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kai-anderson-whore · 8 months

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From the moment I took you in the station (part 2 Colin zable x fem reader smut)

Summary: you and Colin go on a date after it you invite Colin for a few drinks 😏

Warnings: smut, mentions of parents separating, oral (reader receiving), alcohol

Word count:2,4k

Part 1

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Before you knew it Saturday rolled along, with that time you and Colin texted whenever you could knowing he was busy with work. At night you both would talk on the phone about anything and everything. You felt like a teenager again with the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach and the constant blushing.

Amy helped you pick the perfect outfit not even a day after Colin asked you on a date, a black dress that fell just above your knees, showing a little cleavage it was casual yet elegantly formal. It was perfect one of your favourites but you never got around to wearing it yet. You paired the dress with black heels and your favourite pieces of jewellery. Your makeup was simple 'the French girl look' your sister said it was.

You finally got a text from Colin saying he was outside in his car waiting on you. Your sister was already at her friends house so you locked the door and made your way to Colin's car. "Hi" you smiled you were nervous but excited it had been a good while since you were on a date it felt new again. "Wow you look beautiful" Colin said in awe admiring you beauty.

"I feel overdressed my sister insisted I wear it" you giggled nervously. Colin shook his head dismissively "no you look perfect" he smiled beginning to drive to the restaurant. The drive was quite not in a awkward way it was nice.

Soon enough you both made it to the restaurant, Colin gave the name of the reservation the waiter guided you both to a table. "Can I get you both any drinks?" The waiter asked as you both scanned through the drinks menu. "I'll just have a coke with ice" you said with a polite smile. "Yeah I'll have the same" Colin nodded to the waiter handing them the menu. "This place is really nice" you said admirably sure you had been to fancy restaurants years ago but nothing like this.

"I'm glad you like it" Colin smiled he couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked under the bright lights, your eyes shining in admiration taking the decor in. Within a few minutes the waiter came back with your drinks and more menu's, you both thanked the waiter before they left you to your own devices. You opened the menu everything sounded delicious you couldn't make your mind up.

"So hard to choose something" Colin broke the silence between you both. "It really is to be fair though the maple glazed chicken is really screaming at me" you giggled lightly which Colin returned.

Eventually you both sat with your food talking about anything and everything really getting to know each other. "So how come your single?" Colin asked you shrugged your shoulders before replying. "I guess I never really bothered with relationships ever since taking my sister in wasn't really a priority to get out there, how come your still single?" You then asked.

"I was engaged a few years ago but last minute she backed out" Colin summed up, you could see the hint of hurt in his eyes you felt sad that someone would do that to such a nice person. "Oh Colin I'm sorry that's really terrible" you sympathised with him but he shrugged it off.

"So how come your sister lives with you if you don't mind me asking?" He then asked. You contemplated whether to tell him, but you were both getting to know each other. "We'll my mum and dad were going through a rough patch in their marriage and I didn't want amy to see it all so I took her in till they got their act together, but now their going through a really messy divorce" you explained.

"Wow I'm so sorry it must be really hard for you both". You nodded in agreement "but apart from all that it's been great Amy, my sister she's just amazing I don't really want to see her go anytime soon" you lightly chuckled.

The date went really well in your opinion, you and Colin talked about your family's and memories you had growing up. It was the most fun you had in a while before you knew it the night came to an end Colin's car parked outside your door. A slight awkward silence formed between you both neither of you wanted the night to end just yet.

"Do you maybe want to come in for a drink?" You asked hoping he would take you up on the offer. "Yeah sure" Colin accepted both of you getting out his car and into your home. Shrugging out your jacket placing it on the coat hanger by the door Colin followed you like a lost puppy. "Take a seat make yourself at home" you smiled hoping it would calm him down a bit which kind of worked he sat on your sofa While you went into the kitchen.

"Beer?" You offered holding two glass bottles. Colin nodded thanking you taking a swig of the bitter alcoholic beverage. "Nice place you got" Colin nodded his eyes scanning your home. "Thanks" you smiled at him. A few drink into the night you and Colin were laughing at a joke he said. Colin couldn't help but look into your eyes, they were mesmerising to him. Colin's eyes darted between your eyes and lips till he gave in and crashes his lips on your own.

You were taken aback trying to process what was happening. Your lips almost automatically responded to the movement of Colin's lips. You felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach, a warm feeling in the depth of your soul. Your hand cupped his cheek smiling into the kiss. Colin pulled away his cheeks flustered, the grin never left your lips.

"I'm sorry i was out of line I shouldn't have done that without asking first" Colin apologised. You shook your head dismissively "no it's okay Colin I liked it" you bit your lip Colin smiled in relief his shoulders relaxed hearing you say those words. "Another beer?" You asked getting on your feet. "Sure I'll have one more then I got to go" Colin agreed.

"You can't drive under the influence Colin" you giggled "no I'll get a cab if it's alright for me to leave my car here I can pick it up in the morning" Colin asked you nodded "sure I'll get you that beer".

It was same to say that single beer turned into something more stronger. A few glasses of whiskey between you both. Before you knew it you were stumbling into your bedroom - hungrily kissing Colin's lips he was showing just the same amount of lust and desire as you with his lips.

You didn't know what had happened one minute you were conversing in a conversation, next you were stumbling into your bedroom practically ripping each others clothes off- but neither of you cared how it happened you were just glad it did.

Colin kicked the door shut with his heel before turning your body so it was pressed against the door. Sending shivers down your spine. His lips moved from your lips to your neck peppering hungry kisses along the skin. Every kiss he decorated on your flushed skin made you grow hotter, weaker, your head went fuzzy for the detective.

His hands on your waist holding you close to him, your hips subconsciously grinding against Colin's feeling his growing erection. "Oh fuck" you sighed as Colin continued to pay more attention to that one stop that made you react the most too. You skin felt hot with each touch of Colin's lips. They were addicting to you, leaving you craving more.

Colin's hands moved to the back of your thighs, you took this as a sign to jump. Wrapping your legs around his waist Colin carried you to your bed laying you on the mattress. Your dress hiked up exposing your matching black lace underwear making Colin gulp in arousal.

You grinned provocatively propping yourself up on your elbows. Looking up at Colin through your eyelashes as he removed his shirt before crawling onto you. Your lips reconnecting eagerly he was like a drug and you were the addict. You sat back up removing your dress discarding the fabric somewhere in the room.

Colin watched you with lustful eyes, he couldn't believe you were in front of him only in your black pace underwear set. You bit your lip seductively your leg grazing over his growing erection, giving Colin the perfect amount of friction.

Colin's slim fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, dragging the lace painfully slow off your body. His hands roamed your thighs, his face inching closer to wear you needed him most. Your chest heaved at the sight of Colin between your legs looking up at you for consent, which you granted with a nod. Darting his tongue out Colin licked a strip between your slick folds. You let out a groan of pleasure propping yourself on your elbows to look at him.

His tongue made its way to your clit, giving you the perfect amount of pleasure. His tongue continues to do its work on your heat, your body reacts to each time his tongue would circulate around your clit then dart your entrance. It felt so good looking down at Colin who's eyes were already on you, looking up at you through his eyelashes 'what a fucking sight'. You thought.

Colin brought his attention back to your clit, one of his hands that was holding your thigh still now entering your entrance. Your walls greedily accepted his fingers clenching around them earning a smirk from Colin. "That feel good" he asked admirably. "Mhmm" you moaned out your hand reaching down tugging his hair. With each time you tugged on Colin's locks his hips would subconsciously grind into the mattress for friction.

You soon felt the urge of release forming in the depth of your stomach, your hips beginning to grind against Colin's face and fucking yourself on his fingers. He didn't mind continuing to get you closer to the edge. "I'm so close" you warned.

Colin didn't say anything but he fasted his movements of his tongue and fingers till you finally let go over his face and hand. Your orgasm hit you hard, your toes curling, your thighs threatening to close around Colin's head as he lapped up your slick wetness.

Your legs trembling with the overstimulation, Colin pulled away from your heat, his hands soothed your trembling legs till you calmed down. Colin crawled back up on the bed till he was face to face with you. Nothing was said you just stared at each other with lustrous eyes.

Colin smacked his lips back on yours allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned into the kiss your hands roamed his bare chest snaking down to the belt buckle holding his trousers up. You managed to remove the belt without taking your lips off Colin's. Your hand cupped his clothed erection earning a low groan from Colin.

With a blink of an eye you flipped both of you over so you were on top of Colin. Straddling his thighs you removed the rest of the articles of clothing he had left letting his cock sprung free. You gasped at the sight, he was larger than you had anticipated. You took the base off his cock in your hand giving him a few tugs before a lining the tip with your sopping entrance sinking down on him slowly.

Your face scrunching up as he stretches you out. A mixture of pain and pleasure, you both moan in unison you took a few moments to adjust to his size. Your hips moves up and down bouncing along his length at a slow and steady pace. Colin let out a series of sighs and grunts, the moans leaving your lips turning him on more.

Colin watched the way your tits would bounce within your lace bra, his hands on your back pulling you down so he could unclasp the lacy fabric allowing your breasts to fall freely. Colin took your left nipple in his mouth swirling around the hardened bud, you moaned at the sensation. Your hips bouncing along his length feeling every inch of him stretching you out.

Your hands resting on Colin's chest for leverage and to keep you steady. Colin's lips gave attention to your other nipple giving caressing it with his warm mouth. You pulled away from Colin's lips, starting to bounce more faster on Colin's lap, moving your hips in slight circular motions earning a moan from Colin, it was probably the most hottest thing you could have ever heard in your life.

Colin's tight grip on your hips helping you bounce on him, "you look so beautiful" Colin slurred bucking his hips meeting yours. You let out a smile biting your lip, your legs feeling tired, Colin flipped you both over so you were now underneath him. His hand lifted your leg to his shoulder hitting a deeper angle. You cried out in pure pleasure at the new position.

"Fuck right there" you moaned your body jolting with each of his thrusts. You felt close to the edge once again, your walls clenching around Colin greedily taking all of him.

“I’m gonna-“ “let go baby” Colin cut you off you didn’t need to be told twice. Your orgasm ripped through you harder than the last one, your back arched practically screaming Colin’s name. Your orgasm triggered Colin’s own high releasing inside of you.

Colin rode out your blissful orgasms, both you breathless, bodies slick with sweat. Colin pulled out of you making you sigh at the loss of contact. He collapsed beside you on the bed his hand running down his face collecting himself.

“That was”- you paused for a moment trying to catch you breath, “bad?” Colin cringed thinking you absolutely hated what happened between you both. “The opposite it was amazing” you smiled placing a chaste kiss on his lips. you both still had a slight buzz from the alcohol you both consumed earlier.

A hum came from Colin as you kissed his lips, his eyes growing heavy. “You tired?” You asked setting yourself back down on your pillow. “You wore me out” Colin chuckled laying on his stomach, his head facing you. A yawn escaped your lips your eyes suddenly feeling heavy too. “I’m tired too” you giggled sleepily. Colin turned to lay on his side his arm around your bare waist, you nuzzled closer to him drifting off to sleep.

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 2 months

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Hi, it's Lyn. I really liked the fanfics you wrote me! Um, if it's okay, can I request a fic with Howl X female reader, where the female reader has a breakdown because her family is falling apart (parents won't talk to each other/emotionally divorced, father is distant, mother is unkind and angry, sister is always aggressive) and Howl comforts her? Things are really tough for me right now so I kinda need some comfort like that, if it's okay?

Also, um, I don't go by Lyn anymore, I go by Aoife/Angel (yeah, I'm pretty indecisive when coming up with a name)

Hi Aofie! Thank you for your request! This was actually really therapeutic to write since I've been going through a bit of a rough period as well. I hope this helps you get through this tough time. I hope you like the fic!

Fandom: Howl's Moving Castle

Characters: Howl Pendragon x gn! Reader

Word Count: 0.6k (684 words)

You sat in your room, feet hanging off the side of your bed as you tried not to cry.

You could feel the heat behind your eyes and any hopes you had of distracting yourself from your rising emotions was dashed by the fact that you could no longer see properly through the wave of tears that was just being held back.

You’d had enough.

You curled in on yourself, almost tipping off the bed in the process. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let the tears fall freely as you took great gasping intakes of breath between sobs.

You hoped crying would make you feel better but at the moment, you felt pretty awful, both mentally, physically, and emotionally.

You were so caught up in your own roiling thoughts that you didn’t hear the footsteps until the bed sunk down next to you and there was a hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

You sniffed and, through everything, you caught the distinctive smell of Howl’s cologne. You turned to him, keeping your face lowered and planted your face in his lap, wrapping your arms weakly around his waist.

Howl brought his other hand to your head, scratching slowly at your scalp while maintaining the circles on your back with his other hand.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, letting all of your emotions out. All you knew was that when you finally couldn’t cry anymore, there was a wet patch where your face had been resting.

Howl must have felt you stir because his hands paused and he leaned down so his mouth was closer to your ear.

“Feeling any better?” He kept his voice low and gentle.

You sniffed in response, not sure yet whether you felt any different.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There was a long period of silence and you considered this. Just as you heard Howl take a breath as if to speak, you broke the silence.

“My family’s falling apart. My mum and dad aren’t talking to each other. My mum’s angry all the time. My dad’s distant. My sister’s aggressive.” You couldn’t stop talking now that you had opened the floodgates, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.” With a shuddering breath, you fell back into Howl’s lap, fresh tears flowing from your eyes.

Howl resumed rubbing circles on your back. He remained quiet but you could almost hear him thinking about the right way to respond to everything you had just told him.

After another long silence, he spoke. “I’m glad you told me. My relationship with my family is quite different to yours so I won’t claim to know how you feel. But I can imagine something that I hope is close to how you’re feeling.”

Another pause. Then he leant down and pressed a kiss to your head. Keeping his lips close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m here if you need anything. Want to talk? Want to scream and cry? Want me to distract you? Anything. I’m here for you. Things will get better.”

You had stopped crying and, at Howl’s words, felt a weak smile tug at your mouth. You were grateful you had such a supportive boyfriend.

He patted your back. “Come on. Up you hop. Let me see your lovely face.”

You hesitated, almost laughing. “I’ve just been crying. I certainly don’t have a lovely face at the moment.”

“Nonsense.” Howl lifted you from his lap and, holding you by the shoulders, examined your face with loving care, “You always have a lovely face.”

Your weak smile was back, this time a bit stronger than before.

“How about we go and wash your face and I’ll make a snack for you. Then you’ll feel like a brand new person.”

You nodded, feeling how raw your face and eyes were. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

Howl smiled, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for you. “Think nothing of it sweetheart. It’s the least I can do for the person who holds my heart.”

#writing #fanfic #fanfic request #request #howl's moving castle #howl's moving castle x reader #howl pendragon #howl pendragon x reader #howl jenkins #howl jenkins x reader

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creepywrites · 7 months

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Vicky Genocidal

Trigger warning: self harm, mutilation

Vicky used to be a fairly happy kid before everyone's incidents, always cheering people up, afterwards she became a lot more bitter and cynical.

Some things still bring her back to those happy times, things like hanging out with Hannah and Jane, watching Twilight and listening to Lana Del Ray.

People at school already thought her and Jeff were dating when they were friends, that only intensified when she was the only one unscathed.

She loves Bingus with all her heart and makes sure he's well cared for.

Vicky chews on her fingers and sleeve to help with her anxiety.

She stopped smoking sometime after the incident, mainly because killing was her new fix. She picked up smoking from her dad, she snuck a cigarette because her dad said it helped him, her mum just left and she needed that help.

If someone asks her about her mum, Vicky says she died by alcohol poisoning.

She hates the weird light blonde kind of colour the bleach made her hair, and always dyes it black or dark brown.

She used to always carry a pocket knife just in case someone were to attack her again.

Vicky would hate to be a mum, she doesn't even like kids let alone be able to look after one in her situation, so after practicing on a lot of women so she knows exactly what to do, and how to patch it up, she removed her uterus, because she doesn't want some accident kid, either. Vicky really wanted to be a doctor, she wanted to since she was 6, to the point she liked to pretend to play doctor with her victims, which is where she had gotten the idea to practice removing their uterus.

After she's finished she would often eat the organs she took out.

Or she will store them into jars.

She would blast heavy metal music to prevent people from hearing. She's completely stopped killing, now she's just trying to live her life as peaceful as she can with Hannah and Bingus.

She even goes out in public with sunglasses and a mask or something similar.

She refuses to touch alcohol because of her mum, who used to be an alcoholic.

She has a weird friendship between Randy, she thought he was a cool rebel, like in a Hannah cool way, and he liked her because she grounded him.

She sympathised with them because Jane grew up in a similar environment.

Although she likes Randy, she hated the other two.

She couldn't decide on her style and often switches between goth and emo.

Her favourite bands are Cryoshell, Lana Del Ray and My Chemical Romance, she completely changed her music taste to get closer to her dad and to try and express herself, before all of that she liked Taylor swift, and Rites of Spring.

She was 16 going on 17 after Jeff's incident, and was 19 when her incident happened.

She was a part time cleaner, she would steal some of the food for Jane, sometimes for Randy and Sully,

too.

She collects vintage clothes, mainly 80's emo outfits.

Vicky sometimes mimics the style from that period.

Vicky feels she didn't go through enough, that she doesn't deserve the title as a victim because she wasn't disfigured like Jane and Hannah, or dead like Sully. To make herself more deserving she would burn her stomach or hips with her lighter.

This caused scarring, much to Vicky's delight.

She regrets it now.

She looks like this because of a newly developed bleach to remove mould, like regular bleach, it’s extremely bad for the skin, but this can permanently ruin your skin and hair. a chemical developed by former chemist Carl Sullivan to be the key ingredient in Moldicide.

This chemical on its own is highly dangerous to unprotected flesh, as it can burn directly through normal clothes, permanently scarring the skin.

She uses heavy makeup to make her skin look less cracked and rough.

Her hair sometimes falls out in chunks because of how damaged her hair is.

After her incident the product was pulled from the shelves for adjustments, so nothing like that could happen again.

She was friends with Jeff because he had no friends and she felt bad, eventually she saw him as a good friend and help him with the bullying, now she just sees him as this monster, that’s no longer human.

To this day she still doesn't grasp why he did the things he did.

Vicky is aware of Jane the killer, and avoids her like the plague, she will not go anywhere near where she's been spotted because she's kind of afraid of her.

She's fluent in English and Ukrainian.

Vicky knows a lot of asl, because she found it really interesting.

She used to carry around her dads skull, after she stopped killing, she eventually gets rid of the skull.

She used to clean and polish the head.

Vicky loves to draw on her legs, she usually draws stars, skulls, and hearts.

She was one of the smartest in her grade, she studied extensively so that she could get into a good med school, this is why she only sewed the bottom of her eyelids.

It took Vicky 5 years to find Hannah and Jane.

Jane and Vicky looked very similar, a lot of people mistook them for twins, they’d even dress up like each other and pretend to be each other.

She adores Sphynx cats, she’d love to give them little boots and sweaters, if she ever finds one she’d probably adopt him and make it Binguses brother.

When Vicky was just starting out, the police caught her and she went to jail for 1 year, this is how Liu knew where she was.

When she was in there, it was horrible for her, because she would always pick fights or get in peoples business. Vicky eventually just minded her own business to prevent dying in there.

She doesn’t know how to do much with her hair, and only knows how to do a half ponytail and a full one.

She doesn’t really care to learn, either.

#creepypasta #headcanon #headcanons #jeff the killer #homicidal liu #jane the killer #jane arkensaw #jane everlasting #vicky genocidal #jtk

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legendsofmyriad · 8 months

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Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 17: Sunlight and Dust

Speeding wheels kicked up a shower of sand, churning up the pale grains and spitting them onto the deep tracks. The heavy fabric canopy protecting them from the scorching sun billowed with the steady momentum and carried a cooling air current into the vehicle.

“Do you mind tightening that rope?” Rhena asked, waving to the loose cord fluttering frantically from the tail of the car.

With a soft grunt, Alek shuffled onto his knees and twisted round. Rough canvas shaved against his wrist as he extended his arm to grab the rope, his fingers feeling for the frayed fibres until he finally snatched hold. Heaving himself inside, he coiled it around the bar and secured it with a tight knot.

“Thanks. Been meaning to get it fixed, but… well…” Frustration scrunched at her face as she held up her bandaged limb and winced at the tingled ache. The infernal bandages not only limited her movement but also made it impossible for her to fix her car sufficiently. Cas had brought her inside the house multiple times after discovering her with vehicle components balanced on an uplifted thigh and tools in her mouth, desperately trying to prove she could still manage. She maintained she could, but for the sake of her worried partner she relented.

“Are you sure you’re good to be driving with an injury like that?” Alek questioned, settling into his seat and straightening the seatbelt over his lap.

“It’s not that bad anymore. The doctors are just being cautious with the bandages,” Rhena assured him. “Besides, I can drive with my feet if I need to.”

“You’ve done that before?”

“Course I have,” she laughed. “You won’t find a vector racer who hasn’t tested it at least once. There have been a few races where drivers had no choice but to resort to it. Some even do it just to show off, but the Racing Federation has cracked down on it quite hard over the past few years.”

Inhaling at the humid air, he tried not to think about the accidents she must have seen after racers had taken those reckless risks. Yet the dangers didn’t deter Rhena and others from participating in the sport, and he figured there must have been a significant payoff for them to put their lives on the line in such a way. “What got you into racing?” he inquired curiously.

“My dad,” she said, gaze drifting to the steering wheel as a wistful smile played on her lips. “He was an incredible racer, but he had to stop. His body couldn’t keep up with the demands anymore. My old coach saw my talent and convinced my parents to let me do some trial runs. Mum hated the idea. She always told me how terrified she was whenever my dad raced and she didn’t want to go through that again, but she never stopped me.”

“They let you choose?”

“Yeah. They did.” Glimpsing into the top mirror, she noticed a pensive look cross his features. “Did your parents not give you a choice in what you wanted to do?”

“Not really,” Alek replied, picking at his thumbs. “When the Sunbreak Army was established, they pushed for me to be a part of it. I think they assumed it would boost them up the social ladder.”

“What would you have chosen?”

With a dismissive shrug, he heaved a short, exasperated breath. “I don’t know, but it would have been nice for them to ask me before sending in my application to the Academy.”

As the wheels crossed a densely packed span of dunes, Rhena adjusted herself in her seat to the rhythm of the bumps and lifts. The further they got from civilisation, the more the ground flattened, and the rainbow hues from the towering translucent structures floated in patches on the grains.

“Are they natural?” Alek asked, gesturing to the crystalline formations. “Or do people make them?”

“They’re all natural,” Rhena told him. “The sand sometimes gets so hot that it turns into glass. As more is blown onto it and heats, it grows. Some of these are hundreds of years old.”

Leaning into the rock and sway of the vehicle, Alek pushed aside the fabric drape and shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight, drinking in the sight of the soaring towers.

“It’s quite valuable,” Rhena added, “but nobody dares to go near them since they give off rather nasty burns.”

“I know that from experience,” Alek grumbled. He inched forward and raised his sleeve, displaying the raw, red splotches on his skin. Most of them had blistered and begun to heal, but a few stubbornly remained, and he resisted the temptation to scratch at them.

The driver let out a teasing coo of endearment. “Looks like you’re becoming a real sandboy, huh?” she chuckled warmly, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to the pile of cardboard cartons on the seats next to him. “Check the top box. Should be some green jars. You see them?”

“This one?” Alek said, rooting in the packaging and removing a stout jade jar.

“That’s it. Shove some of that on your burns and they’ll heal up in no time.”

He pried the lid open and placed it at his side, applying some of the gooey salve to the angry marks. An immediate sense of relief cooled his aches and appeased the tension in his muscles.

“Keep that if you want,” Rhena said, “I’ve got plenty.”

With gratitude in his eyes, Alek thanked her and spread a little more on his injuries before shoving the container into his satchel.

He peeked out again at the rolling plains and locked onto the silvery white column gushing light into the sky. Home called to him, familiar and comforting, but the soldier within his soul reminded him he wasn’t done with his mission yet.

“Shit,” Rhena hissed as the vehicle bounced down a steep dune, wheels grinding on the rough terrain.

Bracing himself through the shakes and wobbles, Alek leaned through the gap between the driver and the passenger seats. “Everything okay?” he asked. As she yanked at the gear stick, a disgruntled whir emitted from beneath the car. “Is it supposed to do that?”

“All part of the fun,” Rhena replied. She clicked at the buttons beside the steering wheel and the exhaust released a pitiful splutter, as though to converse with the grating rumble of the engine.

“Still part of the fun?”

“Of course.”

“Is that why it smells like rotting eggs in here?”

Rhena grunted under her breath about backseat drivers and altered the controls, slowing them gradually to balance the unbridled rise and fall. The clanging pipes subsided, but the scraping persisted, its constant growling making her uneasy. She’d checked the car before they set off, going through her list and ticking off each item. Yet the gears protested and the smell of hot sulphur intensified.

Jolting the wheel and spinning it to its limit, she pulled over on flatter land and locked the handbrake. “Okay,” she whistled, “let’s have a look at you, you pain in the arse.”

For a moment, Alek thought she was addressing him and poked at his chest, brows curving downwards like a kicked puppy until she tapped on the car and gave him a tickled laugh.

She squatted down and angled herself to peer at the connectors underneath. Gushes of uncomfortable heat poured from the lower engine and she rose with a short huff. She moved to the front and hauled up the bonnet. “Found you,” she muttered, balancing on her toes to lean over and dig out a clump of damp dirt. “Looks like there’s a nasty blockage in one of the main valves. Some of the water leaked and sand got stuck. Might take a bit to clear.”

With a vigilant jump, Alek made the steep step down onto the searing sands. A silver-tinged stream of light rose from behind a dune, and he lifted his shawl above his eyes to block the radiant glare of sunlight. “It doesn’t seem too far to the gateway. I can walk it if you want to stay here and mend the car.”

“You sure?” Rhena said, peeking around the bonnet with her sludge-smothered hands still inside the piping. At the fearless nod, she gestured to the boot. “There are some metal poles in there. Was going to use them to replace the struts, but take one of them just in case you need it.”

“I’ll be fine, I have my magic,” Alek said, showing her his palm and letting it gleam.

“Magic or not, sometimes you’re better clobbering something and making a dash for it,” Rhena pressed.

He sensed she wouldn’t let him go alone unless he agreed to her conditions, so he selected a pole the length of his forearm and swung it a few times to get used to the weight.

“There you go, sandboy,” she teased. She watched him twirl it with controlled rotations of his wrist before he struck out at the air with an audible whoosh. “Mind you don’t wear yourself out.”

“I’m a trained soldier,” he said, flipping the pipe behind his back and snatching it with the other hand. “Well, almost. I still have my final year at the Academy to complete, and then I’ll be eligible to join the Sunbreak Army, and there’s a lot of rigorous training after that before I-” He paused at Rhena’s arched eyebrow and secured the make-shift weapon to his bicep band. “I’m just going to, um, see to the gateway, and check that everything is… you know… all right.”

“If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll come looking for you,” she called after him, swiping the red curls stuck to her forehead with her thumb. “No promises, but I’ll try not to spook you.”

Alek climbed the last metres of the dune on all fours, his hands sinking into the uncomfortably warm sand. At the top, he caught his breath and took in the view of the open land below. Azuris police tape fluttered by a concrete circle and a lengthy shadow stretched from a cave nearby.

Descending the hill, he kept an arm behind himself in case of any slips, and ignited a small orb once in the shade. A crudely cut plate of corrugated metal covered the cave mouth and he traced the bumps until he felt the biting edges. The ends hadn’t been welded to secure it, and glancing about as though someone out there in the pale nothingness would spot him, he wriggled his fingers into the bottom corner gap and drove a strengthened pulse of magic into it. In creaking inches, it curled, and he coaxed it further until he had enough room to crawl through.

Inside, the wide tunnel gave way to smaller, darker passages that he navigated with caution, following the magnetic buzz of the gateway until he came to the round auditorium.

Before he could inspect the glittering portal, a body slammed into his side and knocked him down, the solid, gritty surface stealing the breath from his lungs. Wheezing, he skimmed the skeletal remains and decomposing corpses on the ground, clambering to his feet to launch a spark of magic at the approaching assailant. His spells did nothing, bouncing off shredded clothes. With a flick of his hand, he raised an enchanted shield and retreated. The man walked straight through and smirked.

A wave of panic washed over the student as he realised his powers were worthless, and he explored alternative options. Limbs cricking and resetting with each movement, the creature advanced at speed, avoiding the sunlit spots cutting through the broken ceiling.

Alek evaded the swipe with a drop and a roll, poising for a counterattack. Think, he urged himself. Your magic may be useless but…

An idea struck him as the monster’s pale wrist scratched a bloom of sunlight and a hiss tore from his flesh. In the faint glow, Alek could see the strange angle of his jawbone and a fresh scar.

“The gateway needs more blood,” the vampyre spoke, almost in a frenzied panic. “This one does not lead to Lucarian as it should. Just some barren world.”

“Look, I can help,” Alek said, hoping to avoid a violent confrontation. “I know the man who made these. He’ll fix it.”

“No. No! The right sacrifice opened the gateway all those centuries ago, and it will get me home now.”

The creature sped at him again, but this time Alek snatched the pipe attached to his shoulder band, forcing his magic to steel his muscles and swinging up into the attacker’s chin. With a sickening snap, the pole shattered through bone and cartilage and sent him stumbling into the brandished sunlight. He let out a piercing wail and the warrior student lifted the weapon, thrusting it down through rib cage and unbeating heart until it pinned him to the ground.

The creature’s body writhed and twisted, spilling a haunting shriek that the cave walls absorbed. When it finally burst, all that remained was a pile of dust and sand, and the contorted, angled pole.

* * *

“Come on, give me a break, just work,” Rhena growled. With her arm straining to extend through the driver’s window, she shimmied the ignition key until the valves spat and emitted a revolting churn. “I got it all out. What else is wrong with you?”

Returning to the exposed mechanisms of the car, she flew into an exasperated tirade and rubbed the grease and sweat from her palms as she rummaged in the tool bag on the ground. She chose a shovelled instrument and climbed up onto the bumper to get a clearer view of the pipes. After wriggling around them, she found the smallest one and unhooked it. Wet sand belched from the barely opened gap and she scrambled to unlock the hatch in the floor of the engine casing. Coagulated clumps dumped themselves into the shade.

“You better be easy to clean,” Rhena warned the sorry mass of soggy sediment as it oozed over the cables. “Otherwise, Cas will not be happy.”

With a bit of effort, she managed to snag most of the splodges before they landed on the prongs or lodged in the cogwheels, and mopped up the rest with little resistance. Once the sludge began to temper, she mended the minor leak in the overflow pipes and reinforced them with canvas tape for the ride home.

“Get through all that,” she challenged, striding backwards to survey her handiwork and thrusting her hands onto her hips like the mechanics in the adverts did after completing a tricky repair. With a snort at her own antics, she checked the coolant levels on the dashboard metre and turned the key in the ignition again. The engine sputtered and hacked before decisively settling into a smooth purr, and Rhena gave the hood a reassuring pat. “That’s what I want to hear. Takes a little time and care, is all. Worth the wait, huh?”

Alek shot down the dune in a frantic sprint, his gasps for air coming out in flustered wheezes. He surveyed the rising incline behind him as though trying to wipe something off his chin with his shoulder.

“There you are,” Rhena said. “The car is up and running again. You get the scans you needed?”

“Yeah… I um…” He squinted at the apex of the dune he’d run down and pressed his lips into a tight line, struggling to ignore the uneasy twinge in his chest.

“That’s good, I suppose.” The vector racer waggled her fingers in front of his face to snap him out of his daze. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

A faint whimper warbled in Alek’s throat as he fought against the trembles wracking his body. How could he explain what he’d witnessed? He wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. “This is going to sound really weird.”

“Weirder than the stuff you’ve already told me?”

“Way weirder.”

Rhena folded her arms and eyed the tight grip he kept on the dented pole. Crimson blobs collected on the metal and stained his blanched knuckles.

“So I arrived at the gateway and this guy… this thing, just attacked me. Threw me right on the floor like I weighed nothing. I got up and tried to use my magic, but it was worthless against him.”

“What do you mean ‘thing’?” Rhena questioned. “Was it a man or not?”

“I’m not sure,” Alek admitted, voice faltering. “He seemed kind of human, but his eyes were blood red, and he was gangly and grey, and he was desperate to kill me. I smacked him with the pipe and he slipped in some sunlight. I certainly wasn’t waiting for him to get back up, so I stabbed him with it and he… he… screamed a bit. And poof.” He used his fingers to mimic an explosion and stared at his bloodied digits.

“Poof?”

“He burst into dust. Don’t know whether it was the sun that killed him or the pole, but the only creature I know of that does that is a vampyre.” He dragged in a deep breath and reconsidered his conclusion, but his initial assessment remained unchanged. Despite his extensive research on Eternity, there was no mention of a haggard man like the one he’d encountered, leading him to believe that he must have come from elsewhere. “But they’re a myth. They aren’t real.”

“Perhaps they are,” Rhena shrugged, shutting and securing the bonnet quietly so as not to spook him further. He appeared helpless, his gaze darting back and forth and his knuckles growing taut as he clasped the metal piping close to his torso. “Oh, kid, you’ve got yourself into some right trouble, haven’t you?”

“I hope not.”

Gently extracting the pipe from his grip, she slid it in the boot with the others and prompted him to the backseats. She climbed into the driver’s seat and activated the motors, setting her feet on the pedals. “Whatever it was, it sounds like it’s gone,” she said encouragingly. “If it makes you feel any better, there have been no reports of vampyres or other mythical creatures, so that one in the cave may have been stranded here alone.”

Alek glanced out of the flailing mesh. The endless stretch of pallid grains extended to the radiant azure sky, and the crawling figure he expected to spot never showed.

He acknowledged her reassurances with a mumble, but his furrowed brow housed his lingering doubts. While the reviving gateways offered the possibility of wonderful opportunities, it also opened the floodgates to thousands of horrific monsters waiting for new worlds to consume. You’re getting ahead of yourself, he scolded. Others like him may not be a threat.

“You’ve only got a few scrapes and bruises,” Rhena said, examining the weeping cuts and fresh bruises near his collarbone and up his wrists. “It’s nothing some bandages and a cup of warm lemon tea won’t solve.”

#legends of myriad #legendsofmyriad #story series #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy story #fantasy series #writblr #writing #original writing #original fic #original fiction #writing tag

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alltoolewis · 3 years

Note

Ben coming home from an away game with his mum telling him about the rough day you had due to your pregnancy. Your nausea being so bad that you can’t keep anything down, not even water so your doctor came home and put you on a drip (you know the needle in the hand kind of thing). she says that you didn’t want him to get distracted from his game. Please and thank you so muchhhhh

"She's what!" Ben screamed, despite his mothers pleads to not wake you up "Mum! She's pregnant & I'm the father..." Running his hand through his gelled hair, heartbreaking as he looked through the small gap through the door, your exhausted frame curled up the couch, one hand holding your growing bump and the other outstretched as IV continued to drip "I'm her husband..." His voice cracked as the tears fell down his cheeks, feeling so useless, I mean you were carrying for his baby while he goes out for weeks kicking a ball around a patch of grass!

"I know sweetie I know..." She cooed, pulling her firstborn into a hug, allowing him to let out all his frustration and emotions, knowing how draining it can be. "I was gonna tell you I promise" "Why didn't you mum!" He sobbed, pulling away as he looked into his mother's eyes "She needed me mum and I wasn't there! What dad will be if I can't even look after them while there, not he-"

"Let me stop your them, Mr Benjamin James Chilwell!" His mother interrupted "You are an amazing husband! & your gonna be incredible dad ben! & You know why??? because you Mr our the most caring, generous, loveable man in the world & I'm so honoured to call you my son..."

Both of their heads turning as they hear your small calls from the living room. "And that amazing woman in there, that is carrying your baby, is proud to call you her husband! & right at this moment of time when she needs you... you're here! so go be with her Ben..."

Giving his mum one last hug & a quick thank you, ben made his way over to you, crouching down as he gently held your IV'd hand. "Hey you..." he sighed, tucking the loose strand away from your eyes.

"Ben.." You groaned, eyes squinting as the bright hit you "What are you doing here... you have a game!"

"I had a gut feeling that something was happening.." He chuckled, leaning down to your ear as he whispered "I was right.... why didn't you tell me, baby.."

Groaning, you tried to sit up, ben's arms instantly helping you sitting next to you as your head fell to his shoulder. "I didn't want to distract you, Ben... I know how hard it has been with the team recently & I didn't want you to miss your chance...I'm a distraction"

"(y/n)..." Ben sighed, lifting your chin up so your gaze could meet yours "You are not a distraction... you're my wife. & this bundle of joy..." Placing his free hand on your bump "Is our baby... our baby, the baby we are going to love and cherish for the rest of our lives... You are not a distraction, whenever you need me, whenever you both need I will be there..."

Placing a kiss on your lips, he whispered in your mouth "I love you Mrs Chilwell" Leaning down he left another small kiss, this time on your growing bump "& I love you baby chilly..."

With his head on your belly, you stayed like this for hours. Both of you chatting away about the future, holding your little one for the first, or them meeting the team, going on walks to the park as they splashed in the puddles. His mother watched on, knowing that her son was where he belonged... with his growing family, she knew he would be just fine!

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell blurb #ben chilwell imagine

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

Text

Purple Patches

Benedict Cumberbatch x Teen!Co-Star!Reader, Tom Holland x Teen!Co-star!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

Description: Filming the newest Dr. Strange movie (in which Tom would also appear), you grow quite close with the two leads, Tom and Benedict. But you’re hiding something alarming from them. Four months in the entire crew get a week off to see their families for Christmas, and when you return Tom and Benedict can’t help but feel troubled, as your body is rippled with purple patches.

Warnings: CHILD ABUSE, physical abuse, broken family, alcoholism, depression, anxiety??

A/N: I had another imagine written but im ngl its kind of.. weird? its unconventional for sure. and its definitely bad. so, maybe ill rewrite someday or something? ALSO SORRY IF YOU DONT CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, JUST IMAGINE YOU HAVE SOME SORT OF EVIL CHRISTIAN STEP DAD WHO FORCES IT INTO YOUR FAMILY

The taxi you sat in drove slowly in the New York traffic, as snow fell outside, coating the entire city in blinding white. You couldn’t enjoy it however. Your entire body hurt, and yet you still couldn’t find even a moment to worry about your health. All you could think about was them.

Tom and Benedict. Your sweetest coworkers, and at this point your closest.. anything. Family, friends? Who cares, you had no one else. You’d gone back for the holidays like everyone else, even though you wished you could have just stayed at in your trailer. Your dad, like any other time you saw him, had used this time to pour his anger and alcoholism out on you. Your body which had finally begun to heal, was now back to square one, covered in cuts and bruises.

You knew what would happen if anyone found out. You’d be taken from your family. But in truth, although you hated being around him, you wanted to wait for your dad. You wanted to wait for him to get over his alcoholism, you wanted him to get better, and then he’d treat you better.

But they would find out. You were covered in bruises and purple patches. Your face was fine, except for your neck, but the rest of your body was ruined. Ugly. You could hide most of it, but it hurt. Even just sitting there, in the soft and plush taxi seat, you body was aching and wailing like a police siren.

And what if they noticed you foundation-covered hands? Or the movie required you to wear something more revealing?

“You okay?” the deep voice of your taxi driver ripped you from your thoughts. A single tear had slid down your face. You cleared your throat and nodded, wiping the tear from your cheek.

You arrived at the set, and an impossible knot had been tied in your stomach. Nervousness tingled in your heart and your legs, but you got up anyway, trying to calm your breath. The moment you stood up, you winced and stopped.

You managed to roll your luggage to your trailer, biting your lip continuously in order to keep yourself from screaming. You threw it on the floor of your trailer, whimpering and doubling over in pain.

“Y/n!” a rapid knock on your door, interrupted you. It was Tom’s voice. You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes, and then opening the door. Tom stood there in your doorway like a smiling idiot. Your lips widened into a smile just from seeing him.

“Y/n!” he repeated stepping inside and wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You bit your lip again, hiding your pain-wrenched face in his chest, before hugging him back. He placed his head on yours sweetly. “I missed you!” he gushed.

You hit his chest playfully, “I missed you too,” you frowned for a moment and looked away. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you okay?” You simply nodded. Tom stared at you for a moment and then shook his head. “Anyway, um, Benedict asked me to tell you that he’s invited both of us youngsters out for dinner tonight. Just as one last ‘fuck you!’ to work, before officially start back up tomorrow.”

“That does sound like something he would do,” you agreed and Tom laughed, punching your shoulder playfully. You yelped loudly, retreating quickly from him.

“Woah,” he exclaimed, holding his hands up, “Are you okay? What happened to your shoulder?”

“I fell,” you said. Nervousness jabbed at your ribs. You’d barely talked to Tom for a minute and he’d already asked if you were okay twice. He seemed to buy your explanation, and apologized for accidentally hitting your sore shoulder, to which you nodded absently.

Tom was silent for a couple of heartbeats. He studied you. You were not usually like this. Or maybe you had been a little like this those four months ago, when you first started filming. He didn’t understand what caused you to be that way, so distant and unhappy.

“Hey, anyway, I’m gonna go, I’m trying to actually read the script this time,” he joked, and you laughed because you knew it was a hopeless task.

“Have fun,” you mumbled, and as soon he left, you body slid down against the wall, and your facade crumbled, tears leaving your eyes.

___________________________

Before the dinner, you took three pain killers. Then, you waited restlessly, hoping that the pills might kick in. They did but your body felt strange and buzzy. You ignored it, a blossoming hope forming in your chest that you might be able to conceal your pain in the pills and the clothing.

Benedict came knocking on your door around 7, a smile on his face. “Y/n!” he said, and you both hugged. A small smile had formed on your lips, when you actually managed to deal with the ache, now much weaker than previously.

You both then walked to Tom’s trailer, and then the three of you walked to a restaurant, not too far from your filming location.

“So, what have you two been up to in our little break?” Benedict asked once you all sat down, having ordered already. You glanced at Tom, hoping that he’d start.

“Me and my brothers went back home to our mum and dad. Had a pretty regular Christmas. I gave the best gifts. I got some pretty cool socks,” Tom joked around. You and Benedict stifled a laugh. Then both Ben and Tom looked at you, and you realized it was your turn to tell them about what you’d been up to.

“Oh, well, I.. I spent Christmas with my parents. My grandparents and cousins also came,” you were lying through your teeth. You avoided their eyes, sipping your soda.

“Got any presents?” Benedict asked and you cursed at yourself internally for forgetting such a simple part of Christmas. And for making things awkward.

“I got some clothes, some books. Pretty standard stuff,” you forced a smile, “What about you, Benadryl?”

Benedict rolled his eyes at your comment, making you and Tom fist-bump one another, giggling quietly as he told you about his own Christmas. The night was going alright, except for that rough start. Mostly you avoided any talk of your family, and you could feel yourself getting better, the further the conversation got from your family. Until-

“Y/n, what’s that on your hand?”

Instinctively, you pulled your hand to your lap, straightening yourself up and gulping. You looked down, pretending to inspect it and then looked up.

“It’s, uh, it’s dirt. Wow, I should really go wash my hands, haha-” Tom grabbed your hand from under the table, pulling it towards him. Your foundation was wearing off, a large purple patch stemming from your wrist and snaking up your hand revealing itself.

You couldn’t breathe. Both Tom and Ben just stared at it. You tried to pull back but Tom was much stronger than you. Tears blurred your vision.

“Y/n, what is this?” Tom whispered, and you felt his fingers rubbing the bruise gently. The tears finally fell, and now both men were looking at you. Benedict looked serious. It was an expression you’d never really seen on his features before, at least not outside of your acting.

“I-I fell..” you mumbled, but you knew it was useless.

“Y/n.. Who did this?” Benedict’s voice was low, gently setting a hand on your shoulder. You flinched.

“I don’t know.. I don’t..”

“Y/n!” Tom’s voice was raised. You immediately jumped away from them both, putting your arms in front of you in fear. Several people turned to look at you three. Shaking, you lowered your hands, and saw Tom and Ben staring at you worriedly. Tom had tears in his eyes.

“Let’s talk about this back at the studio, okay?” Benedict, now afraid to touch you, spoke slowly and comfortingly. You nodded and then two men got up, standing on either side of you, grabbing one of your hands each.

“Was it your dad?” Tom growled as you walked in the night, moon rising in the sky.

“Yes..” you whispered, so low you wondered if they heard it, but they did. They both exchanged glances. Tom was furious. Benedict was too, but he was collected. Tom itched to ask you more and help you, console you right there on the street, but Benedict sent him a warning look not to.

You walked back to the studio in silence. The three of you entered your trailer and you quietly wished you had predicted something like this would happen, because the bottle of strong pain killers was still out and open on your kitchen table.

Benedict spotted them immediately and grabbed them. His eyes narrowed as he read the bottle description. Then he looked at you and then it again. Tom watched helplessly, holding your shoulders gently.

“How many more are there? Bruises.” Ben was clearly angry. He was losing his cool, hands shaking as he grabbed your hand to pull up your sleeve. You tried to move his hand away, but he slid the sleeve up to your elbow and just stared at the blue, yellow and purple that littered your arm. Tom was frozen beside you.

Ben slid up your other sleeve, breathing speeding up as he saw more, and then he tugged at the collar of your turtleneck, exposing the jarring and ugly sight of a red handprint. He pulled away suddenly, walking away from you.

“Fuck!” he yelled, hitting the wall of the trailer. He hung his head low. You jumped and turned around, but Tom simply embraced you, and then sat you both down on the floor. You hid your face in his neck, sobbing again. Tom’s hands slowly rubbed your back.

“Okay..” said Benedict after a while. You could hear that he’d calmed down. Ben angrily wiped a few tears from his face, turning to you and Tom on the floor. Tom was simply frowning now. He never wanted to let you go. He never wanted any harm to come to you.

“I’m gonna call the police and get your dad arrested,” he said, and you heard his footsteps, as he wondered what to do next.

“No!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet away from Tom. Both men looked at you in confusion. “No! You can’t do that, he’s- he’s just trying to get better. If I wait a little longer, he’s going to get better.”

“Y/n..” Benedict whispered sadly and you ran to him hoping to stop him. “You can’t wait for him. You’re putting yourself in danger..” you shook your head, but Ben grabbed your shoulders and looked into your eyes, “he’s a grown man, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve pity or patience. Not after doing this. Nothing excuses this. Nothing.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lip quivering, but still you nodded.

“Can your mother take care of you?” Ben asked, piercing blue eyes still staring into your soul. There was no point in lying anymore, you knew.

“No.”

“Alright, then you’ll stay with me.” Ben declared, “You’ll stay with me until we can find someone from your family who can take care of you.” You looked up at him with shining eyes. Despite the uncomfortable situation you found yourself in, a genuine smile broke out on your face.

You hugged him, thanking him breathlessly. Ben and Tom made eye contact, and smiled gently at each other. Tom had cried silently at your interaction. The thought that someone would hurt someone he loved so dearly shattered his heart completely.

“Now,” Benedict said finally, “we need to drive you to the hospital.”

You agreed and while Tom drove, Ben was in the backseat on the phone with the police department. You just watched the beautiful neon lights shining in the pitch black night, snow illuminating the ground. People still littered the streets.

You knew it now. Your father didn’t deserve your waiting, and though it would take very long to finally live with and truly understand, it was worth it to start the fight. You truly owed it to the two jerks you worked with. What would you even do with out them?

#marvel #avengers #dr strange #dr strange x reader #dr. strange #dr. strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #stephen strange x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #avengers x reader #avengers cast x reader #marvel cast x reader #marvel x reader

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stellarboystyles · 4 years

Text

serendipity

ahhhh she’s finally done!! now i can rest my weary soul. thank you to my lover @bfharry for putting this lovely event together, and i’m sorry this late, i’m a mess.

7k pining, fluff and smut

friends to lovers college au // trigger warning - mentions of illness, family death and childhood trauma, mentions of alcohol use.

She was reaching as high as she could, desperately trying to get to the book on the shelf that was much too high for her to reach. She turns to Harry, who’s smirking down at her with crossed arms.

“Need a lift, sprout?”

She gives him a look of eloquence. “Please.”

She giggles as he dips down, wrapping his arms around her legs and lifting her up. Now, she’s happily at eye level with the desired shelf.

Her fingers skimming over the spines of all the hardbacks sitting comfortably on the wood surface. E...F...G...H...

“Found it!”

Once her eyes lock on the title, she pulls the book out as fast as she could.

“Okay, let me down.”

“Sure? Don’t like the view from up there? Know you’re not used to it-”

“No, now let me down before I bruise you like the peach that you are.”

“Ouch.” he snickered, setting you back down onto the ground beneath. “S’harsh.”

“Deserved it.” she teased before he sticks out his tongue in a playful response.

“What d’ya need the book for?”

“It’s for that analysis we have to do for poetry class.”

He blinks at her once, eyes widening slightly. “What analysis?”

She giggles at his expression. “You didn’t read your emails, did you?”

“Fuck!” he exclaims, voice slightly above a whisper, but it was enough to agitate the other students in the library who are trying to either study or get their own work done.

“Shhh!”

“Sorry, sorry.” he apologizes to the people around them before Y/N puts a hand on his bicep and he leans into her to hear her whispering words.

“You just have to pick a poetry book, analyze it, make a conclusion, all that stuff.”

“So it’s like an essay?”

“Kind of.” she follows Harry as he starts to examine the shelves for a book himself. “You know how Greene is, he’s super chill. He wants it to be more of a review, what you think of the book and the author.”

“So, like a review.”

She blinks at him. “That’s what I just said.”

“M’tired, gimme a break.” he sighs. “He never challenges us in that class.”

“I guess not.” she shrugs. “Easy grade, right?”

“Sounds like it.” he gives a casual nod. “When’s it due?”

“Tuesday.”

“Sweet.” he nods, eyes skimmed across the shelves before landing on a cornflower blue hardback. Harry chose books by their cover a lot. Not metaphorically, just literally.

“Ready?”

He nods again. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Once they’d both gotten their book signed out, they started down the path across the patch of grass, making their way to their next class that they had together.

“So you really didn’t check your phone all weekend?”

He shakes his head. “No, my phone was off ‘cos Gem was visiting over the weekend, remember?” he taps on the side of her head with one finger. “Helloooo, earth to Y/N, you were there.”

“Quit it!” she scolds, swatting his hand away. “Yeah, I think I remember her. She’s the least annoying Styles’ sibling, right?”

Harry unexpectedly clutches his chest, wincing in pain. “Ouch, ow!”

Panic rushed through her, the first thing popping into her mind was that he was having an asthma attack. “Haz, are you okay?” she drops her bag onto the ground so that she can help him. “You’re scaring me, do you need your inhaler?”

He leans over, eyes squeezed closed. One hand is resting on his knee, the other still grasping at his sternum.

“My ego...it hurts.”

As soon as the words registered, anger washed over her, jaw rippling before punching him in the bicep.

“You’re such a little shit.”

“Oi, tha’ hurt!” he laughs, which makes her even more angry, whisking her bag off the ground and walking away from him as quickly as possible.

He lets out a lighthearted sigh before starting to jog up to her. “C’mon, wait up.”

“Go away.” she grumbles, quickening the pace of her steps towards the building that their next class was in. Her hand was less than a foot away from reaching the door, about to push it open but she was no match for his longer legs as he jogged to catch up with her.

“Hey, hey.” he manages to get her hand in his grasp. She turns around in his grip, eyes fiery with vex.

“What.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” he frowns, moving so that he’s holding both of her hands in his as he stood in front of her. “Please? M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the brick wall behind her. “Yes you did.”

“Let me make it up to you?” he offers, resting his palm on the rough surface above her head.

“Whatever you want.”

The pounding heartbeat in her ears is deafening, but the prank that he’d just pulled wasn’t quickly forgotten.

“I’ll let you know when I think of something.” Pushing herself off the wall, she turns and pushes the door open to the classroom, leaving a sad Harry behind. He trudged along behind her, silently moping before sitting next to her. Not even a minute after they sat down, Harry was leaning over to her, trying to get her attention.

“Y/N, please.” he whines, laying his head on her shoulder. “M’sorry.”

The butterflies in her stomach were crumbling her resolve, and she lays her cheek on top of his curls. “It’s okay.” he can hear the smile in her quiet voice. He peers up at her, an endearing smile beaming back at her.

“Not mad at me anymore?” he clarifies, voice filled with hope.

“How long have we been best friends?” she laughs. “Y’know I can never stay mad at you.”

“We were babies, don’t you remember?” he snickers. “Like, actual babies.”

Neither of them really remember.

Harry and Y/N’s parents had been neighbors and friends for years before either of them were born, and when Harry was almost two, they’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl.

“Harry, look.” Anne coos to her son as he sits on her lap. “See the baby?”

He stops playing with his teddy, toddling over to the sound of his mummy’s voice and he’s so fascinated, probably because he’s never seen a real baby before.

“I hold her?”

The new mum says “of course” before she gives her baby to Anne, now holding her in Harry’s lap.

“I pet?”

He carefully lifts a chubby hand, places it on her tummy and pats gently at the pale lavender onesie.

“My sweet boy.” Anne kisses the top of his head, smoothing out his blonde bangs.

Harry leans down and pushes a soft kiss onto her cheek, and it’s safe to say both mums melt at the sight.

“They’ll be best friends for sure.”

He looks up at the baby’s mum. “She seepin’?”

She nods with a smile. “Yeah, she's sleepin’.”

He gives her another kiss on her cheek before speaking again, this time in a hushed voice.

“Night Night, baby.”

“Our mums are never gonna let us forget that day.” he groans, twisting open the cap of the drink in his hands.

“Or that you had a crush on me.”

He nearly chokes on his juice, making her split into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe I did.” he admits, leaning his elbows onto the desk. “So what?”

“You definitely did, remember when you kissed me?”

His cheeks heat up at her teasing, arms crossing on top of the desk before laying his head down in embarrassment. He cracks one eye open at her laughing. “y/nnnn.”

When Harry was five and Y/N was four, he asked if he could kiss her, at school.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world.” Harry tells her as his fingers draw in the dirt.

“That’s what my mummy and daddy tells me!” she cheers, and he may only be five years old but he knows that no other girl on the playground would happily sit in the dirt with him like she would. Her cheeks are resting against her hands and Harry thinks that they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen.

“Can we kiss now?”

She thinks for a moment before speaking.

“You can’t tell your mummy, because she might tell my mummy and we’ll be in trouble.”

“Won’t tell anyone, not even Niall.”

Her eyes go wide with a gasp. Niall was his best friend, he must really mean business.

“Really?”

“Promise.” he holds out his pinky for her to squeeze.

Unfortunately for them, while Y/N was over next door at Harry’s for a playdate Anne caught them kissing in the back garden and they were both forced into the friend zone. Y/N was super sad, and Harry didn’t like that one bit, so he tried to make her feel better.

“Don’t cry, someday when we’re grown ups we can kiss and hold hands anytime we want! We can be best friends ‘til then, okay?”

“The start of an epic friendship.” he reminisces, flashing her a wink.

“Good times and bad.” she nods, and the mood drifts to sad silence.

“We’ve really been there through everything, huh?” he acknowledges, meeting her gaze.

When Harry was twelve and Y/N was eleven, Harry’s dad left. Left his family with nothing and Harry was devastated.

“How could he? This isn’t fair to any of you.”

Y/N was standing in Anne’s kitchen listening to her painstakingly tell her what had just happened. He’d left while Anne was working and Gemma and Harry were at school, leaving the remainder of the family devastated.

“I know darling, but we’ll get through this. I’m worried about Harry, he ran off. He was so upset. Do you know where he could be?”

“I’ll find him.”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Her mind and legs worked together to pedal faster than she ever had before through the park behind their street. As soon as she crosses the bridge she sees him. He’s sitting under their favorite oak tree, knees dew up to his chest.

“Harry!”

She throws her bike down and sprints to him, falling next to him.

He looks up, releases the grip on his hair and reaches out, grasping her hands and she quickly pulls him into a hug and she’d never held anyone so tight in her entire life. Her own hot tears started to fall from her face at the sound of his heartbreaking cries and she doesn’t know how long they stayed there like that, slowly moving her fingers through his curls as she held him. He let out a whimper when she forced his face out of her neck, cradling his cheeks in her hands. He looked so defeated and she had to use every ounce of strength in her body not to sit there and cuddle him against this tree all night. His mum and sister needed him, and he needed them. Her fingers brushed across his wet cheeks and he leaned into her touch as she repeated the action.

“I’m so sorry, Haz.” another sob escapes him at her words. “You don’t have to talk about it. You can cry, scream and yell, whatever you want...but we gotta get home., it’s getting dark.”

“Don’t wanna go back there.” he shakes his head and tightens his hold on your shirt.

“H, your mum and sister need you, and you need them.”

“I need you.”

Y/N’s heart flutters and she’s not sure why, but she’s sure Harry can feel it because he’s still fisting her shirt.

“I’ll stay the night at yours, my mum won’t care.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’ll get over it.”

Understandably, of course her father wasn’t too fond of the idea of his daughter sleeping over at her best friend’s house, because he was a boy. But she reassured her dad countless times that “boys were gross” so he begrudgingly allowed it.

They’d cuddled countless times, that night was no different. She held him, stroking his hair some more as they talked. The mood is lightened after awhile. Even though the healing process hasn’t even really begun yet. Harry was gonna be okay, because he had Y/N.

“Gemma gets so jealous because she can’t have boys in her room.” he jokes, making her giggle.

“She’s also fifteen and has a boyfriend.” she reasons. “We’re just best friends.”

“True.”

Comfortable silence engulfed Harry’s room for a few moments, the vibe was mellow from each other’s presence before Y/N spoke again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” her voice was barely above a whisper, brushing the stray hairs away from his forehead.

“You don’t know that.” he whispers, peering up at her. The moonlight shining through the window is enough to illuminate their faces while they talk.

“Yeah I do.” she argues softly. “It’s bad right now, but it’ll be okay someday. Promise.”

When Y/N was seventeen, her world came crashing down.

“Harry, can you come down please?”

He quickly put down his phone, shoving it into his pocket when he heard the urgency in his mum’s voice coming from downstairs. Ever since his dad left he’d grown closer to his mum and sister, more protective.

He rushes downstairs, finding her in the kitchen.

“Mum? What's wrong?”

“I need you to go next door and check on Y/N, alright?”

His face fills with confusion and fear but Anne doesn’t give him any time to respond.

“I just got off the phone with Rachelle, she and Will had gone out to dinner and he started to have some terrible pain. They’re at the hospital now, they did some tests…they found something and they think it might be cancer.”

Harry’s face falls.

“Oh God, Mum—”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“Does she know? She had to work after school today, does she know?”

“Her mum said she was going to call her once she’d gotten home from work.”

“She gets off at eight thirty,” he pulls out his phone and sees that it’s nine fifteen. “She should be home by now.” He briskly walks over to the window that faces Y/N’s house.

“Her car’s there.” he reveals. “M’goin’ over there. I’ll be back.”

She agrees and without another word Harry’s at her front door.

Locked.

“Shit, shit, shit.” he mutters to himself before remembering the spare key under the flower pot by the door. Once it’s retrieved, his trembling hands fumble with the piece of metal before successfully unlocking the door and pushing it open. As soon as he’s inside, he hears muffled crying from upstairs and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s rushing upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Normally he would never just walk in her room uninvited, but when he saw the white wooden door decorated with silver stars all over, he wasn’t going to stop until he got to her. As soon as he pushes her bedroom door open, the sight alone is enough to make him cry. He watches her yank her desk chair out, screaming as she throws it as hard as she could across the floor.

“Y/N!”

He rushes to her, pulling her in the most protective hug he’s ever given. Her arms retreated to frightfully gripping the front of his shirt, knees buckling. They ended up crumpled on the floor, backs against the wall as he held her. Her gut wrenching cries were hushed by Harry’s embrace.

“Hey, hey—shhh. M’here, look at me, okay? Deep breaths, breathe with me, okay?”

“I can’t, it’s too much. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.” her cries made his heart ache, all he wanted to do was make it better, but he just couldn’t.

Needless to say, they’ve been there for each other through everything. Y/N’s dad passed away later that year, leaving everyone devastated. Harry waited a year to go to college to be there for Y/N and her mum.

“Are you excited for NYU?”

She tried to sound happy for him, but her voice was laced with sadness. His back was facing her so she couldn’t see his face as he glanced at the sunset out her window.

“M’not going.” he admits, voice small and her jaw goes slack.

“What? What d’you mean you’re not going?”

“Can’t leave you two here like this.” he turns around and tears are brimming his waterline. “Already talked it over with mum, and the bakery’s not really willin’ t’let me go yet.”

“Harry.” she warns.

“Hey,” it’s alright.” he pulls her into a protective hug. “We’ll get everything sorted out, okay? It’ll be nice to take a year off from school anyway.”

His lighthearted tone isn’t enough to soothe her anxiety. “You don’t have to put your life on hold for me.”

“I’m not.” he promises. “We’ve been there for each other through everything, yeah?” he pulls away slightly, giving her a warm smile. “That doesn’t just stop because we aren’t kids anymore.”

“We make a good team.”

Her words warm his heart and he turns to her, nodding with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, we do, don’t we?”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Her.

Admire her.

Tell her how the crinkles in her eyes are like crescent moons, glowing when she smiles.

Watch how she giggles at your jokes that aren’t funny, and how coy she gets when you’re sweet with her.

She couldn’t help but get lost in books like this. Somehow they managed to capture everything she’s ever been through, and everything she’s struggling with now. It was torture, really, being in love with her best friend, seeing him everyday, hiding her feelings from him in fear of their friendship being ruined forever. She couldn’t even fathom if that horror were to become her reality, she surely wouldn��t survive the heartbreak.

Touch her.

Tell her that the stretch marks that paint her skin are magnificent, and that her body is just one dazzling part of who she is.

Snuggle her with tender touches and soft fingertips, love on every curve of her body.

She found herself daydreaming at times like this—the midday sun beaming down on her through the window of the library as she sat in one of the lounge chairs, reading one of her favorite poetry books. She would think about how Harry would touch her if she were his. How he would caress her skin, what his lips could do, where his hands would go.

Adore her.

Cherish her.

Her reading was quickly interrupted, her vision obstructed by a pair of hands covering her eyes followed by a familiar voice.

“Guess who.”

“Uh...Bigfoot?”

“Heeeey.” he protests, moving to sit in the lounge chair next to hers. “S’mean.”

She giggles at his pouting, squeezing one of his cheeks. “Poor baby.”

“Ouch.” he brought his hand up to his face to rub the sore skin. “Like beatin’ up on me, do yeh?”

“Just a little.” she winks.

“Yeah, yeah.” he playfully rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the book in his best friend’s hands. “Whatcha readin’?”

Her heartbeat quickened as she realised that she had been caught, swiftly shutting the book and tucking it into her bag. “Nothing.”

“Nooo, lemme see!”

He didn’t give her another chance to respond, knowing her all too well. She shied away from his words, cheeks splashing with pink.

“C’mon, pleeease?” he frowns, nudging her arm with his elbow. He notices her apprehension, not wanting to push her.

“S’just me.”

His voice is softer, giving her a fluttering feeling as he leans in closer. “Y’trust me, right?”

The close proximity made her heart thump in her chest. She gives him a slight nod before quietly replying. “Yeah.”

He gently bites down on his lower lip, his eyes flickering from her eyes, down to her lips.

Were they going to kiss?

“Why won’t you tell me what you were readin’?” he quirks with a small smile, tilting his head slightly. You can see the wheels turning. “S’it naughty?”

“No!” she gives him a look, as if to say stooooop, Haz.

He chuckles at her nervousness, patiently waiting as she keeps fumbling over her words, avoiding his captivating eyes. “No...no, no, it’s a...it’s just a book.”

“Obviously.” he blinks. “What kind of book.”

“Just poetry.” she mumbles, hoping he would drop the subject quickly.

“S’it for your poetry analysis thing? What kind of—”

“Harryyyyy.” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.

“M’not doin’ anything! Can’t I be interested in what you’re readin’?” he defends, resting his cheek in his hand, elbow leaning on the arm of the chair.

“M’only teasing.” he swipes his fingers across her heated cheeks as he speaks softly to her. “You’re bein’ so shy.”

It’s so adorable, he thinks to himself.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” he reassures. “M’starving. Did you still wanna go to lunch?”

She perked up at his question, the book in her bag eventually forgotten, just as she wished. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

“Can we get—”

“Chinese?” his face lights up. “Please please please?”

“We had that last weekend.”

“So? S’the best food ever, and since when do you turn down chinese food?” he rests his head on the table. “I’ll help you with French Lit.”

“Compelling argument, I didn’t know you were taking a debate class.”

“So funny.” he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, please?”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

“I love chow mein so much.”

Y/N’s words barely register in his ears, let alone his brain as he admired the sight of her, eyes closed in bliss as she slurps another noodle.

She’s just so fucking cute.

“I love you so much.”

“What?”

He’s sure his heart had just dropped into his stomach and his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud!

“Didn’t say anything.” he mumbles, mentally cursing himself after feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks. He avoids her gaze as he shoves another spoonful of hot and sour soup into his mouth.

“So how’s your story for creative writing going?” she wonders, twirling some noodles with her fork, because no, she didn’t know how to use chopsticks, and yes, Harry never missed an opportunity to tease her about it.

“Awful.” he pouts, to which she mirrors his expression.

“You stuck?”

“Very.” he groans. “Just can’t seem to get the words out, y’know?”

“I’ve been there.” she nods. “Do you want some help?”

“Please.” he begged, giving her puppy eyes. “S’due next friday, been workin’ on it every night and still can’t get a single word out.”

“I think you just need to take a break, babes.” she offers. “Let’s have a sleepover this weekend and I’ll help you.”

He gives a sigh of relief, making her laugh. “You’re a gem. What would I do without you?”

“Your life would definitely be less exciting.” she notes, taking another bite.

He was silent for a moment, probably thinking of a comeba—

“At least I know how to use chopsticks.”

“You won’t teach me!” she pouts at his teasing. “Quit being mean.”

“Want me to teach you?” he perks, peering up at her.

“Yes.” she lets out a breathless giggle while nodding.

He playfully huffs, slightly rolling his eyes as he moves to sit behind her on her bed.

“Okay, so you hold them like this…”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Friday, October 12

Dear Diary,

I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him. I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend? Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his. How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much. Sometimes I feel like I should just tell him, bite the bullet, rip off the band aid and hope to God that our friendship isn’t ruined forever. In a perfect world,

Y/N drops her pen at the vibration of her phone.

Harry is calling…

“Hello?”

“We’ve known each other for how long and you still answer with hello?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you having a bad day or are you just making fun of me for shits and giggles?”

“Lil bit of both, yeah?” she can hear the cheekiness in his voice. “We still havin’ a sleepover this weekend? Might have to do it at yours, Niall’s havin’ a party and I doubt we’ll get anything done.”

She could hear the sheepish tone in his voice. “Oh no, if you wanna be at the party we can totally reschedule.” she offers.

Harry scrunches up his nose. “Need to get this paper done, m’never gonna finish it with all the noise.” he’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Besides, I’d rather spend the weekend with you.”

She feels her heart flutter at his admission, cheeks tingling with heat.

“ Okay...can you bring some snacks?”

There were no two humans on earth that loved fruit more than Harry and Y/N. so around fifteen minutes later, when Harry showed up to Y/N’s door with two smoothies, she melted like sugar.

“Berry for you.” he hands you the icy purple smoothie in his left hand. “Strawberry banana for me.”

“Awh, thank you!” she gently pinches one of his cheeks. “You’re so sweet.”

“Oi, worse than my mum, aren’t you?” he rubs at the newly pink cheek.

“No.” she defends. “C’mon, I’ll help you with your story so you don’t drag it out all weekend.”

“I resent that.” he mutters, sitting beside her on her bed as he flips open his laptop.

“Do you have an idea of what you wanna write?”

“I have a little bit finished, now, about five thousand words. Wanna have a look?”

Y/N reads it over and it’s nothing short of a masterpiece so far. How can he be so pretty and talented at the same time?

“This is beautiful,” she gapes, turning to look up at him. “This is so good, H.”

“Oh, stop.” He sheepishly brushes off her praise. “Don’t think it’s bad so far, just need to come up with a conflict.”

“Just figure out what breaks your characters, what makes them the most vulnerable, what would completely crush them?”

“Losing each other.”

“More specific?” she tries, staring at the screen in front of her. “It’ll help with the details.”

“Rory’s afraid to tell Daisy that he’s in love with her.” he says. “He’s afraid that, if she finds out, it’ll ruin their friendship.”

Y/N’s lungs felt empty, like all the air had been sucked out by Harry’s words.

“Okay, um,” she gulps, trying to collect her thoughts. “So...write about that, and see where the story takes you.”

Three hours later

“Can we take a break?” he groans, laying back on the pillows of her bed. “M’starving.”

“Me too.” she pouts, fiddling with her hands. “Whatcha hungry for?”

“Mmm,” Harry thinks for a few moments before speaking up. “A veggie grill just opened up downtown, we should go there!”

“You’re making me crave nachos.”

“You always crave nachos.”

“Why do you always have to call me out?” she whines, giving him a bashful glance.

“S’fun, innit?” he smirks, nudging her shoulder with his bicep.

“No.” she giggles, lying down next to him. “I’m gonna go get a shower then we can go.”

“Okay.”

An endearing smile adorned his face as she snuggled slightly into the soft pillows. Her eyes leisurely blink at him, falling closed after a few seconds.

“Sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

“Thought you wanted a shower?” he hummed. Although, he wouldn’t mind staying here all night. “You can stay here, I’ll go pick up some food.”

“No, it’s okay.” she yawns, pushing herself up off the bed. “I’ll be quick.”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Harry gets bored easily, although his best friends room was much more lovely than his. He thinks his room is pretty basic; but Y/N’s room was much more charming. The walls were painted a pale ivory, decorated with fairy lights above her bed, which was dressed with a crisp white comforter and matching pillows. The knitted plum blanket that Harry had gotten her ages ago for Christmas was at the end of her bed. He vividly remembers when he had given it to her.

Her eyes were sparkling with joy as she pulled the blanket out of the box.

“Your mum helped me make it.” he mentions with a sheepish smile. “She was so patient, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

“It’s beautiful.” she beams, pulling it close to her heart before looking up at him as they sat on the floor of Harry’s living room. “I love it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but he feels melancholic energy surrounding him. He keeps telling himself that he didn’t have a reason to be sad, because they weren’t together...but all he wanted was for her to be his. She was so cute, beanie snug on her head under the glow of the Christmas tree.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

To which she nods. “Of course.”

“Do you think,” his lips are pressed together in thought for a moment. “Do you think that fate is real?”

“Like kismet?” she cocks her head with a smile and he nods, breaking into a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, like kismet.”

“I think,” she takes a moment, fumbling with her hands before looking up at him. “Yeah, I think it’s real.”

Ten thousand words. Harry has to write ten thousand words by next Friday and he doesn’t have a single word typed out. Creative writing was supposed to be fun, and he had to write a romance fiction piece? Harry didn’t exactly thrive when it came to love. In fact, his love life was bone dry, to put it lightly. Other girls were...boring, compared to Y/N. Harry was charming and romantic and sweet and loving—but he didn’t want some random girl, he wanted Y/N to be his girl. Pining over her was his full time job, always has been.

He walks over to her desk, admiring the pictures that graced the wall just above. One of the photos that catches his eye is Y/N, probably about three or four, and her dad is reading her a bedtime story, her mum most likely being the one taking the photo. Sorrow washes over him, because it never gets easier, does it?

His eyes float to a few photos of Harry and Y/N laying next to each other on their friend Jess’s parents house on the terrace. It was the first time they’d ever gotten drunk and they were trashed. The first photo is them attempting to sit up for a picture.

“You guys are so drunk.”

“M’not drunk.” Harry glances at Millie and Jess, who were behind the camera. “M’Harry! Who’s drunk?”

Harry’s rebuttal left both of them bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Haz, Jess wants a picture of us, pleeeeaaaase?”

Harry holds himself up by leaning back with one hand on the ground, the other arm slung around Y/N’s shoulder. He then turns to nuzzle his nose into her hair.

“Y’so pretty.” he murmurs drunkenly into her ear.

“Shut up, you’re drunk.”

“M’not, m’serious.”

The last one from that night was them cuddling on the sofa at the end of their night, Harry’s face nuzzled into her shoulder as they slept soundly well into the afternoon.

His fingertips brushed across his favorite photo of them. They were working together at the bakery, and Harry had just traced his flour dipped fingertips in a line across Y/N’s cheek before she retaliated by sweeping some icing across the bridge of his nose. He grins from ear to ear at the memory.

“Hey Y/N, guess what?”

She turned around to face him when he abruptly drew a line with his flour dipped fingertips across her cheek.

Her jaw went slack at his bold action before icing was swiped across the bridge of his nose.

“Now we’re even.” that is, until she flicks some of the remaining blue icing from her fingers onto his face.

“Aw, c’mon!” he wipes his face with his apron before narrowing his eyes. “Really?”

“You started it.” she pointed out and Harry gave her a shrug.

“I am so gonna get you back the next time we bake at my house.”

His eyes fall down to her desk, and he promises he didn’t mean to see it. It was his name, in her handwriting, written in purple gel pen inside an open book. Was it a journal?

Friday, October 12

Dear Diary,

Shit.

He looked away for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. Should he read it? No, but he couldn’t help himself.

I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him.

Him? Who’s she talking about? Does she like someone? The empty feeling in his chest isn’t a good feeling by any means.

I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend?

All the color drains from Harry’s face.

“Is she talking about me?” he murmurs.

Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his.

His heart flutters at the mention of his name, aching at the next line.

How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much.

He felt like he was going to cry. How could this girl not know how much of a sucker he is for her? His heart thumped inside his chest and he could feel the heat radiating off his flushed cheeks.

Okay, don’t panic. Just calm down, don’t freak out.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he had just read whilst trying to decide what to do. Does he just tell her? Show her the page? No, she’ll be so angry that he read her diary, who does that?

In that moment, he chooses to do the only thing that makes sense.

He listens to his heart.

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

She’d just hopped out of the shower when she heard a knock on her bathroom door.

“Hey, s’just me.” Harry’s voice clarifies through the wood. “Already ordered some food, m’gonna go and pick it up, I’ll be back.”

“I can go with you if you want-”

“No, s’okay! Be back in fifteen.”

And he’s gone.

After exiting her bathroom, she changes into some comfy clothes before deciding to read something from her book collection until Harry gets back. WHen she turns to go over to her bookshelves, she sees it.

A familiar lavender book, her diary, was lying open on her desk, and her heart sinks. Had he read what she’d written earlier? That must be why he was in such a hurry to leave! She probably scared him off. Y/N’s heart was racing as she stepped closer and realised that the page the diary was open to wasn’t written in her handwriting.

It was Harry’s handwriting.

Hi lovie, it’s Harry.

I was too nervous to tell you this to your face, so I’m gonna write out my feelings.

You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I absolutely adore everything about you.

I love how you talk in your sleep, and yes, you do talk in your sleep. I know how much you love to snuggle when you’re sleepy or sad or you just want a cuddle...and how you still sleep with a night light on like when we were small. You always tell me it’s so you can see in case you need to get up and have a wee in the middle of the night, but I know it’s because you’re still scared of the dark.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was she dreaming?

I love how you crinkle your nose when you laugh, and how your smile glows like moonlight and how you play with your hands when you don’t know what to say. I love your love for books, and how much better your taste in music is than me. I love how you love to snuggle, especially when you’re...inebriated.

She giggles silently to herself, because he was so right. Not that he was any better.

I could go on forever, but I don’t wanna get caught writing this.

I am so in love with you, Y/N.

Love, H. x

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. Her heart was warm, but she was so nervous. What does this mean for them? How will this affect their friendship? Hundreds of questions run through her brain until she hears a knock on the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” she whispers. “Okay, just... be chill, please be chill.”

Trying to calm herself down in a matter of seconds was pointless. Walking over to the door, she took a deep breath in before opening the door.

“Hi.” he blinks at her, letting out a light laugh before setting down the two paper bags in his hands. “M’back. They didn’t have the-”

“I read it.”

He avoids her gaze and he feels frozen by her words, digging his vans into the carpet.

“Harry.” she breathes. “Say something.”

His eyes flicker to meet hers, taking a step forward.

“I...I love you.”

Y/N feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest, like she just came for air after being kept under water for too long.

“If this makes things weird, I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, but I love you to pieces and I-”

“I love you too.”

His smile is pure joy before he takes her hand in his, pulling her closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” he begs, almost breathless. “Please.”

She nods, and he cradles her cheeks in his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

His lips were so soft, moving with hers like they were made for each other.

Harry was sitting on the edge of her bed, her thighs straddling his hips and she sat across his lap. Her hands were in his hair, the fluttery tendrils twirled around her fingers. His hands are settled on her waist, slowly moving to her thighs.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs the serious question against her lips and she nods quickly. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” he breathes. “M’just checkin’.”

“It’s okay.” she laughs breathlessly against his lips. “Everything's okay.”

Reluctantly, he pulls back slightly to look at her, searching for any sort of doubt, but there was none.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

His voice is cautious. “M’not goin’ anywhere, ever. Don’t have to rush anything.”

“Just go with the flow, H.” she murmurs, sliding her hands up his clothed biceps.

“Sorry, who are you?” he raises his eyebrows, a baffled expression on his face. “Since when do you ever go with the flow?”

“A lot of things have changed today.” she confesses, hands resting on his shoulders. “Why not?”

They’d always felt so safe with each other, so now was no different.

They both dived back into the kiss. Harry’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip, testing the waters before lips and tongue worked together to deepen the kiss.

“Wanna ride my thigh?” he wonders, mumbling against her lips. “Don’t have to if-”

“Yeah. yes.” she gulps, moving to slide her shorts down while he shuffles out of his jeans. Once they were both without pants, they didn’t waste anymore time.

“C’mere, darlin’.” he flicked his fingers, encouraging her back onto his lap.

“Just feel my touch.”

The tone of his voice was unbelievably hot, raspy and low as their lips continuously brushed. His hands grip her hips, guiding her movements.

“Feel good?” he suckles on her bottom lip, drawing a whimper past her lips. She’s rocking against his bare thigh, coarse hair stimulating her even closer to the edge.

“Feels so good, Harry.”

Her moans are nothing short of melodic, chasing her orgasm through the lace. He pushes her t-shirt up, kisses are decorated down her neck until his mouth is on one of her breasts. She tilts her head back at the suckling sensation with another moan, and it’s so fucking intoxicating to Harry. His tongue flicks her nipple a few more times before lifting his head.

“Like that?” he hums, moving to cup her breasts. She nods and his thumbs start to tweak her nipples and she arches her back at the feeling.

“Harry.” she whimpers, gripping the material of his shirt in her fists. “Please.”

“Whatcha need, tell me darlin’.”

“M’gonna come, m’gonna come.”

He gives a thick moan, hands moving to hold her backside. “Know you are. C’mon angel, you can let go.”

His sweet words coax her through her orgasm as she’s coming down, and she feels like she’s floating.

“Did you like that?”

“Mhm.” she nods, her eyes fluttering closed as Harry’s hand brushes some baby hairs off her forehead. “Wanna keep going.”

“Jeez, at least let me take you out to dinner first.”

#boyfriendathon #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut

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custardcrazy · 3 years

Text

Newt Scamander x Reader: I’ll Be Seeing You (Part 1)

A/N: i’ve been working on this lol and writing for newt makes me stupidly happy.. lol

anyhow, here’s part 1 of this new series about our favorite magizoologist !!

warnings: angst (next part will have fluff dw), parents fighting, bullying, a tad bit of abuse from the father. do not read this if any of that stuff triggers you.

part 2

------

Poppy

Since you were a child, you had possessed the ability to connect with plants on a near-spiritual level- and to heal them, as well. Even for a kid born into a magical family (you were a pureblood), this was unusual.

It was an ability that was pretty much laughed at by anyone you told.

"That's ridiculous! Stop lying!" said some. "That'll be useless in combat," sneered others.

Your mother was very kind, but could do little to nothing to stop people from ridiculing the "plant-talking freak". All she really did was provide you with temporary comfort and a sense of safety from the outside world that was less than welcoming. Your father, close-minded as he was, didn't directly yell at you, but you could tell from his expressions that he was disappointed.

When you were younger, you were very lonely. It was really stupid how people would distance themselves from you, thinking that they'd catch a disease or something if they got too close. And all of this manifested itself into you being maybe a bit too friendly for some people.. because all you wanted was a real friend.

One warm summer day when you were about seven, you were playing in the local park. Your mother was sitting on a bench nearby, reading a book. Your father was busy at work, as usual.

With a small sigh, you had gotten up from the patch of flowers you were in, and walked over to an area of trees to look around.

Whenever there was natural life around you, you had discovered that it was present as a dull hum in your mind and ears. At first it had been annoying, but by now you had grown used to the feeling. Welcomed it, even.

As you peeked around a tall oak, you caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar kid squatted over the ground. They seemed to be poking at some pink, mushroom-like things.

You drew a bit closer, trying to get a better look at them.

But as you took a step forward, you stepped on a stick, and it broke in half, causing the kid to jump and nearly fall over backwards.

He (now you were sure it was a he) looked at you, with widened eyes. He looked absolutely petrified!

"Oh- I'm so sorry for scaring you!" you said quickly, holding up your hands.

"I-I-it's fine," the boy stuttered, turning around to face the mushroom things again with a slightly flushed face.

You tilted your head to the side slightly. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes-" he answered, looking extremely reluctant to continue the conversation. But being the young child you were, you didn't recognize that at all.

"I'm glad that somebody else my age is in the park!" you interrupted, a smile beginning to form on your face. "What's your name?"

"Er.. Newton.. but y-you can call me Newt, I guess." Newt gave a short sideways glance to you as you crouched down next to him.

"Oh, that's a nice name! I'm (Y/N)!" You stuck out a hand for him to shake.

He merely looked at your hand, then returned his attention back to the pink fungi things.

"I don't.. do.. handshakes."

You shrugged, pulling back your hand. "Alright then."

Pausing, you focused your attention hard on the pink things, wishing to communicate with them. But, strangely enough, you didn't sense anything from them- so even though they did look like plants, they weren't, you concluded.

"What are those mushrooms called? They're not plants, are they?" you said, now curious to what these beings were.

Newt looked a mix of surprised and impressed, turning his gaze fully at you. "H-how.. ho-how did you know that? It's nearly im-impossible to tell between-"

With a slight hesitation, you just grinned. "I know a few things about plants, I suppose."

Over the next year or so, you grew closer to your new friend bit by bit. You learned that he was interested in magical creatures. That he was studying the mushroom things- Horklumps, he said they were called- to learn how they worked. Apparently he had some back in his home!

School did start up again eventually, but that didn't stop you from visiting the park nearly every day, looking forward to the afternoons spent with him playing around in the woods. Newt had become the closest and best friend that you'd ever had.

You still weren't sure if he'd react kindly if you told him about your freakish powers, though.. and you didn't want to lose him.

One evening, when you were flipping through one of your favorite books, you heard yelling from downstairs.

Sneaking over to the stairs, you peeked into the living room, where your mother and father were having a heated argument. They hadn't been getting along well as of late, with your dad growing more and more irritated at work and coming home in a terrible mood all the time, having shouting matches with your increasingly quiet mum over trivial things. (He did most of the shouting.)

...But it wasn't like they got along very well in the first place, anyway.

"WELL I DON'T CARE! JUST CLEAN THE DAMN PLATES BY THE TIME THAT IT'S TIME FOR SUPPER!" roared your father, red-faced in his anger.

Your mother looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Please, just be patient! It'll only take a minute-"

"A minute!? Woman, GET ON WITH IT!"

She shushed him. "Please, think of our child, you'll frighten-"

"Our child? I never asked for that plant-whispering freak!"

Tears began to blur your vision.

But just before you ran upstairs, you saw your mom suddenly clench her first, hissing words at your father that you couldn't hear before pulling out her wand.

Not wanting to watch any longer, you hurried upstairs, running into your room and slamming the door behind you.

Turns out your parents split up shortly after that.

The feeling was numbing, really. You didn't feel sad. You didn't feel angry. You didn't feel happy, either.

And when you learned that you were going to move to America to live with your mother's sister, you just slowly nodded and packed up your things.

The day before your departure from your home, you visited the park for possibly the last time. The last time you'd see your dearest and only friend.

You found Newt easily, and he gave you a crooked grin. "Hello."

"..Hey," you said, looking and sounding as hollow as you felt.

He instantly looked concerned. "I-is anything the matter, (Y/N)?"

"No- well, yes." Sniffling, you nodded. "I'm.. I'm moving. I'm moving, Newt."

"Wait- moving to wh-where?" Standing up from the ground, Newt walked a bit closer.

"To.. to.."

You felt tears threatening to spill over your cheeks, and couldn't find the correct words to tell him that this was maybe the last time you'd see each other.

"(Y/N), please, ju-just tell me. I-I'm- we're friends, right? You can trust me-"

"LOOK, I'm moving to America- and I'm pretty sure I'm not coming back!"

If this was a normal situation, you would've laughed at the expression of pure shock on Newt's face.

But this time, you just wanted to cry and cry and cry.

"Th-this.. th-this isn't a joke, r-right..?" His pitiful expression showed that he was wishing for this to not be true. That it was just a nightmare. And partly, it was a nightmare.

"I-it.. it.. it really.. isn't." You sniffled again, trying and failing to wipe away your tears. "I.. I do-don't want to leave, but t-there's really no other choice..,"

"So.. I'll never see you.. again..?"

You could tell that he was struggling not to cry. You could see the glimmering in his eyes.

With a sob, you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight.

He froze momentarily, but slowly hugged you back, tears slipping down his face.

"(Y/N)!"

You heard your mother's call in the distance, pulling back from Newt.

"(Y/N), we need to get going!"

"Look, I- I'll miss you," you said hurriedly, letting go of him and turning away. "Goodbye."

Suddenly, a gentle hand grasped your wrist.

You looked back, and found something being pressed into your hand. Quickly bringing it up to look at it, you found a smile making its way into your expression.

It was a bit rough, but nonetheless charming. A little copper moon charm threaded onto a rope bracelet that was a bit big for your wrist.

"..T-thank you," you said.

"(Y/N), this is the last time I'm going to yell!"

Newt smiled back at you. "Be careful. I'll miss you too."

And you turned around for the last time, running off and not looking back.

#newt scamander #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #x reader #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander x you #newt scamander x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #angst #there will be a part two

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

love in a time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno}

one shot #3 - 4am

summary: you’re used to it just being you & your kid, and you’re even more used to taking on the world on your own when it gets hard - so, it’s difficult to let marcus in, even when he wants to help {series masterlist}

warnings: parenting themes, very brief mentions of loss, probably the nearest thing you’ll ever get to angst in this series and it’s not even angst

sorry about the huge gaps between the one shots!! life is v hectic at the moment and i am running around like a headless chicken 24/7. what a vibe. enjoy :)

- jazz xx

Things had been going smoothly - too smoothly.

That meant it was only a matter of time before your mini demon child decided to kick up a fuss and do something completely, irretrievably wild. He’d done it before - there had been the fire incident, the shaving the dog incident, the you can’t re-enact the final scene from Revenge of the Sith with pencils incident. You’d taken them all in your stride and tried to learn from them; what else could you do, other than roll with the punches in life? Nobody was born knowing how to parent and you had to constantly remind yourself that.

But this? This was fucking exhausting. Jack’s sudden refusal to sleep was absolutely kicking the life out of you. And even though he seemed to enjoy living in the Moreno house, you couldn’t help but feel your big move had been something to do with it. You were plagued with guilt at the thought of ripping him away from his childhood home, despite the fact he’d been excited to live with Marcus and Missy. You knew it was all in your head but still, his sudden misbehaviour was really bad for your guilty conscience. It was one thing having your parenting questioned by the minivan mums on the playground but something else entirely when it came from your own mind.

‘Jack, please!’ You reached out for him, pulling him off his bed and forcing him to lay down. ‘It is 4am. Go to sleep!’

‘No!’ He thwacked your arms away. ‘I don’t want to!’

This was the fifth night in the row that he had refused to sleep. Whether it was loudly banging on the walls or playing Life Is a Highway at full volume from his iPad, the little human had taken it upon himself to deprive the entire family of sleep. Normally, you could have handled it (just about, at least) - but work had been beyond busy and with the loss of an elderly family member, everything was beginning to pile up on your shoulders.

‘I cannot do this tonight!’ You tried to suppress your frustration. ‘Jack, please.’

You didn’t want to cry. They weren’t even tears of sadness, more tears of frustration. Frustration that you couldn’t seem to get through to your own kid, and frustration that he wouldn’t listen. You were sleep deprived as fuck and it was out of your control. The temptation to wave your white flag and let Jack have what he wanted was almost overwhelming.

‘I don’t want to sleep!’ He yelled. ‘I don’t have to do as you say!’

‘Fine!’ You flapped your hands in the air. ‘I’m done, Jack. Do whatever the hell you want.’

Tossing the stormtrooper you were holding to the floor, you turned your back and stalked out the room, shutting it behind you.

Your back hit the wood with a thud as you slid down it, the formidable pressure on your shoulders finally prolapsing. You rested your head in your hands, letting out a silent cry. Fuck, you hadn’t cried in ages. Most of the time, you were immune to the absolute craziness that came with your child, but you just needed a break. It had just been you and him for so long that you were used to handling it all on your own and you hadn’t had a day off since he was born. Even when his dad had been in the picture, you’d still practically been a single parent. Doing it on your own was all you ever knew.

You hadn’t even realised that Marcus had come to sit beside you; not until you felt a warm pair of hands on your shoulders, and the softness of his pyjama shirt against you. For a man who had been losing as much sleep as you and running a superhero team, he was surprisingly with it. His ability to hold his shit together was astounding.

‘I am so sorry.’ You murmured. ‘His behaviour has been bad but not this bad.’

‘You don’t have to apologise, sweetheart.’ He replied. ‘Kids are stubborn as hell.’

‘It’s not even that.’ You sniffed. ‘It’s just that he won’t listen. And I’m the one person he should fucking listen to.’

‘You don’t have to have the solution to everything.’ Marcus reminded you. He gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

‘What if it’s my fault?’ You leant further against his side. ‘What if me uprooting him from the apartment messed him up?’

‘No decision as a parent is easy.’ He said. ‘Especially not ones like that, but you did what’s best for you and him and that’s all you can do. It’s a lot of change for you both but it was the right choice, I promise you.’

‘Maybe.’ You murmured. ‘It’s just...I’ve always been his only parent. Like I am single-handedly responsible for the way he turns out and I do not want to accidentally screw up.’

Marcus softly chuckled. ‘It’s gonna take a lot more than you moving house for him to be a screw up - besides, I’m here to help now too.’

You peered up at him. ‘You don’t have to deal with his shit.’

‘Maybe I want to.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to.’

He thinned his eyes at you. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

Marcus moved his arms from you, shuffling around so that you were facing each other. He had a way of holding your gaze that nobody else quite managed; even his brown eyes were tired from exhaustion, he still managed to look right into your fucking soul. Maybe it was part of his job, or maybe he just saw through your bullshit.

‘Please don’t shut me out.’

You let out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to get involved with my kid’s crazy shit. You had a peaceful life before this and-’

‘- I’m not gonna do what his dad did.’ Marcus suddenly cut you off. You could only blink in surprise. ‘I know that’s not you’re saying but it is what you’re saying.’

You’d got got pretty good at your little juggling act over the last five years; it was like you had three balls - Jack, work and everything else the universe had to throw at you. And maybe you weren’t just juggling, but you were doing it on a unicycle. Sometimes it felt like you were going to lose your balance and drop everything, but you’d managed it this far. The idea that Marcus wanted to help you and actually, genuinely had your best interests at heart was an alien idea. You were used to doing everything on your own.

‘I’m sorry.’ You murmured. ‘We were let down and it’s gonna take time to heal. That’s on me.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Marcus took your hands in his. ‘We’re a family, okay? Nothing is ever going to change that now.’

You gave him a watery smile. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

He stood up, pulling you up with him.

The fact that not even Marcus and his unusual talents to get your child to behave were working was a testament to Jack’s rough patch. He was normally obedient as hell when it came to listening to him - probably because he was a superhero, you figured. Either way, you both just wanted to sleep.

Marcus slowly creaked open the door - the sounds of Jack jumping up and down on his bed had stopped, but the godforsaken song from Cars was still blaring in the background. You peered over his shoulder on your tiptoes, trying to get a view at what was going on. By some miracle, the child was now passed out in the middle of the floor. Five nights of no sleep had finally caught up with him, in the same way they were about to catch up with you.

You gently crept inside and tugged his iPad from his hands, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. If you moved him from the rug to the bed, you would have woken him; instead, you pulled his blanket from his bed and tucked it over him.

‘C’mon,’ you took Marcus’ hand as you exited the room. ‘Before we wake the sleeping dragon.’

He tossed an arm across your back, pulling you into his side as you walked down the hallway.

‘The only person who can wear that kid out is himself.’ He reminded you. ‘Maybe we just need another Jack.’

‘Please don’t give me nightmares.’

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagines #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal characters

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wouldpollyapprove · 4 years

Text

Damsel In Distress

Requested: Can I request 15 from the Angst list with Tommy please? She gets hurt at the betting ship by one of his enemy’s and tries to hide it. Love your Fics!

10 from fluff and 15&18 from angst pleaseee i love your writing

hi! firstly, i absolutely adore your writing! may I please request angst prompts #15 and #18? perhaps the reader being a shelby herself? but either way, I’d accept whatever you seem comfortable with! thank you

Requested by Anonymous & @casualcolorstarfish

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language, alcohol, violence

A/n: This is based off the episode in season one when the Lees attack the betting shop. It’s not word for word with what everyone said because I’m lazy and didn’t want to go back and watch it. I hope you guys like it because I kinda just wrote this as things came to me so it might not make much sense.

Masterlist

“What the bloody hell happened here?” Tommy’s voice boomed through the betting shop that looked as if a bull had been let loose in it. Paper strewn across the floor, tables, and desks turned over. If John hadn’t called his fucking meeting, none of this would have happened.

The poor employee, who had been left to deal with the mess, grumbled, “The Lees, all of them. Cousins, nephews. Even the bastards.” He rubbed his right temple where a club had left a large goose egg. “They’ve taken anything they can lay their hands on. Four cash boxes.”

Polly turned over a metal bin with the end of her shoe. This is what they got for everything they’d done. It wasn’t right, no, but it seemed to be fair. Revenge comes to those who double-cross, lie, steal, and kill there way to the top.

“They left these,” the man groaned, getting up from where he sat and handed over a pair of cutters that he’d found under a table.

“Wire cutters?” Polly raised a brow as Tommy examed them. “Why would they leave wire cutters?”

Gears clicked into place in her nephew’s mind. “Nobody move.” Fear and panic washed over his face. “I think our friends are playing the game.”

“What game?” Polly, sighed, going to run a finger along a toppled over desk.

“Pol, don’t,” Thomas warned. She brought her hand back to her side at his words. “Don’t touch anything.” He surveyed the room, the war flashing before him in bright colors. They were playing war games now. “Erasmus Lee was in France.”

“Shit.”

“When we gave up ground to the Germans, we’d leave behind booby traps set up with wires,” Tommy stated, remembering a time he helped his comrades leave a booby trap. “Then we’d leave wire cutters. It’s part of the joke,” he let out an angry laugh. “Somewhere in here, there’s a hand grenade.”

“Holy Jesus,” Polly muttered, the shit her nephews got her into.

“Attached to a wire,” he continued. “Don’t move any chairs. Or open any doors.”

While the Shelbys were searching for the grenade, Y/n was halfway home. Stumbling as little as possible, she held her coat tight against her and her hat as low as it could be without falling off. She looked like she’d been through hell, a black bruise on her cheek, a cut under one eye, blood trickling down her leg from a cut she’d earned on a glass. All over, she was covered in black and blue bruises, but that wasn’t going to stop her from reaching the safety of her family’s home.

She had been sitting in the kitchen when the Lees entered the shop, as quiet as a mouse. No one would have known they were there until all hell broke loose. Chairs were smashed, tables turned over, and then they entered the kitchen.

Y/n wasn’t even supposed to be at the shop. She was supposed to go shopping with her sister, but that got canceled and so Y/n decided to drop by and see Tommy. When she realized he wasn’t there, she took a seat at the kitchen table, deciding to wait for his return.

That was a mistake.

One of the Lees, grabbed her after she’d jumped from the table in shock. Pulling her hair, he thought he could get his way with her, but her father didn’t raise no damsel in distress. Y/n was a fighter, coming from a family of boxers, she knew how to through a punch. More than that, adrenaline was pumping like a freight train through her bloodstream, screaming at her to fight.

With her attacker’s arms wrapped around her waist, she reached for a pot on the stove, her fingers grazing over it enough to bring it closer. Fingers wrapped around the handled, she swung at her attacker, hitting him in the head. He toppled to the ground, but he was quickly replaced with another. And when she thought she had the situation under control, another one appeared behind the new one, more behind that one. The Lees clearly had a problem with a woman standing over a man, victorious. And so, she did her best to fight them off, leaving the kitchen a mess.

When they left, Y/n was surrounded by broken glass, bloodied pots, and toppled furniture. Her head was throbbing from where it had been forced into the table by one of the men and all she wanted to do was fall into her mother’s soft arms. She should have stayed to help clean up the mess, but that was all too much for her to process. So, grabbing her hat and coat, Y/n exited the same way she had entered, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Now, nearly home, she believed she’d made the right decision. Tommy would have been furious if he’d found her covered in blood. He kicked himself for letting it happen, but she knew, he would also be angry that she didn’t go home when she couldn’t find him. And then, when he had calmed down a little, she knew he would want nothing but blood from those who thought they could destroy him. Y/n didn’t want that. There had been enough bloodshed, there needed to be peace. But that wouldn’t happen if she’ stuck around.

Thomas Shelby would burn down the world for her.

It was no secret how he felt for her. The burning love that coated everything he touched. There wasn’t a second he wasn’t thinking of her and a moment he wouldn’t do anything for her. It was dangerous, how much he loved her. Y/n wasn’t willing to let that destroy him, not when it could be prevented.

“What happened?” her father’s words were rushed, lifting her chin to get a better look at her face. “Don’t tell me Thomas did this. I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im!”

Y/n shook her head, wincing when a damp washcloth was pressed onto a cut on her arm. “No, dad. Tommy didn’t do this,” she muttered, taking the cloth from her mother. Trained in nursing, her mother was nurturing and gentle when it came to patching up anyone but her children. Her touches were rough like sandpaper, likely because her kids always tried to worm away from her. “Mum, stop.”

He swore under his breath and went over to the cabinet that held the family’s liquor collected. A large bottle of bourbon was placed on the table, next to his daughter, along with a couple of glass. “If it wasn’t him then who was it?” He questioned while filling the glasses.

“The Lees.”

“Fucking gypsies,” he spat as he shoved a glass of bourbon in Y/n’s hand. “Drink this.”

“Jack!” Her mother scolded him. “We are no better them. Don’t you dare go using their heritage against them.”

Jack grumbled, deciding to take a drink from the glass in front of him than answer. She wasn’t wrong, though. Y/n’s family were considered to be French gypsies with how they lived when they were in their homeland. Both sides born and raised in France, the French people didn’t care, those in the cities, that is. They saw them as dirt and nothing more. People like her family, though the backbone of the country, weren’t wanted where there was work, and many families were forced to move. That’s how her family had ended up in Birmingham.

Finishing off her glass, Y/n placed in front of her just as her mother pulled out a needle and thread. She grabbed the neck of the liquor bottle, pouring the liquid in her glass until the amber liquid spilled over the rim. “Doesn’t matter who did what. I’m not dead, there’s no need for much fuss.”

A few days had passed, but Y/n didn’t feel much better. Body sore and mind cloudy, her mother gave her two options, stay home with her or go with her father while he trained boxers. She chose the latter as it would be more entertaining. If she’d stayed home, she was sure her place would be in the kitchen, mixing a bowl of cake mix. As much as she wanted to enjoy the sweets her mother baked, she didn’t want to help make them.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, holding a newspaper out in front of her, trying to drown out the noise of two men lunging at each other. As entertaining as boxing was, she’d grown up watching it and could think of a hundred other sports that captured her interest more than that.

“Nobody’s seen you in days.”

He found her. She decided not to give him much of a reaction. All she wanted was for him to leave, never seeing her face. Y/n wasn’t sure if she would be able to stand the look on his face when he found out what he caused. “Perhaps people should think of visiting me more, instead of it being the other way around.”

The sound of foot stops hit her ears as he approached her. Against her better judgment, her eyes flickered up, meeting his. Are you hurt?” Voice full of an odd combination of anger and love.

“No.” Y/n glanced back down at her paper.

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” he questioned sternly, removing the paper from her hands. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, Tommy. Don’t worry about it.” She stood from her seat, moving past him to go stand next to her father. Tommy was too smart, she knew, to start something in her father’s presence. But she didn’t get the chance to get far when a hand caught her wrist and pulled her against his chest. “Hey!”

“Would you tell me what happened?”

A huff escaped her, giving in once she saw the concern in his eyes. “I was at the betting shop the other day-”

“When the Lees attacked,” he finished his sentence, running a hand down his face. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. “Those fucking bastards! You should have told me!” Y/n rolled her eyes, something the man caught. “What was that for?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you to begin with.”

Tommy was a loss of words once he heard that. He thought that she hadn’t told him because she didn’t trust him or because it was his fault that she was stuck in the middle of all this. But no, it was his anger. Letting out a breath, he did his best to calm down. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. “Should’ve taken you with me.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her voice was muffled by his overcoat.

He laughed. “John called a fucking family meeting about marrying a whore.”

“Oh.” The Shelby family meetings were sacred things. Y/n had never been permitted at one but if they were all over matters as such, she doubted she ever wanted to attend.

“You’ll be at the next one.”

Y/n pulled away enough to see his face. “Why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy leaned down to capture her lips with his. “Because you’ll be Mrs. Shelby by the next meeting.”

There was silence as her cheeks turned red. The couple had talked about marriage a handful of times, but they had both decided it wasn’t the right time. Tommy wanted to get the family business in order and his demons under control. Y/n had to figure out how to keep her family from killing each other as each of her brother’s had different ideas about what to do with the family’s boxing ring. But those… the could figure them out together.

“Are you… blushing?” Tommy gave her a cheeky grin.

“Oh, stop it.” She hit him playfully before giving him a quick kiss. “You know, you’ll probably have to get in the ring-” She tilted her head over to the ring behind him. “-to win my hand.”

He smiled. “I would do anything to be able to marry you.”

*~~*~~*~~*

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mia-ugly · 4 years

Text

Breakable Things

Martin is big.

Not in a strapping film-star kind of way. Not tall or broad-shouldered, not a ‘mountain of a man’ or a ‘tall drink of water’ or anything like that.

Just big (a dumb, blunt, smack of a word.)

He was big as a lad, he’s bigger now. He always had the kind of body that inspired too many teachers to push him toward wrestling, football, rugby even (apparently his dad had been involved with the clubs. Apparently he’d been a fair tighthead back in the day, before he left Martin’s mum, and left Martin to gather up the pieces, cutting his fingertips on every one.)

It didn’t take Martin’s teachers or schoolmates long to realize that Martin’s size did not equate to any sort of athletic skill. And once the - inevitable rumours started circulating around Year Seven, well. Any motivation he might have had to be ‘part of a team’ was drained out of him like a tire going flat (that metaphor needs work. Doesn’t really convey the violence, try again.) His motivation left him like the air being knocked from his lungs, shove after hard shove against the lockers.

Martin is strong.

Physically. He doesn’t know why - got it from his father, didn’t he - his wide back, his thick fingers, his solid legs. He took a cricket bat to the face once - ought to have broken his nose, blackened his eyes, but it didn’t. Got in a car accident when he was seventeen, didn’t even crack a rib. Flipped the whole thing into the ditch, and his mum screamed herself hoarse when she found out, but Martin walked away from it. Physically. He walked away.

He doesn’t bruise easily. If he cuts his hand chopping vegetables, it heals quickly. He doesn’t have any scars (he has stretch marks though, all over his stomach and thighs, and for all that he is strong, he’s soft. He’s soft and he knows it, all pudding and poetry and fear, oh, fear most of all. It's pathetic how easy he is, how quickly he caves, rolls over and does whatever's asked of him.

In most situations, anyway. With most people.)

“Why don’t you want me coming with you?”

Jon is in his office, seated in front of that bloody tape recorder as always. The sight of him there is so familiar, like the negatives from a film camera. Like even if Jon wasn’t there, the imprint of him would still linger, white as a ghost against the darkness.

He doesn’t seem surprised to hear Martin’s voice. Neither does he glance up from the desk where he’s shuffling papers, gathering up books. His hands move constantly, restless and bird-boned and Martin is always looking at them, even when he tries not to.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Jon’s voice is low, rough with exhaustion, and it makes Martin wince. Makes him want to fuss (when is the last time the man got a decent night's sleep? Someone should bring him a cup of tea, someone should rub his shoulders, someone should do something -

He knows he has a caretaking thing. He knows it’s not - good. And the sharp ones get to him like anything, he wants to win them over in a pathetic, salivating way. It’s a sickness, but -

- but there was a point when it suddenly stopped being about Martin’s Whole Thing, and just started being about Jon.

He’ll talk to someone about it, swear. A professional, even. If the world doesn’t end.)

“It’s fine if you get hurt, though, is it?”

Jon does look up now, and Martin forces himself not to take a step back under the dark-lashed scrutiny. The heavy eyebrows, the shimmer of scars. Sometimes Jon’s skin reminds Martin of the surface of a planet, a rough and distant moon. He wonders how it is that Jon can be so narrow, so small, and still take up so much room in the Archives, and in the world, and in Martin’s big (and soft and so so stupid ) heart.

“It is my job.”

“No. This - this is not your job.” Martin struggles to put the words together in the face of this vast, ridiculous injustice. “Going off to - what? Do battle with some sort of evil, circussy death-cult, that’s not your job . You don’t get paid for that.”

Jon snorts, derisive, and Martin wishes he could be angry. It’d be easier if he was angry with Jon.

But he isn’t.

“Melanie needs you here. And I can’t be - there, thinking about -“ Jon stops. He swallows and looks back down at the scattered papers on his desk. A snowfall of horror stories, laid out neatly on Hammermill Bright White. “Worrying about you.”

(“Leave it, Martin, I’m fine just - leave me alone -” Mum smacks him away with a vein-bruised hand.)

“Because I’ll make a mess of things - is that what you think? I can help you, I want to help you-”

“I will feel better knowing you’re here.”

“And how do you think I’ll feel? Knowing you - you and, um Tim and Daisy - are out risking your lives while I’m sat on my hands, drinking tea, being useless -”

“You aren’t.” Jon’s voice is suddenly loud, as if he’s in pain. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I don’t - I can’t - you’ll be helpful here. The Institute needs you, and Melanie needs you, and I -”

-don’t, Martin hears.

Though Jon doesn’t say it, Martin hears it.

“Right,” he manages. “All right.”

He should go. He’s going to go. But he lingers for a moment more, committing as much of Jonathan Sims to memory as he can. The angles of him, compact and rigid with anxiety. The fall of hair across his forehead, ink black shot through with grey. Thin pink lines that a blade left below his jaw, a ripple of lacy scar tissue on his hand (and Martin mostly, mostly doesn’t wonder what those scars would feel like against his own skin. On his shoulder or - or sliding down the length of his throat. At the back of his neck, tugging him into a kiss.)

Come back, come back, come fucking back. Martin isn’t religious, never one for church, but it’s as much of a prayer as he’s ever said.

“Is there something else you want?” Jon asks, terse and tired and - for one thoughtless moment he is the Archivist and only the Archivist, and Martin can’t help but gasp out a shocked, “yes.”

Jon knocks a book off the desk. It slams to the floor loud as a gunshot, and Martin flinches.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, I -”

“No, I’m - I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“It’s fine - I know you didn’t -”

“I would never -”

“But you can.”

There’s a horrible silence, like the moment after the tape recorder shuts off, statement ends. Martin feels sick to his stomach and Jon looks like - like -

He doesn’t know what Jon looks like. Maybe that’s why he keeps talking.

“You can ask me. What I - what I want.” Heat is rushing to his face, a blush that feels like thorns. Jon just stares at him, and this was a bad, bad idea. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Jon doesn’t even need to ask the question, probably knows the whole awful story just by looking at him. “If you wanted.”

When Jon says nothing, just keeps staring, Martin tries desperately to double back.

“Never mind, that was -” He flaps his hands a bit, moving towards the door. His shoulders hunch, an old defense mechanism, useless body trying to make itself look as harmless as possible. Trying to make itself so small it’s beyond notice (it never works.) “I shouldn’t have. I can’t believe I - just - be safe. All right? That’s all I -”

“Martin -”

“That was - stupid, such a - I’m sorry, I only -”

“-what do you want?”

The words are spoken quietly. Barely above a whisper. But Martin doesn’t need to hear them - his whole body hears them, and suddenly every syllable feels golden in his mouth. Saying it out loud isn’t frightening or humiliating, it’s easy. Answering the Archivist is like falling asleep in a patch of sun-warmed grass, or gasping for air after holding your breath underwater.

“I want you to come back.” It’s honey dripping off his tongue. “I want you to come back for me. And I want the world not to end, and I want to know what your hair feels like, whether it’s soft or coarse and whether I can tell the difference between the black parts and the silvery parts just by touching them.”

Jon is absolutely frozen behind his desk. He might not even be breathing, but that’s okay; Martin can’t remember why anyone needs to breathe.

“And I want to help you. And the others. I want to matter. And I want Sasha to be okay, and I want Tim to be okay, and I want Elias to finally face some fucking consequences for once. I want to take you on holiday and - and watch you while you sleep so you know you don’t have to be afraid. I want to wake you up if you have nightmares and make you tea in the morning and bake things for you, and - and I want to kiss you, even if it’s just once. Only once, just so I know, and only if you want me to. That’s what I want.”

The sweetness ends the moment the last word leaves his mouth. Suddenly the honey is cloying and acrid, suddenly his heart is unsteady with embarrassment, skipping beats like he’s just had a shot of adrenaline. Martin chokes on a breath and slams his eyes shut against the spinning room.

“Fuck.” His voice cracks on the word, insult to injury, and he claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh God - I’m - oh God. That was -” He barely remembers what he said, which is the only thing keeping him upright at the moment. He just knows it was soft, pathetically soft. Even his fantasies are as weak as his jawline. “I’m going to - go, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have -”

“W-wait.”

Martin doesn’t want to open his eyes. But he does. Just in time to see Jonathan Sims stand up. Start to walk around the desk.

And Jon is not big. Or strong, physically. Martin knows a bit about anatomy, took a couple art classes, was always fascinated by the bones of things. As Jon steps closer, Martin can only see the breakable things about him. Collarbones, fingers, bridge of his nose. What’s that bone in the arm that everyone’s always breaking?

Humerus.

Ulna.

Jon is not strong, and he is scarred, and he is small and fragile and God he is the bravest person Martin’s ever met.

“Martin, you -” Jon stops in front of him and Martin looks down, gaze almost level with the top of Jon’s head. “You can ask me. What - what I want.”

He’s shaking, Martin can see it - and it makes him realize that he’s shaking too. He barely manages the “What -” before he forgets how to say the rest, forgets how words work (but Jon, Jon is brave.)

“I think - I would like -” Jon reaches for Martin’s hand, and lifts it to his mouth. Presses a dry kiss right in the centre of Martin’s palm.

It’s a ruining sort of softness, and Martin’s big (physically) and strong (physically) but somehow Jon knows where his weaknesses are - the loose dragonscale, the slipped disc.

(And of course, after this the world will almost end (but not quite.) After this, there will be Elias and Martin’s humiliating tears over a statement he knew damn well, a beholding that came as no surprise to anyone.

After this Jon will die.

Almost. Not quite.)

But now: Jon is murmuring, “I think -” as he leans up to kiss Martin (and his warm mouth is shocking and brief, a knife sliding home.)

But now: Jon is still shaking when their lips part, and Martin’s hands are on either side of his face, tips of his fingers settled lightly in Jon's hair (it’s softer than anything, as it turns out, and the silvery parts are softest of all.)

Their foreheads press together, both of them breathing harder than one kiss should warrant. And Martin doesn’t say any of those other things he wants, any of the white-hot words he’s scratched down on paper or typed into the notes app. He doesn’t say anything about the shape of Jon’s shoulder-blades through that thin grey t-shirt he wears, doesn’t bring up any metaphors about fading light or seaglass or breakable things that are also strangely beautiful.

Because what good is poetry at the end of the world?

“Be careful,” Martin says instead (and Jon won’t be.)

“Come back,” he says (and Jon isn’t going to. Not for a long, long time).

And hours later, standing in that empty office, Martin will see the lighter that Jon left on his desk. He will notice the black handful of ashes in the rubbish bin, and wonder what Jon was burning.

And Martin is soft. People-pleasing and pathetic and terribly, terribly in love.

But Jonathan Sims kissed him once (once) and for a moment, in that office, with a small blue flame leaping in his hand -

Martin is not afraid.

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #trying to remember how this writing thing goes #some consensual beholding between bros #Season 3 episode 117 #missing scene #homophobia cw #bullying cw

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Note

For the most recent post doing my ask about Maui! (5/12/21, or 12/5/21 for the American date system I think)

Yes!! With these types of oc's they are generally parts/all of you and that can help you figure a lot of stuff out, alternatively people make oc's the opposite of themselves because of self esteem issues!! Maui is simultaneously someone I want to be, someone I do not ever want to be, and someone to help me work through my problems efficiently if I remember he exists (kinda)

It's nice being able to imagine yourself in experiences that you will never know, without it being you. I find it quite pleseant, myself.

Yes!! More characters need poor memory!! Like yeah it's more work on the author but still, I find that it'd be much more realistic to have a character forget about the Important Object entirely and make it work with literally everything else and realise hours later that it could've been so much easier

And u don't hold that against you for his name!! A lot of people do!! I just happen to vaguely remember the stories we were told in primary school and remembered this kid in primary (He was kind of a dick but whatever) called Maui. And it depends on the day!! Mostly!! He went through a real rough patch where he was basically drugged up for a while after his wife died and had a general disdain for the law when he was younger (2nd/3rd time, I'm still revising everything with this so it's all subject to change), but he is definitly getting better and going to therapy. He is definitly leaning towards chaos incarnate but full of love (I wouldn't call him stupid but his smart is the hyperfocus kind of smart so he is really only intelligent when it comes to machines and small other things but for the most part there are no thoughts. Like he is absolutly a genius, he could probably cure cancer kind of genius, but he cannot comprehend normal life properly. Everything is too loud and he wants tk do everything at once or nothing at all and sometimes he wants to do something but he can't and either starts things much too early or finishes them right before the deadline, or hyprfocuses on his machines.) But yes!! He would give off big himbo vibes. Like even if he looked all tough and scary it would immediatly be remidied by his almost comical love for his pocket mirror and his general politeness. He thinks he's figured out social situations.

Ok so the mother didn't care about him and that was like. Her big drug rage because he looks quite similar to his dad who called her out on her bullshit and left without another word and was. Not very sane. By the time she was sober enough to realise what she did, Maui had stopped the bleeding with his knowledge of basic first aid and snuck out of the house to the town healer (No emergency services unfortunately, and no growing limbs back, either) and had started to work on his metal arm. Why did he have to go straight to prosthetics? Because he all but ran after his mum did that and has no clue what she did with his arm.

As for the world he's in, I'm imagining it's a sort of prehistory thing but all accounts of magic being able to be used have been destroyed and are. Long gone. I'll have to send in another ask explaining what I've done with the world so far but yeah. The short of it is: Magic is the life-force/soul that sustains every living thing and a civilization figured out how to use it to their advantage, either through some being able to use their own life force to create these miracles, or by combing the forces of others into potions and foods. Maui (named Viktor when he was a child the first time round) was born with the ability to do magic and accidently learnt how to make his machines come to life. The full extent of it was lost to him, all he cares about was that he could zap his inanimate bird and then it would fly around and generally live, even if he felt very drained and somewhat naustious afterwards. Maui directly ties into how this civilization fell, but that's for the other post.

And yeah!! Honestly I would love the occasional magic creature. Just animals in general. And yes!! Building your own family is great!! Found family with machines and magical creatures. And yeah, Maui went "Welp, if it's gonna take up all of my thoughts all day every day then I might as well get money from it." and he did. Probably not legally for the first lot of it, but he did. And steampunk is so cool!! I dknt know many punk aesthetics but I like that one a lot. Solarpunk sounds like a vibe, imma go look up what it is real quick after I send in this ask!

And yess, children need to be protected at all costs.

I only vaguely remember that kid now but!! He is so cute!! Also the embodiment of Maui trying to make scones!! He has no clue why, but he just can't make them. If they're underbaked, he puts them in the oven to keep baking, but then they burn. If they aren't underbaked, they're burnt. On the rare occasion they aren't underbaked or burnt, they always taste horrible and that is enough to quell Maui's celebrations. The worst attempt was the time that he basically turned scones into rocks, buried them, came back a few years later and they hadn't decomposed! It's a fun story for him to tell. He keeps them in a glass case in his walk in closet.

And yes, why wouldn't this kid have to microwave them longer, if they're smoking then that means they're close to melting, you should have let him microwave them longer /j

Oh, he's tried being shorter all right! He did not succeed. But he tried! He's gotten so used to it that he barely notices it anymore. He just bonks his head into the door frames and carries on. Obviously he's paid for his doorframe to be taller, but for everywhere else...

I hope it does too! I do want to make it legitimate but still keep it fitted in with everything. I feel like he'd be quite insecure about it and feel a sense of resentment everytime he saw it so he would do everything in his power to forget, but with time he comes to drop all the things he uses to hides it and just accepts his arm. I forgot that researching was a thing that I could do but I will deifnitly do it and his arm will probably be revised somewhat! But for now, whenever he meets friends of friends he has a nice time of shaking their hand and subtly detaching his arm and leaving them holding onto it, he's got a slip that makes it look and feel like a real arm. Or it's magic. I haven't decided.

Ayyy, forgetful buddies! I forgot I even sent in this ask!! Oh, I'm sure he has lost it in the bathroom before. I say lsot but he jsut forgot he left it there. He probably took it off to shower and left it on the sink and walked right passed it once he was finished. He freaked out once he realised, though, and eventually found it.

I don't know what noodle vibes mean but for the rest, absolutly. His favourite places to just flop down and sleep include his couch and outside on the grass. If he is tired and his body let's him sleep, he sleeps. Doesn't matter where.

Pets!! More characters in published media need pets. Like average pets. Like a cat or a bird or something. Like, even of its a magical cat. Cats basically teleport anyway so I don't see the big deal. And yes!! He loves his lizard and cat!! And he often ignores the legality of something, for better or for worse

Aww, so she's like the lizard then. Except the vocal bit. But ahhh she sounds amazing!! I love it!! Bart is purposefully chaotic and is probably the incarnation of evil but is quick to comfort Maui if he's upset and will jump into Hemo's enclosure to drag him over to help.

I will tell him! He would be very happy to teach you and would frantically shove lots of blueprints in your arms and keep blabbering about it and forgetting to pause for a breath, and would try slow down and clarify anything if need be.

Yeah, I think I'm slowly figuring out my style! Writing isn't something I do often so I think it's going a lot slower than drawing, but that's ok! It makes sense! And yeah, I'm almost scared to lock him into a storyline and make things about him 'canon', I like the fluidity I have with him, but I do also want to share an authentic him with the world! But that requires a lot more planning about the type of world he would be in and how he would fit into the story. Maybe I could just write a bunch of au's about him next to the main story. I can be my own fandom.

Also wow this is so long! I have spent more than 40 minutes on this!! Its truly a feat of mine. And yeah!! You've been busy and have other asks to get to, so that all makes sense! And yay!! Also I have revised the writing I did of Maui from the outside and made it generally more comprehensible but this ask is getting long so I'll just put it in its own ask.

And yes!! It's fun!! I'm someone who grows attached to a character so making more than one meaningful character is hard, but yeah!! I birthed him with my thoughts and words!! My advice would to try do some of those '40 questions for/about my character' if you haven't already! I don't think I've done one for Maui but it would be fun, I think

-Heathen

heathen! hello! It has been a fair amount of time since you sent this in, so thank you for your patience. Also, how dare you put dates on these and reveal to the world just how far in the past some of my asks are /j (this one is my oldest aside from oh shit just remembered two in my drafts. well, aside from those this is my oldest so they're not all this old!!)

(also i'm putting this under a cut to save space)

Honestly I think the best way to write characters is if they are a part of you, regardless of whether you want to be them or not. it helps when writing them so much to be able to understand the reasons they do the things they do, even if it's a part of yourself you don't like very much. People are patterns! People are consistent, even if you can't find the pattern or recognize your own patterns. So even if you don't like it, finding a pattern and creating one to build a character or their traits off of is so helpful, and can even be cathartic, to give your issues to someone who doesn't exist and let them act according to the patterns, and then learn from them without the irl consequences. I could give so many examples but I don't want to take up space.

And it is really nice to imagine people like you in scenarios you won't be in. It's like ah...the possibility. I personally don't like to include myself in my daydreams--it feels wrong--but sprinkling pieces of myself into the world and the characters and their decisions and their interests, it's like I am the daydream. I'm not just a character in it, but everything about that world and the people in it are mine and something about that is very thrilling.

Characters with poor memory my beloved!! there are some situations where it doesn't make sense--like kotlc and Sophie with her photographic memory--but otherwise, people have awful memories a lot of the time and it would be interesting to see how that affects the story when the character can't just suddenly put together the clues at a really dramatic time. Or to see the different ways they work in order to deal with their memory. Just a few hours ago I realized I needed to bring a form to a place tomorrow, and that in order to bring it there it needed to be in my bag. but it was on the desk. So I had to within moments of realizing that take initiative to put it near my bag and on top of objects that are essential for me leaving the house tomorrow so I wouldn't forget it. it all came down to like five seconds, and it would be nice to see characters do that too!!

also wow you threw a lot of information at me right there and I am still processing all that but--he had a wife?? I don't know why that stands out to me so much I guess he seems younger in my brain, but congrats--wait no something bad happened to his wife not congrats. I'm glad he's getting help that works for him, though! "chaos incarnate but full of love" is my brain on a regular basis. I'm sure I'm not nearly as chaotic as Maui, but I will appreciate from afar as he wreaks havoc on the world entirely by accident. And being really smart about really specific things is an entirely vibe and I love it!! Though the trying to do things but brain says you can't is always annoying to deal with, so hopefully he's not suffering too much. You really went "he is incredibly neurodivergent" and I think that's incredible <33 I'm curious what makes him fond of his pocketwatch tho--

his mother is...definitely something! I'm wondering how long that drug induced rage was if he had time to do all that and also literally start building himself a replacement arm before she came down from it. I don't know a lot about recreational (or in this case maybe escapist) drug usage, but I feel like that would be...a very long high. But all that to say that's an intense childhood for Maui, like damn my dude do you need a hug??

and worldbuilding!! yay!! that's one of my favorite things to look at in a story: the world it's set in or has been created for it. From what you're saying so far, it sounds incredible! A world based on magic that can be harnessed and is tied to at least one person if not more. I won't get into all of it as you said you would send another, so I'll save my enthusiasm for there!! I can't remember at the moment if you have sent it, but either way!!

magical creatures are just yes all around. I mean, normal creatures are cool too, but like magic!! I love magic and fantasy and the impossible!! and just all the ways magical creatures can exist is so satisfying and fascinating and I love them,,so much. Found family that includes a magical creature is something that can actually be so personal. I'm glad he was also able to make money do what he enjoys, even illegally! honestly sometimes we all just gotta let loose and commit a few crimes. Petty theft, money laundering, tax evasion, you know (/j). I don't know a lot about punk aesthetics either, but I do know I enjoy them a lot and when looking at all the different kinds I agree with solarpunk ideology the most (and also like the aesthetic). But if I start talking about i'll take up a lot of space and also there are many people with a lot more knowledge than me!! Though I do hope to learn more when I can

characters who had really rough childhoods seeing children and deciding to do what they can to prevent another child from experiencing what they did....oh I love them so much. I have a few ocs like that and it's !! there's something about becoming the person who could've saved you when you were hurting that just so satisfying and evocative. Even when expressed through scones!! I will be honest i never understand the appeal of characters that are bad at cooking/baking because like...follow the recipe? You have a specific set of instructions to follow and then you'll get the result you want how are you messing that up. But you do you!! I hope Maui enjoys his not decomposed scones in a class case in the closet. that's a very specific detail of his character but I love it!!

(also the whole house smelled like smoke and that kid was just like ah yes let's do the exact same thing to see if it will solve the problem. I haven't seen those kids in forever but I jokingly told them that birds were their cousins and kept bringing it up and apparently they were repeating that even months later...maybe I shouldn't be around kids)

The benefits of being short: you can always increase your height! The benefits of being tall: ???? bonk. I hope he doesn't bonk his head too often, or that he has like a helmet he can wear when he's in public to absorb the shock of the bonk.

also slipping off his arm so that other people are holding it when they shake hands is incredible. just the absolute power that holds like..I am in awe. I don't know how much if any research you've done since you sent this but!! I hope it goes/is going well! I'm kinda in a similar situation with the wings au because I'm trying to make Dex's wings authentic to how prosthetics work in the human world so as not to erase that, while also acknowledging that his is an entirely different species that does everything different and so things would be different. Either way I wish you luck!

Forgetful buddies!! Sometimes things are super important and you're constantly trying to find ways to remember what they are, while other times it's just *shrug* and wait for it to come back to you. At any given point in time I assume there's something I'm forgetting or supposed to do that I'm not and I've just accepted it at this point. I don't think I've ever forgotten my arm in the bathroom, but I wouldn't put it past myself to do exactly that.

excellent news I also don't know what noodle vibes means. i just know it is correct and that he has them. as for sleeping anywhere...well at least he's sleeping!! that's something. Hopefully he's also well-rested, but he might be too chaotic to be. or, he's the kind of person who has the same amount of energy no matter how long he sleeps and can get through an entire day just fine on 4 hours of energy (though usually it starts to catch up with you towards the end in my experience as one of these people)

pets! more characters need them, and as a cat person I would very much like more characters to have cats whether they're magical or not. Dogs are fine they just...they make a lot of noises that really mess with me and I cannot!! process that!! I really wish I could but the moment a dog starts barking and growling I want to throw them off a cliff or strangle them to get the noise to stop, and since I can't then I just zone out really hard until they're quite. Cats do not make the icky dog sounds though!!

I'm glad you seem to like my cat! I happen to have a fondness for her, and Bart sounds incredible as well. I do not know a lot about Bart but I love him and wish him the best in his endeavors of being Maui's pet. that cannot be an easy task

I may not understand anything Maui says at first or the blueprints but I will listen dutifully along!! as for finding your writing style, that can take a while so the more you write the more opportunities you have to explore the language!! and even though put him to words can feel like locking him down, sometimes it helps to remember that drafts exist and this is just the first time you're writing it. You could write it 50 more times if you needed to! You can always go back and change things in your quest to share him with the world. And nothing is stopping you from writing your own aus!! I've done something kinda similar with an original story of mine where I take different characters and put then in other worlds and stories to experiment with how I want to write them, but it's not canon in the slightest. those two don't belong in space I just put them there temporarily.

and yep this is pretty long!! I've spent about 65 minutes answering it!! though parts of that were me getting distracted and doing other things for a minute or two but!! that's not the longest I've ever spent on an ask but it's up there. and I think I saw that you sent me the writing you mentioned, so I'll answer that later! I don't know exactly when as I'm trying to balance many things and asks at the moment, but I will get to it!

I also get very attached to specific characters and worlds. I have this whole set of like six or seven ocs that I really want to write about but whenever I start to think about them I get drawn back to this otehr group of five and i'm like wait, brain, the other people!! I'll get to them eventually though. And I might look at some of those questionaires!! Those characters are in need of some heavy remodeling, so i'd definitely need some of those basic questions to start over with.

this was a lot of information but thank you for sharing!! it's wonderful to learn more about maui and you at the same time!!

#ocs go brrr #hearing about yours always makes me wanna work on mine #I never do but the desire is there #one day I will get back to them...#I have like over 100.000 words about them and still I know so little #I have vague ideas though #but thank you for all the maui information!!!#you're more than welcome to talk about him and his world anytime #quil's queries #heathen nonsie #other's ocs

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kota-bee · 3 years

Text

moony

a/n: hey look a new series because i got overhwhelmed by in the dark. this will be a self indulgent story so its ok if you dont like it. im trying a new writing style so let me know if its any good. this isnt really edited so read at your own risk. shout out to anyone who can figure out which part of this chapter i inserted after it was done.

chapter 1/? word count: 1628

warnings: none i think. a weeny bit of blood.

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towering trees and bright flowers are all i can see for miles, it was the most beautiful thing ever. mother held my hand, swinging it as we walked along the dimly lit dirt path. "happy birthday my love! how does it feel to be 6 hm?" mothers words are soft and full of love as she looks down at me fondly. "not much differnt, i think im taller maybe?" i screw my face up trying to think if i felt taller or not, i *felt* taller. mother laughed heartly as she looked around us. "youre almost past my hip now! youve definitely gotten taller." mother cooed still looking happily at me. i smiled, i *am* almost past her hip now! i swung her hand even more as we contiuned on our walk. "dad doesnt like to go on these walks does he?" i questioned, looking up at mother. "he doesnt like to get his fancy shoes dirty, Alexander has always been that way" she reasured me softly. the bush in front of us rustled, mother excitedly pulled me down to crouch so we didnt scare the critter moving towards us. i wiggled excitedly, hoping it would be a bunny. "stay still. maybe its a deer" mother whispers into my ear. the rustling get louder before a dirty tired looking man stumbles out. mother pulled me up harshly and hid me behind her. i tried to peek out at the man but she shoved me behind her again. i suddenly remebered what day it was, the full moon. i clutched to mothers shirt as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"can i help you sir? you look ill" mothers voice is shakey but firm. "now that you ask... i do need help"

im on my back on the floor, its uncomfortable and bumpy. my hands are wet and warm, it feels gross and sticky.i raise my hands to my face, theyre red? i turn my head to see if mother knows whats happening and... the man is on top of her, his teeth digging into her neck. shes screaming, crying, "m-mom?"

"mom?" i whisper but im not in that forest anymore, im on my bed in my room. i look around my room, at the posters and drawings on my wall that i made myself, at my trunk and bag near my door. it takes me a second to register the knocking at my door. "andi we need to go" a sandy haired man says softly as he pushes through my door. its just remus, im safe. i push myself up to sit on the edge of my bed and run my hand through my messy curls. "are you alright sweetheart?" remus- dad, asks me softly. "nightmare" i mumbled sleepily. he sighs and sits down next to me. he rubs circles against my back. "its always worse after the full moon, give yourself some patient love" dad said softly, he knew i wouldnt actually give myself time to bounce back. it was frustrating to admit i needed time to heal, i didnt like admitting i was differnt. dad sighed and kissed my forehead gently "get dressed, you can eat at the weasleys, molly will have plenty of food for you"

i pull my t-shirt and worn jeans on and try desperatley to make my hair less of a mess. i dragged my trunk downstairs towards dad who was waiting patiently at the door. "ready? molly will have some ointments for you when you get there."

"i double checked this time" i chuckle, more than once ive forgotten something important, my school supplies werent exactly cheap so that wasnt exaclty ideal. dad chuckled and looped his arm through mine and, with a loud pop, we landed at the burrow. my second home! i live here as often as i do at dads house. it was the most brilliant house ive ever been too.

the door flew open and two lanky twins came flying towards me. fred and george collided with me, hugging me tightly. i giggled squeezing them tightly. Remus put his hand on my shoulder “I’ll see you at the train station, be safe” and with a pop he was gone.

“He never comes inside” a sweet voice came from the doorway. A plump woman was looking fondly at the three teens. She opened her arms wide, beckoning me forward. i smiled and wrapped my arms around molly. “Hello dear” she cooed into my hair. Molly pulled back and looked me over, cupping my face and turned it side to side, examining the new cuts and bruises i donned. She hummed

“Ginny! Ron! Come here!” Molly shouted as she pulled me inside, the twins following.

“She’s going to coddle you” Fred whispered into my ear with a little chuckle. i rolled my eyes as i followed molly into the kitchen where Ron and Ginny had just rushed in.

“Andi!” Ginny bounded towards me wrapping her arms around me and hugged me like it had been years since the last time she had seen me. Ginny had always looked up to me like an older sister ever since she could speak. i hoisted Ginny up and into my arms spinning her around. god i loved the weasleys, every one of them, including percy.

“I’m a little offended you didn’t do that for us” George huffed feigning hurt.

“Yeah come on andi, I thought we were your favourite” Fred added, mimicking his twin.

“Now when did I say that boys” i teased as i plopped Ginny back on the floor. The twins rolled their eyes before throwing their arms over my shoulders. the twins did this to me so often, we were always joined at the hip in some way.

“I dunno I just have a sneaking suspicion that you like us” the boys said in unison. i snickered and gave Ron a happy “hello”

“Now now boys don’t be too rough on her” molly scolded shooing the twins off of me. i sighed, Molly always had a tendency to treat me like i was fragile. “Oh come on mum it’s not like we’re throwing her around” Fred whined. “We could if you wanted” George whispered. The trio had learned early on that the best way to annoy the younger groups was to mock flirt with each other. After awhile it became an inside joke that the three found hilarious. Much to everyone’s dismay.

“Come on andi let me clean you up” Molly’s words are sweet but insistent. i know better than to argue with molly over this stuff. Molly is a excellent healer and it would be stupid to deny her help. i looked over at the twins who are grinning ear to ear, they did warn me i suppose. i rolled my eyes once more before following molly to the living room. i sit down on the sofa the twins and i often crowd. It was far too small for three lanky teens. Molly began rustling in a little bag near a bookshelf. She was humming a song and shaking to a tune only she could hear. Ah ha! Molly exclaimed as she pulled out a little jar full of white paste.

“This will help it heal a little faster, it won’t keep it from scarring unfortunately” molly starts excitedly before mumbling off the last part. i knew this, magic was wonderful but it couldn’t prevent scarring in most situations. i had more scars than i cared to count. Molly cupped my face as she smeared the paste over my wounds, i winced slightly. no matter if it had numbing ingriedents or not, this part always hurt

“I know it hurts, just breathe” molly humed. “Do you have anymore?” Molly questions looking me over. “You know the answer to that question” i chuckled dryly as i stood pulling my shirt up with me. Revealing a bandage stretching across my stomach.

Molly sighed, she hated seeing her kids hurt, not that Andi was her kid but it certainly felt like it. Molly peeled the bandage off slowly trying desperately to keep it from hurting too much.

i shuddered biting back tears as i felt the bandage pull healed skin with it.

The twins were watching from the doorway as molly tended to Andi. They knew what Andi looked like after full moons but they never got used to the gashes and bruises she dawned afterwards. Fred turned away, he felt sick to his stomach, he loved Andi, he wished he could take this from her. She didn’t deserve it.

Molly patched andi's stomach up once more and pulled her shirt down over it.

“Put this on your face twice a day and I’ll help you with your back until you go to school then then ask one of your friends to help” molly instructed waving her finger at me to enunciate her words.

“Yes ma’am” i mock soluted, i knew how much that annoyed her. i turned towards the door way and gave George a lopsided grin and peeked past him at Fred who was leaning against a counter.

“Want to show me what your letters talked about?” i said my tone dripping with mischief. The twins faces lit up as they grabbed my hands and dragged me up the stairs, giggling like kids the whole way to their room.

“What are you three planning??” Molly shouted up the stairs. She knew those three were troublemakers at heart. They had been since they met when they were 7. Remus needed help with Andi after a rough full moon and the rest is history. The three of them managed to turn rons teddy bear into a spider once.

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter fandom #harry potter stories #the weasly twins #the weasleys #harry potter #fan fiction #harry potter fanfiction #fypage

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