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[effloradox]

just popping in to say I met Mat Baynton the other night and I am still reeling from that 😭🙏

I just started watching BBC Ghosts and I'm enamoured with Thomas so I'm gonna add him to my writing list, if anyone has any requests or thinks he'd suit any of the prompts I reblogged the other week feel free to send me a message 🙏

[effloradox]

Is there somewhere that I can see if your requests are open or not? (Im sorry if there is and I didn't see it I might be blind)

I think it says on my inbox but I have no idea if that shows up anywhere except on desktop so I just added it to my pinned post and they are currently open!

[effloradox]

Your thomas thorne stuff is great. Do you have any more lined up?

Anyone fancy a bit of angst?

Warnings: Thomas' death, mention of gunshots, slight divergence of canon

You're not accustomed to being awake before the sun has risen. You're not naturally inclined to early mornings, much more content to wake up long after the sun has risen, so it's with a level of discomfort that you realise how early it is that you've woken up. It's still dark outside from what you can tell and you tempted to turn over and fall back asleep. It's only when your eye catches sight of a letter slipped under your bedroom door that you decide to get up to see what it is.

You recognise the handwriting as being Thomas' and it brings a smile to your face almost instantly. Thinking it to be a new poem you eagerly turn the letter over in your hand, breaking the wax seal and releasing it from its envelope. The first thought you have is that it must be a very short poem as it only has two lines.

I love you dearly.

Should something happen to me, I'm terribly sorry.

You go still as you process the words. You feel your stomach drop as anxiety builds in your chest. It's all you can do to get dressed as quickly as possible, heading out of your room and downstairs as soon as you're decent.

The next sign that something is very wrong is when you spot Isabelle walking into one of the drawing rooms. She's never been seen awake before sunrise either and you're quick to follow her into the room.

"Where's Thomas?" Any pleasantries she was about to say die on Isabelle's tongue as she takes in your disheveled state. It's early, too early for you to be awake, and she had hoped to avoid you completely for the next few hours.

"I- I'm not sure." You know she's lying to you. Can feel something in your chest telling you that your friend is concealing the truth from you.

"Isabelle, please." You watch your friend closely, waiting for her to speak again.

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, startling you and Isabelle. You're no fool, you see the way your friend's eyes dart towards the window in the aftermath of the shot. You waste no time hurrying to the window, your eyes scanning for any signs of your missing betrothed.

Your heart stops when you see him, leaning against the base of a tree looking paler than could ever be considered healthy. The next few moments dissappear in a blur as you move without thinking, running out the front door.

"Thomas!" Despite it all, his face lights up when he sees you running towards him. He tries to lift himself to his feet, but his face crumbles into a grimace as pain shoots through him at the movement, and he manoeuvres himself back to resting against the tree.

"My love, you shouldn’t be out on a day like this, you might catch a chill." You're about to make a comment about how he's more likely to catch a chill in just a shirt and waistcoat when you look down and something crimson catches your eye. It's with growing horror that you spot the bloodstain blossoming over his waistcoat.

"What happened?"

"My cousin thought it appropriate to besmirch your reputation in my presence. He had to be held accountable."

"Thomas."

"My cousin is better than me in almost every way, I accepted that a long time ago. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you to him though."

"I belong to you, don't you realise that? My heart is bleeding in your hands, Thomas." You take his hand in yours, pressing it to your chest. You feel like your heart is fluttering like a hummingbird, and part of you prays that he can't tell how much you're panicking as blood continues to stain his clothes.

"I believe it is actually my heart bleeding right now." He winces slightly as another wave of pain passes over him, his grip on your hand tightening.

It's with growing agony that you see his focus on you start to slip away as his breathing speeds up. His breaths are erratic and inconsistent, and a horrible part of you knows that the man you love is going to die in front of you.

You make sure to keep squeezing his hand, muttering sweet nothings and gentle words under your breath to him until his breathing starts to quieten. You'll be damned if you don't make sure he knows just how much you love him in these final moments of his life.

The first tears start to fall when he finally goes quiet, and then all at once, it's like the dam breaks. The shock gives way to anguish as the morning's events finally settle into your mind.

The dawn begins to break over the two of you as you cradle him into your chest, the only sounds your broken sobs and the quiet birdsong in the distance.

[effloradox]

fic masterlist

i’ve a nagging fear someone else is pulling at the strings

↳ chase brody x iris!reader

picture me in the trees

↳ paul atreides x betrothed!reader, fluff

kind is my love today

↳ thomas thorne x ghost!reader, fluff, requested

what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

↳ thomas thorne x ghosthunter!reader, fem!reader

don’t let the dreamer get lonely

↳ thomas thorne x ghost!reader, requested

stop dreaming of the quiet life (it’s one we’ll never know)

↳ ariel conroy x reader, prompt: you shouldn’t be out here by yourself

[effloradox]

stop dreaming of the quiet life (it’s one we’ll never know)

I am not immune to Mat Baynton’s good looks even when he’s playing a cyberterrorist I’m afraid 🫡 also y'know I love a man who I'd forget my morals for and Ariel is,, filling that brief

Pairing: Ariel Conroy x Reader

Prompt: “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

Warnings: It’s Ariel so it’s not the healthiest of relationships, (sort of) choking, manipulation, (sort of) toxic relationship (Reader loves Ariel and is there by choice but y'know he's not the most upstanding of guys), takes place just before canon

-

It’s a beautiful evening. It’s something you can really appreciate out here in the middle of nowhere, where the stars shine brighter than you can ever recall seeing them back home. New Mexico hadn’t been somewhere high on your travel list initially but now you’re here it is nice to take a moment to appreciate it. Things have been so hectic recently that it’s almost nice to have a moment to yourself. You've certainly stayed in worse safe houses.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” Ariel’s voice cuts through the silence of the night and you can tell he’s partially annoyed at you. You know he hates not knowing exactly where you are at any given moment, especially when he’s been busy working and away from the safe house. You’d taken to carrying your laptop around with you for the past few days since you know he can always watch you through it so he knows you’re safe, occasionally waving or blowing a kiss in its general direction to keep yourself entertained.

“If you checked the cameras you would’ve seen me straight away.” You’d chosen your spot on the grass carefully, making sure that you were visible on two different cameras aimed at the exterior of the house but he clearly hadn’t checked. He wasn’t due back for another day or two, though you can’t say you’re surprised he’s here. He’s never liked leaving you by yourself for long. Not that you blame him. Being a wanted cyberterrorist isn’t exactly the safest job in the world.

You can hear the soft padding of shoes on grass as he walks towards you, only stopping when he finally appears in your line of sight. He won’t join you on the artificial grass, too many germs, but he extends a gloved hand to you to help pull you to your feet. Once you’re on your feet he pulls you into him, one hand resting lightly on the back of your neck as the other keeps you snug against him.

“We’ll be going again in a few hours. Max is getting the van ready so we can go before sunrise.” You let out a soft hum at his words, your arms moving to his waist so you can hug him back.

“I’ll miss you.” He pulls away from you after you speak, dark eyes conveying an emotion you can’t quite place.

“You’re coming with us.” You frown at that, confusion swarming your mind.

“Why?” The question slips out without you meaning for it to, and you wince slightly at the displeased frown that appears on Ariel’s face. You don’t mean to doubt him but after two years of him keeping you far from any Deus Ex activities it’s hard to understand why he’s bringing you along to a prison break of all things.

“You’re safer there with me than here by yourself.” Despite everything, you believe that. Ariel can be a vicious man if the right situation arises, and he wouldn’t put you into a dangerous situation if he wasn’t prepared to handle it personally. “Unless you don’t trust me to keep you safe.”

When you don’t speak, his expression darkens and the hand on your neck begins to add pressure as he squeezes it. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you need to choose your next words carefully. The last thing you want is to upset him when he’s only just come home.

It used to bother you when he acted like this, but after a few years you understand the man in front of you almost as well as you understand yourself. He’s a man who’s been cast aside and betrayed by people he should've been able to trust a lot in his life. In these moments all he’s searching for is reassurance that you won’t hurt him the way everyone else in his life has. Over time that’s a skill you’ve honed quite well.

“You know I trust you with my life Ariel.” When you answer him, you do your best to maintain eye contact to show that you’re being sincere. Whatever he wants from you, you seem to fulfil as the pressure on your neck is removed, and he leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead.

"I do." When he moves away from you, you close the gap once again to press a kiss softly on his lips.

“I’ll go pack my things, yeah?"

[effloradox]

Oh that Thomas request with a forehead kiss was so cute. Could I pretty please request one where the reader and thomas start a relationship as ghosts and are super cute together. But most of the other ghosts just don't get it? They catch them holding hands or cuddling and the other ghosts just tease them until they finally realise how good thomas and the reader are for each other - 🌸 anon

don’t let the dreamer get lonely

This was such a cute request!! I hope you like it <3

Thomas Thorne x Ghost!Reader

You would think that after knowing someone for almost a decade that your fellow ghosts would be more observant to changes in your daily behaviour. Part of you is convinced that they have noticed and are just messing with you but deep down you know that most of them don't have the tact to do such a thing, especially Pat and Kitty. It can't be hard to miss all the adoring looks Thomas sends you, or spot the two of you when you go for your daily stroll to the lake for a moment of shared peace but the true nature of your relationship seems to have eluded most of your acquaintances.

The ones who know have been fairly upfront about possessing such information, you probably shouldn't have been overly surprised that Julian had been the first to work it out. Whilst you'd initially written the disgraced politician off as a crude fool, he didn't get to be as successful as he was without the eye for detail he obviously possesses. He'd been surprisingly happy to keep your little secret as long as it benefitted him every so often and to keep some semblance of normality you didn’t mind occasionally doing his bidding.

It’s not that you wanted to keep your relationship a secret per-se, it’s just been an enjoyable experience running around like teenagers in love. Thomas had been so bashful in the first few years when approached with any level of physical affection that it had taken months for him to even ask to hold your hand. Dating and courting rituals have changed so drastically since Thomas was alive that you knew the process of going from friends to dating would take a while but it had to move at a pace you were both completely comfortable with.

It doesn’t help that most of your fellow ghosts are quick to tease you and Thomas if you’re seen so much as holding hands. You’ve had more than one argument with Fanny over the implications that come with holding hands, since she can’t imagine a world where doing so without wedding rings is anything less than a cardinal sin. It’s almost fun to wave your entwined hands in front of her in the beginning, just to take delight in her mortified reactions.

It’s only when Pat almost walks in on a private moment that the cat is finally out of the bag about the two of you. He’d been on his way to his room when he’d overheard a loud laugh from one of the drawing rooms, immediately attracting his attention. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really, but it wasn’t hard to recognise your laugh and he wanted to know the cause of it. It’s only when he hears a quiet exchanging of words that it occurs to him that this isn’t the kind of conversation he can just walk into.

“You know, I think you were sent for me.” The way you speak is soft, like you're afraid speaking any louder would break whatever bubble you've found yourself in and it peaks the scoutmaster’s curiosity.

“You flatter me with your words.” Pat isn't particularly surprised to find out that Thomas was the source of your joy, the two of you are very close after all. But he's never heard you speak to anyone like that and he can't help his curiosity so the scoutmaster inches closer to the half-open door so he can continue listening.

“I'm serious Thomas.” The room goes quiet and Pat is almost afraid that the two of you know he's there and that’s why you've stopped talking. It's only when Thomas speaks encouragingly to you that he stops worrying about being caught.

“Go on my darling.”

“I remember when I was a kid I saw a shooting star on a camping trip to the lakes. My parents told me that I should make a wish and if no one else wished on that star then it would come true. Silly really, hundreds of people must have seen it, but when I wished and they told me it would come true I believed them.”

“And what did you wish for?”

“True love. It took a while, but I'm so glad you're my wish come true.”

“Your words put my poetry to shame my love.”

It's only when Pat hears a noise from somewhere in the house that he comes back to himself. He bolts away from the room, heading to where most of the other ghosts had congregated for Lady Button's etiquette lesson. Even Allison had joined for this lesson, mainly because Kitty refused to leave her alone about it. In his mind, Pat has an eloquent way of explaining what he's just found out but it all goes out the window as soon as everyone's eyes are on him.

“Thomas and (Y/N) are dating!” The room explodes into a series of confused and surprised exclamations, with only two ghosts remaining silent. Allison is the only person to notice that the politician sitting across from her has not changed his facial expression since before Pat ran in. If anything, Julian almost seemed bored by the revelation.

“Julian, you don't look surprised?” The ghost in question crosses his arms across his chest, leaning back against the couch he's resting on.

“Well they've been pretty obvious about it, if you ask me. I worked it out months ago.” The politician's expression settles into a smug smile as finishes speaking. Alison can't resist the urge to roll her eyes at his smugness, not all that surprised that he’s kept the information to himself. She doesn’t doubt that he’s used that information for personal gain either.

The other ghost that remained silent has still not spoken. Alison knows how close you and the Captain are, so it's more surprising that he hasn’t reacted to the idea of you secretly dating one of the other ghosts right under his nose.

“Cap?” The ghost in question seems to come back to himself at Alison’s gentle prodding, straightening up and clearing his throat. A hush falls over the room as the Captain speaks.

“He came to me about a year ago asking me for my blessing for him to begin dating (Y/N). Said it wouldn't feel right if he didn't ask the closest thing she has to a father figure. I of course said yes once he made his intentions clear, and they seem to be very happy.” At the news of the couple receiving the Captain’s blessing, most of the other ghosts seem to settle into the news, murmuring compliments about the two ghosts.

“I always thought they’d be sweet together. Just thought Thomas was too reserved to ever make a move.” Julian laughs at that, redirecting the attention of everyone in the room back to him.

“He looks at her like she hung the bloody moon. I dread to think of how much poetry he’s written about her.” Alison lets out an involuntary groan at the idea.

“As long as he doesn’t subject us to it at his next poetry lesson he can be as poetic as he wants.”

In the days that follow it becomes apparent to all the residents of Button House just how in love the newly revealed couple are. The most surprising thing to them is how it took them all so long to notice. Subtlety is not in Thomas’ nature, and Julian was correct in saying that he looks at his partner like she hung the moon. It’s sweet really, and the others make sure to start giving you space to be alone together.

[effloradox]

picture me in the trees

Behold a quick Paul Atreides fic written whilst I rewatched Dune. This is potentially bridging the gap of me not writing for Timothée and me writing for his Wonka 😔✊️

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Betrothed!Reader

Word Count: 1k

There's a soft knock at your door. It had been silent in your room aside from your soft breathing and the occasional page turning from the book in your lap so the intrusion to your peace had caught your attention immediately. You waited for the door handle to turn, for one of the many servants to announce their presence before entering, and you're puzzled as to why whoever knocked has not announced their presence. It's peaked your curiosity though, and you rise off your bed, careful to place your bookmark back in its place.

"Hello?" It's almost eerily silent as you make your way towards the door. It's only when you're a few steps away from the door that you hear a voice from the corridor.

"It's Paul." Relief instantly floods your body. You hadn't expected to see him today, his father had encouraged him to attend some of the meetings he had arranged and the Lady Jessica had told you not to expect to see much of Paul for the first few weeks of your transition to Arrakis.

"You could have come in, you didn't have to wait." You know Paul will never heed your words. He's far too polite to walk into your room without asking your permission first, but you feel the need to tell him everything you find him at your chamber doors.

"I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" A quick scan of Paul doesn't show any sign of it being a physical surprise. His hands are clasped together in front of him and they seem to be empty. You look to his face to try and spot any sort of clue but his only response is to smile softly at you.

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I trust you." Paul's hands move from his front as one falls to his side. The other rises in front of you as he opens his hand to you.

"Allow me to put this on?" In his outstretched hand is a piece of silk. You know he means to use it as a blindfold on you and, whilst it sends a flicker of fear down your spine, you trust him so implicitly that it's all you can do to nod gently. He makes quick work of putting it on, being particularly careful when he ties it.

"It's not too tight is it?" You can't help but smile fondly at the concern in his tone. Even after years of friendship and a year of being publicly betrothed, Paul still treats you as though you are made of something fragile. It's sweet of him.

"Paul it's fine." You listen as he steps around you, one hand rising to rest on your waist. He's careful when he encourages you to move forwards, stopping you after a few steps to close the door behind you before continuing to guide you through the palace. If he had done so in your old home you would've known where he was taking you but as it was you were completely clueless as to where he might be guiding you to.

It's only after what feels like the hundredth left turn that you decide to speak. "How much further?"

"Not long now." You can hear the amusement in his voice when he replies to you. True to his word though, after another few turns he stops moving to open a door in front of you. Another few steps and you're inside a room with him closing the door behind you.

"Can I take the blindfold off?"

"You can." You're almost nervous to do so but your fingers find the knot on the back of your head and your quick to untie it. You're not sure what you expected to find when you took the blindfold off but a room full of plants was definitely not in the realm of possibility.

You'd accepted that your position in life as the betrothed of the son of a Duke meant that you would be relocated alongside Paul and the rest of House Atreides as the Emperor saw fit but you had taken the news of leaving Caladan hard.

Caladan was your home. It had been difficult moving from a planet with such a rich ecosystem to a desert planet like Arrakis. You had done so without complaint as was expected of you but it had lowered your spirits in recent weeks. You thought you'd managed to hide your discomfort well, but you should've known how observant Paul was when it came to your wellbeing.

You find tears welling up in your eyes as you take in the room in front of you. The room is full of lush greenery, with a variety of plants you both recognise and have never seen before. None of them could be native to the planet, it's a much too harsh environment to support any of the ferns and shrubs surrounding you. The only conclusion you can draw is that Paul had all these plants imported for you. The notion sends a wave of affection through you as you finally turn to face him.

"I know this transition has not been easy on you. I wanted to do something to ease your homesickness."

"You did all this for me?" Paul turns bashful for a moment as though it hadn't occurred to him how well this gesture would be taken.

"I care deeply for you. I know it was not my choice to bring us to this planet but I hold some responsibility for the impact it has had on you. I wanted to help in any way I could." You turn away from him for a moment and run your hand over the closest fern to you. The feeling of it makes you close your eyes as it takes you back to the days you spent in the forests on Caladan.

"How is it you always know what I need?"

"You are my betrothed. It is my duty to know what you need and provide it." You feel him approach you from behind as he takes one of your hands in his.

"Thank you, Paul." You squeeze his hand gently, smiling as he returns the gesture.

"You're welcome."

[effloradox]

what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)

synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost

a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt

-

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.

It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.

Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.

It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.

“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.

“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.

“This is your house?”

“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”

“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”

“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.

“It pays the bills.”

You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.

Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.

It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.

It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.

“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”

As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.

You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.

It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Okay?”

“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.

“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.

“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.

“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.

“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.

“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”

“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I can see them too.”

“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.

“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”

“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.

“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.

“Does your boss know?”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”

“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.

“How many have you got?”

“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.

“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”

“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.

“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.

“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.

“(Y/N).” You supply.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.

[effloradox]

Forehead kisses with Thomas Thorne?

I am not immune to the urge to give this man a kiss on the forehead 🥺

Also I combined this with a request asking for Thomas with the prompt ‘I thought you’d like some company’, I think it fit quite well!

Life in Button House was almost always the same no matter the day. You’d only been a resident of the house for a few years after a rather nasty accident on the grounds but you tried to make the best of your living situation (if you’ll excuse the obvious flaws with the expression). The other residents had been quick to welcome you into their daily routines and with time you got used to everyone’s quirks. Eventually you could ignore Lady Button screaming as she fell out of a window every night and you got used to things like Julian’s crassness and Kitty’s eagerness.

You hadn’t believed in life after death in your previous life so the last thing you’d expected was to fall in love during your unexpected afterlife. Thomas had been so shy when you first died; he’d barely been able to string a sentence together in your presence, so different from the poet that waxed lyrically every moment he was able to that you’re used to now. You’d managed to do many things during your life but true love seemed to have evaded you until after your death. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall in love with Thomas, and it had taken him even less time. Waking up next to him had become part of your daily routine so easily that you now couldn’t imagine him not being there with you every morning.

Things hadn’t changed much in the weeks since Heather passed until a new car had pulled up on the driveway of the house, and with it some new living residents. The new owners had put most of the others on edge though, that much was clear. You’d overheard some of their plans for the house and they made a lot of sense to you, some of them had been things you’d briefly mentioned before you’d died; but to some of the others the suggestions had been an affront. Thomas had seemed particularly upset about the mention that the library be repurposed into a recreation room; he'd disappeared not long after hearing that.

You’d given Thomas his space initially but after a few hours without his presence you’d set about looking for him. You’d checked all his usual haunts, leaving his sighing place until last in the hopes that his mood hadn’t dropped to that resort. You weren’t particularly surprised to find him there if you were being honest with yourself but it pained you to know that it was troubling him to that extent. You poked your head through the door, watching him for a moment before stepping through the door. You’d been about to announce your presence when the man in question had turned quite unexpectedly, letting out a small shriek when he spotted you.

“Good lord!”

“Sorry!” His expression softened towards you once he’d calmed down, panic no longer evident on his face.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I thought you’d like some company?”

“From you? Always, my love.” You appeared at his side in an instant, his arm wrapping around your waist automatically. It doesn’t take long until you’re settled in his lap, both of you watching the new residents moving things out of their car.

“The others have a plan to try and scare the new owners away.” Thomas let out a soft noise to acknowledge your comment, his eyes still trained on the new couple. “Julian’s practising moving things with his ability to see if he can unnerve them.”

“And you?”

You hadn’t thought much of your phone being on your person when you died, whilst you still have it it’s not like you can use it for much. Just making notes, taking scenic pictures, and playing the few games you had downloaded that work without an internet connection. What it had left you with was an ability similar to Robin’s wherein you could mess with electronic devices to a certain degree. It would definitely be a useful skill if you decided you wanted the couple gone. You'd heard Julian mention it when they’d been plotting to scare the living away and it had been part of why you left to go and find Thomas.

“I understand why them being here upsets some of the others, and that some of their plans have upset you. But, I don’t think it’s such a bad thing. Wouldn’t it be nice if they did make the house look good again?”

“I suppose.” You can hear the uncertainty in Thomas’ tone and it’s all you can do to press a soft kiss to his forehead. The effect is instantaneous as you practically felt the tension seep out of his body, the frown lines you'd kissed disappearing in seconds. The two of you remain on the windowsill until you hear Julian shouting your name from somewhere in the house, no doubt to enlist you into trying to scare the new couple. You begrudgingly lift yourself from Thomas’ lap, taking one of his hands in yours as you move to walk towards the door.

“Come with me?” You can see in his eyes that he doesn’t want to, but he stands anyway and you can’t resist the urge to lift your entwined hands to place a kiss on his hand. The tender gesture turns him bashful as he struggles to make eye contact with you. It takes a moment for him to compose himself and you watch as he seems to steel himself before he speaks.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend upon the hours, and times of your desire?” It takes you a moment to place his words, you’re sure you’ve heard them before and it takes your brain a few seconds to connect them to who wrote them.

“Shakespeare?” You know you’ve guessed correctly when Thomas’ face lights up like the sun. His smile is one of your favourite things about him, it never fails to make your heart flutter and this time is no exception.

“Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind; still constant in a wondrous excellence.” It’s Thomas’ turn to lift your hands as he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Nothing good can last forever though. The moment is ruined when you hear a frustrated sounding Julian shouting your name once again, only this time he sounds infinitely closer. You can’t help but sigh with frustration at the interruption.

“Let’s go and find the others shall we?”

“Lead the way my dear.”

[effloradox]

I just started watching BBC Ghosts and I'm enamoured with Thomas so I'm gonna add him to my writing list, if anyone has any requests or thinks he'd suit any of the prompts I reblogged the other week feel free to send me a message 🙏

[effloradox]

“Just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new” with Steve Harrington?

"Just a few more stitches and you'll be good as new." You try to keep your tone light as you inspect the half-stitched cut that stretches across Steve's chin despite how worried you are about him. It's been a while since he got into a fight but something about Billy Hargrove brings out this side of him. This isn't the first time you've had to stitch your boyfriend up, and it definitely won't be the last if your little ragtag team keep getting mischief. In a way it's something of a relief to be stitching up an injury caused by another person. At least this way, you know there's only the regular chance of infection rather than the added pressure of any gross stuff that could infect him from the upside down.

"Think I'll still have my good looks when I'm all healed up?" Steve chuckles slightly as he speaks, only wincing slightly as his attempt to smile interferes with his busted lip which has only just stopped bleeding. You can't help but furrow your brows in concern as your brush some of his hair away from his eyes. You make a mental note to consider asking him if he’d considering keeping an elastic band on his person so you can keep his hair out of his face sometimes. It’s a long shot but it’s worth a try

"You'll always be handsome to me, scars and all." You press your lips against his forehead gently, smiling as he leans back and tries to capture your lips with his. He blinks up at you, a pout forming on his face as you lean away from him.

"Kiss it better?"

"Maybe later. I still need to finish your stitches." Steve lets out a dramatic sigh at your comment and you can't help but smile fondly at him.

"I suppose I can wait."

"You're very brave." Your boyfriend clearly doesn't appreciate your sarcasm as he huffs under his breath.

"Let's get this over with then." You watch as Steve steels himself as you lift the needle back towards his face. Before starting with the stitches again, you take his hand in yours and squeeze it gently. He smiles at you as he squeezes your hand in return.

[effloradox]

Do you still write for Mark’s characters? If so could you write for Wilford with the prompt ‘you okay? caught you staring off into space again’?

it’s been a hot minute but i do still write for those characters!

As much as you adore Wilford, some days it's difficult to be around him. The moustachioed man is one of your favourite people to be around in the manor, but it's been clear since you first bumped into him before breakfast that this is going to be one of his bad days.

They're less frequent than they used to be and that brings you some comfort, but it's still hard going for breakfast and him rushing past you without even acknowledging you and know that it's because he doesn't recognise you.

Dark is always quick to notice when Wilford is having a bad day, but there's no such thing as privacy in the manor when it comes to this. You don't have to look towards the dining table to see the other egos exchanging glances. Wilford usually takes great delight in welcoming you downstairs for breakfast, your coffee in his hand, and ideas spilling from his lips for how the two of you could spend the day. For him to ignore you completely is almost unheard of unless he's having a bad day.

The morning sun always seems duller without him by your side, though Dark is quick to approach you, two coffees in his hands. He offers one to you with a carefully constructed expression on his face.

"Give him time. You know what he's like." You nod and try to smile at your oldest friend, but it feels like all the muscles in your face are betraying you, and your smile falls flat. You're sure Dark notices but he doesn't comment, making his way out of the dining room presumably to his office. You offer quick pleasantries to the others in the room as you gather your usual breakfast and make your way outside. It takes time but you manage to put the mornings events out of your mind.

"You okay? Caught you staring off into space again." The voice from behind you jolts you from your thoughts and you flinch back involuntarily.

Wilford has always had an uncanny ability to sneak up on you, he's one of the few people that can actually do so. He gestures to the empty seat across from you, and you nod, waiting for him to settle himself before you reply to his question.

"Yeah, I'm okay. How are you?" The man across from you shrugs lightly, though you can't discern what that means.

"I missed you at breakfast."

"Wil, you saw me at breakfast." Your tone is soft as you speak, careful not to spark an argument with your friend.

"No I didn't. I had your coffee all ready to go and you never showed!"

"Dark gave me my coffee this morning. You walked past me as I was coming down for breakfast."

"No, I walked past one of the interns. If it had been you I would've..." Wilford's voice trails off as he replays the mornings events in his mind. He takes a moment to come to terms with the situation. "It's one of those days then." Something changes in his face, and you're reminded all at once how old Wilford is, how old you both are. How much he's been through. There's something so horribly sad about the introspective look that settles on his brows that you can't resist the temptation to lean over and take his hand in yours. He tangles his fingers through yours without hesitation.

"Wil?"

"I'm sorry dear."

"One day at a time, Wil. We just need to take it one day at a time."

"I think I better go and have a chat with our esteemed leader. Would you be so good as to join me?" He's on his feet and extending his arm to you in the time it takes you to blink, and you allow him to pull you to your feet. He slots your arm into the crook of his as the two of you make your way inside, your coffee all but forgotten.

[effloradox]

for the prompts list “i’m trying to fix your hair so hold still” with renfield?

This is such a good pairing omg!!

You would be the first to acknowledge that you were surprised when Renfield asked you to help him get his life together. You can't say that you've been acquainted with him for long, from what you can tell he's only been in New Orleans for a few weeks but you're quickly developing a soft spot for the man. He's become something of a regular at the restaurant you work at and he makes a pleasant change from the gang members that tend to frequent your place of work. He also tips well and you and some of your colleagues tend to fight over who's going to be his server when he walks through the front door.

You'd given him your number on a whim, not expecting anything to come from it, but had been pleasantly surprised when a friendship had started to form between the two of you. He was easy to talk to, and quite charming if you were being honest with yourself. He wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before and given your dating history that was definitely a good thing.

You'd spent the day with him going shopping for new clothes and things to decorate his apartment when he'd mentioned doing something with his hair. You'd offered to help him on that front, citing a lifetime of cutting your family's hair when money had been tight as experience and he'd agreed to let you do it for him. That had been the end of the discussion until you'd ushered him into his kitchen and wrapped a cloth around his shoulders to prevent any hair falling onto his clothes. He'd turned nervous in a instant, his hands twisting in his lap as you got your scissors ready.

"Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?"

"Yes I'm sure. When's the last time you had a haircut?" The man in front of you goes quiet for a moment.

"I'm not entirely sure. A long time ago." His voice turned soft at his comment, and you immediately felt bad for bringing up something he was clearly sensitive about.

“Do you trust me?” He seems surprised by your question and it upsets you in a way that you can’t quite pin down.

“I do.”

"If you want me to stop at any point just tell me and I will. In the meantime I'm trying to fix your hair, so hold still." He nods slightly at your comment, and he only winces slightly at the first snip of the scissors. You make a conscious effort to keep him talking throughout the process, careful to avoid any topics of conversation that might distress him. It doesn't take long until you're handing him your mirror so he can inspect your work. “What do you think?"

"I think I'll be asking you to do all my haircuts from now on." You can't help but beam at his reaction. You carefully brush a few stray hairs from the nape of his neck, missing how a blush blooms in his cheeks at the gesture.

[effloradox]

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ 

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜ 

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜ 

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

[effloradox]

me!; peter parker.

track sixteen of LOVER

pairing: tom holland!peter parker x gn!reader

synopsis: the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate

word count: 2.4k

From what you’ve heard, New York City isn’t that different in colour than it is in black and white. When you’re deep in the city and the skyscrapers are towering over you, the seas of blacks, whites, and greys that you can see doesn’t really affect anything. You’ve met people in the past that lived by the sea or in the country when the lack of colour is more prominent, but you consider yourself lucky that in a city it’s not that big of a deal. Sure it would be nice to be able to see the colour of your mother’s favourite flowers or appreciate the blue of a summer sky when there’s not a cloud to be seen, but it’s not necessarily impractical for you to not be able to see colours.

That doesn’t mean that a part of you doesn’t ache when yet another one of your friends sends an excited message to your group chat that she’s met her soulmate. You smile at the message and send the appropriate messages of congratulations but it’s a wistful smile more than anything, and it fizzles out the good morning you’d been having. The number in your group that haven’t met your soulmate yet is dwindling, and sometimes it’s hard to feel like you’re not being left behind. You know that you’ll meet your soulmate when the universe decides it’s time but you’re starting to feel the edges of frustration growing in your subconscious. You went through both middle and high school without meeting your soulmate, and now you’re in your second year of college, it’s starting to feel like the universe is just toying with you.

You finish the remains of your lukewarm coffee before saving the assignment you’d forgotten you were working on and shut your laptop down. The warm atmosphere of the coffee shop you’d been residing in seems to have dulled slightly at the news, and you’re more in the mood now to go and throw a mini pity party for yourself than worry about your communications assignment. You’re quick to gather all your belongings and load them into your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder as you make your way to the exit. You throw a quick smile at the baristas as you walk through the door onto the crowded street outside. It's almost spring and the warmth in the air seems to have brought everyone outside as you try to make your way through the crowd to the nearest subway station to get home.

It's the sound of a scream that makes everyone stop around you. Attacks in New York are sadly all too common so people quickly start to move on, hoping to avoid whatever maniac in a suit is causing chaos today. You manage half the walk home before the sound of something crashing into a building just down the street really sends people into a panic. You find yourself struggling to move forward as people become more erratic at getting away before they get hurt, and it feels like for every step forward you manage, people shoving past you pushes you five steps back. It finally seems to clear in front of you and it doesn’t occur to you to worry why that is, just that you should try and keep moving and get away from whatever is going on around you. It’s only when you hear a woman scream that you turn just in time to see a huge block of cement flying through the air and heading in your direction.

In what you're going to later categorise as a very uncharacteristic moment, you find yourself freezing in place at the danger in front of you. It's only a blur of grey and an arm wrapping around your waist that jolts you from your mind as you're pulled into the air and away from the slab of concrete that definitely would've killed you if it had been given the chance to make contact with your body. It takes your brain a good few seconds to process what's happening to you as you feel solid ground back underneath your feet and the arm is removed from your side. You’re vaguely aware of someone speaking to you but your brain isn’t quite caught up and it’s all you can do to not collapse as your legs start to shake as what just happens begins to settle in your mind. The words being spoken to you start to become clearer as the fog slowly lifts from your brain.

“Hey miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?” You finally feel like you’re able to open your eyes without throwing up and it’s all you can do to let out a groan of discomfort. When you finally look up to see the person who pulled you from certain doom, your first thought is that you didn’t think you’d ever get this close to the masked vigilante that’s been swinging around New York for the last few years. That thought is immediately shut down though, when colours start to bloom into your vision, starting with the deep red of his mask and bleeding out into everything else in your vision. He seems equally startled by the revelation, stumbling back from you slightly as if he’d been burned. “Oh my god.”

“You can say that again.” The two of you continue staring at each other, or at least you’re staring at him. The mask makes it difficult to tell if he’s staring at you but you have a feeling that he is. You can also tell that he’s panicking slightly about the situation that’s just unfolded in front of you both.

“You just almost died!” He takes one of your hands from your side and it’s only then that you notice how much you’re shaking. You can’t tell if it’s from finally meeting your soulmate or if it’s from the near death experience and you decide to chalk it up to both. “What’s your name?” The voice is softer now, quieter now he seems to have reassured himself that you’re physically okay.

“(Y/N). I’m assuming I can’t ask you yours?” Spiderman shakes his head slightly, and the shifting of the vibrant red hurts your eyes slightly as you still find yourself adjusting to being able to see colours.

“I have to go and stop Scorpion, but I promise I’ll find you. Is there anywhere I can meet you when this is over?”

“I’m meant to have a class later. I study journalism and communications at NYU.” Your soulmate lets out a noise of consideration at your words.

“What class do you have later?”

“Journalism 301.” He seems to contemplate something for a moment before speaking again.”

“I have that class too. I’ll meet you on the benches outside the building.” You step back at his words, and when you speak confusion is heavy in your tone.

“You’re a student?”

“If these guys with masks keep attacking during my classes I might struggle to graduate but for now my GPA is holding enough for me to stay a student, yeah. I have to go before I lose Scorpion but meet me after class later?”

“Will I know who you are?”

“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out later huh?” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and turning around, jumping up and sending a web towards a building to pull himself into the sky. Some passers-by run over to you as he swings away, checking that you’re physically unharmed, and then you’re being walked to the nearest subway station by a friendly older woman who wouldn’t hear of you making the five minute walk by yourself. She only leaves your side as you step onto your train, thanking her for what must be the tenth time in five minutes.

The journey back to your dorm is silent, and you’re relieved that your roommate isn’t there so you can take some time to process what’s happened. It’s nice to see your dorm as most other people see it, a multitude of colours all over the walls and the pictures of you and your friends in colour. You cringe slightly at some of the pictures from a few years ago, back when none of you could see colour and you’d all refused to let your parents tell you what colours you were wearing. You make a mental note to call your mom and berate her for letting you walk around in an outfit with such clashing colours before falling back onto your bed.

When you make it to your journalism class, you can barely focus. You take a seat at the back of the class, and you barely make any notes, too busy watching every guy in the class to see if any of them look over to you more than just for fleeing glances. When your professor announces that the class is over, you’re slow to pack up your things and you’re one of the last to walk out. When you walk out of the building, there’s only one person sitting on the benches, and he’s not facing you but you know who it is. The familiar mop of curly hair gives away your soulmate’s identity and you freeze in place. Peter Parker is Spiderman? You walk towards him, only slowing when he turns to face you.

“Hey (Y/N). I’m-“

“Peter Parker.” You see a flash of surprise on his face when you say his name before him.

“You know who I am?”

“You’re like the smartest guy in our class Peter, everyone knows who you are.” The small flush of pink on his cheeks as you compliment him is sweet, even if you were being sincere.

“I figured we could talk? About everything that happened today?” You give him a slow nod, watching as he jumps to his feet, pulling his backpack in front of him and opening it. He’s quick to pull out a small bouquet of flowers, a mix of yellow and pink flowers, and hold them out towards you. “I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked so the florist suggested these.” His nervousness is endearing and you can’t not smile at the gesture.

“They’re lovely, thank you Peter.”

"I guess we have a lot to talk about huh? Do you, uh, wanna grab a coffee? My treat?"

"Coffee sounds great. I'll buy though, I owe you for saving my life after all." It surprises you that the walk to the coffee shop is filled with conversation, like you’ve known Peter for years. It’s almost uncanny the way you seem to finish each other's sentences and are on a similar wavelength. It’s even stranger that you realise that you’ve shared a number of classes in the past few years, and how the two of you have never run into each other before feels like a mean twist of fate, to have him so close and yet so far away.

The two of you spend six hours sitting in the coffee shop talking about anything and everything. The time passes without either of you properly realising and it’s with an almost embarrassing lack of awareness that one of the baristas has to ask you to leave because they’ve reached closing time and you’re both still there. You spend the walk back to campus laughing about it, poking fun at each other for it. It’s even stranger when you work out that your dorm buildings are practically next to each other. You both decide to head up to his dorm since Peter doesn’t have a roommate so you can talk about everything that can’t be discussed in a public setting, or at least somewhere with prying ears. You’re vaguely glad you’re not going back to your dorm, you’d left it in something of a state before leaving this morning and hadn’t felt mentally up to tidying after almost dying and meeting your soulmate in the same event.

Peter’s dorm is small but cosy, decorated with pictures of him with his friends and an older woman whom you’re assuming is a relative. You can’t help but smile at how happy he looks, and a part of you is so excited to meet all these people that he holds most dear to him. You try not to make it too obvious how you’re trying to absorb everything about Peter but when you look at him and see the fond smile on his face you know you’ve been caught. He invites you to sit on his bed whilst he pulls the chair out from under his desk and turns it so he can face you. It’s the first time you’ve had a moment of pure silence between you since you met after class and it seems like neither of you are sure who should go first. You decide it should be you to speak first.

“So, are we going to speak about this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I guess we should. Are you sure you’re okay?” You break the eye contact you were holding, eyes shifting down to the floor as you think about how today could have ended. You could’ve died today. You’re lucky that Peter had been there to save you, the whole thing still doesn’t feel real.

“I think so? I mean I don’t think it’s hit me yet? Not properly anyway.” Peter nods at your admission, a look of understanding on his face.

“That’s understandable.”

“Thank you for saving me. I completely froze when I saw that concrete coming at me and I just…I dunno, thank you.” You’ve noticed that Peter gets bashful whenever you compliment him and you make a mental note to keep doing so, he’s clearly not used to receiving praise for what he does, probably because of his need to stay anonymous.

“I was just doing my job.” His humility is clearly a knee-jerk reaction to any and all attempts to credit him for just how much he’s doing to keep the people of this city alive and safe, and you make it a personal mission to spend every day of the rest of your lives together making sure he knows he’s amazing.

“Your job is incredible. To do all of that on your own whilst being a full time student? I don’t know how you do it.” You gesture for him to join you on his bed and, when he does, you take one of his hands into your own. He seems to melt into your touch and it’s in that moment you know that this is exactly where you’re meant to be and exactly who you’re meant to be with.

[effloradox]

I love Taylor swift and twilight! Ur blog is perfection 💜! Do you mind doing more jasper fan fics!

thank you so much, you're so sweet 🥺

Jasper doesn't like to talk about his past. Conversions about his history are reserved for late night whispers, when it's just the two of you in the safe haven of your room. It's not something you hold against him, you can't judge him for something he did over a hundred years ago in bad faith, but you know he feels resentment for the person he used to be. You know how much he struggles with controlling his thirst, and it’s still not the easiest thing for you to deal with.

The problem with introducing a human into a house full of vampires is that it had the potentially to go fatally wrong. Control is something that all your coven take very seriously, it's the only way you can continue to exist amongst humans after all. Everyone knows that it's you and Jasper that have the hardest time controlling yourselves around blood, it’s not exactly a secret. It never fails to astound you the sheer amount of control that Carlisle exhibits on a daily basis in his job. You're getting better with controlling your urges, and you haven't relapsed for a while but introducing a clumsy human into the house felt like a disaster waiting to happen.

In a way you blame Edward. Your emotions towards your adoptive brother are complicated even on a good day, but the idea of him bringing his human girlfriend into the house for her birthday felt like a terrible idea from the offset. Part of you had hoped Alice would have some dramatic vision that would mean you could call the whole thing off but all she'd seen was an admittedly nice vision of Bella blowing out the candles on her birthday cake surrounded by all of you.

It seemed Edward had forgotten how unbelievably accident prone his new girlfriend was though. An unforgivable oversight on his part, one you'll definitely be calling him out on later. You'd turned your back on the birthday girl for a second, just to look over to where Alice and Esme were putting the finishing touches on the cake when you'd smelt it. The acrid coppery smell of blood hit your nose instantly and every fibre of your being is drawn towards it like a forbidden siren call. Your sisters had moved to your side in an instant, only partially caging you against the kitchen counter you'd been leaning on. It's hard trying to centre yourself and not give into the urges, and it's only what's taking place on the other side of the kitchen that really brings you back to yourself.

Jasper is looking much worse for wear. His senses have honed in on Bella and all of you can tell he's only seconds away from pouncing. Emmett and Edward have their arms around him in an instant, stopping him from beelining towards the injured human but it's clear he's putting up enough of a fight that they'll struggle to restrain him for a long time. You're in front of him in the time it takes Bella to blink, your hands cupping his face gently to keep his eyes on you. Edward had pushed her towards the wall as soon as he'd heard Jasper's thoughts so she's not as close as she was, meaning she only hears fragments of what you're saying to him.

"Hey, hey, Jas it's okay. It's okay. It's just a little blood. Look at me, it's okay yeah?" Your words seem to be having some effect but Bella notes that Emmett and Edward still haven't let Jasper out of their grip. Carlisle appears by her side and she's vaguely aware that he's speaking to her but her eyes are still trained on you and Jasper. Your words seem to be having some kind of effect on him and it sends a small pang through her chest that you have the ability to calm Jasper down even in the face of the strongest temptation when Edward sometime can’t even look at her as a result of his urges.

Her eyes are still trained on the two of you as Esme leads her out of the room to go and find the first aid kit. The last thing she sees is Edward and Emmett letting Jasper go as he collapses in your arms almost bonelessly. His arms wrap around your waist as his head rests on your shoulder, giving you ample chance to press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

[effloradox]

I’m slightly obsessed with this vampire cowboy if you couldn’t tell 😅

Being the baby in a family of vampires is a difficult position to hold. You're not a baby by any means, you're in your thirties by now, but compared to the patriarch of your new family who is over three hundred years older than you, the other vampires dwarf your time on this planet. You know that this life is a blessing, that without it you'd be long dead by now, but it still stings having your age used against you in practically every family discussion.

Carlisle has more sympathy for your age difference but Edward is the worst for it. He's only seventy years older than you and yet you'd think he was seven hundred years older from the way he acts. You can't help the fact that people born in the same year as you are still alive and well, it's not like you can make time pass quicker and yet your adoptive brother seems to take great delight in pulling rank over you in any discussions about the future of the coven. Knowing he can read your thoughts of frustration does nothing to help the situation either.

Jasper knows it bothers you. He was still fairly new to the coven when you were turned, so whilst he's older than Edward he doesn't have the same position in the coven. It doesn't bother him as much since he outlives Edward, but he understand your frustrations. One of the perks of his abilities is knowing when you're reaching the end of your patience so he can quickly intervene with the suggestion of getting out of the house if only for a while so you can calm down.

It's almost a tradition at this point that not long after a move, the two of you will seek out some private spot far from the new house, far from the new town, that will become your spot for the duration of your time in whatever new place the coven has moved to.

As far as your limited experience goes, Forks seems to be a fairly nice town. Nothing like the small English town you lived in when you were human, but it's nice. It rains almost constantly, which is a nice feeling of being back home, and the people seem more than friendly enough. Carlisle had mentioned you having your tour of the high school in the upcoming days once enough time had passed for the family to have 'settled in'. The only thing you'd actually done upon arriving in town was choosing a bedroom for you and Jasper and immediate heading out to find your new spot.

Carlisle had warned you about not breaking the treaty he had formed with the Quileutes but aside from that, you and Jasper had been given free reign. It still hurt when the last thing you'd heard before you left the house was yet another snide remark from Edward about needing to baby proof the house before the two of you returned. You'd stopped running after maybe twenty minutes, and this was definitely not going to be your spot, but Jasper got the impression you needed time to process the past rather than look to the future.

"Do you think he'll always treat me like that?" You question makes Jasper pause for a moment as he considers his response. He lets his eyes drift over the small clearing the two of you are sat in before his gaze falls back to you.

"I hope not darlin'." His words do nothing to stop the ache in your chest and he knows it. He can tell from the defeated look on your face and the way your emotions flicker across your face. He doesn't need to be an empath to know how much this tirade is starting to bother you.

"Alice said that he'd stop with time, but I don't think I can spend another thirty years listening to him be so condescending about me." The mention of your precognitive sibling makes Jasper pause. For her to have a vision of something so specific would be unusual from what he's discerned over the years.

"Did Alice see something about him stopping?" You shrug lightly, pulling your knees close to your chest.

"Not necessarily. She said she saw something big happening whilst we're here that will make him stop but that could be years away." Jasper lets out a quiet noise of consideration at your words. Alice had been having more frequent visions since you'd all moved, maybe something big was on the horizon. Last time she'd had this many was just before you'd come into their lives.

"I can ask Carlisle to speak to him if you want." You take a moment to consider his offer before shaking your head lightly.

"I think that would just make him do it more out of spite. Thank you though." You outstretch a hand to him that he's more than willing to take. Even after over a decade of being together, it never fails to fill him with joy how perfectly your hand fits in his. Like you were made for him, or he was made for you. Maybe both. It certainly feels that way when you look at him with a smile that could rival the moon for how beautiful it is.

"You want to head somewhere new?" You nod at him and allow him to help you to your feet. Even now you're both standing your hands are still entwined and he smiles as he feels you squeeze his hand gently.

"Lead the way cowboy."