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hwaightme · 2 years ago

Text

Your fan, San (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

💬 pairing: san x interpreter!reader 💬 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining, drama 💬 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if san was stanning you 💬 wordcount: 4.5k 💬 warnings/tags: language, conflict, two shy dorks, homie sabotage?, misunderstandings, love above all, touring, busy life, reader is a pro linguist, we stan simpteez, unedited oop- 💬 taglist: @acciocriativity, @doom-fics, @layzfeelit @jcngh0-hq @black--awsum @honey-lemon-goose @i-luvsang @jackinmyarea , @izuijin @justhere4kpop 💬 a/n: Hello there <3 here is PART 2 of YOUR FAN SAN!! Hopeless romantic? Check. Chaotic? Check... and the FINALE is coming soon??? ;~; P.S. that uni life do be getting wild so apologies if I'll be haphazardly uploading or if trains of thought are derailed~

'The Beauty of Falling in Love - a collection of short stories, poems and musings'

That was the title of the book you had to translate. And if you were not a (fully) sappy and sentimental mess before, you sure as hell were now. Because each little chapter, be it an anonymous recollection of favourite moments with a loved one, or a vignette dedicated to someone special, was some of the most heartwarming work you have ever read.

Each piece sounded so personal, so real, that you found yourself spending more time than usual on this commission. You had made an agreement with the client that they would be sending chapters out one by one, and prior to receiving one, you would send back a completed translation.

It was an easy enough arrangement, and was not too taxing when it came to your personal time. You could ruin your sleep schedule to your heart's content by watching dramas that you had missed whilst on tour, could make late night trips to the convenience store because you did not want to be caught in the businessperson rush, could catch up with people who you had inadvertently ghosted because of work and inability to find words when you wanted to.

Outside of your preferred mode of relaxation, you kept in touch with some of the members of ATEEZ, thanks to a group chat that San had created and 'simply had to add you' - at least that was how he had advertised it. The group chat consisted of him, you, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang, who to you seemed like a random pick, since you did not interact with neither Yunho nor Yeosang as much.

But over a very short period of time this had changed for the better, and you had grown very comfortable, attached even, to the chaotic quartet. If anything this it was a top up vaccine for being able to keep up with the ATEEZ chaos - otherwise you would be familiarising yourself with it again for tour, as if it was the first day of work.

Little did you know, you were talking with the Operation ring leaders + Yeosang who was in it for the gossip, and to control the fire... in the way he wished. It was more or less a regular conversation, aside from San occasionally panicking and running up to one of the guys for advice.

"Yeo why did you write 'AMOGUS'?"

"Don't question me. This is art- ah see, Y/N sent the prayer hands emoji, she agrees." Yeosang responded, pointing at his phone screen.

"I feel like you guys are six parallel universes ahead of me and I don't like it."

"Make that ten, you boomer."

"This is an ancient meme you are quoting Yeo~" Wooyoung joined in, trying to poke fun at his friend.

"Say that again, the king of social boomers? Are you salty that I did not put hyung after AMOGUS because it's old?"

"What even is this chat-" Mingi, who was observing from his position lying across three dining chairs, threw the question out into the air.

"It is us trying to force San to dm Y/N by pushing them together like two dolls." Wooyoung, slightly irritated, explained.

"Man, you really are done." Mingi responded, chuckling

"I don't know, am I? San is breaking up with me so I am going through all stages of grief."

"Double u tee eff?" San raised an eyebrow and stared at Wooyoung, phone loose in his hands.

"How far along is she?"

"She isn't pregnant dude."

"Ugh you know what I mean."

"Like... a third of the way?"

"Damn you guys are slow as shit. We planned for this to take how long? You even have the confession already written up for the last chapter, this is kind of ridiculous. You know what, hold up."

Wooyoung tackled San, and thanks to the surprise nature of the attack, got the perfect opportunity to grab his friend's phone. After securing 'the bag', Wooyoung strode off to the other side of the room, clicking away, while San attempted to stand up, shouting.

Yunho seemed to have caught onto what the other was about to do, as he launched himself at the shorter man sat on the sofa and splayed himself right over like a blanket.

"No hard feelings bro this is necessary."

As San way trying to battle his way out, but was further restrained by Yeosang who had finally stopped taking photos, Wooyoung giggled deviously and locked the phone again, sauntering back with a devilish grin and handing it to San.

"It is done. You can thank me later."

"What did you do?"

"Something that you should have done like... a year ago."

"DID YOU TEXT HER?"

"Yeah. And don't worry, nothing Woo-style, you grilled me enough times for me to remember her preferences. Plus, I know how to text like you."

"And when did that come in handy?"

"Uh... I have to go water my fish BYEEE~" Wooyoung quickly departed from the living room sprinting back to the dorm, while San remained in shock, swiping at the screen to reveal the message that his friend had sent on his behalf.

Damn. It really was just like him.

The text came to you as a surprise. Though you have had some conversations over private message before, most of them had been in some way work related. Not San messaging you out of the blue to ask how you were and that you should catch up.

With the group chat all but abandoned, you happily launched into texting San. There was never any pressure for a phone call, which you greatly appreciated, and there was no specific guidelines that either of you enforced - without a care you double, triple, quadruple texted, abruptly disappeared only to reappear with a link or a photo... main things was that together, you kept your conversation alive and thriving.

You would have never, not in a million years, imagined yourself getting this close to San, or anyone with a celebrity status for that matter. Simply because you felt like they would need and deserve more than you could offer socially. You were all about human connection and uniting minds, but when it came to your own personal preferences, you would much rather write out your thoughts in astonishing detail and hit send, than say the same things out loud and to somebody in person.

And yet, contrary to your assumptions and what you could only say had been prejudice on your part, San was supportive of you and of your choices, saying he could 'imagine your voice well enough anyways'. He steered clear of pushing you to communicate in a style that was not yours; though you did enjoy hearing his voice, and would be lying if you said he was not a charmer, you could not bring yourself to reciprocate that approach. It was too overwhelming to do during the time that you had allocated for yourself as your regenerative state. And San made your heart melt by showing that he got that, without you having to tear yourself apart and explain.

To him it had been fairly easy to figure out that you were a text over call kind of person, and was something that he had advertised to the Operation Love Language squad. Given your notes app being packed, post it notes sometimes threatening to pour out of your bag, and him spotting you willingly sitting far away from any groups so you could watch something, earphones in, all pointed to that conclusion. And San found that he liked it more than he would have guessed.

Each text was like a memory, and an expression not only of something that they wanted to blurt out, but more often than not of a considered, weighed out opinion, even if it was onomatopoeia or a string of emojis. He would have never been able to get to know you like he did over text, and get so close to you that you were now happily discussing with him your own worries, and passions, and dreams, not just responding to his stream of musings and questions.

It was through one of these extensive texting sessions that you had revealed to San your endeavors as a freelance translator, and gushed about the commission you were working on.

This made San's thumbs freeze midway through typing. Carried away and impatient, he had tried to strike on all fronts, and now that he was in continuous communication with you, he regretted it. Deeply. Except he did not yet know just how risky the decision to parade as someone he was not could be.

After the first time you had mentioned your side work, he had begun to get progressively more quiet. Bit by bit. Until his responses to you turned almost into a conversation with a wall. You were unable to figure out just what had gotten into San, what had changed?

You turned to the work you were meant to translate as a distraction, expecting that the client would have shared the new chapter with you already... but no such thing.

Instead, there was an order cancellation, and a short apology.

What did you do wrong?

What happened?

Was there something that had not been quite right?

You looked over your already completed translations - you were searching for anything to suggest a reason for cancellation. The words appeared blurry, fading into one big mush. It was all terrible... wasn't it?

Who were you kidding you were probably rusty after not working with fiction for so long, and for not focusing hard enough. You had stopped paying attention to the craft. Who even were you? And interpreter, a translator, or a fraud?

You looked at the cancellation email again, knowing full well that it was pointless to try and reach the customer - they might have blocked you for all you knew. This hurt. This really hurt.

You saw that San had responded to your messages, again in a weirdly cheery tone, asking you how you are and what you have been up to? San would understand... right? San would listen to you...?

So you did something that you yourself did not expect, and pressed on the call button. He picked up on the first ring.

He sounded nervous, and almost tearful as you bared all and talked him through what had just happened. You needed him. He was the only one who had understood your language.

When you told him that you were probably over reacting and just humiliating yourself by being 'so deep in sad mode' over a whole lot of nothing, he instantly was there to catch you and call you out. He emphasised the importance of your work, of the beautiful job you had done so far... but then halted, unsure of how to proceed.

This left you confused. He then picked his words in a strangely careful manner, and almost beginning to side with the customer, saying how maybe it was for the better, and that now at least you could relax and find another project...

"San. This is really unlike you. What is up with that personality switch?"

"What do you mean Y/N? It's nothing-"

"I have an ear for speech, San, if there is anyone who could be a bullshit filter, it is me."

Silence.

More silence.

You were about to call out to him again, when you hear a muffled, barely there whisper:

"I'm sorry..."

You were sent reeling. What did he mean? Why was he sorry?

"I... it was me. Y/N. I am sorry. I really did not mean it to turn out that way I-"

"Okay first of all, why?"

"I..."

"Second of all, whilst I am grateful for your support and stuff, it does make me uncomfortable."

"I'm-"

"Thirdly, actually you know what focus on point number one."

When you did not hear an answer, you tried again: "Hello? I am waiting."

"I like you."

"...What?" you were left in shock.

You had suppressed your feelings for San in the deepest caverns of your soul out of the terror that it was bound to be unrequited, but here you were. Listening to that same man who had supported you from the beginning of your career to now (and exposing yet another ridiculous attempt at that), who had read your quirks and style and knew you better than most. Listening to him confess.

"I... how do I say this... it has been a while. A long while. I have been trying to approach you but... I was either too shy for it, or the attempts were just ridiculous. So we- so I came up with this idea, to try and tell you... this book right. The Beauty of Falling in Love. It is... it spoke to me. And I had planned to give it to you piece by piece until I could then reveal myself to you... but then we started talking outside of that and then I panicked and- yeah, I am... I am just so sorry, this is confusing as hell."

"Wait... wait wait... this is... so were you paying me to get me to like you? Was that what you were doing?"

"GOSH! NO! NO, DON'T MISUNDERSTAND!"

"Look. As much as I do like bringing joy to people through my work, this crosses a line. And it's not the fact that you ordered something from me - hell, support the artist right? It's the fact that you decided to be somebody else. You decided to conceal yourself to talk to me. Like you did not trust me. Even though you want me to like you.

I'll be returning the money to you shortly. M-kay? And... talk on stage, I guess."

Before San could respond, you ended the call sharply. No more phone calls. They were cursed, apparently.

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

---

"Maybe... just maybe if you had seen it through and not abandoned ship... your ship could have sailed?"

"Yunho just because it's your idea does not mean is good!" San retorted, having recounted the story to the members, gone into full crisis mode.

"Hello!? You agreed? I am just generating ideas here."

"I think we all blew this out of proportion and did not consider risks... at all." Mingi interjected, massaging his temples.

"You guys, I have an idea-" Wooyoung began, but was quickly cut off by San, who was already half way out of the door.

"You know what? I am done with the ideas. I will just do what I think is right."

---

You were conflicted. In a way, you had gotten what you wanted. A confession from your crush that you had been quietly keeping in the shadows. But at the same time, your anxiety spiked. Were you that unapproachable that San had to have twisted everything to get to you? Was your work more entertaining than you could ever be?

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

If your presence was not explicitly required at the venue, you would not go. Once an event ended, you would leave. If anything, you were acting just like any employee would.

You were trying to bury the conflicting feelings that you were experiencing. To an extent, you felt disrespected. Like you had been mistreated via the means of 'i am using your translation services so you should love me'. And it was one unpleasant thought.

So, you stuck to what you knew and were more or less confident in. Words that were not yours. ideas that were not yours. Feelings that were not yours.

In a matter of an hour after the first small event, however, you could not sulk in your room how you wanted, thanks to a random slip of paper being shoved under your door. You ran across the room and slammed it open in an attempt to catch the culprit, but there was no one in sight.

You gingerly picked up the papers, and read. It was unmistakable. It was the next chapter of the book, with an interesting translation on another sheet of paper, and an additional note.

"I am sorry, and I can only hope that you will read this and let me fight. <3 San"

As much as you were ready to forgive him then and there, you decided that you wanted to see just how far he was going to go.

The next morning - another letter had arrived. The next chapter, a translation, and another note.

During filming for a morning show, San had shot you numerous glances in an attempt to see whether you were even reading what he had been Amazon Priming to your room, but with a cheeky smile dancing on your lips, you let your fun continue.

Another package.

And another.

And another. Until, finally, the last chapter had arrived. At least that was what you thought right up until the evening of the same day. You had assumed that it was going to now be your turn to act, or at least to start talking again, but a loud knock jolted you out of your thoughts.

And another.

And another knock on the door. This man was an unstoppable force.

"I... I translated the last one. Well, tried to."

"But there were only eleven stories-"

"Nope, twelve. Here."

You saw a two pieces of paper appear from under the door, just like before. Except instead of the Korean page being a scan from the book, it was evidently a document that either San... or somebody else, had typed up, and then managed to print.

To be respectful, you attempted to read the Japanese, but soon enough gave up since the kanji somehow managed to look cursive, and instead took the Korean text in your hands.

You took a seat with your back against the door and knees almost flush against your chest, and began to read, your heart rate picking up pace as soon as you saw "Dear Y/N,".

It began as a little story. A re-telling of how both of you had met, and how you had come to own a little space in his heart, eventually leading to him simply giving it to you.

"Did you know that you look so beautiful in those moments when you don't think anyone is watching? The more I think about it, the more I feel like it has been what had drawn me in. How you typed and typed on your phone. If time allowed, I liked to try guessing whether you were going to switch the keyboard at some point or not. How you were and are in your element. And of course, how you are, simply, you."

He recalled the moments that you two had shared. The levels of pride and admiration he felt when he saw you being approached and congratulated by the fans, and when he could take a moment to just enjoy what you did.

San moved to explaining 'the plan' to you, and though you were ready to scold him then and there (especially since there was the door between you that made confrontation easier), you could not help but admit that the general notion (aside from making affection and crushing on someone a monetary exchange - better not put feels on Etsy) was heartwarming.

As it turned out, both of you were shy dorks who could not act on feelings. Admittedly, one of you was a LOUD shy dork and the other a 'language is life but still can't read between the lines' shy dork, but at least you made it here.

San was a nervous wreck, barely stopping himself from either pacing up and down the corridor or going into a meltdown and lying face down on the carpet. He already looked suspicious enough as is, just standing by a random hotel number like a vampire who had been refused entry.

Or perhaps more accurately, like a cat who had been shut out of the house and was now desperately trying to claw its way back in.

But that stress was quickly washed away when your form suddenly appeared before him, peeking out, drowning in an oversized hoodie. The papers were still clenched in your hand as you motioned for San to come in.

You waited until he was right in the middle of the room before closing the door. Part of you was afraid that he was going to nope out at any moment. You needed the reassurance. The confidence that was normally there when you were working. But every fiber of your being was screaming in protest, wanting simply to hide.

You observed him. He looked like he was barely breathing.

"I... really I am... so sorry... again... I know that it was so fooli-"

"私でもあなたのことが好きだ..." (I like you too)

"eXCUSEME?!"

"All this translating and you still can't process?" you joked, but began to pull on the drawstrings of your hoodie in an attempt to make your face disappear.

"ohHH NoONOOO I just want to hear you say it in every language that you know!!!" San exclaimed and in a matter of seconds was inches away, peeking at what was not yet concealed by the fluffy cotton.

As he leaned closer and closer, flustering you (and himself) in the process and took both of your hands in his, in the last leap of bravery you whispered:

"Well that, you'll have to earn, San. And I don't take traditional currency."

"You will never let that go."

"Never ever, Choi San, it's a core memory now."

"Well hey at least it means you are not letting go of me~"

"Oh the way you twist words..."

"Like you twist me around your finger, not to give you an ego trip or anything..."

"It's 'wrap'. The correct word is 'wrap' around a finger."

"Okay you know what how about I translate it to body language?" he puckered his lips, making you giggle.

"As long as I don't need to correct grammatical errors."

"Now now I'd say I'm fluent."

The habit of sliding notes under your door or passing them to you did not stop - it only got stronger and became an 'any location', Mission Impossible note transfer agreement.

It had become something of a game, muddling languages together and writing near-nonsense just to sit there almost crying, trying not to laugh.

Soon enough, the game spread to Wooyoung, who would on occasion intercept the messages and add in his own flair, and soon enough to a curious Yunho and Mingi, who then turned it into impromptu paper plane throwing tournaments.

Really, the only reason why Hongjoong did not intercept was because you managed to at least keep the messages under strict PG rating and had good aim - with a saving swoop you had managed to return one such airmail right into San's lap during a fan sign, leading ATINY to give you an additional "aimbot" title.

It did not matter what the schedule was, you left each other encouraging notes (and without the other knowing, stored them away in your luggage).

"Good luck being the first one to get hair and makeup done..."

"Good luck with the translation deal on the book <3" (after an entire evening of a pouting and pleading San, you had reached out to the editors of the romance book you had translated for him, and now were in very promising negotiations)

You raced ahead, in time with each other, creating your own language.

The extended time ATEEZ had spent in Japan was coming to an end, and in the blink of an eye, it was the final concert. The "closing remarks", the epilogue.

You were prepared to interpret in full, as always. One member down. Another... finally, it was only San left. The other members were looking at him expectantly, while some sent glances in your approximate direction.

You took Hongjoong's tranquility and him nudging San in the shoulder as a sign that no, you will not have to pretend he said something different and double speak it - whatever he was about to do was, apparently, captain certified.

At that moment, San pulled out a note from a pocket that you had no idea even existed. The action seemed to have the same effect on ATINY as they "oooohed" - Yunho fake whispered into the microphone that San was now a part-time magician, so these things were the norm.

You had your microphone at the ready. With bated breath, you waited for San to begin. And that, he did.

In Japanese.

Grammatically correct, coherent and well-delivered Japanese.

Even though some of the phrases were obviously not his style and word selection, leading you to imagine him poring over this text like he was writing the declaration of independence with the boys, it was him. It was his feeling. It was his message.

Your arm fell to your side with a thud, and you were grateful that your microphone had been turned off for the time being. You caught yourself gaping, and had to forcibly compose yourself to reveal only a soft smile, as you took the scene in.

San was not exactly trying to hide that he was paying special attention to a specific part of the arena, with his body turned almost completely in your direction and only a few glances off to the sides and at the note.

"...and I hope that we will always be together, as one, and share this world. sometimes there may be struggle, there may be darkness, but WE," he makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if highlighting the area in front of him, but really it was just to, again, symbolise that certain someone at the forefront of his mind, "will last, and be the light."

The crowd roared, and you could allow yourself to internally combust as you watched ATEEZ wave, bow and bid their farewells.

Some things did not need a translation to be understood, and some things were not up for interpretation.

Like how San sprinted to you as soon as he was out of public sight. How he swept you off your feet both literally and metaphorically.

How Jongho muttered 'get a room', but still smiled at both of you when he passed by.

How, upon your return to South Korea, he had practically made it his mission to dote on you, and any moment he got, show that you were together.

Matching plushies? Check.

Basically exposing you both on Late Night Dive (though there was not really anything to expose because the entire ordeal was almost a live streamed ATEEZ drama)? Check.

Happily chatting away with ATINY about love and about finding it, sending loving stares your way? Check.

This was the love language you shared. No hiding, no scheming. Two native speakers, who found each other in translation.

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 1 year ago

Note

Assuming Aro and Carlisle were both on the same dating app, what are their profiles like? Ie, how do they present themselves to attract others (and I know they're already in relationships let's just blame the dating app gift vampire).

Bonus points for Elezear because he's the worst.

I want to know what AU has caused vampire dating apps.

I can only assume we're in one of those cutesy AH AUs where Carlisle is a barista (not allowed to be a doctor anymore) and Aro is a cutthroat lawyer at his practice Volterra, and the pair totally aren't into each other except they are and find out over the course of thirty chapters how these two get together over hard to remember coffee orders!!!, or as you say the Dating App Vampire, we'll call him Larry the Lovebird, has used his gift to bless every vampire with profiles.

But alright, I can pretend this is another blog for a moment and that I do write Ao3 fics instead of eldrtich monstrosities.

Aro

We know from Aro's hunt for Sulpicia that he was looking for a very specific kind of person and not afraid to shop around to find them. More, with his gift and long life, I imagine he'd be less willing to discard someone based on things others do (having a degree is not a sign of intelligence, he doesn't really care what class someone is from, so on and so forth). I imagine he'd take a similar approach on a dating app. Except, in the most ridiculous way possible.

See, Aro's going to want to cast a wide net and he has his gift to cheat.

So, he's going to make himself as interesting as possible, certainly non-threatening (me? ever kill someone? perish the thought) just to get that first date where he can touch your hand and decide "yes" or "no" based off of every thought you've ever had.

Now, he can't do "generically" interesting as in online dating culture "long walks on the beach", "love hiking in the mountains", are all things everyone says they do but 5% of the people who actually say it do. He'd not only look basic, but he'd look like a liar (which he is).

So, I imagine what Aro does is present himself as a very niche persona then change that persona every few months in the dating rounds.

One month, Aro's really into heavy metal, really, super, into heavy metal. His profile is a bunch of quotes about heavy metal. The next, he's a gym bro. The next, he's a lover and poet.

Mostly, Aro just uses it as a way to meet interesting people, get interesting stories, and troll around while keeping an eye out for someone he'd actually find interesting.

(Though the real answer is that he wouldn't, as he already did this thousands of years ago with Sulpicia, and it doesn't seem like a hobby he'd pick up in this modern day.)

Carlisle

He fundamentally does not understand dating apps and has no desire to seek someone out in a relationship "oh ho ho, have I told you about my baggage where I'm a man-eating demon who can never get close to everyone, survives constantly starved, and more?"

I imagine his app is just his name and his face.

That's it.

He looks like a lazy attempt at cat fishing.

Eleazar

Now, I don't know about Eleazar, his participation in the Denali escapades is technically up in the air, but I know the Denali would likely have dating apps.

But if Eleazar had one, if we're going wtih my interpretation of the worst man alive, then it is a sight to behold.

Eleazar in leather pants with a rose between his lips (he is Spanish you know) lying on a couch looking at the camera seductively behind a black and white filter (partly to make him look less like a demon, partly for the sexy). Eleazar shirtless in front of a mirror in an artsy shot that looks either out of a style magazine cover or the film Zoolander.

All the quotes amount to "I will blow your mind", but said more eloquently and often in Spanish.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #aro #carlisle cullen #eleazar #meta #headcanon #opinion

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rosietrace · 10 months ago

Note

Ah! Ok so hi Rosie!! For the Valentine ask can I get my lovely boy Cyrus with Sumeragi, And let’s go with the subtle love ask with number 20 and perhaps accidental affection with ❅.

Have fun with this and take your time babes <3

(Also I noticed that if these two were to genuinely get together they would be the black cat x golden retriever duo😭)

Hi Cece!! You have sent, and I shall deliver ‼️‼️🕊️‼️🕊️🕊️‼️‼️

Watercolor Eyes

(Central) Characters Featured: Cyrus Olympia, Sumeragi Yuuta

↳ { Cyrus belongs to @/cecilebutcher • @/twst-stupid-ocs }

Others mentioned/featured: Dire Crowley

Pairing: Queerplatonic! Cyrus Olympia & Sumeragi Yuuta

Event: Valentine's Day 2024 💌

↳ Type: Requested Oneshot! 「 Prompt 20 — “Stopping themselves from messaging the other too often” • ❅ — “My muse cuddling up to yours” 」

Synopsis: Cyrus can't seem to stop spending time with Yuuta, let alone stop messaging him!... Even during moments when Yuuta's right next to him.

Warning(s): Ambiguous relationship between Cyrus and Yuuta (interpret it however you will), black cat x golden retriever™, Yuuta's a bitch but what else is new, Crowley mentions 😨, potentially ooc, mostly based on that lyric of ‘Dear Arkansas Daughter’

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

†•°•══════ஓ๑「❀」๑ஓ══════•°•†

Cyrus had heard a lot about Yuuta from Nestor, most of which were negative.

One of the more notable things Cyrus had heard about the anomalistic prefect of Ramshackle dormitory was that he wasn't of this world— and in his own, joking way, Cyrus could see that in the way Yuuta presented himself.

They weren't doing much while they were lounging on his bed; Both of them doing their own thing while still vaguely acknowledging the presence of the other once every 15 minutes, or so.

Yuuta sat against the headboard, legs straight and folded over the other while he focused his attention on taking notes for his next alchemy ‘reduction exam’.

Cyrus on the other hand was busy scrolling through his phone, calmly listening to his own music in the process.

After another long moment of continuous yet calming silence, Yuuta lightly tapped Cyrus’ shoulder. “Cy.”

Cyrus turned to Yuuta, cocking his head to the side at what the latter decided was a precarious angle. “What?”

“How the hell do you work around this formula?” Yuuta motioned to one of the formulas in his textbook.

Cyrus let out an “Ah”, scooting somewhat closer to give Yuuta a more thorough elaboration on how to go about that particular poison formula.

It was almost outrageous and concerning how good Cyrus was at poison-making. Then again, Yuuta's faced classmates and the occasional student from a rival academy with even stranger hobbies and talents.

Back to the point, however, Cyrus couldn't help but sneak a glance at the prefect once every hundred seconds during his elaboration.

He couldn't even scold himself for not focusing enough.

Yuuta was unironically attractive to Cyrus; His dark brown hair styled in a ponytail quite similar to his own, his seemingly 1920s-inspired way of dress— even when, at times, Yuuta wore the kind of revealing outfits he'd seen male idols wear. The kind of outfits 1920s men probably would have shot themselves for before they could even begin to fathom wearing something like that.

His most striking feature, however, was his lavender eyes. Cyrus believed eyes were the window to the soul, and there seemed to be quite the mysteriousness to the lavender hues of Yuuta's set, in particular.

The shade matches him, Cyrus thought to himself while he stole another glance.

By that point, however, Cyrus had been caught red-handed and earned a skeptical raise of Yuuta's brow in reply.

“What’re you looking at?” Yuuta questioned, his voice cautious. “Is there… Something on my face?”

Other than pure handsomeness? Cyrus shook his head at the sudden offhandedly thrown comment, earning an even more bewildered expression out of Yuuta.

“Cy,” Yuuta snapped two fingers in front of Cyrus' face. A feeble attempt at garnering his attention once more. “Earth to- Wonderland to Cyrus— you still with me?”

Once again, Cyrus found himself getting lost in the lavender hue of his irises. The way they resembled the smooth pigment of watercolor.

He found his focus… After staring into them for that small, sacrilegious eternity.

“I'm here… I'm fine.”

•❀°─────────°❀•

Cyrus took up messaging Yuuta to avoid getting distracted again.

Not only to just give him the explanations through text — because Yuuta's attention span was about as questionable as Dire Crowley's — but also to just… Blurt out random topics.

It had the disadvantage of silently pissing him off, though.

It wasn't even every 15 minutes anymore, it was every second when Cyrus had something new and random pop up in his mind. And when that happened, he'd tell it to Yuuta even if he didn't respond or express his opinion on it.

Cy ✨

Yuuta

Cy ✨

Did it hurt when u fell?

Yuuta's eye twitched in irritation. What the hell is he on about this time?

Cy ✨

Y'know, when u fell from the stairs that one time I came to visit u

One moment Cyrus was a flirt, the next he just said things that just happened to piss Yuuta off.

And it went on like that for the next. Three. Hours.

Pick-up line after pick-up line, Cyrus cemented himself as even more of an egotistical flirt than Yuuta could ever hope to be.

And some lines weren't exactly… “Family friendly”, at times. Nothing too inappropriate, just stuff that most people wouldn't use as pick-up lines.

Once he got really pissed off, Yuuta just… Snatched Cyrus's phone out of his grasp without even bothering to look at him, in the process.

Cyrus gasped in what could only be described as the energy of an overdramatic theater kid. “Yuuta-! Give my phone ba-”

“Ah ah ah,” Yuuta shook his finger in his face, a cocky grin gracing his unfortunately endearing face. “No can do, Cy. I'm not giving it back yet.”

“It's my phone.”

“I know.”

“You will give it back, Yuuta.”

“I can promise that,” Yuuta's grin transitioned into a smirk. Oh, how Cyrus wished it didn't have the kind of effect on him as it did. “I'll give you your phone back after a while…”

Wildly unnecessary, it was for Yuuta to hold Cyrus’ chin the way he did.

“On two conditions.”

Cyrus scoffed. Whatever the conditions were, he figured it had something to do with the obvious fact that he could've just talked to Yuuta instead of texting him— he was right next to him, after all.

“One,” — he held up one finger — “you continue helping me with my notes.”

That, Cyrus can do. But then Yuuta held up a second finger, and that made him feel slightly uneasy.

“... You actually talk to me in person, instead of distracting yourself on your phone and texting me as some compromise.”

Well then.

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus pulled away from the grip Yuuta had on his chin, hiding away whatever flushed feelings he had from having his face so close to his own.

Regardless of how he felt… He knew that getting too close to Sumeragi Yuuta would be his undoing— to feel so endeared by a man who would only put himself first, had it not been for the circumstances of losing the only person he truly cared about.

A person Cyrus Olympia could never compare himself, to.

†•°•══════ஓ๑「❀」๑ஓ══════•°•†

Taglist

—

Written for

@cecilebutcher / @twst-stupid-ocs

—

🥥

@starry-night-rose || @jasdiary || @authoruio || @nem0-nee || @fumikomiyasaki || @sakuramidnight15

—

「 Etteilla ♢」

@geminiiviolets || @twsted-princess || @terrovaniadorm / @hallowed-delights || @abyss-wonderer || @mystery-skulls-ghost || @twistedsongstressofstarz / @absolutelyobsessedkiya

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dkniade · 1 year ago

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Can I just say that I’m glad to see more fans of datsugoku here? LIKE ITS SO SO GOOD AND GOD SO TRAGICC THEY DESERVED BETTER!! Also also your analysis on Oktavia’s cover was FUCKING AMAZING HOLY HELLL/pos

(If anyone’s curious about the song mentioned here, note that the first link’s music video contains flashing lights and rapid motions, and the themes include violence and character death)

Thank you so much!! I really love Datsugoku’s MV for telling such a story in a mere 3 minutes and 47 seconds while combining music/lyrics/visuals together well. I remember how I used to really look up to sidu for her work on Datsugoku, particularly for its lighting and video editing haha. Over the years her artstyle has changed but Datsugoku is one of my favourite “phases” of her art style I’d say

(I think to this day if I’m trying to get someone into Neruke I’d just send them the MV haha)

But as a song it’s just really cool to listen to as well. The riff at the start, that guitar solo in the middle (I wrote a post about my interpretation of the solo’s narrative significance) IT’S SO GOOD. One of the best—or most memorable?—solos Neru has written I think. I like that you can get one interpretation based on the music/lyrics themselves, and another slightly different interpretation based on the MV (since what’s described in the lyrics don’t exactly match what’s happening on-screen even though they’re describing the same event.) This mismatch (?) in how the media forms are staggered (?) is so cool, like when the LYRICS say (using my translation)—

Slamming down on the rusted throttle

with all that I’ve got—

so hard that I’d break my bones—

Right now, let’s break through reality

—but the ANIMATION shows the moments before, where Kawasemi throws the knife to rip off Kuina’s blindfold, mouthes something in a cocky way, and runs away to start the chase…!

(Note that the next link here goes to a post which links to a video with flashing lights and rapid motions.)

AH speaking of a tragic ending that deserved better, back in 2021 I was able to participate in a Neruke 10th anniversary fan medley MV, and did the illustration for Datsugoku! The section chosen was of course the very guitar solo itself so I tried to depict a scene of freedom and happiness in the illustration. Whether the smiling and relaxed Kawasemi is alive in the illustration is up to interpretation, haha…

It’s to match lyrics like—(note that this section of the lyrics kiiind of alludes to metaphoric drugs, and again character death)—

“Increasing the altitude without a change in your expression, you laugh”

(“顔色変えず高度上げて君は笑う”)

and

“As the engine heats up, I don’t care about what’s happening to the plane’s body, so high I was in the blue heavens”

(“エンジンがヒートして　機体がどうしたって気にもしない程に　トリップしてしまう大空は偉大さ”)

UE UE UE KAWASEMI YOU BASTARD WITH NO SELF-PRESERVATION (affectionate). Looking at it again, as a loanword from English,トリップして (trip-shite) likely refers to tripping (on drugs)… as in he’s in such a state of ecstasy—in seventh heaven, if you will—it’s like he’s high. ….oh my god hence Oktavia’s line:

“Though the engine overheats, the plane begins to dive / I don’t care, it’s right in front of me / The Seventh Heaven finally on the bright side”

(Long ramble about Oktavia’s lyrics, Japanese lyrics, English translyrics, melody, and phonology here)

As for my initial reaction Oktavia’s encore cover, thank you!! As I’ve mentioned in the reaction/analysis post I really like how she writes lyrics. Rhythmically, I’ve realized that it’s not just about fitting the Japanese lyrics’ syllables to English words while retaining the meaning, it’s about sonority (relative loudness of a speech sound) and how the sonority of the English lyrics should sound with the melody—and as a poet and occasional (English cover) lyricist who tries to rhyme and keep the rhythm, THAT’S REALLY DIFFICULT. I think… a vocal melody written for a song in Japanese would probably take advantage of how Japanese is mostly consonant-vowel (e.g. Datsugoku can be split up to da-tsu-go-ku, but don’t quote my on the technicalities), but rewrite the lyrics to English without thinking of rhythm and suddenly it’s hard to sing lyrics when they’re all mushed together, be it because the sonority just don’t work, or that there are too many consonants…

For example, it’s easier to sing

あの頃僕ら夢を見ていたんだ

(Ano koro bokura yume o miteita nda)

than it is to sing, say,

“Back then the two of us would dream of better lives than this”

even though the syllable count matches (do you know how hard it was to intentionally write a line that’d mess with the syllabic stress in relation to the melody)

SO THAT’S WHY I LOVE OKTAVIA’S LYRIC

“Tell me you remember when we’d dream of another life.”

The way the consonants at the ends of the words follow the vowels at the beginning of the next word makes it flow SO WELL. It seems she writes the lyrics based more on the melody’s ups-and-downs itself instead of the Japanese syllables, if that makes sense?

Oktavia’s mentioned something similar about rhyming and syllables in Japanese vs English lyrics once

“it is interesting though that rhyming is so integral to english lyrics but like in other languages (japanese) that sort of culture doesn't exist

my theory is that it's because english has so many different pronunciations to learn rhymes are more appealing 'cause they're rarer? vs japanese where because of the syllable system you can write lyrics that rhyme MUCH easier so it's not as prioritized???? idk”

The syllable system in Japanese is different from English so maybe it sounds nice in English when a (relatively) complicated syllabic system suddenly has rhymes where it usually wouldn’t…?

Ahaha, anyway, thank you for the ask! I was able to ramble about Datsugoku’s lyrics and gain more insight on the song even after a year…

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honouredsatoru · 4 years ago

Text

JJK Characters x You on a date

notes : I tried including Gojo's love for Digimon since I also grew up watching Digimon and loving the anime with all of my heart, also because Gojo's seiyuu, both Japanese and English versions, voiced for characters in Digimon, so I wanna pay homage to the both of them. other than that, I also included my love for arts and history, something I tried to incorporate into my writing, just to make it like.. lilith's style, ya know?

extra notes : also I wrote megumi for Elli, just because haha.

warnings : slight cussing. not proofread lol. other than that, none. 100% fluff!

characters : gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, nanami kento, itadori yuji.

Gojo Satoru - Arcades, vintage shops, especially collectors, especially Digimon, comic book/manga stores.

[Your name]! [Your name!]! Look, look! It's the Digimon Adventure V-Tamer 01 series! All 9 of them! Let's get in!"

"Ahh hold on. Towu! We're supposed to visit the cat cafe, you promised that you would go with me and take pictures with the cat hairband on! And I'm starving!"

You jokingly scowled at him, tapping your Doc Martens feet on the ground, arms folding.

"Fucking adorable. Let me see if I can tease her more, hah." A smirk soon appeared on this blue-eyed darling of yours.

"Let me get the manga and I promise, I'll go to this cat cafe with you, baby. Hm?"

"Oh alright."

"I love you, sweetheart. I know how much you wanted to go there but the manga. I- ahaaaa"

He started pouting as he kept pointing in the direction of the Digimon manga by the window. You quickly opened your camera, taking pictures of him sulking, emitting a soft giggle that actually made his heart squeezed with joy.

He presses his lips against your forehead, thumb circling your cheek, gently squishing them before opening the door, yanking you into the comic book store with him. You vowed to hide the comic books once he goes on a mission. After all, he made you wait a month before the two of you finally get to go to this cafe you always wanted to visit.

"Baby, I can read what you're thinking. Your face shows it too. Hehe. Watch me hide your panties."

Taking in a few gulps of air to deepen your breath, you opened your eyes, to meet the love of your life's own eyes, snickering at you, his large hands on the crown of your head before ruffling your already messy hair. There is no way you can stay mad at this man, as childish as he is, you know he loves you and deep down? He knows you love him too.

Itadori Yuji - Thrift stores, internet cafes to play online games with you, cinemas.

"Candy! [Your name] love! Don't! Make! Me! Ahhh cover up for me! I am gonna lose! I am gonna-"

He turns around to face you with soft eyes, his eyebrows slightly droopy before looking back at the computer, taking in the seconds in his head to register the fact that he lost in his mission with you in Inferno.

"Awww sorry babe. I mean.. you just started playing CSGO, so tell me, why- again- damn it- you wanna- AH. Damn it! Throw the fucking grenade! I mean why you wanna play this game, you need more practice- FUCK YOU."

Gentle chuckles were heard, emitted from his throat, his soft, peach toned lips landed on your cheek repeatedly as he rubbed soothing circles around your back.

"Breathe, bunny baby. You're so feisty whenever you start having online matches. Breathe. I love you, and I don't want you to get your blood pressure rising because of these dumbos, hm?"

Your lips curl into a faint and appreciative smile, nodding while your eyes are glued to the screen, ignoring the fading laughs and snickers from the people acknowledging your mini rage.

"I love you too. If I win, I'm getting us boba and chicken nuggets. So let me fight them, okie?"

"Yes ma'am!"

Megumi - Museums, art galleries, photo exhibitions, aesthetic cafes.

"Oh Gumi bear, look at that! That is the Raft of Medusa, it was done by Thèodore Géricault, he himself interviewed two survivors from the shipwreck."

He looks over your eyes that shine with excitement and pure happiness.

"Art"

Was what he thought every time he laid his sight onto you. God knows that he falls in love with you every single time he is blessed with your presence. Resting his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, inhaling the scent of mixed berries and wild roses, he swore he heard his heartbeat increasing every two seconds in a span of one minute.

"Oh really? What do you think this painting is all about?"

Glancing at him before returning to the painting, you puffed your cheeks, pressing your lips together with your index finger curled on your chin and your thumb under it.

"Lord, she is so cute whenever she does that. Can I kiss her? Should I? No wait, she's trying to tell me her own interpretation of this painting. To me. Oh wow. I'm gonna kiss her... later. I can't interrupt her." That is all he could think of. You. He is deeply, madly, beautifully in love with you.

"In my opinion, it tells me the ways of how men, or human beings, seek out in order to survive. When we are at the brink of desperation, insanity, happiness, greed, lust, desire, wrath, grief, don't we all do things unimaginable to help us go through the day? They even resolved to cannibalism. I think even I would commit to that if I was in an extremely dire situation."

You looked at him, a wide smile on your face, emitting a soft giggle that entered his right ear and stayed within the chambers of his mind. He closed the spaces between the both of you, sealing his lips onto yours, with the intention of making this very moment last a little longer heavy within his heart.

"Art."

Was what you thought of him.

Nanami Kento - Theatres, historical museums, fine dining restaurants.

You squealed, lightly clapping your hands as you ran to a block of marble, your foot tapping against the floor. He chuckles, hands in his pocket, taking fast strides towards you.

"Namnam! Look look! That's the Parthenon Sculptures! It was founded in hm... Athens, yes! If I am not mistaken, around 438 to 432 BC. These sculptures decorated the insides of the Parthenon, it is a temple located at the fortress of the Athenian Acropolis. It is said that this temple was built to appreciate and worship the Goddess Athena, she was the deity worship in Athens. Also, ah ah! Did you know that the word parthénos means "maiden", "girl" or ‘virgin"? And I-"

You look at him, your magnificent lover wearing a dark brown trench coat, with ecru brown trousers and a black turtleneck tucked in, his neck layered with white gold necklaces. Your hand unconsciously scratches your sideburns, giggling at the side of his stoic expression, eyes piercing yours beneath that yellow-green glasses he constantly has on his chiseled face.

"Oh... I am sorry... I didn't mean to bore you. I was just so excited because you know me! I love anything that is related to ancient greek history and mythology. I can't seem to get enough of it and it is absolut-

"I'm not bored, [your name]. I was just paying attention to every single word that pretty lips of yours uttered. It's magnificent that you knew all of this. It shows just how smart, curious, bright your mind and soul is. And darling?"

"Huh?"

"I am lucky to be blessed with someone like you. With Gojo constantly following me, there is no way I can read the books I bought for myself. However, having you around, breaking the ice with your random history tib bits, I feel like I am reading the pages, savouring each word, alphabet, sentence, thus expanding my quest and love for knowledge."

You looked down. Normally, you're not the type to tear up this easily but seeing how this man, this angel of a man, appreciates the little things you loved and adored, you can't help but let the waterworks out. You lifted your head up to meet his gaze, the tip of your nose slightly stuffy. You grabbed his arms, clinging onto him, the difference of height and size makes it sweet to the eyes of strangers surrounding you both.

"Oh Namnam. Thank you so much. This means the world to me. Shall we... go and see the best of Ramesses the Great? I've loads to tell you!"

Nobara - Shopping malls, ferry rides, beach dates, parks with cherry blossoms.

"Baby... tell me, have you ever seen anything as joyous as the ocean?"

You two stood by the seashore, fingers intertwined, your head resting on her shoulders, the sound of the seas splashing against the rocks and the warmth around your foot, it tingled but it feels good at the same time.

"I don't want this moment to end, [your name]."

"Why is that, pretty one?"

A faint sigh leaves her lips, you feeling her body loosen up.

"I just.. school is sort of stressful so my time spent with you liberates me from the pressure, fatigue, and image of curses embedded in my brain. Walking with you... through this airy womb of skies and clouds, don't you know it makes me happy?"

You leaned closer, pressing a soft peck on her cheeks, earning yourself a pair of scarlet cheeks with a gorgeous smile from the one next to you. You turned yourself to face her, hands on her shoulders, bringing her body closer to yours.

"Whenever and wherever you need me, I will be there. I might not be perfect, but I am gonna do my best to be the one you can always count on."

You pressed a kiss on her left cheek.

"I love you."

A kiss on her right cheek.

"I love you."

A kiss to the lips of the woman whom you shared your entire universe with.

"To the moon and back, I love you, Kugisaki Nobara."

The end.

tags : @tojisveryown @sookyshima @megumifushi @sixeyesgojo @sirthisisa-wendys @sasso-oda @fushigurocockslut @nkogneatho @kotarousgf @noritoshiikamo

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Text

fluffy hair

wc: 1.2k (fluff)

tom x ag!reader - tom joins the reader in her interview

"Y/N! It's been awhile!" Zach greeted you through the screen, and you laughed, nodding your head.

"I miss you guys there, in the studio. How is everything?"

"Good, good. Everything's chill here. What about you? Album release and all that?"

You giggled again, shrugging. "It was fun, low key, and safe."

"Good, glad to hear that. Should we start?"

"Let's, yes."

"Great. I am so obsessed with this record; we're just gonna go down the line for each song."

"Got it, sounds like a plan." You laughed, looking behind camera, and Zach took note of it before continuing.

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?" you laughed at him, and he went wide eyed.

"Oh! No, no, no, I meant the track, the intro-"

"OH," you laughed again, face palming yourself. "Duh, obviously. Continue."

"Right. It's very... melodic, with what, the strings and everything. And your voice cuts in and just tells all those haters to shut up and- what was the meaning behind that?"

You laughed, looking off camera to Tom for a split second before answering. "Well, I mean. With everything happening, it's hard not to tell people to just like," you put your hands up, palms outward in a stop position. "to just- shut the fuck up, y'know? We're fighting for our lives, all these white, straight old... men."

Zach laughed, nodding, and the conversation continued until you switched subjects to the next song.

"Thirty-four plus thirty-five," he state with a grin. "Now what's that about."

You laughed loudly, shaking your head at Tom while he told you a joke.

"Is someone back there?" Zach cut in with a laugh. "They can join if you'd like."

You looked to Tom before shrugging sheepishly, and he rolled his eyes before plopping next to you on the beanbag.

"This is Tom, the inspiration."

"Y/N!"

You laughed, looking to the camera. "I'm joking, joking," you kissed his forehead, ruffling his hair. "He's my lovely little boyfriend."

"Mhm," he hummed in satisfaction.

You went on to answer the question, "Well, when Peter sent some string samples over, I heard this one and it was so pure and sweet and completely.. Disney, if you will. And I was sitting with Scotty and Tom and I was like 'what's the dirtiest thing we can write with this?' and well, we got thirty-four thirty-five."

Zach laughed, "So it's not based on real life?"

You laughed before Michael, the other interviewer, cut in with a comment.

"I actually didn't know it was about sixty-nine until the outro," he laughed, and so did you.

"Ah- good, that's good actually. Enjoy it without being told how you're supposed to interpret it."

"Did Tom contribute anything to the song? Let's- let's go in depth with the lyrics and how you came up with them."

You laughed again before answering. "Well, I was working on the first verse with Scotty and I was like 'what the fuck can we put here?' and he- he jokingly said 'gimme them babies' and I was like 'holy shit that's perfect. That's going in. We're not changing that.'" You looked to Tom, whose arm was around your waist. "Tommy came in not long after that and wrote the pre-chorus. He was so intent on putting the 'I been drinking coffee,' part. It ended up being my favorite out of the song. He was in the studio with me when we recorded that, basically telling me how to sing it. It was hilarious and scary how bossy and smart he was about producing a song."

Tom rolled his eyes, kissing your temple.

"Is that true, Tom?"

Tom blushed as he answered. "Yeah. She had just gotten new string samples and she was super excited about and I just- I wanted to be there, make memories. Especially since, at the time, I wasn't working."

"Tom what's your favorite track?"

"I think," he thought for a moment. "Well I like all of them, but I like 'my hair' a lot."

"Also inspired by him," You cut in cheekily, and he eyed you with a playful glare.

"Did you contribute on a lot of tracks?"

"Oh for sure," Tom nodded. "It was quite an experience; doing music instead of acting. It's so strange to me, but it was amazing fun."

"Which track did you do the most work on."

You laughed, and Tom rolled his eyes.

"Probably 'nasty.'"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was there when she was recording vocals, and I just kept telling her to do it again."

"That's actually," you interrupted with a laugh. "that's actually where that intro line is from. 'This bitch really gon' make me,'" you quoted. "because he kept making me doing it again and again and it was hilarious."

"I want to talk about.. six-thirty."

"Okay," you nodded with a smile. "Good track."

"What does it mean? Like the title?"

"Well on a clock," you were motioning with your hands. "The hands are pointing down at six-thirty."

Both of the interviewers oh'ed loudly, laughing at how they hadn't figured it out.

"The bridge in there, I love it so much."

"Thank you, thank you."

"Do you think you've found that person you can play video games with at two A.M.?"

You glanced to Tom with a gentle smile, eyes softening too. "Yeah," you looked to the camera. "For sure, I think I have."

To was giddy at your response, subtly pulling you closer into his side and kissing your temple again.

"Now let's talk about the positions music video."

"Oh this should be fun," Tom commented, and you laughed at him.

"I'm sure everyone else interpreted the title much differently than you did."

You laughed, nodding. "Probably."

"How'd you come up with the concept?"

"Oh, obviously the real world. We need people like that in office- like, imagine if that were the Cabinet of the White House? Women and gays and trans and everyone. I think we're in desperate need of a reboot."

Zach laughed, agreeing. "A reboot of the Cabinet. I like it, and you're absolutely right," he looked to the monitor. "At the end there, you were giving a medal to a postal worker."

"Yeah," you clasped your hands together in excitement. "I think the US postal service has definitely taken a huge hit this year. They've suffered a great deal; I think including that in my video was almost essential. They need to be recognized and acknowledged."

"But also like the step stool," Tom cut in with a laugh. "She was too short for the postal worker and they were like 'we don't have higher heels,' so I brought that out."

"You twat," you laughed, grabbing his nose lightly like in a child's game.

He huffed, laughing, pulling you closer and kissing the tip of your nose in response.

"Can we talk about my hair before we end this lovely interview?" Zach asked once the two of you settled down.

"By all means."

"We'll get to those whistles in a moment, but the whole song is so.. intimate. Have you found someone like that? To- to appreciate your hair in all forms and designs?"

You looked at Tom again, and he blushed, already knowing your answer.

"Yeah, yeah I have. My boyfriend just loves my hair, all styles and colors. It's nice, because I feel like the world doesn't really... see my true hair? But Tommy loves it dearly. It's a special place in my heart for that kind of love."

Tom smiled, head tilting and eyes crinkling, and you ruffled his chocolate curls.

"Also though, I really love his hair. Fluffy."

#tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland x celebrity!reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland hc #tom holland fluffy #boyfriend!tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #fluffy tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland #ariana grande

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kiisaes · 3 years ago

Note

ah, i meant bakudeku just as bakugou and deku in that exactly bakudeku moment, so, i know that your art is of them but they feel a little different from how the canon characters feel to me so... hm, idk. obviously it is all personal interpretations, and i totally agree that that‘s like the point :D or one of them lol? it‘s at least super fun, and i think it‘s cool that people branch out like they do as well, watching the same source material but taking away different things from it and idealizing it in different ways for how they‘d want things to be. saying bakudeku really didn‘t make sense in that moment; that refers to the ship. sorry for the confusion!

(also just to clarify, i‘m rly sorry cause i feel like that‘s weird now too (me going i‘m reconsidering and then going no i‘m good, that doesn‘t rly make sense), what i meant with that is that looking at your art it‘s so clear that they‘re in love so when i look at it i‘m like ah no i see it!, which is kinda dumb ig cause it is ship art like duh. anyway. god that rly doesn‘t make sense at all, cause i just thought yeah i see it in that moment bc i recognize them in the art but then they‘re also in love and that‘s true. but i just said that i don‘t see them as i see the canon characters. i‘m really sorry, i‘ll think it through next time before starting conversations to make sure i don‘t just find out actually i contradict exactly what i said before in the middle of it, i‘m so sorry and so glad the anon feature is a thing lmao. sorry for dumping this messiness in your ask box! and more canon kirishima & bakugou content that i could watch and interpret my ideal kiribaku into would be great hehe, i‘m happy to hear you like an idea of them together too :D and i keep looking at the mangas whenever i‘m in my local bookshop but i feel like it would just be so much money lol, so i haven‘t bought any yet. but yeah, the art style is definitely super super cool :D (not that it would be any less so if i didn‘t agree, tis all obvs also subjective))

again, sorry for the length and sorry for the absolute mess, and thank you for sharing your art :,)🤍

ohh ok! so basically what i'm hearing is that u like bkdk but in the context of mostly fan art (with all of its fan interpretations), not in the actual series? bc if so that's understandable too — fan content will always dramatize a relationship more than what's present in canon and might make it seem more appealing LOL

haha i have no problem with ppl not liking bkdk as a ship or choosing not to ship it for any particular reason, so no worries! i know lots of bkdks can get pretty territorial over their ship tho, so for ur best interest, i'd recommend not going up to random bkdk artists and talking about krbk out of nowhere ^^' i've met a staggering amount of bkdks who don't like krbk at all (the same way i've met lots of krbks who hate bkdk) so probably best to make sure the bkdk is ok with other ships including bkg and deku. it's smart to play it safe — this fandom is already barely keeping it together with ship discourses and i wouldn't want u caught in the crossfire ( ；´Д｀)

despite the severe amount of bkdk i draw, i am a multishipper, so i don't particularly take much offense to these anon asks. as long as u don't come in slandering what i like then u're good lol. i have few notps so it'd always be nice to see more interactions between characters in the manga :') canon krbk has been pretty dry for ... maybe around 2 years now? oh god. which sucks, but hopefully they'll get some stuff soon !!! rooting for u and ur fellow krbks !!!

and u can read the manga online! i used to use bokunoheromanga.com, but it seems to have trouble with showing older chapter pages — or maybe it's just me. now i just use VIZ for every new update but there are definitely sites dedicated to posting the mha manga chapters whenever they come out! (i only buy certain volumes if they have specific arcs or scenes i like lol)

#asks for becki #kiribaku mention

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years ago

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JC Love Month 2020 Day 12

Ego and Inflexibility

Day 12 of JC Love Month brings some more Lan Qiren feelings, who is most definitely fed up with JFM's shitty parenting and he is so over it that he forgets all of his manners. It's exactly what Jiang Cheng deserves.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure what they are waiting for—in front of Lan Qiren’s personal quarters no less—but Jin Ling is inside and so Jiang Cheng waits, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji right by his side.

“Do you know what this is about?” Wei Wuxian asks him suddenly, clearly fed up with waiting already. “A-Yuan is inside, too, but he wouldn’t say what’s going on.”

“Same with Jin Ling,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He would accuse the juniors of shenanigans, but Lan Qiren is involved, so clearly it cannot be that bad. He would have told them to stop otherwise, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

Lan Wangji doesn’t actually contribute anything to the conversation but Jiang Cheng gets the distinct impression that he’s not liking this, either, but then the door opens and the juniors and Lan Qiren step out.

“What is going on here?” Jiang Cheng asks and keeps his gaze on Jin Ling, because he’s bound to break first under his glare.

“I told them not to do it,” is the first thing Jin Ling says, and he does seem strangely guilty, but then Lan Sizhui speaks up and Jiang Cheng turns his attention to him.

“So, here’s the thing,” Lan Sizhui starts, clearly nervous and when he can’t seem to find his words, it’s Lan Jingyi who speaks up.

“We brought back your dad for you,” he says and when Ouyang Zizhen elbows him in the side he let’s out a pained noise.

“We brought Jiang Fengmian back for you,” Ouyang Zizhen clarifies and Jiang Cheng’s mood plummets faster than it has in years.

“Why the hell would you do that?” he demands to know and Lan Jingyi waves his hands at him.

“We didn’t actually bring him back,” he tries to reassure them. “We just called his spirit here and gave it a more solid form, so you can talk to him for the day. Uncle Qiren made sure we did all of it correctly.”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji chastises him, way too mildly if anyone were to ask Jiang Cheng, but Lan Qiren only strokes his beard.

“There’s some catharsis to be found in this, I am certain,” he says and Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath.

He doubts catharsis is the thing they will find here, but it seems like no one cares about his opinion.

“Uncle Fengmian is back?” Wei Wuxian says and he sounds doubtful, but Jiang Cheng knows him well enough to hear the hope in his voice.

“For the day,” Lan Sizhui says. “You always talk so fondly of him, and we thought it would be good for you to talk to him again. And Sect Leader Jiang, he’s your father, we thought you’d like to speak to him, too.”

“I told them they were being stupid,” Jin Ling grumbles and Jiang Cheng has to bite back a small smile.

“We already caught him up on all major events, so you can jump straight in,” Lan Jingyi says excitedly and now Jiang Cheng is glad that Lan Qiren was there all along, because at least like this Jiang Fengmian got the right version of events.

“Fine, let’s do this, it’s not like we’re getting out of this,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh and starts to walk up to the room, when Wei Wuxian stops him.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he lowly asks, and even though they are still mending their relationship, it’s nice to see that they still understand each other like this.

“No,” Jiang Cheng answers honestly but with a shrug. “But there’s nothing to be done about it now, is there? I’m not actually so unfilial as to leave a ghost hanging,” he says and it startles a laugh out of Wei Wuxian just like he hoped.

“Alright, let’s go,” Wei Wuxian suddenly cheerfully says, and leads the way into the room.

Jiang Cheng is surprised to notice how much he forgot about his father in the past twenty years and it’s like a punch to the gut to see him again, unchanged and untouched by time.

Well, being dead will do that to you, Jiang Cheng guesses.

“Uncle Fengmian,” Wei Wuxian yells once inside the room and Jiang Fengmian looks Wei Wuxian up and down with a smile.

“You really do have a new body,” he says, as if Lan Qiren would lie to him about that. “But you’re still unmistakably my A-Ying,” he then adds and Jiang Cheng chooses that moment to step into his sight as well.

“Jiang Cheng,” his father says, looking him up and down much more critical than he had Wei Wuxian. “The spitting image of your mother I see.”

“Thankfully,” Jiang Cheng bites out and sits down, ready to get this over with as soon as possible.

There’s a very small part of him that hopes that he interpreted his father’s actions and words in his childhood wrong, but with how this started, Jiang Cheng knows it’s a foolish hope.

His father is exactly like he remembered him.

“Why are you not wearing purple, A-Ying?” Jiang Fengmian asks Wei Wuxian who throws a love sick look at Lan Wangji.

“Because I’m no longer a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang,” he answers, and while it still stings, they are making their way back to that.

Wei Wuxian forgot Chengqing in his old room last time he visited Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng dares to hope that it means something.

“And why is that?” Jiang Fengmian asks, sending a sharp look at Jiang Cheng.

“Because I married Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian cheerfully says—too cheerfully, if you ask Jiang Cheng—and he throws himself at his husband who catches him easily.

“I see,” Jiang Fengmian says with a small smile. “What a wonderful match.”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian agrees and then Jiang Fengmian turns to Jiang Cheng.

“Are you married?” he asks and Jiang Cheng shakes his head, expecting the sour look on his father’s face.

“I never quite found the time for it,” Jiang Cheng easily says because he long stopped being bothered by that fact.

“Ah, yes, I heard about what happened,” Jiang Fengmian gives back and turns his attention back to Wei Wuxian.

“You invented a new cultivation style. I am very proud of you,” he says and Jiang Cheng can’t help the snort he lets out at that.

“Do you have something to say to that, Jiang Cheng?” Jiang Fengmian demands to know and Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue.

“His new cultivation style killed over three thousand people before it eventually claimed his own life. I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of,” Jiang Cheng says, with an apologetic look to Wei Wuxian, who nods along.

“Yeah, it cost too much. It’s not actually something good, you know,” Wei Wuxian agrees but Jiang Fengmian shakes his head.

“But you did it because you gave your core to Jiang Cheng and didn’t have another choice, right? I’d say that’s a sign of true strength.”

“Wow,” Jin Ling mutters behind Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng is inclined to agree with him.

“And you lost your core in a reckless move, did you not?” Jiang Fengmian asks Jiang Cheng next and by now everyone in the room seems uncomfortable, even Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng has to give it to his father, he has quite the talent.

“Clearly,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says, but he does feel vindicated when he realizes that his father is just as bad as he was in his memory.

“What did you do while A-Ying learned to master his new life and got a family on top of that?” Jiang Fengmian asks and by now everyone in the room is holding their breath.

“You mean what did I do while Wei Wuxian was dead?” Jiang Cheng corrects him and then goes on without actually letting Jiang Fengmian speak. “I was building Lotus Pier back up, that was completely destroyed in the attack,” Jiang Cheng says, and he says it with pride, too, because he managed to do what people thought was impossible. “I raised my nephew and brought my Sect to greatness again.”

“By taking in everyone you could find,” Jiang Fengmian spits out. “Being a Jiang disciple used to mean something, once upon a time. And now look at who you are taking in. I hear your right hand used to be a servant.”

“As your right hand used to be, if I remember correctly,” Jiang Cheng sharply says and Jiang Fengmian’s eyes apologetically dart to Wei Wuxian, who is clenching his hands on his thighs.

“Listen, father, I don’t know what you remember, but when you and mother died, so did the majority of our people. Thousands of disciples were killed that day. They didn’t even spare the kids, did you know that? There wasn’t all that much left, after the Wens were done.”

“Still, you should have kept some priorities.”

“My priority was to rebuild my home,” Jiang Cheng shoots back but he knows that it’s futile.

It doesn’t matter what he says to his father, it won’t make a difference, because he is not Wei Wuxian.

“And yet you couldn’t even protect your family,” Jiang Fengmian bites out. “Yanli died, and for what?”

“For protecting Wei Wuxian, so really, shouldn’t you be proud of her?” Jiang Cheng says and Wei Wuxian makes a wounded sound next to him.

“It was my fault,” Wei Wuxian lowly admits. “I lost control and everyone wanted to kill me, and shijie only died because she tried to protect me.”

“Like family should,” Jiang Fengmian says and Jiang Cheng had enough of this.

“I think we’re done here,” Jiang Cheng says and it’s clear that Jiang Fengmian wants to say more to him, but it’s surprisingly enough not his voice that rings out.

“Sit back down,” Lan Qiren orders him and Jiang Cheng is surprised enough to simply do it.

“Wei Wuxian, do you have something to say?” Lan Qiren asks Wei Wuxian, voice softer than Jiang Cheng remembers ever hearing it, and Wei Wuxian nods so vigorously that his hair flies.

“You are a shitty father,” Wei Wuxian says then and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, because that he has to hear.

“Wei Ying!” Jiang Fengmian admonishes him but Wei Wuxian clearly doesn’t care.

“No, you are! Jiang Cheng survived a war! You died in the first wave of attacks and he survived all of them and he led a destroyed Sect to boot. He was thrust into the position as Sect Leader so young, but he did it, and he did it more than well. And he didn’t survive just one war, he survived my armies of undead as well.”

“You would have never hurt him,” Jiang Fengmian defends Wei Wuxian, even now, and Jiang Cheng huffs out a bitter breath.

“I would have,” Wei Wuxian argues and makes a grimace at Jiang Cheng, clearly apologizing for that. “I lost control, much earlier than people think, and there was nothing I wouldn’t have done. And I died for my sins.”

“But you did the impossible and came back,” Jiang Fengmian says and Wei Wuxian glares at him.

“I am back because poor Mo Xuanyu was harassed so much that he thought suicide would be better than living on. I was summoned back as a vicious spirit. There is nothing admirable about that,” Wei Wuxian vehemently says but Jiang Fengmian doesn’t seem like he is very much interested in how Wei Wuxian is not the amazing guy he still seems to believe he is.

“Still,” Jiang Fengmian says and looks back at Jiang Cheng. “You don’t seem any closer to understanding the Sect motto than you were when I was still alive,” he says, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes flash red.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually want him to attack his father, even though it would be quite the sight to behold, but before he can do anything to stop Wei Wuxian, Lan Qiren speaks up.

“You egotistical, inflexible piece of shit,” Lan Qiren says, and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to realize that those words really came out of Lan Qiren’s mouth.

But when everyone is staring at him, their mouths mostly open because no one heard Lan Qiren talk like that before, Jiang Cheng comes to the conclusion that it must have been really him.

“Qiren,” Jiang Fengmian starts, but Lan Qiren seems absolutely ready to tear Jiang Fengmian a new one.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Lan Qiren says. “You are a disgrace to your Sect. You never even attempted the impossible, because you were too mellow to ever take a challenge at all. And you can’t even recognize great men, because your son is sitting there after he achieved the impossible time and time again and you have nothing but contempt for him.”

“You shouldn’t speak on family matters,” Jiang Fengmian tries but clearly Lan Qiren is not done.

“I have more right to speak on family matters, than you do,” Lan Qiren says. “Especially when it comes to your son, who you so clearly think the worst of. You hold your son in so little regard that you really believe him to be so stupid as to lose his core in a reckless move? Seriously, out of the two, you’d think Wei Wuxian would be the one to do that, and yet you can’t even be bothered to question it.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks and Jiang Cheng desperately wonders why he never learned the silencing spell the Lans love so much.

It would come in really handy right now.

“Wait, what?” Wei Wuxian says again and looks back and forth between Lan Qiren and Jiang Cheng. “Say that again.”

“I think that’s enough,” Jiang Cheng says, but now Jin Ling chimes in for the first time.

“No, I think Teacher Qiren should speak,” he says, clearly remembering that moment after the whole temple mess. “I think this needs to be said.”

“And I think I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hisses, but Jin Ling only smiles at him.

“Jiang Wanyin!” Jiang Fengmian yells. “How dare you speak like that to your sister’s son.”

Jiang Cheng has a few choice words for that, but before he can articulate them, Jin Ling gives him his best glare.

“He’s my jiu-jiu and he can speak to me however he wants,” Jin Ling tells him with more bite than Jiang Cheng expected and it’s almost enough to derail the previous conversation.

But only almost, because Wei Wuxian is worse than a dog with a bone.

“Wait, let’s go back, what was that about Jiang Cheng losing his core?”

“It was nothing,” Jiang Cheng says, mostly because he doesn’t want to do this in front of his father.

If the truth comes out—and it seems more than unlikely that he can keep it a secret for much longer—then he doesn’t want to hear what his father has to say to that.

It will probably be the only time he will praise Jiang Cheng, because he did it to protect Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.

“I think it’s time for you to go back now,” Jiang Cheng says with a meaningful look to Lan Qiren, who thankfully seems to understand enough to undo the summoning circle without a second thought and Jiang Fengmian vanishes before he can say another word.

“If you think that gets you out of telling the truth, you’re mistaken,” Wei Wuxian says to Jiang Cheng, who only shrugs, because he knows when he’s being beat.

“Fine, whatever,” he says and motions for Lan Qiren to speak.

“You’re not so stupid to try and get your parent’s bodies back, no matter how much you’re grieving. So there must have been another reason you got captured,” Lan Qiren says, and Jiang Cheng didn’t know he thought so highly of him.

“Maybe I am just that stupid,” Jiang Cheng tries, but Lan Qiren sends him such a sharp glare that Jiang Cheng flinches.

“Tell the truth, Jiang Cheng. What did you do?” Wei Wuxian whispers, though Jiang Cheng can already see understanding dawn on him.

“You were buying medicine for A-jie,” Jiang Cheng says after a long moment, and he looks down at his hands, because it feels safer than looking at Wei Wuxian. “Wen soldiers were coming up behind you, and they wouldn’t have passed by.”

“And then they got distracted,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, “by you. Why would you do that?” he wants to know and at that Jiang Cheng lifts his gaze.

“I just lost my entire family, my home. Do you really think I could have survived losing someone else?” he wants to know and it stuns Wei Wuxian into silence.

“You distracted them to safe my life,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue.

“They would have killed you on the spot or tortured you. Wen Chao hated you enough for both, so I had to do something.”

“And then you got tortured,” Wei Wuxian cries, and Jiang Cheng is acutely aware of all eyes on him.

“Not in front of the kids,” Jiang Cheng hisses out, but before he’s even done, Wei Wuxian has thrown himself at Jiang Cheng.

“I love you, too,” he sobs out and Jiang Cheng’s eyes are burning enough that it’s safer to just hide his face in Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” he awkwardly says around the lump in his throat. “I love you, too.”

There’s a long moment of silence, before Lan Qiren clears his throat.

“Now that this unpleasant situation is over, everyone is free to leave.”

Wei Wuxian only reluctantly parts from Jiang Cheng, but when Jiang Cheng smiles slightly at him, he seems to understand that there will be time later.

“Lan Qiren, I didn’t know you held my shidi in such high regard,” Wei Wuxian says, clearly not done with the unpleasant situation and Jiang Cheng wants to strangle him.

“Sect Leader Jiang is one of the bravest, most capable cultivators and Sect Leaders I ever had the honour to teach and I will not stand for any slander against him,” Lan Qiren says, very deliberately not looking at Jiang Cheng, who is glad about that.

Because his eyes are burning like crazy again and he doesn’t actually want Lan Qiren to see him cry.

“He took his Sect and his Sect’s motto to heights that were never before reached and he should be held in the highest regard by everyone,” Lan Qiren mercilessly goes on, and Jiang Cheng only doesn’t burst into tears, because Jin Ling presses into his side.

“He’s right,” Jin Ling says and all the juniors agree.

“Absolutely,” Wei Wuxian predictably says, but when even Lan Wangji makes an affirmative noise, it all becomes too much for Jiang Cheng.

“Alright, stop that, enough,” he snaps out, his voice only barely shaking and everyone laughs at him.

Even Lan Qiren’s face softens.

“It’s only the truth,” Lan Qiren says and Jiang Cheng gives in to the fact that his dignity is a lost cause today.

He does burst into tears, but it’s not at all bad, because Wei Wuxian is the first one to hug him and he’s crying, too.

Jiang Cheng thinks it’s only fair that they both lose face like this in front of the kids and their teacher.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #jclovemonth2020 #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang fengmian #junior quartet #lan qiren #hurt/comfort #post canon #support #lqr HAS HAD IT #and he's not too shy to say it #as he should

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gandrewheadcannons · 3 years ago

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I wanted to share some writing I had done earlier this summer with you all! If you like it let me know if I should continue? It’s meant to be a story focusing around the beginning of their time in Washington and into the podcast. I’ve left it at a really weird stop but that’s all I had so far.

Title: Undetermined

Pairing: Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki

Tags: Mention of prescription medicine, mention of Jeffree/Shane/Ryland, unfinished

Evening is dimly creeping through the half-opened windowpane casting a glow across the built-in table connected to the cramped inner wall of Andrew's microscopic kitchenette. His studio apartment in LA sat cramped in-between Hollywood and Calabasas, a mediocre waypoint for his work for the last few years. He clicks the viewfinder and focuses on the bright oranges and yellows that dance teasingly across the glittering tabletop; catching flicks of sliver and reflecting them back to the lens. A mug of dark roast with just an edge of too much cream is left forgotten in the corner of the frame. It feels cinematic and lonely all at once. The cafe style booth he sits in causes his back to ache, the rest of the kitchen a sterile and unforgiving white, but he misses capturing the day to day beauty the world had to offer. He imagines the reel being played back with a layered sound of twinkling windchimes, quiet laughter and a piano reverb with cuts of the morning sunrise on a hike and steam off the top of a ceramic mug. A familiar face with flecks of blonde in the beard, strong jawed and a roguish smile weaving in and out of the frame, turning back to laugh at something the cameraman said.

“-with a mandate like this.” Garrett is brushing his teeth through Facetime. Andrew catches the corner of his bamboo toothbrush flashing in and out of the lens. He must have laid his Iphone flat on the countertop because when Andrew really looks he can see the bottom of the mirror and a bunch of bright light.

“I know. It sucks. Couldn’t get honey the other day, man. Fucking honey. It’s not like the bees are going anywhere.” He laughs but it doesn’t feel funny. The minimal supply he had was dwindling thin. He was beginning to ration his meals and he wasn’t sure how much toilet paper was left under the bathroom sink. It was all very apocalyptic without any of the zombies or scientists swooping in with immediate remedies.

“Ah dude.” Garrett spits and there’s a tapping sound like he’s hitting his toothbrush on the edge of the porcelain sink before he fully pops into frame. He looks relaxed, sandy hair flopped to one side and beard properly scruffy though they’d only been locked down about a week and a half now. “I know. I can’t handle it anymore. I miss people.” Andrew hums at that. He doesn’t really. He misses the occasional gathering, sure, but he hadn’t quite placed his anxiety surrounding the idea of seeing others since they’d released the Jeffree series. "What was it that bothered you most about taking part in this?" His therapist had asked him. "I missed the fun," he’d answered. "What was the fun?" She’d pressed deeper. "Garrett," Andrew had been quick to reply. "And like. Everyone else too." He'd added when she hadn't said anything. "I miss it not feeling work." She had let him talk about that instead.

"Some people." He tacks on to Garrett who hums easily. He doesn’t think he misses many of the people he’d spent most of 2019 with, his life a mixed cocktail of Ambien, Adderall and Lexapro without any feelings of relaxation manifesting. His psychiatrist had discouraged upping his doses anymore and by early January she began urging him to begin seeking new opportunities to “work on his environment”. He hadn’t quite figured out the avenue to take to do just that.

"Well, some people." Garrett agrees and he's already back out on his couch. "I don't know how many more times I can watch Winter Soldier before I freak out." Garrett sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Same as you and every other person." He turns his camera off. He needs the break from the screen.

"I miss you." Garrett is easy like that. He isn't ashamed to tell people how he feels in every moment. It was something to be admired and yet Andrew just felt envy at it. When Garrett had begun to slip away from him, melting like honeydew sweet and sour into a depth of a place where Andrew couldn't quite find him, he'd only managed to grab him back out by Garrett's honesty. Doesn't know if they'd be having this conversation if Garrett hadn't used that honesty like an anchor and letting Andrew catch him last minute with it.

"I can come over." Andrew offers. He hates being confined in these walls anyways. It was hollow and dark. The email from Shane still sat open on his Mac across the room on his bed. Thinking of extending the break, can't really decide. Want to get quarantined together? I have a few video ideas we could maybe mess around with or just film some day to day footage until creativity strikes us it reads. His skin itches for the company but the image of their guest room makes him uneasy. Doesn't know if he could withstand being there with very little to fill his hands with, editing complete and no real ideas on the table for the time being.

"I can come to you." Garrett offers like he was inconveniencing Andrew who had offered anyways.

"If you touch your car right now I am going to freak out Garrett Watts." Andrew admonishes. "The second they open up the garages and mechanics again I'm making you take that thing there, burn it and we get a new one." He's opening a duffle now and throwing in his travel toiletries and a few pairs of underwear.

"Oh come on Andrew it's not so bad." Garrett laughs as if Andrew wasn't still reeling from the aftermath phone call of Garrett nearly wrecking on the 101 barreling top speeds until he reached a secluded patch of grass to slow his Pirus down onto. By the time Andrew heard the story Garrett was okay; Michael had gone to pick him up and Garrett was sending pictures of little Star Wars figurines that Michael kept mounted on his dashboard. His heart didn’t calm until he had managed to get his hands on Garrett in person though, sneaking out for an afternoon to grab some coffee with Garrett before heading back to Shane’s to finish editing. His shins still feel heavy with the weight of Garrett’s calf as he’d pressed their knees together until the table while they’d talked – the weight reminding him of how alive and okay Garrett really was.

"Oh yeah a car that dies out randomly is really great." Andrew throws in a box of protein bars and a Gatorade into his bag. He hesitates before grabbing a stitched bear made from gray yarn, green buttons for eyes luring him in. "I'll be over soon." He doesn't know how well the conversation will hold up over Facetime as he's moving.

"Okay cool Andrew." Garrett's eyes are soft. "See you soon. My dad is actually calling."

"Tell him I said hi. See you soon." He so easily could tack on endearment, babe at the tip of his tongue burning hot. Garrett's ending the call before Andrew even has the chance.

The half opened can of frosting is across from, the only lights on are the ones twinkling from some intricate set up Garrett had on a shelf. Garrett’s on the third loop of the home screen on Prime, humming thoughtfully whenever he pauses on a summary to read but then continuing to scroll before picking one. He’s slumped down low, long legs kicked out on the coffee table while Andrew is curled up in a ball against his side. Once, Caleb had pointed out that if people didn’t know them they’d get the impression that they were dating. Garrett and Andrew had awkwardly laughed at that comment, tinged with humiliation at how their relationship was being interpreted. They tried to be better then, not letting themselves fall so in sync when other people were around.

Andrew loved it like this though, when it was just him and Garrett, so he could press his cheek into Garrett’s bicep and not have to question why it felt so right. In his left hand his phone illuminated with another message from Shane. Opening it he read a message about how much they all missed him and wanted him there during this time. Apparently Ryland was looking for someone to help film a video he had planned. He quickly shut the screen off and pulled back from Garrett some, his stomach in a sudden tangle of knots.

“Good?” Garrett asked him looking down. His crew neck was for Spokane and looked a little like the Taco Bell logo from when they were younger. He’d paired it with a pair of sweat shorts for the night as they were both supposed to be going to bed soon. Andrew picked at his own Adidas track pants, imagining a loose thread to busy his hands.

“You ever just. Feel like you gotta get out?” He tilts his head to the side and watches Garrett pause what he’s doing with his Playstation controller and set it carefully on his coffee table.

“In what way?” He asks thoughtfully, turning so his chest was open to Andrew. Their knees bumped and Andrew felt like a little boy when he wished he could crawl and hide in the empty space of Garrett’s lap.

“Like okay. Say you just really loved what you used to do. You basically achieved your dream job. You have all these amazing people, you like your boss, things are going really great and you’re making a lot of money.”

“You buy yourself a really good vacuum.” Garrett plays along teasingly causing them both to laugh.

“You get yourself those stackable containers for your meal prepped lunches.” Andrew plays back. “But then…” He runs his tongue inside his teeth then outside methodically. He searches his brain to try to figure out what to say to Garrett to

“Then?” He drums his fingers on Andrew’s knees to get him back to the present.

#gandrew #gw #as #my writing

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

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Celebrity Swingers Club

Request: @bbarton -hi!! could i request adam driver x reader <3 they are dating and one night they go out or something and someone starts hitting on the reader aggressively and he gets very protective and jealous :)

A/N: Honestly the idea for this stemmed from a random and hilarious conversation I was having with my friend the other day. I wanted to keep this one light and silly, so I hope it makes you smile! 🥰

Warnings: Dash of SMUT, language.

Adam was missing you today, even though he’d seen you mere hours ago, wrapped in his arms in bed at the hotel. And you were on set today as well, even. But this happened towards the end of filming, for a lot of actors. The inevitable mixture of melancholy, pride, restlessness and exhaustion. It was exacerbated by being on location, though he had to admit of all the locations he’d been to for a film, he had little to complain about here in Hawaii.

But nearing the end of filming meant that time became more constrained, and you and he saw less of one another. He supposed it was part of the honeymoon phase, after all, you’d only been married about 5 months before production started on this latest project.

Today, he just wanted to see you, even if just for a short while.

So when they called lunch, he was quick to depart the set and make a beeline for the cafe, where he had two orders of lunch preordered for pickup. He thanked the staff, having a brief conversation with the cafe crew about how much he had to bribe them for the recipe to his favourite meal (seriously, it was one of the best dishes he’d ever encountered, but they wouldn’t give it up!). With a laugh and a shrug of defeat, he said his goodbyes and started toward the makeup trailers.

He figured you’d be working with your assistant to tidy up from the morning, as many fake injuries were needed for the scenes they were filming. You complained that these left your workstations a disaster. But he knew you loved creating the wounds, a macabre alternative to the glamour or ‘regular’ looks you specialized in. It had been alarming the first time he’d walked in on you in the bedroom you shared at home to find you looking at horrifically graphic photos and making notes.

As he approached your trailer, your assistant, Bailey, was making her way hurriedly down the steps. Adam greeted her with a wide grin. “Hey Bailey, sneaking away?”

“Sneaking away is accurate, Carter is in there,” She replied, her lips set in a thin line, “Seriously, I know he means well, but he really is a bit much.”

Adam nodded in understanding, as he too found the young actor a little...obnoxious. And while Adam had no illusions to his idiosyncrasies and perpetual ‘asshole’ persona; he still made a point of not falling into conversation with Carter. It was tiring, as the kid would speak non-stop, jumping from topic to topic so quickly it gave his listeners whiplash, and when he’d finish, he’d merely take a breath and launch into another speech unless he was cut off.

But he was a good enough kid and a great actor. Someone that, professionally, Adam was happy to work with. Just like Bailey, however, he had his limits when it came to patience in dealing with Carter offset. And Adam knew his wife all too well, he knew you were in the trailer, abandoned by Bailey, being an absolute gem to the kid. Letting him talk your ear off while you no doubt worked to get your station fully tidied before being called to set after lunch for touch-ups.

“Well, I’d better go rescue her, I’ll see you later.” He sighed, and Bailey gave him a sympathetic, knowing smiling before running off.

You kept your trailer especially cool, which Adam had always appreciated. You said it was for your art, but he also knew you did it for him, as he always ran a lot warmer than most. Stepping inside, he first turned left toward the dining area and set the food boxes down on the table. When he glanced around and didn’t see you in the main room, he made his way to the door that led into the meeting room, which had a large sink that you used for cleaning off your palettes and brushes. The door was halfway cracked and as Adam stepped up, he heard Carter’s voice.

“Honestly, totally no big deal, (y/n). Married, single, divorced-whatever,” Adam was right at the door now, looking in he saw your back, shoulders rigid in a way that he knew meant you were uncomfortable, and pointedly washing off a palette with determined vigour. “You’re fit, and I’m an honest person, so I just wanted to put it out there. You could even ask Adam if you-“

Leaning against the door frame, Adam slid the pocket door the rest of the way open, his eyes focused on Carter. “Ask Adam what?” His voice low, he was trying to control his temper-he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Carter had broken off the moment he saw Adam in the doorway, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Oh, hey Adam!” He quickly rearranged his expression to a more pleasant one.

But when you spun around and Adam saw the genuine relief flush across your face, his heart rate increased. He crossed his arms, inwardly happy that he was still wearing only a t-shirt, his muscles flexing slightly.

“Ask me what, Carter.”

The kids’ eyes widened, “I was, well, I mean I was saying to (y/n)-“

Adam cut him off again, “My wife. You were saying to my wife.” Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see you biting back a smile.

Carter stuttered, “Yes! Of course, I was saying-to your wife-that I’d be down for a, you know,” He shrugged, though his tense posture and wide eyes gave away how utterly not calm he was, “Some fun, Hollywood style, uh, fun.”

At this, Adam frowned with confusion, glancing between Carter and you, and you rolled your eyes, “He means sex. You know, like how all celebrities are here for a good time, so we can swap partners and have sex parties and all that fun stuff we do on weekends.”

Adam’s eyes snapped to Carter, who visibly paled. Gulping he watched as Adam stepped away from the door and into the room, his eyes narrowed. “You asked my wife to fuck? Are you kidding me?” Moving nearer to you, Adam pointed at the door, “Get the fuck out of here, stay the fuck away from my wife, and expect a call from my manager.”

Though his voice had been quiet, the message and severity of his words were all too clear to Carter, who uttered a quick apology before running out of the trailer at full speed. When the door slammed closed behind him, you burst out laughing, peals of giggles that brought a smile to Adam’s face despite his anger.

“Oh god, that poor kid actually thought we had like, celebrity swingers clubs,” You broke down in another fit of giggles, one hand clutching your stomach, and Adam couldn’t help but join in.

After a few minutes, he stepped closer to you and pulled you into his arms, where you rested your head on his chest, your arms snaking around his waist. It hadn’t been the first time he’d encountered someone unabashedly hitting on you, though this was the most unique proposition he thinks you'd been offered.

“That was the first time that one could interpret that I was included in the deal,” He considered aloud, causing you to laugh loudly again. “I’m not sure if I should be more, or less, offended.”

“Carter is a gullible fantasist. I’d put money down that someone told him there was a sex club he was missing out on.”

“If that’s the case,” Adam replied, pulling back slightly to look down at you, “Then whoever told him that is going to get a piece of my mind when I find out who they are. I fucking hate when men hit on you.”

Your gaze softened, a small hand reaching up to stroke his jaw in a soothing motion that always seemed to work on him. “I know, babe,” You whispered, your hand sliding from his jaw to grab the back of his neck, pulling him closer. With your mouth a breath away from his, you added, “I missed you today.” And then your lips pressed to his.

Without hesitation, Adam deepened the kiss, his blood rushing as your mouth opened for him and then he was licking into you, tasting you. A small moan escaped you as you pressed yourself against him, returning his fervour. One of the things he adored about you was the energy that you saved just for him. Every kiss, every touch, they were always fire, always intense and needy. You kissed him like it was the first time, every time, no matter how tired you might be, how hard you might have worked that day.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, each of you panting. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“Love you too, big.” You murmured, your lips wrapping seductively around the nickname you had for him. He smiled, reaching his hands up to cup your face, thumbs stroking the soft skin.

“I brought lunch, by the way.”

You pulled back further, leaning around him to look toward the dining table. Eyes lighting up upon seeing the take out containers that held your favourite meal, you glanced between Adam and the food a few times.

“Seeing you get all jealous worked me up,” Your words were thoughtful, brows furrowed in mock consideration, “I think we have time for a quickie before we ea-AH!”

You shrieked a giggle as Adam lifted you up, pressing his lips to yours before seating you on the table. He reached toward the door and quickly shut it, turning the lock, before looking back down at you.

With a dark look in his eyes, he stepped between your legs, hands gripping your shoulders gently, “Might need to leave a mark or two, remind everyone who you belong to.” And then his lips were on your collarbone, biting possessively before his tongue would lave out to soothe the mark. Your hands found his hair, fingers carding through the raven locks as you moaned in delight.

“All yours, big.” You sighed, and Adam smiled against the skin of your chest, his hands dropping to your hips so that he could ease your leggings off and bring your bodies together.

The food would go cold, but the trailer had a microwave. And really, neither of you were all that hungry at the moment, anyway.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

#reader insert #fanfic #adam driver x reader #adam driver #adam driver x you #angst #adam driver fanfiction #just for fun #requested #love

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littlemisslipbalm · 5 years ago

Text

“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

---

Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

@berrynarrybanana

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #har #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #I DID IT #I sat down and wrote it #and it took forever #and I need to write a second part but I made something coherent #one direction fanfiction #not my gifs #my writing #I love you h #you get me #my writings

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cotccotc · 4 years ago

Text

SKZ REACT to...

✰ you coming out PART 2 !!

part of my eight as fate event !! ( requested by anon ♡ )

genre/s: ot8 reaction headcanon, gn reader, platonic, fluff & humor

wc: ~1.3k

warning/s: descriptions of coming out as non-binary, brief mentions of gender dysphoria, my dumb commentary once again (hehe), these are just my opinions and ideas !!

a/n: i reference the first version of this reaction a few times and i recommend reading it first !! i got some really sweet responses to the original so i hope y’all like this one too :) OH ALSO i should mention that i decided to make it platonic since i found that easier and more natural to write.

✰ CHAN

i feel like even if he already knows a bunch about gender identity, non-binary and genderqueer people, dysphoria, pronouns, etc. he would definitely enjoy you giving him a full rundown on it !! and specifically what your interpretation is and how you identify

BEST LISTENER EVER !!!

do you remember that vlive where felix is talking and chan’s just sitting back and looking at felix with immense amounts of love in his eyes? yeah…

he’d be so. incredibly. proud. of you.

idk why the chan portions of these reactions have both been super sappy but anyways-

he’d be very dedicated to using your preferred pronouns and finding new ways to compliment you !!!

his google search history would most definitely include “genderless adjectives” and “enby dad jokes” and he’d keep a running list on his phone

chan: “what do you say when your non-binary friend is sad?”

you: [dead silence]

chan: “their, their....” [giggles]

KSDFJ

✰ MINHO

my first thought is that he’d be the type to ask for your new pronouns and immediately use them in a sentence.

for instance, say your new pronouns were xe/xem. he’d immediately say, “well, i’m very proud of my y/n, and i love xem very much.”

so then i’d start crying in the background.. blah blah blah omniscient narrator struggles :’)

i can’t see him being anything but casual and accepting !!

if you want to talk about things, he’ll most definitely let you, but if you don’t want to he won’t push.

but regardless, he just wants you to know he supports you in whatever way he can.

would also politely correct people if they misgender you in public !!! he wants you to feel safe !!!!!

i saw him as a wingman in the other reaction but in this context he’d definitely serve as your personal information pamphlet for people who you might not know too well.

random person: “what exactly does that mean?”

you: “it-”

minho: “WELL ACTUALLY-”

✰ CHANGBIN

just like in the first version, he’d get pretty emotional !!

i think he would really sympathize with you even though he can’t fully understand what you had to deal with externally or emotionally.

honestly that would probably make him even MORE emotional.

the fact that he can’t fully relate to those complex feelings would really tug at his heartstrings as he listens to you speak. he really wishes he could understand your struggles more, and maybe even take on the burden for you.

but let’s get less emo, shall we?

ok picture something with me bestie:

first, he casually refers to you using your new pronouns in a group conversation.

next, after the topic changes in the conversation, you look at him while the others continue talking.

this mf WINKS and flashes you the silliest smirk

you let out a little chuckle and you both continue on in the conversation

[end scene]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH anyways-

✰ HYUNJIN

i feel like he might question his own gender identity a little as well sometimes, especially due to what people say online (like calling him “pretty”, the edits some people make, praising him for breaking stereotypes, etc.)

so, he probably understands a bit deeper than some of the other members might.

in that same vein, i think it might make him a little bit emotional to hear your story !!

over the years, i think it’s plain to see that he’s become more comfortable with expressing his more feminine attributes, which has always comforted you as his friend.

he understands the feeling of being uncomfortable with the gender roles one is expected to follow, so he empathizes with you.

in terms of his actual first reaction, i think it would be pretty similar to what i suggested in the other version of this.

(my bias is showing but oH MY GOSH I STILL THINK THIS WOULD BE SO CUTE-)

“woo~” *insert little jazz hands here*

…

[cries] anyways-

you feel really comfortable coming to him with this, and you’re happy when you do !!

✰ JISUNG

maybe it’s because i’ve seen tweets about it, but i feel like this dude knows everything there is to know about modern gender identity topics and neopronouns and stuff

after the initial awkwardness of the conversation (and a big supportive hug ofc) he’d be stoked to talk about it !!

would ask for your pronouns right away !!! he might also do the thing where he uses them in a sentence.

“y/n !!! ze’s so cool !!!!!!!”

i think if he saw someone misgender you (by accident) he wouldn’t correct them for you out of in-the-moment nerves, but he’d be very proud of you if you do it yourself !!

might buy you a snack afterward tbh

but if HE ever misgenders you OHHHHH goodness gracious

HE WOULD FEEL SOOO BAD AH

EVEN IF IT’S LIKE.. THE NEXT DAY

he’d get so very embarrassed and apologetic SDKFJ you’d have to really assure him that it’s not that big of a deal since he’s still adjusting to things, but he’d still feel like he has to make it up to you in some way

would probably buy you snacks again LMAO

✰ FELIX

i think he would be really excited !!

we know felix really loves and is passionate about androgynous/genderless forms of expression, especially in regard to appearance, so he’d probably really enjoy talking about gender and stereotypes with you !!

(if you’re comfy with it, ofc)

honestly, felix would be really encouraging and would help you gain more confidence !!!!!

if you ever feel like trying out a new look, he’d be like “OK BESTIE LET’S GO SHOPPING”

tbh he’d probably try it out with you !! or if you hang out often, he’d probably subconsciously start finding inspiration in your style and adopt it a bit himself

on days where you feel a bit down for whatever reason, especially in regard to dysphoria, his first instinct would be to cheer you up by reminding you how unique and cool you are.

and it’s not just because you’re nonbinary but also because you’re just a super cool person !!!!!!!!!! and i think so too !!!!!!!!!!!! never forget it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so overall, i feel like felix wouldn’t be very hard to come out to once you get over your initial nerves, and the end result would be super fun :D

✰ SEUNGMIN

i think his initial reaction would be pretty similar to chan’s !!

he also seems like the type to be super, super diligent with adjusting to whatever pronouns you feel comfortable using or words you’re okay with him using to refer to you.

(maybe it’s because we know he was a good student and he’s diligent with practicing his english. training his brain to correct itself would be like studying for him lol)

for example, instead of calling you “pretty” or “handsome,” he might even try simply pointing out a part of your appearance that he thinks looks especially great !! something like your eyes, your hair, your outfit, etc.

your hair looks great today, btw. anyways-

aside from that, i think he would just try to be as courteous as possible without making a big deal out of things.

and if he ever slips up with your pronouns, descriptors, etc, he’d be super quick to apologize and correct himself before keeping the conversation going like normal !!

there’s just generally a lot of mutual respect all around :)

✰ JEONGIN

this is somewhat similar to my other version of this reaction, but i think he’d just be really intrigued and a little shocked

IDK WHY I KEEP THINKING HIS ABILITY TO GAUGE THESE THINGS IS SO BAD DKFJ every time i think about someone coming out to him i just can’t help but picture him being like “reaLLY??? since WHEN”

still, something deep within my soul is telling me that jeongin would truly think you’re the coolest person on the planet.

being as he can’t personally relate to this, jeongin would be pretty psyched to hear about your journey to finding out !! kinda the opposite reaction to changbin lol

honestly he’d be a super good listener !!!!

he’d hear you out for however long you explain things to him, and if you ever get a bit emotional, he might smile at you or reach out to hold your hand :’) or both :’’’’’)

then, when you tell him your preferred pronouns he’s like “oH okay !! coOL !!!” lmao

so, he understands the concept and is super happy for you but he just didn’t really expect it !!

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abreathofthewild · 4 years ago

Text

I Need A Hero, Chapter 1/?

Summary: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

Word Count: 11559 (I have no idea either, trust me)

Warnings: non-main character death, mentions of alcohol, some thematic elements, eventual smut.

A/N: I have so many people I could tag on this post, so many. For now, I'll just say thank you to @spacelabrathor for allowing me to use this idea and to @itssimplydior for going above and beyond in helping me grammar check and just being a great hype person. Thank you thank you thank you! And thank you to everyone who has waited so long for this. I have an amazing circle of friends on here. I hope this first chapter was worth the wait!

Edit: The banner is by the amazing @frankiemorales who designed this moodboard because she loves the story so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Links: Thor Odinson Masterlist and AO3 Version

Skyscrapers cut through the blue sky like ancient monoliths; they weren’t ancient at all but the way the sun glinted off the glass and steel of their structures made them look like modern interpretations of old gods. Car horns and shouts and ongoing conversations hummed through the air, the constant buzz of life an undercurrent that was all at once hard to ignore and easy to be lost in. There in the middle of it, beneath the heartbeat of the city, you sat in an office chair trying to clear your head around a different type of ringing in your ears.

Your grandfather had passed away. Your estranged grandfather. And yet here you were, listening to his attorney tell you that he had willed you his ranch. The ranch you had spent almost six summers at as a child. The ranch where you had learned to ride a horse. The ranch where you had learned how to skip rocks and climb trees. The ranch where you had decided that one day you’d have a big ranch of your own, “just like Grandpa”.

“Miss? Miss, are you still there?” A breath rattled from your lungs as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry, I can imagine this is difficult but were you able to hear me on the line? Hank has passed away and he’s left you his ranch. We’ll need you to come sign some paperwork. There are some stipulations that I’d rather discuss in person. Then you’re free to get the details settled to sell it if that’s what you want.” Another pause.

“Um, yes, I’m sorry. I heard you. Can you email the initial documents?” The barely-managed response felt odd on your tongue, stiff.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure we can manage that. I’ll have to apologize, things move a little slower around here so sometimes it slips my mind that electronic signatures are an option now. Like I said though, the final details will need to be worked out here, in Dove’s Reach.” After that, you tuned out; the man’s voice on the line seemed to drone on. Your brain honed in on “it’s not really in a state to sell” and “I’ll put you in touch with a licensed appraiser just to make sure”. Then the call ended and you realized somewhere in there you must have hung up the phone but you honestly couldn’t remember.

A ranch. A whole ranch. 500 acres of rolling hills in Montana. Your breath caught and you quickly brushed away the tears that had welled in your eyes, pursing your lips and glancing at the paperwork spread in front of you. There was so much work to do here with the Harrison case. Your eyes roved from the physical documents to the spreadsheets on your computer screen and back again. It would be foolish to take time off now when you were so close to finishing it up. You could see your father’s frown as if he was standing in front of you.

And yet… Your grandfather hadn’t been a part of your life for so long. In the beginning, when your parents had told you abruptly that Grandpa had done something bad, been mean to them, you took it hard. Seven years old is a horrible time to lose a grandfather who taught you how to milk a cow and showed you the wonder in the small things. But as you got older and your parents became more embroiled in work, more distant, you put it to the back of your mind. You were still young enough that you had no choice but to take their word for it. The thoughts tripped around your head like a broken record; you felt a little queasy. You wiped brusquely once more at a stray tear and, taking a deep breath, turned to your monitor. You minimized one tab and opened another, preparing to write an email. It was a little more difficult than you had anticipated though and ten minutes later when your assistant walked in reminding you of your 2 o’ clock, you startled from a blank daydream and an even blanker screen. Your surroundings rushed back in around you on a pinpoint vortex and all at once, you knew you had to go. Regardless of parts of the will needing to be handled in person, something split in your heart. Right now, your place was at the ranch.

“Reschedule that appointment please. Let Clark know we’ll be switching it over to a Zoom call. Actually, cancel the rest of my appointments for the next two weeks. I’ll let you know if I need you to move anything around after that.” She widened her eyes but nodded all the same, turning and exiting your corner office with purpose. You began typing out the email to your father letting him know that you’d be taking advantage of all those vacation hours you had stored away for a rainy day. You would take the Harrison case with you and could easily finish it remotely. It would be on his desk by the deadline. Your rainy day was today but despite the circumstance, you were beginning to catch the feeling that there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The ranch house flashed across your mind’s eye and you blew out a breath from your lungs you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

You clicked send and stood, throwing on your coat and gathering the necessary paperwork from your desk. You let your assistant know you were leaving and walked out the door, not bothering to pay attention to a few pairs of wandering eyes who watched as you entered the elevator and headed down to the ground floor. With each minute of descent through the high-rise building, you felt your heart beat faster. It felt like there was a balloon in your chest waiting to burst. Your heels clicked on the marble floor and as you pushed through the doors into the spring air of New York City, you felt just a little more alive than you had moments before.

The redeye flight and extra two-hour drive put you in Dove’s Reach before the sun had completely risen. Last week if someone had told you that you would be standing here right now looking at your grandfather’s ranch house with the notion that you could fix it up, you would have laughed in their face. But as the sun rose in the east, it felt as if anything was possible. To the north was a range of mountains that could have looked menacing, but from your vantage only served to leave you in awe. The immediate land was just miles and miles of green fields that met with forest. The trees were behemoths; the sun bathed everything in a rich golden light adding unbelievable depth to the scene before you. The air smelled clean and fresh and alive.

You resisted the urge to pinch yourself because if this was a dream you never wanted to wake up. There was your grandfather’s house right in the middle of all of it. It still held the country charm that you remembered but there was so much that was… off. From what you could see with the naked eye, the wooden fence was sagging and falling over in a lot of places. The barn was missing slats of wood and one door hung precariously on its hinges. The house was a relic, the paint dry and peeling. You knew your grandfather as a strong, stout man who even in his older age was capable of running a whole ranch. The state of things now left a hollow feeling in your stomach and left so many questions unanswered.

A suitcase, carry-on, and laptop bag was all you had with you as you took the key from under the mat and opened the front door. It groaned loudly as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while but it made you smile to know that your grandfather had left the key in the same place after all these years. You walked to your left into the kitchen and set your keys on the counter. The familiarity of it all suddenly made you pause with a sudden sense of Deja Vu. The magnets on the fridge, the little table with four wooden chairs, and an old fashioned clock hanging on the wall that had faded from a once dark blue. The checkered yellow and white curtains were rolled up above the farm-style sink and an old mason jar with some dried flowers sat in the sill.

You found yourself choking up as you realized your grandfather’s coffee mug, the big one with some western painting of a bucking bronco, sat ready next to the coffee pot. You walked over to it and cradled it in your hands as the feeling washed through your bones that it was your mug now. There was so much you remembered about him and yet so much you never got to know, never would know. It nagged at you as the realization began to set in that there was so much to get done to sell this place. And after it was gone, there would be nothing of your grandfather left. A shaky sigh escaped from your lips.

Sleep. Right now you just needed to sleep. You made your way upstairs, the wood groaning in protest as you went, and headed to the right where one of the two guest rooms were located. Again, it was like a museum, in a state of preservation. With a wrenching in your stomach, you wondered if he’d ever had visitors after you. The bed sat against the opposite wall under the window and the sunlight filtering in passed the tree outside left dappled patterns on the patchwork quilt. You brushed your fingertips across it and marveled at how soft it still felt.

The room smelled faintly of dust so you cracked the window. You were rewarded by the cool breeze laced with the scent of pine wafting gently into the room. It was the beginning of spring but mornings were still chilled with the end of winter. You were pretty sure that in the shade of various trees on your way in there were small drifts of unmelted snow and the dried grass in the fields outside had sparkled with frost. You flopped down on the bed, covering yourself with the knitted throw that was tossed across the bottom.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you had a distinct feeling that you had always lived here. The thought crossed your mind as you edged into sleep that maybe you should stay.

It was well past noon when you startled awake. This time, it felt like there was a weight on your chest. You cracked your eyes and let out a small ah when you were greeted by a plump silver and white cat with green eyes sitting on your stomach. It chirruped when it realized you were awake. The cat hadn’t been in the house when you arrived (that you had seen). Maybe it climbed the tree and hopped in the window. Either way, it had been a long time since you’d last had a pet (your long hours didn’t allow for it back in New York) and your heart did a light skip as you scratched behind its ears. Its purr sounded like a motorboat.

The breeze coming through the window was a little warmer now and after a while of trying to stay lost to the world outside, you knew if you didn’t get up right then, you wouldn’t feel motivated to do so for the rest of the day. And there was a lot to do. With an exaggerated grunt, you deposited the cat on the other side of the bed. It sat there licking a paw and periodically giving you an irked look. You let out a small snort and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and began writing down your goals for the day.

The main one was a basic grocery list (you were pretty sure there was nothing in the fridge or cupboards), and now getting some cat food. If you remembered correctly, the actual town was about another half hour from the ranch in the opposite direction you’d come. You stood and winced as pins and needles prickled up and down your legs from sitting cross-legged on the bed. You glanced at your computer bag tucked in next to the desk on the floor. The Harrison case would have to wait.

Main Street hadn’t really changed much from what you could remember of your time here. A lot of red brick and dark wood. It was quaint and about as small-town as you could get. Something lurched in your chest when you pulled to a stop in the grocery parking lot. Everything was so foreign to how you lived in the big city but at the same time… it sang of a home you had not experienced before. Part of you thought it was a shame that you had to go back in two weeks. You brushed the thought aside as quickly as you allowed yourself to feel it. There was no use indulging that line of thinking and besides, it was the first day. You were sure you would feel differently at the end of that time after you’d put in the work that would be required.

The grocery store was bigger than you remembered; you were pretty sure it had been expanded. Maybe the town wasn’t as little as it used to be. A cartful of basics and what felt like 500 mental notes later, you brought your groceries to the front. You daydreamed for a moment as the steady beep of the register sounded in the background.

“You’re not from around these parts, are you darlin’?” You came back to yourself, shaking your head. The woman ringing you up was older, with short-cropped white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her name tag read “Rose''. “I thought so. We don’t get many people around here that buy tofu. Is it any good?” She wrinkled her nose in such a way that made you giggle. You shrugged your shoulders.

“There’re a few different ways I make it that taste pretty good. I’m not vegetarian or anything, I just like all sorts of foods.” She brightened at that; you guessed there were also not very many vegetarians in Dove’s Reach either. “I’m actually here to handle my grandpa’s estate. He just passed away…” You trailed off, surprised by the lump that was suddenly in your throat. Her eyes widened just a bit before she reached out to pat your hand.

“Do you mean Hank? Was Hank your granddaddy? Yes, he must be, I can see you have the same eyes now. Well, I’m so very sorry, hon. He was a good man. It seems like only yesterday he was here picking up groceries.” There was a tear in her eye now and it made you wonder how close the two were. “It had actually been quite some time since he was able to make it in here on his own. Months at least.” Months? So he had been sick for a while. Why hadn’t he told you? Rose saw the look flash across your face. “Oh,” she breathed out quietly, “you didn’t know, did you?” She clucked her tongue as you paid. “That Hank, always thinkin’ he didn’t need help. We were all surprised when he finally had Jonesy coming ‘round to do things in town for him. Jonesy was his attorney, you’ll probably be speaking to him soon, I’d reckon. Well, if you need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

You grabbed your bags and put them back in your cart. There would be time to ask Rose questions about your Grandpa later, you hoped. But right now, you needed to focus on getting help with the ranch.

“Well actually, Rose, I’m looking for some help to fix the ranch up. Do you know anyone off the top of your head?”

Rose had told you to go across the street to On The Wings of A Dove, the local hang out after a day’s work had been finished for a lot of folks. It was surprisingly modern with an old feel. Deep red brick, exposed black pipe, and low lighting. The smell as you walked in the doors made your mouth water. Luckily the owner, Gus, was in and was more than happy to help a young lady such as yourself.

“Thor! This lady here needs some help fixin’ up her ranch to sell. You lookin’ for work?” You glanced in the direction the portly man was facing, down the bench, and around a couple of other patrons. A man leaned out and smiled in your way; the flash of white teeth made your heartbeat stutter.

“As a matter of fact, Gus, I just finished up at the Finch’s farm helpin’ them with that young colt.” He stood and walked over to you. If he looked big from a distance, there was no denying it now as he moved into your space. You looked up at his face and the golden hair framing blue eyes was enough to make your brain go foggy. He held out a hand, the chorded muscle across his chest and in his broad shoulders evident even with such a small movement. You took it and something bloomed in your chest when his hand enveloped yours. His skin was rough with calluses. It was warm and a vision flashed across your mind unbidden: those hands grasping at your face, roving down your arms, across your chest, gripping your hips, and moving lower… You shook your head and tried to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

“The name’s Thor. Thor Odinson. How may I be of service, pretty lady?” Normally, someone being so forward would irk you. But somehow hearing Thor say the words “pretty lady” in a slow drawl didn’t bother you in the least. You offered him a smile back, quirking your head to the side. Taking inventory. He couldn’t be much older than you if he was older at all.

“Thor Odinson? That’s an interesting name.” He nodded, ducking his head and running a hand through his hair. It looked ridiculously soft to the touch and you had to stop yourself from snorting in good-natured annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am. My family comes from the Old Country. They wanted a strong name for a strong man. Gus said you’re lookin’ for help though?” He crossed his arms and leaned in, the white t-shirt he was wearing stretching across his chest. You forced your eyes to move back to his face where you were met with a little crook of his lips. You were pretty sure he saw that but there was no embarrassment in the knowledge. “I can help you do just about anything. Pick your poison.”

It was a lot. And you were certain there was more than you even realized with your knowledge of how to run a ranch being zero. You listed off how the house needed a good cleaning but you could take care of that. It probably needed a new coat of paint inside and out. Several of the shudders on both stories needed repairing. The barn looked pretty run down but you hadn’t gotten up close to it yet. One of the doors had definitely been hanging crookedly on its hinges. Then there was the fence… You could probably use more than two people for that. You had no idea of what state the ranch hand cabin was in. You looked up at him and gave him a shrug. His eyebrows were up near his hairline as he leaned back and whistled.

“Boy, we’ve really got our work cut out for us, don’t we? Well, I think we’d better start with those things you mentioned first. Trust me, if there’re other problems we’ll find ‘em real quick. Might cost ya a pretty penny. Are we tryin’ to stay within a certain budget?” He looked you right in the eye and Lord help you, it had been a long time since someone looked you in the eye with any sort of sincerity. You were used to working with less-than-savory types in your corporate world. You cleared your throat and shrugged again.

“Not really. If we fix it up good enough, there won’t be a loss. It’s a pretty place. Just needs some TLC. And the land is worth its 500 acres in gold.” The silence was palpable but not in an uncomfortable way. Thor leaned in and you caught a slip of his scent. Sweat and leather and woodsmoke. You took a deep breath, pulling the smell with it. You realized he was listening. He wasn’t just hearing your words, he was taking them in and mulling them around in his brain. “But wait. Does that mean you’ll do it? We haven’t even talked about wages or anything like that.” He waved a hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes.

“We can talk about that later. What matters is you need help and we like to help people ‘round here. Maybe that’s not somethin’ you’re used to where you’re from? It’s all right though. I’ll introduce ya to small-town hospitality. When are you wanting to get started?” You threw him a sheepish grin before glancing down at the floor as if the pattern there was the most interesting thing in the world. If your parents could see you now, you knew they’d be appalled. Thinking of doing the work yourself, of hiring someone you literally just met and someone who was only suggested to you by a cashier at a grocery store. It was a little ridiculous you admitted but you brushed the thoughts away.

“Tomorrow? You can stay in one of the guest rooms in the house. There’s a ranch hand cabin but I have no idea what it looks like. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been a working ranch in a while so there’s really no telling what state it will be in…” Again, he held his hand up slowly, politely putting a stop to the words pouring from your mouth.

“The cabin is just fine. I don’t need much anyway. Depending on how long I’m there, the only thing I ask is to bring my dog, Tucker, with me. He’s as good a help as any man I’ve met and twice as friendly.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Well, all right then. Sounds like everything is as settled as it gets for now. Can I get the address from ya? I’ll head over around 5 PM, get settled in if that suits your plans for the rest of the day.

“Perfect.” You smiled as he shook your hand again.

It occured to you that this is the first contract you’d ever made without a signature on paper and yet somehow, it felt like the most foolproof one as well.

It didn’t take long for Thor to settle in. He had insisted on taking the ranch hand cabin despite your protesting. When the two of you looked it over, it wasn’t as bad as you would have guessed it to be, even though there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. You searched through some of the cupboards and luckily came up with a spare sheet set. You took the old one to wash, holding your breath against all the dust motes that flew into the air as soon as you took the sheets off.

“Tucker didn’t want to come?” You asked with a teasing tone,one that Thor responded to with a laugh. He took his baseball cap off and roughed his fingers through his hair. He shook his head.

“No, ma’am. We’ll see how things go here but guessing by the fence line I saw on my way in, he’ll definitely be coming to stay here with me. Don’t worry, either way you’ll get to meet him. He’ll be tickled pink.” Again, a duck of his head that made you wonder how someone could have such good manners. You looked down, shuffling your feet. That seemed to be a regular thing for you now as well. Not being able to look someone in the eye? Not a good look on a big time lawyer. But you had an excuse, right? You glanced up through your eyelashes as he turned away and looked around.

He stood tall, straight-backed. You absently wondered if it was from riding horses. He probably looked great on a horse. He was no longer in just the white shirt from earlier but his Carhartt jacket didn’t swallow him, it just somehow emphasized how big he was. Every movement brought that into sharp focus. The floor creaked beneath his boots as he flipped switches on and off, watching with concentration as each lightbulb somehow still worked. They took a few moments to crackle on but crackle on they did. And with each one his smile somehow got bigger. After a little while of inspecting the little space he turned to you again.

“This will do just fine. No worries need be wasted on my behalf. Tomorrow I’m thinking we should head down to Redwood Hardware and see if we can get an order in for some fence posts. They might have some in stock already but the amount we’ll need is probably not gonna be in store. You might also wanna consider hiring other help besides me. I stand by my work ethic but we’ll get the job done a lot faster with more people.” You blew a breath out of your mouth and pursed your lips. He was closer in an instant, placing his hand on your shoulder. He lowered his head to make sure you would meet his gaze. It threatened to take your breath away. “I know it might not seem like it right now, but we’ll have this place up and running, sale-worthy in no time. A place your granddaddy would be proud of.”

You did meet his eyes then, glancing back and forth between them. You nodded. If anyone was going to tell you how a thing was going to go and you would believe them… It was going to be Thor.

The day came when it was time to actually set up the new fence posts instead of just staring at them with a certain bit of dread each day when you went outside. The sky was a blue that seemed to go on forever and the air itself smelled alive but still, you stood, hands on your hips, ticking off all the other things you could be doing. There were loads of things. But Thor stood next to you, a smirk on his face and you knew there was no way you could put off starting this any longer. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“It’ll be alright darlin’! It’s a lot of work, hard work, but you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right there every step of the way to help ya out.” Again, the uncanny wave of reassurance swept over you at his words and so it was you found yourself climbing into the passenger side of his old Ford and marveling at what pristine condition it was in. The last couple of days you’d been driving your rental car; there was an old Jeep in the barn but it needed more repairs than you could focus on at the moment. You’d seen his truck the day he drove up to the house and the days after but you hadn’t seen the interior and you were impressed.

You didn’t know many hyper-specific details about any vehicle but you guessed this one was old and yet… the seats were a rich brown leather, worn in certain places from use but not split. It even had a sheen to it still, as if he wiped it down on a regular basis. There was one little piece of plastic up near the passenger air vent that was slightly cracked but the rest of it still shone as close to new as it would ever get again. A reddish brown darker than the seats but just as fine. Nothing had been replaced or updated it seemed, just kept in the same condition it always had been. But looking around, you knew it had been used. It had worked many long years. You quirked your mouth and glanced at him as he shifted the truck into gear and drove through the gate, driving along the rutted pathway that ran along the length of fencing. The field stretched out for miles and miles beyond you in gentle sloping green hills. There were some wildflowers starting to sprout up but from what you understood, it was nowhere close to peak season yet. The fence closer to the buildings was in better condition; the farther away from there you got, the more obvious it became that the ranch had been non-operational for some time. As it was apt to do regularly now, your mind wandered. You were lost in two vast landscapes, one physical, the other in your memories. It took Thor slowing and then parking at the point where the fence literally ceased to exist to bring you out of yourself.

The two of you hopped out and started grabbing supplies. After figuring out how much you wanted to get done for the day, the two of you started in on the fence posts. Or more like Thor jumped right in and you took a split second to watch him as he began working. Almost immediately he shrugged off his flannel; he was in a simple white tank top and those ridiculously well-fitted Wrangler jeans and boots. Even the gloves on his hands looked slightly tight as if his hands were too big even for the large size. His motions were smooth and concise; he turned away from you, leaving his back on full display. You leaned on your post hole digger for a minute, taking in the way all the parts of his body worked together. From the muscles in his arms, the ones chord across his shoulders and back, all the way down to how his hips swayed with the movement.

An eagle cried out overhead and you moved in about ten feet away from him. You wanted to think that you knew how to do this right away just from watching him. The soil was no problem. It was soft and dark and easy to dig. The smell curled through the air and reminded you of being a kid, when the most you had to worry about was if the dirt was the right consistency for a mud pie. But after a few tries, you realized you must be doing something wrong because your hands kept slipping and Thor had already moved past you to dig and place two more wooden posts. Still, you don’t say anything just yet. You were determined to do this.

As the day waned on, slow as molasses, you could feel him watching you. He didn’t move in to stop you, didn’t tell you you were doing it wrong. He let you struggle. There was a war inside of you at that moment, part of you wanting him to jump in and show you how and the other part being refreshed by him letting you figure it out. That inner monologue went on for a while before he nudged you and handed you a bottle of water. You stopped, relieved. The sun was somehow high overhead now. For every one post you were finishing with difficulty, Thor was getting two done. Frustration flared over your whole body. He cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair.

“I noticed it looked like you were havin’ a bit of a hard time diggin’ the post holes. Would ya like if I gave ya some pointers?” You watched him, the earnestness in his blue eyes, and nodded. A smile lit up his face and you wondered how many people got to see it. It was bright and put the endless Montana sky to shame. “Perfect. Let’s eat lunch now and then I’ll show ya a thing or two.” You munched on the turkey sandwiches you had thrown together, sitting on the ground in front of the truck where there was still some shade. The ground was cool beneath you, the air around you smelt like something that should be written about in a book; the earthy smell of grass , the distant hints of pine, the promise of wildflowers. Thor was sprawled out next to you but not in an overbearing sort of way. He just took up a lot of space. You tried not to concentrate on the fact that your knees were touching.

“So your granddaddy left you all this? I’d be pressed to sell it. It’s too bad ya can’t keep it.” You stiffened before catching yourself quickly, though you were pretty sure he had noticed He took his last bite before standing up. “You’ve got a life back home though. It’d be hard to leave that behind.” He held out his hand and you accepted it, wanting to push that cagey feeling behind you. He looked off in the distance, hands on hips, then back to you. “Well, ya ready for those tips?”

“Yes, sir.” You brushed dirt off your backside and put your gloves back on. “It is too bad,” you mumbled. Mumbled because you were too afraid that saying it out loud would change something for you. “That I can’t keep it, I mean.” He turned to you, not the least bit of surprise on his handsome face. But there was understanding there. He got it. You grabbed your post hole digger and went ten feet from the last post readying to dig the new hole. Thor watched your position for just a moment before you heard his footsteps come up behind you. And then he was standing there, at your back. If you took one half-step back you would be met with his chest. The day was warm but heat radiated off of him like a steadily growing fire. Something pooled low in your belly and your mouth went dry as he moved into your space and then you were flush with him.

His arms came around yours, his hands engulfing your own. His breath was warm near your ear as he rumbled “No, darlin’, like this.” He shifted your hands from the middle of the handles to the top. You were hyper aware of the way his arms felt around you, acutely aware of his scent. Sweat, and musk, and dirt. “That way you have more leverage and you’re not leanin’ over when it goes in the dirt.” He stayed like that for a moment, probably only seconds, but it felt like longer. You heard his breath catch from behind you before he slowly removed his hands, backing up just a pace. You immediately tried to retain the feel of him against you, the way his voice settled into you when he spoke. The way his smell engulfed you, making you feel like the safest person in the world. When was the last time you had felt that way?

Your limbs moved slow, as if your body was now full of lead. He moved back in again, briefly, sliding his boot between your feet and nudging them just a tad bit farther apart. “That’ll help too,” he said. And this time, when you raised the digger up and heaved down, you immediately noticed a difference. While it didn’t necessarily feel easier, it definitely didn’t hurt as much and your body didn’t feel as stiff, didn’t feel like it was being pushed into an awkward angle. You took a couple more plugs from the earth, digging down far enough to keep the pole stable and when you stood straight and looked at him, there was that grin written all over his face again. This time, that smile leapt to your face.

Thor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, red with a white paisley pattern, and raised his hand, slowly, as if he was touching a wild animal, wiping a streak of perspiration from your cheek. “That’s my girl! Keep that up, we might not need help like I said before,” he exclaimed with a wink. Time seemed to slow to a halt. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. The words thundered through your brain, down out your limbs, between your legs. That’s my girl.

You looked down at your watch, surprised to see the hands tick forward without delay. As the day went on, a thought tickled at the back of your mind, like a horses’ whiskers on your palm. It’d be easy to be his girl.

The night came in cold enough that you were filled with relief when Thor stood to his full height and stretched, slotting the post hole digger in a pile of soil and suggested the two of you call it a night. Goosebumps had already peppered your skin and the breath coming from your mouth was visible in the air. You nodded and stretched a little too, trying to ignore that stiffness you knew would turn into full-blown pain by tomorrow morning. Thor watched you quietly as you slowly put your jacket on; he glanced from the ground then to the sunset when you looked his way. You let out a small barking laugh and almost immediately regretted it, wincing as the cold night air ripped its way into your lungs.

You managed an uncomfortable grunt as you stuffed your gloves in your pocket and Thor grabbed the keys to his truck. You examined your hands; your palms looked like one huge blister. The skin was bubbled and inflamed and if you were being completely honest, it was one more thing you really had no idea how to take care of on a scale like this. Thor started the truck and even though it was only a ten-minute drive back to the house, you were already thankful in anticipation of him cranking the heater just a bit. It would hopefully be a small relief for the contracting sensation in the muscles along your shoulders and arms and back.

There was not a whole lot to gather since the only portion of the fence that went up today was the posts; still, you moved in to help him by grabbing some smaller loose supplies and your post hole digger. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the way he noted you navigating around your raw hands. It took a moment but soon he was wandering over to you and taking the items from you, nodding his head kindly to the truck. You mumbled your gratitude as you got in, frustrated with yourself. It was only the first day but Thor was already picking up your slack. You watched him from the passenger side mirror as he slammed the tailgate shut. There was not a bit of annoyance in his expression. You had small inkling you were being a bit too harsh on yourself.

When he got in, the truck groaned and immediately the cab that felt huge and open before now felt full; crowded but not in an unpleasant way. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as he settled in. He didn’t shift the truck into gear right away but instead sat back, gazing out the windshield at the sunset. Even from your vantage point, it was stunning. The sky was a variation of colors from deep black-blue, to a soft blue, to pink, to orange. The sun slipped back below the mountains to the north and west and the only detail you could make out on them now was their peaks; they were in shadow and looked like a great set of black teeth.

The light coming into the truck had softened, illuminating the planes of Thor’s face. The slip of his golden brown hair, the strong cheekbones and slope of his nose, the clean jawline that now had a five o’ clock shadow. It was quiet, save for the lulling roar of the truck engine and somehow you knew in that second, you wanted more of these moments. Your brain hadn’t quite latched onto how you would get them but you were going to try. Maybe it was Thor. Maybe it was the gentle heat in the cab with the chill outside. Maybe it was the clean smell of spring scented air. Maybe it was a hard day’s work that was so different than the long hours you kept at home. Right now, it didn’t really matter. You sat back with a sigh of content, able to ignore the subtle aching in your limbs. Finally, Thor let out a gentle hum, a sound you guessed actually reverberated through his body.

“When we get back to the house, we’ll take care of those hands, all right?” You nodded and he shifted the truck into gear, turning back the way you came this morning and it was suddenly all you could do not to reach out and rest one of those hands on his arm.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of Thor’s truck as he dropped you off at the front of the house, telling you he was gonna take a shower and then he’d be back up to bandage your hands. You tried to tell him you would take care of it, really, but he insisted. Deep down, you knew you had taken care of blisters on your heels before but nothing like this so you gave in, hiding a smile as he drove the truck down to the other cabin.

When you got to the bathroom, it took every effort not to just quit and wallow right there on the old tile floor but after a few struggling moments, you peeled your clothes from your body and stepped into the warm water, ignoring the stinging of the wounds. It took a few tries with washing off the dirt of the day, with every contact with soap intensifying the hurt in your hands. As you stepped out, you knew you’d be popping some Advil tonight; it would be foolish not to, you guessed.

You threw some leftover chicken noodle soup on the stove and plopped unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs, leaning your head against the wall as you relaxed. The fact that you hadn’t worked on the Harrison case for two and half days now nagged like a trapped rat at the back of your mind. Your laptop was currently upstairs though and there was no way you were forcing yourself up those steps again until you absolutely had to. Instead, you checked your emails on your phone, briefly scanning over the subjects on each of them and filtering out the spam. You set it back down with satisfaction. You’d just worked one of the hardest days in your life and you guessed it was probably going to remain tough from here on out. Despite that, you felt more nervous energy bubbling in your veins.

You decided to pull out the old maps you had found at the little desk in the living area. The house was small compared to the expanse of the land itself. Your grandfather hadn’t been a person who needed extravagance, that was for sure. Maybe you’d convert one of the guest rooms into a study. It would certainly be a lot easier to spread out property maps in an office rather than a little desk in the living room. You put little x’s where you thought the boundaries were. You were somewhat familiar in your work life with reading property maps but these… the maps were old enough that you were second-guessing if the plot already marked was accurate. Another thing to put on the to-do list for a town run. Land maps would be public record, especially in a town as small as Dove’s Reach.

A knock on the front door snapped you out of your thoughts. You hollered that the door was unlocked as you rolled the maps up and put them back on the desk out of the way. You ladled soup into bowls, setting them back on the counter to cool just a bit. You heard him knock his boots on the door jam outside and then set them with a thump just inside the door as he ambled into the kitchen. You reprimanded yourself as you turned and got caught off guard again by his size. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the wood of the kitchen entrance, completely filling it up, quietly surveying your movements. You thought he was zoning out but you were not entirely sure.

“Uh, I hope chicken soup is okay,” you let out. His eyes met yours and he nodded enthusiastically as he shot you a dazzling smile. You gave him one back. “Somewhere else just then?” He nodded and you took one bowl at a time to the table, a heavy cloth in between your skin and the bowls. You hissed as the edge of one of the bowls caught a patch of the blister, the hot ceramic making the burning more intense than it should be. Thor was behind you immediately, taking the bowl and steadying it. It was a good thing because you were certain you couldn’t have prevented a spill at this point.

“Let’s take care of those blisters first. Looks like that soup is a little too hot to eat just yet anyway.” You nodded as he placed a gentling hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you to the chair you were sitting in earlier. The pain was pretty bad at this point; you had taken Advil about fifteen minutes ago but it hadn’t taken effect yet so here you were, miserable, and trying to fight the hot tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing. Thor cleared his throat. “Did your granddaddy have a medicine cabinet around here?” You took a shaky breath and pointed to the little doorway off the kitchen.

“There’s one there in the laundry room on the opposite wall from the door.” He stepped away from you and into the little room. You could hear him open the cabinet door and rummage around. You hadn’t looked in there yet to see what supplies were available but you doubted any of it was still usable. Yet here was Thor, a huge grin on his face, some bandages in one hand and a questionable-looking jar in the other.

“I knew if your granddaddy was as much of a working man as you had mentioned that he’d have some of this here with him. Best ranch and farming remedy for just about anything.” You knew the look on your face was one of clear skepticism because he laughed, a deep booming thing that made you want to listen over and over again. “I know you city folk probably like to go to the doctor’s for everything but let me tell ya, if we put this on your hands twice a day and keep them all wrapped up, those blisters’ll be gone in no time. Three days tops,” he murmured as he finally looked at the ragged state of your palms. He was moving slower again, pulling out a chair and placing it right in front of you.

He sat down and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, your breath hitched when he caged your knees with his own. “Let me see ‘em up close, darlin’” he breathed as you held out your hands for closer inspection. He let out a low whistle as he gingerly took one, then the other to examine the raw skin. He rubbed a small circle on the inside of your wrist and you were acutely aware of every little detail as his calloused thumb against the soft skin there elicited an erratic heartbeat. He sat like that for a moment before seemingly catching himself; leaning back and reaching over to open the jar of salve. It was not a bad smell but you wrinkled your nose a little at it. He glanced over at you and smiled.

“This might hurt a bit. But it’ll help.” You nodded and braced yourself just a little. The balm itself didn’t sting but the contact of fingers on the blisters definitely did. There was no use hiding your grimace so you just let yourself go, taking deep breaths and letting them slowly out through your mouth. He was so gentle. This close and with his concentration on your hands, you allowed yourself to watch him unhindered by the threat of getting caught. His fingers were steady and slow and he was so sure of himself. You found yourself leaning into his touch, holding your breath. After he was satisfied with one hand, he took the roll of bandage material and slowly wrapped it around your palm, down around your wrist, and back up again to secure it in place.

“You did real good today,” he said quietly, still looking down, almost as if he was unsure he should say it. As if he thought you may not want his opinion. A smile spread across your face as you let out an exasperated groan.

“If you say so,” you replied, willing him to look up at your face to see that you mean it. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned to you then, looking back. Searching. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and creep down your neck and something leaped in your belly. He was so close. You could see his eyelashes. See how his eyes weren’t just one shade of blue but several different ones. You could smell him. A similar scent to when you first met him but also mixed with a fresher element from his shower. You could smell his wet skin and how it went from a day of work to warm water to the chill outside to the warmth of your house. It made you want to lean forward and bury your face in the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

You must have been staring a hole into him because he bit his lip then leaned back, finishing up with your other hand before grabbing the supplies and heading to the laundry room. “I do say so,” he rumbled from the little room. When he came back out again he’s smiling. His hands were on his hips and for whatever reason, it was exactly the release of whatever emotion that had transpired moments ago. You laughed, grabbing some bread slices and dropping them in the toaster. They popped up and you spread on some butter, ushering him to sit back down.

The conversation was easy, more idle chatter than anything else. Questions about each other’s lives. How long had he lived here? All his life. When did you know you wanted to work in law? As long as you could remember. You wanted to help people at the heart of it. How did he learn to train horses? From his daddy and his grandaddy before him. Would you ever consider keeping the ranch? The question caught you off guard and a rush of emotions flowed just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. Your pause told Thor what he had guessed the moment he saw you go to work on the land that morning.

“Of course I would,” you murmured as you pushed your empty bowl aside. You leaned onto the tabletop, one arm across its surface and the other supporting your face as your eyes stared off into space. “I just… I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me right now. If it had fallen into my lap under different circumstances or at a different time, maybe. But now? I don’t think so.” Your words trailed off and sounded empty even to your own ears. But as you glanced back up at Thor, there was no judgment there. Looking into his eyes, you could almost imagine a future here.

A future here was a dream though. A dream you were not keen on indulging. You tossed him a smile and grabbed the bowls to put them in the sink. Dreams were good. They could keep a person going. But you were already living a dream back home so you plastered your best convincing expression on your face just as he stood and brought the toast plates to the sink. You watched as he washed both of the plates, slowly, like he was waiting for you to amend your words. But you didn’t and he thanked you for dinner and headed for the door.

You followed him to it, leaning in the doorway as he stepped outside into the cold night air. He zipped up his jacket and turned back to you, a curious expression on his face. If he had thoughts about any of the night’s conversation, he didn’t voice them. Instead he just gave you that lopsided grin and bid you goodnight. Without a second thought, you reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned to you, looking at where your hand held on and then back to your face. You let go immediately.

“Um, thanks for… for today? For your help. Thanks for your help so far. I really appreciate it.” He chuckled low and quiet, a sound that seemed to continually get under your skin, and warmed you up from the inside out. He nodded.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” You watched from your place as he stepped off the porch; you could still see how his breath fogged up the air. “Good night,” he called over his shoulder.

You did not retreat into the warmth of the house until the darkness swallowed him up.

“This is ridiculous. What do you mean there’s a stipulation?” Another ten days had gone by and you were just now getting around to meeting with your grandfather’s attorney. Thaddeus Jones was emblazoned on the golden placard on his desk. The man before you did look like a Thaddeus but at the beginning of the meeting, he had insisted that you call him Jonesy. He sat back in his chair with a look somewhat like that of a golden retriever being scolded.

“Well, your grandfather wanted to give you time to… enjoy the little things in life again. He thought that maybe you’d need a break from all the hustle and bustle in New York. As such, in his will he specified that you could only sell the ranch if you stayed there for one year. If at the end of that year you decide that you still want to move forward with the sale, then you are more than welcome to and will receive any and all profits made from said sale. If, however, you have a change of heart, the ranch is also yours to run as you please. But if you decide to sell any time before then, all profits made from the sale will go to our local youth program.” There was no use trying to hide the stunned expression written all over your face. You had to stay here for a year? How were you even supposed to go about this without feeling torn about one thing or the other? You weren’t in it for the money. You knew that with a certainty that sat deep in your gut. And donating to a youth program was a great use of anyone’s money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought this wouldn’t be so complicated.” Jonesy nodded solemnly, his round spectacles sitting towards the tip of his nose. “I thought this would be a sign and done deal. I thought I wouldn’t feel so conflicted about leaving,” you finished quietly and suddenly it was as if the air had been punched from your lungs. There it was. There was the real reason this whole thing felt so ludicrous. It wasn’t the stipulation itself--it was the fact that you were actually considering it. You glanced out the vaulted window of Jonesy’s office. It was on the second story of his building and gave you a sweeping view of Dove’s Reach. It also gave you a focused picture of the huge storm brewing outside. Massive cumulus clouds gathered not so far away, the heart of them dark and foreboding. It mirrored the storm in your heart.

“I suppose the good news is that you have a while to make a decision. I’ll just have you sign some preliminary papers today and then you take all the time you need. It is a lot to take in but your grandfather was a good man, one of the best. I’ve known him since we were young colts ourselves. I’d like to think he knew what he was doing when he made this decision.” It was difficult to argue with any of that, considering you didn’t get the chance to know him better yourself. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Thank you, Jonesy. I really do appreciate it.” You bit your lip and glanced outside again. “That should work for today. I have a feeling I should be getting hom--getting back to the ranch before that hits.” You pointed and Jonesy watched you for a moment before nodding.

There really wasn’t much for you to sign at this point. Mainly papers about you having seen the will and that you had a knowledge of what was going to come of it. You gathered your copies and shook Jonesy’s hand before leaving; you were instantly glad that the two of you had decided to speed things up a bit because as soon as you exited the building, a cold gale hit you in the face, ripping back the hood of your jacket and nearly blowing your hair out of its braid. It would have been twice as cold had Thor not given you direction on which clothing was worth spending money on. You gave him a call, letting him know you were on the way back. It was a new routine, one that you had started. It felt good to have someone to stay in touch with. It was unlikely you’d get lost in such a small town, but still.

“Drive safe, darlin’. The closer you get out here, the harder the wind’s blowin’. I already put all the tools away and got most of the larger open spots on the barn boarded up. Also dropped some buckets on the front porch just in case. From what I could tell, the roof seemed pretty sounds but just in case.” A pause. “How did the meeting go?” You sucked in a breath.

“Different than how I thought it would go. I’d rather talk about it later though. I’m thinking I’m gonna head straight to bed when I get back. It’s just a lot. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drive back was definitely worse than the drive out. Wind and rain pelted your vehicle, so much so that by the time you got home your knuckles were white and your hands were aching when you released the steering wheel. Thunder rumbled closer and closer and lightning flashed in the distance. A warm bath and warm pajamas were currently at the top of your list. Then bed. You smiled when you saw there were indeed buckets on the front porch, all mix-matched colors and various sizes but they would do if the roof started leaking. At least you wouldn’t have to be scrambling to find anything if it did. There was also a note taped to the door, scrawled in surprisingly loopy handwriting.

Grabbing some clothes and things from my place, won’t be back for a couple hours. Call if you need anything :)

You smiled and stepped inside, glad to be out of the weather. As you turned again to glance out at the land, the sky darkened visibly even as you stood there. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Your phone screen was too bright in the dark space of the living room. 8:30 PM. The power had gone out and it had taken you a little bit of time to scrounge up some candles to keep things lit. You knew you should just go to bed but quite frankly, you knew that wasn’t a possibility. The storm raging outside was unlike any storm you’d experienced before. Sure, there were big storms back in New York but this… the wind and rain was coming down so hard, you were sure the roof was going to tear off. It was doing surprisingly well right now but with each big gust, the whole house groaned. The thunder and lightning were even worse. The sound of both was so close, so loud, so frequent that your ears were ringing. There was no way to research now with the internet out but you were pretty sure you had read something about lightning being able to strike you in a house.

You paced, already familiar with the location of the furniture, every wall, every corner. It was a comfortable dance around the couch, passed the coffee table, to the window by the fireplace and back. A flash of lightning burst in the sky, illuminating every contour of the layout of the house. Almost immediately the clap of thunder sounded like some ancient drum and despite the logical part of your brain telling you it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine, you dropped to your knees.

“Holy shit,” you breathed through clenched teeth. Your hands were shaking as you brought the phone to your ear. Thor was probably already asleep. He had gotten back about an hour ago and was a naturally early riser because he somehow was able to fall asleep early every night. He was probably asleep--

“What’s wrong?” The sleepy gravel in his voice sent shivers tripping down your spine. He had been asleep. But those two words were still calm. Concise. Protective. You were silent. Now you felt stupid.

“Uh, it’s--it’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you. I can’t sleep. This storm is pretty wild. Um. I thought maybe you’d still be awake and wanted a drink but it’s fine. We have--” You didn’t know if it was your rambling or if he sensed the fear in your voice.

“I’m comin’ up.” That was that. A dial tone. He had already hung up. There was no chance for you to object. You waited by the front door, listening to the rain and watching for more flashes of lightning. You heard Thor’s heavy footsteps as he came up the porch steps, saw him as a flash of lightning illuminated his outline from behind. You hastily opened the door. He hesitated for a moment, only long enough to watch as you nearly leaped out of your skin when another boom of thunder cascaded about you.

He stepped into you, wrapping you up in a hug. It was unexpected but you felt yourself sag into him. His jacket was wet from running through the rain so he slipped it around you and suddenly you were enveloped in warmth. You buried your face in his chest, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head, rubbing his hand down your back. You took deep pulls of his scent as his voice rumbled above you, into you from his chest.

“Aw, it’s just a little lightnin’, darlin’. Just a little storm. You’re safe. Nothin’ to worry about, I promise. You’re safe.” He kept murmuring it as he nudged the door shut behind him with his boot. Murmured your safety into existence like a mantra. As you rested there in his arms, your hands under his jacket around his back, you tried to remember the last time you felt this way, like nothing could touch you in the world. The house could crumble around you and you would be fine. In his arms, you would be fine. You gripped a little tighter, noticing with mirth how your hands could barely touch around his abdomen.

“How about that drink?” You said it into his chest as he stilled above you, breathing in slow and steady as he nodded into the top of your head. You reluctantly backed up from him as he slipped passed you into the living room making straight for the fireplace. He had it roaring as you brought two glasses of whiskey on the rocks and set them on the coffee table. You sat, dragging the blanket around your shoulders and allowing yourself to zone out while you stared into the fireplace. The crackling of its embers still couldn’t drown out the maelstrom outside, however. Thor took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. When he sat next to you, the couch sagged under his weight. He took a sip of his drink before sitting back and opening his arms in invitation. You didn’t wait this time, instead scooting over to nestle up against him. Heat radiated off of him.

“Did you know the diameter of a lightning strike is actually only about the size of a quarter? Think about that, that big ol’ powerful force of nature the size of a coin.” No you didn’t know that. Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder. This time you didn’t jump. “And thunder can actually be heard as far away as twelve miles from the actual strike.” Another sip of whiskey. “Lightning can also strike outside of the rain zone. Those strikes are called anvil crawlers.” A log shifted in the fire and your eyes drooped. He chuckled quietly as he intoned “In Norse mythology, the sound of thunder supposedly comes from my namesake as he rides his chariot across the sky.” You offered a lazy smile even though he couldn’t see it.

Thor continued on with more various facts about thunder and lightning and the storms that brought them. The taste of the whiskey sat light and spiced on your tongue, and your eyelids became heavier as you relaxed into him more. The fire burned steady and even though the storm continued to rage outside, at a certain point Thor’s voice faded into nothing as you fell asleep.

You woke up to the sun shining directly in your eyes. You groaned, shielding them from the crisp light and instantly regretted taking your hand out from under the blanket away from your heat source… Thor was stretched out behind you on the couch. It could barely fit the two of you but his arm was locked around your waist, caging you in. His breath came slow and steady on your neck. You could hear the rooster calling from his coop by the barn, hear his hens clucking about him. The cat you still hadn’t named was curled up on the rug by the fireplace, the embers almost completely died down. Thor took a huge breath, tickling the hairs on your neck as he rumbled something into the skin there. Your heart ballooned in your chest.

“I guess my facts weren’t that interestin’, seein’ as how we both fell asleep. Want some coffee?” You nodded as the two of you sat up. The cat chirruped from his place on the rug. He stood and arched his back in a stretch as well, coming over to the two of you for his morning pets. You both reached down to touch his hand, your hands meeting in the middle. Thor offered you a sheepish grin as he stood. “Uh, coffee is… ?”

“In the cupboard above the pot.” You smiled back, not bothering to hide any of the warmth in its shape. You stood, letting the cat out the front door. He seemed a little indignant at the fact that it was so wet outside but his ears swiveled and he was out the door and racing down the steps. You added some kindling and more logs to the fire, satisfied as flames leaped into existence. Thor handed you a mug of steaming coffee, with cream and a little bit of brown sugar. How he knew how you liked your coffee you didn’t know. But you liked that he knew.

The storm had cleared. A peek of blue sky could be seen from the window. With the clear sky came clear thoughts. It had been two weeks already since you had come to Dove’s Reach. Two weeks since you learned you had the rights to a whole ranch. A day since you had learned that you had to stay here for a whole year if you wanted to see any profits from selling. And only a night since you had realized that a year was no time at all.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor #thor odinson #cowboy thor #western thor #i need a hero #inthorantine writes #i did it!!!!#i finally am posting it!#i hope chapter 2 will be just as good

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