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breathinginthevapor · 6 years ago

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“Can I sleep here tonight?”

Summary: When faced by the loneliness of staying on campus for spring break, you decide to pay a visit to your best friend Jacob. Only, it seems you’ve forgotten he’s with his parents, but luckily, Jacob’s roommate and fellow drama major, Tom, is there, and offers you some company.

A/N: This is written for the lovely @bringmethehorizonandpizza ‘s writing challenge in celebration of her 21th birthday, so happy birthday, Anne! I chose the blurb “Can I sleep here tonight” and I personally think the result ended up pretty cute. Feedback would be very much appreciated!

Word count: 5200+

T/W: Swearing

Masterlist

It’s raining outside, pouring, even. The sky is dark, and the blackness creeps onto you, making you shudder. You’ve always hated being out in the dark, especially while alone, and not even the beautiful full moon can make you feel better. It feels like every shadow is lurking on you, and the yellow light from the street lights only makes it worse. You curse yourself far away for watching that serial killer documentary, knowing that your brain would process the horrific details and let them surface in a moment like this.

The rain soaks through your clothing and hair, making everything cling tightly to your skin. If it wasn’t for your vehement hatred against umbrellas in general and your lack of raincoat because you were stupid enough to forget it last time you went home, you wouldn’t have been so surely catching a cold.

But well, stubbornness and stupidity brought this on you, and a cold luckily won’t kill you. It won’t even be as bad as staying in your own dorm room, listening to every footstep outside your door and getting more and more scared while the extreme stress of all your unfinished assignments and loneliness lays just underneath the fright.

Still, you are about to turn on your heel and run home when you finally reach the dorm, relief shooting through your body.

As soon as you step inside the hallway, the smell of junk food, sweat and boy hits you, but more importantly, a warmth that makes you realise how your teeth are clattering and goose bumps covering your skin.

A rap song you faintly recognise but wouldn’t know any words of plays behind one of the doors, and you can hear the sound of a shower a little down the hall. It’s still audible when a brunette walks out of the door, only clad in a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. He has a deliciously toned stomach, you acknowledge, a sight for sore eyes, for sure.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” the guy asks, just as you’ve realised who it is. You immediately feel your cheeks turn hot while you try not to look at his exposed torso. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem anywhere near as flustered as you.

You wonder if it’s an actor thing, not being as easily ashamed as “normal” people, because Jacob’s exactly the same way.

“Hey Tom,” you mutter, glancing at a shabby concert poster on the wall instead of him. You can’t make yourself look at him, not now, at least.

“I was just- I wanted-,” you start, but you don’t know what to say, really. The reason for your visit seems both embarrassing and stupid now.

And then, to make matters much, much worse, you start crying. At least the tears are a little warmer water than the rain that’s already slid down your face, but opposed to the rain, your cries make the whole situation far weirder.

“I’m just really lonely, and I watched that creepy new documentary on Netflix, and then I thought Jacob would be able to cheer me up, but I’ve just realised that he isn’t even here, and I really don’t wanna go back to my dorm, but I guess it’s my only choice,” you sobbingly ramble, the hurried and uncontrolled way the words leave your mouth reminding you of the feeling of puking.

Fortunately, you’re 95% sure you didn’t actually puke. That would have been the cherry on top of your bad day, truly.

You’re absolutely certain that Tom will respond with something awkward and then close the door to his dorm room in your face, but instead, he walks to you and engulfs you in a warm hug.

In spite of the uncomfortable feeling of your soaked shirt against his bare chest and the clear awkwardness of hugging a hot shirtless guy whose lower body is only hidden by a towel, it’s a nice hug. Especially because he doesn’t let go of you after the usual few seconds that such embraces last.

You cry into his chest as he soothingly caresses your back, and miraculously, your eyes stop dropping tears, and your breathing slows down. You can feel your body heat rise, the warmth of his body affecting yours.

“Thank you,” you mumble, the unfamiliar feeling of your lips moving against his naked skin causing goose bumps to rise on your skin once more. It reminds you all too much of your dark fantasies, the ones you’d never admit to anyone, the ones where your lips move against his skin just like now, but under much different circumstances.

He releases you and eyes you with a soft, worried expression on his face. Your focus shifts for a swift second to a pearl of water that runs from his wet hair down the side of his face, leaving a shimmering trail. His skin looks flushed, perhaps he rinsed it while showering, and his forehead and chin are a little spotty, but it doesn’t make him any less handsome.

“I know I’m not Jacob,” he says, biting his lip and pulling your focus back from his facial features, “but do you wanna stay in my room for a while? I don’t want you to go home like this, especially not in this weather.”

You can’t believe how sweet he is, first letting you cry your eyes out against his chest and then offering you his company. It’s not at all helping you get rid of the crush you have on him, and perhaps it would be healthier for your budding feelings to go home, but you only have to think about laying alone in your dorm room for a second before you make up your mind.

“Are you sure? It’s my own fault for forgetting that he’s with his parents, and I don’t want to intrude.”

He grins widely at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you after him. “Of course! I’m sick of watching Friends on my own anyway.”

You laugh, feeling happier than you have in what feels like a terribly long time. At least ever since most of your friends, including both Jacob and your roommate, went home over spring break and left you on campus with long-ass assignments, nobody to talk to and one hell of a mess in your room.

You’re also pretty sure your roommate had some sort of existential crisis before going home as she kept mumbling about breaking up with her boyfriend and how he would hate her for it and then if she had remembered to pack her favourite yellow dress, although she’s told you about a hundred times that she hates wearing dresses. Besides, you’ve never seen her wear anything that wasn’t black.

Her mental state resulted in a terrible mess in your room, at you just can’t bear to look at the scattered school books, crumpled pieces of clothing or half-eaten packs of jelly beans anymore.

“Well, make yourself at home. I’ll- uhm, I’ll put on some clothes,” he tells you once he’s closed the door behind you, clearly remembering how little he’s wearing.

“I’ll just turn around and cover my eyes,” you stutteringly assure him, following your own instructions and adding a small joke to try to ease the tension, “I promise I won’t look.”

He chuckles, sounding a bit more relaxed. You hear him shuffle around and then exclaim a muffled sound, similar to the ones you let out when you get stuck in a shirt or sweater.

“Are you stuck?” you giggle.

“I was, but I’m good now,” he answers, sounding out of breath. “You can look, by the way, I’m fully dressed.”

You remove your palms from your face and turn around, sitting down on Jacob’s bed. Tom’s wearing a grey sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, and he looks so soft it takes everything in you not to jump into his arms or squeeze his cheeks. You have to remind yourself that you don’t even know him that well, that just because you’ve heard so much about Tom from Jacob, it doesn’t mean that you’re, by any means, close with the boy. You wish you were.

He crooks his head and looks at you with furrowed eyes, glancing up and down your body.

“D’you want a towel to dry off? And maybe some dry clothes? I don’t want to overstep, but I’d also hate myself if I was the reason for you getting sick.”

The apple of his cheeks grows to resemble, yes, (red) apples, as he scratches his neck and shoots you an uncomfortable glance.

A lump forms in your throat, amazed at his hospitality and kindness. You nod, “You’re not overstepping at all. Actually, you’re being scarily sweet. Sure an alien isn’t possessing you?”

He laughs, “Yeah. Pretty sure. Just naturally this charming,” he winks at you.

“That’s what someone possessed by aliens would say, though,” you point out, trying to ignore how flustered you got at his gesture. He shakes his head at you with a big grin.

“Careful now, if you’d like to avoid the flu,” he jokes, picking a green towel from the cabinet and throwing it at you. “Tee or sweatshirt?”

You shrug, already drying of your hair with the towel, “Don’t care.”

You’re barely able to catch the blue hoodie that flies through the air, inches from hitting you in the head.

“Shorts or sweats?” he then inquiries, holding both a pair of football shorts and a pair of sweats that looks identical to the ones he’s wearing.

“Shorts,” you decide, this time ready to receive the black fabric.

“Do you want me to wait in the hallway while you get changed?” he offers, closing the cabinet and smiling softly at you.

You shake your head, returning his smile, “No no, just turn around.”

“You sure?” he checks, and you nod, assuring him that you are. He turns around, drying his brown locks in the white towel he’s already used in the shower as you quickly slip off your wet garments and put on Tom’s instead.

When you pull the shirt over your head, the smell of Tom hits your nostrils, a delicious mixture of citrus, musk and washing powder.

“All decent,” you tell him once you’re fully clothed, and he turns to you again, walking to his own bed and sitting down.

You’re facing each other, the narrowness of the room causing your knees to be just inches apart, so close that your bare legs can feel the warmth radiating from his.

“Do you wanna talk about what upset you, or should I just ramble about something completely else?” he offers, a sweet smile on his lips.

You bite your lip, feeling out of place even though you’ve been in the room to visit Jacob countless times.

It’s a nice and cosy place, much tidier than most boy dorm rooms. There are movie posters on the wall, both old, classic ones and newer comedies. It smells good, too, like masculine deodorant with only a tiny and actually not all-too-bad hint of sweat, perhaps caused by the few pieces of sports clothing discarded on the floor.

Tom quickly rises from his seat on the bed to put it in the laundry basket when he notices you eyeing the stuff. He continues with quick, clumsy movements to clean up after himself, almost tripping over his own feet.

“Sorry it’s so messy,” he sheepishly apologizes.

You shake your dismissingly, “Don’t think you’ve been to Mark Smith’s room if you think this is messy.”

His gaze is still shy, stuttering as he replies, “Do-do you- erhm- do you spend a lot of time in Mark’s room?”

“No,” you deny, noticing how his shoulder relaxes at your words, “Not really my type, to be honest. Just did a group project with him a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh,” he mutters, sitting down again.

“To answer your question from before, I’ve just felt really lonely during the break. Don’t really wanna talk about it, though.”

“Fair. Wanna watch a movie instead?” he proposes, and you nod. He stands back up, fetching the laptop from his backpack before dumping back on the bed for the third time, kicking his feet up and getting under the duvet.

He shuffles close to the wall, patting the space next to him on the bed. “Do you wanna sit here? Unfortunately, my laptop isn’t as big as a telly, so you’ll see much better over here.”

You feel your palms grow sweaty as you nod, leaving Jacob’s bed in favour of joining Tom. You sit down on the duvet, legs touching through the cover and your shoulder bumping into his while the back of your hands almost brush, laying side by side.

“What do you wanna watch?” he inquires.

“Dunno,” you shrug, “Maybe that new Thor movie?”

His features brighten, an excited grin on his face. “Yeah? I’ve been wanting to watch it for ages but haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Then let’s do it,” you smile, your gaze switching from the screen to his face while he finds the movie.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him. Being so near to him makes you able to stare at him without getting interrupted, and you realise he’s even more handsome than you thought.

Or, maybe he’s not, because he surely looks almost angelic, perfect, even, from afar, but of course he isn’t any of those things. He’s human, and he’s got moles and acne and zits and scars like everybody else, but you can’t help but think that these small imperfections just make him look more attractive. Unfair.

Then, the opening music of the movie plays, and you turn your eyes to the screen again.

You’re completely captivated by the story unfolding for your eyes until the very end, only realising how tired you’ve become when you yawn while the ending credits roll.

“Well, I guess it’s getting kinda late,” Tom trails off, looking unsure. His words immediately send you back into a different mood, replacing the content, relaxed one.

“Uhm, yeah, I guess,” you mumble, looking down. You’re barely able to hold back the tears, every fibre of your body feeling uncomfortable at the thought of returning to your own room.

“I- You… I completely understand if you say no, and you have every right to, but I was just wondering,” you pause, suddenly losing to courage to ask.

“Yes?” he encourages you with a smile.

“Can I- Can I sleep here tonight?” you whisper, your heart sinking when his eyes extract into a surprised expression and a surprised sound, almost like a small gasp, leaves his throat.

He runs a hand through his hair, but it gets stuck for a few second when he hits a knot in the tousled locks. He seems to fight it, his focus turning from you to his hair for a moment before he bites his lip, looks down and nods.

“Yeah, of course,” he assures you. “Of course, you can,” he repeats with a low voice, sounding like it’s something he tells himself rather than you.

“Are you sure?”

This time, he seems more convinced, eyes meeting yours, “Wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t.”

You shoot him a smile you hope looks grateful, and it’s quickly returned with a grin of his own.

“Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve slept here, is it?” he points out, changing both the subject and atmosphere to a more easy-going one.

You giggle, hit by memories of drunkenly dropping down on Jacob’s bed and not having the energy or self-restraint to get up again before you woke up the next morning with a massive headache and killer breath next to the Hawaiian/Filipino boy.

“I guess it isn’t,” you agree.

“Before Jacob met Alyssa, I thought,” he pauses, swallowing, looking at you expectantly like you’re supposed to know what he’s hinting at. But you don’t, and he seems to realise that as he elaborates, “That you two were… a thing.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Me and Jacob?”

Tom nods, confirming.

“Oh god, he’s like a brother to me, that would be disgusting!”

“Dunno, you just seemed really close,” he explains.

You shrug, “Well, we are really close, but we aren’t exactly each other’s types. There’s never been anything more than friendly between us, ever.”

“I think you’re everybody’s type, Y/N,” he blurts out, looking horrified afterwards.

You can feel the heat rush towards your face, wondering what exactly he meant by that compliment.

Because it is a compliment, right? It must be.

“I didn’t mean- I don’t- I-,” he starts, a panicked look on his face, before he calms himself down with a deep breath that you try to match to get your own heart under control. “Erhm, yeah, just can’t really comprehend how anyone wouldn’t think you were absolutely amazing.”

You can’t believe how courageous he is, telling someone he barely knows something so personal. And yeah, you already knew he was brave, having seen him perform in plays and knowing that he dreams to become an actor, a profession that takes insane amounts of courage, baring yourself to strangers every day, but this seems different. This isn’t a job or a dream or an artform. This is the real life, and it’s scary. At least you think so.

Though perhaps you aren’t as unfamiliar to each other as you have convinced yourself you are.

You think back on all those mornings hungover with Jacob, and you can’t come up with one where Tom didn’t go with you to get breakfast, terribly chirpy and energetic while telling you about some prank his brothers had pulled on him once or a weird audition he went to.

You recall some of those small comments he made when he studied in the room while you were hanging out with Jacob, seemingly keeping up with the conversation enough to add his thoughts every once in a while.

And you remember those parties where you and Jacob managed to convince Tom to tag along, watching him dance surprisingly great (it took a while before you found out he had danced a lot growing up, even starring in Billy Elliot), loose fatally in beer pong and shy away from all the girls who made a move on him, shooting you desperate glances before you saved him from their drunk persistence with an apologetic smile to the girl and a tight grip on his bicep.

“Thank you,” you mumble while you feel your skin heat up, something it does an awfully lot today. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

He offers you a small smile, “Just telling the truth.”

No need to say, you blush even harder.

But before you can reply with a compliment of your own or at least explain to him how much his words mean to you, he abruptly changes the subject, “We should probably get ready for bed. I don’t have a spare toothbrush, and I’d offer to lend you mine if it wasn’t, you know, terribly unhygienic and gross.”

You chuckle, “Thanks for the thought, but I’ll manage with my finger if I could just get a bit of toothpaste.”

“Of course.”

You brush your teeth side by side in the claustrophobic miniature bathroom, once in a while catching each other’s eyes in the mirror before shyly looking away. It’s like a game, and you can’t stop playing, not when his words from before are repeated in your head over and over again.

“Have you asked Jacob if it’s okay with him that you sleep in his bed? I’m sure it is, and I’ll just take the floor if it isn’t, but I’d just rather that he knows.”

You nod after spitting out the toothpaste, “Just sent him a text.”

Not even five seconds later, your phone buzzes with a text from your mutual friend.

Jacob: Of course!

You turn your phone to Tom to show him that Jacob has agreed to your arrangement, but then you see Tom’s eyes enlarge and a blush creep across his cheeks and look at the phone yourself.

Jacob: Just don’t get frisky in my bed, lovebirds.

You can’t believe him. That really wasn’t needed, especially with the tension already so weird. You try to laugh, but the awkward cough-like sound doesn’t even convince yourself, and you abruptly go quiet, making it seem, if possible, even more fake.

Luckily, Tom acts like nothing happened, asking you if you’re ready for bed.

“Feel like I’ll collapse soon so it’s probably for the best,” you agree.

He smiles at your comment and returns to the dorm room, plopping down on the bed. You don’t know what to say, and the silence is thick and unpleasant as you lay there in your respective beds, staring at the ceiling.

Then, Tom clears his throat and turns of the bedside lamp, leaving the room in darkness.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says.

“Goodnight, Tom,” you whisper back, feeling your heart pumping in your chest while you inwardly curse yourself being such a coward. Usually, you’re good at taking the first step when you’re interested in or intrigued by someone, but this feels different. Like a no from Tom would be much worse than a no from all those other sweet, pretty guys you’ve had a crush on.

But you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves before speaking up with a low voice, “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

“No problem,” he assures you, voice soft.

“I’m really glad you were here today,” you start, convincing yourself not to chicken out. “I feel like I’ve kinda gotten to know you a bit because of Jacob, and I know we don’t really talk that much just the two of us, but,” you take another deep breath, knowing that your next words will possibly make it terribly awkward for you to visit Jacob, “I wish we did. I just never know what to say because you’re this sweet, funny, hot drama major, and then I just chicken out.”

Although it’s dark, your eyes have gotten used to it, and you’re thereby able to make out his features when he turns around to face you, laying on his side. There’s a small smile on his face, his brown eyes glistens and his hair is a mess, but an incredibly cute one.

“What’s my major got to do with anything?” he just asks, and you almost tear up. He clearly doesn’t like you, he wouldn’t have asked about something like that if he did, and you try to tell yourself that at least you know now, and that you can move on instead of spending most of your day thinking about Tom. It doesn’t really help all too much, though.

You chuckle half-heartedly, “Dunno, you’re just all so confident and brave, and that’s kinda intimidating, I guess.”

He doesn’t answer, and instead you lay in silence looking at each other, until Tom turns back to laying on his back, and you’re sure that you’ve ruined everything there was to ruin between the two of you. You mentally prepare yourself to the prospect of having to go home to your lonely dorm room, catching a cold in the rain and your only company for the rest of the break another stupid Netflix series while you cry your eyes out.

“You think I’m hot?” he then inquires, and at least he’s not ordering you to leave yet.

“Um, yeah? Half of the school does, to be honest,” you bitterly acknowledge, recalling all those times where you caught girls (and every now and then a boy, although the boys in general seem less interested) looking dreamily at him or slipping him their number or even those parties where you saved him from other students flirting with him. You get mad at yourself for thinking that you were better than those people, thinking you had just a slightly bigger chance than them, just because you know him and talk to him regularly, when in reality, you’re just as hopelessly crushing as the rest of them. Perhaps even worse because he’s an actual part of your life and not just a cute guy on campus.

He laughs quietly, “Then I think you should get your eyes tested ‘cause you’re clearly blind. People don’t find me attractive.”

“It’s true. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how people throw themselves at you. I have to rescue you from at least two at every party,” you remind him.

“They’re just drunk. I could be a 70-year-old with a Gandalf beard, and they would be too pissed to notice,” he protests, making you roll your eyes. Fortunately, he can’t see as his gaze is still fixated on the ceiling.

“No, they aren’t. And even if they were, what about that redhead in the cafeteria last week, or the boy with the glasses at the diner?“ you argue, his only response a muffled sound, seemingly agreeing with you. He doesn’t really have a choice, though, because everyone who was there with you at the diner when the guy asked Tom out jokes about it. Tom’s perplexed reaction made it almost too easy for you to make fun of him, really.

Then, there’s another minute of silence before Tom faces you once more and slowly, almost carefully as if he’s tasting every word, asks, “Y/N, do you like me?”

Now, you tell yourself, you’ll get thrown out, and you’ll never get to hear another of Tom’s stupid jokes or clever comebacks to Jacob’s joking insults and you’ll probably also need to find another place to crash when your roommate is fucking another girl as she does at least once a week, and it’s just terrible.

But you still answer his question truthfully.

“Yeah,” you whisper, closing your eyes to avoid seeing his face when he rejects you.

“As more than a friend?” he checks.

“Yeah,” you repeat, scrunching your eyes even closer together.

Then he starts laughing, the act surprising you so much that your eyes fly open to look at him, although it’s still too dark to see his features properly. At first, you’re confused, but then you just feel even more humiliated. Are your feelings really so strange he has to make fun of them?

However, he proves you wrong when he turns on the light and stands up energetically, looking almost giddy. You can’t look away, and you’re just awaiting the deathblow, but it doesn’t come.

“I don’t even know what to with myself,” he chuckles, the grin on his face so bright you’re sure it could light up the room, if the light wasn’t already turned on, of course. “I’ve been pining after you for so long, and I didn’t believe Jacob when he said that you wouldn’t reject me if I made a move, but this is, like, the dream!”

Your tiredness causes you to become confused, not understanding what he says immediately. And then, your lack of confidence and the long time you’ve spent thinking that Tom didn’t feel anything for you but friendship, forces you to tell yourself that it can’t be real, that he must joking.

“I’m sorry, am I coming on too strong? I’m just really excited,” he explains, this time calmer.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” you whisper, shaking the covers off and slowly sitting up on the bed.

“Are you making fun of me?” you then ask, because although it seems unlikely as Tom is one of the kindest and most considerate people you’ve ever met, the other alternative is even more unlikely.

“No! No, no, I would never,” he desperately assures you, sitting down beside you, his upper body turned against you as he bites his lip and looks you in the eye. “Why would you even think that?”

You shrug, and he takes your hand in his, and although his palm is sweaty, you can’t help but feeling that you’ve never experienced anything as amazing as the feeling of his palm in yours and his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

You look down at your joined hands, the realisation slowly hitting you. He likes you. Tom likes you.

“I dunno. It just never seemed like you liked me back,” you mumble, a thousand thoughts and feelings shooting through your head, driving you to the point of dizziness.

He looks bewildered at you, like you’ve said something unbelievable.

“Are you telling me you haven’t noticed how I stare at you for literally hours and that I always tag along when you and Jacob hang out? Not to mention how I not even an hour ago blurted out that I thought you were everybody’s type.”

It makes sense when he puts it like that, but you still don’t think it’s that simple.

“Yeah, but then I told you how amazing I thought you were, and you just asked me why I mentioned your major!” you shoot back. “And you didn’t notice either how Jacob and I hang out here waaaay more than in my room, and that I always beg you to come party with us and that I’m acting like a creepy stalker all the time, watching over you like a hawk and becoming overly jealous and miserable every time someone flirts with you!”

You almost spit the words out, wanting to point out that you’re not the only one who’s been oblivious, but it looks like it has the opposite effect. Tom looks taken back by your outburst, watching you with wide eyes, and you absolutely hate yourself for being too much, like you always are, and it’s just so typical you.

But before you can do or say anything to save the situation, there’s a warm pair of lips pressing against your own. When you don’t react, too shocked to move any part of your body, the lips disappear almost as fast as they came and makes you wonder if it even happened at all.

Luckily, Tom’s guilty expression and next words assure that the kiss was real, “I’m so sorry, I should have asked you first, I’m really sorry-”

“No!” you cut him off, only making him look more terrified, so you decide it’s probably best to tone it down a little and speak with a calmer voice, “No, don’t be sorry. I just thought I had scared you away and ruined everything with that stalker-thing, so I was a little surprised, that’s all.”

His face slowly softens, a relieved noise leaving his mouth.

“It was nice. The kiss. Dreamt about doing that for a long time, to be honest,” you sheepishly add, making him smile.

“Me too,” he admits, and then he kisses you again. He releases your hand and grabs your face again while you bury your fingers in the small curls in his neck. His mouth is warm against yours, and you can’t believe it’s really happening.

You break apart first, panting a little as you rest your forehead against his, grinning.

“I really really really like you,” he admits happily, making you laugh just because you’re so tremendously ecstatic. The world feels light and so full of possibilities, completely opposite to how sad and lonely you felt a couple hours ago.

“I really really really like you, too,” you answer, and you can’t help but kiss him again, this time slipping your tongue through his lips, letting it taste the tip of his.

And well, when Jacob a couple days later comes home to you and Tom making out in Tom’s bed and sighs knowingly, you must admit that staying on campus for spring break wasn’t the worst decision you’ve made.

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thewisebyers · 6 years ago

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imagine being best friends with the spiderman cast bc you’ve worked with tom on a different project and you do a LSB with jacob since tom and zendaya were on there and you guys wanted a turn. and jacob goes “just cause you’re tom’s girlfriend doesn’t mean i’m gonna go easy on you” and you’re completely shook bc y’all are dating in secret and jacob just goes “whoops” into his mic

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland blurb #jacob batalon #zendaya #tom holland x reader #my work #my imagine

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living-dead-parker · 6 years ago

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Dive - H.O

Summary: Harrison dives into some water and doesn’t hear the end of it. Inspired by his Instagram story where he’s diving somewhere in Croatia. Also, the Jacob mentioned here is Jacob Batalon.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 772

Sitting in the makeup trailer, waiting on the makeup artist to come back, you decide to scroll through your phone. You respond to texts from family before going to Harrison's message thread. With a smile, you respond to his good morning text, responding to the time it is where he's at in Croatia at the moment. The door to the trailer opens and you notice Jacob walk in to get into his wig and makeup.

"Morning," Jacob mumbles tiredly. Through a giggle, at his adorably tired haze. you respond likewise. He takes a seat just a few feet away from you. Not a minute later, your makeup artist walks in, followed by the other for Jacob's makeup. It's not too long from now that your other castmates are set to arrive for makeup as well. "You seem very energetic this morning," Jacob mumbles as he yaws, eyes watering a bit.

"Guess I woke up pretty happy today," you respond. Jacob nods, pulling his phone as the makeup artist begins working on him.

With that, you all go to doing your thing. You decide to go on Instagram and check some stories out. When you open the app, you see that quite some people have posted, but you see Harrison's story appear first. You smile, wanting to see all of your boyfriend's adventures. He's only been there a day so far, but he's sent you so many pictures and you're actually quite excited each time you get a new picture. You love following his adventures even through social media or through texts.

Clicking on his story, you watch from where you left off, where he last posted last night where he's at. Now you're watching what he posted while you were still asleep. You see a video of a man jumping off what seems like some ledge of some sort, into a body of water. At the bottom, there is a poll, asking if he should jump. Your eyes wide, and when you vote no, you see that nearly 95% voted yes. The screen changes and it's a video of Harrison at the top. The text reads 'sorry mom, sorry Y/N'.

You're not scared of heights, no that's not it. But you are scared of how narrow the space of water between the two ledges looks. You are also scared of the second and bigger ledge on the way down. That and you're not too fond of watching people dive. However, you can't tear your eyes away as Harrison jumps, landing into the water. Involuntarily, you let out a squeal.

Everyone's head snaps in your direction, giving you an odd look. You go back and turn your phone in Jacob's direction, showing him the video. He bursts into laughter when he sees it, letting out some type of cheer as well. You playfully roll your eyes as you exit the app. Instead, you go to your contacts and call Harrison. The phone rings for a few seconds before Harrison finally does pick up. You put the phone on speaker, Jacob pulling his phone out and recording.

"Y/N! Hey baby," Harrison responds, the eagerness showing in his tone.

"Harrison Osterfield," you say in a low tone, letting out a huff of faux annoyance. "What the hell was that on your Insta story?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, letting out a snort on the other end of the line. Obviously taking the piss.

"Next time, you're gonna be diving into my fist, that's not funny!" you whine, groaning at the end. You see Jacob stop recording, giggling as he types something for a few seconds before setting his phone down.

"Ah don't worry, darling," Harrison speaks softly, chuckling a little as well. "I'm fine. It was actually really fun!"

"Just," you mumble softly, leaning back in your seat. You know Harrison isn't stupid. He's a bit of a div, as he says, but he's capable of taking care of himself and not getting into trouble. "Be careful, I don't wanna see your body being pulled out of a levy or something."

"I'll make sure to get involved with a mob, but stay away from levies. Got it!"

"Haz! You know what I mean," you whine again, wanting to punch him a little. Punch him with love. Well, your fist, but love too! "Just be careful, you little shit."

From there, you two get into a conversation, Jacob joining in as well. You all talk about the day's plans, filming, and so much more. Eventually, your makeup is done, Harrison is off busy having fun, and you have to film. So you say your goodbyes for the day and begin yours.

Send in requests or feedback. Come talk to me or ask me questions!!

#harrison osterfield #harrison x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #haz osterfield #haz x reader #imagine #reader insert #jacob batalon (mentioned)#blurb

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movies-to-add-to-your-tbw · 2 years ago

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Title: Every Day

Rating: PG-13

Director: Michael Sucsy

Cast: Angourie Rice, Justice Smith, Debby Ryan, Maria Bello, Lucas Jade Zumann, Jacob Batalon, Colin Ford, Owen Teague, Jake Sim, Katie Douglas, Charles Vandervaart, Amanda Arcuri, Michael Cram, Nicole Law, Karena Evans, Robinne Fanfair, Tara Nicodemo, Danielle Bourgon, Kevin Foy, Jake Robards, Ian Alexander, Rohan Mead, Sean Jones, Jeni Ross, Hannah Alissa Richardson

Release year: 2018

Genres: romance, fantasy

Blurb: 16-year-old Rhiannon falls in love with a mysterious spirit named A that inhabits a different body every day. Feeling an unmatched connection, Rhiannon and A work each day to find each other, not knowing what the next day will bring.

#every day #pg13 #michael sucsy #angourie rice #justice smith #debby ryan #maria bello #lucas jade zumann #2018 #romance #fantasy

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heartbreakerholland · 7 years ago

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*blows kiss into the wind* for peter parker

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anxiousstark · 6 years ago

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Asters | p.p

Summary: Walking a path full of Asters wasn’t so beautiful when Peter fell in love with another person.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader.

Warnings: Angst as fuck. I honestly cried while writing this.

Word Count: 1888

TAG YOURSELF

At the age of 5.

At the age of 5 was the first time she saw that beautiful lilac flower. It was at that age that she met Peter Parker, a humble and wonderful child who went to the same class.

She had realized that Peter used to be alone, even though he tried to get close to everyone. And, if she was honest, she had no interest in knowing Peter or any other child in her class. She liked being alone.

Until one day, Peter decided to approach her. He gave her some flowers that he said he had plucked from his aunt’s garden that morning. That was the first time Y/N had seen that kind of flower, and she was mesmerized with that pleasing colour. That day was also the first day of a lovely friendship that had been developed thanks to a flower.

"Asters," Peter spoke while giving her the flowers. "They're called Asters... They're from my aunt’s garden and I thought you'd like it.”

At the age of 9.

At the age of 9, everyone who knew Y/N and Peter couldn't deny that they had the best friendship they had ever seen. They walked hand in hand everywhere, spent school hours together and every day ate in one of their homes spent a lot of time at each other’s home. It was impossible to imagine them separately.

It wasn’t the first time that Peter had cried uncontrollably when Aunt May came to pick him up, saying that it was time to go home and that they would see each other the next day. It wasn’t the first time that May ended up letting Peter spend the night at Y/N’s after talking to her mother and concluding that it wouldn’t be easy to take them apart from each other.

Peter loved spending the nights at her house, reading stories, playing and laughing until her father asked them to go to sleep or the next day they would be pretty exhausted. Peter loved to sleep while holding his best friend’s hand, and sometimes, he would stay awake, looking at the window, where a small pot of Asters remained.

At the age of 13.

At the age of 13, some things changed for both. Although they were still inseparable and shared many likings, like their love for the Star Wars movie saga, other things stood in their way.

Both had grown and had experienced changes in their bodies because they were no longer children and were at that time of growth, a new phase. Both felt more embarrassed when realizing that their bodies were different and that hadn’t mattered when they were younger, but now it did.

Holding hands and being so tender wasn’t something they did in public in fear of what high school kids would say against them. But in the privacy of their houses, they were still just as affectionate, although this time a feeling of shyness was present.

It was at that same age that a new person had entered their lives, Ned. They both loved Ned in the same way, but Y/N felt that Peter was drifting away from her in a certain way. And she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous even though her mother had told her that it was completely normal for Peter to want to make friends of his own sex, although that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be her friend. She repeated to herself several times that she and Peter were best friends, hoping that those thoughts filled with jealousy would disappear.

Peter felt the same when Y/N became involved in the art club and became even more worried when she started hanging out with friends from the same club. Peter felt that they were drifting away, even though Ned told him that it was normal for Y/N to want friends of the same sex. Still, Peter felt a blow on his chest.

It would have been nice if Peter had contemplated the first free drawing she had created, a garden full of Asters.

At the age of 15.

At the age of 15, after the death of Y/N's father, Peter had spent the night at her house, hugging her tightly and whispering in her ear that he would be there for her forever.

It was then when it seemed that the room was decorated by thousands of small lights, because when Peter wiped the tears from her cheeks, he couldn’t help looking at her in another way, and for some reason, her lips seemed softer than ever.

She couldn’t stop staring at him, and she couldn’t believe she had a crush on her childhood friend for a year and a half.

That same night, their lips met in a short but delicate kiss that marked the end of a friendship that would become something more than a friendship. That night, Peter slept with her against his chest, hugging her tightly in hopes that no nightmare would visit her that night. He also decided that he would wait a couple of months until he told her that a week ago, Peter had been bitten by a spider and that had strange consequences on his body and abilities.

Peter closed his eyes, thinking that her sheets smelled like chamomile, Asters flowers.

At the age of 17.

At the age of 17, another person appeared in their lives, MJ.

Y/N felt odd because it had been a couple of years of a three-person friendship in which she was the only girl. And although at first, she felt a great relief to have another girl in the group, that feeling quickly vanished.

Peter seemed to have a great bond with MJ, from time to time cancelling some plan he had with her to be able to go out with MJ or help her with whatever she needed.

Y/N realized that Peter was no longer so lovey-dovey in front of Ned and MJ, he seemed to avoid it. He no longer grabbed her hand in the halls of high school if MJ was nearby, he didn’t put his hand on her thigh when they were in the cafeteria or kiss her before parting from her to go to a different class. This time, Peter went to his classes without looking back, and that hurt.

It was much worse that night of December when Y/N was walking to Peter's house, late at night. Fear seized her when she was attacked by a group of criminals who were trying to rob her.

She was safe thanks to Spiderman, the most famous superhero in Queens, who had saved her life. She started crying, thanking him and it didn’t take more than a few seconds when he hugged her tightly and when footsteps could be heard.

"Y/N?!" MJ's voice caused her to lift her head from Spiderman's chest. "I was with my father and I saw you and I thought it was too late for you to be alon-" Her words were cut off when she realized that Spiderman had saved her friend. "Peter?" It came out of her mouth. "My God, thank God, Peter saved you."

Y/N was very confused to hear the name of her boyfriend. She finally lifted her head to look at "Spiderman". MJ walked toward them, resting her hand on her shoulder. "Thankfully, your boyfriend is Spiderman." She chuckled.

Her hands trembled and she didn’t know if it was because she had been in danger or because of the words that were coming out of MJ's mouth. She let her hands lift Spiderman's mask, and just by seeing his chin and lower lip she knew that person was Peter. Peter Parker. Her boyfriend.

Peter took off his mask and bit his lower lip. "I can explain it to you..."

"You are Spiderman." She felt hurt. "When were you going to tell me? It's been years since Spiderman came to the spotlight! I'm your girlfriend Peter!"

MJ understood what was happening and murmured. "Damn."

Y/N looked at her for a few seconds and then looked at Peter sharply. "She knew it..." Tears filled her eyes. "She knew you were Spiderman, but I..."

"I couldn’t find the perfect moment to tell you."

"You didn’t find the perfect moment?" She felt angry. "It's been 2 years and you didn’t know what the perfect time was? Maybe you were too busy ignoring me!"

For some reason, in her mind those moments crossed in which Peter seemed to have a lot of confidence with MJ, and the comments of her friends telling her that they were sure Peter felt something for MJ as he didn’t stop flirting with her.

She rubbed her forehead. "Tell me something, Peter. Do you still love me?"

His eyes filled with tears as he ran one of his hands through his untidy curls. His eyes trembled and his gaze went to MJ. Then, he looked at Y/N once more. "I love you."

"But?" Her lips trembled.

"But it's not like that anymore. No...I can’t love two people the same way." His gaze returned to MJ.

She didn’t care about anything, she didn’t mind crying in a horrible way, convinced that the whole neighbourhood could hear her. And Peter just stood there, with his head bowed feeling guilty because he had lost those feelings of love as a couple that he had towards her. MJ was in the same position as him, feeling blameworthy because she felt the same as Peter felt for her.

That night Y/N couldn't sleep on her sheets, the smell that was commonly caused great pain in her chest. And she seemed to be a masochist when she decided to look for the meaning of Asters: known as a talisman of love.

Asters became hateful for her.

At the age of 24.

At the age of 24, she received a letter. She knew that letter was from Peter as he was the only one who would write a letter to her, and it wasn’t the first time he had done so.

Three months ago, he had sent an invitation wedding in hopes of seeing her after so many years where he still felt bad for breaking her heart. But for her own good, she had decided not to attend the wedding.

Furthermore, Peter thought that it would be a good idea to send pictures of his wedding. She smiled a little when she saw Ned with his girlfriend and May with Happy. But her smile faded when pictures of him and MJ came out. She felt torn because she still loved him. But she could observe how much love Peter had for MJ.

Her eyes filled with tears when she noticed the bouquet flowers that MJ grasped tightly, Asters.

Who would think that Asters weren’t their own thing?

TAGLIST:

@emilyackles // @supernaturallover2002 // @marvelismylifffe // @notimeforthemessenger // @og-baby-ob14 // @peter-parkers-pizza // @quackson-queen // @allofthebitters // @isthisnotit // @hollandandi // @lemondropirwin // @sellulii // @cherylbloxom // @theestrangeddreamer // @desir-ae // @gracelouisa // @vendylewin // @mischiefmanaged49 // @inthecornerchair // @marvelofawritersblock//@chingonaconcha // @its-the-unknownspidey // @calum-hoodwinked-me // @honeyyhuggs // @fallinallintom // @misysugarbee

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a-little-international · 6 years ago

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Stable (3)

Summary: Even Tom knows it’s a cliché for the stable hand to fall in love with the star rider.

Pairing: Tom Holland/OC

Warnings: petty and hormonal teenage boys

Words: 2,791

A/N: since moving back home, i’ve started riding again and honestly there’s a distinct lack of male stable hands in my age range which is UNACCEPTABLE and is the primary reason for reviving this fic.

The Series: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Wednesday rolled around much faster than Tom ever wanted it to, dreading having to spend the hours after school running after Harrison Osterfield and trying his best to avoid the topic of Ren. Knowing Harrison, that was unlikely, but he still held out hope. The only good thing about Wednesdays was that the last two hours were a double art class with his mum, and his best friend Jacob sitting by his side.

“Do you think they made out?” Jacob asked, pushing down on his lump of clay, “Like with tongues and everything?”

Tom slammed his chunk of clay on the table, grimacing at Jacob, “Can you shut up?” he replied, his voice hushed as he glanced up to see if his mother had overheard. “And I’m sure if they did it was with tongues, we’re not twelve anymore dude.”

“Yeah and it’s Osterfield, guy’s such a slimy bugger I bet he shoved it all the way down her throat,” Jacob carried on, sticking his tongue out as far as possible to demonstrate, adding slurping and gagging sounds for effect.

“Shut up,” Tom reiterated, clenching his hands into the clay at the thought of Harrison all over Ren. He was jealous, he knew he was and he knew it was a terrible thing to do and Ren didn’t owe him a second of her time, let alone her affection, but he just wished she wasn’t into Harrison of all people. He didn’t even want to know what the implication of them being at boarding school together meant - he’d heard plenty about the goings on between students at Saints and he tried to push Ren’s potential involvement with any of that as far out of his mind as he could possible manage.

As if Jacob could read his mind, he rambled on, “Do you think they’ve slept together?”

“Ugh, Jacob! Please!” Tom exclaimed, throwing his head back. He did not want to be thinking about this mere hours before having to look at Harrison all evening.

“You need to face the facts, Tom. They’re probably banging and she’s never going to look at you that way.”

“Ouch,” Tom pouted as he continued to squish the clay between his hands, in no way following his mother’s instructions.

“You have been pining over her for too long, my friend. This may actually be a good thing! You’ll be able to go off to University without having to dream forever more about the beautiful yet elusive Ren.”

“Not sure if I’m even going to Uni,” Tom sulked, tugging the sleeves of his uniform jumper higher up his elbows so they wouldn’t get too ruined.

“Well my point still stands, you can’t mope about for the rest of your life Thomas. Plenty of fish, and all that.”

Tom frowned at his friend, not loving where this conversation had headed when all he’d wanted was a pep talk for later. “You’re mister romantic, what happened? Since when are you so anti pursuing what could possibly be the love of your life?” he exclaimed, kneading down on his clay.

Jacob smirked as he leaned against the table, his blob of clay totally forgotten about. “Listen, I am all for pursuing the love of your life. I just want to posit that there may be more than one, and you’ve gotta let it go when you know you’ve been beaten. Plenty of fish, you hear me? You’ll find more success elsewhere, young padawan.”

“Fine, Obi,” Tom sighed, rolling his eyes, “but I don’t know that I’ve been beaten yet. We don’t know for sure that anything has ever happened between them and so I might still be in with a chance. She said I was her favourite on Saturday,” he added proudly, as if that proved anything.

Jacob snorted and returned to his clay, “Alright casanova, let me know how to that goes. But I’ll bet you five quid and the snickers at the bottom of my bag that you’ll find out plenty from Harrison this evening.”

“I’ll take you up on the fiver, but I don’t want anything to do with that rank snickers.”

“Suits me,” Jacob shrugged, shooting a grin at his best friend and Tom knew he was only trying to protect him from another round of heartache and pining. This sort of thing happened every few months, where Ren was concerned. She would say something, and Tom would completely misinterpret it and get his hopes up and nothing would happen and on the cycle would go.

“Boys, come on, less gossiping more creating!” Tom’s mother’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and he grinner up at her, desperately hoping she hadn’t overheard any part of their conversation. Knowing her, though, that seemed highly unlikely. He wondered if she would bring it up at dinner, or store it away for later referral. She winked back at him as she walked away, tapping her fingers against his desk. Tom dropped his head, groaning internally at the thought of having to discuss this with her later.

---

“Alright Tom, can you grab Skylark next please, Harrison’s just arrived and he’ll want to jump right up.” Called his dad from the barn doors, a bunch of polo mallets tucked under his arm.

“Daaaaad,” Tom groaned, throwing his head back as he pulled a face, “can’t I go get someone else? Literally anyone else, please,” he begged, approaching his dad.

Peering out at the courtyard he saw Harrison talking to his mother through the open car window as he pulled on his gloves, looking clean and tidy and expensive as ever. Tom scuffed his worn out boot tip against the flagstones.

Dominic Holland looked over his shoulder to give his son a stern look, one eyebrow raised. “Now Tom, you’ve got about three minutes to pick up that attitude and get Skylark out to the field.”

“Literally anyone else.” Tom repeated himself, his eyes practically begging his father to relent.

Mr. Holland was not to be moved or swayed. “Go, now. Please Tom.”

There was no winning, and Tom just hoped that Harrison would ignore him all evening.

Alas, he had no such luck, as the second Harrison rounded the corner to the polo field, his eyes were fixed on Tom and he could have sworn he saw the star player square his shoulders as he approached.

“Evening, Holland,” Harrison greeted curtly, swinging up onto his horse without a second’s hesitation, “good weather for a game, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Tom replied, just as stiffly as he handed the reins up to Harrison, “cracking weather.” He wondered why Harrison was talking to him about the weather at all, the fact that he had even acknowledged him without being forced to was just as unusual as it was suspicious. “Have a good rideout on Saturday?” Tom heard himself asking out loud, to his absolute horror. He tried his best not to make too much of a face as he glanced up at Harrison, who was fiddling with one of his stirrup leathers.

“Hmm?” Harrison hummed, not bothering to look at Tom, as he checked the new length of his stirrup, “Oh, with Florence?” he added, almost absentmindedly.

Tom bit down on his lip. If he had been talking to anyone else, it would have almost seemed like a normal, totally casual conversation. But it was exactly that normal, totally casual way in which Harrison spoke her name that felt like dig; like he was telling Tom how totally normal and casual it was for him to be spending time with her, when to Tom it was a treasured commodity.

All Tom could muster as a response was a nod of his head and an affirmative grunt.

If it hadn’t been for his impulsive question in the first place, he wouldn’t have to remain next to Harrison, painfully waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear. But there he was, standing next to the epitome of what he both always wanted to be and tried his best to never become, waiting for what felt like the inevitable blow that would break his heart.

“Oh it was rather good,” Harrison said, smirking at Tom as he shifted around in the saddle, his shoulders pushing back confidently. “Nice to get some one-on-one time with her, school can be pretty manic, you know how it is”.

That definitely felt like another dig, and Tom swallowed as he nodded up at Harrison unable to think of a properly. Of course he didn’t know how it was at school with them. Mayfield College was a world away from St. Augustine’s, even if it was just three miles down the road. He’d been inside the old brick walls of the boarding school a couple of times for various school events, and had visited the sprawling grounds more often than that for the occasional soccer match or to cheer on his school’s rugby team, but he couldn’t really begin to imagine what it was like going there. He’d definitely never have imagined it as manic.

“Anyway, hoping to get some proper one-on-one time with her this Saturday anyway,” Harrison continued smugly, winking at Tom suggestively, who had stuffed his balled fists so deep into the pockets of his jacket he was worried he might tear the fabric. “I’m sure you must have heard all about my party by now.”

Tom just glared up at Harrison, biting down on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like what Harrison was implying at all, and he certainly hadn’t heard of his stupid party and he was sure that Harrison knew that too. Another jab, just to be sure.

“Oh well, it really is just all Saints people anyway, so I suppose you mightn’t have heard after all,” Harrison shrugged, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth as he looked down his nose at Tom. “We’re never quite sure what trickles down to you lot at Mayfield,” he added, a smug grin spreading over his face as he urged his horse forward onto the field, without another glance back.

Tom looked over at his brother Sam, jaw dropped at Harrison’s comment. Sam was just sending another team member onto the field with a short wave when he looked over and frowned questioningly back at Tom.

“I hate him,” Tom grumbled as he stomped over to complain, hands still buried in his pockets, “so much.”

Sam rolled his eyes, looking around to see if anyone else needed any more help. “He’s really not that bad.”

“Hey, you’re meant to be on my side,” Tom replied, shooting a look at his brother before turning his attention to the riders on the field, who were all being handed their mallets by their trainer.

“It’s just an act, you know that right?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at Tom.

“Did you know about his party on Saturday?” Tom continued, choosing to completely ignore what his brother had just said, he was clearly delusional. “Ren is going to it apparently.”

“Good for her,” Sam chuckled, leaning back against the fence as the game started, horses racing past them and mallets swinging. Tom had already lost sight of the ball amongst the trampling of hooves.

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, watching as Harrison sharply turned his horse around to go barrelling down towards the other end of the field. And sure, it was good for her, he was glad she was being invited to parties and having fun and had what seemed to be a great group of friends from all accounts, he just really wished it wasn’t with Harrison. He knew he sounded like an entitled child and resented that feeling inside him, but he couldn’t help being so in love with her that every time she so much as looked his way his mouth ran dry. Being seventeen and in love was hard work.

---

Even dripping in sweat Harrison Osterfield looked good, and Tom made a mental note to add that to his list of things that bothered him about the preppy polo player.

Harrison held out his muddy mallet for Tom to take as he swung down off his horse, boots hitting the slightly soggy ground with a confident thud.

“Good game, Osterfield, good game,” Remy Hii, the team captain jeered, slapping Harrison on the shoulder with a big grin.

“All down to your stellar leadership, of course,” Harrison replied, tipping his helmet like he was some sort of nineteenth century gentleman. Tom rolled his eyes as he held up a bucket of water so Skylark could get a drink.

“See you on Saturday, yeah?” Tom heard Remy say as he walked away, his own horse in tow.

“Absolutely” Harrison replied, waving his gloved hand in salute. For a second, Tom wondered what it would be like to be in Harrison’s circle of friends, to actually be privy to invites and jockular exchanges, when he felt a firm had come down on his shoulder.

“You know, Holland, Florence was saying you’re gonna be her groom for the season,” Harrison said, his voice barely over a whisper, and a shiver of dread ran down Tom’s spine at the anticipation of an upcoming threat, “and I just to make sure that you know that if anything happens to her at all, I will be blaming you, so you better do a better job at checking the leather with her than you did with me.”

Tom frowned at him, feeling like he was missing the punchline of a joke. For one, he was entirely caught off guard by Harrison’s apparent protectiveness of Ren, and secondly he had no idea what leather he meant and what could possibly be wrong with it.

Harrison didn’t wait long to illuminate him as he lifted the upper skirt of the saddle to expose the top of the stirrup strap, where the stitching keeping it all together had almost entirely come apart and the leather had worn down so much that it almost seemed like a miracle that he hadn’t entirely lost his stirrup during the two hours of training.

Tom didn’t know what to say; with the level these people were riding at, a sudden loss of stirrup at the wrong moment could be fatal, and he had no idea how he’d missed it. He looked at Harrison, eyes wide, hoping he wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it or he’d be off the roster for the next two millennia and he could wave goodbye to ever getting to hang around Ren again.

“Now, I’m going to let this slide on the conditions that you fix this immediately,” Harrison said, voice low and holding one finger up to Tom like a stern parent, “you make sure my tack and horse are in proper riding condition from this moment forth so I never have to deal with your utter incompetence again,” he continued, holding up a second finger, “ and, that nothing even remotely like this happens to Ren or I will make your life so much worse than it already is,” he finished, holding up a rather menacing looking third finger. “Don’t test me.”

All Tom could do was nod, still totally caught off guard to Harrison’s attitude towards Ren. He’d always seemed like a slimy git and he was at least seventy five percent sure he was some kind of psychopath, but maybe Sam was right. But then again, maybe Sam was wrong and Harrison was just playing mind games with him and knew Tom’s weakness was always and forever going to be Ren, and the momentary reprieve in animosity he had felt for Harrison dissipated pretty swiftly.

“I’ll take Skylark in for you then,” Tom finally said after enough tense seconds had passed between them, taking the reins and making a move back towards the stables.

“Absolutely not,” Harrison hissed, snatching the reins right back, “I’ll leave the saddle on the bench in the tack room for you to fix, and mark my words: I’ll be checking every last stitch before I get on next time and if even one thing is out of place I will be informing your father of your sheer incompetence.

Tom watched as Harrison led Skylark away, the half empty water bucket still dangling from his fingertips, totally ignoring the other team members that were still bustling around that might be in need of some assistance.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, sidling up next to him with a dirty towel used for rubbing down the sweaty horses flung over his shoulder.

Tom pursed his lips and glanced over at his brother, “So, I almost killed Harrison Osterfield and then he threatened me.”

“Fair,” Harry shrugged casually, “but better luck next time.”

---

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added!)

@crownedbyluke @24kcalum @vnv21

#tom holland #Tom Holland fanfiction #Tom Holland fic #Tom Holland romance #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland angst #Harrison osterfield #Jacob batalon #Spiderman cast #marvel cast #Spiderman homecoming #Spiderman far from home #stable chapter 3 #c writes #my writing #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland blurb

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sunshinesteviee · 6 years ago

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friendsmas // tom holland

Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: just fluff, some swears Summary: tom can’t make it home for christmas, so you invite him to spend it with you Pairing: tom holland x reader A/N: hey, y’all! here’s part two to the mini christmas series! the first part is linked below in case you missed it. kate ( @amxliapond ) and i have a lot of shit going on so this probably won’t all be out before christmas, but hopefully it’ll be up in a decent amount of time. i hope you like it, and feedback is always appreciated!!!

Series Masterlist

Part One | Part Three

Zendaya’s annual Christmas party was in full swing, and unlike your first time attending her party, you felt much more comfortable there the second time around. Now, you were actually friends with her, Jacob, and Tom, and you didn’t feel the need to rely on your friend and her boyfriend anymore. Z had texted you to invite you as soon as she figured when the party was happening, and you immediately accepted the offer. Tom was also quick to text you after he found out, making sure that you knew about it, too.

Surprisingly, the person you’d grown closest to over the past year was Tom. After you’d replied to his text the next morning after the last party, the two of you sparked up a conversation that basically never ended. He replied to you as often as he could, even with his insanely busy schedule. It seemed as though he’d taken your drunken “you are officially my best friends now” to heart, and was determined to get to know you. You’d also managed to hang out with him, Zendaya, and Jacob a few times throughout the year, so it wasn’t really a surprise to you when you got the text from Tom, but it still made you so happy to see his name pop up on the screen.

Anyhow, with your first beer in hand, you wandered off to find your friends to keep you entertained. It didn’t take long, though, as you literally ran into Tom as you walked out of the kitchen as he made his way in.

“Whoa!” he laughed loudly as his arms shot out, grabbing onto your shoulders to steady you, “Hey, Y/N. Nice to run into you.”

Your eyes rolled back, but you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you glanced up at the boy, “Hey, Tom. Good to see you. Too bad you can’t see where you’re going, though.”

Tom only laughed, grabbing his own beer before leading you back out to where everyone else was. Harrison - Tom’s best friend who had been too drunk to play beer pong last year - and Jacob were sitting on a couch, with Zendaya off somewhere else, being a good host. You nodded to the other boys before taking a seat next to Tom, feeling most comfortable with him. He bumped his arm into yours as you took your place next to him, giving you one of his dazzling grins before taking a sip of his beer.

After catching up with the boys a bit, the topic turned to everyone’s plans for Christmas. Jacob was going to be spending it with his family, and Harrison was flying home to be with his family as well. “What about you, Tom?” you asked, turning to face him as you asked the question.

His lips pursed slightly, shoulders shrugging as he sighed, “Probably nothing. Can’t go home to be with my family, I don’t have enough time off.”

Your face fell at his admission, lips turning into a frown as you placed your hand on his forearm, “Tom, you can’t spend Christmas by yourself.”

“No, no, it’s okay, honestly.”

“No, it’s not. Come with me to my friend’s get together. My family typically celebrates before Christmas Day, so I usually get together with some friends and we go to the Christmas festival near my hometown. There’s an ice rink and rides and stuff, it’s a lot of fun.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Tom shrugged, “I don’t want to intrude.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Don’t be silly. Everyone will love you. You have to come.”

Tom’s eyes darted away from yours as he took a moment to think, before glancing back at you, giving you a small nod, “Yeah, okay. I’ll come with.”

From the other side of the couch, you could hear Jacob grumbling something about how he’d invited Tom to his family’s, but Tom had declined that invitation. You could see the soft blush rise on Tom’s cheeks as he elbowed Jacob in an attempt to get him to stop.

Christmas Day had finally come, and you were more excited than ever to celebrate with your friends, now that you were bringing Tom with you. You’d let your friends know ahead of time that you were bringing Tom with you because you knew that some of them would be weird about having “a celebrity” there without prior notice. Either way, everyone was excited for him to come, and it seemed as if Tom was excited, too. The day before, he was texting you nonstop, asking you what he should wear, if he should bring anything… on and on and on. Honestly, it was kind of cute how nervous he was, even though you’d told him several times that he didn’t need to be.

When you picked him up, he got into your car, giving you a half smile and buckling his seatbelt. The smile didn’t quite seem genuine, and you frowned, turning towards him before starting the car again, “You okay, Tom?”

Turning to you, he shrugged, giving you another somewhat sad smile, “Yeah, ‘m fine. Was just talking to my family before you got here. Just kinda wish I was with them.” He sighed again, glancing up from his lap to you, his eyes widening slightly as he stuttered out, “N-not that I don’t want to be with you, I do, I just-“

Laughing a little, you shook your head and reached over the center console to rest it on Tom’s arm, “No, I get it. I’m sorry you’re not with them. But I’ll make sure you have fun, yeah?”

He lifted his hand and placed it over yours, giving your hand a squeeze as a wide smile finally found its way to his lips, “Yeah, thanks, love. I am excited, honest.”

You and Tom were the last ones to arrive, and it was clear that they were all getting antsy - both to meet Tom, and get started with all of the food and games available. Your friends were acting a little weirder than normal in front of Tom, but overall they were doing a pretty good job of keeping it together as you introduced him to them. Before you got to know Tom, you felt the same way. He’s fucking Spider-Man, for god’s sake. However, you’d quickly come to realize that he was a genuine, real, and funny guy, who just so happened to land one of the best roles possible.

Per tradition, ice skating was first on the list. You’d only been skating a few times, and you pretty terrible at it, but you were curious to see how Tom would do. After renting a pair of skates, you found a bench to sit down on, leaning over to take off your shoes. Tom sat down next to you, doing the same and lacing up his skates, “Have you been before?”

A snort came out of your mouth as you turned your head to look at Tom, “Skating? Yeah, we do it every year when we’re here. Not exactly great at it, though. What about you? Are you any good”

His shoulders lifted into a shrug, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip, “Yeah, I’ve been. I’m okay, I suppose.”

Tom’s ‘I’m okay’ was severely understated, and that was evident as you both stepped out on the ice. You immediately almost slipped and immediately went to the railing that went around the rink, while Tom glided past you. Evidently, Tom thought that you would keep up with him, and as soon as he realized you were several feet behind him, he clapped his hand over his mouth to hold back a laugh as he made his way back towards you, “Oh, god. You really aren’t good at it, are you, love?”

Letting out a huff, you pushed your bottom lip out into a pout, “Don’t make fun of me! I’m trying! What about you, huh?! You said you were okay, but you’re out here skating like a pro!”

Stumbling on the ice a bit, your arms went out to brace yourself for the fall, but Tom was quick to reach out and catch you, pulling you in closer to him to steady you, “Well, ‘ve been a few times at home… we go almost every year. I’ll help you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, taking Tom’s outstretched hand in yours, “thanks.”

A few of your friends who had always been much better than you skated by and your best friend gave you a knowing look. Though it was cold out, you could feel the heat on your cheeks rise, letting out an indignant huff.

Tom just laughed again, thinking that you were frustrated with the skating, “Here, try this.” He let go of your hand for a moment as he showed you an easy way to skate. After he’d shown you, he grabbed your hand in his once more, holding you tightly as you tried to mimic what he’d shown you. “There you go, love!” he cheered as you started to get the hang of it.

He tried to let go of your hand as you seemed to be feeling more confident in your skating abilities, but you quickly shook your head, grabbing for his hand again, “No! Don’t leave me, I’ll fall flat on my face if you’re not holding my hand, I’m sure of it.”

His head tipped back as he laughed and you couldn’t help but admire his bright smile and the way the corners of his crinkled. Tom looked back at you, taking your hand into his again, “Okay, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got ya.”

It didn’t take long before the skating got old for you, so you convinced your friend group to go get some food and play some of the games on the festival grounds. Though Tom seemed to get along with everyone in the group, he refused to leave your side. If you went off to go get a certain food, he followed steps behind you. He wasn’t exactly the shy type, so it confused you a bit, but you certainly weren’t going to complain. Tom was one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you could feel your heartstrings tug every time he looked at you. You were falling for him, even though you knew you probably shouldn’t be.

“Anyone want hot chocolate?” you asked the group as soon as your skates came off. After a chorus of yeses, it was evident that the next stop would be the small hot chocolate stand.

Standing in line for the drink, you bumped your shoulder into Tom’s tilting your head back to look up at him, “This is genuinely the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.” A questioning look found its way to Tom’s face and you laughed, shaking your head, “No, no. Trust me. It’s amazing.”

Minutes later, steaming cups of hot chocolate were pressed between your frozen palms, and though you wanted to take a big sip, you wanted to see Tom’s reaction first. Holding the cup up to your face to let the steam warm you up a little, you watched Tom carefully as he took a small sip, not wanting to burn himself. Immediately, he almost let out a moan, his eyes going wide, “…holy shit.”

“I told you!” you exclaimed, going in for your sip of cocoa.

Hot chocolates still in one hand, you reached for Tom’s hand with your free hand, dragging him away from your friends as you spotted a game that you wanted to play. You paid for the game and handed your drink to Tom, who had an amused expression on his face. “What?” you asked, raising your eyebrows, “I really want that bear!” You pointed to the huge stuffed bear hanging on the wall behind the game.

“Okay, good luck with that, Y/N. These games are rigged.”

The guy behind the counter gave Tom an annoyed look and let out a loud huff, but gave you the balls to throw at the bottles set up a few feet behind the counter. A few attempts later, you’d spent a lot of money, and had managed to not win anything.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you took your drink back from Tom, “That was a bust. Oh well. Wanna go on the carousel instead?”

Later that night after the sun had set, it was starting to get even colder as the Christmas lights lining the perimeter of the festival came to life. Just as you were getting ready to leave and say goodbye to all of your friends, Tom suddenly pulled away with a mumble of, “Be right back,” and no other explanation.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him disappear, making you wonder if he’d forgotten something somewhere. As you turned back to your friends, you sighed at their expressions as they quickly questioned, “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” you exclaimed quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, as they raised their eyebrows, clearly not believing you. You shook your head, “Honestly, nothing. We’re just friends. He couldn’t go home and I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Yeah,” your friend countered, “but you like him, don’t you? I think he likes you.”

Something between a laugh and a scoff came out of your mouth, but before you could argue any further with them, Tom came up again, huge teddy bear in his arms. A grin that you couldn’t help spread across your lips, “Tom, oh my god! You didn’t have to do that!”

You weren’t sure if it was the cold, but you could see the pink rise on his cheeks as he handed the bear to you, “It was nothing, honestly.” He shrugged his shoulders a little, giving you a half smile, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

As you pulled up in front of the place Tom was staying, you put the car in park and turned to the boy sitting in the seat next to you. You gave him another huge smile, a happy sigh falling past your lips, “Thank you again, Tom. You really didn’t have to get that for me.”

“No worries, love,” he murmured, his own smile growing on his lips, “Thanks for bringing me with. I had a great time with you.”

This time, it was your cheeks that filled with heat as you quickly tore your gaze from Tom’s, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “Of course, Tom. I loved spending time with you. I’ll see you soon, right?”

Tom unbuckled his seatbelt, nodding enthusiastically, “Of course, love.” He opened the door, but just before he could step out of the car, he leaned back in and towards you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, setting your cheeks on fire, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

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