#I spent my first week of quarantine building a house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Part Two

____

Part Three

I did my best to take Scott's words to heart. It was eye-opening and, while it didn't change my concerns about how Grayson would be affected, it helped me soften my guard a little bit when it came to Chris.

We were both in over our heads, stuck with feelings that we didn't know what to do with and insecurities that left us unable to fight for what we wanted. I had doubts and I had questions, but if what Scott had divulged was true then I did have some sympathy for Chris because I knew exactly how he'd been feeling for the last few years.

So, I decided to talk to him. To hash it out, lay it all on the table and see what he had to say. I wasn't entirely sure I would change my mind about the situation, but I wanted to give him a chance to explain his thoughts and feelings unlike how I'd shut the conversation down after Christmas.

But I didn't count on how chaotic it was to be trapped in a house, all day every day, with a child who was almost three. Even with three adults, there were days when it felt like we were the ones who were outnumbered as we took turns trying to keep him constantly entertained and stimulated. To our credit, it was working and we were managing to keep Grayson from being bored, anxious to go out to a park or noticing that things were all that different, but it meant that I had no time or energy to deal with heavy conversations. Things were fine between Chris and I, we were getting along well enough with no more noteworthy disagreements, but there hadn't been a good time for any kind of heart-to-heart.

Things only got more complicated about a week and a half into our lockdown when Chris had to start doing interviews. He had a new show, Defending Jacob, coming out in a few weeks and he had to start the promo for it.

Most people who were working from home these days with small children running around had way more difficult situations to balance than we did, but we knew it would be tricky to keep Grayson from getting curious and barging into an interview. He'd proven to be quite sneaky when he wanted to be and Chris was anxious about the whole thing. He wasn't a big fan of interviews at the best of times so doing it over Zoom made him even more nervous. He spent the whole morning fretting about it being awkward, concerned that he wouldn't be able to relax and act natural, and it seemed like he was channelling his anxiety into his worries about Grayson. He very much liked to be in control of what the world saw of Gray and having him crash an interview wasn't what he wanted. I completely agreed and assured him several times that I wouldn't let that happen, but I could tell he was still stressed about it as he dragged himself off to get ready.

For the first hour or so that Chris was working, things went well. We read a story and played with some Lego, activities that wouldn't get Grayson too excited and noisy, but when Scott suggested that he curl up on the couch and watch Finding Nemo with him, we ran into a problem.

"Okay!" Grayson cheered, jumping up from where we'd been playing on the floor. "Be right back!"

He took off down the hall and I leapt into action, calling his name and stopping him just as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Where are you going, buddy?"

"To get my bear!"

Grayson's room was upstairs, next to Chris' office. He knew where Chris was so I knew there was a good chance he would stop by to say hello on his way past the door.

"Why don't you go get settled on the couch with Uncle Scott and I'll get your bear so you don't miss any of the movie?" I suggested. "Is he in your room?"

"No," he shook his head. "He's in Daddy's office."

I held back a groan, knowing that Gray would not be happy if I explained that he couldn't have his bear for the movie because we weren't allowed in Daddy's office right now. But I also knew that now he'd decided that he wanted to watch a movie, it wasn't likely that he would settle doing anything else either.

"Well, Daddy's very busy in his office right now," I explained. "But I'll go upstairs and see if I can sneak in and get him, okay?"

Grayson agreed to that suggestion and ran off back towards the living room as I glanced at the clock on the wall quickly and hoped that Chris was between interviews. I knew he wouldn't be done for the day just yet, but he had a few lined up so there was a chance that he wasn't currently on a call.

As soon as I pressed my ear to the door of Chris' office, my hopes were dashed. I could hear the sound of laughter echoing through from his laptop so I knew he was in the middle of something, but just as I was about to walk away I heard something that caught my attention.

"You have a son of your own, don't you?" The interviewer asked and I cringed, knowing that it wasn't something Chris liked to discuss. His character in the show was a father though so I wasn't surprised it had come up, it gave them a segue that they hadn't really had before. "How is that going with this lockdown?"

Ever the professional, Chris didn't even hesitate before he answered even though I knew he would be annoyed by the line of questioning.

"Oh, it's great! He's staying with me until all this is over so it's great that we get to spend so much time together," he told the interviewer. "I'm lucky enough to be in a situation where I can just take a few months off until things cool down without too much worry so we've just been relaxing, building blanket forts, watching movies and getting in some bonding time that I miss out on when I'm busy. It's had some challenges, but it's been really nice."

I knew I shouldn't be listening, it was rude to eavesdrop even if the conversation would shortly be broadcast to the whole world, but again, the interviewer's next question had me too intrigued to walk away. Despite all the talking points that he could have chosen from Chris' answer, he zeroed in on one thing.

"He's staying with you for the entire lockdown? Is there a rekindled romance we don't know about?" He asked. "Or is his mother no longer in the picture?"

My jaw dropped. I didn't know who Chris was talking with today, but it wasn't like his team to set him up for any interviews where he would be asked questions like that and most interviewers were too polite to fish for the kind of gossip you'd find in a trashy magazine.

"Oh, I'm not gonna get into all that." Chris' tone was much more clipped than it had been moments before - he was clearly not impressed by the question either. "It's not anyone's business really, is it? But I will say that she is definitely in the picture and one of the best moms that I know. She's staying here with us too."

My heart melted a bit at his compliment even though I knew the words he added at the end meant that we were in for a whole new gossip storm.

It suddenly felt like I really was overstepping by standing at the door listening to this conversation without his knowledge so I headed back downstairs. As I got back into the living room, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a message to Chris:

It would appear that you have a stowaway. I know you're busy, but please return Mr. Bear at your earliest convenience.

I put my phone away as I explained the situation to Grayson, but luckily, he was too interested in the movie to pay much attention to what I'd said. By the time Chris came down with the bear, it was like he'd forgotten that he ever cared about it in the first place.

Most of my attention was on Chris at that point though. The way he scurried into the room, avoiding looking in my direction at all. He looked ashamed and withdrawn and I couldn't hold back a sigh when he left the room quickly as I knew that he was beating himself up over the conversation that he didn't even know I'd heard.

Chris was sullen for the rest of the day. He perked up around Grayson, but whenever Gray was distracted there was a scowl or a frown firmly planted on his face. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how without confessing that I'd overheard his interview. Given his mood and the ease with which we fell into disagreements these days, that seemed like it would cause more issues than it would help.

The news broke at about eleven that night and I knew because I was suddenly inundated with texts from friends and with follower requests on my private social media accounts. I pulled up the video and watched the interview, feeling another wave of empathy when I saw the annoyance written all over Chris' face as he answered the questions. He'd found a subtle way to shut the interview down almost immediately after the incident and I was proud of him for handling it so diplomatically.

I added it to the list of things that I needed to talk to Chris about whenever I got the chance as I pulled myself away from my laptop and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. However, when I got into the hallway, I noticed a light coming up from downstairs. As far as I knew, everyone had gone to bed almost an hour ago, but I had a good idea whose thoughts would be keeping them awake so I headed down to investigate.

My suspicions were confirmed as I walked into the living room and saw Chris on the couch, his phone in his hand and his brow furrowed.

"Uh oh," I started, making his eyes snap up towards me. "Are you doomscrolling?"

The angry look on his face softened slightly as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Doomscrolling?"

"Yeah," I shrugged with a smile. "That's what the kids call it these days when you spend too long scrolling through the news or Twitter, just soaking in all the bad shit in the world."

Chris chuckled as I moved into the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch that he was on, tucking my feet underneath me.

"I didn't know you were so down with the kids these days."

"I'm getting old, Chris. I'm almost thirty-two, I have to stay cool somehow." I shot him a wink. "But anyway, what are you reading that's making you look so grumpy?"

Chris sighed and locked his phone, putting it on the end table next to the couch.

"I said something in an interview today," he admitted. "Something that I shouldn't have said."

I watched him for a moment, waiting for him to look at me and elaborate, but when he didn't, I spoke up.

"I hope you're not about to tell me that you regret saying what a good mom I am or I'll be really disappointed..."

That comment brought Chris' gaze back to me, his shock evident on his face until it faded into a grimace.

"You heard what I said?"

"I watched the video," I admitted. "I had a flurry of Instagram activity that tipped me off."

"You didn't read the comments, did you?"

There was worry written all over Chris' face when I shrugged.

"Of course I did. Can't have my self-esteem getting too high, can we?" I was teasing, but his look of gloom only deepened. "Chris, it doesn't matter. I'm no supermodel, they're not saying anything I don't already know."

"See, this is what bothers me," Chris snapped. "My so-called 'fans' are out there spewing all this crap about you and you're acting like it's all true, so who cares? Well, I care because it's bullshit and you don't deserve it!"

"I didn't mean it like that," I assured him, keeping my voice quiet in an attempt to cool the situation.

We'd been here many times over the years and I knew how enraged the comments made Chris. He saw right through me, he knew that I took some of the things that had been said to heart, but who wouldn't? It's hard not to take it personally when someone points out your biggest insecurities, the things that you hope no one else notices, the things that you tell yourself can't possibly be true or as bad as you think in your head. It's impossible not to let it get to you a little bit, but I was well practiced at dealing with it and had grown a thicker skin.

At least, when it came to the comments about my appearance. The comments about how I'm not good enough and how Chris could do better always struck a cord, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

"No?" Chris huffed. "What did you mean then?"

"That I know I'm an easy target because I'm not stick thin with a boob job," I answered, wanting to diffuse the situation before Chris got too upset. "They're cruel and mean, but they're just jealous because they think their dream boyfriend is taken now."

"Well, anyone who claims to be a real fan of mine wouldn't talk like that about someone I care about," he grumbled. "I shouldn't have answered, I should have just ignored the question."

"Actually, I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you set the record straight rather than have everyone think I've abandoned my child. I would probably get even more hate for that."

"He shouldn't have even asked about it," Chris continued. "It was so out of line. Why can't people just mind their own business?"

"Because everyone adores you and has a burning desire to know everything about you," I teased, stretching my feet out to nudge his leg gently. His lips twitched briefly into a smile, but it faded as fast as it appeared. "Even my friends were all messaging me, asking if it was true like gossiping teenage girls. Everyone wants the Chris Evans scoop."

That comment earned me a chuckle and I relaxed slightly, hoping that he was starting to calm down.

"I'm sure your friends were more interested in the gossip about your life, not because of me."

"I dunno," I shrugged. "They always liked you."

Chris smiled, but a sigh slipped from his lips as he draped his arm over my feet where they rested on the couch next to him. We sat quietly for a moment as I continued watching him, wishing there was something I could say to ease the worry in his mind, but his next words left me a little bit speechless.

"I do get it, you know?" He said, his eyes still fixed firmly on the ground in front of him. "I get why you wouldn't want to be with me. I get that it's a lot to deal with."

My heart sank at his admission and I scrambled to figure out what to say.

It wasn't ideal - discussing our relationship, while he was already feeling quite murderous - but he'd brought it up and it was hard to say when we'd get another chance. Once again, I found myself fighting the urge to bolt for the door, but I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, hoping that this would be a civil conversation.

"Chris, it's not that," I insisted, my voice soft in what I hoped would be a soothing tone. "Maybe they didn't do anything to ease my concerns, but the bullies on the internet aren't what scared me away."

"No?" His eyes flicked up to meet mine. "Then what did?"

He sounded so defeated and I bit my lip to keep my emotions from bubbling up. The truth was that I didn't know where to start. There was too much floating around my head, too many questions and too many explanations that made less sense now that I knew what I knew after speaking with Scott. I was scared, but it was a very justified fear that could only be made sense of by answering his question with another question.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in love with me?"

Chris raised an eyebrow, but shrugged off the question.

"You didn't seem like you wanted to hear it, Whitney. I told you that I was all in after Christmas and you shut me down pretty fast," he pointed out. "I didn't think blurting out a confession of love would do much to change that."

Had that been what I was referring to, it would have been a fair argument. However, I was referring to long before our latest incident so I shook my head.

"I talked to Scott," I confessed as a slight look of betrayal slid onto Chris’ face. "Don't be mad, he'd had a few drinks and was feeling sentimental. He told me that you were in love with me long before Grayson was even in the picture, but you never told me."

"I slept with you, didn't I?" He questioned, a defensiveness creeping into his tone. "Doesn't that make someone's feelings pretty fuckin' clear?"

"Hardly," I scoffed. "People sleep with people they're not in love with all the time and it becomes even less clear when they meet up afterwards to have a discussion about their relationship and that someone makes no mention of being in love."

"Was it really a discussion? Or did I show up at your apartment just to hear you lay out the ground rules?"

I faltered slightly as I thought back, but after a moment of reflection, I nodded.

"It was a discussion."

"I believe the first words out of your mouth were 'I think we both know that we're better off as friends'," he informed me. "Doesn't leave much room for debate."

"I was scared." That confession came out less confidently, but I found my voice again quickly. "And I assumed that's what you wanted too because you never pushed back."

He cocked his head to the side, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"You weren't the only one who was scared."

"I was the only one who was pregnant," I retorted, my tone growing harsher as my frustrations started to rise. "I was the only one who was trying to make a massive life decision while hormonal and growing another human being inside of them."

"That's fair," Chris nodded, his voice much calmer than I expected after my burst of annoyance. "But I wasn't about to pour my heart out and tell you how I felt when you kept talking about what a mistake we'd made as if you'd never regretted anything more in your life."

"Getting pregnant was a mistake," I clarified. "I love Grayson and I wouldn't change it for anything, but we can't say it wasn't a mistake at the time given our situation."

"A situation that you didn't want to change."

"Only because you never told me how you felt," I shot back. "I didn't want you to commit to something out of a sense of obligation. I didn't want you to put up with me for a few years until you dumped me for someone more in your league who you actually cared about."

There was a look of surprise on Chris' face at that revelation as it became more and more obvious to both of us that we hadn't been as good at communicating as we may have thought. It seemed we'd both been so convinced that we knew exactly how the other person felt that we hadn't bothered to actually ask them.

"But I did care about you," he assured me. "And you never told me how you felt either."

"I slept with you, didn't I?"

There was a smirk on my face as I threw his words back at him despite the anxiety that was bubbling inside me.

"A wise woman just informed me that sleeping with someone doesn't necessarily mean anything," he teased, a soft smile on his face. "But I think it's safe to say that we were both cowards."

"Again, in my defence, I was pregnant," I reminded him. "I was trying to make a logical decision while my brain was muddled with hormones."

"But you could have told me after," he pointed out. "We lived together for year after he was born, Whitney, and you never even dropped a hint."

"Oh, please," I snorted out a harsh laugh. "Do you remember what that year was like? We had a newborn baby who never slept for more than ten minutes at a time and you were flying in and out for the first six months, filming one of the Avengers movies. I was delirious, exhausted and emotionally wrecked. I wasn't in the right head space to give much thought to our relationship."

"So, if I had made a move back then? Would it have made a difference?" He asked. "Because it didn't seem to matter much a few months ago."

This was the real issue at hand.

It was all well and good to talk about the past and how we'd managed to come this far so oblivious to each other's feelings, but the real discussion was where we were at now. And the truth was, that I didn't know.

I opened my mouth to answer, but shut it as my words escaped me. I shifted nervously, shrugging under his stare until a sigh fell from my lips.

"I'm not sure anymore," I admitted. "If you'd told me how you felt back then, if you fought for us to be together then I might've been swayed."

"But now?"

"Now, I think we made the right decision for Grayson."

Chris was still staring me down, his eyes locked on mine as if he was looking into my soul. It was an intensity that was hard to endure and I was relieved when he spoke again, despite how his words made my heart ache.

"But what about the right decision for us?"

"That's not what's important," I insisted. "I've seen so many of my friends struggle through their parents' bitter divorces, I don't want that for Gray. I don't want us to lose our ability to work as a team and put him first."

"Yeah, you mentioned that several times," Chris huffed. "But I don't see why you're so fuckin' convinced that we'd end up hating each other."

His frustration and impatience was shining through and I felt my panic rising again. Chris had made his stance clear and I knew I needed to make a decision soon or my lack of decision would decide for me, but I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The thought of not being with Chris made my heart ache especially now that I knew the extent of his feelings, but the thought of being with him and the consequences that could come from that set every anxious nerve in my body on edge.

I found myself scrambling for something to say that was non-committal, but would placate the situation. I floundered until, fortunately, a tiny voice from the doorway saved me.

"Daddy said a bad word..."

I leapt off the couch, desperate for any excuse to get away and Chris raised his eyebrow at my swift reaction. I ignored him as I looked at Grayson, who was rubbing his eyes with one hand and clutching his bear in the other. He looked so small, standing there in his little flannel pajamas and I smiled at the sight.

"That is a bad word," I agreed. "Daddy shouldn't have said it. But what are you doing up?"

"I had a bad dream."

His voice was small as he was still half asleep and Chris stood, following me over as I walked towards him.

"I'm sorry to hear that, buddy," he said, lifting him up in his arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Grayson shook his head. "It was scary."

"Awe, I'm sorry, sweetheart," I frowned as I rubbed his back, my heart melting at how small he looked in Chris' arms. "Do you want me to tuck you back in or Daddy?"

He rested his head on Chris' chest and pulled his bear so close that his answer got muffled by the stuffed animal's fur.

"I want to sleep in Daddy's bed..."

I looked up at Chris, letting him decide if that was okay, but he was already nodding his head.

"Sure, we can do that," he assured him. "But don't hog all the blankets this time, okay?"

Grayson giggled and I smiled as they headed to the door.

"Goodnight, boys," I called to them before they disappeared. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight." Chris paused to answer me and flashed me a look that made me feel like a schoolgirl being scolded by the principal. "This conversation isn't over."

It felt like a foreboding warning and it left me so flustered that all I could do was nod before he turned and continued on his way to his bedroom.

He was right.

Our conversation couldn't end there unless we wanted another four years of miscommunication and mutual longing, but I didn't know what to do. I wasn't trying to be difficult, but both options seemed destined to lead to heartache. Of course, I had no evidence to prove that we wouldn't live happily ever after, but he was Chris Evans. He was the man that women all over America, all over the world, would kill to be with. And I was just me. Once I fell off whatever pedestal he'd put me on in his mind and he realized how ordinary and unremarkable I was, it wouldn't last.

And I couldn't spend the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

With a sigh, I headed to the stairs. My head was a mess despite my hopes that talking to Chris would bring me some clarity. It seemed I was starting a pattern of coming away from late night conversations with more questions than answers, but I was beginning to think that might be due to the fact that I would never be told what I wanted to hear. No one could make this decision for me and no one could make it a fool proof choice.

There was always a risk when it came to love. I just had to decide if that risk was worth it and start being honest with myself about why I was so scared. Were my intentions really as noble as I wanted everyone to believe? Or was I using Grayson as a shield to protect my own heart from pain as much as his?

Part Four

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #more hearts than mine

168 notes · View notes

etraytin · 2 years

Text

Quarantine Journal

December 30, 2021

I was going to write last night, but I was so mentally fried by the end of the day that I spent the evening watching old Loading Ready Run videos and playing Gardenscapes and it was basically the most I could possibly do. These things happen, I suppose. Anyway, it’s Day 3 now of our weird internal/external quarantine, and like most of the past two years it could be worse but is still shitty.

I’ve been sleeping on the living room sofa for the past two nights, one of those loveseats where both seats recline but you can’t lay across it sort of dealies. It is not terrible. Kiddo’s room is on the other side of the house from our room and I have wanted to be able to hear him in the night, plus I’m really trying to keep Husband clear so he might be able to get to MIL in Asheville sometime soon. She is not doing great, she has pneumonia and has fired her housekeeper/life assistant, and we simultaneously need to be there helping her and need to be absolutely sure we are not exposing her to COVID. Husband’s university has moved classes virtual for the first two weeks of term, so he is hoping that if he can last through the quarantine and not test positive, he can go to his mom’s place for a week and just wear a mask to be on the safe side. That only works if he avoids the germs himself, though.

Yesterday we all got our official tests, rather than just relying on Tuesday’s home tests to tell us if we were positive. This town in Illinois only has about 20k people and testing options are kind of limited, especially if you don’t have a primary care doctor here. The CVS and Walgreens don’t test, and you have to reserve a time at the Urgent Care and that is not easy. We booked an urgent care slot for the kiddo so he could get looked at as well, but the rest of us all went to the DMV. Yes, that seems weird, but welcome to small towns, I guess. Half the DMV building is now a COVID test center where you park, walk up to a window, and they hand you a baggie with a COVID test, instructions, and a small amount of paperwork to fill out. You fill it out, you swab the shit out of your nose, and you turn the whole business back in and sit in your car for fifteen minutes to get the results. Husband, Dad and I all came back negative, but my mom was positive, despite feeling fine.

Took the kiddo to urgent care where, despite a time we reserved almost 24 hours in advance and that was a pain in the ass to get, they told us they were two hours behind and we would have to stay in the parking lot or they would skip us when our turn came up. Apparently they had “like 15 walk-ins an hour ago.” I swear to god I have all the respect in the world for anyone working in health care right now, but if you’re going to be a walk-in clinic, be a walk in clinic. Don’t tell people they can reserve a time and then just lolnope them. If I had known, I’d have had kiddo there when they opened instead of sitting there in the near-dark at 5pm. We had a time reserved for 4:40 and at 5pm there were seven people ahead of us. Anyway, I was polite as I could be when I was so so so mad and had a miserable sick child in the car, and we went to the DMV with him instead. Positive.

The upshot of the whole thing is that now we have two quarantine rooms and a quarantine bathroom in the house. My mom is staying in the office and the kiddo is still in the laundry room. I put the kiddo in the office with her for a few hours so I could air and clean the laundry room (it has an outside door) and do the laundry. With my mom out of commission, I’m now on laundry and meals and kitchen duty along with primary care of the sick duty. It is... not great. Husband is limited in what he can do but has stepped up big time to do all dishes and trash hauling which is exceedingly helpful and keeps him out of the direct line of germs. My dad spent several hours cleaning up the exceedingly disorganized and kind of icky master bathroom so we can take a shower in there if we want to. (The bathroom with the good shower/bath is the quarantine bathroom now, cry!) Other than that, we’re all just... waiting.

Good news is, kiddo is feeling much better now. He felt miserable for the first day, partially miserable for the second day (mostly when he had to be out of bed and traveling around to find a test with me) and this morning he is perky and eating and pleased to be watching videos all day. It looks like while the vaccine didn’t completely shield him, it is going to let him shake the virus quickly. My mom, fully vaxxed and boosted, is still asymptomatic but for a tickle in the throat and a little fatigue. It could be a lot worse. I find it hard not to be aggrieved that after all this we ended up with COVID anyway, but I’m trying to remind myself that this was always the endgame. Even back in 2020, the projection was that eventually COVID-19 would settle in as another one of the coronaviruses, something you got sometimes in the winter and spent a couple days in bed and got better from. That’s what’s happening here. It’s what we wanted, sort of. Still kinda sucks, tbh.

#quarantine journal #covid

16 notes · View notes

harrystylescherry · 4 years

Text

The Quarantine Couch (Harry Blurb)

A/N: First things first, I would like to make a subtle flex and let you know that this is 95% based on the sex I had last night. I literally could not stop thinking about it so I turned it into the filth that is this blurb.

Word count: 2.1k

What it is: filth, bby. we got oral, we got riding, we got railing. all in a cute lil package. enjoy.

MASTERLIST

p.s: this is not proof read so do not come for my neck

You and Harry were staying with your parents for quarantine. It was definitely not the plan, but you had been visiting them when the state’s stay-at-home order took into effect and despite your protests, Harry thought it would be best to stay and not add to the insane number of people still traveling to get to their families when there was no reason to. You had argued that you two had every reason to get on a plane and go somewhere else; he needed to be with his team to sort everything out, he needed to be in a space where he could make music, and you needed to get away from your family.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your family, because you did, but they could be a lot and your house in your small town was small and quarantine didn’t exactly have an end date. Harry swore to you that it would be fine and he guilted you by bringing up the fact that you two never really spent much time with your family despite the two of you dating for almost two years. The condition of your agreement to stay with your family was that you would leave as soon as the stay-at-home order was lifted.

The first two days went fine, but on the third day you tried to initiate sex with Harry and that’s when you learned how badly quarantine was going to suck. Your parents were letting you sleep together in your childhood room after you argued about it for almost an hour, yelling about how you were two grown, mature adults, so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, Harry thought having sex down the hall from your parents was a bit disrespectful. You didn’t have a lock on your door and the walls were thin.

You two had been arguing about it since quarantine started and you had become so sexually frustrated that you wanted to punch him in his pretty face. It had been almost eight weeks since you had touched each other and every time you brought it up, he said “Babe, we’ve gone weeks without sex before. We’ll be fine.” You then had to remind him that it was different because the tour meant not seeing each other. Now, you were sleeping in the same bed every night, but couldn’t touch him. It was torture. You knew it was killing him too; every time he looked at you or touched you in any way, he had to readjust himself. You tried to use his obvious need to your advantage several times, accidentally brushing against him when he was obviously already hard, readjusting the position of your ass when he was cuddling you at night, and stripping in front of him every chance you got--but none of it worked. He was too god damned respectful. Usually, you loved that about him, but now, it had become your least favorite trait.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in the living room, slightly wine drunk and on your third movie of the night. Harry’s arm was thrown around you, his fingertips brushing circles at the back of your neck. If it had been any other time, it would’ve been comforting, but in that moment, it only felt like a tease--everything felt like a tease. Any time he touched you lately, you felt yourself become wet and it was awful because your frustration just kept building and building and you knew there would be no relief.

You leaned into his side and his arm dropped to your shoulder. You placed your hand on his thigh, close to the hard on you knew he had and started rubbing. He leaned over and kissed you on the temple. “If you don’t stop doing that, we’re going to have a serious problem on our hands.” He whispered.

“You could be in my hand?”

He chuckled, “Trust me, I wish I was in a lot of places, namely your mouth, but you know that can’t happen, love.”

You heaved a frustrated sigh and turned to face him, “Harry, come on! I can’t do this anymore. It’s two o’clock in the morning. No one is awake. No one would know.”

“But I would know and I still have to be able look your parents in the eye tomorrow and I can’t do that knowing I fucked their daughter a few feet away from their sleeping bodies.” He twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, “It’s just two more weeks babe. May 15th we can leave. We just have to hold out for two more weeks.”

“Fuck two more weeks.” You said before closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him hard. The two of you had made out in your bed since quarantine started, but it was always soft and slow--this was anything but. You bit at his lip and he groaned before pulling away, “Babe, we can’t.”

“Harry, please.” His hand moved to cup your cheek and you climbed on top of him, making sure to grind against him. He let out a moan and grabbed onto your hips.

“(Y/N).” It was a warning.

“Please.” You fought the pressure of his hands and pushed yourself down against him harder, loving the way he felt against you, despite the layers of fabric in between. You gave him a couple of soft pecks, being sure to say “please” in between each one. “Come on, Harry. I’m literally begging.”

“I know.” He sighed, “Baby...I-” You wrapped your arms around his neck before grinding your hips against his again. “Fuck...fine. Okay. But you have to be quiet, okay?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded, biting your lip and trying to hide your smile. He pulled you off him and motioned for you to lay down on your back with your legs over his lap. He trailed his hand up your bare leg before tugging at the hem of your shorts. He pushed the soft material to the side and let out a small moan when he saw you weren’t wearing any underwear. “You did this shit on purpose, didn’t you?”

You laughed, “It was plan B if you didn’t give in the first time.”

He stared at your folds as you spread your legs slightly further apart. He brushed one finger over the length of you, making you shiver. “You’re soaked.” He licked his lips before readjusting his body and laying down so he was eye level with your clit. He continued to brush his fingers over the length of you lightly and you tried to hold back the moans that were trying to slip out. He leaned in and brushed his nose against your mound before dipping his tongue inside of you.

“Fuck…” You moaned, unable to hold back. After weeks of nothing, the sensation was too much. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you came. He shushed you before going to work on your clit, swiping his tongue over it quickly, sucking and biting. You bit on your lip and tried to keep quiet; you were successful until he pushed two fingers inside of you. Your back arched and you gasped, moving your hips against his tongue and fingers.

“Oh, my god...I’m gonna cum.” Your hands moved down to his hair as you pushed him further into you. You could feel the vibration of his moans against you and he began curling his fingers as they moved inside of you.

“Fuck...Fuck, Harry. Oh, my God.” Your body shook as you came undone, pulling on his hair as he continued to lick you, refusing to let up until your legs were shaking, and you were so sensitive it was almost painful. He gave your mound a kiss before climbing up and hovering over you. He brought his fingers up to your lips, signaling that he wanted you to taste them. You opened your mouth and let him push them inside, sliding them against your tongue as you sucked, pulling out a low moan from him. Once you had licked his fingers clean, you pushed him off of you so he was in sitting position. You scooted off the couch and onto the floor, taking your spot on your knees in front of him.

He watched as you pulled down his sweatpants and grabbed at his hard cock. You brushed your fingers along the shaft, and then over the tip, getting your thumb wet with precum. When you ran your tongue lightly along his length, he moaned and grabbed onto your hair when you took the tip into your mouth, giving it a hard suck. You took him into your mouth as his grip on your hair tightened as you bobbed up and down, making sure to hollow your cheeks, and releasing the tip with a loud ‘pop’.

“Holy...fuck.” He groaned. You went to take him again, but he pulled your hair back and stopped you. “No. Get up here. Now.” Happy to be receiving orders, you obliged and stood up. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you over to him and then down, so you were back to straddling him. He leaned closer and brushed his tongue over your nipple which was still covered by your t-shirt. He continued to lick it and nibble on it, teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore. You reached for the hem and pulled it over your head.

“(Y/N),” Harry chastised, “put your fucking shirt on.”

You bit your lip and smiled, “No.”

One of his hands moved from your hip to your throat and you felt the pressure as his fingers closed down around it. “Baby, put it back on.” You knew it was slightly reckless and that if someone had come down the stairs, you would be entirely fucked, but you were so turned on that you didn’t care--and you could tell that he was too. His hips were bucking slightly to reach yours and his pupils were blown with desire.

“No.” You repeated and his grip on your throat tightened. You let yourself relax down onto his hard length and started moving your hips back and forth. “Fuck.” His head fell back as he kept one hand on your throat and the other moved from your hip to your chest, pulling at and squeezing your nipple. He moved towards the other one and nibbled, periodically letting his tongue slide over it.

You reached behind yourself and grabbed his cock. You gave it a few strokes as you moved your pajama shorts to the side and lined it up with your center.

You stopped and hovered over him, waiting for him to look at you. “Please…” he sighed and you let yourself sink down onto him, letting out a loud moan.

His hand moved from your throat to the back of your neck and he pulled you into him so that his shoulder would muffle your moans. You moved your hips against his at a slow pace as he bit into your shoulder and gripped onto your hips so hard that you were sure there would be bruises.

“Faster…” He said as he kissed and sucked on your neck.

“No.” You sighed as you felt your mound brush against his skin.

He didn’t say anything in return. Instead, he gripped onto your body and turned the two of you so you were on your back on the couch. You let out a small squeal of surprise before he slammed his lips down against yours. Making sure not to break the kiss, he moved one of your legs over his shoulder. “When I tell you to go faster, you fucking go faster.” He let out a low groan as he slammed into you. His thrusts were hard and fast and you could feel it every time his tip managed to hit your g-spot. You were gripping onto his t-shirt as his hand moved over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Fuck, (Y/N). I wanna cum.”

You nodded your head and gave him permission, since his hand was still covering your mouth.

He moved his hand and fell into you, burying his face into your neck as his thrusts became sloppy and his moans became louder.

“Fuck, baby. I’m cumming.” He groaned into your neck as your hands went into his hair. You felt him release inside of you and he slowed down his thrusts, riding out his orgasm.

For a moment, he laid on top of you, still inside of you and brushed his fingers over your sensitive nipples. He placed a few kisses on your neck before moving to your ear.

“Can you put your fucking shirt on now?” He chuckled and you joined in, before placing a tired kiss to his hair.

2K notes · View notes

pixieungerstories · 3 years

Text

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days. I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it. It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home. The conference calls helped me feel sane. After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream. I was pretending, though. I still hadn’t tried to open the closet. Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate. My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house. Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house. I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow. Some of the flowers were even pretty. I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over. We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room. Once again, I failed. I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.” There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark. “I can’t leave either,” he whispered. I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed. I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden. If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off. But you were fixing things, so I let you stay. I got used to you being around. Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die. I would have gone back to being on my own. I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave. I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer. I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued. “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out. I can’t exactly get a new one just now. Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

Except for when I almost fell, I thought. You caught me then. And my laptop. I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either. I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease. How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled. I stood there in the dark and silence. The house was silent. I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here. “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer. Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself. I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven. The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left. I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking. I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from. Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him. Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed. Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me. I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar. Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought. There was still no way to say that and sound sane. I went with a modified version of the truth. “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break-ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that. Good day.” Then he left. Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was. He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins. It was looters. The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit. The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry. I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it. I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands. I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears. His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back. Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow. I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head. Under the covers looking at the ceiling. Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in. I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me. Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast. I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine. I was still in my house. I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news. Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day. It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside. The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs. It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step. I swore. Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door. I sighed and turned on the lights. I decided to be proactive this time. I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back. I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister. Then nothing. I carefully inched my way upstairs. I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble. To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I’m anxious and keyed up. I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded. Four hands stroking me over my clothes. A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle. Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair. I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline. Any time I reached out for him he pulled away. Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted. “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house? Weeks? Months? None of this seems real anymore. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either. I just need … something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then. Most people don’t last much more than a month or two. Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in. It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners. You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it. I need you to finish fixing the place first. Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.” He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #monster boyfriend #shadow monster

44 notes · View notes

tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Little Gems

Hi all ... it’s been awhile ... but i just can’t leave Mulder and Scully alone for long ...

Sorry about that ... the kid has a new baking business she’s running out of our kitchen (she’s 16, btw) ... we COVID-quarantine finished our basement ... I rewrote my entire third novel ... I’ve had things to do :)

Love and hug and enjoy ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Little Gems

It was the look that made her stumble on her words, stutter through two syllables, hesitate on the third before rallying to pull herself back to the courtroom. Face flaming hot in an instant, she hid her clenched fists below the wooden barrier and carried on, trooper that she was.

His look.

In the middle of her sentence, she’d looked at him, the quickest of glances to see his encouraging lip twitch or the barest of nods … instead, she’d gotten popping jaw muscle, flaring nostril, and furrowed brow. She’d done her stumble because, without thought to present day for half a second, she’d rewound the past two minutes in her head. What the hell had she done to deserve that pointedly angry look?

For the next 43 minutes, she steamed slowly while her demeanor revealed nothing, back to calm, cool, collected, cadence smooth, sentence structure sound. Finally free, she moved past Mulder, dodging the crowd in the hall and slipping through his fingers as he reached for her arm, elbow, to turn her, yell at her for not saying some theory or other of his that would have gotten the case thrown out but allowed Mulder the righteous indignation of his truth.

“Hang on.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

&&&&&&&&

Continuing through the crowd at a pace not meant for five o’clock on a Thursday afternoon near a Metro station, she didn’t care that he’d driven her there. She didn’t care that her ring of keys was in his pocket. She didn’t care that her stomach needed food, her brain needed a drink, her sweet tooth needed several dozen peanut M&Ms. She did care that she had approximately $10 in her pocket, which was more than enough to get her home and she had no room for anymore cares at the moment.

She always knew that house key tucked and forgotten behind her badge would come in handy.

She would be seeing his ass tomorrow and not a moment sooner.

Mulder, on the other hand, stood there watching her storm away. Not quite sure why she was so angry with herself over a few misspoken words but the set of her shoulders and the way she threw out the ‘see you tomorrow’ told him if he did indeed see or talk to her before tomorrow, he’d possibly and probably walk away with one less appendage, be it finger or more important things.

Watching her until she disappeared into the Metro Station, he noted it contained a Blue Line so, knowing she’d get home via either Foggy Bottom or Rosslyn station, he let her go, knowing she had a key behind her badge and her emergency cash behind that.

His mind wouldn’t let it go, however. She’d been good. Damn good. Until her stumble, which, for reasons unknown to him, had made her angry. She had hesitated on two words, taken a quarter second deeper inhale than usual before she gathered and continued. He highly doubted anyone but himself had noticed but given it was Scully, she probably imagined she’d screwed everything up completely.

He chewed on this as he returned to his car, unhurried because, regardless of if he ran or crawled, he’d still be stuck in some kind of traffic between here and there.

&&&&&&&&

Scully, for her part, hated the crowds in the Metro, disliked strangers pressed this close to her, shuffled together with the unwashed masses of society, tourist and native alike, all collectively tired from their day and frustrated same as she with the swaying train and the endless wait to put on comfortable clothing and take a deep breath.

And it afforded her time to analyze Mulder’s look.

Which is exactly what she did not need at this point in time.

&&&&&&&&&&

Both moved several times during the evening to pick up the phone, find out what the other was thinking but in the end, Mulder fell asleep on his couch, worried about her, and Scully fell asleep on hers, angry at him.

&&&&&&&&&&

He honestly thought the next day would be okay. She would have spent the evening picking apart her testimony and should have, logically, arrived at the conclusion that she’d done nothing to hinder anything. He would be telling her that today when she walked in, deciding at 5:42am, while shaving, that a little reassurance would be an appropriate thing.

She walked in still irritated but hiding it … not so very well ... but well enough to return his greeting and nod when he told her she’d done fine the day before and not to sweat the stumble.

Her mug got set no so gently down on the edge of the desk , tea splashing out the sides.

All right.

Plan B.

Waiting until she’d wiped up the carnage of her very own personal DC Tea Party, he handed her her keys from the day before, “come on. We’re taking the day off.”

With a sigh, “we can’t.”

“After your stellar week with Kersh and Skinner, you deserve diamonds and ice cream. Come on.”

Fuck it. It was Friday. Why not follow? God know, she could just as easily be irritated with him outside as she could be in the confines of the basement.

&&&&&&&&&

“Are you kidding?”

“When is the last time you touristed DC? I mean, like, looked around and went to stuff and stared at it and read the little signs and learned something from what you read on those little signs?”

Another sigh, “it’s been awhile.”

“Then come on.” They walked over to the Mall, then Mulder tuned them to the Museum of Natural History.

Seeing the building and the crowd, “Mulder, it’s going to be packed in there.”

“Not where we’re going.” Up the steps, weaving through throngs in shorts and gym shoes, flipflops and sunglasses, they stood out like a tandem sore thumb, leather heels and barely there hose, Trinity tie knot and tartan pattern socks.

They drew more than a few stares. Thank God he’d left his suit jack behind.

Once they’d dropped the donation fee and flashed badges for guns, he led her past the dinosaur bones and then up to the second floor. Even though she wasn’t exactly happy, she had to ask, “um, you realize you passed the T-Rex, right?”

“He’s not going anywhere, Scully. I’ll see him on the way out.”

She hadn’t been to the second floor since, well, she wasn’t even sure what was on the second floor or if she’d ever been there at all, to be honest. Mulder turned her when they got out of the elevator and before she knew it, she was in a quiet area, glass cases surround her, a few people milling but the majority still downstairs with the bones and fossils.

“There’s nothing like the gem room in the morning.”

She fell in love as she took her first good look around. Minerals and elements and crystals along the walls, lights dimmed in spots, a sign for the Hope Diamond beckoning. Looking up at him, “how long has this been here?”

He laughed, quietly of course, because the area felt akin to a church or other place where silence and low murmurs were preferred over screaming children and echoing chaos, “the building, since around 1910, but the contents,” pretending to do some heavy math, using all his fingers and some of hers just for fun, “longer than that.”

Her crank meter dropped like a rock but some remained, “one day I’ll find you funny.”

Taking her elbow and feeling happy she didn’t jerk away from him, he led her towards the wall, “first, I’m going to take you on a tour of the blue section.”

“Are we dispensing with scientific names today? Will it be the green shiny ones and the square yellow ones and the ones that look like table salt but will kill you instantly if you ever tried to put them on a piece of corn on the cob?”

“One day, I’ll find you funny as well.”

They wandered in somewhat comfortable silence, sharing the oft-comment of ‘this one’s pretty’, ‘this one’s three trillion years old’ …

“Three billion, Mulder.”

“Once you get above a couple million, it’s all just really damn old and doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you sure you passed your science classes in high school?”

“Cute girls helped me cheat.”

She didn’t doubt it.

&&&&&&&&

Round about an hour later, while looking intently at the diamonds, Scully finally had to ask, her anger drained away, an empty hole left behind waiting to be filled with some kind of explanation. Standing beside him, hand resting lightly on the edge of the case, she asked in a soft voice, “why did you get angry at me yesterday while I was on the stand?”

What?!

“What?!”

“Right before I humiliated myself by not being able to say the word ‘epiglotal’, I looked at you and you were pissed at me.”

What?!

“God, Scully, no. No. I wasn’t mad at you at all. You were doing great.” He was leaning into her at this point, the intensity radiating off him enough to send world leaders to their knees in fear and her cheeks to warm at his proximity, “I wasn’t mad at you at all, I swear.”

Still quiet, “then what were you mad about?”

Talking at the glass but catching her reflection beside him, he felt like an idiot but didn’t think this was the time to attempt a lie, “um, the little shit paralegal behind me was whispering to his buddy about things he could imagine doing to you if he could get you alone in the closet in the hall for a few minutes.” She stayed silent as he stood there, feeling his stupidity growing in leaps and bounds, until he had to do something. Moving his hand closer, he reached out until he found her pinkie, hooking it with his momentarily, “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m sorry I messed things up.”

Sliding her hand out from him a second later, she moved it to his back, running fingers along the indent of his spine, up and down, down and up, stopping to palm his side before letting her arm dangle between them, “it’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t irritated with me. I should have asked you sooner, I guess, instead of letting things fester in my head.”

Her touch sent his skin buzzing, his hand always on her back, but hers rarely on his, and he knew she felt his quick breath in but both ignored that for now, “just to let you know, I’d have throttled him had we not been sitting in front of that many lawyers and the judge.”

She finally smiled, the left side of her mouth turning up, “I’d have liked to have seen that.”

Going for broke, he moved his hand to her elbow, then slid it down, working his fingers into hers, as he leaned in a second time, a little bit closer, a little bit quieter, “jealousy is an ugly thing, Scully, let me tell you.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Finally, finally, finally meeting his reflection, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Now warm from head to toe, “since I’ve already showed you the diamonds, how about I go get you that ice cream now?”

“In a few minutes.” Wrapping her free arm around the one holding her hand, she whispered over to him, “I kind of like it here.”

#msr #xfiles fanfic #x-files fanfic #no mama scully but peanut M&Ms so that's something #i miss the smithsonian and dc and travel #diamonds and ice cream #i think i like it here too #My writing

73 notes · View notes

whiskery-louis · 3 years

Text

Surprise

**as you all will come to find out I am a die hard Louis girl and I just had this idea stuck in my head all day. Hope you like it!

*Louis Tomlinson x reader

*little bit of smut at the end

*please give feedback and interact with any of my work! means so much

One more day, just one more day until you would get to see Louis. You kept repeating this over to yourself in your head as you made another call at work. The only thing getting you through the monotony of your day was that you were seeing him in only 24 hours. Due to Covid your relationship had come to a halt, the two of you were only casually seeing each other for about three months due to his job, but you knew you wanted it to be more. And then out of nowhere the whole world shut down and you suddenly had to endure months of facetimes and texting. All you had wanted was him to ask you to fly out and stay with him, but he had Freddie and you knew he had to put his child's safety above yours.

Thankfully the clocked ticked to 5:00pm and you were done for the day. You slammed the lid of your laptop closed as you made your way to the kitchen to look for some dinner and pour yourself a glass of wine.

Hey love, how was your day?

Your phone chimed from the counter, you saw his name and a small smile spread over your lips. You replied with a photo of your glass and a thumbs down emoji. Before you even had the chance to put your phone down his face lit up the screen.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern clearly written across his face.

“Just the usual, getting yelled at by customers for doing my job and not getting enough support from management.” you sighed. “It’s exhausting. I don’t even like my job Lou but it pays so well for me only just being out of school.”

“I’m sorry love. I wish I could be there to cheer you up.”

“It’s okay Louis, I get to see you tomorrow and nothing else matters today.”

At the mention of your trip his face dropped, your heart sinking along with it. You instantly knew something was wrong.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “Brianna doesn’t think it’s a good idea. She said if I go she doesn’t know if she’ll want me to see Freddie unless I quarantine after. She doesn’t want to risk him getting sick and honestly I don’t either. It would kill me if he got Covid because of me.”

Your heart felt heavy, and you felt the tears prick the back of your eyes. “Oh,” you muttered. “I get it Lou, of course I do. Freddie’s health has to come first. We can reschedule...again.”

“Hey now, I didn’t say I was canceling.” A small frown forming on his lips.

“You didn’t have to,” you said sadly. “It’s Freddie, and I wouldn’t want him to get sick, or you, or Brianna because of a silly trip.”

“No don’t say that, it’s more than just a silly trip Y/N. But it's also not the safest time.” He sighed again running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m so sorry babe, I know how much you were looking forward to your time away. I was too, god I just want to be with you. Fuck Covid.”

You had a sad smile on your lips as you picked up your glass and took a large sip. “You can say that again,” you scoffed involuntarily. “Really Louis, we can figure something else out when things clear up. I’ll call Sara and see if she can get off and we can do a winery trip or something. But I gotta go, I wanted to get a walk in before it starts to rain. I’ll call you later.”

You gave him another small smile before ending the call. You finished the rest of your wine and headed into your bedroom to change before heading out. You had lied to get off the phone, but part of you hoped that a walk would clear your mind but all it did was give you more time to wallow in your disappointment.

It felt like all the joy that had been building over the past weeks was just sucked out of you. It was going on four months of not seeing him and you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to do this. The two of you had only been seeing each other for about three months before quarantine happened, and since then you had only been able to hang out about five times, never for longer than a week at a time. It wasn’t the ideal way to begin a relationship, and honestly you weren’t even sure where you stood with him. The two of you had never actually put a label on what you were doing. You wanted more, you wanted all of him and wanted to give him all of you, but the universe seemed to be doing everything in its power to keep you apart.

And you wanted to be mad at him, you really did, but you knew the concerns were valid. It was always the same promises you made each other only for them to be broken. Sighing you headed back home, planning to finish the bottle of wine you opened and drown your sorrows with some ice cream.

I canceled the Airbnb, I’m so sorry babe. We’ll figure something out soon. Xx

His text sent you over the edge, and you turned your phone off as the tears began falling down your face. You kept reminding yourself that you weren’t even officially dating but he still managed to consume your every thought. You were planning on talking to him about it on your trip and now you lost your chance. It wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have over the phone.

You put Criminal Minds on knowing a rom-com would just make you more upset due to your weak emotional state. “Fuck Covid,” you muttered to yourself as you stuffed your face with ice cream.

Six episodes and two bottles of wine later and you managed to stop feeling sad. You fumbled for your phone in the dark trying to figure out how late it was. You cursed as you hit your hand on the edge of the coffee table.

“Alexa lights on,” at the sound of your voice the string lights illuminated your small living room. Where the fuck did you put your phone, you threw the blankets you were using on the floor and heard a thud. “Found it,” you muttered. You turned it back on and were shocked that you had no missed messages or calls from Louis, you just assumed he was taking the time to process his feelings just like you were. You were also surprised to see that it was past 10 pm. You were so enthralled in your show that you lost track of time. Thankfully it was Friday and you could sleep in tomorrow. You began cleaning up your mess before heading for bed.

As soon as you entered your room you heard knocking on your front door. You instantly looked around for a weapon, since you spent the night watching a show about serial killers you assumed the worst. You panicked and grabbed the lamp off your bedside table. As you were inching your way down the hallway the person knocked again.

You reached the door and bent slightly to look out the peephole.

“Fuck!” you yelled as you put the lamp down and all but ripped the door off the frame. “Louis! What are you doing here?” you threw yourself at him.

“Oh fuck its so good to see you,” he kissed the top of your head through his mask.

You pulled back and looked up at him in amazement. “I don’t understand, how are you here? After our call I never expected…” you trailed off at a loss for words.

“Well are you going to let me in?” he chuckled as you moved over and pulled him in and shut the door behind him. He looked around your house with a slight smile on his face.

“What’s the look for?”

“This is exactly how I pictured your place to be.” he had taken his mask off and shoved it in his pockets and you could see that he had a slight stubble coming in.

“Well you have seen it in photos and during our video calls.”

He laughed slightly as he shrugged his jacket and shoes off. “I know but it's the little things. Like the photos on the wall, the five blankets on your couch. Everything just has your touch to it. It's perfect.” he ended his little speech as his eyes fell back on you, the smile so huge on his face that it gave him the cutest crinkles around his eyes.

His beauty took your breath away and you could feel the tears pricking at the back of your eyes again. He sensed the change in your mood instantly.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong?” his hands engulfed yours, pulling you down onto the couch with him.

“I just can’t believe you are here and I’m not dreaming. How did this happen?”

You leaned into his side, tracing the tattoos on his arms that were wrapped around you. You had never been more content in your life, this is all you had wanted all throughout quarantine and he was finally here.

“Something didn’t feel right after our call earlier. I just knew that I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. Covid has messed enough up for us and I wasn’t going to let it ruin another weekend.”

“But what about Freddie?”

“I called Brianna before I bought my ticket and we agreed as long as I don’t go anywhere and test negative when I go back, that I could still see him and not have to wait the 14 days. So I booked the next flight and here I am.”

“So you mean to tell me that we’re gonna be stuck inside the whole time you are here?”

He was looking at you so intently as he answered, “I hope that’s okay with you Y/N. I have missed you so much since the last time we were together and I need to see you, to be with you. I-I...my feelings for you are very apparent when we are apart and I’m not the best with words but I want to be with you. I want you to be mine Y/N.”

You were floored at his words. Louis had never been one to openly express how he was feeling, it was always like pulling teeth. And through all the curveballs that had been thrown at you over the past few months you would have never guessed that he felt this way. You looked up at him, his eyes searching your face for a reaction.

“Y/N please say something.”

You reached up and pulled his face down to you, your lips attaching to his. He pulled you closer as he deepened the kiss, his hands rubbing circles on your lower back. You broke away resting your forehead on his.

“Louis I am all in, I always have been. I’ve been wanting you to say that for so long.” you kissed him again. “You are all I have ever wanted”

The grin that lit up his face was contagious and you knew you had a similar one plastered on yours.

“This is just the beginning for us love,” he pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head once more. “If we can make it through these past months, we can make it through anything. As long as we are together that is all I need.”

You just nodded in agreement, placing a light kiss on his chest.

“You know Louis, there is one thing that could make this night better.” you looked up at him with a smirk on your face.

“Oh hmm, and what would that be?”

“Why don’t you follow me?” you stood up coyly and grabbed his hand so he would come with you to your room.

He stopped short leaning against your bedroom door. You looked back at him in confusion. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“What do you want to do to make this night better?” there was a huskiness to his voice that hadn't been there previously.

Two can play at this game you thought. You met his glare with a smirk on your face, your hands went down to the hem of your sweatshirt and you slowly pulled it over your head so you were standing in front of him in only a pair of shirts, your breasts on full display.

“I want you to fuck me Louis. I want your hands all over me, I want you to show me what I’ve been missing these last four months. I want you inside me.”

Your eyes still locked on him, you slowly pulled your shorts down and as you threw them across the room, Louis closed the gap between the two of you, his mouth finding yours as his hands were on your body. One on your hip, pulling you close to him and the other massaging your breast.

Normally the two of you would engage in mind blowing foreplay but there was no need tonight. It had been a long four months apart and soon Louis was filling you up and you were moving along with him. The sex was always good between the two of you but tonight was something more.

“Faster,” you muttered against his lips, your hands were wrapped around his backs leaving marks to claim him as yours.

“Fuck Y/N,” he breathed into your neck as he burried himself further into you.

“I’m almost there Louis.”

He picked his head up and locked eyes with you as his pace increased. “I know baby me too, let go.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, the two of you releasing at the same time.

He pulled himself out and rolled onto the bed next to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Ya know love, I have to give it to you, that did make tonight better.”

“Mhm,” you sighed as you rolled your eyes and moved closer to him. “I’m so glad you’re here Louis. Best surprise ever.”

#louis #louis tomlinson #louistomlinson #louis imagine #louis tomlinson imagine #louis one shot #harry imagine #niall imagine #liam imagine #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction imagine #imagine

41 notes · View notes

grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 4 years

Text

“It Was Hard To Breathe, And She Called To Me” -- Cordelia Goode x Reader

Long story short, I had a lot of feelings and anxieties about coronavirus when everything got bad back in March, and this was the product of that. I wasn’t going to post it (for multiple reasons), but after revisiting it I changed my mind. Hopefully it isn’t too rough!

Words: ~3,600

Warnings: Coronavirus, panic attacks, anxiety, hyperventilating, scratching (if anything about wearing masks or claustrophobia triggers you, I would skip this one!)

~Enjoy, my little peaches!~

It hadn’t hit you. The severity of it all, the effect all of this was having on the simplest things. Holed up in the academy, it hadn’t affected your day to day life, besides not being able to go out. Cordelia had strictly enforced the quarantine, but she didn’t let you girls go out during the week anyway, and your weekends were usually spent in her bed, the only real alone time the two of you got nowadays.

It made the sneaking around more fun, though, having to dodge prying eyes all seven days of the week. Never getting a break from the questions and the constant knocking on Cordelia’s door. Only able to steal kisses in the fleeting moments before dinner or deep into the night.

You had been so wrapped up in everything with Cordelia and so dead set on not watching the news, that you didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until you actually stepped foot in a grocery store.

You were all on a rotating schedule for groceries and errands, but so many girls had joined recently and Cordelia always needed you for something else, so you hadn’t gone out for groceries for roughly two and a half months. Until today.

It was Coco’s turn, but she had come down with a cough and Delia refused to let her leave her room. Nothing serious, she had said, but she wouldn’t let her leave if her immune system was even the slightest bit compromised.

You had volunteered to go, and Cordelia had looked at you with frantic eyes, but when Mallory innocently offered to cover your chores, there was no arguing, and before you knew it you were masked and gloved and fighting the New Orleans heat to get to the store.

The streets were empty, a few leaves blowing across the sidewalk in front of you the only sound. It made the hair at the back of your neck stand up, this once lively city now stark still and abandoned. But you brushed the uneasiness away, trudging along and relishing the air conditioning once you arrived.

Everything had gone well at first. You dug out your list, scratching a few things off quickly as you pulled them from the shelves. But then you were tasked with getting meat, and when you walked down the aisle, everything was gone. There were two containers of wrapped salmon, and that was it. No chicken, no beef, no pork. And you couldn’t pick up the salmon because one of the new girls had a fish allergy.

Twenty minutes later and you had found someone to help you, had had a garbled exchanged through your respective masks, and were waiting for them to pack you some new meat. Luckily, when you mentioned the school they recognized you and were willing to help.

After that it was toilet paper and napkins, but that aisle was also practically empty. Signs were put up saying “one of each”, so you grabbed whatever you could find. No hand soap, no disinfecting wipes.

What felt like hours later, you were snug in your place marker on the floor, waiting to check out. Tugging at your mask and cursing the stupid thing for exacerbating the heat and making the air entirely too thick. You swallowed down the thought that you couldn’t breathe, pushing a panic attack out of your mind.

You can breathe. It’s just fabric. Doctors do this all the time.

The woman at the register barely talked to you, only enough to tell you that you had to choose between the toilet paper and the napkins. When you referenced the sign, she clarified that it meant one of any, not one of each.

You shook your head incredulously as you thought about how sad it was that the world had come to this, and inevitably took too long to make a decision between the two.

Ultimately, the toilet paper won out. It should have been a no-brainer, given how many girls lived in that house, but somehow, with the panic attack ebbing and falling in your chest, you couldn’t think straight.

Your heart was pounding by the time the cashier finished scanning and bagging your items, and you tugged at your mask as it slid down your nose with your soft panting.

You remembered when Cordelia had given it to you, smiling as you tried it on for the first time. She had told you it suited you, and you grinned in the mirror because the blue pattern did look good against your skin.

That had been almost nine weeks ago. It hadn’t seemed that long, hadn’t seemed that bad. All you had used it for were your weekly walks with your girlfriend, and even then, you were more focused on her hand in yours and how her eyes crinkled around her own mask to notice.

But now, as you tapped your phone to the keypad and waited for it to process your payment, time started to stretch around you, the past lengthening as the cashier printed your receipt.

By the time you had left the store, the stress of the world was making the air press in around you.

And by the time you made it back to the iron gates of the academy, the panic had completely overtaken you.

Your arms were scratched raw, bags dragging you down and making you feel trapped in your own body. Your gloves were gone, torn through and lost somewhere along the way. The heat amplified the pounding of your heart, sweat pricking your neck as your head churned around the thought that you couldn’t breathe, there was no air.

Somehow you found your way to the kitchen, dropping the bags on the counter as the room spun around you. And when the girls started to trickle in and dig through the bags, you pushed past them. You needed to get out. You needed to be alone. You needed to breathe.

They called after you, voices echoing against the high ceilings of the building, and you dug your fingers into your hair and pulled, desperate for the pain to distract you from your thoughts.

But you didn’t even feel it, the room tilting and spinning and making you stumble against the walls.

You found the door to your room on instinct, reaching for the knob and pushing against it desperately when it didn’t budge. You froze, choking on your breath, but then you registered that you had to turn the handle. Then you would be safe. It would be quiet and calm and no one would find you.

No one would find you.

You could choke and suffocate and have a heart attack, and no one would know.

You twisted, pushed, and the door unstuck, hand slamming hard against wood as you desperately threw it open.

The door banged against the wall and you flinched, pushing your hands against your ears as your eyes frantically searched the room for somewhere to sit. Somewhere to stay. Somewhere to hide.

Quiet, quiet, quiet.

You needed quiet.

The only thing you could register was your breathing, hard and fast and out of control. It was out of control. You were out of control.

The room was too hot and you couldn’t get enough air in and you thought you might suffocate, your chest tightening as you pulled and tugged and scratched at your ankles.

You hadn’t realized you had curled in on yourself, pressed against the wall beside your dresser, but it felt better like this. Safer like this. If you could get down low and tuck yourself away, the world would melt down and nothing could hurt you.

Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch.

Footsteps broke through your racing thoughts, steady at first until something clattered to the floor. You flinched at the sound and suddenly heels were clicking roughly against the wood, closer and closer and louder and louder.

You whimpered, digging your face further down between your knees.

“Y/N?”

The voice was warm, panicked, and hands on your shoulders made you cry out, breath wheezing as you struggled to breathe faster, take in more air.

There was no air in this room. There was no air on this earth.

The harder you sucked air in, the tighter your chest constricted, pushing it back out of your body and leaving your mind spinning with a lack of oxygen.

When the person spoke again they sounded farther away, muffled, their words barely seeping into your brain between the pounding of blood in your ears.

“Look at…don’t…slow down….I’ve got…you can…why don’t…can you….”

You whined against the sound, fingers digging into your scalp. And you hadn’t registered your hands over your ears until they were being pulled down and away and the world was forced back into full stereo around you.

“Y/N, look at me, breathe, you’re alright.”

“No no no no no,” you started, batting at their hands and digging your palms back over your ears as you rocked.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just me. It’s me.” Cooing, shushing, pulling for your hands again. Gentler, calmer. Slowly peeling them off of your ears and smoothing them down onto your knees.

“Stupid stupid stupid stupid,” you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as warm hands enveloped yours, tracking small circles over the back of your wrists.

“No, Y/N. You’re not stupid. Shhh. You’re not stupid.”

Suddenly there were thumbs tracing your palms, rubbing lines and patterns firmly into them. And it grounded you enough that you registered the voice that was talking to you.

You lifted your head from your knees and looked up with bleary eyes, the room swimming around you as tears streaked down your face. You blinked against them, the light refracting in them too much of a sensory overload.

But then there were fingers there, wiping at your cheeks and clearing your vision, so soft and so tender.

And she was there. Right there. Close enough that she could reach every inch of you, but far enough to give you space to breathe.

Something shiny glinted behind her and you glanced over, registering a tray and a shattered tea cup laying abandoned in the doorway.

Your breathing quickened again at the thought that you had done that. She had dropped that tray because of you. Shattered the cup because of you. A mess. Everything was a mess. You were a mess, that was a mess, the world was a mess.

“Shhh shh shh,” she cooed, pressing her hands hesitantly to your cheeks, the warmth distorted by something rough. “It’s okay. None of that. I’m right here. Take a deep breath.”

Something inside of you shattered with her words, heart plummeting as your chest constricted again. You clawed at your shirt, heat pressing in on you again.

“I- I can’t,” you choked out, pulling and yanking at your collar to force space around you. “I c-can’t breathe, Delia.”

Her name was more of a plea than anything else. Desperation to fix everything, fix the thickness of the air, fix the panic coursing through your veins, fix—

She shushed you again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Sweet girl, let’s take this off, alright?”

And you nodded, assuming she meant your shirt. Assuming she was trying to help you cool off.

But fingers behind your ears startled you, and your eyes flashed open, frantic as they searched her face. She only smiled, soft and delicate as her fingers dug under elastic and pulled, looping the bands of your mask from around your ears and pulling the fabric away.

You sucked air in like you hadn’t breathed in a thousand years, hands flying out to her shirt and grounding yourself in the satin there. And then you blinked, heart rate slowing as she folded the mask in front of you and set it down.

You hadn’t realized you had still been wearing it.

You hadn’t even thought.

Her hand on your chin caught your attention and she tipped your face up so that you were looking her in the eye.

“Better?” she murmured, eyes soft as she tried to gauge your reaction.

And tears pooled in your eyes because it was. Infinitely. But not because your mask was gone. It was better because she was here.

Your breaths stuttered and you sniffed, and then Cordelia was right there, hands cupping your face.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Her brows pushed up as she searched your eyes, and then she pulled your head to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

You grounded yourself against the feel of her, her heartbeat quick against your cheek, and you could feel her heavy breathing as yours finally slowed.

Her fingers tracked over your spine, tapping as they hit the bumps of your vertebrae, one by one. She cooed at you, she shushed you, she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, her other hand skimming through your hair.

Suddenly the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, and just like that, the world felt normal again. Everything aligning and righting and slowing down around you.

And you broke.

You cried for what could have been hours, gripping your fingers further into her shirt and twisting and folding and rubbing the fabric together against the pads of your fingers. And all the while she sat with you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair and rocking you softly, back and forth and back and forth.

By the time your sobs subsided into sniffles you could hear the girls bustling downstairs, pots clattering somewhere in the distance and soft arguments drifting up the stairs.

Cordelia didn’t pull away, though. Her grip on you stayed constant, wrapped tightly in her arms as her chest pushed into yours with every breath.

She let you break the embrace, sniffing as you pushed a kiss to her jaw and pulled away to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” you started, the only words you could comprehend after your brain had churned itself inside out.

“No no,” she chided, finger coming up to shush you. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I—“

She cut you off again, leaning forward and brushing her lips over your nose. “No.”

You swallowed, nodding softly as she stared you down, a small smile on her lips as she almost dared you to try again.

You cleared your throat, coughing lightly. “I didn’t know I would have such an issue going out.”

She nodded, brow creasing as her thumb came up to wipe a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t realized you were crying again.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she tried, head tilting.

You shook your head, unsure that you would be able to put your feelings into words. But somehow they fell out of your mouth anyway.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” you started, fingers tapping against Cordelia’s arm as the empty aisles and numbered tiles flashed through your mind again. “I mean, I had heard you all talking about it, but I brushed it off as nothing. I didn’t— But being there, finding half of the grocery list out of stock… What is happening to this country?”

Your voice cracked as your breaths started to wheeze, eyes searching Cordelia’s face frantically as you shook your head.

But she shushed you before you could work yourself up again, pressing her hand against your chest and splaying out her fingers.

“Look at me,” she said gently, eyes soft. You did. “Put your hand on my heart, darling. Okay?”

You nodded, reaching up and mimicking her, spreading your fingers out and pressing in until you found her heartbeat. The feel of it grounded you, and you noted that it was pounding quickly beneath her ribcage.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, eyes flicking up to hers. All she did was smile, pressing firmly against your chest.

“Breathe with me, darling. Can you do that? Breathe with me.”

Her thumb tapped against your chest and you felt it reverberate through you, slowing your heart rate.

“In for four,” Cordelia started, her thumb tapping four times, slowly.

You complied, inhaling in time with her.

“Hold for four,” she said, searching your face as her thumb tapped four more times.

You held her gaze, your heart rate slowing as you held your breath.

“And out for eight,” she sighed, releasing a long breath as her thumb tapped eight times.

You watched her as you deflated, the way she was holding onto your eye contact like a lifeline. The way her brow was creased down the middle, just barely. The way color had risen into her cheeks, flushing them a dark pink.

“There,” she tried, leaning into your hand on her chest.

There was a long silence, you relishing the way her hand felt against you, relishing the steadiness of her breathing, the warmth seeping through her shirt.

When you looked back up at her, you realized she hadn’t moved her gaze from your face the entire time. Guilt washed through you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you started, hand falling from her chest. But before you knew what was happening, she had scooped it up in both of hers and pushed it back into place.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said softly, offering you a reassuring smile.

You tilted your head, brow furrowing.

“You worried the hell out of me, but you didn’t scare me.”

You laughed then, something light expanding out through your chest. And then you were practically tackling her in a hug, wrapping your arms around her shoulders as you squeezed her to you and settled down in her lap.

“How are you always so strong?” you asked softly, nuzzling your nose against her pulse point. Her hands found your hair on instinct, threading through your curls.

“I’m not,” she answered quietly, and you hummed as she trailed off. A moment later she found her voice, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You say that I’m strong, but I’m just as frightened as you.”

You pulled back, brow furrowed. “Delia…”

“What gets me through, though,” she continued, fingers trailing from your hair back down to your heart, “is this.”

You blinked at her, nose twitching. “My heartbeat?”

She nodded, pulling your hand back to her chest. “Do you feel that?”

“Of course,” you replied, fingers twitching on her shirt.

“That is all that matters right now. Alright?”

You shook your head, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand…”

She leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss between your brows. “This heartbeat, your heartbeat,” she started, fingers fidgeting against your chest, “is the only thing that matters to me. We do the best we can, day by day. We count our blessings and help people who are suffering. And that’s it. That’s all that’s in our control.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You hummed, pushing your forehead against hers and melting into the feel of her. The comfort of her so close, so strong.

Her nose brushed against yours as she spoke again, breaking the silence that had settled.

“We are healthy, we are safe. And that is all that matters.”

You nodded, fingers finding her shoulders and scratching lightly in acknowledgement. You felt her sigh, and you let out a long breath, the pressure and stress of the day finally deflating out of you and leaving you weak and pliable in her arms.

Cordelia nudged her nose against yours, prompting your eye contact. She watched you, eyes lidded and questioning, and waited for your soft nod. And as she leaned in and kissed you, softly, gently, purposeful and delicate, you realized that she was absolutely correct. As long as you had her, nothing else mattered.

She cupped your cheek as she deepened the kiss and you parted your lips, moaning at the comfort of her and the warmth that was pooling through you at her touch. The familiarity. The inevitable protection that came with it.

Before you knew what was happening your hands were up under her shirt, sitting straighter in her lap so you could roll your hips down over hers. Her mouth was locked to your neck and your eyes were screwed shut. Until you heard a thump outside the door and a soft “Miss Cordelia?”

Your eyes flew open as Cordelia froze and you had time to register one of the newer girls standing wide-eyed in the doorway. And then there were fifteen more girls there, all piled around each other, mouths agape.

You heard one of them whisper “I knew it!” and then you dissolved into laughter, burying your face into Cordelia’s shoulder as she chuckled in your ear.

Madison’s heels came clacking down the hallway before either of you could say anything, and as you lifted your head from Cordelia’s shoulder, you met her eyes.

“Oh come on, you pervs,” Madison groaned, batting at the girls and reaching for the door. “Don’t you have better things to do than peep on a lame-ass make out sesh?”

The giggling subsided and the door clicked, and you pulled back, looking at Cordelia.

Your brow popped. “Lame-ass?”

She shook her head, biting down on a smile. “Make out sesh.”

You cackled at her sarcasm, and the way she was looking at you — her smile growing yours, yours growing hers, her eyes entirely too hungry for your own good — you thought that maybe being quarantined wasn’t the worst thing, after all.

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket @shineestark @duchessfics @darling-dontforgetme @midnight-lestrange @nerdaroo @pradababey @mssallymckenna

279 notes · View notes

mrs-hollandstan · 4 years

Text

The One Where They Get Married During Quarantine || Tom Holland

Warnings: talk of the current pandemic, minor mentions of smuttish themes towards the end, language, talk of babiesssss

Word Count: 5,440

Author's Note: I like the way this came out! Thank you for the support on going through with it and I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

Join us for the Wedding of

Y/N Y/L/N

Thomas Holland

Saturday, March 28th 2020

At Three O'clock in the Afternoon

Royal Botanical Kew Gardens

Richmond, United Kingdom

That goddamn invitation stared you in the face from its place on the desk. It was Sunday, March 29th, and you still weren't married to the man of your dreams. You received an email three weeks before that your venue was forced to close their doors for the quarantine and you were stuck at home with not only Tom, but his brother, and both of his best friends. They'd had their fun with the pub quizzes, puzzle building, chicken raising, challenge accepting, but your fiancé always sensed the discontentment that radiated off of you and he was always willing to try and calm it to the best of his ability. But it never seemed to fully work, Tom knowing more than anyone that the fact the wedding you were so excited to plan, exhausted so much time and money into, wasn't happening when you wanted it to. You had a dress hanging in your shared closet, shoes, everything down to the cake delivery plan and the bouquet pickup dates. But it was all cancelled and it was like it was stored in a box and put up on a shelf. And to you, it seemed like Tom didn't understand the way you did, he wasn't hurt the way you were.

Tom sighs as he enters your bedroom, closing the door behind him and cooing down at Tessa and nearing you. His eyes wander from your figure, one leg drawn up to your chest to the laptop now asleep in front of you. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, feeling the anxious waves roll off of you once more,

"You alright darling?" He asks anyways. You nod and he knows you're lying because he follows your eyes to the invitation you had gleefully told him would end up in a scrapbook when you got past the wedding. He sighs again, moving to sit back on the bed,

"I know how upset you are babe. And you know I hate it too. I loved the idea of seeing you walk down that aisle in this beautiful dress with our family around and all." He states. You can feel the tears burn your eyes as he speaks. You nod, letting him wheel your chair between his legs and clear your hair from your shoulder,

"Talk to me love. You know I hate when you're quiet. You're never quiet." He says. You swallow, lips pursed for a moment before you sniffle and shake your head,

"We would've been married a day today Tom. We would have had our dream wedding yesterday and we would have been in Fiji today." You express, Tom flinching at the anguish in your voice,

"I know love. It sucks, it really does." You nod, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Not only has your wedding been shelved until further notice, but you're stuck in a testosterone filled house 24/7. You had hoped that soon, maybe in the next year or so, you and Tom would be finding your own place, being newlyweds and starting that family you so badly wanted. You let out a sob that kills Tom and his brain runs a mile a minute at what he can do for you. He clicks his tongue, dragging you into his arms and listening to you sob. He runs his fingers through your hair, eyes closed as he lets you cry, knowing how hard it’s been on you. Not only the wedding, but the quarantine. He always had a way with feelings and he always knew what you were feeling even if you didn’t say it. He sighs,

“I wish there was something I could do for you darling.” He mutters into your hair, kissing your temple. His head continues to throb in thought, eyes darting back and forth as he tries to come up with an answer good enough for you. And then it hits him. He sits up, standing after a moment to drop to his knees at your feet,

"Baby, babe, I have an idea." He starts, tugging your hand from your face and holding both of yours in both of his, "Darling, hear me out. You and I have been looking forward to this wedding for months, almost a year. So, what if we go through with it and set up a little wedding ceremony in the back yard, just us and the boys and just fuckin do it still? What do you think?" He asks. You stare down at him, watching his eyes swirl in worry and hurt at the sight of you, his thumbs coming up to collect the tears from under your own eyes,

"I think it could be cool. We could- I-I mean you have your dress and I have more fucking tuxes than I know what to do with. I could- that florist we were using is doing curbside pickup and we paid for the order, I could go pick up just your bouquet and we could set up some chairs in the backyard-"

"Tom, someone would have to ordain it."

"Says who? We just have a little ceremony, wear our rings and when the world is normal-ish again, we go out and get married for real, reception and all with our families and we can... cure your little depression." He tries to lighten,

"We can just... wait until like August or something." You try and brush off. Tom quickly shakes his head,

"Fuck that. You wanted a Spring wedding with all the pastels. We're not settling for an anniversary in August when we were excited for March or April. If we're doing it, we're doing it now or we're doing it next Spring and I've waited long enough to make you my wife. I don't want to wait another year." He reasons. After a moment, he purses his lips,

"I wonder..." He trails off, standing from his knees and starting out of the room. You throw your arms up, Tessa taking his place on the bed behind you, tail shuffling the bedding as she laps at your cheeks and you squeal.

Tom hurries down the hall and into the living room where the boys are playing Call of Duty, just like he left them. He presses the button on the TV to turn it off and gain the full, undivided attention of the now irritated, chattering boys. Tom waves his hands in the air to quiet the group,

"I'll turn it back on in a minute, I need to ask a favor of you guys." He yells over them. They quiet then, watching Tom lick his lips,

"I need... h-have any of you thought of getting ordained as a minister?" He asks. All three pairs of eyebrows furrow, the boys looking between themselves before Harry looks back up at his brother, one eyebrow raised,

"Fucking what?" Harry asks. Harrison snickers before Tom rolls his eyes,

"I was thinking Y/N and I could have a wedding ceremony in the backyard but we need someone to officiate for it to actually mean anything. That's what she's most upset about. I just... I was wondering if one of you guys could do it." He elaborates, suddenly feeling small, stupid. The room is silent for a moment before Tuwaine tsks,

"Fuck it, I'll do it. It'll give me something to do in this damn house." He speaks up with a shrug, Tom's heart feeling a little more free now that Tuwaine has agreed. Tom thanks him, watching his friend nod,

"How long do you think it'll take?" Tuwaine shrugs again,

"Think it's like two weeks." Tom nods and turns the TV back on before turning and starting back down the hall. He slams his door behind him, finding the desk calendar that has had big red X's across it for weeks now. He tosses it on the bed before your newly laid down figure,

"Pick a new wedding date two weeks from now. Any date you want." He says, chocolate colored eyes sparkling up at you in so much intent. You sigh, rubbing your thumb across Tessa's paw as you raise to an elbow and look over the calendar. It takes you a moment, but you point to the 11th of April. Tom finds a marker on your desk and adds the text, "New Wedding" before he returns the calendar to the spot in front of you,

"Tuwaine has agreed to get ordained and... we can get married the eleventh in the backyard. I'll pick up your bouquet and I can... go get a cake from the store and we'll just have a little wedding here. It'll be small and... maybe not as pretty as the wedding we spent all that time planning, but it's ours and that's what matters." He reasons. You nod, staring down at the grey puppy laid before you. He stands, leaning over your body to kiss your forehead,

"I'll do the best I can to make you happy with this. I know it isn't ideal but... I think it'll be beautiful babe." You nod, glancing up at him. He smiles,

"I'm excited to see you in your dress baby. I love you and I just know you'll be gorgeous." He says, kissing your lips softly. You nod, petting Tessa and feeling the tightening in your chest let up, the excitement growing inside your belly like it did the first time you planned a wedding,

"Yeah. I think it'll be nice to... just actually be able to say we're married and have that strength during this... really fucked up time." You confirm. He nods,

"I'd love to have Mrs. Holland runnin around here the rest of quarantine. We didn't think this whole lockdown thing would happen and I like the idea of going through with our wedding in it. A big fuck you to the world." You admit. He hums, staring down at you before he smiles and stands again,

"Lets fuck around and get married then yeah?" You can't fight the smile as he takes your hands. You squeal as he pulls you up into his arms, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kisses your cheek,

"You know that if I could choose one thing to do outside of quarantine it would be to marry your fine ass. That hasn't changed and I don't think that this fucking shit should take over. We still have that love for each other and I think we should still go through with it around the time we said we were going through with it." Tom explains. You nod as he rubs your arms,

"Me too. I think it's a really good idea." He smiles and nods,

"And the best thing is that... bullshit thing you'd said about spending all that money on that dress for a one time wear will go out that window because I'll pay for another big ass wedding when we can have one." Tom reassures. You nod, laying your head against his shoulder as he sways you. He holds you close, eyes closing in peace now that he knows he can at least give you somewhat of that fairytale wedding you planned.

Neither you or Tom could deny that the excitement of your backyard wedding was getting overwhelming just as the idea of your actual wedding had. Tom had added a few more people to your guest list to include his parents, Paddy, Sam, and Elysia and your parents were set up to facetime you and watch you marry your fiancé from a different country. In that time, Tuwaine had acquired his officiant license and had printed off a marriage certificate to ensure your legal anniversary was April 11th. You had helped pick out a tux to wear and reached an agreement with Harrison that Tom would use his room to get ready so you could maintain the secrecy of your dress, hair, and makeup. The last of Tom's endeavors was picking up the colorful bouquet from the florist, handing it to his mother who followed Elysia towards your bedroom to help with hair and makeup. The last of your priorities was discussing your want for his father to walk you down the aisle for the full feel, the group setting up an arch Tom's parents already had in the backyard of their own to give the pictures Harry agreed to take, a better look. The only thing agreed upon when it came to picture taking was it remained strictly after the ceremony, the both of you wanting everyone to enjoy the ambiance and not worry about what jobs they're supposed to be doing.

Sam, Paddy, Tuwaine, Tom, Harry, Harrison, and Dom had spent the time setting chairs up, decorating the arch in things you'd already bought for the wedding, each man doing their fair share of trying to calm Tom of his nerves but nearly to no avail. By four o'clock, he's standing before the arch with Tuwaine who continues to try and calm him. Nikki and Elysia exit the back door, Tom's eyes drawn to the inside of your house. Once he sees movement, his heart skips a beat and you, in all of your beauty, emerge, arm looped in Dom's as he escorts you towards his son and your future husband. You smile when you catch his eye, gripping your bouquet tight in your hand. Dom pauses, snapping to relinquish Tessa, basket handle held in her mouth which contains your rings. Each of the family members laugh, including Tom who crouches and greets the puppy in the pinkish white dress he'd bought her a few years ago. He has her sit as Harry, having already connected his phone to your Bluetooth speaker, begins to play "Canon In D" and the rest of the group stands to welcome you out,

"Deep breath. Last thing I need is you passing out before I get you there." Dom jokes as you begin walking, ivory heels sinking into the grass beneath your feet, something you hadn't planned on dealing with when it came to your originally planned wedding. You smile up at him, holding his bicep tighter and taking breaths to calm your pounding heart. Nikki catches your eye, iPad with your parents smiling widely from their living room back home in hand. Her smile matches, the same as Sam, Paddy, Elysia, Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine as Tom stares you down. The image of him is seared into your brain, tears in his eyes and it's everything you've imagined it'd be, of course under different circumstances. Dom pauses just before Tom, you fiancé stepping forward to take your hand from his father,

"Who gives this woman to this man in marriage?" Tuwaine asks, Tom and Dom meeting eyes before his father speaks,

"I do." Dom says, leaning in to kiss your cheek and pat Tom on the shoulder before he takes your bouquet and joins Nikki. Tom helps you stand across from him, finally on cement again,

"You look beautiful darling." He mutters,

"Thank you. You cleaned up nice yourself." You reply. Tuwaine clears his throat as Tom rubs his thumbs across your knuckles,

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Thomas Stanley Holland and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N in marriage. Not only have all of us witnessed the love and dedication the two have for each other, but we shall all feel privileged knowing they chose us to witness the matrimony these two shall embark on. We have watched both grow and thrive and mature in the company of each other and now we are blessed to watch them grow further as husband and wife, as one entity." You smile at Tom who takes a deep breath at Tuwaine's introduction. Tuwaine pauses for a moment before he begins again, with the readings,

"You each chose a quote. So Y/N chose, from Maya Angelou, 'Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps, hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.' Tom, you chose, from George Eliot, 'What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?'" Both quotes had been made for you it seemed. There were so many things within the relationship that proved to be a hurdle for the both of you. Tom obviously traveled a lot with his job, and you had to deal with the distance for long periods of time, both as his girlfriend and fiancée. The facetime calls killed you and your heart hurt daily until you were with him again. And when you were, it was freeing. No matter how long you'd been apart, Tom always came back and you were always together and back to being in love like he never left,

"Now, you both have prepared vows. We'll do those now," Tuwaine remarks and Sam stands to hand both folded papers over, "Y/N, read yours first." You unfold the paper, heart pounding at the vows you'd prepared months in advance and had recently edited to fit the current circumstances. You clear your throat,

"Tom, my love, my light. You have always been my rock at both my best and my worst, through everything. You have always pushed me to be the best version of myself that I could be and you've always been the most wise and selfless person in my life. My love for you is immeasurable and I have never been able to imagine my life without you and your happy, carefree, charisma, spunk in my life. I've been infatuated and in love with you for years and I've always known, for as long as I can remember, that I've wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, just the two of us being in love. As my husband, I promise to stay the same crazy person you agreed to date all those years ago. I promise to continue to annoy the hell out of you, cling to you in the morning when you try and get up, stick my cold feet and hands on your bare skin, and ruin your tea every once in a while, sometimes on purpose, sometimes on accident," Tom laughs, sniffling back his tears, "but more than anything, as your wife I promise to always be your quarantine buddy and I promise to always love you unconditionally and make you as happy as I can and at least pretend to love the same things you do just to listen to you ramble in the adorable way you always do." You finish, reaching up to dab the tears away. Tom's laughter dies down and he clears his own tears away, the rest of the group doing the same as you fold the paper back up. Tom smiles, staring down at you with such adoration in his eyes. Tuwaine allows a brief pause before turning to his friend,

"Now Tom, will you please read your vows to Y/N?" The brunette nods, unfolding his own sheet of notebook paper and clearing his throat,

"I don't know that mine are that good but uhm... I tried." He mutters, laughing along with you and the family. He purses his lips for a moment before clearing his throat again, licking his lips and his eyebrows knit together for a moment,

"Y/N, the love of my life, my biggest supporter, and my confidante, I have never loved anyone more than I have loved you and I have never been loved by someone like you. My biggest regret will always be not giving you the wedding you so obviously deserve even though I've promised to throw you the biggest reception ever once the world starts spinning again," you giggle, clearing your tears again, "you have always stuck with me, through thick and thin, through terrible time differences and long months apart only to welcome me back like we've just paused time. You're compassionate, beautiful, funny, and so silly and I have never had a dull moment with you and I know I never will. My promise to you, as your husband, is that I'll never make life boring. I'll always be your rock, I'll always give your life meaning the way you've done for me, and I'll always make sure you know how loved you are. No matter how many times we fight and how stupid those fights are. And no matter what, there is no one I would rather marry during quarantine than you. I would do anything for you, both before and even more so after quarantine and making you happy in any way I can is what I'll always do. I love you." He finishes, sniffling and folding his vows back up to tuck in his inside pocket,

"I love you too." You whisper as he takes your hands again. There isn't a dry eye in the house, not even Tuwaine who, from the beginning has watched and listened to one of his best friends fall in love with you and now he has the privilege of watching it come to fruition. He was given the privilege of marrying the two of you in an equally as beautiful as your original, backyard wedding. He sniffles himself before looking down at the pages he holds,

"Alright, now the exchange of rings. Tom, please find Y/N's ring and put it on her as you say the following phrase." Tom nods, kneeling to fish the beautiful diamond ring he’d proposed to you with, from Tessa's basket, patting her head before he stands and looks at the paper in Tuwaine’s hands, clearing his throat again. He takes your hand again, staring up into your eyes as he starts,

“Y/N, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love." He repeats the phrase from the paper, glancing up into your eyes again as he slides the ring all the way onto your finger, licking his lips. Tuwaine allows another pause before he turns to look at you,

“And now Y/N, the same.” He commands, waiting until you retrieve Tom’s ring to hold the page out to you,

“Tom, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love.” You relay to the man across from you, a smile crossing his features. He knows what follows and it’s surreal knowing that it’s happening. He’s marrying you, the love of his life, in his garden and life can’t get much better. Tuwaine turns his page,

“Now, by the power vested in me, you may kiss your bride.” He directs Tom’s way. His dark brown eyes meet yours before he steps forward, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other reaching up to caress your cheek before he leans in to kiss you, your own arms looping under his. The crowd around you claps as Tom kisses you, leaning you back just the smallest bit before he leans back himself, pressing his forehead to yours and smiling, kissing you once more before he stands back and glances up at Tuwaine, smiling down at the two of you,

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stanley and Y/N Y/M/N Holland.” Tuwaine hollers as both sets of parents, Tom’s siblings, Tom’s best friend and Elysia all cheer and Tom thrusts your hand, wrapped in his, up in victory. He glances over at you, smile wide across his face as he leans in one last time to kiss you and Harry plays the song you set to walk back down the aisle to, Tom leading you with your hand in his back inside the house. Once inside, he squeals, pulling you in,

“You do realize we just got married right? Like… you’re Mrs. Holland now. As you should have been two weekends ago.” Tom reminds. You giggle and nod, glancing down at the ring on your finger,

“Yes I do. I love you more than anything.” You tell Tom who holds your waist as you lean in for yet another kiss, your family entering the back doors. Each of them beeline to congratulate you, each of them dishing out hugs and kisses, the girls asking to see the ring on your finger. You take the iPad from Nikki's hands, greeting your parents and showing them the wedding ring on your finger. They ask for Tom who presses a hand to your lower back, greeting them cheerfully and thanking them as they dish out congratulatories,

"Right," Tuwaine's voice booms out over the chatter. He looks between you and Tom, holding up a piece of paper, "Pardon the interruption, but I need bride, groom, and two witnesses to make it official, official." He remarks. Tom wraps his arm around your waist as you hand Nikki back the iPad,

"So... who do you reckon is lucky enough to be our official witnesses?" He whispers in your ear. You sigh,

"I dunno. Uhm... your mom and... your best friend?" You pose quietly as to not offend anyone. He smiles and reaches out to fluff your hair with a smile,

"I think that's a good idea," he turns to the group, "mum, Haz... will you guys... be our witnesses?" Tom asks. You see the devotion, the adoration and respect in Harrison's bright blue eyes as a smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. He nods,

"I'd be honored." He mutters, Nikki reaching out to rub your arm once she's handed the iPad to Dom,

"Me too." She smiles wider as you and Tom follow Tuwaine to the dining room table, watching him lean in to sign the marriage certificate,

"First the officiant signs it, and then the two witnesses." He explains, handing the pen to Nikki. She smiles as she leans in and signs the paper, passing the pen to Harrison all while Harry is snapping photos. He snaps at you and Tom,

"Lets get some pics of just you two outside with the arch." He says. You nod, taking Tom's hand and following the two boys outside and up to the arch, Tom's arm wrapping around your waist again. He sighs,

"Nice day for a wedding, ay darling?" He jokes. You giggle and nod, leaning up to kiss him softly as Harry's camera clicks, your eyes darting between Tom's,

"It's the perfect day for a wedding cutie."

You watch through the back door as the boys play the same game they'd been obsessed with for months. You roll Tom's fingers in your own, tucking the blanket under your chin further. Tom sighs beside you, pressing his lips into your hair,

"Darling?" You hum an answer, glancing up at your husband when he doesn't respond. His dark eyes find yours after another moment,

"Are you happy?" He asks. Your eyebrows furrow,

"What do you mean T?" He shrugs, threading his fingers through yours while you're preoccupied,

"I just mean... two months ago we watched this virus roll in and we never thought it would get this bad to the point we'd be spending every waking moment in this house with three other men and that it'd result in a wedding we were so excited to plan and see through and it wasn't... exactly what we planned, but, I dunno, I just mean, are you happy with what we had here today?" He elaborates, glancing back up at the stars that sparkle above you both from the place in your hammock. You linger in the silence for another moment before you shift to place your hand over Tom's beating heart,

"Do you remember... that Jared commercial we saw the other night?" You ask. His eyes half roll as he thinks, teeth chewing the inside of his cheek and then he nods,

"Yeah, the one with the virtual weddings?" He asks. You nod,

"Do you remember what it said and how you nudged me to get the point of it all?" You pose. He nods,

"Yeah." You nod once more,

"You did it because the point of that commercial is that it doesn't matter about the dress, or the cake, or the guest list or how formal everything is. What matters is the love the two people getting married have for each other, especially during trying times like now." You remind him. He smiles, playing with your hair,

"Right." You rub his chest,

"Whether I married you today in our back yard with all of the things we have from our wedding or I marry you in August back in our venue with new stuff doesn't matter because it isn't the date that matters, it's you and me and how we show we love each other." His smile is bright as he squeezes your fingers between his. You sigh,

"I could have married you in that dress in there with fifty people and a cake and a vibrant bouquet and all that in April or I could have married you in a trash bag in the middle of August with dead flowers and it would not have changed my love for you Tom." You reassure. He reaches out with his opposite hand to tuck hair behind your ear,

"So you're happy?" He reiterates. You giggle, nodding and situating yourself to rest your head further up Tom's shoulder,

"Extremely. And always with you." He leans in to kiss you softly,

"Me too love. My vows were 100% from my heart. I've never loved anyone like you and I would do whatever it takes to make sure you understand that."

"I do. Mine were honest too. No matter what the problem, no matter how tired you are, you've always been there for me. I have never, ever been more in love with someone and I don't wanna know anything else. Of course... I've been down because I'm in a house with four guys and I don't get to have my fairytale wedding and honestly, we'd be looking for our own place, just the two of us but... I loved today. Our family and friends, my dress, my bouquet, my beautiful fiancè. I'm more than happy Tom." You explain to him. He strokes your hair down, leaning in to kiss you once more,

"I love you more than anything Y/N." He says softly. You smile, reaching up to rub your thumb across his cheek,

"I love you too Tom," you hold your hand up, brandishing the wedding ring on your finger, "for life now. I've got you." You tell him. He chuckles,

"Forever and always love. Now when we... get back to the world we'll get our own place, I promise, and... soon enough, we'll be tryin for some beautiful babies."

"Slow your roll Holland, we gotta get outta this damn house first. And having a kid isn't our first priority once we do get our place." You jokingly scold. Tom chuckles, smile fading after a moment and he frowns,

"We aren't... going to wait til we move out to consummate our marriage are we?" He poses. You giggle,

"I hadn't planned on it, no."

"Oh thank god." He mutters, the both of you relaxing against each other, staring up at the stars for a moment longer. He sighs, fingers nonchalantly rubbing up and down your arm. He hums before pressing his lips into your hair again,

"Happy anniversary love." He mutters. You glance up at him again, smile widening,

"About damn time Mr. Holland." He chuckles again,

"And now, every April 11th, for the rest of our lives, we'll be reminded of the day we got married in our backyard." He says. You lay your head against his shoulder,

"I wouldn't have it any other way." You admit. His lips press to your forehead,

"Me neither darling, me neither." He mumbles, wrapping his arm tight around you. And the uncertainty you had felt weeks ago when your wedding was forced to be cancelled, was gone now that you were in the arms of Tom. Not only your rock, but your husband. Now and always.

Permanent Taglist: @embrace-themagic @t-holland @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998 @musiclover1263 @xxtomxo @chillinjules @sincerelyfan @srh5605 @justkeepdreaminganddreaming @spnobsessedmemes @hazmyheart @saltysebastianstan @petty-geminii @motherhyuckerdude @counting-eyerolls @princezzariel @martinimendes @happytappy02 @lilya-petrichor @20coldhearts @random-fandomer @kalliria @imtajah @celinelopez3 @itsjusttor @popluckbih @obsidianspidey @takemetooneverlanddd @marshyrebelcloud @zabdisamor @hollandstea @marvelismylifffe @loveylangdon @inlovewithmobtom @bangtan-serendipity @peterbeterbarker @bonfirelohve @meg-holland @localfangirlx @turtlee-says-rawr @sadbitchfangirl @th0ttie4tommy @w-jhxk-yj @thatweirdomimic @mytonycinematicuniverse @chances-and-miracles @averyfosterthoughts @liberty01 @hatterripper31 @agirlwithpointlessideas @cassiopeiaskies @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @deviilsangel @peterspideysense @mariejulianposts @hannahholland1811 @jackiehollanderr @peterparkerbabyyy @artsyle @unbelievableholland @hollandjmc @lmao-whats-up @jbchrisevans @biebsmylife95 @chaoticcheesecaketyrant @keithseabrook27 @palereblogs @sovereignparker @tiny-friggin-human @readersoftomorrow @spideynut @hardcorefanofeverything @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @softholand @gab-bones @emistrash @quaksonhehe @yoinkyourheart @supernaturalwriter24 @ohh-anna @myfinalwords @cosmicholland @sleepyhollands @peterquillzsblog

Tom Holland Tags: @mariejulianposts @hollandjmc @lmao-whats-up @keithseabrook27 @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @cosmicholland

575 notes · View notes

theramseyloft · 3 years

Note

What is your opinion on The Crazy Pigeon Lady on youtube? Also I'm sorry for what you're going through, hope you get through it just fine.

OohI looked her up, and thus far like her over all.

We have a few differences, but they are thus far location relevant.

In the first episode, she discusses the difference between a pigeon and dove from a purely taxonomical and linguistic stand point, with out any apparent regard for the possibility that the person asking may have been asking about how to differentiate between the different domestic species.

It may not have dawned on her that that was a possible aspect of the question.

She is in the UK, where all white pigeons are colloquially referred to as Doves, and colored birds referred to as Pigeons, giving rise to the common misconception that colored and white pigeons are two different species.

In regards to whether or not pigeons are dirty, she defines ferals as “Formerly domesticated, now wild birds” which is not true in North America, because there are no wild populations of rock doves for ferals to get any fresh infusions of wild blood from.

There are unaltered, still wild native Rock Dove populations in the UK with which ferals can interbreed, making them at least some degree of genuinely wild there.

Her answer concerning pigeons as a disease risk was accurate and thorough.

I’m going through their pigeons as pets series, presently.

Episode one revolves around why some one might want a pet pigeons that is very detailed and largely accurate.

She is not correct in Ringnecks or other species of doves having similar temperaments to pigeons, or in them being more than minorly social (other columbid species pair bond exclusively and do not flock year round the way domestic Pigeons do).

I like that she differentiates Pigeon vs. other columbid species cooing. ^v^

I also like that the why you would want one is followed by “here are some potential issues to consider to make sure this will be a good pet for you before you get one.”

She goes into cleaning, briefly, but succinctly.

And a bit about social needs and commitment.

And considering whether or not you want to breed.

Great introduction, with minimal inaccuracy.

Episode Two is focused on selection and aquisition of the bird.

Ooh! She begins by discussing pros and cons both of purchase from breeders and adopting from a rescue.

Most of the pros from a breeder are excellent and correct, but she does mention among the cons “A pigeon purchased from a breeder takes a home away from a rescue, so consider that if that’s important to you”, which is not true, as people choose to go to a breeder or a rescue for entirely different reasons.

A particularly excellent con she mentions of going to a breeder is that breeders tend to breed in very large numbers, and probably won’t have spent any real time getting to know any individual bird, so the individual’s temperament may be a bit of a crapshoot.

This is something we ae trying to change, but is still very much true of the vast majority of pigeon breeders, and is a fantastic point to consider for looking into the acquisition of a pet.

Their pros and cons of adopting from a rescue were accurate and balanced.

And acknowledging that it is a responsible action for a first time pigeon owner to take time to consider whether or not they can care for a traumatized, disabled, or special needs bird is something I greatly appreciate.

She goes from here into pros and cons of different types of pigeons, categorized as Exhibition, performance, utility, and rescue.

Her assessment that healthy performers can’t or should not be kept indoors (only disabled or geriatric individuals) is inaccurate.

As many of you have seen from my own birds, Homers and Rollers can be perfectly happy indoors, so long as they are not caged in anything smaller than a pigeon proofed room.

It is not a requirement that they be allowed free flight outside to be physically, mentally, or emotionally healthy.

Interesting side note: Apparently, meat pigeons eaten in the UK are more often sourced by hunting than farmed, so commercially bred utility birds are not much of a thing there.

She also goes into whether to start with a single bird or a pair, in excellent detail.

She also lays out that housing and a carrier to bring the bird home in should be prepared before going to get the bird.

She discusses checking the claenliness of the breeder or rescues loft (I like that she specifies to also check a rescue’s cleanliness, rather than assuming a rescue will be clean because it is a rescue.)

Her advice to talk to the breeder or rescue is excellent.

And she goes into a lot of detail of what warning signs to avoid while trying to select a healthy bird.

Going into detail about what healthy poop should look like is an excellent and often overlooked addition that I am especially pleased she has not missed.

She even goes into sexing, meds, and vaccinations.

The discussion of acclimating a new bird to the changed environment is excellent.

One week is WAY too short a time to isolate a new bird from previous residents. Most pigeon diseases take two to three weeks to develop symptoms, so my minimum quarantine is four weeks.

Their acclimation advice otherwise is fantastic.

Episode three focuses on enclosures and equipment.

Fantastic point was made that there is not an indoor cage large enough for a pigeon to live in full time, and flight time outside of it is a must for several reasons.

Considerations for what type of enclosure of what size in what location is excellent.

Planning for enclosure maintenance is excellent.

Would have liked for her to have shown the enclosures she uses for her birds, but the descriptions are detailed and accurate.

She includes that perches need to be flat on top and not too crowded or numerous.

Pleased by the recommendation of at least one brick. ^v^

I would not advise lining a pigeon enclosure with a towel, because of the ease with which strings can be picked out of place with their claws in the course of just walking over it, which could tangle around the toes and cut off circulation if the string comes free of the towel or break the toe if it doesn’t, and the tangled bird panics.

Fleece is a safe alternative that doesn’t come apart in full threads and will not tangle this way, if you like the idea of a fabric floor.

She details news paper, puppy pads, wood shavings, and sand accurately.

LOVE that she detailed deep ceramic ramekins as being ideal for water, while preferring shallower ones for food and grit.

aaaand there she goes into what to use to feed greens. >v<

Pigeons cannot digest anything but seeds.

Please do not feed them greens, roots, tubers, stems, flowers, or fruits.

Yes, there are nutrients in those things, but they do the pigeon absolutely no good if they cannot process those items to get to those nutrients.

This is a very common misconception stemming from parrot care.

The discussion of carriers is succinct and accurate.

Gram scales, claw clippers, measuring equipment, and bath dishes were also discussed in excellent detail.

The next does into diet, and I expect to do a lot of yelling about the addition of veggies. >v<

But, at this point, I think I’ve sampled enough to give a verdict.

The vast majority of what I have seen on care of pet pigeons is accurate, and she breaks things down in perfect detail for beginners looking into getting their first pigeon.

There are a few linguistic and location-specific differences between UK and North American pigeons; things that apply in one that do not in the other. For example, meat pigeons being bred for consumption vs hunted, and whether or not ferals can accurately be described as Wild or semi-wild.

One potentially dangerous bedding material being recommended, one misconception about recue versus breeder, and further perpetuation of a very common dietary myth are the only inaccuracies I have seen so far.

This woman pays close attention to her birds, and they are comfortable and happy in her company, which speaks volumes for her relationship with them.

Her advice for starting to build a relationship with a newly acquired bird is absolutely spot on.

If you, or any of my other followers, would like me to continue reviewing her care series on pigeons as pets, or any other pigeon related content, you are welcome to submit videos for commentary in my ask box.

I greatly respect blogs like @is-the-owl-vid-cute and would not mind providing a similar service in regard to pigeons.

46 notes · View notes

baby-grayson · 4 years

Text

Kind Stranger| GBD

Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny) Trigger Warning: quarantine talk A/N: This is my first fic post ever! Please let me know what you think about this little teaser. Please please give me feedback about if I should keep going or if I can improve at all!!

The saltwater hit his tongue sharply. His body fell alongside his board in the water. While his feet met the ground again, he quickly scooped up the wayward board before it floated too far away. Arriving back on the shore, he dug the bottom of the board into the heavy, wet sand. He sat next to it, the tide kissing his feet and bare legs as it danced along the shore. He took a deep breath. He was at peace.

Grayson Dolan didn’t feel peace often: at least, not lately. The past two years had been one chaotic haze after another. Moving into a house in LA. Being on Fear Factor. Having his first stalker. Being there to watch his father pass. Starting a fragrance company. Erupting into a workaholic pattern of self-destruction to avoid dealing with the emotions of his father’s death. Announcing to his over 10million fans that he and Ethan had reached their last emotional string and needed to pursue a life that was happiest for them, including projects that pushed them as creators.

The creative projects were as scary and dizzying as they were exciting. He and Ethan traveled across the country in a custom van. They explored the Australian wilderness. They started a podcast with their friend, Ryan, to introduce the real, mature versions of themselves to the internet. Grayson had a small black notebook in his bottom left desk drawer with project ideas and timelines for the year.

But that notebook became pointless when the pandemic hit. He and Ethan were in the process of finding a new house after an incident with an unhealthily obsessed fan when the shelter in place orders hit. The first month was unstable; no one should have to move to a new house in the middle of a pandemic. But the craziness subsided eventually, Grayson and Ethan found a home to call their own for the first time in their lives. After living in close quarters during construction left them at each other’s throats, they found a rental in Malibu to live out the rest of their quarantine days. Periodically, the visited their mother in New Jersey.

Visiting New Jersey did not exactly follow the CDC guidelines. Grayson quelled the risk in his heart with the importance of his mother. If she wasn’t working and he and Ethan only ever saw each other, how dangerous could it really be? Besides, his mother needed him. After the death of his father, his mother was left alone in their house in rural New Jersey. She had nothing but the memories of buying the home, bringing home two twin baby boys, teaching her daughter how to ride a bike, and having tough conversations about her sons’ dreams… Yeah, she needed him. Grayson decided. Grayson still held guilt from not spending enough time with his mother after his father passed. He loved her more than anything, and in a deep place, a place so deep that he didn’t dare think on often, he would never forgive himself for not being there for her in the weeks following his father’s passing.

He thought of her often: like on this beach in Malibu. He thought of how she’d love to pull up a beach chair and enjoy a Mojito while soaking up the sun. The image almost made him chuckle. For a short second, he pictured Ethan and Cameron there with her. Cameron would pull up a beach chair next to their mother, blasting her latest musical obsession from a stereo. Ethan would try to surf, but eventually his more whimsical tendencies would give out and he’d try building the biggest sandcastle a 20-year-old man child could muster.

Grayson chuckled to himself, he buried his hands in the sand at his sides. He played with it in his palms, feeling the fine granules pass over his coarse skin. A thousand little diamonds slowly withering away at a firm and precise exterior. He was also reminded of his mother constantly telling him to exfoliate his callouses from building.

This was Grayson mid-pandemic. The mess of finding a house passed. The initial marvel of staying busy inside the house passed. Hell, even the wonder of cutting his home-grown mullet had passed. Now, he and Ethan traded turns being the more bored twin. Ethan had re-watched Stranger Things about 10 times by now. Grayson spent his days working out, following his regimented daily routine to soon reach a Planche Hold. Occasionally, one of them would reach a deeper state of boredom and go to bother the other twin. They would go to bed and rehearse the routine again the next day.

Unfortunately for Grayson, Ethan slept like the dead. His twin brother usually slept until 11:00 AM; the pandemic had pushed that to a firm 1:00PM. His brother’s sleeping beauty impression left Grayson with nearly half a day to himself. Grayson made a ritual out of going surfing. The beach was secluded enough to not require the precautionary thinking of masks and hygiene in a pandemic. It was just Grayson, his board, and the ocean. He spent his alone time thinking of the important people in his life. In some ways, this pandemic was almost a good thing for him. He spent last year moving too fast among emotions he was too immature to process on his own. This year the world forced him to move too slow in an attempt to let his mind and heart catch up to the rest of his life. His introspective moments on the sand and sea were his own to experience and process alone. Except today.

She looked down at him and smiled, “Good Morning”

His lips turned up softly, “Morning”

He watched as she walked away: a long, dark ponytail fluttering in the wind over a flowy, white sundress sundress with a small, leather purse hanging at her hip. Grayson leaned back on his palms when he noticed something. Her footprints weren’t even. In the sand, one foot was about two inches deeper than the other. He furrowed his brow, pondering it for a second before shaking his head. He dipped his hands in the water and wet his newly cropped haircut. He was seeing things, probably swallowing too much salt. He grabbed his board and headed up shore to his van.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wouldn’t have recognized her without the hair. The next day, he was paddling back to shore on his board when she walked by. He could make out her long, dark hair against the pale, sandy background. He squinted: not being able to tell if she was looking back at him. He smiled brightly and outwardly, just in case she could see him. His smile faded in a few seconds. what am I doing? He thought before padding back to shore to make his usually introspective campsite.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third day, he was firmly in deep thought about his next tattoo when she walked by. They made eye contact as they flashed each other warm, but polite, smiles. “Good Morning” “Good Morning”.

This secluded little beach not his own anymore. He shared it with a kind stranger. She was a silent reminder that the world continued to turn outside of his fast-paced, modern, social media based lifestyle. Okay he thought maybe I’m being a bit deep …but it’s nice to have someone else around I guess.

Their routine played for two weeks. She would walk by Grayson, either as he was coming to land again or paddling his way back to shore. They exchanged greetings and smiles as they passed. By the time she turned around and walked back to her car again, Grayson was gone. Sometimes she saw the imprint of him in the sand when he was gone and thought about him when he wasn’t there. For a few minutes, she would muse to herself about his name. Sterling? No too Disney. Lance? No too King Arthur. William? No too Royal Family.

Occasionally, Grayson would think back to her outside of his beach visits. Maybe he passed a girl with long, dark hair in the grocery store, or maybe he saw someone about her size on the other side of a parking lot, he would catch his breath quickly before realizing it wasn’t her. What would I even say? Are we friends? She probably doesn’t remember what I look like. Why do I care? That last one got him.

Why did he care? Sure, he thought, she was pretty. She seemed nice, well okay her Good Mornings sound nice…nicest he’d heard in a while considering the only other person who wished him a good morning was Ethan. Maybe that was just it, he was spending too much time by himself or with Ethan. Ethan and Grayson had been quarantined together for almost four months now. The only other people he had seen was his mother, sister, and friend Ryan. When you only speak to 4 other people face to face for four months, the girl on the beach was a contender for one of his closest friends. The thought settled well in his brain, rationalizing his anxieties about seeing her in public.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About two weeks later, on a Tuesday morning, the sky was grey as the sun hid behind the clouds; the ocean water was unusually murky with dense foam. Grayson’s head must have been in the grey clouds because his usual surfing excursion left him tumbling around in the water more than usual. He started back for the shore earlier than usual, sensing that today was simply not his day. When the water reached his chest, Grayson started to walk upright in the water while dragging his board behind him. Not a few seconds later, he felt a sharp pain stab the outer edge of his left foot. “FUCK”, he swore out loud and gasped. The saltwater heightened the pain as he continued to trudge through the water.

He arrived on shore and noticed a jagged, long cut along the side of his right foot. The saltwater washed away the blood seeping through the wound: all that was left was a deep, slender slice taken out of the side of his foot. He tossed his board down, not bothering to dig it into the sand. He sat on the waters edge, trying to wash the sand out of the wound but wincing when the salt returned with its pointed sting. He groaned softly to himself.

I can’t walk back to the car like this, he thought to himself.

He threw his head back, frustrated with the situation. Frustrated with how he might have scratched his board on a rock from tossing it down. Frustrated from the deep wound spewing blood from his foot. Frustrated with his loneliness. Frustrated with the pandemic. Frustrated with his career. It all lead him here: sitting on a beach, more than half naked, with a bloody foot and a bruised ego. He sighed out loud and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are you okay?”

Grayson nearly jumped, not because she was mean or aggressive but because he was having his internal meltdown under the impression that he was alone. He forgot about his little beach friend. Her brow furrowed softly, oh shit I should say something.

“Yeah, I uhh I just got cut up is all” Grayson waived his injured foot softly from where it lay.

She hesitated for a second, neither of them was wearing a mask. Surely Dr. Fauci would approve of her helping a lone stranger who was in pain. She ignored the premonition, figuring that she wouldn’t be seeing anyone else soon anyway but remembering to put a mask in her purse for any future first aid incidents.

“Do you need a hand?” Her eyes were kind and caring, a deep brown that looked nearly gold in the grey light of that Tuesday morning. Grayson found himself looking at her, really looking at her for the first time since they started sharing the beach. She did not notice Grayson’s awkward gawk getting the best of him. She bent her head down, her eyes leaving Grayson’s gaze to search her purse for something. Grayson realized how small she was, probably only 5 feet tall and slender framed underneath her T-shirt and shorts. She unearthed a small, white package from within her purse. “Bandaid?” she offered, holding it out to him.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Grayson nodded softly and took the package from her. He looked from the white box to his cut and his muscles tensed up, unsure of where to start. He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with uncertainty. She smiled softly at him, reassuring that frustrated place in his heart slightly. “Want some help?”, she was already kneeling down before he could start nodding.

Grayson slipped the white bandage box into her small palm as she started wiping away the larger pieces of sand around the cut. “You think it could get infected?” he asked, “By something in the water?”

She laid a piece of gauze over his cut as she shook her head. “No, the salt in the water would act as an electrolyte to dehydrate the phospholipid bilayer of any aquatic bacteria before it even got in.” He felt his eyebrows raise. She wrapped his foot in a larger bandage before adding, “uh I mean… it’s salt water, so you’ll be fine…..how did you do this anyway?”

“I must’ve stepped on a rock coming out of the water,” Grayson coolly forgot to mention his earlier debacle of looking like a Saint Bernard on a surfboard.

“If a big guy like you can get taken down by a rock, I have no chance in this world,” she remarked while standing up and putting the box back in her purse. Grayson laughed out loud with a wide smile. Her joke wasn’t even that funny, but it had been so long since he heard someone make a joke besides Ethan.

She smiled down at him, “I like the band” she gestured toward the solid black tattoo on his right ankle. “I think I would go with an anklet though,” she added with a soft confidence.”

Grayson tried to stand on the freshly bandage foot, “True but this way I’ll never lose it in the ocean.”

It was her turn to laugh, she flashed a bright smile at him and let out a happy sound. Her laugh died down as Grayson stood up tall: a tanned, muscular Adonis standing before her. “Well um..I’m glad to see you’re doing okay,” she started to step away from him, “See you later.” She smiled before turning away.

“See you later,” Grayson waved goodbye as she turned her back and continued her walk. He stopped himself, why was a grown man waving goodbye in public like a kindergartener at school? He let his hand fall to his side before picking up his board and walking back to his van. He looked down at his foot, I guess Ethan is taking out the trash tonight..and making me dinner.

On the other side of the beach, she drew in a breath and cursed to herself, shit..I didn’t get his name..

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grayson returned to the beach the next morning without his board. He decided that getting his bandaged (freshly done and kissed with love by Ethan) foot was too much of a risk. Also, he feared cutting up his good foot with a matching gash. He couldn’t depend on pretty girls with nice eyes to always be there with bandaids. Instead, he sat down on the sand, letting the water run over his right foot and leg. He held his injured leg in his bicep, folding his knee up to meet his chest. With his free arm, he tried to skip stones in the water from his position on the ground.

He tried his best to enjoy his introspective morning with the ocean, even though he wasn’t in the water.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your board” she looked down at him from under the visor of a black baseball hat.

He chucked, “Boards don’t pair well with bandaged feet.” He smiled up at her, “Thank you, by the way, for yesterday. I really appreciate it… You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem….just being a kind stranger,” outwardly, she smiled gently but inwardly she cringed at the awkwardness of her own words. Grayson smiled gently back at her, she can’t have been too awkward if he’s still looking at her right?

“My names Kate”

“I’m Grayson” A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! This is the first thing I am ever posting and would really appreciate any feedback you have about whether or not I should keep going. <3

194 notes · View notes