who cares. When he finished, I tried processing all the information, I didn’t get most of it thought.

“Ok, sure, seems… simple.”

“You’re completely lost.” He states matter-of-factly.

“Well sorry we can’t all be Mr. A+ over here!” I throw my hands up.  

“No, S-Snow, calm down, it’s fine, I just want to make sure you understand before I try telling you more.”

“Fine, can you go back to the sunlight part?”

“Sure.”

I have no idea how long he spent basically catching me up on an entire semester of botany. Eventually, I got it. Then I started asking him about all the different plants on the forest floor. For some reason Baz has a vast knowledge of plant life, then again what doesn’t Baz have a vast knowledge of.

Gradually we trail further and further away from the rest of the class, neither of us noticed for a while though. I was too busy actually not hating spending time with Basilton Pitch. Who’d ‘ve thought, eh?

“What’s the scientific name for a daisy?” I ask as I see a patch of them.

“Bellis Perennis.”

“Bell-is Pear-en-is. Cool.” I smile at him. Casually I pick a few and stick one behind his ear. I think Baz blushes but he moves away too quickly.

“Well Snow,” He clears his throat, “I think we’ve got enough- Shit.”

“What?” I turn.

“We’ve lost everyone. Great, now I’m stuck in a bloody forest with Simon bloody Snow, just how I wanted to die.” He seems to be thinking out loud. I’m fully aware of the fact that he hates me and I didn’t think one day on truce would change that; but I’m still hurt by his words.

“Right, ‘cause I’m the absolute worst.” I let out before thinking. Baz’s furls his brows, his lips turn down.

Another silence passes until Baz speaks up. Quietly, unsurely he says, “That, that’s not what I meant I mean-” He’s adamantly starring at the leaf covered ground “-It’s not, shit I’m bad at this, uh sorry…? I- You’re not a bad person to spend time with.” His dark cheeks have undertones of pink now.

“Is that the great Basilton Pitch, apologizing, to me?”

“Shut up,” He bashfully smiles. It’s glorious. “Or I’ll take it back.”

“But you stuttered! Were you nervous?” I poke fun at him.

“Stop. I’m serious.” His blush intensifies.

“Sorry, apology accepted.” I stick out my hand. He stares confused for a second before shaking it.

“Okay, now let’s figure out how to get out of here.” I nod.

We trace our steps back on the fallen leaves. Sun filters through the trees. Basilton voice speaks to me about nature, his skin glows wonderful warm colors. At some point we start holding hands, I’m afraid that pointing it out will cause it to stop. I don’t want to stop holding Baz’s hand.

We make it back to the flock of kids with no damage (besides a 15 minute lecture about wondering off and getting lost and forest safety from our teacher). The trip is basically over after that.

On the bus ride back I sit with Baz. We don’t talk, but he offers me an earbud so we listen to some indie music, watch the sun through the window, and lean on each other. I don’t really know what this means but I know it’s different. A good different. So I don’t think about it. I just enjoy the sounds I hear and the warmth I feel.

-

(Can you tell I’ve never taken a botany class and bullshitted my way thought this??)

I’ve been “gone” for almost a week because the writing juices just weren’t flowing. But I’m back! Who knew some obscure indie music at a friends birthday party would get me to write about Snowbaz? Anyway, I’m gonna post the fics that I wrote (even though they’re all super late) So I hope you don’t mind reading my stuff days behind everyone else!