#but unlike with spiders which still occasionally really get me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hunting4fluff · 8 months

Text

Reflex Training

HEY! I'M BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER (maybe) I started college so it came out a little slower but it's also a little longer but who cares here we gooooooo (also I added a single Spanish word in here Idk why it just felt right in the moment)

Lee Reader

Ler Miguel

Miguel/Reader or Miguel + reader (/r or /p is up for reader interpretation) 1694 word count

You would never expect Miguel to be such a physical person.

It would make sense most in combat, when all you really can do is grapple and punch, - Weaponry for you, as many other spiderpeople, was out of the question - however when it came to Miguel, you assumed he would leave touch to fighting.

It wasn't a bad thing, by any metric. It was admittedly nice to get a hand on your shoulder, letting you know his reassurance was available or the occasional flat palmed rub on your upper back when you were noticeably overwhelmed.

Today, however, left a little bit more physical touch than what you were used to.

Miguel had been praising your abilities. Your constitution was 'fairly admirable' your intelligence was 'something to be proud of…' etc. etc. But he hadn't neglected to point out your weaknesses in order to improve. Calling in today was reflex training.

Miguel had prepared a list of possible reasons why your reflexes might be off, ranging from least probable to most probable.

"Spider sense deterioration. Unlikely, though. Older spiderfolks tend to struggle with that and at that point they've already retired."

"Got it." You nodded your head as you listen intently for a cause. Miguel was anything, if not thorough.

"Mental health issues such as chronic anxiety and depression. You had listed last week that you were experiencing little to no symptoms on our new check-in."

"Still accurate." You affirm, noting the slight huff of irritation in his voice. He hadn't originally been planning on conducting mental health surveys- he knew everyone in this society experienced traumatic events and therefore had symptoms surrounding it -but after he had "Spider Therapist", Lyla and Peter all come forth with the not-so-flexible-suggestion, he wasn't exactly going to argue on the matter.

Nonetheless, you had been doing pretty well these past couple weeks. Taking a couple self care days to relax and allow yourself to enjoy things.

"Attention span difficulties." Miguel listed next.

"Attention span has been fine recently." You shrugged. Miguel quirked a brow, giving a half-heartedly disbelieving look. You smiled back and Miguel continued on the list.

"Then last but not least, inconsistent training. Have you been slacking in the training room?"

You opened your mouth to refute but hesitated. The mental health days didn't really count, you didn't think. They were rare and barely ever affected your work. However, you had been focusing more on strength training recently…

Miguel looked you over in your hesitation, a small huff of a chuckle springing from his chest.

"I'll put down 'yes' then…" He shook his head, an amused smirk quirking the corner of his lips as he pulled up a screen and started to type the information in. You shot Miguel a glare, in which he returned your glance with another snicker.

"Tell you what, we can work on it together today, alright?" He offered. It took you by surprise- Miguel never worked personally with any of the other Spider-people. It felt… special. You shrugged your shoulders, attempting to seem more nonchalant than how you actually felt, and nodded your head.

"Sounds good, I guess." Was that too relaxed? Miguel sure seemed to think so.

"What? You're not excited to work one on one? And here I thought we had a good thing goin'." Miguel teased. You rolled your eyes and giggled, crossing your arms as you grinned at Miguel.

"No, no- it sounds very exciting-"

"Ah, now you're just trying to make me feel better!" Miguel waved his hand dismissively, laughing. He was in a pretty good mood today and it was certainly a welcome change.

"C'mon, let's just go do that training thing, alright?" You laughed with him, starting to walk towards the training room. He joined your pace by your second stride, shaking his head again.

"I make the rules around here, contestón."

His taller figure allowed him a further stride, forcing you to jog to keep up with him. Making it to the training room, he opened the door to one of the simulation rooms.

The room was about 380 square feet, panels on the floors and walls used to project images of villains and obstacles that you might need to avoid or utilize in a fight. Typically this room simulated an average living room, even going so far as to materialize furniture to set the scene. Often times, Miguel encouraged this room's use for fighting robbers and inexperienced villains for those starting off, which almost made you feel insulted that he would bring you in here.

The furniture of a living room formed, it's technology akin to Miguel's suit as you would have noticed. Miguel had explained the science behind it before in one of his sleep deprived rants, but you also had been too tired to listen.

You noted the lack of a target in the room, scanning around to find only you and Miguel standing in the scene.

"You're going to be sparring with me." Miguel answered the question budding at your lips, only to provoke a new question.

"But your claws… and you're way bigger than me…" You nervously protested. In all honesty, while his claws were pretty scary, that wasn't your biggest concern. Fighting Miguel meant having to hurt him, and that wasn't something you were willing to do.

"You've fought worse, I'm sure of it." He brushed off the notion, starting to position himself from the opposite side of the couch. "And if you're really worried about my 'claws', then I can avoid using them. I'm not trying to kill you."

You were still hesitant, but the second you moved to comply, Miguel leapt at you. You dodged out of the way, just in the nick of time to feel his pinkie finger brush against your upper arm. The way you pulled out of the way, led you into a somersault and by the time you steadied yourself, Miguel was darting at you again. He reached to grab you as you jumped to the ceiling, just barely grazing your hip and causing a strangled squeak to jump from your throat.

Miguel seemed to hesitate, processing why you make such a noise, giving you more than enough time to leap back at him and tackle him to the ground. You struggled to grapple him, grabbing his wrists before he pulled both yours and his arms apart, twisting his wrist just right as to pull it from your grip.

You were screwed.

He quickly darted his hand towards you, shifting his weight to pin you as his hand clutched- your side?

Before you could question his choice of hand placement, you saw that smug grin on his face and knew you were double screwed. His fingers slowly dragged up your side, causing you to twitch and try to arch away from the touch.

Flustered blush rose to your cheeks, heating up your face once you realized how detail oriented Miguel was.

"You know, I was thinking of adding a penalty to inadequate training sessions. You think this will work fine?"

Miguel's teasing only made it harder to try and at least seem unbothered. You felt a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you yanked at Miguel's hands, your head rolling back as you whined in protest. Verbal protest could mean laughing. You weren't going to be so easy.

"Oh, am I getting the silent treatment? There's a good way to fix that." Miguel moved his fingers towards your ribs, shooting sparks through your skin. He tapped on each individual rib, slow and teasing. Every movement was methodical and well thought out. He was anything if not thorough.

Each light creeping touch built more and more giggles bubbling up in your chest, a full grin spreading across your face as you squirmed. It would be a lie to say this wasn't a little fun. Miguel was grinning down at you, shifting to grab your wrist and holding it above your head. A small giggle slipped out before the entire dam broke, and he wasn't even touching you yet. He wiggled his fingers teasingly above your armpit, relishing in every reaction you made.

"Miguel!" You yelped out, arching away from the impending fingers.

"What? You failed reflex training and now you're gonna learn to get better!" He laughed, a devilish glint lighting up in his eyes. Suddenly, five, firm claws grazed just below your underarm coaxing a scream laugh from you. You weren't expecting his claws, much less for them to tickle so bad. You cackled and writhed, hearing Miguel's laughter mix in with yours.

"YOU SAHAID YOU WOULDN'T-" You were cut off by your own laughter, shrieking as they quickly scritched down to your side and slowly dragged up back to your ribs.

"Wouldn't use my claws? For training I wouldn't. Like I said, I'm not trying to kill you." He chuckled, speeding up the slow scritches to quick scribbles.

It felt like tingly fireworks were shooting through your ribs, causing you to cackle and screech.

"YOU'RE KILLING MEHEHE ANY-" Before you could finish your sentence, a loud squeal followed by a gasp interrupted as you started to thrash.

He slowed his touch to light tracing up and down your sides after a few moments to allow you to catch your breath, giggles still hitching in your throat before you started to calm down a little bit.

Finally he stopped, releasing your wrists as you coiled in on yourself. You caught your beath and laid there for a few moments, residual giggles slipping out here and there. He reached over and brushed some hair out of your face, laughing before he pulled you closer with one arm.

"You good?" He asked, the smug smile never leaving. You nodded your head, still smiling as you leaned into him.

"You didn't end up killing me, so that's nice." You retorted, earning one more bark of laughter from Miguel.

"Hey- it's motivation. Anyways, let's get you some water. I think we worked out your abs more than your reflexes." He joked, standing up and holding a hand out for you to grab.

Reflex training might not be so bad after all.

#hunting4fluff #tickle fluff #atsv tickle #sfw tickling #miguel ohara

58 notes · View notes

classic-caldwell-moment · 1 year

Text

Post Apocalyptic Polycule returns, featuring far too many headcanons and Lawan threatening to smother people, domestic life has never been so...domestic.

Title: "Early Bird."

Category: Fluff.

Warnings: None?

Summary: Three words, Aiden Has Insomnia /hj

Aiden breathed out slowly and looked up at dark ceiling, the sounds of rain falling on the tin roof was relaxing and familiar, a rhythmic sound, inviting, almost as inviting as the warm sheets and even warmer embrace of the people he lay with; Hakon wasn't really an early bird, that was something the pilgrim had caught onto swiftly, he slept heavily and snored loudly, unlike Lawan, she was relatively silent while asleep, occasionally waking up or muttering in her slumber, Aiden himself though? He was a very fitful sleeper.

He'd been told many a time that he often tossed and turned for hours, once punching Lawan so hard that she woke up with a nose bleed, he was also notorious for drooling and waking up constantly, that's why he was staring up at the ceiling right now, at three o'clock, listening to the rain, blue eyes focused on the moldier spots of the roof, Hakon groaned beside him and tightened his grip on Aiden's pyjamas, huffing in his sleep and nuzzling his face against the younger mans hair, Aiden stifled a laugh and relaxed into the grasp; Hakon was more of a hugger than Lawan was, actually both of them were more physically affectionate than her, she showed it in her own ways.

That way currently was wearing one of Aiden's shirts to sleep in, it was rather small on her, though large on the sleeves, unlike if he wore one of her shirts, which would hang around his waist and practically dwarf him, the pilgrim breathed out quietly and continued to scan the ceiling, there was another moldy spot, god they need to get that sorted, oh, and there's a spider, he didn't mind spiders, Hakon probably would though, Aiden considered briefly getting up to retrieve the creepy crawly but, he decided against it, mainly because of the still iron like grip the frenchman had on him; and possibly because if he dropped the spider on Hakon's face, and startled him awake, Lawan would beat both of them black and blue.

Speaking of Lawan, the dark haired woman stirred slightly to the left of Aiden, he tilted his head to check on her and found her adjusting her position in bed, snuggling herself against the pillow and sighing heavily, her eyebrows were knitted together but slowly began to relax once again now she was comfortable, she was so pretty, Aiden smiled and looked back up at the ceiling, toying with the material of the warm blankets as he analysed the rotten rooftop, oh for the love of god there's a hole in the roof, how did he not notice this? Aiden squinted and saw water dripping through it onto the floor, "Oh, fuck me." he breathed out quietly, glaring daggers at the purple lit water droplets.

Lawan made a noise similar to a chuckle and caught the pilgrims attention, he peered over at her and saw that she still had her eyes shut but, was very clearly awake, "What's wrong?" she asked playfully, rubbing her face against the pillow and sighing heavily, "There's a hole in the roof." he responded, tugging harshly at the blankets threads and twisting them between his fingers, "S' not a big deal, plus we wasted that last bit of sealant on the windows last winter." Lawan mumbled, reaching out a hand to gently pat Aiden's shoulder, though the gesture was clumsy due to her lack of sight, almost poking his mouth in the process.

"Probably need to find more then...", that was Hakon, when the hell did he wake up? Aiden was probably too focused on the hole in the roof to notice the snoring had stopped, the frenchman loosened his grip on Aiden in favour for snuggling his face against the pilgrims cheek, "No shit, asshole." Lawan muttered, pausing her patting to squeeze Aiden's shoulder and finally retract her hand, "Captain obvious..." the pilgrim joined in on the teasing, turning slightly to press a kiss to Hakon's face, the older man hummed and smiled sleepily, "Wait- Wait, Lawan." the frenchman's smile grew wider and ever so slightly propped himself up to peer at his ex.

The woman groaned loudly and flipped him off before responding in a low huff, "Whhhaaat?" she grumbled, Aiden raised a brow and looked at Hakon with a 'Dude?' expression, "We don't need sealant for a hole in the roof, jus' nails n' wood." Hakon drew out his words with a slow chuckle, gesturing to the hole despite Lawan's eyes still being screwed shut, though not for long, she opened them up to stare pure hate at him from across Aiden, "Uh- Okay, I don't feel safe being in the middle of this-" the pilgrim interjected their stare down, sliding deeper into the blankets with a nervous smile.

The two exes continued to stare at eachother for a brief moment before finally giving up, Hakon wrapping his arms back around Aiden and chuckling softly, "She's just pissed off that m' right." he muttered, being cut off at the start of his next sentance by a pillow slamming into his face, "I deserved that-" he sighed, tossing the pillow back to Lawan who was impatiently holding her hand out for her pillow, "Glad you have some self awareness." she smirked and snuggled back down onto her pillow, though now she was closer to Aiden and leaning her head against his, the frenchman settled down soon after and it wasn't long before he was passed out once again, a low snore leaving his throat and causing the pilgrim to snort with a laugh, though Lawan seemed slightly less amused, despite the small upturn to her lips.

"I'm going to smother him in his sleep one day-", "Lawan.", "What? You think about it too." the woman grinned and kissed Aiden's temple gently, the younger man blinked and processed the words, "I mean- Okay, it gets really irritating when you're awake half the night, y'know?" he finally responded, Lawan nodded rapidly and offered him a finger guns gesture, "Exactly what I'm talking about, spot on." she hummed, closing her eyes once again and breathing out slowly, "I hate to tell you this, but it's only three more hours until you have to get up." Aiden chuckled, Lawan's breathing paused and jokingly threatening words met his ears, "You're going to be smothered next with that attitude. Let me get my rest.".

The pilgrim snickered and shut his eyes tight, not responding to Lawan's playful threats, merely listening to the continuous sound of heavy rain and Hakon's dreadful snoring, his body finally meeting the short lived void of sleep.

#writinginsilence #postinginsilence #dying light 2 #dying light #dl2 #dying light fandom #aiden caldwell #dl2 aiden #dying light 2 aiden #dl2 lawan #dying light 2 hakon #dl2 hakon #dying light 2 lawan #lawan x aiden #lawan x aiden x hakon #hakon x aiden #post apocalyptic polycule #🌼him.txt

5 notes · View notes

benjamindennis · 6 months

Text

Parenting can be hard. Specifically, finding appropriate punishments for certain infractions. I haven't always gotten it right. However, I don't feel like I've ever been too over the top.

Whenever I was eight years old, we lived in a farmhouse in a small community known as Burnham. The house was a single story home with a full basement. I lived in the basement. Almost the entirety of it was mine and I liked that a lot. I had a bedroom. I had studio space for my art. I had a playroom. And then, of course, there was the creepy room with the hot water heater and spiders. We stayed out of that room.

The staircase was built in such a way that there was a partition that wrapped around it to keep people from walking straight to their plunging demise, which was handy. Most people don't like to fall. It was covered in trendy wood paneling from like, 1973 and was otherwise pretty nondescript.

On one particular evening I was sitting in the orange rocking chair situated a few feet in front of the aforementioned partition. My mother and I were constantly at odds over one thing or another and on this particular evening, according to her, I had "sassed" her... which is not all that unlikely. And I take to mean that I must have had an opinion on some relevant matter.

So, rather than grounding me or punishing me in some way remotely appropriate for the sin of sassing, my mother angrily stormed into her bedroom and returned a few seconds later with a braided belt that she would occasionally wear with ugly, pleated slacks.

Now, mind you, I'm not inherently opposed to corporal punishment if the situation calls for it. However, I do believe that there are typically better options. On this specific evening, my mother would disagree.

At eight years of age, I was essentially already bigger in stature than my mother. She was all about 5'1" and I've always been a sizeable young man. As such, I made the determination in that moment that my mother was not, in fact, going to strike me with the fashionable braided belt. This did not appeal to me in the least. Moreover, I felt that it was inappropriate for the situation and therefore, I informed her that she would not be lashing me with this staple of 1980s culture on this evening.

It seems that this did not sit well with her and her intended plans in that moment and therefore, since I had refused to stand, in order for her to lash me about my ample gluteal region, she swung the belt wildly, aiming in the approximate area of my cranium. I didn't like this.

With my cat-like, adolescent reflexes, I caught the belt and pulled it from her hand. In the same motion, I tossed it backwards, over the partition and down the stairs, far from my tender buttocks.

I had, for all the world, anticipated that she would retrieve the belt and resume her mission to accost me with it. But, to my surprise, I was wrong. Rather than retrieving the belt, she simply turned, walked into her bedroom, and shut the door.

Now, it may sound like I had struck of victory of sorts. That was not the case. Not at all.

For the next three days, the woman never spoke to me, made eye contact with me, or acknowledged me. The closest I came to acknowledgement was at dinner-time, because my dad insisted that she still feed me. So, while she did prepare me a plate and set a spot for me at the table each night, she would walk by me with my plate in her hand and drop it from a height of 10"-12", ensuring that the food scattered and I had to gather it back up before I could eat.

Perhaps this would have been an effective form of discipline if I had understood why she was doing it, but to this day I really don't. I mean, I get it. Trauma is cool. But that may have been just a bit much.

But hey, I didn't die, I guess. So, I have that going for me.

#blog #life #life blogging #lifeblr #memoir #memories #memory #new blog #truestory #real life #childhood #readme

0 notes

noperopesaredope · 3 years

Text

Fics That I Really Like A Lot

So, I just wanted to make a post uplifting some really great fics I’ve read/am subscribed to or still keeping up with. I like to let people know about other creators, and I just wanted to mention some works I think people should check out.

(Note, this post was made on Sep 2, 2021, so when I say something is recent, I mean compared to when I made this post)

Tangled the Series Fics (Mostly Varian Fics):

Walls of Stone (Finished)

Varian and Whumptober 2020 (Series) (Finished) (Sidenote; I really like this author in general, but there is just so much great whump and extreme angst in this series! Says they are but a humble freshman, but I say they are a very skilled freshman!)

How Pneumonia Stopped a Stubborn Alchemist from Descending into Villainy (Finished)

Screw Treasure, I got Trauma (Finished)

Tangled One-shots (Series) (Finished? I Think?)

Voluntary Manslaughter (Finished)

I’ll Always Lend an Ear (Finished)

Drown Your Past, Burn your Future (Series) (Unfinished, but still going strong)

Scars of a Child (Series) (Unfinished)

Unrelenting Silence (Finished)

Where was the happily ever after? (Finished? Unsure)

All our Dreams (Down the Drain) (Unfinished)

Not All Falling Stars Grant Wishes (Finished)

Alchemy Lullaby (Series) (Finished)

Insignificant (Finished)

Second Chances (Almost finished)

The Pawn Decides Its Fate (Finished)

Unsaid Emily (Finished)

Today, Today (Finished)

The Pride in Your Eyes (Unfinished, but still somewhat new)

Monster (Finished)

You Are Enough (Finished)

An Alchemist’s World (Unfinished, but the first four chapters could definitely work as a standalone fic, so, in my eyes it’s finished)

Too Smart for Your Own Good (Unfinished, going strong)

To find the Sundrop (Unfinished)

There’s More in You (Unfinished)

The Science of Love (Unfinished, going very strong)

Season 2 But Gayer (Unfinished, going strong-ish)

On My Honor (Series) (Unfinished, going extremely strong with consistant updates)

A Prince and His Bodyguard (Series) (Unfinished, going strong)

Rocks, Wolves, and the Moon (Series) (Unfinished, going strong)

Return to Me (Unfinished, going strong)

Perilous Night (Unfinished, possibly discontinued, but worth a bit of the read)

Nomad (Unfinished, author is working on multiple projects, so IDK)

No Reward for Second Place (Unfinished, but fairly new and somewhat well updated)

Oath of the Lawbreaker (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

New Quest for Varian (Unfinished, fairly new)

My Dear Son (Unfinished)

Insignificant (Finished)

Indentured (Unfinished, same author as Nomad)

Enter the mind, remove the sins (Unfinished, going pretty strong)

Darkness exists to make the light truely count (Unfinished, going strong. Updated about every month or two, with consistency)

Creeping Crystals (Unfinished, but going somewhat strong)

Blood of My Brother (Unfinished, going as one of the strongest in its fast updates)

Cyclorama (Finished) (Companion to Blood of My Brother)

Chemistry in Motion (Unfinished)

Away from Home (Unfinished)

Alone? (Unfinished-ish)

It’s just a mild inconvenience (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

Gauze in the Wound (Unfinished, pretty consistent last I checked)

Blood Makes the Knife Holy (Series) (Unfinished, but each part could work as their own fics, and it’s still going)

A Progression of Events (Unfinished)

He Needs Me (Unfinished, going strong)

Or So They Though (Unfinished, going pretty strong)

The Long Road Back to Home (Unfinished, hasn’t been updated in a bit, but is pretty long and each chapter could take about a couple months to finish, and even longer if the creator is stuck/has other fics. Still worth the read)

The Road Home (Different) (Unfinished)

Reunion at Sea (Unfinished, going strong)

Elements of Angst (Unfinished, probably updated soon)

Arson (Unfinished, every time it think that maybe it’s been discontinued, it comes back)

Unconventional Family (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

To find the Sundrop (Unfinished)

Wayward AU (Comic) (Unfinished, pretty consistent)

RWBY (Mainly Oscar Fics):

It’s Venomous (Finished)

Will you stand and be brave or be broken? (Finished)

Oscar Gets Himself a Coat (Finished)

Who You Belong To (Finished)

Imperfect Light (Finished)

Shell (Finished)

Blood on Both Hands (Finished)

Tell Me that I am a Fool (Finished)

If i believed in destiny i'd have to hunt it down and punch it in the face (Series) (Unfinished, can have the occasionally long hiatus, but the creator comes back)

Is Oscar okay? no but the answer is b (Finished)

Running From Memories (Finished)

Rescue Me (Unfinished)

Souls of Love and Bravery (Unfinished, relatively consistent updates)

Revert To Last Save File (but it's the wrong file) (Unfinished, but still going)

Broken Body and Souls (Finished)

Camp Camp:

David’s Family (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

Horror Camp (A little too much child whump for me, but it’s very whumpy) (Unfinished)

Inconvenience (Unfinished)

Still Here (One of my favs) (Finished)

Hetalia (Mainly America and Canada Centric):

Recovering the Broken Pieces (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

Hetalia 2020 - WWIII and more (Unfinished)

(More fics in the crossover section)

She-ra (Quite a few Kyle ones):

The Chronicles of Kyle (Unfinished)

Sunflowers (Finished)

She-Ra: In the Wake (Unfinished)

Princesses and co. work through their issues (Unfinished)

What is Heard (Cannot be Unheard) (Finished)

Long Way Home (Unfinished)

The Hollowed of Etheria (Discontinued. For now at least. Author might revamp it)

Hordak and the Orphans of the Horde (Unfinished)

Big Sis (Finished)

Ex-Horde (Finished? Pretty good on its own though)

Prisoner of Conscience (Unfinished, still going strong)

Tales of Arcadia (Mostly Douxie Fics):

The Immortal Bonds (Unfinished, going strong)

I Can Make RotT So Much Worse (Unfinished, going strong)

Not After 900 Years (Finished)

A Different Path (Finished)

Half-Remembered (Finished)

Shattered Timelines (Unfinished, going strong)

In the Fullness of Time (Unfinished, updated recently)

One Last Time (Unfinished, updated recently)

Tales of Arcadia Watch Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans (Unfinished)

Crossover Fics:

Sold (TTS/HtTYD) (Finished) (Author is really good at angsty oneshots that should be made into full fics)

Varian’s Mysterious Transport (TTS/Infinity Train) (Unfinished, unexpected updates)

Of Rocks and Robots (TTS/Big Hero Six) (Series) (Unfinished, very consistent)

(Like the moon) I'll sway the tide and lead you astray (TTS/HtTYD) (Unfinished, haven’t read in a while)

Heathers and other fandoms react to stuff (Multifandom Crossover Fanfiction) (Unfinished, confusing update schedule, not every fandom gets much spotlight, still incredibly fun)

Chemistry in Motion (TTS/Big Hero Six) (Unfinished)

The Weight of Both Worlds (Hetalia/RWBY) (Series) (Finished) (My favorite fic ever)

Infinity (Hetalia/BNHA) (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

G8 china in UA, 1-S class! (Hetalia/BNHA) (Unifinished, possibly dicontinued)

That Which Makes Up This Land (Hetalia/ATLA) (Unfinished, author is editing and reposting all their series, which could take about a year, but it will be back)

A Waterbending Quirk (ATLA/BNHA) (Unfinished, going strong)

Other Fics:

Earth is Odd Enough (Sanders Sides) (Unfinished)

UA Faculty Tiktok OCs (BNHA) (Webtoon) (Check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63lWYueDsek&t=208s, she’s amazing) (Unfinished. The Tiktoks, on the otherhand, are very much still going)

Harry Potter and the Lack of Lambsauce (Harry Potter) (Finished)

Grinch x Tony the Tiger (You know) (Unfinished)

Flowey is Not a Good Life Coach (Undertale) (Finished)

It Wears a Mask (MCU Spiderman) (Finished)

A Different Fate (Harry Potter) (Finished)

A crack in the glass (eye) (ATLA) (Finished)

Identity Saga (MCU Spiderman) (Series) (Unfinished, author is very dedicated to fic and is incredibly determined to finish it, so highly unlikely to be discontinued)

Bakery Enemies AU (Miraculous Ladybug) (Comic) (Unfinished, going strong)

Authors I Like:

AquaQuadrant aka @aquaquadrant (probably know them if you’re in the Varian fandom. Ridiculously talented)

bethhigdon (in the TTS fandom and the Big Hero Six fandom, but also other stuff)

Cate_9xBlue aka @cate-9xblue (known best for their TTS fics)

Royalsciencenerd (Writes amazing TTS Varian fics)

HoneyxMonkey aka @honeyxmonkey (Writes TTS fics and talks a lot about Tales of Arcadia on their blog. Has some great ideas)

Sand_wolf579 (Has a large and varied catalogue)

ExploretheEcccentricities aka @exploretheeccentricities (Lots of TTS fics)

ShadowSnowdapple aka @shadowsnowdapple (RWBY Oscar fics that are amazing)

Widowfics (Great TTS writer)

AMax76 (Wrote the amazing Blood of My Brother)

violetsaren_tblue (has some great TTS fics I like)

Time Traverser (Excellent Hetalia America and Canada Fics)

Aloneintherain aka @captainkirkk (Just started reading their stuff, SO many excellent Spider-Man fics)

So yeah, just giving some appreciation for all the fic creators out there and their creations!

292 notes · View notes

entities-of-posts · 2 years

Note

hello archivist!

i was wondering what your personal ranking of entities based on how much you like them/think theyre neat (if the corruption isnt #1 i will crawl through your window like a worm (threatening))

Hmmm if we’re just going on Vibes and not alignment, it would go a little like this…

The assholes zone:

15. The Desolation. Like the fire aesthetic, hate everything else about it and most of its avatars I’ve met (present company excluded, of course. None of you budding arsonists that occasionally come visit my Archive have antagonized me too much yet which I appreciate.)

14. The Slaughter. Personal grudge. Anyway the Hunt does everything it does but better. Except the music, gotta give it that.

13. The Extinction. New and exciting to figure out, but still the manifestation of one of the shittiest, most infuriating phenomenon of our era.

The “meh” zone:

12. The Dark. Kinda boring and always hiding stuff from Sight, which are both up there on my list of highest crimes. Also feels like it could do better but it just doesn’t, which is disappointing and annoying.

11. The Buried. So-so. Caves are pretty cool though, but only as long as they don’t actually crush you into a pulp, so… It actually takes caves and make them less fun.

10. The Lonely. Mopey. Statements always taste somehow too salty and flavorless at once. Depressing, no kick to them. I can appreciate a good fog though.

9. The Flesh. Meat is meat, whatever, who hasn’t eaten a little bit of human flesh at some point, not worth the fuss. Feels like its avatars could do some pretty impressive body sculptures, but most just… don’t do anything that interesting, which is probably because everyone who’s got gory inclinations but also actual artistic talent goes with the Stranger.

8. The End. I personally don’t especially worry or care about it, but the aesthetic is a solid 8/10 and its avatars are usually polite.

The cool kids zone:

7. The Corruption. (I know, I know, not first place. Sorry Anna.) Like the bugs, like the mushrooms, a little less fond of the plagues. Statements are a bit of an acquired taste, but you get used to the whiff of mold eventually. Actually kinda sweet, which is pretty rare for Dread Powers. Endearing.

6. The Stranger. Fun loving folks, throw absolutely indescribable parties which is both a pro and a con, easily one of the best styles, and a real sense of grotesque and panache I truly appreciate in a statement. Kind of annoying to try and See through all the smoke and mirrors though.

5. The Hunt. Not always the most pleasant of avatars, but how exhilarating! Truly gets your blood pumping like nothing else! Neither my favorite nor least favorite aesthetic-wise, but an old classic for sure.

4. The Vast. Whose heart doesn’t skip a beat at the sight of the immensity? Who doesn’t feel l’appel du vide tugging at their guts? Isn’t the vertigo just like infatuation, when you think about it? Very very beautiful, maybe a bit too open and empty to have the kind of mystery that really pulls me it.

3. The Eye. Hi 👁 Well obviously I like this one, don’t think I need to expend on that. All the extra eyeballs are a really good look if I do say so myself. We’re a bunch of nerds though I can’t deny it.

2. The Spiral. I’ve spoken at length about how fascinating and exasperating this one is already. Very enthralling colors and pattern that always gets burned into my retinas and give me a headache because I keep staring too long. Avatars can be the cockiest most chaotic bastards out there but they’re always fun and interesting and some of them are even nice. Also I’m honestly so jealous of the Doors those seem so unfairly useful.

1. The Web. Absolute queen. Unlike the Eye, not so busy being knowledgeable she forgets to be clever. I am far far too fond of the Spiders for my own good and they can be so frustratingly secretive but you don’t have all the facts. Which are: I love them.

There we go! Yes I put two of the most violent and destructive Entities at the very bottom of the list, what are they gonna do, try to kill me again? Probably, but look how well that went last time.

#honestly the Slaughter would probably be a bit higher on the list if I didn’t hold an old grudge but too bad because I sure do!#statements #Adelaide

77 notes · View notes

jiilys · 3 years

Text

warm front

featuring The Line, also on ao3 here

“You’re a lot better at this than Ron.” Harry said into the phone.

“Well that’s not hard,” Ginny said, not mentioning how she still occasionally picked up the receiver upside down. “Speaking of, he’s started growing a moustache since you left. It’s ghastly.”

“Oi!” Ron’s voice, annoyed, in the background. Harry grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“It looks like he’s got biscuit crumbs on his upper lip.” Harry laughed, and Millie glared at him from behind the post office counter, “Oh, lovely, he’s giving me the finger.”

“I’ve started growing a bit of a beard actually.”

“Come off it.”

“Feeling left out?” Harry joked

Ginny snorted. “Yes, desperately. Isn’t it hot?”

“Well I think so.”

She laughed, clear and quick, and Harry could imagine her, all limb, leaning against the kitchen cupboard curling the phone wire around her wrist. He’d bought the phone as a bit of joke before he’d left, and then as a joke she’d installed it, and then for a joke he’d rung her, and then this was how they talked now. Arthur had apparently worn a suit when the electrician came to install the power plug.

“Isn’t it hot though? Bill says Australian summers are killers”

Harry looked at Teddy, sat on the post office floor in nothing but shorts sucking an ice-pop. “I’ve been sunburnt in places I never have been before, but it’s mostly fine.”

“Wow, sexy.”

“Bet Ron loved hearing you say that to me.”

“I’m sorry Harry, you want to do what to me? Put that where?”

“Gin-“

“No, we couldn’t in my room, there’s not enough room. Lounge is better, more space. On the dining table.”

Harry could hardly talk. “Stop,” he choked, “He’ll never speak to me again.”

“He left when I said the bit about the lounge, said I was being ‘very immature.’”

Andromeda, desperate to get out, away, gone, bought the land in Australia six months after the war ended. She’d said it was because she’d always liked the heat, but when Harry got there he knew why. He’d never seen anywhere so unlike England, the Australian countryside was all scorched earth, red dirt, dry trees. It could have been a different planet entirely.

He’d followed her six months later to be with Teddy, who at almost a year had hair permanently sunshine yellow, except when it rained it went as grey as concrete. Harry liked the spiders, sand, sunburn of it all. Sometimes, dumbly, he found himself missing sheets of rain, but only when it was so hot he could barely see straight.

Mostly he liked how there was nothing to do there, nowhere he had to be. He was teaching himself how to drive, burying things for Teddy to sniff out (dog nose), going into the tiny town to talk to Ginny on the post office phone, and helping Andromeda build a shed out the back. He’d never used magic less. The days were long and the nights were longer, but it was so different here that that too felt right.

He didn’t know when he’d go home. He kept meaning to set a date and then just didn’t, and then everyone stopped asking. It was stupid, but he felt like he’d know when he was done.

“Dad won’t let me see the phone bill,” Ginny said, picking up on the third ring and not saying hello, “It arrived this morning and he’s been locked in his office all morning with it.”

“Oh, God, I can-“

“Don’t you dare offer to pay for it. I don’t even think it’s that much, I think he’s just trying to recreate the logo at the top or something.”

“I-“

“Stop trying to pay for it- “

“I’m not– “ Harry, who had been, was silent. Then: “Gin, please-“

“No- “

“But- “

“Shut up-“ she said, unbothered, “Mum asked if you got the stuff she sent.”

“I did, the biscuits were excellent. And the tea bags” Harry had cleaned out the tin so Teddy could use it as a hat, which he had been wearing for two days now.

“I told her they already had tea in Australia but she didn’t believe me.”

Harry smiled, “I didn’t mind.”

“She said that even if they did have tea they wouldn’t have English Breakfast, or they would call it something crazy like ‘Australian Outback Breakfast’.”

“How thoughtful of her.”

“Stop being nice about it, it’s ridiculous.”

“It was nice of her.”

“Australian Outback Breakfast, Harry”

“I hate tea and hate that it was graciously sent to me by your mum.” Harry obliged.

“There we go. Killed any snakes yet?”

“Oh yeah, loads. Bears too.”

He could hear her smiling, “Bears, huh?”

“All in your honour.”

“Naturally. Still no success in seducing Millie?”

Harry looked around to the post office reception desk, a stones-throw away from the phone, to where Millie– middle-aged, cardiganed, glasses– was pretending to read the paper and not hate him.

“Haven’t you heard? Wedding’s in the Spring.”

“Damn. Well, we had it good there for a while but true love always wins.”

He laughed, and Millie gave him a look. He waved. She ignored him and went back to the paper.

Ron sent letters, barely legible, by owls that had to be nursed back to health in the bath.

Harry,

Sorry for the writing but I’m on the muggle train because we’re going to Ireland for a few days to stay with her Hermione’s Aunt because she’s ‘dying to meet me’ (???). Anyway, Hermione also says to tell you that Ginny is thinking of cutting a fringe, because apparently that’s important. Apparently girls do that in a crisis, or whatever, she’ll write and explain it.

Ginny is basically living at ours now. The other day she put a Hollyhead Harpies poster up in the living room and when I tried to charm it off all the players screaming at me like Sirius’s fucking mum, so I just moved the cabinet in front of it. Bloody nightmare.

Honestly it isn’t even half bad having her around, she knows all these drinking games and set up your room and sometimes has a go reading over Hermione’s policy reports to the Ministry when I’ve sworn off them. Do not tell her I don’t mind her being round she’ll be annoying about it. I’m getting that Harpies poster off the wall.

Hope Teddy is good and everyone is demanding more photos as usual. All Victorie has to do is chew the carpet around here and everyone gets a bit teary, including me. George jinxed Perce’s glasses into binonoulars the other day and for a weird second everything felt like before and Vic giggled and then George looked like he’d been hit the fucking nightbus. I don’t even know how to explain it– kids really just have no idea about any of it.

Hope Andromeda is good and that the driving is going better. Dad’s framing all of the phone bills he gets which Gin probably already mentioned but I can’t tell you how weird it is to go into my old room and it’s just a bunch of framed bills. Hermione says hello which I’ve already written but she said I didn’t make it clear enough.

We miss you mate. Home soon yeah?

Ron

Often, he thought of the week he’d told them he was leaving. Hermione, drunk, talking to Ginny on the patio of the burrow when she thought everyone was inside. It makes sense, really, she’d said, He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Ron had looked at him and then loudly dropped his firewhiskey and the girls had jumped, turned around, stopped talking, but still. He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Huh.

“How’s driving?”

“Oh, fine. I killed a swan.” Harry said, demoralised. Ginny laughed for a good two minutes.

“What?”

“I hit the wrong pedal and speed up instead of slowing down. I didn’t know what to do so I just moved it off to the side of the road.”

“Ah, the Boy who Lived strikes again.”

“Stop,” He was smiling, “What if Teddy had seen it?”

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“

“–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Andromeda was in her garden a lot. Getting anything to grow was near impossible, but she wouldn’t stop working at it. She kept saying that soon they’d be able to have a green beans salad, so Harry just drove to a market and stuck a few green beans in the ground to make her laugh. As a sort of joke they’d started calling the land ‘the farm’ even though nothing ever grew here.

They took Teddy to the ocean for the first time and his eyes went blue the second he saw it. The beach where they’d buried Dobby was overcast, water as grey as dishwater, but here the it glittered like glass, blue light come alive. Teddy sat in the shallows, trying to flatten waves with his fists, laughing.

Andromeda sat on a towel by the dunes under an enormous hat, tears running down her face, abruptly laughing when Teddy tried to eat sand or fell over a sandcastle. Harry knew how she felt. Impossible, how two years ago Teddy had two living parents and Harry had been seventeen, dead and walking, and now they were sat on the beach, people they loved dead for real, as Harry and Teddy lined up shells on the shore.

It was three in the morning but Harry snuck in through a backdoor, cloak on, having to jimmy the lock because he forgot his wand. The streets were pitch black, only three streetlights in the whole main street, with two of them not working anyway.

“Why’re you awake?” Ginny said lightning quick, knowing the time difference by heart, and Harry’s chest unlocked. It was stupidly comforting, Ginny’s voice, how she never said hello on the phone because she never learned, how if he really made her laugh she’d hold the receiver away from her, like he wasn’t desperate to hear it.

“I thought I saw Sirius today,” he couldn’t stop himself, “There was a dog on the farm and it was huge and I thought– I forgot he was dead. Isn’t that stupid?”

There was only Ginny’s breath down the phone. Picture: her in the kitchen, gripping the receiver, still. The memory looped in his brain, how Sirius’ name had risen in his throat, how odd it felt there, how long it had been since he’d said it aloud.

“No.” He almost didn’t hear her it’s so quiet, “I went to the shop yesterday and asked Ron if Fred was in the back. I forget too.”

His heart slowed, the memory of the shop: solid and real, running again, made for laughing, rose up, only then he shut his eyes and saw everyone laid out in rows, glassy eyes, and somehow he was walking through the forest again, going to die, but not soon enough–

“Harry.” Ginny’s voice, dragging him back to earth, “You did everything you could. Sirius knew. Everyone knew. No one could have done better.” She sounded so sure, voice as clear as glass, he’d be a fool not to believe her, “It hurts because they loved us. They loved us. That’s the part to remember.”

“You are kidding-!” This time Harry didn’t say hello.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Harpies reserve!” Harry was yelling in the post office and Millie looked appalled, “They’ll promote you in two weeks, you genius, I knew it– “

“I’m sorry I really have no idea who this is.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“I sent the letter!” Ginny dropped the joke, indignant.

“We spoke two days ago! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me then–”

“–I sent our fastest owl.”

“Marius is currently passed out in the sink–“

Ginny laughed, “I wanted you to get the letter,” she said, finally, “I wanted you to see it. Did you see Madeline McKinnon signed it?”

She sounded like a kid. He grinned. “I did.”

“Best beater this century sent a letter to my house, asking me to be on her team. Madness. The English team are after her you know, it’s all over the Prophet.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to send the letter back because I think that really will finish Marius off.”

“Please, you think I sent the real thing? Dad made twenty copies. He hung two on Ron and Hermione’s fridge and sent one to Aunty Muriel.”

Harry grinned, “You’re brilliant, I’m hanging my copy on the front door, framed.”

“The moving logo may cause problems for the muggles”

“Who cares? I want to tell everyone about this. Chaser for the Harpies–“

“I’m a reserve.”

“For now.” He could hear her smile through the phone, “What did everyone say?”

“Ron said I was a traitor and that he was also proud. Mum cried. Hermione promised to actually watch a game, George reminded me about nicking his broom all that time so technically he was also partly on the team, Bill bought a season pass, Charlie hung a giant Harpies poster in his shite apartment and sent a photo, Luna sent me awful flowers that won’t stop smoking, and Percy called to congratulate me on my admission to the ‘Hollygrove Harps.’”

Harry laughed, “Incredible.”

“Yeah, Perce’s was particularly heartfelt.”

Harry,

I’m sat at the dining table and everyone’s still here, but Mum wanted me to recap Charlie’s birthday dinner right now because she doesn’t want you to miss anything. Hermione also agreed with this mental idea.

Dinner Summary:

Food was good

Hermione tried to explain the electric collage or whatever decides American elections to Dad, it was stupid.

Hermione says it was electoral college not the eccentric cage or whatever I wrote

George got Charlie a life-size model of the Horntail that he almost opened in the house. Mum had a fit.

Dad told a story about how the Muggle Foreign Minister ended up with a bathtub cursed to drown anyone in it.

Ginny wants me to say Percy is wearing a cardigan Millie would be proud of. I do not know what this means. Better not be a sex thing.

Hermione says hello (again she insisted I write this down like it isn’t obvious)

Mum wants me to say we all miss you still (again, obvious)

She also wants to know if you need her to make you any shorts (do not answer this)

Charlie wants to say cheers for the gift – apparently they only do that burn cream in Australia and it’s hard to come by

George doesn’t have anything to say he just wanted to be involved so I’ve written this so he’ll bugger off.

I’m bloody sending this now, I feel like a quick quotes quill (Fleur asks how you are). Have a good one mate.

Home soon yeah?

Ron.

Sometimes, when he was driving home from the post-office just after the sunset, everything sat in the new-dark, he’d remember when he used to be on watch, sat in front of the tent holding Hermione’s wand with everything going wrong, and how only then he’d let himself think about Ginny. Her voice, long laugh, longer legs, telling him to move over, pass the milk, look left, met her later, skip that flashcard, relax, put Luna in as chaser if it all goes arse up– she’s Ravenclaw but I’ll vouch for her. Dumb hours spent on the Quidditch pitch, sun going down, watching her get shot after shot past him like she even needed the practise. C’mon Potter at least try to save these, you’re making Ron look like Wood. Her hair everywhere, laughing, head back, both of them impossibly far from the ground

I really don’t want to die, Harry would think in the dark, wand out, ready for it, I really don’t want to die and miss out on you

Harry,

Sorry I couldn’t call but everything’s been nuts here and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to talk to you. Malcotti’s fucked her ankle so I may actually get put in for a game?? She’s been told to take it easy for a week and we play the Magpies in four days, so?? I’ll let you know when I can call. I’m currently writing this at the post-office desk and running late for practise.

Sidenote: this express owl cost me four galleons so I hope it does a dance on its arrival or at least arrives within the day. Tell Andromeda hello and that I’m still rooting for the green beans. Also, good luck for the driving test!! I’m sure you won’t hit anything living or dead and/or drive into a lake, but also if you do just confund the instructor. I solemnly swear not to tell Hermione.

Thinking of you. Kiss Teddy for me,

Gin

The click of the receiver: “I only have five minutes, we’re about to eat.”

Harry smiled, “How’s home?”

“Absolutely nothing to note. Victorie threw up on Bill yesterday, so that was a joy.”

“Supportive as usual.”

“Hey, I am supportive.” Harry could tell the phone was jammed between her shoulder and her ear, heard a knife on a cutting board, “Supportive of Victorie’s right to throw up on Bill whenever she wants.”

“Are you cooking?”

“I’m cutting potatoes by hand to avoid the lounge because Fleur and Mum are talking about how to discipline children.”

“Sounds tense.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Ron had to pretend to be on the phone with you earlier for ten minutes just to get out of there. He says hi– fuck!”

Harry heard the phone fall, “Ginny?”

A scrambling on the other end, distantly: “You’re bleeding on the potatoes!”

“Hi,” Ginny’s voice, a little breathless, “I cut myself.”

“You alright?” Harry asked, quick-shot.

“Oh, yeah. Just blood. Admirably everyone is showing a lot of concern” (Percy’s voice, distant and mournfully, “well there’s no way we can eat these now”)

He thought about going home sometimes, about the flat with Ron and Hermione he was currently paying for that he’d never lived in, what he’d do back in England. No one had ever come out to visit him here, some unspoken agreement they’d all made to give him space. Except, knowing Ron and Hermione and Mrs Weasley and he’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted to it probably was very much spoken, it’s just he wasn’t there for it.

The thing is, if he went home that meant no more seeing Teddy every day, sitting around eating cereal, watching him walk into walls or turn his nails pink, giving him ice cream for lunch and strap him into the truck, driving around the farm doing spins just to make him laugh. Even after all this time Australia was so far from the familiar, every night him and Andromeda sat on the deck lazily casting cooling charms, looking at all the stars.

On full moons Teddy got in bed with all the curtains open, blinds up, just to look at the moon. He couldn’t sleep unless he saw it. Harry wondered if he ever did anything like that, got pulled towards something of his parents without realising it. Quidditch, probably. Looking for something without knowing, not sure what you were really missing. Teddy’s huge eyes, the moon, and that familiar feeling: Stop, wait, I can’t believe I’ll never see you again. Come back, I wasn’t done yet. I don’t know how to do it without you.

It was pitch-black, four in the morning Queensland time, but it had been the only time she’d had free. Harry was leaning against the booth wall, letting the cloak slip, exhausted. Ginny cleared her throat in an odd way.

“So, you know I hate asking about this. It makes me– I don’t want to be that person” She sounded, wrong, uncomfortable, like white knuckles gripping the receiver, “But everyone’s been asking and I want– when do you think you’ll be coming home?”

Harry was quiet. All this time away– almost a year, eleven months, it occurred to him– and she’d never asked. She was the only one who hadn’t. “Oh, I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She said, unreadable. A beat went past, and Harry could feel the shift, how that was the wrong thing. He could hear her breathing. “Do you want– if you want, we could take a break-“

“No” Harry said, so fast, “No, no I don’t want that. Do you want that?”

“No. No. I just– I don’t want this to be difficult. I don’t want you to feel, like– obligated. If you want like room away from everything I get it. Just tell me– I don’t want– Just tell me.”

Harry’s heart was going into his chest like an endlessly slamming door. How to explain it? You wouldn’t believe the space here, all this room, all this time I have. I didn’t think I’d get it. I want space but never from you.

“I’m not with you because I feel obligated. I’m– That isn’t how I feel. I don’t want space or a break or anything.”

Silence, endless, pouring down the phone. He could be sick. Then, Ginny’s voice: “Okay.”

“I’m coming back to England, Gin. I’m coming back, just, when I’m– when I’m done. I’m coming home. Soon.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure that this– that this is still good.”

“It is.” He was so stupid. A war ends and everything finally works out, everyone safe for real, and he goes running to the other side of the world and doesn’t say when he’s coming home. Ginny, at home, getting a phone wired up just to call him. He had no luck for seventeen years and then it all came at once, and now he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I love you,” he said, which he never said because it felt heavy, full of gravity, and he spent all his time trying to make her laugh.

Deep breath. He could hear her shoulders unknotting through the phone. “I love you too.”

“Harry?”

“Ron?”

“Can you hear me? Is this?– how do I know if this is on?”

“It’s on,” Harry said, hurriedly, “Is everything alright?”

“I tried to give Pig a letter for you this morning and he bit me and flew into the window.” Harry started laughing, “So I thought I’d try give him a break.”

Harry pulled himself together, “Yeah maybe that’s for the best. How are you?”

“Oh, the usual. The shop is still nuts so Hermione stopped by to help out on Saturday and ate half a Bile Biscuit thinking it was shortbread– hilarious. George threatened to charge her. If Ginny’s not at a practise she’s at our place drinking all the milk, and Luna came by the other day and threw all the stuff in the fridge out because she said it was infected with ‘Mimilice’. You?”

“The same. Teddy turned his leg into the end of a snake the other day and I had a fit. Andromeda put him in the sink so he couldn’t slither away before phasing back. It’s currently 39 degrees.” Ron laughed.

“God, even your voice sounds hot.”

“Woah, mate. I’m seeing someone and so are you.”

“Ha ha.” Ron said sarcastically, “I wish I could turn this up so everyone in the empty living room could have heard that.”

“Please don’t try to use the speaker phone, you’ll accidentally dial the embassy or something.”

“’Speaker phone’? What could the phone have to say?”

Teddy turned two and Andromeda make him a cake by hand with a spider on it that moved. He blew out the candles and looked bemused, sat in a top Hermione had sent, still holding onto a scrap of ribbon. Harry took him outside and sat him on his Nimbus Seven Series, entirely too long, and Teddy did slow circles while Harry held the end, watching him laugh, tiny hands grasping the handle. Suddenly, like being thrown through a window, Remus was in front of him, standing in the Hogwarts Hallway, breathless and happy, saying his sons name.

The post office has been closing for a good fifteen minutes, but Harry brought the cloak, pretended to leave, then snuck back and picked up the phone again.

“I think I just saw Millie’s husband.”

“You’re kidding.”

“A guy came to pick her up, he had a hat on, she got in the front seat–“

“What kind of hat?”

“I don’t know, normal. Like a normal old-person hat.”

“You didn’t say he was old.”

Harry grinned, “You really thought Millie seemed the type to be with a 25-year-old?”

“Hey, you’re going out with me after all–“

Harry spluttered, “I’m a year older!”

“Year and a half–“

“You’re unbelievable. That is not the same.”

“Just because you like younger women–“

“I don’t like younger women, I like you, or I did until a few minutes ago. I’m now reconsidering.”

“You like me.” Ginny said, not really serious but also deadly so.

Harry smiled, said dryly, “What gave me away?”

Harry had started dreaming of home, the staring in the street, dishes washing themselves in the Burrow, Hogwarts lake dark and silky as eels. He couldn’t tell what had brought this on, only that he was now driving into town every day to talk to Ginny, and now Ron, Hermione, even Neville were coming to the phone.

“They miss you” Andromeda said, unprompted, drinking muggle wine on the deck one night after dinner, “Molly wrote last week asking if you mentioned when you’d be coming back.”

“Oh,” Harry said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. “Do you think you’ll come back?”

The question hung between them. Terrible thought: Teddy never back in England, Teddy growing up where Harry couldn’t see him.

“I will.” She looked back at him, unbearably, and it was everything that went unsaid.

“How?” Harry asked, unthinking.

Andromeda looked back out the window, the pressing dark, the unbearable heat. Even after all this time, making dinner, sitting on the dark deck, weeding the garden, she was still unreadable. Grief undid you in layers.

“Because Nymphadora would want me to.” She said, simply. “Because I want her to think I’m brave.”

The post office shuts for a week because Millie goes out of town, and the place is small enough that that means it’s not open till she gets back. Harry makes it four days before apparating hundreds of miles away, almost splinching himself in the heat, dizzy from lack of practise, and stumbling to a payphone at the side of a highway.

Click. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, I went out of town to call.”

“Out of town huh? Miss me that much?” Ginny’s voice, joking.

Unbelievably, Harry thought. “Yeah well, Teddy isn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll knock his confidence.”

“He’ll get past it. How are you?”

“Fine. Well– actually, you won’t believe what happened at practise on Thursday, I hope you’re sitting down–“

“I’m not–” Harry grinned

“Squat then,” Ginny said blithely, “because Jacqueline has actually gone full bonkers–“

“My parents say its incredible “ Hermione’s voice, the only person in his life who spoke in a normal tone on the phone

“Yeah, we’ve been actually.” Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that Teddy had found the Great Ocean Road blindingly boring and had only made it an hour in before him and Andromeda had decided it wasn’t worth the screaming anymore.

“Yeah, Mum and Dad were thinking of coming down, doing it again.”

Harry played along, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She was endearingly fake-casual, “Maybe Ron and I would come too.”

“Ron wants to drive 150 miles along a stretch of boring road with your parents?”

“You didn’t say it was boring.”

“Slip of the tongue,” Harry smiled, “What about the Ministry? And the shop?”

“We’re thinking about doing travelling.”

“The year we spent in a tent in various country-sides not enough?”

“Funnily enough seeing the sights wasn’t top of mind then.”

Harry smiled darkly, “If we’re going travelling let’s do Italy, or America, or something. Soon. Somewhere none of us have ever been.”

Hermione left it a beat too long for it to be a normal silence, “I heard Italy is beautiful, the history there is incredible…”

Harry could almost hear talking to Ron later: “and then he said if we’re going travelling, ‘we’re’, Ron! And ‘soon’! he thinks he’ll be travelling with us ‘soon’!. And Ron, “so you didn’t ask when he’s coming back then?, and then Hermione: “didn’t you hear? soon! He said soon!”

He was walking back to the car from the post office one day, Teddy plodding beside him infatuated with a passing goose, with Ginny’s voice still swimming around him, the sound of Ron telling her to shut up, pass the receiver, I’ve got to tell him the Cannons score, and he walked into the travel agents and booked one-way ticket to England for next week. Just like that.

Stupid, really, how he heard their voices all the time (walking in the street, making a sandwich, fixing the plumbing) but had never made the connection. He was in the street like always, hearing the call all again, and thought I wish they were here for real, and then walked into the air-conditioning and pulled out his chequebook. It really was that easy. The goose was still outside when he left holding his ticket, Teddy squirming to get closer to it with a full-on beak that Harry was trying to hide with one hand.

Home soon Harry thought the whole drive home, the thought expanding in his chest, the window open, his hair blowing everywhere– longer than it had ever been. Even when he got back to the farm, told Andromeda (who promised to follow in a year), made dinner, went to bed, he imagined he would feel different. Something huge and unfelt before, but really everything was the the same as ever. He just missed them, is all. He was learning that sometimes love really was that simple, that it was reason enough.

“I read that people sometimes make signs at airports.”

Harry smiled, phone cord wrapped around his palm. “Saying what?”

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry, no magic involved. We don’t want to alarm the muggles. Luna asked if she could bring her lion hat but Hermione got intervened.”

“Luna’s coming?”

“Yes, duh. Everyone is. It’s been a year a half.”

Harry, who had had visions of kissing Ginny ridiculously for an hour in front of the plane, adjusted his expectations.

Ginny, as usual, reading his mind: “Don’t worry. I’ve briefed Ron that I’ll still be kissing you senseless so he had better start getting over it.”

Harry grinned, “Bet he loved that.”

“He called me a cocksucker, and then I pointed out that actually I hadn’t been in a year and a half–“

“Gin!”

“–and he said my name exactly like that, yeah.”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing, bright red in the post office for the last time as Millie shushed him, “You are unbelievable.”

“Well, believe me.” she said, dryly, “I’ll be seeing you in 29 hours.”

Harry, also counting, ducked his head, grinning. It turned out all his best luck was waiting at this part of his life, who knew. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God.

“I’m going to be totally unusable, you know. The flight’s twenty-one hours.”

“Yeah, you’re an idiot. I know you’re on a whole no-magic kick but this really is the limit. What are you going to eat?”

“Hermione says they serve eggs and stuff.”

“Wow, really? How?”

Harry considered. “I actually have no idea. Maybe please bring some chips or something to the airport.”

Ginny laughed, the best sound in the world, “Only if you bring me some eggs.”

#sorry this is late sorry to all my unanswered messages i had to post this today i had to get it away from me!!!#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #otp: several sunlit days #i have to run everyone is waiting on me sorry everyone i love you all lots i turn 21 in three days who could believe it!!!#carolineswritingtag

618 notes · View notes

fernweh-writes · 3 years

Note

Hi dear, I hope you are doing well ♥ Could you please write headcanon how would slashers react to their s/o having a panic fear of spiders? Like she always freezes or scream when she sees even a really small spider.

(today I freaked out, when I saw the eight-legged monster above my bed and wish I had some big stabby men here, who would save me :) )

Spiders simply have to many legs and to many eyes

-Fern🌿

Slashers X S/O With Arachnophobia

Michael Myers

He simply cannot understand why you’re afraid of spiders. You’re not afraid of a giant man who murders people, but you’re scared of a tiny insect with eight legs? Yeah, okay, makes sense.

The first time he sees you screaming and freaking out over a spider, he thinks that it’s hilarious. Michael has never seen you so scared of anything before. Not even he managed to get that kind of reaction from you when he was considering killing you. It amuses him that you’re so afraid of a bug.

When you scream for him it never fails to freak him out. He thinks that you’re in danger. So when he just sees you pointing at the spider he considers letting you suffer and deal with it on your own.

Once he’s done watching you have your bug breakdown he will kill it for you. It is his job to protect you after all and while he does occasionally enjoy seeing the fear in your eyes, he would much rather you fear him. That small bug is stealing his thunder, so it has got to go.

Bo Sinclair

There is most definitely plenty of spiders in Ambrose. Majority of the places are run down on the inside, which makes them a safe haven for creepy crawlies. So unfortunately for you, there will be plenty of encounters with the eight legged horrors that are spiders.

The first time Bo hears you scream he panics, thinking that you’re in danger. So when he finds you pointing at a spider, it’s safe to say that he is a little bit upset.

At the same time he also finds it endearing and loves that you come running to him to save you. It shows that you trust him to protect you, even from little nuisances.

But still, even though he does think you’re being dramatic he’s quick to squash them. Bo knows that there’s plenty of spiders in Louisiana that could be dangerous and land you in the ER so he’s more than happy to handle them for you.

Be prepared for Bo to give you hell about your fear though. “What are you so scared for darlin’? The thing ain’t but the size of a dime, if that.”

Vincent Sinclair

He spends most of his time in dark, cool tunnels underground. There’s spiders absolutely everywhere in his workshop, Vincent is just used to them at this point.

Vincent does his best to keep you up in the house after the first time a spider crawls over your leg and you loose your mind. That effort lasted about all of one day considering he hates working alone now and misses your presence. Knowing that you want to be with him also doesn’t help his resolve any.

Used to try and save the spiders but eventually gave up. There’s simply to many of them in Ambrose, so saving them just doesn’t do any good.

Luckily, Vincent takes your fear of spiders very seriously. So anytime you call upon him to save you from the eight legged nuisances he is always quick to oblige.

If you interrupt his work though it may annoy him a little bit but he’ll never let you know that. He knows that you can’t help your phobia, but don’t expect him to stick around after he finishes the job. May also get a little bit of an attitude afterwards as well but always ends up apologizing.

Brahms Heelshire

Spiders don’t phase Brahms. He lives in the walls with plenty of them and has more than likely come to appreciate them. Which is very surprising for Brahms. So sometimes he tries to save the spiders and move them outside. Unless he’s been bitten by one.

If Brahms has been bitten by a spider before then it just turns into the two of you freaking out and arguing over who has to kill the spider.

“Be a gentleman, Brahms! You kill the spider.” “No! You kill it, you’re the one being paid!”

If you don’t want to deal with the spiders, all it takes is Malcolm stepping on one for you one time when you started freaking out. Brahms saw you thank him for it and got jealous. Now Brahms is your official protector from creepy crawlies, not Malcolm.

Thomas Hewitt

You’re going to have to get over your fear of spiders if you want to live in the Hewitt house. The old place does a terrible job of keeping the bugs outside so you’ll see them scurrying across the floor pretty frequently.

You know what they say, everything is bigger in Texas. Turns out, the spiders are no exception, so good luck.

Thomas is very busy and handles most of the chores for the family. He doesn’t have the time to run to your rescue every time you see a spider.

When he is with you he won’t hesitate to kill them for you though. Thomas isn’t afraid of people with weapons, why should he be afraid of a small critter with eight legs?

Luda Mae would honestly just look at you like your stupid if you tell her about your fear. Nonetheless any spider she sees it quickly whacked with an old newspaper before you even have a chance to see it.

Billy Loomis

“How come you never scream for me like that, babe?”

Billy thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that you’re afraid of something so small. You can date a murderer but an eight legged bug is where you draw the line?

While he loves to tease you about it, he will still save you from the spiders. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t? “Ask nicely and I might kill it for you.” “You’ll kill people but not the spider?” “You know what, just for that you can kill it yourself. Have fun!” Or maybe not…

Walks away but circles right back around when he hears you freaking out again. Then he gets dramatic about everything and starts huffing and rolling his eyes at you.

Stu Macher

Much like Billy, Stu teases you but in a less condescending way. Stu keeps his teasing more lighthearted, he just has a tendency to go to far with it from time to time.

Is also very dramatic and makes a whole scene out of killing the spider for you. Acts like he’s your knight in shining armor.

On the bright side, him being a complete dork distracts you from the spider. Unlike some people *cough cough Billy* he doesn’t delay the part where he kills the spider.

However, he does expect payment for saving you and protecting you from the big bad arachnid. It’s okay he accepts cuddles and kisses as a form of payment.

Jesse Cromeans

He has spent to much time on his murder sprees in the Deep South to be scared of spiders. Everyone knows that the south has plenty of deadly spiders and Jesse sin;t fazed by any of them so you can count on him to keep you safe.

There aren’t any spiders in his house either. Jesse has to much money to allow any sort of bugs get anywhere close to his house. Any time you see a spider within the house it’s most likely already dead anyways.

Jesse finds your fear of the bugs cute. It makes you seem so innocent. His sweet kitten isn’t afraid of him or what he does but they’re afraid of a tiny little spider.

Asa Emory

Asa doesn’t fear spiders, the spiders fear him.

Unlike the other slashers, Asa doesn’t tolerate bug homicide. Any time you find a spider in the house you better let him know so that he can safely get rid of it.

Some times he’ll keep the spiders that find their way into the house. Spiders are his favorite after all and native species are important for the environment.

Sadly, he would use your fear against you if he deems it necessary. As long as you listen to him though, there won’t be any issue.

386 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

“Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.

#exophilia #fae #faerie #fae boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #Fae lover

157 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA.

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave.

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?”

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable.

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed.

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend.

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially.

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid; when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that.

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks.

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras.

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man.

“You good?” His answer was predictable.

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands.

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other.

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end.

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything.

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away.

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph.

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt.

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his.

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing.

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else.

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

289 notes · View notes

shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Epilogue to: You Are So Screwed

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x the Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Life after the gang found out that Terrans are ticklish.

Author’s Note: This is an epilogue to You Are So Screwed. I recommend reading that story first if you haven’t yet!

Word Count: 1,486

Epilogue:

It didn’t take long for the others to find opportunities to torment you and Peter with their newfound trick.

Mantis would often sneak up behind and startle you with surprise tickles for no reason other than she just couldn’t get over how adorable you were when you giggled and squirmed away.

You were on the receiving end of this more often than Peter, however. Probably because you couldn’t find it in yourself to actually yell at her for it. She was never merciless and her tickles were always brief and light hearted, so you supposed you could get over it.

Rocket, on the other hand, was truly evil.

As would be expected, Peter was the first to make the mistake of calling Rocket a raccoon in a fit of frustration only a few days after Rocket learned about his new Terran weakness.

You watched on as you saw Rocket’s expression turn from angry to one of smug mischief. He gave Groot a look which Groot seemed to understand.

Peter didn’t even have a chance to notice what was happening, much less get away, before Groot extended his vines and had him pinned down on the ground. Rocket wasted no time and immediately dug in, reducing Peter to squealing laughter in no time at all, all the while taunting him with “Not so tough now, are you Star-Munch?!” and “This will teach you!”

Peter let out a particularly loud screech when Rocket dug in under his arms which prompted Gamora and Kraglin to come running to see what was the matter. When they came to find that Peter was only being tickled by Rocket they merely rolled their eyes and laughed. Peter cried out for one of them to please get the “Rabid Raccoon” off of him, but of course this only made things much worse. Rocket doubled his efforts in his attack stating that Peter was going to really get it now.

Kraglin and Gamora laughed harder at this and walked away, leaving Peter to his squealing torture until eventually Rocket had his fill, ending the torture by making Peter beg for mercy and promise that he’d never call him a raccoon again. At the end of it Peter was completely breathless and decided to just curl up and take a nap right there on the floor. You quickly but quietly backed out of the room before Rocket remembered you were there, just in case he got any ideas.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the next day it was clear Peter was really getting the short end of the stick.

Word got around the ship that Gamora found out the hard way that tickling Peter first thing in the morning to force him out of bed probably wasn’t the best idea.

Sure, it seemed effective in waking the Terran man up from a stubborn sleep, but that didn't mean that there weren’t consequences.

After Peter refused to wake up, Gamora straddled him and attacked his ribs, quickly getting his attention. It didn’t take long for him to begin pleading for her to stop. However, Gamora decided not to stop right away. This ‘tickling’ thing was quite intriguing, and she knew he was only whining out of annoyance, right?

Wrong.

It quickly became a new guideline that morning that if the Terrans start whining that they need to pee, you’re definitely going to want to stop tickling them. Because reasons.

For obvious reasons Peter didn’t really want to talk about it. In fact, he didn’t really talk to anyone at all that whole morning.

A few days later after the whole embarrassing incident with Peter had been pretty much forgotten, Gamora, Drax, and yourself decided to hop in the Benatar to go on a supply run with Peter. The rest of the team decided to stay back on the quadrant ship.

You managed to forget to bring your book, so to stave off boredom you decided to create a little mischief to occupy yourself. You filled your time with throwing random small objects at Peter (quickly turning away each time as if you hadn’t done so), and forcing bad puns into conversation. This lasted about an hour before Drax stood up and walked over to where you sat still strapped into your seat.

“You are being annoying.” He said, matter-of-factly, strangely without a hint of annoyance to be found anywhere in his voice.

“Yes?” you raised an eyebrow, unsure where this was going.

“It’s still a confusing matter, but if I understand correctly, I should do this to make you stop.” He grabbed your arm by the wrist and lifted it up over your head.

You were momentarily confused, but it quickly became clear what he was up to when he began spidering his fingers in your underarm.

You squealed and squirmed in your seat, trying to push his tickling fingers away, but of course Drax is literally the strongest on the ship, you stood no chance. He didn’t even have to try. “Drax! Quit it!” you giggled, your feet kicking against the metal floor of the cockpit. “No fair!”

Drax turned to Peter. “Am I correct, Peter? You Earthers use tickling if someone is annoying? Like a mild punishment?”

“Close enough.” Peter laughed.

“Peter says this is fair.” Drax said, now laughing with you as he continued.

"Peter!” you whined, busy grabbing Drax’s wrist and attempting to push his hand away. For someone who didn’t understand tickling, he was surprisingly good at it. You were doing your best to slide down your seat to get away from your torment, all the while your heels still scraped the floor as you kicked out and laughed.

Drax let go of your wrist and moved to tickling your ribs.

You squeaked and squirmed more, too preoccupied with attempting to grab his hands to try and unbuckle yourself to get away. Drax smiled. He thought he could see now why everyone else thought this was so funny. You looked absolutely adorable with the way your nose crinkled and your eyes squinted shut.

“Drax! Wait! Please! Haha! PETER!” you squealed, doubling over as best you could with your seatbelt and giggling adorably.

After a few more moments Peter finally decided to show mercy. “Alright, Drax. I think she’s learned her lesson.” he laughed.

Drax relented and returned to his seat to strap in for landing, leaving you to catch your breath. “I think I see now why everyone else enjoys that so much. It’s adorable,” he said.

As far as Yondu and Kraglin were concerned, because they had already known about it, the novelty had already worn off years ago. Therefore, unlike with the others, you and Peter were generally safe around them when it came to the increased random tickle attacks you were now receiving upon the rest of the gang’s discovery. Though they did occasionally throw more pokes and rib tweaks you guy’s way now just to be annoying.

However, that’s not to say that Yondu had forgotten what Mantis had told him about how she had felt that despite your threats, you and Peter didn’t actually hate being tickled that much. He secretly started using it almost as a reward at times, if you or Peter had just finished helping him with something, he’d give a brief playful tickle to your tummy or the back of your necks while teasingly praising you for “doing such a good job.” You’d always playfully swat him away and Peter would do the same, though usually acting more cranky because he’s “a grown man, dang it!” and “too old for that! Geeze!” He didn’t know what Mantis had told Yondu, but even if he had, he likely wouldn’t admit it in a million years, because again, “he’s too old for that!” Sure, Peter. Sure.

One day after you helped Yondu with something in the kitchen and he playfully tickled for your good job, you laughed out, “If I did such a good job why do you always tickle me after!”

He gave you a knowing grin and tickled you some more, saying. “’Cause Mantis told me another secret. You and Peter might make threats and complain, but apparently ya’ll ‘don’t completely hate being tickled’ after all.”

Your face got red as you managed a “Shut up. Quit it!” through your giggles. Yondu laughed, able to tell the change in your color wasn’t wasn’t from your own laughter.

“I’ll take that as an admission.” He chuckled, ceasing his attack on your belly.

You straightened up, face still blushed and lightly punched him in the arm.

“Don’t ya worry,” he said, pulling you into a side hug. “This one can stay between us. Ya don’t gotta be embarrassed about it.”

“Promise?” you asked, still blushing.

He grinned, pulling you tighter into the hug for a moment before surprising you with another brief tickle to your tummy, eliciting a happy squeak from you. “Ya, promise.”

#GOTG FANFIC #epilouge #gotg fic #Guardians of the Galaxy #yondu x reader #x reader #peter quill #gamora #Drax The Destroyer #Drax #drax x reader #mantis #mantis x reader #groot #kraglin obfonteri #fluffy fanfiction #fluff #cute tickles #tickles

146 notes · View notes

tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 3 years

Text

This whole thing came from the single thought of “Wait, can I think of a single fic where Roman is actually a prince?” which was followed with “What if Roman was the Faerie Prince in LAOFT?” The thought wouldn’t leave me be until I wrote it down, and I figured, hey, since I wrote it down, might as well share it. (I think everyone here is sympathetic, because that’s how we roll.)

Now, without further ado, I give you… LAOFT role swap au headcanons!

In which Roman and Remus were Lords of the Forest until a mortal witch came between them. Roman, who had always views the humans as nothing more than, say, characters in a story (small and rather unimpressive), learns one, to never piss off a teenager with a sharp tongue, and two, the meaning of ~friendship~ when a somewhat cocky witch strolls into their forest. Remus, who rarely showed interest in humans aside from the occasional “game,” becomes worried that this witch is going to take his brother from him (be that by the witch betraying Roman, or by Roman choosing his human sister over his faerie brother), and acts accordingly, which, for Remus, probably means a murder attempt or four. Furious that his brother attempted to harm his friend, Roman retaliates. Unlike in LAOFT, where Dee uses trickery to incapacitate Virgil, Remus goes for more of a blunt-force route (see: their first canonical interaction, where Remus hits Roman over the head with a morningstar). Roman is put in the casket though one method or another. Remus probably viewed the whole thing as a prank or sorts, where Roman would be out of the picture until the witch was long gone, and problem solved. Greta, however, may not have gotten that memo, and goes ahead with the deal to awaken Roman. This, to Remus, is where the prank evolves into a game.

We pick up a century-or-so later to meet Patton and his “twin,” Thomas (I’m just switching around the six sides, and leaving everyone else where they were, for the most part). Pat is just the sweetest soul ever, but most are too leery to come anywhere near him.

Exception number one is Virgil, the boy who was blessed by a fairy to have a charming voice. However, something happened (insert angst), and poor V accidentally weaponized his gift (see: tempest tongue), resulting in lots of anxiety and being generally quiet out of fear of hurting someone (instead of using qualifiers to avoid telling people to do things, like LAOFT Pat does, Virgil just doesn’t really say anything at all). Upon learning that Patton is immune to his curse, the two became inseparable.

Exception number two is (one of my favorite concepts in Sanders Sides fics ever: Feral Logan) Logan, the witch’s great-great grandson, who lives with his grandmother and probably already knows all about witchery and will not hesitate to hex someone who acts rudely to his two best friends seven ways from Sunday. Logan stumbled upon Roman when he was younger and decided that awakening the sleeping prince would be a perfect test of his magic. Logan views magic as another type of science, and loves to test all sorts of hypotheses, which is… stressful for any and all other parties involved.

Remus, meanwhile, is doing a wonderful dance of denial. Does his miss his brother? Pshhh, absolutely not! That’s crazy! He’s having a grand old time ruling the first by himself, if you can call what he’s doing “ruling.” Remus doesn’t really put much effort into controlling the fair folk, so they do steal the occasional human from the woods, but he doesn’t actively encourage messing with the humans. (We still have the same dragon-witch-monster-ghost, who is desperately looking for Roman.) Remus might even be a little afraid of the mortals, though he’d never admit it. This may be one of the reasons whatever faerie who gave Virgil his gift wouldn’t be allowed to see him— why give the humans more power then they already have?

Janus I’m not really sure about, but I am gonna pretty much ignore LAOFT’s Dee because I want sympathetic!Janus (that reads kinda rudely, sorry, I do really love how you wrote him, but I’m in a sympathetic!Janus sort of mood)— maybe he’s one of Remus’s knights. Maybe he’s Virgil’s fairy godfather. Who knows? He’s Janus, he can do what he wants.

Plot wise, I’m not sure how much would change. I don’t think Logan would make a deal resulting in the Day/Night split— maybe Virgil would? If we go with that, we’ve got V running about with the faeries at night (that explains the eyeshadow, haha)(though that would open up some questions and plot holes about his gift/curse/blessing/whatever), and him letting Roman out (maybe this follows the magic sword thing from The Darkest Part of the Forest as opposed to your spider-shawl)(which, personally, I think is so much cooler). Roman then goes to Logan, and the two of them collect Patton and Virgil, who’d just come back from the revel? I’m not sure how it’d end, but probably with Roman and Remus getting along, Greta going to rest, true love saves the day, etc. etc.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading my mess of a “What if.” I really, thoroughly, truly loved reading LOAFT, and I get excited every time I get an email to tell me there’s been an update. Thanks for making such a cool series!

(Also, it’s worth mentioning that I’d never heard of The Darkest Part of the Forest before reading LAOFT. I borrowed it from my local library to read, and I don’t think you’ll ever understand how disappointed I was when there were not any witches, haha.)

---

V: this is so interesting, i love it sm!!!!!

#submission #submitted by @wisecolorthing #laoft fic #not mine #laoft remus #laoft roman #laoft patton #laoft virgil #laoft logan #laoft greta #eeeeeh im not gonna tag durant #ts janus

83 notes · View notes

karimac · 3 years

Text

…in the details, Part 3

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

Part 2

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 3,556

Well, that was not exactly the best idea, was it?

Dr. Darcy Lewis, unlike her colleague, Dr. Erik Selvig, was not a big fan nor an authority on any form of mythology. And the Irish history ask was a longshot at best.

So, here you were, in the coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Westview, talking to Dr. Lewis and getting nowhere fast.

“And, that’s not happening,” the astrophysicist grumbled as she set down her phone and took another sip of her beverage. It was some weirdly sweet concoction that looked like what humans thought rainbow-colored unicorn poop looked like. This world was not ready for what real magical beasts looked like. Most authors had not gotten all of that right in their books. No surprise there. No human really needed to see such things on a daily basis, and whoever had been the muses for those authors had covered up a lot.

“I take it Dr. Selvig has no clue on the Celtic Pantheon?” you asked as you sipped your very boring, light, non-sweet hot coffee. The barista probably wanted to laugh when you ordered it, but he did his best to stifle his snicker. “It was a very long reach on my part, Dr. Lewis. I’m sorry I roped you into this.”

“You can call me Darcy because you actually acknowledge my academic status,” the brunette said as she flipped her phone over again. “So, Thor is off in space. You don’t want me calling Falcon or his pal with the metal arm. Captain Marvel isn’t on your contact list. Ant Man and The Wasp? They can be sort of science geeks, right? Wait. Banner? Is he OK to call?”

Before you could open your mouth, Darcy was texting Banner off her own phone. “You know Bruce?”

“I met him at some meet and greet at MIT before the world went poof,” Darcy replied as she set her phone back down and seemed to be praying Banner would actually return her text. “Stark was there, too, but Banner was the one I got coffee with. Sweet guy, you know, even if he gets all green sometimes.”

As you sipped your coffee, you noticed a few people giving you odd looks. It made you very nervous. “Maybe we should finish up and get back on the road?” you asked Darcy as you quietly motioned toward the other patrons getting their daily fix of caffeine.

“Yeah, bubbe isn’t answering me anyway,” Darcy said as she picked up her phone and got up from her chair. By now there were several residents blocking the exit. “What is your problem? We paid. We’re busing our table. Then we’re leaving.”

“Are The Avengers going to hunt her down?” one woman in the back of the group asked as Darcy looked back toward you and mouthed the word “Help” before turning back to the crowd. The questioner was loud, but you couldn’t see her because of the big delivery man standing in front of her with a huge pile of Amazon packages. “Why did you come back?”

It was time to vamp. With an apparently faulty memory, this was going to be interesting.

“Before you all ask about what is going to happen regarding Wanda Maximoff, I want you all to know I have no authority to speak for The Avengers. I have never been a true member of the team. I helped them at a time when things were beyond bleak for this world. It was an honor and a privilege. But I am not a spokesperson. I am not a team leader.”

“Then why did you come here?” a man with glasses, holding a briefcase, asked from the line where he was waiting for his order. “Then and now?”

“I came the first time because I was looking for my friend. I was pulled into that nightmare just like you were. I wish I had been able to help her before any of this happened.”

“But you have powers, right? Couldn’t you have shut her down, hot stuff?” the first woman added as she moved to the front. Then you recognized her. Agatha Harkness. If Wanda kept her alive, there was a reason for it, and all the pain you had rising in your core had to be tamped down fast. Harkness had hurt Wanda, and that would have to be addressed one day. You were good at playing the long game.

“Taking her out in any sort of power stunt could have jeopardized your lives. I was not sure what she did to make it all happen, and I was not going to risk your lives. I’m sorry it wasn’t put to an end sooner. Now, if you will excuse us, we need to get to a meeting regarding the incident here,” you said as you and Darcy pushed through the crowd and back out to the street.

“OK, what was all that? Spin? Or are you remembering something?” Darcy asked as you got back into her car. You had left your rental on the outskirts of town. Better to travel as a unit until your business here was concluded.

“I remember a couple of things from that mess,” you said as you tried to keep your hands from shaking. “I remember Wanda and Vision’s sons. Billy and Tommy. I remember the house where I lived. Can we drive out to where Wanda had her house? Maybe that will help?”

Darcy pulled out of the parking space and made the lefts and rights to the lot where Wanda’s house had been. The one you were living in was in a lot right next to it. It was empty now, too, but you got out of the car anyway and stood in the center of the patch of dirt. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you tried to piece together what had happened. And then you started to cry as you fell to your knees.

“Whoa, slow down,” Darcy said as she ran and knelt beside you. “What did you see?”

“It’s weird. Wanda came over one day and more or less apologized to me because she couldn’t give me my real happy ending. I can show you, if you’ll let me…”

“Go into my mind?” Darcy protested before you could wave her off the idea. “No Vulcan mind melds for me today, thanks.”

“No, I carry this mirror, and you can see memories in it. Trust me, I do not use telepathy as a first line of anything. I tried it once, to help a friend, but it just caused more problems,” you groaned as you pulled the mirror out of your backpack. You waved your hand over it, and Darcy could now see what had happened with Wanda.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find them and bring them here,” the Sokovian said quietly as she walked around the 1980s version of what was your living room. It was way too pastel for your liking, but the hints of fuchsia, orchid and teal in the overall cream and light gray design weren’t so bad. You had a couple of cats there with you. One was an orange tabby with a penchant for eating tuna at any given moment. He was warm and affectionate and just a ray of sunshine dressed in fur. The other was as white as the driven snow, but his own cuddly disposition came through. He was the one who would leave you weird gifts every morning. Rocks, feathers, and yes, the occasional dead mouse would be at the foot of your bed each sunrise. You’d find out at the end of that nightmare that the cats were only constructs of Wanda’s chaos magic.

“I know you miss the three of them,” she continued as she pointed to a framed picture of Steve, Bucky and Sam, all decked out in appropriate 1980s clothes that made them look like they ran away from some cop drama. “It’s probably better that there aren’t too many Avengers here anyway. Vis is getting concerned. And this way, well, no one needs to know which one you would have chosen. I know. You know. So you can always talk to me. Like we did before. But I gave you the wedding ring to make sure no one came on to you. Just in case I can get him here soon.”

As you showed Darcy the memory, a tiny part of you was screaming that this whole scenario seemed wrong. You watched Wanda’s crimson glow float around you as she spoke. You vaguely remembered The Morrigan trying to kick some sense back into your addled brain, but Wanda’s world was much too enticing to let your other self come to the fore. You wanted the damned happily ever after with the husband and the house and everything that meant in the modern American ethos. You had rationalized things for years in such a way that you’d never let yourself get it. That was why no one was here to hug you at night like Wanda had Vision. Maybe that fact alone was enough to crack Wanda’s hold on you a bit more than she realized?

But you also had to admit that you wanted to be there for Wanda in case things went south. That much was clear from the moment you showed up in Westview the first time.

“How come you didn’t just zap her? Fight back?” Darcy asked as you fully shifted to the present day and paused the memory.

“Because she wasn’t wrong. I did miss Bucky, Steve and Sam. I missed Banner, too, because they were, in the end, the ones still here that cared if I lived or died. And Spider-Man. Which is random and weird, but he did. And frankly, what I said in the coffee shop was true. I had no idea what my powers would do to her spell. I could have leveled the town. That was not an option.”

“So, that Agatha woman…” Darcy started to say and then stopped. “Wait. That was her? In the coffee shop? That was why you were acting so weird?”

“Yeah. Wanda could have killed her or taken Agatha away with her to imprison her. She didn’t. After what Agatha tried to do to Wanda, to try and take her powers, Wanda had every right to finish her off. But Wanda doesn’t likely know all that yet. There are rules set up from ages ago. Things witches can and can’t do to each other under specific circumstances. So Wanda left her trapped here—for now anyway. But, whatever happened with them, it affected me, too. I got hit with stray magic blasts. I’m betting it messed up my powers in ways I didn’t realize. And maybe my memories as well.”

As Darcy knelt there, her phone finally chimed. It was some weird little R2-D2 chirpy beep, and she looked elated as she showed you the message. “Seems Bruce still cares if you are OK or not. I don’t think bringing him here is such a great idea…”

“Did anyone send him data about what happened here?” you asked as you got to your feet, pocketing some of the dirt from the lot before you stood up. “Air and soil samples? Readings from the residents?”

“I can get them for him. Trust me, Jimmy Woo and Monica Rambeau would be more than happy to help. I’m glad that loon Hayward seems to have gone into hiding or was hauled away to The Raft,” Darcy noted as she checked her phone again. “Seems the doc is working out of a Stark lab here in Jersey. Road trip?”

You really didn’t want to go see Bruce. You had no idea how you’d explain any of what you did to him.

++++++++++

You rehearsed what you planned to tell Bruce a million times in your mind as Darcy drove along the Garden State Parkway to a place called Woodcliff Lake. Stark Industries did indeed have a lab there, and it made you want to scream as you walked into the facility. You did not need yet another reminder that you could not save Tony Stark’s life at the end of that final battle with Thanos. That was part of why you were in this mess in the first place. It was also why you had a screaming fight with Stephen Strange, but no one else knew about that yet.

“Dr. Banner? We’re here!” Darcy yelled as you walked toward what had to be the research wing. The lack of security in the place was a bit disturbing, but then again, there were probably booby traps built into every square inch of the place. You could just hear Tony now as you got closer to the lab area. It would likely have been close to the speech you got the first time he talked to you at the compound.

“Hey! Lucky Charms! Don’t touch any of the expensive stuff. I guess that means don’t touch anything. I still have no idea why you are hanging around the team except that Steve wants you here for some reason. Maybe you’re tied to…his friend…and I just don’t want to face that? Still have issues with all of that, even if the man is dead. Pepper and Morgan said I should be nice to you, but I’m not quite there yet after what happened in Berlin. They are better people than I’ll ever be.”

“Earth to Kari?” you finally heard Bruce say as he waved his massive green hand in front of your face. Then he realized why you were likely spacing out. "Dr. Lewis, can we have a minute?”

“You can call me Darcy, if I can call you Bruce?” Lewis said as Banner nodded to her. “Cool. I’ll go find the little scientist’s room and be right back,” she added as she left the lab.

“So,” Bruce started as he pointed you toward a set of chairs at one side of the lab, “Darcy filled me in via text. I have no idea what happened with Wanda, and I know none of us know where she is. I did call a friend who wants to help,” he noted as a swirling circle of yellow light formed near the window that looked out over the parking lot. “I figured you’d listen to him, and he knows more about this stuff than I do.”

“What did you do?” Wong shouted as he exited the portal. “You usually listen to reason. Why did you go after Wanda all alone?”

“I went to help Wanda. She was hurting. She watched Vision die twice. She lost Pietro. I can relate to all that very, very well. My twin Branan died in front of my eyes, too, and I’ve buried two husbands. Both died in battle. I just wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. But she…she hit all my vulnerable points. And she was under attack at the same time. From a woman named Agatha Harkness and from the director of SWORD. Some martinet named Hayward. He built another Vision. I think Hayward was using Wanda’s powers to bring him to life. Darcy is going to check in with some of the people who worked with her to get you more intel, Bruce.”

“Another version of Vision? Great,” Bruce muttered as he looked over at Wong. “As for this Harkness person…”

“The name rings very small bells, so I’ll need to do some research,” Wong noted as you bumped your left fist against your forehead. “What?”

“Harkness is a succubus. And she is old. Not as old as I am, but she is still a good 400 years old, give or take a day. She apparently survived the Salem Witch Trials. Wanda spelled her and left her in Westview. I think she is, at least in small ways, aware that her world is all wrong. I didn’t want to press it when I saw her in that coffee shop. We do not need an angry succubus flying around. Wong, they got into an aerial battle, and Wanda was using sigils, runes, whatever you want to call them, to focus her power. I think she picked that up from good old Aggie. I never showed her anything like that on purpose. I always suspected she had magic in her bones, but it wasn’t my place to start that fire. The bigger issue is that Wanda conjured up two children while she was there. She created cats for me, so anything is possible. I got knocked out by the end of the fight, so I have no idea what exactly happened in the end other than Wanda running off and Agatha being left behind for some reason.”

“And?” Wong asked as he started to look you up and down. “You did a spell? And it went bad? Your aura is all messed up.”

“I…I tried to do a spell so The Avengers would think of me less and less, and then eventually I’d just be a fleeting memory. I felt walking away in the dead of night, the thing I usually do when I am leaving town, would not be good enough. The spell got botched, and now I’m connected in some fashion to Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Looking back at it, I spent more time with them in the days leading up to my departure. Steve and Bruce were there the day I left, and so were Sam and Bucky. And…I’m carrying a lot of guilt about Bucky after his accident in 1943.”

“All this on top of the magical circus Wanda made? Are you insane?” Wong yelled as he started to pace.

“And the fight I had with Stephen on the day of the battle. Yeah, I guess I am insane,” you replied as Wong threw up his hands. Bruce had gotten extremely quiet, and that was not a good thing.

“Before we get to dissecting your spell, Kari, was this because of what Tony said? About you not being an Avenger because you were…?”

“Unstable? Yes. And the fact I could not bring anyone back from the grave, especially during that last battle. And the fact about who killed his parents. Buck did while under Hydra control. Steve found out and never told Tony. I ran into The Winter Soldier a few times over the decades, so there was the chance I could have prevented their deaths, too. Tony really had no reason to ask me to join the band.”

“Once we get your spell problem sorted, then we will address this, too,” Bruce said as he looked toward Wong and shook his head. “I loved Tony like a brother, but he was wrong…”

You winced a few times as you tried to listen to Bruce and Wong, now joined once again by Darcy, as they tried to figure out how to fix or reverse that spell, and they hashed out what might have happened to you during that first trip to Westview. You were really trying to focus on their questions, but you felt a tug that no one else could ever have possibly felt.

“Baltimore,” you mumbled as you pulled out your cellphone and debated texting the person you felt tugging at that damned invisible string. No. That would have ended badly, especially since your original spell had gone haywire.

“Bucky Barnes was arrested?” Darcy asked as she showed you her phone alert. “I bet he punched that new fake Cap in the nose. Sorry, but that guy looks like he has no clue. I saw him on Good Morning America. Total cheese fest.”

“Wait. What?” you asked as you took her phone. “Sam didn’t keep the shield? I just hope Bucky didn’t punch Sam and wind up in jail for that!” You gave Darcy back her phone and looked at yours again. It was buzzing. “Anyone here know who the hell is Christina Raynor?” you asked the trio in front of you. No one had any clue about that. You hit the speaker button as you answered the call.

“Hello? Ms. MacOrish. I’m James Barnes’ therapist, Christina Raynor. Sam Wilson said I should give you a call and ask you to join us in Baltimore. As quickly as possible, if you can. I don’t think Mr. Barnes wants to spend the night in a holding cell.”

“Oh no, you are not going to Baltimore,” Wong said as he crossed his arms and got a stern look on his face. “Not while your head is all over the place. You could portal to Baltimore in the 1800s for all you know. You could end up eating lunch with Lord Baltimore in the 1700s. You really shouldn’t do this.”

“Wong, what better place for me to go than to see a therapist?” you said with a smirk as you opened your own portal, this one a lovely shade of emerald green, that went to where Raynor was waiting for you—outside an interrogation room at the city jail.

“Mr. Wilson said you’d be fast. He did not tell me you were one of the powered class,” Raynor said as you went through the portal, looking back to wave briefly as you heard Darcy’s last comment.

“What about your rental car?”

#avengers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #sam wilson x oc #bruce banner x oc #wong x oc #darcy lewis x oc #avengers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bruce banner #wong mcu #darcy lewis #my mcu oc #my ocs are my babies #my oc writing

17 notes · View notes

parkersbliss · 4 years

Text

Honey Eyes | T. Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland X Female Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: amnesia? brief mention of a car accident. angsty, but ends with fluff

Summary: Tom keeps trying to get you to remember him, but he is slowly losing hope.

Request: Hello! May I please request something angsty where the reader and Tom are in a car accident and she doesn’t remember him. The media and fans are worried about Tom when he’s only worried about her. And then one day something brings back all the memories! I also like to suffer hahaha

playlist/song inspiration: Right Now by 1D, Falling by Harry Styles, Fireproof by 1D

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

It all happened so fast. One minute the car was driving smoothly on the road and the next there was a crash and Tom was thrown forward into the seat in front of him. Of course, he didn't care he immediately went to check on you. At least he thought he did, in his dazed reality, Tom was just blubbering nonsense to the seat in front of him before he passed out.

...

The room was a blinding white. Tom stretched, bones cracking as there was a loud commotion coming from beside him.

"Oh thank god!" Harry said, standing next to his eldest brother. "you're not dead!"

Tom gives him a quizzical look, "Yeah, no shit."

"I see a near-death experience still hasn't changed your attitude."

Harry crosses his arms as Tom rolls his eyes, "whatever, I'm fine. You would think if I died Harrison would be here."

Harry goes pale at the mention of Harrison and Tom quirks an eyebrow at him, "what?"

"He's with (Y/N), we take turns watching you guys."

Tom tries to climb out of bed, "I need to go see her, where is she?"

"Tom, no, I don't think that's a good idea just yet. You just woke up."

Harry tries pushing him back down on the bed, Tom complying because he doesn't have any strength to actually resit him.

"Is she awake? Can she come here?"

Harry considers it, "I'll go ask Haz. If she can I'll bring her to you."

Tom nods, fiddling with his fingers. Were you okay? He didn't remember much about the accident, not that he wanted too. He watches as Harry disappears from the hospital room, he notes the grim look on his face.

You weren't far from Tom's room, just three doors down. Harry knocks on the door softly to let you know of his arrival. He silently closes it behind him.

"Tom just woke up," He said to no one imparticular. You were sat on the bed, the same blank expression on your face.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Harry smiled, hoping to coax some type of recognition from you. Instead, he gets the usual forced smile and small "hi Harry."

You had woken up a few days before Tom, but unlike him, you had no collection of any of the events that had occurred in the past year. The boys were devastated when they found out. Harrison had been in your room when you had awoken and he didn't hesitate to hug you, only to find you not returning the action. He stepped back and saw the confusion on your face, following that he called a nurse who ran a few tests, concluding that you were suffering from amnesia.

"Would you like to see Tom?" Harry asked gently.

"Is he the one you guys keep talking about? The one I was dating?"

They both nod, Harrison, pulling up a picture of the two of you in Bali. A quiet 'oh' leaves your lips.

"Are you sure he wants to see me? I don't want to crush his heart."

"Sweetheart," Harrison started. "Tom loves you and I know you don't remember, but believe me, he wants to see you even if you don't know him. His whole life revolves around you being happy. He always puts you first."

You nod, "Okay."

The two boys lead you to his room, Harry staying with you outside so that Harrison can explain the situation to Tom.

"Hey," Harrison greets, hugging his best friend.

"Hey," Tom replies. "Is she here?"

"Tom, I- there's no easy way to say this."

Tom interrupts him, "She's not dead, is she?"

"Oh my god, No! She has amnesia."

Tom felt his heart drop, "she doesn't...?" he asked, hoping Harrison would say something else and wash away this nightmare. It was like being in the sun at the beach, the water lapping around your waist, and out of nowhere a giant wave crashes over you. Tom couldn't think clearly, it was like he was drowning and he hadn't even seen you.

"I'm sorry, Tom, but the doctors say you might be able to trigger something. It's unknown."

"Can I," He gulps, bracing himself. "Can I see her?" It was hard for him. Tom wanted to see you again, your beautiful face and the gleaming smile, even if it wasn't for him. Harrison nods, opening the door as you slowly step inside, Harry behind you.

"Love, hey," Tom catches himself, watching as you flinch at the use of the name, whereas normally you would blush. "I'm sorry," He said. "(Y/N)."

"Hi Tom," You greet. There was a smile on your face, but Tom could see right through you. Your eyes had lost the spark of excitement they always held, there was a smile on your face, but it didn't burn as bright as it uses too. Your body was folding in on itself, trying to hide from him and it crushed Tom.

"Do you remember anything?" He asks.

You shake your head no, avoiding his gaze and letting one of the other two boys in the room speak for you.

"Nothing from the past year," Harrison said, picking up on your avoidance of the topic.

"Oh," Tom said sadly.

"I should go," You whisper. Tom wants to tell you to stay, but he knows he has no right too anymore. So instead, he watches you walk out of the room with his brother. When the door closes he lets the sob leave his lips. Harrison stands up and races to his side, but Tom chokes out a "please, I just need to be alone right now."

Harrison signs, making his way toward the door, "Tom, just know, you're not in this alone. We're here for you, don't forget that. She's going to get better."

Tom doesn't say anything, he just waits for the door to close so he can cry a little bit harder.

...

The days went by and Tom got better, but you showed no signs of recognition. It was killing him on the inside, but he barely had time to himself. Your faces were plastered over every magazine, the news getting out to the whole world only a few days after it happened. His publicist was always with him as they tried to work out the details.

The world already knew everything, it was just a matter of a statement coming from Tom to ensure everything was alright, but the thing was it wasn't alright. Nothing about this was 'alright.' Tom felt like he had woken up to a worse reality than the one inside his dreamless sleep. He watched the publicist mouth speak but did not register the words coming out. He only nodded throwing in the occasional "uh-huh" into the mix.

His mind was always elsewhere these days. Tom would be released from the hospital soon and he wasn't sure if you were coming home with him. He wanted you too, hoping maybe the place would trigger some sort of memory, but he understood that you didn't know him. To you, Tom was just another face. He felt helpless and the truth was, he was. There was no telling if you would get your memory back or even the slightest guarantee.

They were all relying on a small bud of hope. The situation was so far out of their control all they could do was hope and pray. But like anything else, sometimes, you just can't. Miracles were hard to come by, but here, Tom was praying for one.

...

Tom stepped out into the bright sun, shielding his face as the flashing cameras went off. You were following close behind, the boys all shielding you from the paparazzi. There was ecstatic yelling, microphones being shoved around. Tom smiles politely, pushing past them to get to the car. Not bothering to answer any questions. Once you're seating comfortably in the car, you let out a small cough. Tom turns to look at you, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine, but what was that?"

Tom turns toward Harry, "So no one bothered to tell (Y/N)?"

Harrison scratches the back of his neck, avoiding Tom's gaze. Tom rolls his eyes, "I thought these two might've told you or maybe you remembered that part, guess not. I'm an actor."

"Oh, you seem really famous. What for?"

"I play Spider-Man," He shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Wait, really? I dated Spider-Man?"

Tom flinches at the use of the term dated, he was still dating you. In his mind, he was. There was no official breakup, but he should probably assume that you guys were on 'break.'

"Yeah," He replies, looking out the window. You frown at his change of mood, but respectfully don't pry into it. Instead, you sigh and turn to look out the other window.

...

When Tom got home with you, it didn't feel like home. You were with him, but you weren't really with him. He could feel it. Late nights surrounding by friends and family, just like how it used to be, except he could see you trying desperately to rearrange the faces in your mind. Tom wanted you here with him again.

You were so distant, a sad expression on your face each time you had some time to yourself. You hoped he didn't notice, but he did. Tom could read you so well and he could tell that each time he left the room, you let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn't that Tom's presence scared you, it was how hurt he looked sometimes. You understood how sad he must be and you didn't blame him, but you just felt so guilty when he tried something new and his face would light up asking if you remembered anything, but you didn't. It hurt more when he didn't try as much.

It was late at night when Tom laid in bed wishing you were next to him. Not down the hallway in the guest room. It was the same thought every night, wishing you were with him. Everything was new to him, his entire life had been flipped. He turned down roles to be home with you and he never left.

Normally he would've been grateful for some time off, he loved spending time with you, but it hurt each time when your face didn't light up the same way it use to when he came around. That's not to say you weren't yourself, you were. It was only the people you forgot, which Tom was grateful for somehow. He felt better knowing that at least you knew yourself.

"Hey," He said softly, taking the seat next to you.

You smiled sincerely at him, trying your best to lighten up his day, "Hi, Tom!"

He gives you a quizzical look, "What's got you so happy today?"

You shrug, "Dunno, thought maybe if I was happy you might be too."

The thought was so innocent that Tom couldn't help but smile too. It was something you had done often before the accident. You were a beacon of light always shining in the dark in hopes of lighting someone else up too.

"I am happy," Tom said.

"Right," You nodded, agreeing with him. A small trace of sarcasm in your voice.

Tom clears his throat, not wanting to address his obvious mood changes. "If you're up for it, I want to take you somewhere."

Tom rarely took you out because of the media. The first time he had tried it, there were cameras anywhere. He had sensed your discomfort and offered to just go home. You agreed, still not to use to the feeling of prying eyes.

"I'd love too," You said honestly.

A real smile breaks across Tom's face, "great! Just let me know when you're ready."

You nod and exit the kitchen to get ready.

...

The coffee shop was small but cozy. It had a rustic feeling to it with a menu attached to a brick wall, strung with small lanterns. There are small plants everywhere adding a small splash of green to the rustic cafe.

"This place is cute," You told Tom. You were both careful to wear sunglasses and baseball caps to conceal your faces from prying eyes. His hand rests on your lower back as a means of keeping you close to him. You learned early on that Tom likes to touch you, it's comforting to him and you didn't mind.

"It was our favorite," He replies, gauging your reaction.

"I can see why." You grin up at him, there's a bit of familiarity to the place.

Tom orders and pays as the two of you sit at a booth by the window. When you're sure no one's looking, you both remove your hats and glasses. You study the busy streets of London, people rushing up and down them to get to work. Some are making phone calls, other eating, and some just running.

As you watch the outsiders, Tom's focus is on you as you bask in the golden light of day. The rays of light stream through the window and illuminate your skin, showering it in golden shine. It's breathtaking to him, plus the relaxed look on your face. He never really got to see you so peaceful.

"You look beautiful," He blurts out.

A blush creeps up your neck and you bend your head down, a curtain of hair covering your pink cheeks.

"Thank you."

"Can I take a picture? For Instagram, the fans are worried sick about you."

"Oh." You hadn't even bothered to look at your social media. Figuring it was full of notifications from people you didn't know. "yeah, let's do it."

The waitress sets your drinks down on the table and you flash her a small smile. Tom suggests you return to your normal position, taking a sip of your drink as you looked out to the busy streets of London. You do so as he snaps a few pictures.

"Wow, yes queen!" He jokes, adding a funny accent. "Work it, my god!"

You laugh at this, Tom snapping the perfect picture of you, face scrunched up in laughter, eyes closed as you clutch your drink in your hands. He hands you your phone and you admire the pictures.

"These are really good, Tom!" You gape at the photos.

He grins, scratching the back of his neck, "You were a really good model."

"Tommmm," You whine, "shut up!"

"it's true!" he defends, sipping at his coffee. "Just because I'm not your boyfriend anymore doesn't mean I can't admire your beauty."

"Always this charming, huh?" You tease, leaning forward slightly.

"You fell in love with it," Tom smirks, leaning back in your seat as your jaw falls open. You lick your lips, shaking your head as you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest.

"That's what you say, am I suppose to believe that?"

Tom gasps, laying a hand over his heart. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Are you suggesting that I should?"

"wouldn't you like to know, love."

The name rolls off his tongue easily and you find yourself flushing at the use of it. You don't bother correcting him, but instead, bite your lip and roll your eyes. Tom is aware you don't correct him and he can feel his heart thump in his chest. If you didn't remember him, he could always get you to fall back in love with him, right?

There's a moment of silence as you both try to calm your pounding hearts. You sip carefully at your drink, pretending it's much more exciting than the man in front of you. You take long sips, keeping your eyes downward, not wanting to look at Tom's flushed face. You weren't lying if you said you were attracted to him, but you could sense Tom clinging on to his last bit of hope.

"Tom," You drawl, still not looking up. Sensing his eyes on your figure, you ponder if you should be asking this type of question, but it was bugging you.

"What happens if I don't get my memories back?"

Time seems to slow as the outside world gets quieter so you can hear Tom's sharp intake of breath. He turns his attention to the window, biting his lips nervously as he considers the possibility.

Of course, he had considered it before, but he didn't want too. He never dwelled on the thought too long, because frankly, he didn't know what he would do. Could he get you to fall back in love with him? Even if he did, there was still a whole year of your relationship that was missing.

An entire year's worth of memories and fun. You'd have to rebuild the entire base of your relationship with not only Tom but his family and friends. You would have to readjust to the fame, which was hard for you the first time.

"I don't know," He whispers. "Maybe... maybe you'll leave me."

It's a thought that hadn't crossed either of your minds. Yes, Tom was growing on you, but what if he'd stop and you'd left? You didn't think about it because all you'd known since you'd woken up was Tom.

Being with Tom made you feel like there was still a piece of you there and that you didn't miss a whole year of your life. You didn't want to leave him, but maybe being with you hurt Tom more then you understood.

"Maybe," You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tom just nods, sipping at his coffee, the small cafe starting to bustle with life again.

"I'm sorry," You spoke up after the long silence.

Tom looks at you, brown eyes full of confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for not being able to remember. I'm sorry I'm not the person you fell in love with." You swipe at the few tears that slipped down your cheeks.

"No, hey, don't cry," Tom said softly, prying your hands from your face. "Don't be sorry, none of this is your fault, love. Don't ever apologize. I don't know why you would ever think that. (Y/N) you will always be the only woman I love. Just because you don't remember how we met doesn't mean I'll stop loving you. Maybe you don't remember loving me back, but I don't care. You are the person I love and don't ever doubt that."

More tears slip down your cheeks at Tom's confession. There's a pounding in your heart and fluttering feeling in your stomach as you look into his eyes. His honey eyes full of warmth and love as he stares into yours, squeezing your hands. You take the moment to admire his face.

His brown curls pushed back on his forehead, a few falling out and framing his face. The sharp lines of his cheekbones, dotted with sun-kissed freckles. You can't recognize his face, but you know those eyes. The same honey eyes that sparkled under the streetlights as you danced in the cool London night, dripping wet from the rain.

But that didn't matter when you were with Tom. The same eyes that crinkled with laughter each time you cracked one of your stupid jokes, that according to everyone else, weren't funny, but to Tom, it was the best joke he'd heard. His eyes held a million memories in them, like the time you first kissed. Although the room had been dark, you could clearly see his eyes tracing your lips and you didn't hesitate to lean forward and press your own to his.

As you stare into Tom's eyes, he can see the recognition slowly crawl back onto your face. He waits patiently, squeezing your hands a little tighter to remind that he's right here.

"Tom?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

"(Y/N)?"

"Kiss me."

Tom captures your lips with him, leaning across the table just the slightest to brush against your lips, making sure this was okay. You only nod, bringing one of your hands to the back of his neck to pull his face the final inch closer. You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his soft lips on yours. He pulls back tentatively, not wanting the intimate moment to end. Tom presses his forehead to yours, his face bursting with a grin.

"I won't ever forget you, Tom," You said, watching as his eyes fill with a few tears. You move your hands to gently cup his cheeks, wiping at his tears with the pad of your thumb. He kisses your hands, eyes soft as he takes you in.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," He repeats like a mantra. You give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"I love you too. So, should we tall the media or do you think they've figured it out by now?" You quirk a thumb at the paparazzi outside the window.

Tom laughs, "Mmm, not my priority right now, love."

He watches as you flush at the use of the name and he feels like the world is right again. Tom's eyes sparkle with a life that you hadn't seen for weeks.

Damn, those eyes, you think as he winks at you. "You're blushing sweet cheeks."

"Can't help it golden eyes."

It's Tom's turn to blush as he scrunches up his nose at the new name, "well, darling, I think there are a few people that would love to see you. I know Harry has been dying without you around."

You laugh, taking Tom's outstretched hand, "Lead the way, pretty boy."

"God, I've missed you."

"I know," You smirk, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. "But I'm not leaving anytime soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

—

🏷 Taglist: @cams-lynn @runway-to-my-aid @peterspideyy @yoinkyourheart @honeybittersweet @keenmarvellover

strike through- tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

666 notes · View notes

clowniconography · 3 years

Text

A couple weeks ago when it was still snowy I went for a walk in the cemetery and then preceded to start writing this short bit of prose about it. Now there’s no snow left on the ground and I’m already starting to miss it a little, but I finished the story. how about you come and take a little wintery walk with me?

When I entered the cemetery, I knew for a fact that I was the only human visitor it had seen in days.

Among the many uses for snow, two of the most notable are “security system” and “clock”. No matter how much you disguise yourself, when there’s snow on the ground there’s no way of stopping your boots marking your every move, short of learning to fly.

Weeks upon weeks of intermittent snow mean that on that particular day, everything that didn’t have a heartbeat wore its history like a neon sign. I could tell when every car had last been cleaned, when every sidewalk had last been shovelled, and when every unpaved path had last been tread. Every winter, I see the snow as a delightful opportunity to know things about my environment that would never be clear to me otherwise.

In that most prodigious of winters I had come to memorize my own boot tread pretty well, as generic as it was. I was able to competently distinguish my men’s size 9 ½ from every other men’s size 9 ½, although I have no obvious use for such knowledge.

On my way onto the cemetery grounds, the signs of human intrusion were apparent in places, but what individual footprints I could make out had been rendered toothless and near invisible by a good three or four inches of snow. No, I was sure that I was the only one there, and the first in days at that.

And before you ask; no, I’ve never been afraid of cemeteries. At a young age I experienced a series of funerals in quick succession, each for a different distant elderly relative who I barely knew. For me, these experiences turned cemeteries into normal businesses you run errands to like any supermarket, graves into simple rocks as mundane as address plaques, and corpses into inanimate objects.

I had taken a particular interest in a cemetery near to where I live. I’m not native to the area and no one I know is buried there, but that didn’t matter. I considered the cemetery simply a quaint and charming few acres of trees and pretty rocks amongst miles of suburban houses. It was a pretty place where solitude was easy to find, and as a bonus I felt a good samaritan when visiting and cleaning some of the older, more derelict graves.

I hadn’t visited the cemetery since the winter had started and the snow had begun to make itself a constant presence. Just as spring and fall had done in the past, winter put its own stylistic spin on the backdrop of graves. Great untouched white plains dotted with solitary black stones stretched out before me. It was a sunny afternoon, and whenever the sun peaked its head out of the measly clouds the landscape would transform into one giant dazzlingly reflective surface. Despite the frigid air there were a few varieties of bird that could still be heard chirping in the black and white striped treetops above.

I took a rambling route through those of the cemetery’s paths that were still passable. A good few feet of snow stood between me and my favorite viewpoint in the place, but the view from the regular trail suit me fine.

Over the course of the winter I had also learned how to distinguish the prints of a few of the cemetery’s nonhuman inhabitants. On the ground I would occasionally see the sticklike protrusions of the sparrows I could hear conversing above me. Long spidering trails criss-crossed the ground where squirrels dashed from tree to tree. Every once in a while I would even delight in finding a cluster of coffee-bean-shaped deer tracks.

I meandered along the trail, taking in my usual sights, eventually passing by the small cobblestone building at the center of the property. I had always assumed it to be a storage space for maintenance equipment and such, but its appearance was so utterly commonplace and fitting that I usually took no notice of it.

However, as I approached the building, I did become aware of something quite strange: a set of footprints leading inside.

I didn’t notice the prints at first glance because of just how similar they were to mine. I stamped a print of my own next to one of them to compare and was surprised at how alike they were, Same size, similar design, maybe even same brand, but still definitely different. Like I said before, they were leading into the shed, with no visible set of footprints leading out.

This wasn’t that strange. Of course it wasn’t. How self-important could I be, surprised to see that someone other than me had breached the fresh snow? The cemetery wasn’t fenced in, and someone could’ve easily entered from a different direction without me having seen them.

Pretending this was no detour from the original intended trajectory of my walk, I began to follow the footprints towards their origin. I retraced them away from the storage shed and along the path in the opposite direction. They followed this path deeper into the cemetery, and around a turn towards the trees on the edge of the property. The trees loomed like burnt skeletons, casting shadows over the otherwise blindingly bright snowpack.

As I neared this naturally-occurring boundary, the prints came to an abrupt stop. Or, more fittingly, they came to an abrupt start, since I had been following them backwards.

It was as simple as this: one moment the footprints weren’t there, the next they were, appearing clear as day on the pristine snowy ground. No other footprints save for my own invaded the spot for at least three yards in every direction.

I huffed audibly, annoyed that my search had brought up not just nothing, but less than nothing. I followed my own footprints back to the shed and was met with another shock: the door was open.

While it was getting more and more difficult to distinguish the footprints the more I tread the same ground repeatedly, I could tell that there was still no set of footprints leading out. Eager to get the explanation for the footprints that I was sure existed, I powered forward into the shed.

It was dark inside the shed, and it was just as cold as it had been outside but was tenfold more damp and uncomfortable. My initial assumption had been correct: the shed was full of maintenance equipment. Gardening shears, brooms, and hammers were among the objects I saw populating the walls. One thing that I was sure I didn’t see, was any people. I was alone.

I turned around a few times, inspecting the inside of the shed for any signs--signs of what? I felt incredibly stupid. I’m no detective, and spinning in circles inside a building I definitely wasn’t supposed to be in was getting me nowhere.

Suddenly, as I was facing the back wall of the shed, I heard a loud dusty THUD come from behind me. I whipped around and was horrified to find that the door to the shed had slammed shut with me still inside.

I rushed to the door and grasped the handle. It appeared locked, but there was nothing to indicate a lock on the inside of the door. The doorknob was smooth and featureless, an ancient and simple construction of brass. I pawed at it for a minute before coming to the conclusion that turning the knob was no use.

Fear and panic mounting, I began to slam my entire body into the frail door, which coughed up spouts of dust with every collision. I was beginning to worry I would have to call the authorities and ashamedly explain my predicament (I pushed aside any thought that suggested the shutting the door had been the machinations of anything more intelligent than a gust of wind).

I was absolutely frantic by the time the door gave way as easily as if it had been open the entire time.

Luckily, I prevented myself from falling directly into the snow. I stumbled clumsily out into the blinding white afternoon, cold winter air bracing my face. For the first time that day I was truly thankful that no one was around to witness me.

Determined not to let this experience shake me, I continued my twisting walk through the cemetery, making my best effort to let the cool air and soothing sounds of the forest soothe my nerves. What I didn’t do was turn back to look at the shed, to check if there really was a lock on the outside of the door.

After about twenty minutes of taking in the scenery, the snow blindness was beginning to get to me. More and more of my vision was filling with patches of white, and that which I could see appeared foggy and blue-tinted. I started back the way I came, and along the way I encountered my own footprints from earlier in the walk.

It was then I saw my last and final strange thing: another set of footprints, same as before. They were unmistakably the same prints as the once I had seen earlier, nearly identical to mine.

Just like before, these strange footprints started pure out of the blue, in the middle of the trail. Unlike before, though, they weren’t leading towards a specific destination.

Instead, they seemed to follow my own, two steps behind.

I stiffened my posture and quickened my walking pace slightly, not allowing this sight to get the best of me beyond that. I didn’t want to run, or yell, and by god was I not going to turn around.

I only made it a few steps before I felt a shock run through my body. I don’t know what it was; an evolutionary failsafe, a message from a higher power, or even the most imperceptible sound of a boot heel compressing the snow somewhere nearby.

Whatever it was, it caused me to immediately take off running towards the edge of the cemetery as a terrifyingly dark feeling began to overtake me. With every frantic footstep my boots sent snow flying, while themselves filling entirely with chunks of snow within seconds. My vision filled with more and more of that white static until I was barrelling forward entirely blind. I still feel thankful that I managed not to stumble or slip even once for the entire stretch, although what that thankfulness is for I still do not know.

When I crossed the border of the cemetery and emerged on the sidewalk, The oppressive feeling ceased at once and all was normal again. I came to an abrupt stop and turned around to see nothing but my own messy bootprints leading to the spot where I stood.

I immediately began to scold myself internally for how irrational I’d acted. Standing outside the cemetery, inhabiting the world of the real and the logical, my own behavior from just seconds before felt shameful and childish. Dejected, I walked myself and my now extremely wet boots all the way home.

I’m still not afraid of cemeteries. I’m not going to stop going to that same cemetery, either.

I just think I’m going to wait until after all the snow has melted.

#horror #horror writing #short story #horror short story #horror tw #unreality tw #scooter.txt #my writing #LET THE RECORD SHOW I DON'T LIKE HOW THIS TURNED OUT. BUT I AM POSTING IT NONETHELESS

27 notes · View notes