alldayangst

[alldayangst]

EUPHORIA Trouble Don’t Last Always

#rue bennett #jules vaughn #euphoriagif

[alldayangst]

[alldayangst]

Since it’s pride month I was wondering if you could write Peter discovering his feelings for a boy or coming out as Bi? It’s totally okay if not, love you! Happy pride month

Request 2: Can you do a headcanon for peter being bi?

A/n: I combined these requests because they were similar and I loved them so much. In honour of pride month I give you Bi Peter Parker. I really liked writing this even though it’s 3am and I wrote it on my phone (sorry for any errors). This is also my first attempt at a male!Reader x Peter so be kind 💕 I actually really like pride requests so feel free to send more!

Note: If you don’t like them don’t read, please don’t spread hate. Thank you 💜💙💖

Warnings: talks of sexuality and questioning, lots of fluff, mlm kissing

Peter was 13 when he first realised that he might like boys as well as girls

And it was all because of the Maze Runner and Dylan O’Brien

He kept his feelings to himself because he thought it was weird but continued to feel more conflicted as time went on

Sometimes he liked girls, sometimes he liked boys and sometimes he liked both. He’d never felt more confused

Eventually he had bigger problems to deal with like fighting villains with mechanical wings and he didn’t have much time to think about other stuff

It wasn’t until he was in senior year that he got another crush on a boy, one that wouldn’t go away

They were science partners in class and started to spend most of their time together

Peter was one smitten kitten

He blushed and laughed around the boy and often made an embarrassment of himself and that’s when he had called peter “cute”. His cheeks were bright red the rest of that day

They were working on their science project one afternoon in Peter’s room, laughing and joking before they both realised how close they were and how beautiful the other looked in the sunlight pouring in from the windows.

As soon as their lips touched peter was soaring and the rush of adrenaline he felt as he kissed his crush back was more than what he felt as Spider-man. It was pure lust and love and passion, everything he’d been craving

It was that night Peter decided it was time to tell May his truth.

He wrote a whole speech down on cards (he definitely didn’t cry writing it) and was all ready to tell her, his hands shaking.

“I need to tell you something.”

May smiled encouragingly at him and closed her book, urging him to go on

“I-“ peter referred back to the speech he held in his shaking hands before realising that this was the woman who knew him better than anyone and loved him for who he was regardless of anything

“Is this to do with the cute boy you had in your room today?” May smirked playfully and Peter’s blush spread from his neck to his ears.

“I- well kinda.” Peter chuckled and took a deep breath before blurting it out. “I’m bi. Bisexual.”

He closed his eyes tight as if afraid of the reaction he would get but at the same time he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders as he said those words aloud for the first time to someone other than himself.

Before Peter could sense what was happening May had him wrapped in a tight hug and every last feeling of nerves Peter had washed away in an instant. He let himself feel everything he needed to as tears ran down his cheeks and onto her shoulder

“I love you Peter no matter what.” She cupped his cheek as she pulled back and wiped his tears, he nodded and smiled wide.

“Thank you” was all he could manage as May smiled back at him, with nothing but kindness and love in her eyes.

Peter hugged her again with tightly, feeling confident in who he was now that he had told the person who meant everything to him.

“So about this cute boy..” May laughed and nudged Peter as his cheeks turned red once again. He laughed with her and bashfully told her what had happened which she was nothing but happy about, with some light teasing of course.

The next time he came around to work on their “project”, May always made a joke about keeping the door open which made Peter turn pink as the other boy laughed.

If you’ve changed your username who want to be removed/added to my taglist please let me know 💖

Permanent - @eeyore101247 @sinisterspidey @darlingspidey @ameelia @parkerpeter24 @rebekkah4766 @peaches-parker​ @tom-hlover @parker-hollandx @call-me-baby-gir1 @cosmicvibecheck @outshineallthestars @theglitterymess @dummiesshort @sadxaries @boujee-bitches @lowkey-holland @miraclesoflove @quaksonhehe @emistrash @namoreno @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @parkerbunny @stixnstripesworld @jackie1819 @flower-name @nuttytani @the-fan-18 @capital-koreasofia @lovehollandy12 @petersasteria @mathletemadison

Peter Parker - @teen--marvel @musicalkeys @spideyspeaches​ @kickingn-ames @shakespeareanqueer @dpaccione @dreamy-clousds @justwantstosleep @petersgroupie

#pbp: fic rec #happy pride 🌈

[alldayangst]

Someone needs to write a fic with Tom or Peter and y/n based on Favorite Crime by Olivia Rodrigo maybe it’s could be a Bonny and close type vibe or taking y/n virginity for a bet

ooof taking y/n's virginity for a bet sounds ruthless. i'd read the shit out of that fic 🤭 i don't know this song (i'm assuming that's what it is) so idk what to do about it, buuuuut maybe someone out there has an idea?

#as a slut for angst #i’m interested

[alldayangst]

HALSEY Photographed for the Magnum Campaign: True To Pleasure (July 2020)

#halsey #PoC women

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #lolbrosgetsicktoo

[alldayangst]

I hope black girls with depression have a good day today.

[alldayangst]

This fic had me wondering why I’ve ever bothered to write anything in my life. I think I need to lie down. This piece is so, so beautiful that it hurts (in the best way). I went through the motions reading this, I felt sorry for Harry and Y/N all at the same time but it was genuinely written so well that it could have ended with them together or not and I’d be happy.

The ending is absolutely bone crushing because Harry and Y/N are both being selfish in a way. I’m glad that they can reach a compromise in a way and adore the fact it ends bittersweet. Bravo, this was gorgeous and a treat to read as someone who lives and breathes angst.

At the Door

Summary: Harry proposes, and Y/N says no.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader, Harry Styles x Y/N

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Depression, rejection, not eating, crying, panicking? feelings of anxiety, swearing. lmk if theres any others.

A/N: meet me in the hallway vibes ! this is rushed sorry but its also like an 18 minute read and 11 pages so

It’d been a few hours, but she couldn’t remember much. Only his pleading eyes, nervous smile and the way her heart beat erratically in her chest, taking the air out of her lungs. She remembers how she couldn’t stop shaking, how her legs felt like they were going to give out from beneath her, and the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. They weren’t happy tears, they weren’t tears of excitement like she’d always imagined would flood her eyes. And most importantly, she remembers his words, that hadn’t stopped echoing through her head as she sat alone in the bedroom of their villa. 

Will you marry me?

Thank God no one else was there, and he’d done it in the privacy of their home. Out by the pool, and overlooking the sea and the Amalfi Coast. It was any girls dream, stepping out into a sea of candles, and meeting a golden sunset. 

He’d told her to dress nice, and she hadn’t thought much of it considering at-home dates weren’t something that was out of the norm for them. So, she rummaged through her suitcase for her prettiest sundress, meeting him downstairs where he too, was dressed nice. Having thrown on a cream blazer, and pants that ironically reminded her of the ones he’d worn during his shoot for Golden a couple of years back. Curls tamed and styled to his best ability without the help of his stylist, and a white button down that he shouldn’t have worn at all, considering a good amount of the buttons were left undone. 

“Look at you.” She’d swooned, taking the hand he’d extended. The grin on his face was so large, beaming and now as she plays it back, she can’t believe she’d missed it. The obvious bulge in the pocket of his blazer.

Keep reading

#hs: fic rec #FUCK.

[alldayangst]

Thank you for mentioning A Free World! 💞

divorce

Always (series) @kind-heart

y/n is striving to save her marriage after harry asks her for a divorce. 

Divorce AU Series @ouronlyangelhes

They said marriage was tough, you just didn’t realize how tough it could be.

This Love Part 2 @severstyless

In which you and Harry are getting divorced but things get complicated. 

Thick and Thin @theonewiththefanfics

He never thought his wife would ever even think about divorce. They had problems, which is why they were at marriage counselling. But he never knew her heart had broken a long time ago. And he’d been the one to break it before they even got together.

Arrogant Son of a Bitch Hurt You Just Before You Go @harry-writings

The one where Harry and Y/n are separated, but Harry gets jealous when he sees Y/n getting ready for a date with another man

A Small Phone Call (the whole series is in their masterlist!) @twohearts-hs

They’ve been together since fifteen; her going through every moment with him, and likewise. It has always been (Y/N) and Harry, since the beginning of time. But, they started noticing the red flags that the saying is true, all high school love doesn’t stick. Therefore it is time to sign the papers, but what will happen when she is afraid of a simple two pink-lined stick? What will happen to them? What if she keeps it hidden from him? 

A Devious Act (the whole series is in their masterlist!)

Divorce. It can mean a lot of things, freedom, a new start and forgetting. Or, it can be evil, regrettable, and lost. He did something secretive, and hurtful. He did something devious. And who is to pay? Her? Him? or their family? 

A Free World? @alldayangst

In which Harry and reader live together for a short time after the divorce.

No babies, please Part 2 @blackmilkshake

Let’s just imagine that Harry doesn’t want kids in his life (even when we all know he loves kids) and you get pregnant.

Divorce Series Part 2 Part 3 @0nlythrowharrybeaux

In which after several years of marriage & 2 kids, Harry & Y/N are getting divorced.

This Is Me You’re Talking To @heart-attack-harry

You and Harry are divorced.

You Would Know If You Stayed @sapphireharrie

the one where harry and y/n meet again 11 months after their divorce.

[alldayangst]

LOCKSLEY HALL

Summary: Tom doesn’t know quite how it happens, but one moment he’s working as the gardener at Locksley hall, and the next he’s run off to marry the lords daughter, a girl he hates. Set in England, 1920.

Themes: Fake marriage (sort of), bickering about literature, enemies to lovers, childhood friends who grew apart. Period drama. Smut (+18)

in progress

MERCY

Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You are at the wrong place at the wrong time.  

Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.

Warnings:  This story will contain themes such as kidnapping, murder, violence and smut. Also a lot of swearing. Also mentions of injuries. Also contains alcohol, smoking and mentions of drugs. PLEASE DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU’RE +18  

in progress

BARTENDER

Summary: Tom is the owner of a struggling pub he keeps with his brothers and his best friend. You are a famous singer who’s down on her luck and who frequently bother the very attractive bartender instead of working on new music.

Themes: Bartender!Tom. Sort of frienemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual attraction but they are both too dumb to realise. General dumbness all around. Idiots in love. Lots of banter. Smut. +18

HOLLAND DETECTIVE AGENCY

Summary: When Tom’s grandfather passes away, he inherits an office in the middle of a buzzing London. He has no idea what to do with it.The year is 1947 and Tom is restless after the war. After a chance meeting with his old comrade Harrison and a drunken lunch at the local pub they decide to open up a detective agency. After finding you huddled up in a library while chasing an unwilling witness Tom decides to hire you as the agency’s secretary. You, reluctantly, take up the offer from the charming stranger.

Themes: Private detective!Tom and Haz. Period piece. In love with your boss. Raymond Chandler inspired. Action packed.

in progress

O n e   S h o t s

HELP

Summary: You’ve been suffering from panic attacks and anxiety, trying to keep it secret from your boyfriend.

HONEY

Summery: Some months after the breakup you show up at Tom’s doorstep.

Themes: Ex lovers reunited. A bit of angst. Smut. (+18)

PLAY

Summery: Tom finds your vibrator and well…  

Themes: Smut. Just pure smut. (+18)

We’ll always have Paris

Summary: At the Oscars you meet your old boyfriend, reminiscing ensues.

Money, Power, Glory

Summary: Tom is the king of England, and you are a princess of France. To end a long war an arranged marriage is set between you. However, you don’t turn out to be the wife he’d imagined.

Themes: Arranged marriage, king!Tom AU, period drama (16th century England), hate/love relationship. Smut (+18)

I know the end

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave.

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. Smut (+18)

support me on ko-fi

#th: fic rec #my eyes aren’t worthy #how is this free?

[alldayangst]

picture perfect (h.o.)

Masterlist | Buy me a ko-fi?

summary: Bored and lonely while filming out town, Harrison starts sexting with a mysterious girl he met on social media. As their relationship grows, will they grow along as they go?

word count: 11.2k (!)

warnings: shameless flirting, mutual pining, fluff, idiots to lovers, dumb pop culture references, cameo from our gang, smut!, dirty talk, sexting, phone sex, light d/s dynamics, oral, spit play, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, all the good stuff

notes: FINALLY! it's been a long time coming, and big ups to @tommysparker for being so patient and providing bomb-ass second opinions. i hope you enjoy it! happy reading!

***

Snap, snap, snap.

The clicks of the camera are drowning in Purple Rain droning on the vinyl. In her black bustier top and blue lace thong, she strikes suggestive poses in her bed, the lavender beddings and warm string lights a soft background to an otherwise striking focus. She arches her back and angles her torso just right, sitting on her knees with her thighs spread. Bit by bit, she pushes the straps off of her shoulders and fondles her breasts, yanking down her bra until they spill out. Selfie button in hand, putting on a show for no one.

It’s Y/N’s new favorite pastime, taking smoking hot pictures of herself to put up on her naughty little blog. Completely anonymous, of course, with her face always conveniently cropped out. It started out as a self love project, an appreciation for her curvy form. But as time went on, her posts began to gain more traction, and honestly, who is she to deny free compliments and ego boost from complete strangers?

The likes and the comments start filing in, from the harmless ones like 'goddess! beautiful!' to the more aggressive ones describing what they want to do to her in graphic detail. One comment in particular catches her eye.

blue--moon commented: pardon my french, but WOW 😳

It's definitely someone new. She gets a like, comment, and a follow in that exact order. Naturally, she pulls up the profile to see what this person's about.

He/him. 24. Just looking.

His display picture is a pair of hands. Strong, veiny, beautiful hands with a metal ring on his middle finger holding the phone up for a selfie. And with a cropped selfie of lean, muscular, eight-pack abs (and yes, she counted), captioned ‘im hungry and dehydrated af in this pic but the things we do for validation amirite’, Y/N couldn’t resist shooting him a DM.

She's bored and lonely and a little shameless flirting with some random self-aware hottie sounds like fun.

Little does she know, the boy on the other end is just as bored and lonely and jerking off to some pretty girl’s tasteful nudes sounds like a nice way to end the evening. Purplish red lips caught between her teeth, tits bursting out of bra, wet patch visible on her practically sheer panties… how could he resist?

Harrison was just about to sneak his hand down his sweatpants when a DM notification pops up on top of his screen.

violetformyfurs: that’s a pretty proper comment for such an improper pic

He nearly drops his phone onto his face. He’d grown very familiar with that username in the last 5 minutes-- or rather what that username presented as her online persona. Witty, alluring, a little mischievous. It’s easy to let his imaginations run wild, but when she’s actually there to talk to, Harrison’s not quite sure what to do.

blue--moon: was that too prudish? i didn’t wanna be rude 🙈

Y/N smiles at his reply, his earnestness somewhat refreshing although she can't help wonder how genuine he is. There's plenty of fake nice guys online, after all. So she settles against her headboard and braces herself to test the waters.

violetformyfurs: I think it's cute. I like a good boy every now and then :)

Harrison's heart skips a beat. He's never really been called that before --never even thought about whether he likes it. But there's something about this girl that captures his curiosity...

blue--moon: oh? what makes you think im a good boy?

violetformyfurs: Idk just a guess lol

violetformyfurs: Could be wrong tho. You could be a bad boy, for all I know...

Harrison is freaking the fuck out. He's pretty new to this side of social media and he's never sexted with anyone on here. A part of him wants to go the suave route and be super charming, but he's not sure he can pull it off. What if he makes a complete fool of himself? In his panic, he goes for the more evasive response. Maybe a little emoji to make him sound less aloof.

blue--moon: and what if I am? 😈

violetformyfurs: Then you would be a different kind of fun, that’s all.

No hesitation, no pause. She replies within mere seconds of his message being sent. With that, his cock stirs awake faster than his brain can muster a vivid image of this girl claiming him as her dirty plaything. Toying with his release as she teases his cock in her mouth, between her tits, in her pussy…

blue--moon: shittt

blue--moon: i mean, pardon my french but

blue--moon: that does sound like fun

The devilish smirk on Y/N’s face grows wider. She loves sending boys into a flustered, incoherent mess. She can’t quite picture a face, but she can definitely imagine the quickening of his heartbeat, the red flush on his chest, the rising heat under his skin… it makes her quite hot and bothered.

violetformyfurs: What are you up to now?

It’s the oldest line in the art of sexting, and she is almost disappointed in herself for pulling such a fuckboyish move.

(Almost. She's still trying to read this guy, and she's not about to bring out the big guns for nothing.)

blue--moon: do you want the savoury or unsavoury answer?

violetformyfurs: Try me.

blue--moon: im looking at your pics

blue--moon: which are

blue--moon: wow, as I said so eloquently in french 😜

violetformyfurs: Lol thank you

violetformyfurs: I take it that's the savoury answer?

blue--moon: yep

violetformyfurs: So what’s the unsavoury answer?

Harrison pauses. He thinks long and hard, before he ultimately decides to not overthink it. He's no Casanova and the pretense will only bite him in the ass, so his best bet is to just... say what’s on his mind.

blue--moon: my unsavoury answer is that im looking at your pics

blue--moon: hand down my pants

blue--moon: thinkin abt all the ways i’d let you ruin me

And that’s when the pin drops. It feels like an out-of-body experience for him. It seems like the sensation on his cock goes straight to his fingers and he didn’t realize what he wrote until he’d already sent it. For a hot second, he thinks he’s royally fucked it up. She would tell him to go fuck himself or straight up block him.

Harrison puts his phone screen on lock, resting it on his forehead like a dumbass that he is.

And then his screen lights up again.

To be quite frank, she’s every bit as surprised and curious as he is. Most guys either maintain their bravado by saying shit that makes them sound manly and cool, or be too thirsty for her own liking. Either way, it turns her off.

But every once in a blue moon, someone would say it just right that it would pique her genuine interest. She’s not sure if it’s his words, his pictures, or just her, but she finds herself typing back three words to him. And those three words are more than enough to fuel him on.

violetformyfurs: tell me more.

blue--moon: i keep picturing you as a huge tease

blue--moon: playing with my cock and sitting on it and cumming on it

blue--moon: but you won't let me cum

violetformyfurs: bold of you to assume I'd touch your cock at all before you earn it ;)

Harrison swallows. Somehow the idea excites him more than any fantasy he'd had of her before. He loves a girl who gives him a hard time, and right now, he's having a hard time alright.

He reaches for his hard-on and starts absently stroking it, eager for her next message.

blue--moon: oh? tell me more

violetformyfurs: Well first, I gotta leave my marks all over your pretty neck

violetformyfurs: Little lipstick stains and love bites

violetformyfurs: Trail down your chest to your hip bone

violetformyfurs: And then come right back up and ride your face so you can show me how you earn it :)

He picks up his pace, letting his pre-cum slick his motion. But he pictures her in her bed, anticipating his response, and he doesn’t wanna let her down and finish so early. He wanted to show her he's worth her time.

blue--moon: fuck yes

blue--moon: i wanna taste you through your panties

blue--moon: pull it aside and eat you out real sloppy

blue--moon: let you ride my fingers too

violetformyfurs: Mm fuck yeah, you have nice hands too

blue--moon: they’re all yours

Y/N couldn't resist going back to his profile picture. All veiny forearms and slender fingers. And that ring… She slides two fingers inside her and pretends it's his, working her open, stroking for her pleasure. She likes to think he gets off on it, too.

violetformyfurs: Fuck yeah. Want you to make me cum all over you

violetformyfurs: And maybe if you're good, I'll put my mouth on your cock.

violetformyfurs: Lick the precum off of the tip of your cock, and then taking you deep down my throat

violetformyfurs: And I can go pretty deep too ;)

Harrison curses out loud. Oh, if she could only see him, pumping his hand around his dick faster, wishing it was her sweet mouth bringing him closer to the edge. And who knows, maybe she's out there, touching herself with the thought of him, too…

(She totally is. Panties hooked on an ankle and hips bucking up from her bed, she indulges herself with the idea of choking on this pretty boy’s cock.)

blue--moon: fuckin hell

blue--moon: please please please suck my cock

blue--moon: wanna cum in your mouth while im smothered in your wet pussy

violetformyfurs: Greedy 😏

blue--moon: can you blame me

violetformyfurs: Haha fair

blue--moon: god i bet you taste good

blue--moon: bet you feel so fucking good too

violetformyfurs: Mm, maybe I oughta ride your big hard cock too

violetformyfurs: Bounce on it hard and fast

violetformyfurs: Or maybe I should just.. sit there and play with my clit and clench around you?

blue--moon: ffffuuuuck

violetformyfurs: Which one will it be, baby?

blue--moon: whichever way you'll have me goddd

blue--moon: just wanna cum inside you

violetformyfurs: Beg for it.

She slows down her motions and her breaths, fingertips barely ghosting over her wet and swollen nub. Gosh, she's so fucking close; she just need a little more nudge.

blue--moon: please

blue--moon: wanna feel your little pussy squeeze the cum outta my cock

blue--moon: grippin me so tight

violetformyfurs: You close?

blue--moon: very

violetformyfurs: You wanna fill my pussy with your cum, watch it run down my thighs?

blue--moon: fuuuck yes please

violetformyfurs: Go on, then. Cum for me, baby

blue--moon: fckkkk

Harrison could barely send that last message before he falls apart all over his stomach, pent-up release painted on strong muscles contracting in waves of ecstasy. Chest rising and falling in exertion.

And she pictures the most beautiful sight under her, coming undone as she lets go, clenching around nothing although it feels like one of her best orgasms in a while.

blue--moon: holy shit

blue--moon: made a whole mess outta me

violetformyfurs: Can I see?

blue--moon: you sure?

violetformyfurs: Yeah.

Y/N bites her lower lip in anticipation. She's not usually one for boys' nudes (a lot of them don't know how to take good pictures), but orgasm has been had and either way, she has nothing to lose.

To her surprise, though, he doesn't send her a crude dick pic with horrible lighting. Instead, she gets a picture of his cock, thick and veiny like his arms, resting on toned abs bathed in soft golden light, splattered in his own cum, and she finds her pussy throbbing at the sight.

violetformyfurs: Wow 😳

violetformyfurs: I mean, pardon my French

blue--moon: lol thank you 🙈

violetformyfurs: That was fun haha

blue--moon: it really was… deffo wasn't expecting my evening to go this way lol

violetformyfurs: What, having a wank sesh with some random girl online?

blue--moon: or thinking abt a wank sesh while looking at this girl's pics and then suddenly she dms you out of the blue

violetformyfurs: 😂😂 call me psychic

blue--moon: imma call you magic

violetformyfurs: Haha, call me Violet.

Harrison taps his screen, typing up his response and deleting it again. He ponders whether he should give her his real name-- part of him really wants to. But then again, thirsty social media is a fickle thing and he would hate to get into trouble for lurking about in this lewd little corner. So instead, he decides up with something equally witty.

blue--moon: nice to meet you violet. im blue 😉

***

Morning shoots are the worst, and the only saving grace for Harrison is the coffee in his right hand. He occasionally joins the conversation with his co-stars Thaddea and Jojo on either side, but mostly he just scrolls through his Instagram mindlessly.

Well.

Until a notification pops up on the top of his screen.

violetformyfurs posted a new picture: Rise and shine 🌻💙

He immediately puts his phone down on his lap, trying to discreetly open it, even though his friends are not even two feet away from him.

And there she is. Her arm holding up the breasts he so wants to mark and devour. Her skin adorned with the morning dew of the shower, glowing from the sun streaming in from the window on her right.

He notices the blue heart emoji on the caption, and he can't help thinking this is her subtle way of calling out to him, hoping to get his attention.

(And of course, Harrison's only a man. His attention was caught very easily this way.)

Y/N’s phone buzzes in her jacket pocket as she walks to her morning class. And when she sees his username on her notification bubble, she picks it up immediately, thinking, hook, line, and sinker, despite the genuine butterflies in her stomach.

blue--moon: good morning indeed 👀

violetformyfurs: Never pegged you for an early riser.

blue--moon: im really not, but you're a sight for sore sleepy eyes

violetformyfurs: I would say the same about you, but...

blue--moon: im sorry darling, im already dressed for work 🙁

violetformyfurs: And what are you wearing?

She wants to kick herself for being so forward, but at the same time, she can’t help it. She can see him getting flustered wherever he is, knowing where this conversation is going. And God, she loves it.

blue--moon: a full victorian era suit

violetformyfurs: Ooh, tres sexy

He's not sure what gave it away; the quiet laugh or the goofy grin on his face, but his friends both turn to him at the same time. Curious and mischievous at the same time.

"What is it?" Darci pries, craning her neck to look at Harrison's phone.

He quickly closes the app and locks it. "It's nothing."

"I think the question should be who is it." Thaddea shoots him a knowing look, and he knows there's no escaping this girl's sharp eyes.

So he just answers dubiously, “Some girl.” he playfully shoves Darci’s arm away so he can get back to his message.

blue--moon: haha sure 🙄

violetformyfurs: Well, the more layers to peel off, the more fun, right?

blue--moon: idk your little bday suit looks pretty fun too

violetformyfurs: How so, my lord?

Harrison loves how sharp-witted she is. He pictures her, curious, head tilted to the side, calling him ‘my lord’ with a smirk. Eyeing him up and down, undressing him with her eyes. He somehow feels more naked in his suit and big blue coat than she is in absolutely nothing.

blue--moon: so i can kiss you and taste you and fuck you whenever and wherever

It’s short and simple and straightforward, and it sends Y/N clenching her thighs in anticipation. She likes the idea of this boy pulling her in and pleasuring her all hours of the day --bent over the desk, against the sink, laid out on the couch, in the shower…

“We’re ready on set for you guys,” a PA comes over to inform them, and Harrison fights the urge to groan like a child as he follows his friends out.

blue--moon: ah shit, duty calls

blue--moon: talk to you in a bit?

violetformyfurs: Try not to think of me in my birthday suit too much, Blue ;)

blue--moon: impossible 😜

He means it. It’s cold and muddy where he is, and all he could think of is this girl wearing his blue coat costume, nothing else underneath. God, what he wouldn’t give to dive under the material and get on his knees before her…

And unbeknownst to him, it is just as impossible for her to not daydream any further about this boy. She’s not sure whether his line about a Victorian suit is true or not. If it isn’t, that means he has a sense of humor. Y/N appreciates that-- maybe more than the nudes and the sexting.

If it is, well… she likes the idea of his muscular chest clad in one of those puffy white shirts, a la Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.

He finally texts back late in the afternoon during her presentation for her Emotional and Conflict Resolution class, and she couldn’t rush through her conclusion fast enough. For a miraculous second, her priority for a perfect score takes a backseat to the possibility of a text from some random dude she met online last night.

Christ, what a simp.

“Thank you very much, Ms. Y/L/N, for a very insightful presentation. Next week, we will be delving into children’s literature…” she tunes out the voice of Professor Getty as she packs up her laptop and gets the hell out of the lecture hall.

She pulls out her phone out of her pocket and bites back a smile at the notification on top of her screen. At least her fumbling earlier wasn’t all for naught.

blue--moon posted a new picture: hope you’re having a wonderful day 💜

But it’s not the well wish that makes her heart skip a beat. Or the little purple heart to signify that the message is intended for ‘Violet.’ It’s the picture attached to it; the frilly low-collared white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows…

A signet ring on his finger, gold glistening against his onyx phone case and marble skin.

violetformyfurs: I was gonna say something about your choice of wardrobe

violetformyfurs: But I’m just a tiny bit distracted by your hand.

blue--moon: like what you see? 😏

violetformyfurs: It’s alright...

blue--moon: i seem to recall you wanting to ride my fingers last night 👀

violetformyfurs: I did.

violetformyfurs: I do

violetformyfurs: That signet ring hits different, just saying

blue--moon: really?

violetformyfurs: Yep. Wonder how much better it looks, drenched in my juices

blue--moon: funny bc i was deffo thinking abt fingering you with it all day

violetformyfurs: It would be my pleasure, my lord.

blue--moon: and mine, milady.

“Harrison Jarrison Osterfield!” Jojo all but screeches into his right ear from the backseat of the car.

Harrison, of course, not realizing he'd been snooping, drops his phone in surprise and squawks, “For fuck’s sake, man!”

“You randy little fucker!” Jojo cackles almost maniacally, pulling McKell into it. “Bro, he’s getting steamy with a girl over text!”

“For real? Wahey!” McKell exclaims as he slaps Harrison playfully on the arm. “Let’s see her, then. Is she hot?”

“Oh, my God. Fucking hell, shut up!” Harrison groans, covering his beet red face in his hands. “I can’t fucking believe this…”

“Who knew, eh?”

“Our golden boy turns out to be a nasty little fella after all!”

The golden boy in question picks up his phone off of the car floor mat, and groans once more when he sees what he’d sent her accidentally. And her response that follows.

blue--moon: sldkf[;

violetformyfurs: ...What’s that supposed to mean?

blue--moon: shit! sorry

blue--moon: dropped my phone. my asshole friends being nosy.

violetformyfurs: 😂

violetformyfurs: I’m about to get on the tube anyway. talk to you when i get home?

blue--moon: sure. wouldn’t want some rando read our naughty texts over your shoulder, right? lol

violetformyfurs: Please. We both know You’re the naughty one between us, darling ;)

The blood rushes right down his cock as the memories of her come flooding in. Hell yes, he's willing to be the naughty one for her. So he endures all the teasing and takes all the piss his friends are giving throughout the car ride to their complex. He ignores the shit-eating grins they throw each other when he turns down their offer to hang out and play FIFA at McKell’s.

“I love you guys,” Harrison starts as he walks up to his door, “But you’re massive dicks. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He enters his building with his two friends egging him on and humping a flagpole, mimicking the bass line of some sexy club music. For a moment carried away with the amusement and excitement of falling for someone new. For a second forgetting the fact that they’re just personas, tiny glimpses of themselves through the filter of social media.

There’s no new messages from her, and Harrison eventually decides to put down his phone to go shower. He notes the tent he’s pitching underneath his trousers, but decides not to do anything about it. Why jerk off to her, when he can jerk off with her at the same time? He knows his imagination is nothing compared to her and her unbelievable way with words.

And as time proves it, her message awaits him when he gets out of the shower, a gleaming little ray of light among bleak system updates and ad alerts. Bold and witty and somehow quite… romantic.

violetformyfurs: Honey, I’m home!

blue--moon: hey! feel like talking on the phone?

Harrison might as well just shoots himself in the foot. This is way too intimate at this stage. They just met last night, for God's sake, and not even in person! What was he thinking? If she hadn't ghosted him then, she sure will now--

violetformyfurs is inviting you to a voice call.

He freaks out all the same, although for a completely different reason now. He won’t have time to edit what he’s gonna say before he says it. What if he says the wrong thing? What if he sounds weird? What if she sounds weird? Oh God--

"Hi,” he greets her, friendly and even, trying his best to hide his nerves.

"Hey, stranger." There's a smile in her voice. Quiet, but warm nonetheless, and Harrison relaxes a bit.

"Hi," he replies, kicking himself over how stupid he sounds for saying hello twice, sitting himself down on the couch. Just go with the flow, he reminds himself. "Whatcha up to?"

"Eh, just lazing around in the bath, getting wine tipsy..." she sighs, water gently flowing in the background. "Treating myself."

His eyebrows rise, intrigued. "What's the occasion?"

"Psychology presentation well done, which-- you, sir, nearly cost me my grade."

"What did I do?!"

"You sent me that fucking text in the middle of my talk! Distracted me. Made me trip over my words,” she grumbles.

“Aw, I’m sorry…” he grins, not at all sorry that he makes her just as flustered as he is. “What was the presentation about?”

“The Horror of Grief in The Haunting of Hill House.”

“You did a study on Hill House?” Harrison feels the butterflies and fireflies in his stomach. There’s something very attractive about a hot girl who’s also a nerd. “Oh, I love that show!”

“It’s amazing, right?” she gushes back.

“I’m pretty sure I binged it all in one go,” he laughs, quiet and warm. “So what’s your, uh… hypothesis? Is that what it’s called? I don’t know, I’m not really an academic person.”

Y/N finds herself giggling-- thanking God she’s not the only one nervous. “Horror shows aren’t only a safe space to experience horror or thrill anymore. Hill House explores the reasons behind these horrors, the grief and the trauma, which makes it very… reflective for us as the audience.”

“So, no matter how scary the ghosts or the monsters are, it’s still a very human experience,” Harrison concludes thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

There’s a brief lull between them, but they don’t mind it much. For a moment, it feels like a mundane conversation they’ve had a million times before-- going about their day, their favorite show, the little things they nerd about… I could get used to this, Y/N briefly muses.

“I’m actually doing something that has to do with horror and grief, too,” he pipes up, and Y/N secretly wishes she could curl up into his chest as they chat.

“Really?”

“It’s a… series, too…” he toys with the tassel of a throw pillow, “Hence the Victorian suit.”

“Are you an actor, then?”

He sighs. Being an actor is always awkward, people would ask if they’ve seen him in anything or ask whether he’s famous-- because he’s really not, he’s just starting out. It’s even more awkward when the whole relationship relies on anonymity.

“Kind of. All I do is wear these stupid costumes and fuck around with my friends, really.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t call that costume stupid…”

“Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Hell yeah. The shirt? The ring?” Y/N throws her head back and moans for dramatic effect.

And with that, Harrison is gone and Little Harrison stirs in attention. “Don’t-- don’t do that.”

“What did I do?!” she parrots what he said earlier.

“Make those… obscene sounds.”

She scoffs playfully. “I’m sorry, is doing a period drama turning you into a prude?”

“Fuck you,” he laughs, fighting the blush creeping up his cheeks even though she can’t see it.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Check and fucking mate. She’s so much smarter than him and it turns him on more than he ever knows. “Well, yeah,” he bashfully admits.

She hums, light and airy, bringing the conversation to another lull. But the silence feels heavy this time. The silence of two people who are wildly attracted to each other, hearing each other’s voice for the first time.

Wanting oh so much to be together that they don’t know where to begin.

“What are you up to?” he asks again. But his voice is deeper, lower this time, and she knows exactly where he’s going.

“Told you, I’m treating myself. Bath, wine…” she purrs, playing it cool, “Orgasms.”

He swallows. “Are you touching yourself?”

She slides her hand between her legs, indulging in the shock of her fingertip meeting her clit. She’d been denying herself on any touch, and now she can let out a breathy sigh of relief. “What do you think?”

“Fuck--” he palms himself through his sweatpants, relishing in the sound of her voice. “Are you... thinking of me touching you?”

Y/N’s finger drags lower, running back and forth along her nether lips. “Mm-hm. Thinking of your nice, long fingers teasing me and stretching me open…”

“Do it then.” the words fall out of his mouth all too easily. “Tease yourself ‘til you’re nice and slippery, and slide a finger in for me.”

He hears labored breaths on the other end, and he honestly thought she’s gonna cave. And what a stupid assumption he made.

“Just one?”

Two words. That’s all it takes to get his cock straining underneath his boxers.

"One," he starts out, "...and then another."

Two fingers. She is truly an impatient thing, and so buries them inside at once and curls them in a way that makes her squirm. Y/N's breath hitches as her fingers thrust in, smaller than the one she wanted, but gives her the pleasant ache nevertheless. She lets out a low moan as she caresses that spot inside her.

"That's it, baby. Just like that…"

She doesn’t usually like pet names, but the way he calls her in his sweet, boyish voice drives her mad. She wouldn’t mind having it whispered in her ear as he holds her against his chest and fingers her.

"I don't think my hand can compare to yours, but--" Her moans echo in the bathroom tiles, and it sounds more angelic than any choir Harrison has ever heard in any grand cathedral.

“You sound so good, fuck…” Harrison shifts as he frees his stubborn cock. The irony of allowing himself some release by tightening his fist around his length is completely lost on him.

The corner of Y/N’s mouth pulls up into a half-smile as she hears a low, strained moan on the other end. “Are you touching yourself?”

“...Yeah?” the answer is painfully obvious, and yet Harrison blushes anyway.

She chuckles, low and lazy, and lets it die down into a sigh. “Wish you were here. I could use you to stretch me open and fuck me hard.”

Harrison groans at the sound of her sweet whine. “Fuck yes use me,” he rambles on, drunk from desire.

“Want you to pound into me while I kiss and bite your neck, you wanna know why?”

“Hm?”

Y/N shuts her eyes to regain some composure. She doesn’t wanna waver in the face of her subject after all. “So you’d remember how good you are to me.”

“Fuck, 'm so close...” he breathes, clenching his fist like he imagines her pussy would. His strokes grow more erratic, as if moving in syncopation with her moans and her movement.

It takes her everything to hold out and say, "Come with me, baby,” before the familiar warm tingle rushes through her veins and desperate moans crash through the line.

For a moment, there’s only light rustles of fabric and quiet sloshes of water on the line. Little noises that bring these strangers closer with every heartbeat, every breath taken in harmony. Somehow, somewhere in different corners of the world, two strangers find themselves tied a little closer together. Intimately close and safely distant at the same time.

Y/N eventually caves in breaking the silence. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I could say the same about you," he retorts. "God, I feel like I need to take another… cold shower."

"Maybe you should," she giggles. "We'll catch up later."

"Right." He tries to hide the sliver of disappointment, but reminds himself that this may not be their last conversation. "Talk to you... soon?"

She bids him farewell and it's like the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. The soft ding of his notification sounds so crass compared to her. The content, however, brings a smile to his face.

A new post from his mystery girl, covered in bubbles, wine glass wrapped around her fingers. The picture is cut just above her smirking mouth.

violetformyfurs: Happy Friday from your favorite fancy bitch 🥂💦💙

***

Over the next six weeks, Y/N finds a fast companion in this mysterious guy called ‘Blue.’ The witty banters and flirty messages become a regular interaction. It’s an awfully convenient arrangement-- she is attracted to him enough to get off, but she doesn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of sleeping with someone new or face the possibility that he might be a bad lay in real life.

“I mean, I like to think I’m alright…” he said defensively about two weeks into their ‘acquaintance.’ “I’ve had zero complaints so far.”

“Show me the receipts then!” she challenged him jokingly.

He didn’t show her his Yelp page, of course. He did, however, control her Lush vibrator from his phone and teased the hell out of her until she lost count of her edges. It wasn’t until she threatened him through her teeth, “Let me fucking come or else,” that he finally relented and let her come three times over.

“Still think I’m bad in bed?”

She could hear the cocky smirk in his voice and she wants to wipe it off of him so badly. “Jury’s still out.”

“Wh-- How is that even-- that is ridiculous! Come on!” He all but squawked incredulously.

“I’m sorry! I still can’t objectively determine the proficiency of your mouth, fingers, and/or dick based on how you operate my Lush. That’s just not how this research should be conducted.” Y/N very consciously uses her ‘serious’ voice, although a light laughter trails behind.

“Alright, you nerd,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you pass, but only because it’s so fucking hot when you talk nerdy like that.”

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“Mm yeah, talk nerdy to me,” he moans in humor, although there’s a truth to it, too.

(In the end, they stayed on the line and made each other come one more time before calling it a night.)

What’s better-- or worse- is that Y/N enjoys his company, too. His blazing thirst traps and quippy jokes all at once. It pops up at random points of her days-- over breakfast, in the middle of class, on her tube ride home.

Like that time he sent her a very tasteful black-and-white dick pic-- one of the very few he sent her. His uncut cock stands erect, his fingers wrapped around the base of his thick girth. The veins on his wrist and the ones along his curving length make her salivate…

And before she could respond accordingly, he sent another version of that image, this time framed that infamous Nickelback meme, captioned ‘been wanting to expand on more artsy formats wdyt’

violetformyfurs: Thank you for canceling my thirst with the unsexiest reference ever.

blue--moon: how dare you, nickelback is sexy af

violetformyfurs: ...Seriously?

blue--moon: they just get a bad rep, ok?? their music is actually pretty good

blue--moon: heard it's a good aphrodisiac too 😏

violetformyfurs: Lmao says who?

blue--moon: says me??

violetformyfurs: Alright, Nickelstan 👀

blue--moon: ugh so judgy 🙄 imma prove you wrong

(He made her a sex playlist that night. She stubbornly skipped the damn song when she touched herself to it. Out of principle.)

Some nights they didn't even have anything to do with sex. Some nights he would talk her ear off about his day while she prepares herself dinner. Other nights, Y/N would be buzzed from double espresso, ranting about her assignment or the undergrads’ papers she’s grading while he tidied up his flat. And when neither of them could sleep, they would just lie around in their own beds and talk about nothing.

“Oh God, We're young and beautiful; we should be out celebrating life!" he groans as he stretches, head hanging upside down from the edge of the bed. “Instead we’re talking about how homemade Nando’s will never taste the same as real Nando’s.”

“I think you’re just a bad cook,” she pokes fun at him.

“Why don’t you be the judge of that?”

“Ha, right.” the laugh comes out easy until she notices the meaningful silence on the other end. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Maybe... we can, I don’t know, hang out once I’m back in London.”

And then there’s that. Little abstract plans with indefinite dates. Subtle reminders that that’s all they are-- strangers. They might know all the minute details about each other’s body and mind... And none of who they actually are.

Not even their face.

It’s an unspoken agreement between them: he’s an actor, she’s on track to be a university lecturer. Both of them would be in big trouble if this naughty little secret gets out. So they settle on picking up little tidbits about each other. Just to give the illusion that they know each other. That they’re less lonely than they actually are.

Until they don’t have to be.

“Wow. Huh...” she thinks hard to collect her thoughts. Granted, he’s never done anything to cause her distrust, but she still needs to be cautious… right? “Sure. I mean, we’ll see. You probably won’t be back in a while, right?”

“I’ll be done in about a week, give or take,” he replies nonchalantly --or so he tries to be.

One week of their acquaintance felt like forever. They went from strangers to sharing childhood trauma in less time. But one week until they meet each other face-to-face… it’s too brash, too soon. She’s not ready. Her stomach twists and the palm of her hand sweats and --

“We don’t have to meet, of course,” he quickly adds. “I was just throwing it out there.”

But her heart drops. The possibility of not meeting now hurts more now that they’ve been presented the opportunity to do so, and she realizes just how much she wants to.

Y/N scratches her head, frustrated with herself. “I would love to, I just-- I don’t know what to feel about it yet. Can we put a rain check on this?”

“Absolutely. Take your time. Ball’s in your park.”

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking idiot!

Harrison internally kicked himself as he felt Violet withdrawing from him in that conversation. She’s completely fair not to trust him; he has access to her nudes and for all she knows, he could be a weirdo. He would retract his statement altogether if he could, if only it weren’t too late.

She assured him she’s fine, but he purposely avoided any talks of meeting up since then. Consciously stopped himself from saying shit like ‘someday’ on things they would do together. He didn’t even tell her when he got back to London. He’s simply grateful that things are slowly going back to normal between them.

Conversation is easy that snowy morning. Fresh off his run, Harrison finds amusement in her grumpy, sleep-deprived texts as he waits in line at his local coffee shop.

violetformyfurs: Is it not enough to snow on the last day of the term?

violetformyfurs: Do I really have to wait in a long line for coffee, too?? God????

blue--moon: just got off my morning run. hello you ;)

violetformyfurs: How do people live like this

blue--moon: out of sheer willpower?

violetformyfurs: Oh go fuck yourself.

blue--moon: 😂 in your defense, some of us don’t have to burn through a million papers til 3am last night

violetformyfurs: Wow, I told you to go fuck yourself and you jumped to MY defense?

violetformyfurs: Guess chivalry isn’t dead after all

blue--moon: call me your knight in shining Nikes lol

“May I take your order, please?” a bored-looking guy behind the counter snaps him out of his reverie.

“Sorry! Uh, can I have a medium hot Americano, please?” he smiles apologetically to him.

“Sure. Name?”

“Harrison,” he answers and pays quickly, sauntering over to the pickup counter to avoid any further embarrassment.

He stands there gingerly, next to the girl who queued in front of him earlier. Pretty cute, all bundled up in a knitted scarf and glasses perched on her nose. Their eyes meet for a moment, and she briefly smiles at him-- well, as much a stranger would out of courtesy. Harrison barely smiles back when she looks back down on her phone, which he takes as a sign to return his attention to his.

violetformyfurs: Haha. You’re hilarious. I’m dying.

blue--moon: you’re mean, thats what you are 🙄

violetformyfurs: I will stop being mean once I get

violetformyfurs: My

violetformyfurs: Coffee!!! 😤

“Hot Americano, medium?” the barista announces.

Both Harrison and the girl reach for the paper cup at the same time. The latter stops just before their fingertips brush against each other and takes a double glance at his hand-- or where the labels are on the cup.

There’s a split second pause before she asks the barista, “Double shot espresso for Y/N?”

Harrison’s eyes go wide. He knows that voice. He’s familiar with its rambles and laughs and whines and moans. He looks at the girl, then at her phone, then at his, barely aware of the exchange happening before him. He hears her speak and he hears her name, and his mind just clicks.

“Ah yes, sorry. Here you go.” the man behind the counter huffs, handing to her and turning to get another cup. “Oh! Another hot Americano. Medium, single shot for… Harrison?”

“I believe that’s yours,” she pipes up, her eyes following him curiously.

“Right. Um. Thanks,” Harrison absently says to the barista. He doesn’t walk away, either. Instead, he turns to the girl, “I’m really sorry, are you--”

“I think you’re--”

“Wait.” she holds a finger up, takes a swig of her coffee like she’s bracing herself, presses a few buttons on her phone, and looks at him expectantly.

Harrison’s phone lights up in his hand and he shows her the screen: violetformyfurs is inviting you for a voice call.

“Fuck,” they both say in perfect unison.

The barista stares at them confused and unamused. He quickly moves onto the next customer, and they swiftly move away from the counter. Both of them feel like they’re floating just above the floor.

“Is this really happening? This isn’t just my sleepy-ass mind playing tricks, right?” she thinks out loud, eyes wide and blinking slowly in disbelief.

Harrison shakes his head, still dazed from it all.

“Wow-- it’s-- I--” her phone lights up in her hand and she barely glances at it before putting it on lock. “Shit, I have to go. My class.”

“Wait! Can I see you again?” he asks immediately, worrying he’s gonna lose his chance. Although now that he’s said it out loud, he’s also worried that she might get scared off. “Maybe after your classes or when you’re not--”

“Meet you back here at 3?” she cuts in, her voice quiet.

Harrison loses all words and just nods.

“Okay. It’s good to finally meet you… Harrison.” her eyes crinkle as she says his real name for the very first time, as if figuring out the taste in her mouth.

He repeats her name over and over as she walks away, heading out into the cold. Loudly in his head, soundlessly on the tip of his tongue. Matches the name to the rest of her that he pieced out, bit by little bit in the past six weeks. What little he noticed of her in their surprise encounter earlier.

It suits her.

***

Y/N keeps opening and closing the message thread between herself and her mystery guy. And when she’s not, the thought doesn’t leave her the whole day. All she wants to do is to say, “Can you believe that we ran into each other totally by accident?” to the very person she ran into.

Harrison.

Whom she recognized by his hand when he reached for her coffee. She knows the line on the back of his hand like the back of her hand. And when she looks at the owner of that hand, it clicks.

Her last class of the day couldn’t go fast enough. She’s only there to monitor the final exams, so she spends most of her 2 hours sitting there, waiting, thinking. The stack of her previous class' exams are ungraded and untouched. And before she leaves campus, she barely makes a beeline to the bathroom to apply some mascara and lipstick.

She arrives at the coffee shop early, hoping she'd get a few minutes to prepare herself for this meeting. Maybe she can even dip if she gets cold feet.

How stupid of her to think she'd get any more time than she'd already had the whole day.

Harrison conveniently sits on a corner table by the window, typing away on his laptop with his AirPods on. He looks so cozy in his knit turtleneck, glasses perched atop his nose. He spots her right away-- sitting facing the door, there's no way he would have missed her.

(He wouldn't have missed her with his back to her, he thinks. Not this time.)

Y/N awkwardly motions at the counter, and they exchange an awkward non-verbal exchange of 'I'll be there in a bit, I'm just gonna order some hot tea to calm the fuck down.' She tries to very discreetly fix her hair, which probably looks a mess from the wind and the tube ride.

"Hey!" Harrison beams, AirPods and laptop cleared and tucked away from the table.

Neither of them are sure where they're going. She goes in with one hand and he's already leaning forward, and they end up in a funny half hug/half handshake situation. As much as it embarrassed the hell out of them, it also gives them reason to laugh at themselves.

"This is… so strange.” Y/N grimaces as she takes her seat opposite him.

"I know, I've never really done this before." he chuckles, warmth rising on his cheeks as he settles back into his seat.

She’s trying to find something to say, but she gets caught off-guard by his eyes. She was much too distracted by the shock and the overall physical presence of him. But his clear-framed Wayfarers frame his handsome face, emphasizing his dazzling eyes.

Blue. Like his namesake.

“You have very pretty eyes,” he breaks the silence with a quiet observation.

She bites the inside of her cheek, chucks it right back at him. “I could say the same about you.”

“That was a cheap line, wasn’t it?” the pink tinge returns to his cheek, although it doesn’t feel like it ever went away. He laughs and she laughs along, but he means it. Her dark eyes are warm and comforting on this grey, icy day.

“Ah, well, I’ll give it a pass,” Y/N coolly looks out the window. Then she flashes a cheeky smile at him, “This time.”

And with her bright personality, it lights a fire deep within his stomach. God, he likes this girl.

“So how’s your last day of class?” he smoothly switches back to casual small talk. “Did Sleepy Joe come through?”

“Right, yeah!” she beams this time. “He came into class just in the nick of time, and I’m... pretty sure he answered most of the questions?”

“Wahey, well done!”

“I haven't graded it, but it looks okay! Like, it’s coherent so far."

"So far." he reminds her. "Who knows, man, maybe he fell asleep halfway through a sentence and started... doodling Shrek or something."

"You're a man with peculiar taste, you know that? Shrek and Nickelback and all that…” she muses, purposely leaving the part where she thinks it’s cute as fuck.

“Come on, you like ‘em, too,” he goads her through his coffee cup. “We both know you’re not always into--”

“Into what?” Her eyebrows shoot up challengingly.

“The deep, important stuff that reflects… you know, the society in the past or present. Or future.”

“You sound like Sleepy Joe trying to bullshit his way through my class.”

The little inside jokes seem to flow easily then, as if they’ve had this conversation numerous times. And in retrospect, they have. Spread over many afternoons, over copious cups of tea. Just always with hundreds of miles between each other. Never separated by a mere foot length of a coffee shop table. Elbows nearly bumping.

Hands well within reach as they catch up like old friends.

Or old lovers. They haven’t decided on that yet. If their knees touch under the table, or their hands accidentally brush as they grab their cups, they say nothing.

And before they know it, they talk and talk until the barista quietly (but pointedly) comes up to them to say the cafe’s closing up. Y/N eyes glints at the sheer amusement of this innocent bystander, and Harrison struggles to keep his laughter in.

“He’s not really a big fan, is he?” Harrison snickers as the guy returns to the back of the counter.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s ecstatic. He just witnessed a meet-cute that held up a long line in the morning and now these assholes are back, holding him up at the end of his shift.” she rolls her eyes playfully. “I’m sure he thinks we’re adorable.”

Truth be told, they are.

And truth be told, Harrison is not quite ready to go back to being by his singular self just yet. So as they walk out of the coffee shop and reach the curb, he musters up the courage to ask,

“So what’s the rest of your night look like?”

“Probably just make myself some dinner, have a drink…” Y/N gingerly scratches the back of her ear. “Join me?”

And there it goes. A simple, two-word question, and a look on her face-- so subtle yet so beyond words- that tells him maybe she enjoys his company, too.

"Lead the way," he offers his arm.

She takes his arm and huddles up closer as she shivers from the cold gust of wind. The layers of clothing a stark contrast to their usual state of undress in their pictures, the surprisingly wholesome conversation at the cafe, the quiet walk back to her flat… they’re not exactly what she expected.

But maybe it’s just what she needed.

"So I gotta ask," she starts, and he knows where this is going. "And I don’t mean this in a nosy, possessive kind of way, but-- why didn't you tell me you were back in town?”

Harrison contemplates an excuse. He could tell her he’d just arrived, or he’d come back early on a whim, or he was planning to visit his mother first anyway. But he doesn’t. “Well… I didn’t wanna make it weird between us. Didn’t wanna make you feel like-- I don’t know. Like I’m pressuring you to meet me, you know?”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she notes, and then coolly adds, “But honestly, I'm fine. If I feel like you’re pressuring me into anything, I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Of course.” he quietly smiles to himself, although he doubts it would ever come to that. He’d happily wrap himself around her little finger. So bold, so beautiful, so sure of herself.

Y/N catches his smile and finds herself doing the same, too. He looks at her like he’s perpetually in awe of her, and it makes her so fucking weak.

“And for what it’s worth… I’m glad we decided to meet up.” she puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I don’t think we had a choice the first time, technically.”

“Man, get out of here with your technicalities!” she jokingly shoves him away with her over-the-top John Mulaney impression, sending him laughing and stumbling on the slippery ground.

She leads him up to the second floor of her building, welcoming him into her humble one-bedroom flat. She half wishes she’d tidied up before she left this morning--she has empty mugs serving as paperweight for assignments she’s grading and her knit blanket balled up on one end of the couch because she couldn’t be bothered to fold it before heading to bed last night.

Not that it matters.

To him, the mess is as much a part of charm as the rest. He likes how her shelves have books stacked and lined up in no particular order that he recognizes, documents sticking out like white tongues and all. He likes how she uses a succulent as a bookend. He likes the Polaroid pictures and bills and reminders on the fridge, held up by colorful enamel magnets. It’s an extension of her that no amount of pictures or conversations can capture.

“So,” she pipes up as he studies the framed pictures and diplomas on the wall, making him slightly jump. “You gonna help me cook or what?”

***

Harrison makes himself useful by picking the music (No Nickelback, Y/N warns, and they settle on a more mutually liked Childish Gambino) and playing sous chef. And he’s a pretty good sous chef, too; sets up the ‘stations’ all neat and organized, chops up the vegetables without so much a chunk out of place, even though he’s rather careful about the amount of seasoning he puts in. He navigates the narrow space of Y/N’s kitchen well enough, hand instinctively landing on her lower back every time he slides past her and vice versa. Chattering away like it doesn't make their hearts skip a beat at that little touch. When the conversation dies down, they let the music fill the companionable silence.

Come dinner-time, they casually play footsie over flirty banters. He compliments her on her scrumptious cooking ("I'm simply using the spices your people colonized my people for," she side-eyes him in good nature.) He takes it as a challenge for when he cooks for her next time. And they go about it as if they're certain that there will be a next time.

And by the time they finish the bottle of wine, they're fully cuddling on the sofa, mildly tipsy and incredibly cozy. Shoes off and sock-clad feet up on the couch, Y/N folds her legs and leans them over Harrison's lap as she curls up on his chest, cheek smushed against his soft grey turtleneck. They're watching The Hobbit although the volume is low and they spend most of the time talking about something else.

"Isn't it funny how we basically put several dates together all in the span of one evening?" he chuckles. "We had coffee, dinner, drinks, Netflix…"

"Man, I don't even know where we're at anymore. I mean, you saw my tits before you even talked to me."

He hums lightly. "And what nice tits they are, too --pardon my French.”

She brushes him off, “Oh, please. Talk French to me any damn day, Harrison.”

He laughs, but says nothing else. When she looks up at him, she catches him deep in thought.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… funny to hear you say my real name.”

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘baby’ like we used to on the phone?”

Her words are playful, but the air swells around them in an instant. Suddenly the weeks and weeks worth of tension is very palpable. They instantly become very aware of how close their bodies are pressed together. His clear blue eyes darken, darting between her eyes, black as night and ridden with mischief. “Do I have to choose?”

She doesn’t miss his quick glance at her wine-kissed lips, and she quirks up a winning smirk. “Harrison, baby… You can have whatever you want.”

And just like that, they close the gap between their lips, neither knowing or caring who goes in first. Not a day goes by without them secretly picturing what kissing the other would feel like, and now that they’re there, as close as they can be, it’s like a sigh of relief. Talking to Harrison has always felt like a thrill, but in that moment, their words cease, fingers weaving into his brown curls, breaths syncing in, and Y/N feels… calm.

Well.

As calm as they can be, all enshrouded in warmth until the growing heat overwhelms them.

He wants more, more, more of her. The red wine is ten times sweeter on her tongue, and the faint smell of her clothes and her shampoo and her perfume just intoxicates him. And when she giggles at how he chases her kiss… God.

He murmurs something Y/N doesn’t quite hear.

“Hm?” she pulls away.

Harrison is quick to bury his pretty face in her neck, leaving a trail of soft little kisses to the back of her ear. Then, “However you want me, Y/N. I want it all.”

“Fuck…” she breathes out, pushing him back. Before he even computes, she pulls him up to his feet and leads him to her bedroom door.

Somehow the six-feet distance between her door and her bed feels like miles, and they’re tangled in the endless layers and layers of clothing to peel off. Harrison trips on his sweater and lands just at the edge of the bed. Y/N laughs at him until her own sweater gets stuck and he has to unceremoniously help her out of it. It's not perfect, but somehow it just makes it so.

The giggles turn into sighs as he undoes her shirt button one by one and replaces it with a trail of kisses down her chest. And the sighs turn into moans as his tongue and teeth get involved, marking and soothing her soft mounds. Leaving a wet patch on the sleek surface of the fabric, and a slick sheen on her smooth skin.

He gazes up at her in permission when his hand ventures up her back, right where the hooks are. She bucks up into him to let him do the honors. He undoes her bra in one swift movement of one hand, but then fumbles for a word at the sight of her bare-chested, spread-eagle like some obscene statue and he’s right there kneeling before her at the altar.

“Jesus fuck me,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, and he remembers the telling off he would get back in boarding school.

But far be it for Y/N to reprimand him for that. It’s ridiculous and nonsensical and completely honest. So she bites her lower lip in a discreet smile and remarks, “You like?”

“I love,” he sighs as he puts a pebbled bud in his mouth, one after the other, ingraining the feel of it on his tongue, on the pad of his thumb. The sound of her moans as he sucks and nips at it.

Y/N is completely shameless about reaching underneath her panties as she clenches for who knows how many times. The cotton is completely soaked through, but before she can indulge herself, his hand stops hers.

“No, let me,” Harrison all but whines, like a little boy threatened to get his toy taken away. His fingers hook onto the waistband possessively.

She lifts her hips, but slides slightly off of the bed anyway. He doesn’t seem to mind; his face is only closer to that spot between her legs after all. His hand trails a path from her ankle, along her calf, behind the back of her knee, up her inner thigh… over her glistening pussy.

He can’t believe she’s real.

He licks up her nether lips, slowly sinking into the folds. His tongue ebbs and flows on her clit and fuck if it doesn’t make her shiver. First gently, as if gauging her reaction, then sloppily. As if he can’t help himself. He’s ravenous and she’s allowed him to feast on her.

She is selfish in the indulgence of her pleasure. The moans that come out of her mouth shamelessly fill the room, probably seeping through the walls. Her nail-polished fingers tangled in his brown curls, keeping his head right where she wants her. She chases his mouth with her hips, curves arching and aching to be devoured. He takes and takes and takes, and she wants more, more, more.

"Harrison…" Y/N tugs at his hair a bit. "Your fingers."

And Harrison has heard this request a million times. Only this marks the first time he can actually give her what she wants.

He pulls away to see his middle finger trace the outline of her cunt, watching her clench around nothing at the slightest of the touch. He reaches her clit and rubs circles around it, pressing it gently to let out the beautiful breathy moans from her lips.

"Is there where you want me?" he teases her, a shit-eating grin hidden behind a bite on her thigh.

She groans in response. "You know exactly where I want you."

"I really don't," he replies matter-of-factly, puppy dog eyes staring up at her. "Maybe I need you to tell me."

She's so close to her orgasm, and yet she's inching further and further by the second. "Inside me, god-fucking-dammit!” she urges through her teeth, her grip on his hair sending him enough surge of delicious pain down his spine.

And sends him in line, too.

“You like that, baby?” Y/N pulls his hair back and watches his eyes shut closed in pleasure. “You gonna be good and fingerfuck me like I told you to?”

“Fuck yeah.” he breathes, licking up at her one more time, and in a split second of eye contact, he spits right on her sopping cunt before he sinks his middle finger into her.

Caressing her. One finger and then another.

And she swears she might just come right then and there. No toy, no fantasy could ever amount to this.

To him.

“Harrison…” she whimpers, not knowing whether to grind into his hand or grab a fistful of his hair to steady herself. In the end, she does both.

His motion picks up to an incredible pace, fingers switch rapidly between fucking her and rubbing her, moving so fast he's practically slapping her clit. It sets her body on fire, and she gladly goes down trembling and thrashing in her burn for him.

In her haze of orgasm, she barely registers Harrison crawling up over her, pressing light comforting kisses on her chest. But she needs air, and she seeks it in his kiss. Her own arousal on his mouth brings her back to life, and she laps at the remaining juices on his chin, before kissing him deeply, properly.

"Holy fuck," Y/N says between labored breaths. "You eat pussy like a porn star."

"Still think I'm a bad lay?" he smugly pokes fun at her.

"I never said you were! I'm just saying, statistically, there's a chance that you might be…" she pouts in protest.

"Sure. 'Statistically.'" he rolls his eyes sarcastically, prompting her to turn them both over so she's on top.

And God, what a sight he is, sprawled out in her bed like this. No amount of good angles and quality photographs can ever capture this moment so… authentically. The streetlight illuminates the gentle rise and fall of his chest through the window. In this close proximity, she can closely admire the slope of his nose and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His kiss-swollen lips turn upward in a smile, and Y/N doesn't even try to resist the urge to bring her own lips to his again.

There's no pretense in their kiss. The walls of courtesy are knocked down, and they bear no shame in their want anymore. She's been dying to explore him, and he's more than ready to give all of himself to her.

Y/N guides his arms over his head, drawing lines over the bumps and ridges of his lean muscles. She gently squeezes his wrists, and he's all too happy to oblige in keeping them in place.

"Excited, are we?" Her thigh brushes over the tent he's pitching, and she can't help but tease him.

He only blushes when she peels off his boxer briefs. She doesn't touch him there yet, of course-- she laves at his hip bone and inner thighs, avoiding his glorious hard-on. His lexicon seems to have left him when she makes her way down his abs. The only words that stay with him are praises in her name and curses to the beautiful agony.

"Y/N!" Harrison whines.

"Alright, alright…" she relents with a light laugh as she finally swallows his cock whole, all at once.

He feels his soul getting yanked out of his body as he hits the back of her throat the first time. Y/N takes a moment to even out her breath, but soon bobs her head up and down along his thick length.

Suddenly keeping himself in place isn't such a small feat anymore. He fists at the bedsheets to stop himself from grabbing her hair. But his hips buck up into her as if without his own accord, making her gag.

"Sorry! Sorry--"

"Eager, are we?" She smirks, glancing down at the precum leaking out of his purplish tip.

"I need to be inside you before I bust, I swear to God…" he sits and pulls her back up with him, her thighs straddling his.

"Can't help it. You taste so fucking good." Y/N chuckles, nuzzling his nose.

"Yeah? Show me."

Her stomach flips as she cups her face. It's a strangely tender moment in this otherwise obscene activity. He tilts back, letting the warm light wash over his features, and she briefly wonders if he's carved by the gods. Her thumb traces his lower lip, flesh instead of marble, and kisses him languidly. His cum and hers melding into one, tasting like absolute heaven. And before long, the thought of his cum and hers melding inside her takes over her mind until there’s absolutely nothing else.

She doesn’t even tease him. No. She lines his cock onto her entrance and bottoms out in one go. All words go out the window. Only breaths spelled out on each other’s mouth. Limbs tangled up as close as can be. Bodies overwhelmed with the delicious pain of being stretched out by his thick girth and blinding grip of her inner walls.

Almost all words.

Harrison whispers her name, kissing her wherever he can reach her. He doesn’t say it, but the words he said earlier echoes back in her head. However you want me, Y/N. I want it all.

And God, she wants it all.

She rides him hard and fast, and he meets her halfway on every thrust. They somehow find their pace in an off-beat rhythm, peppered with lips and hips colliding in the dirtiest fashion. His hand wanders down to her clit, sending the rest of her body in another wave of pleasure until her pace falters.

Y/N clings onto him like she’s gonna get washed away otherwise. And he holds onto her, like he’s afraid she’s gonna disappear as she logs off every night for the past six weeks.

But she’s here, and so is he. And that’s all that matters.

“Fuck me…” she sighs, burying her face in his neck.

“Are you saying or are you asking?”

She giggles, and he can’t imagine ever being tired of her voice. “Both.”

“Say no more, baby.” Harrison squarely kisses her hair and lays her down on the crumpled-up bedsheets.

He kneels before her, his beauty only rivaled by Michelangelo’s David, and slides into her once again. He takes a sharp breath and the Greek statue comes to life. She likes that she has that effect on him. She wraps her legs around his tiny waist, silent claiming him mine, mine, mine.

“You feel so fucking good, what the fuck?” Harrison feverishly rambles, pounding into her in tight, shallow strokes.

“Yeah?” she gives him a sharp smack on his ass. “Get to it, then.”

“Do that again and I just might.”

Smack! It sends shivers down his spine, and he can’t get enough. He quickens his thrusts with every time her palm lands on his ass, and the idea of her handprint on his skin turns him on beyond belief. And when her delicate hand finds her way to his neck, squeezing him into a new height of ecstasy… he’s done for.

“Harrison.”

He spills out her name and his release at the same time. And in the warm spray of his release, she finds hers. Clenching and contracting until they’re both left sweaty and breathless in their own mess. Piling on top of each other in comfortable silence.

“Hey, stranger.” he leaves a peck on the tip of her perfect nose. “Whatcha thinking?”

She ponders over the word he used. Stranger. She ponders over how strange it is that he’s never felt like one to her. And even stranger that they have forever and a night to get to know each other. So she simply shakes her head and says,

“Nice to meet you.”

#ho: fic rec #18+ content (minors dni)

[alldayangst]

Holding Space

TW// sexual assault

Hi everyone, most of you don’t know this about me but a little over a year ago I was sexually assaulted by another student at my university. Over the past few months I’ve taken time to heal, to come to terms with what it meant to be a survivor of sexual assault, and most importantly, that my anger is rightful and deserves space too. Recently, it has come to light that my university has failed other survivors when they reported what has happened to them. Because of this, a huge group of survivors have come together and shared our stories, shared our hurt and our angry and stood together in solidarity. We have created a list of demands for our university, including hiring more victim advocates (we have ONE for over 11,000 undergraduate students) and an independent investigation into our Title IX office. I ask that if any of you see this post that you share it if you can and sign our petition. 

https://www.change.org/p/university-of-vermont-demands-for-uvm-in-response-to-the-systemic-mishandling-of-sexual-misconduct?utm_content=cl_sharecopy_28641426_en-US%3A3&recruiter=56099304&recruited_by_id=83bb88b0-cbdb-0130-07b9-002219670981&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_abi&utm_term=share_p&fbclid=IwAR28T-4uS3A5mhF2kZYw_E7sjOrUwEpoDH_c7X7NR_tQtHQ_jY85EHaDzQ8&use_react=false

#tw sexual assault

[alldayangst]

“don’t forgive you” is pulling on my heart strings and we are only 2 parts in so far. i also applaud you on the rewritten versions as well, both so well done. love your work <3 :))))

Thank you! Honestly, I am my biggest critic so seeing these really made my heart swell. Thank you for enjoying my work + I hope I can post more that you like!

[alldayangst]

WAIT I JUST REALIZED PART 1 AND 2 ARE UP TOO IM AND IDIOT GIVE ME A MINHTE ILL READ THEM AND REPORT BACK WITH MORE COMMENTS <3

YOU ARE THE CUTEST.

[alldayangst]

okay listen... i’m in love with “i don’t forgive you” like that’s my favorite phoebe song turned into a fic??? i’m screaming and crying over here okay. also it’s so beautiful? like i love your writing. the prologue describes the shift from normal person to famous person so beautifully. i love the imagery and the loss of herself shown through it. i’m just so excited and into it and i am ready for the pain that i’m sure will come. thank u for posting it it’s so so lovely !!

Anon, this is so sweet and made my heart so full. I was worried I didn’t flesh out the change from normal person to famous person well enough so for you to say that means so much to me. Phoebe stans solidarity 🤝 

[alldayangst]

If you read for Tom Holland and you like angst, please read this two-shot. Genius writing that pulled me apart and put me back together again.

I’ve gone soft these days and learnt to love a good happy ending, and it couldn’t be cuter in this lil’ fic. Can we talk about the writing style though?

‘You want to turn your back to him also, but are stuck in the grave of his shoulder blades and back muscles roaring behind the misplaced sheet’ and ‘There was no elongated and feverish kissing hour, or a ‘G’night my sweet girl. Love you now, give me a cuddle.” Only, the exasperated sounds of each other’s breathing.’ (from part 2!), those lines fucking killed me cause I write stuff like this only in my wildest dreams. Anyway, enough of me talking, go read it, like it, reblog it. Art of this caliber should never be a secret.

slamming doors | t.h.

request: ‘silent treatment ending with fluff ??’

tw: dad!tom, language, angst, & fluff. will have a part two obvi.

a/n: i’m gonna assume you meant for this be with tom haha. i kinda took this and ran with it anon because i loved the idea. decided to try out actual upper case let me know what u think. not sure if it’s my style or not, feedback help. — mya <\3

⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ *ૢ✧ ⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ *ૢ✧

∘₊✧─── ‘SHIT, Tom might actually kill me this time’ you thought. A silver band, engraved with the date the two met, and a small diamond yet flashy all in all, surrounded by small red jewels — he knows how you fawn over the color. Thomas acquired the idea for a while after having seen just how sentimental in taste you were, and rather pardoned large rocks. The wedding actually had to be pushed back because, the ring spent double time being made to perfection but it all still fell into place. You and tom have been married for a little bit short of three years, a couple for six, and managed to have a son in between all of that. A ring meant you and toms infatuation for eachother would be ethereal and never fade, yet it also meant you have a family together and you promise to make it work despite how bad it could get.

That is why if Tom notices the ring missing before you get the chance of working up the courage to tell him, he’ll probably blow a gasket. He may actually have smoke burning from his ears. He doesn’t care about much material things, but that ring was top tier in Toms eyes. You actually had gotten a taste of his reaction before when you accidentally misplaced it on the kitchen counter under the dish you’d made that night. No idea where he is, all you know is he left set muffled sounds on the other end of the phone saying something about, “Pickin’ m’lovie up from daycare darling. Start a shower for us, gonna’ spend the day with my family. Love you, sweet girl.”

Dammit, won’t be a shower after he finds out.

Retracing your steps from the moment you ripped out of Tom’s embrace this morning. You’d only noticed it was missing before washing your face, always taking it off so it doesn’t encounter with water. Playing it off then, so Tom didn’t panic before going to work. You made a mental list in your mind scurrying around, seeing as he’s going to be here any minute.

One, picking up Tom’s toothbrush— when he’s in a rush he hardly picks up after himself.

Two, getting Carrington dressed and prepared for daycare.

Three, feeding Tessa.

Four, bringing Carrington to school

Sadly, that’s all the steps you had left to retrace because you alone were in a rush. When you were ripped from Tom’s embrace , you meant it. Quite literally had to force yourself away from him after being showered with wet kisses and wandering hands that massaged every area possible. Loosing track of time.

Oh Thomas, you’re in for a bloody surprise.

Quick to pop up from your position underneath the couch, flash light in one hand, knees ridden with lines from the oak floor. The door clasps open with an exhausted looking tom and Carrington, or his mini. The spitting image of Tom, curls tighter than his fathers but the same rosed cheeks. He’s holding his fathers old stuffed panda from while he was four alike with his age, and a backpack that’s bigger than him, he’s almost up to toms knees. Tom’s got an old baseball cap on, nirvana sweatshirt, and probably a random pair of sweat pants from the back of his car. And his Rolex oddly enough, he sported it often.

“Daddy s’not nap time,” Carrington stomps his foot. You swaying your way over to pick up the toddler, Tom giving you a welcoming hug and a trace of his lips left in the centre of your forehead. You didn’t know how to lie. Especially to someone you love, plus Toms got this intimidating look about him. If he stares at you with that glint in his eyes for too long and you’re putty in his hands. Maybe avoid eye contact or tell him the truth, you feel like chocking on air either way.

“You were grumpy the whole ride. Told me to leave you alone and all. Yes, it’s nap time .. might have a surprise for you when you wake up bug,” Tom assures, reaching his hands out to take the little boy, whom is already falling asleep. Your shoot him a weak smile, but it’s obvious he just wants some alone time with you.

“Surprise?” he mumbles, falling into Toms arms, whilst he tuts sweet words into Carringtons ears. Wishing him away to sleep.

You bite back your lip, pacing throughout the living room. Its like everything was in fast motion, the second it disappeared til now. Tom’s so careful with his items, you wished you could be more like him. How could i be so idiotic, to lose or misplace the single most valuable representation of our love ? You know Tom could be understanding as well, but at this point you have no certainty as to what Tom you’ll get. But either way you think you’ll deserve it.

Tom’s patted Carrington’s bottom several times to ease him away, sixth time seemed to be a charm. Parting your shared bedroom door open, he lifts his arms to remove the clothed sweatshirt from his body, throwing it in a miscellaneous position in the dark area.

You aren’t giving up, but this house is eating away at you. Every corner, every small space, every piece of furniture, has been searched and no luck. The more you search, the colder you are at finding the band— Have you lost the ring or has the ring lost you ?

Shirtless and tousled hair you peer at Tom stumbling his way down the stairs, yet still managing to stand upright. Maybe you haven’t done enough to look but, you’ve overlooked the same pattern over ten times. If it isn’t turning up now it won’t, the pit in you stomach aches more as he inches more, a sloppy grin on his face when he notices you washing dishes so sloppily and frantically. He should know why.

Dishes were a distraction, and a way for you to prepare yourself for what your about to say. One more time of checking for it wouldn’t hurt, but you didn’t want to give yourself up out of hope in finding it before he did. So fuck it, you’re going to have to tell him the truth.

You squeal unexpectedly, dropping the small saucer with old condiments sparsely spread about it. Tom’s bare chest meets with the cold skin of your back, his left hand turns off the hot water making you drop the sponge and dirty dish into the metallic sink.

Tom wants attention, evidently.

Fingers nearly dipping below your waste band, you ease your hands on top of his, sulking in his current mood. He won’t be acting like that soon. All of your hair fans a shoulder blade whilst he places gentle, yet needy kisses to you neck. Thumbs inching small circles into your revealed back, his nose nuzzled close to your ear. It was his comfort position, he could’ve held you like that for hours and not have enough.

Tom’s lips purse, vibrations of his voice anointing your skin, “Thought about kissing you all day, darling.” He pulls you in closer, it’s not that you’re trying to make your uncomfortableness noticeable, it’s that you’re uncomfortable knowing that you’ll disappoint him. Almost like since you’ve lost the ring, that you don’t deserve to be in his presence. “Wanted you so bad,” he whispers, trying to rid your body of the low torso-crop top. But, instead you grab his hands, pushing them away, and turn to face him.

The usual cold granite island counter top, is hot to the small of your back. Nerves racking tenfold whilst Tom peers down at you, small curls beaming to his forehead. He cocks his head to the side, with a furrowed eyebrow when he notices you glaring at everything but him. Personally now, his stomach is doing flips and rumbles because he can read your body language. Wondering if he fucked up or what could possibly be wrong. Your heart patters, upon him lifting you up by your arms to seat you on the counter top. Hands placed on either side of your steamy cheeks, forced eye contact at its finest if you will. “Wha’s the matter, hm?” his fingers tracing shapes along your jawline.

“Have to tell you something,” your posture weakens, you imagine it’s what it would feel like to tell your significant other than you’ve cheated on him. Or is that too extreme in this case? Maybe not, but either way it’s evident you’re damned. Tom’s hands fall, instead by either of you sides on the counter. Nodding his head for you to continue. “Kinda fucked up bad,” is all you can manage to mutter.

“If you’ve done something, just tell me,” his voice is cold yet comforting, because he doesn’t know what words are about to fall past your lips next. The sound of his finger tips tapping are all that the room fills with, until you gulp initially just deciding to get it with. An uncontrolled tears streams past your cheek, Tom’s thumb still flying to wipe it away.

“Will you be mad?” you question, which is probably the wrong thing to ask. Tom sort of has a short fuse, though it may run out a bit slower when it comes to you. Always did have a soft spot, even when he was holding your hand in first grade. He balances on one foot anxiously. “Love, I don’t even know what it is. Can’t promise you anything.”

With a pop of your mouth, you’re off and letting your mouth move too far ahead. “Woke up, and my ring was gone. Just the wedding ring though, not my engagement one.” As if that makes it any better. “Been looking for it since you left this morning and I cannot fucking find it. It was on my finger last night after I tucked Carrington in and then I don’t know what happened.”

Shit, he’s even clenching his jaw. His fists whiten whilst he backs himself into the stove, it probably hurt but he wouldn’t admit it. The pain sufficed for the replaying of your voice over and over telling him that you lost band of devotion towards you. Not meant just for a wedding ring but for every time he saw you biting your nails in the hallways. Everytime he saw you stumbling on your words when he walked in the room. Did your love mean nothing without the ring? He wore his pridefully everyday.

“Did you even look for it?” Is all he beams, minutes later. It’s been silent, yet neither of you moved. But before you can answer he’s biting back again. “It’s a shame how careless you are, y/n. You should of fucking paid attention.” Tom thought your relentless irresponsible antics only got worser with your age. His mind is raging, and he keeps taking notice of you with your head hanging low. Yeah, his words hurt you. But you know that if roles were reversed you’d feel the same, except less harsh with words.

“Could you at least help me look?” You ask, and he scoffs leaving distaste in your mouth. His scoff is partly because he shouldn’t have to, and because you completely ignored what he just said. “I didn’t loose the bloody ring, you did. I’m not gonna’ help you. Let this be a lesson.” Tom, shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. Padding away and leaving you in the kitchen.

“Don’t talk to me, until you’ve found it.” yelling his final words before slamming the bedroom door.

#fic rec #t: angst and fluff pie #t: i'm not crying

[alldayangst]

Lights Up (2019)

#love of my life #harry