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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

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A Wife for Thor Pt.19

The True Heir

03/09/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,781

Warnings: angst, depression, pregnancy, marital troubles, pining

A/N: There is very little editing. Forgive me. I’m sleepy. I’ve been up writing all night. I’ve also been hurting, but it’s all good! I’m so happy to get this chapter out. *insert evil laugh* If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! it truly means so much, more than you know. xoxo

Sunday

Today you do nothing.

You’d opened up your laptop last night and attempted to scribble a few lines for your next book, but all you could think about was Thor, Jane, the babies to come, and where exactly you fit amongst all of it.

After typing Thor’s name along with a few other random words for the tenth time, you gave up and shut the laptop. You’d crawled into bed, bundled up under your fluffy comforter, and bid goodbye to the world as you caved in to unconsciousness.

The fact that morning is here, you find that your hope for today to be better than yesterday was silly. How can anything ever be good again?

You place your hands on your lower tummy, caressing what feels like a very slight swell. It’s just barely harder than the rest of your stomach. Firm. Despite the happiness that your baby brings you, you stare across the room at your computer and can’t find it in you to get up and work.

Instead you roll over onto your other side and pull Thor’s--that is to say, the one he’d used while he was here--pillow over to cling to.

Thor’s texts are also still fresh in your mind.

Sleep didn’t dull their effect on you or the confusion they raised.

Did they mean that he wouldn’t get an annulment? That’s sorta what you were getting from them. His declarations that he couldn’t live without you and that he would die for you and that he missed you so much at his side sounded like he was also telling himself how he felt. As if he were, not so much convincing, but reaffirming what he already knew.

You reach over and switch your phone on, clicking through to your messages to find that Thor must have stolen his phone back from Loki at some point.

Thor: Good morning, my cherub. I hope you slept well.

Thor: I could hardly sleep with you absent beside me.

Thor: Our bed is too big without you in it.

Thor: Have you seen the doctor yet? You’ll text me as soon as you get a diagnosis, won’t you? I’ll be waiting.

Thor: Loki insists that I give you some distance to rest but being apart from you is torture.

Thor: Would you be very angry with me if I came to see you?

Thor: I have some things I must deal with here before I can go though. Loki is right. I should allow you rest and fix things here before I come to you.

Thor: Are you still sleeping, cherub? I’m sorry if my messages are disturbing you. I haven’t gone this long without talking to you since...I wish I’d met you years ago. When things weren’t so complicated.

Thor: Would you have let me court you even though I am the God of Thunder? Future King of Asgard? Would you have married me when I came back with my people to live here on Earth?

Thor: I think if I had to choose all over again, you’re still the only woman equal to the task of being my Queen.

Thor: And the love that has grown between us is...I will never take it for granted…

As you read that last message, you assume he wants to say he won’t take it for granted again. He’s already let it slip through his fingers, although he doesn’t know it yet.

Thor: Perhaps this can be that break you were talking of. For our baby? Maybe we do need a little bit of relaxation to let our bodies recover?

Thor: And yet, I can’t wait to start a family with you, cherub.

You’re bawling all over again, your eyes flooding with tears as you bury your face into his pillow and sob loudly.

He’d said that he missed your body next to his. You can relate. You want to feel the heavy fall of his chest, the deep breaths that fill his lungs and escape through his lips in a quiet little snore that always makes you cuddle into his side.

Normally, he’d respond by turning to face you and holding you right up against his chest.

The comfort that simple thing would give you right now when your heart is aching so painfully is what you so desperately need. But...you’re so angry too. You don’t want him near you.

The images that flood your mind are torture. Mixtures of pleasant, happy moments now marred by the betrayal and anger that has taken hold of your heart.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream until your throat really does go hoarse. Frustration at the force of change you’ve had to make in the past twenty-four hours.

You’re startled back to the present when your phone rings. You make a small attempt to clear your throat then answer and the absolute gravel voice you use settles any wondering as to whether your illness is real.

“Hello?” you whisper, clearing your throat to no avail.

“Oh, cherub, you sound terrible.”

Your heart panics. How are you supposed to talk to him?

You don’t want to talk to him.

“I can’t really talk,” you say weakly hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Did the doctor see you already?” Thor asks, his worry evident in the quiet tone of his voice.

“Yes, he gave me some medicine and told me to try not to talk,” you lie, surprisingly easy right now since you don’t want to talk.

For your emotional sanity, you need to hang up soon.

“I’m so sorry, love. I wish I could take this illness from you. Where’s David? I’d like to talk to him.”

You panic again, floundering as you cough and clear your throat to buy some time.

“He’s not here. He went to the store to get some groceries,” you hope he buys it.

“I’ll call him a little later then. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, Thor,” you mumble, suddenly not wanting to hang up.

How can one person give you so much ease and worry all at once? How can he be your source of agony and comfort at the same time? It’s not fair.

“I have so much to tell you, but...now is not the right time. You need to get better first.”

Nevermind! Fuck this guy. Your heart sinks.

“I have to go,” you tell him, hoping he’ll just hang up and leave you be now.

“Very well. I love you, cherub.”

How do you answer him without giving anything away just yet?

“Me too,” you choose. And it’s true.

Even if he’s torn your heart into pieces, he’s still the father of your baby and you still love him.

Whatever madness overcame him when he’d suggested to Loki getting an annulment was the best course of action seems to have passed. Loki must be right about him.

“Bye, Thor,” you whimper.

“Bye, Y/N,” he says your name, making your heart quake a bit.

You hang up and quickly dial up David.

He answers after two rings.

“Hello? How is my favorite girl in the whole wide world?”

He sounds amused by something, or just happy. It’s such a difference to how you feel at the moment that it breaks you and you sob again, renewing your tears.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” David demands, clearly now beginning to fret over the way you sound.

You tell him everything. Somehow you manage to get it all out minus one important detail and when you’re done recounting the most horrible night of your life, David sighs heavily and you can almost picture him settling into a deep armchair with massive worry weighing on his shoulders.

“Well, the good thing is, if he goes through with an annulment, you’re to be given a monthly allowance for the rest of your life. It was a condition in your contract, should Thor change his mind about marrying you. But he didn’t so it was moot, until now. You will be a very rich woman. More so than the small fortune you originally inherited.

“I know that money is hardly a consolation for the man that you love-” David sighs again. “Perhaps he said it in madness? He must have been very upset. Caught by surprise?” David offers.

“Even if he doesn’t mean it or doesn’t go through with it, I know that for you the point is the thought was there.

“However, I do think we must make allowances for Thor. I’m sorry to say. He is a king and he’s responsible for his entire people. A baby would give them security. Stability. A legitimate heir would tie them to Earth forever.

“We musn’t make light of his choices. This isn’t a common situation to find one’s self in. For either of you.”

“David, I’m pregnant.” You finally explain, knowing that it will maybe just show him a little bit more of what you’re facing. “I went to tell Thor and that’s when I overheard them.”

For a moment he’s speechless. When he speaks again, his voice is heightened.

“Congratulations! I-I knew it would happen eventually. The timing is a little-”

“I haven’t told him yet, clearly.”

Silence again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I was so happy when I went to tell him and then I heard their conversation and I-I just can’t find the strength to do it right now. Not until I know whether he wants the annulment.”

David breathes in deeply and then exhales slowly into the phone. His breath is light and soft.

“You’re afraid that he will only stay with you because of the child,” a statement.

David knows you better than anyone else in your life. It’s not surprising that he’d make the leap so quickly.

“He’s willing to leave me and marry Jane because of her baby. It’s possible that he’ll stay by my side only because of our baby and I’d rather he do what’s best for our people than to stay with me because of a sense of obligation.”

“It could be that Jane will not want him. She might keep her child away from the Asgardian royal court. Didn’t she refuse to marry him because she didn’t want to be Queen?” David’s voice is pensive. “This might all feel much larger than it is. I suggest you take some time to really think through your actions before making any decisions.”

“I’m not going to never tell him, David. He’s the father of my child. He has to know that he has two and not just the one. I don’t think I could do that to him. I could never keep him from his children.

“Either of them.”

“You are magnanimous, Y/N. More than even I thought you were capable of.”

“Bullshit. I ran away and am refusing to see him until I get my week of space,” you nod firmly. “But David-?”

“Tell me,” he urges you, recognizing your tone of anguish.

“I-I know that I accepted this marriage hesitantly. It wasn’t like I asked for it and you know how I felt before Thor asked me to marry him. You know how s-scared I was about marrying someone who was in love with someone else, and now...now he’s-”

“He’s married to you, Y/N. Not Ms. Foster. And from what I have been able to see, he does love you. Not Jane. This is a temporary setback. If you’re angry at him, be angry at him. Don’t pretend you aren’t. If you’re hurt, show it. Wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Loving someone is one of life’s greatest blessings. Sometimes that love doesn’t last, sometimes it takes a beating. But you must choose whether your love is worth fighting for.

“You’ve also got obligations that you cannot escape from. Duties to your people as their Queen.”

“Assuming Thor doesn’t leave me and take my crown,” you scoff.

“I’m with your brother-in-law. I don’t think it will come to that. I think Thor was a little shocked and thrown by Ms. Foster’s news. Now that he has had some time to think, I believe he’ll do right by you and when you tell him, your child.”

“I won’t tell him until he makes up his mind,” you insist.

“That is your prerogative. Do what you need to. What can I do to help? What do you need from me?”

“Just be prepared for any eventuality. I’m not sure what’s going to happen at the end of this week. Oh, and if Thor calls you--just make something up and tell me what you say. He thinks you drove me from the airport and have been staying with me.”

“Using me as your alibi so that your husband won’t come looking for you,” David clicks his tongue. “How much detail shall I give him?”

“You’ve got a job too, just tell him you’re coming and going. Tony had his staff install some security on the house after the honeymoon. I’m safe here. He’ll believe that I’m safe if that’s all you say.

“Anyway, I need to go. I have two more calls to make before I can relax and enjoy my break from the throne.”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me. Anything, Y/N. I mean it.”

“Thanks, David. I can always count on you,” you smile.

Just a tiny one. A very subtle curve at the corners of your lips.

“Well, you do pay me,” he jokes, which actually pulls a small laugh from you.

“Right. Bye, David.”

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

You take only a minute to think about your conversation with David before you make the most important calls of your week in solitude.

The first one is simple. Just a reminder of doctor-patient confidentiality. He understands what you’re saying even if he doesn’t practice by that mentality.

Dr. Wilson’s phone call is more difficult. She wants an explanation. She wants to know why she’s not allowed to tell your husband, the King of New Asgard, that he’s finally got what you and he have been wanting.

An heir!

It’s painful to talk about but you tell her what’s happened. You tell her that Thor doesn’t know that you know about Jane’s baby.

She’s very quiet as you talk. She assumes things and you can hear her anger when she starts to ask for what she can tell Thor.

“He didn’t cheat on me, Dr. Wilson,” you explain, hoping that this will ease her anger.

You’re angry at Thor because of the annulment, not because he and Jane have created a life from their love. You’re hurt because he’s willing or was willing--you’re not sure yet--to leave you to be with Jane, even if not for love but for the baby growing within her.

You’re hurt because the man you love was choosing his duty over his feelings for you.

Even though you know that he’s right to do it. Even though you know that you should understand because he’s King and you also took an oath to put the people of New Asgard first.

It’s your duty to put their well-being before your own. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

In Thor’s mind, his only duty is to his child. Jane’s child. He doesn’t know you’re carrying one of your own yet. Even though that would probably make sure that he stays with you because of the baby, you don’t want that to be the reason he stays.

Proud fool.

“Thor slept with Jane the same night he proposed to me. This was before we loved each other, when leaving Jane was the hardest thing he’d had to do. I don’t hold that against him.”

You don’t tell her about the annulment. She doesn’t need to know how messy this all is.

“He’ll probably call for you and Dr. Alric soon. Loki suggested they get Jane checked so act surprised? But please don’t tell him I’m pregnant. Not yet. He’s coming to see me at the end of the week and I’ll tell him myself then. Please?” And it really is a genuine plea.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Your Majesty. I would like to come and check on you. You don’t sound well.”

She’s very sweet and her concern is touching.

“Thor will probably send you to me eventually. He’s worried but he’s clearly got other things on his mind.”

“I’ll make arrangements to head over there tomorrow. Oh, can you hold for one minute Your Majesty? I’m so sorry.”

“Of course.”

There’s silence on the phone for a few minutes before she comes back.

“It was His Majesty. He’s told me about Jane but she’s not available for an examination until later in the week. So, he’s asked me to come to you first. I’ll be there tonight.”

For some reason, the idea of having her with you eases some of the stress you’ve been carrying with you since yesterday.

“I’ll call and have a car sent for you.”

“Actually, His Majesty has promised to bring me straight to you via bifrost.”

“Wait, what?” You sit up in bed, clutching your blanket to your chest as your nerves suddenly fray and panic begins to build up within you.

“Should I come by plane?” She asks, worried by the sound of your voice.

You can’t see Thor. No. You can’t.

“No. I’ll just be going out later tonight to pick up a few things that I need here at the house. Toilet paper, napkins, laundry soap. I just didn’t want you to get here when I was out, but I’ll text you the passcode to get in.”

You’ll just have to make sure that you’re not at home when they come. That’s what you’ll do. This is a perfect excuse to be out since you need to get the stuff you listed anyway.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t just like me to come by plane?”

“No, really. The sooner you get here, the better. The car ride is so long from the airport. I’ll see you tonight, Dr. Wilson.”

“Bye, Your Majesty.”

Even though you know that you have hours upon hours until Thor brings Dr. Wilson here, you force yourself out of bed and abandon your plans to wallow in your feelings so that you can shower, get dressed, and leave the house.

If Thor’s coming, you’re going to be as far away from your house as you can be. You’re not ready to see him again just yet. You only have small errands to run but you’re gonna stay out all damn day if it’s the last thing you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

Thor is at a loss. Completely and utterly lost without you.

If he was ever in doubt as to how he really felt about you--which he never has been because he knows himself well enough to know better--he knows now that you are the light of his new life here on Earth.

His reign would mean significantly less without you at his side.

Even though the time you’ve spent together has been a short few months, they have been the best months of his life.

If he’d had one of those other women he’d interviewed become his Queen, this life he’s chosen to lead would have felt empty and tedious. Instead of watching his Queen spend her time with his people leading the way in progress.

You’re so eager to be part of the Asgardian populace. They’ve embraced you so fully.

With a sigh, Thor leans forward and buries his face into his hands as he mentally trashes himself for the absolute fool that he’s been about this entire situation.

The fact that he’d even entertained the thought of leaving you.

He wants to cry and tear his hair out in frustration.

Should he tell you that the thought was weighed along with many others at Jane’s news?

And Jane.

Thor groans.

She’s been avoiding him since she told him. He can’t exactly blame her for it. He hadn’t exactly taken the news well.

He had no reason to expect her to be receptive to him after he’d basically accused her of being confused about it. She knew her own body. If she said she was pregnant, what reason would he have to doubt her?

He’s messed everything up so much and he’s terrified to tell you about Jane.

What if you have the same idea he did? What if you decide to leave him in some foolish attempt to have him marry her and legitimize his future child?

It’s something you would do. Sacrifice yourself so that he could do the right thing.

The thought of living this life of rule without you at his side is unbearable.

With another frustrated groan, he gets up and moves to pace the length of the room, ignoring the large pile of paperwork on his desk as his mind moves in circles.

It always comes back to you.

And then you’d been out when he’d gone to drop off Dr. Wilson. He hadn’t expected you to be gone. He’d wanted to see you. To hold you. Touch you. Hear your voice after so much turmoil.

You are his only solace.

Going so close to you and not seeing you has left him with a terrible pain in his chest.

His phone rings.

Thor dives for his phone and fumbles with it as he grabs it off the bed. He almost loses it over the opposite edge.

He literally throws himself towards it and lands with a grunt onto the bed as he catches it.

He presses the button on the screen without looking to see who it is because he only wants it to be you.

“Cherub?” he gasps, his voice an octave higher than normal with the little bit of exertion he just underwent.

“Oh, no. Sorry, Your Majesty, it’s Dr. Wilson. I was just calling to give you your daily report on Her Majesty’s health.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I just haven’t heard from-” He clears his throat, sits up, and slides to the edge of the bed. “No matter. How is my Queen, doctor?”

“She was asleep. But just woke up. She’s very tired. Her throat is better, but she’s had a fever every morning since Sunday.”

Thor sits up straighter, hand clenched into a fist around the edge of the bed as his heart starts to thrum loudly.

“Is she seriously ill?”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty. But she really does need rest. She has been under severe stress and I’m sorry to say that your constant messages are not letting her rest.”

Thor’s heart drops and buries itself into a hole at the bottom of his stomach. He feels numb suddenly, fearful of what he might be doing to you. The guilt of what he knows he must tell you soon also weighs down on him.

“Are you saying that I should leave her be until she is recovered?” Thor checks, just in case he’s not understanding correctly.

“I’m saying that if you want her to get well quickly, you must give her what she asked you for. She needs rest.”

Thor hates that he can’t be there to check on you. He wants to feel you close. He wants to see you. What if you’re deathly ill and you’re telling Dr. Wilson to lie for you?

You abhor lies and cherish honesty , but he can see you lying in order to spare him pain. Just as he is lying to spare you the worry of all this uncertainty with Jane.

Although he knows that he can never lose you now and even with a child coming with Jane, you are his wife and he can’t leave you. He was stupid to think he could even try. The thought was a sin and he’ll never forgive himself for thinking it.

Loki was so angry with him.

Rightfully so.

The good thing is that you’ll never know how bleak things looked. At least he has found his sanity again.

“Will you keep me informed? I’ll stop contacting her if you will promise to tell me how she fares. If she gets worse, I want to know.” Thor insists, his voice passionate and begging.

“You have my word, Your Majesty. Have you heard anything from Ms. Foster? Do we know exactly when we’ll be running her tests?”

“She’s very busy. As of now, it’s looking more and more likely that we won’t be able to find the time until the week’s end. After we confirm her pregnancy, I’ll tell Y/N. I’m sorry that I’ve asked you to collude in this business.”

There’s a long pause and for a moment Thor thinks that maybe the phone has disconnected but then Dr. Wilson sighs, “I cannot wait for this week to be over. Will you come back for me then? When she’s ready?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up in the same spot that I left you. My wife wasn’t too upset about her lawn, was she? Only, Stark seems to get irritated with me every time I land on his.”

“No,” Dr. Wilson chuckles once. “She was not upset. Again, there’s little more than her throat, head, and fever on her mind. I’ve gotta go. She’s gone out into the garden for some fresh air but I need to get her back into bed.”

“Please take good care of her, doctor. She’s...well, she’s my wife,” Thor finishes heavily.

The phone goes dead and Thor sits there staring at his phone until he can find the strength to get to his feet and go off in search of Jane. They really need to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday

Thor is upset.

He’s beyond frustrated by now.

He’s irritated.

It’s a week tomorrow since he’s seen you and he can’t stand the distance anymore.

Dr. Wilson snuck him a photo but you’d been sitting on your sofa, looking weak and withdrawn.

He’s not sure what exactly is making you sick, but he knows that he can’t go another day without seeing you.

He needs to get Dr. Wilson back here and he needs to get confirmation so that he can have something to tell you once he sees you.

He won’t lose you over this.

It was one last time. One final goodbye with Jane and he’d thought she was on her birth control but apparently she hadn’t been so he hadn’t bothered to protect himself from the possibility of getting her pregnant.

Why hadn’t she said anything?! Why hadn’t she told him that she wasn’t on her pill?

He knows it’s wrong to blame her. It took both of them to make this baby, but being away from you for so long is wearing thin and he’s losing all semblance of patience.

It takes some very careful maneuvering. Heimdall is sent first, then Hilde, then Loki.

None of them know why they’re going in to corner Jane in the tower except for Loki. Well, Heimdall knows, but there’s no hiding much from Heimdall. He pretends not to know and that’s good enough for Thor.

Loki is just stepping out of the tower when he turns to look at Thor with a grave almost exhausted expression.

“She’s up there,” he assures Thor, frowning as he shuts the heavy door. “When will this end, Thor? Are you going to keep the Queen away forever?”

Thor says nothing, he’s too upset to speak. He pulls the door open roughly and stomps his way up the steps taking them two at a time until he’s standing on the top floor landing.

He can see Jane biting her lip, pacing the length of the room until she turns and finally sees him.

“Thor…” she gasps, not expecting to see him.

“We have to talk, Jane.”

She looks away, turning her back on him then moves towards her laptop which she carefully closes. She puts her hand up to her throat and turns to face him.

“I will have Dr. Wilson brought in and Dr. Alric to give you the same tests they have been giving Y/N. They will be confirming your pregnancy and once we have that, then we can all sit down and figure out-”

“I’m not pregnant,” Jane gasps, her voice filling the room despite the quiet breath that escapes her pink lips.

Thor’s stomach twists. It’s agony.

On the one hand, the words she’s just spoken are...they’re a celebration. They’re simplicity. They’re peace and a return back to normal where in his life there is only you.

On the other hand, he’s just lost a baby he never had. An heir that he’d been expecting and now can never get back.

He’d made plans for this child. He’s pictured his life with them, the happiness and joy that their birth would bring to the people of New Asgard. The assurance that they would always belong to Earth.

He’d picked names for boys and girls. He’d begun to make a list of nursery items they would need even as he lamented that the baby was not yours but Jane’s.

This baby would have, and had already begun to change his life.

And now this?!

“What?” he very nearly spits.

Jane is so flustered she’s wringing her hands hard, welting them red.

“I’m...I didn’t expect to come here and see you with her and see how fast you just-” she waves her hand as if shooing away some animal. “-moved on. It’s like you were never with me.

“You were both so happy and talking about the future and I just lost it for a little bit,” she shrugs. “I have no excuses, Thor. I’m sorry if what I said hurt you. It was selfish of me and I just loved you for so long. You were mine, you know? And now you’re married, planning to have kids, and your wife is so nice and considerate and even though she has every reason to hate me, she was polite and so damn perfect…

“I’m not afraid to say that it made me hate her. I’m ashamed of it, but not enough to take it back.”

The silence is thick. The air suddenly grows charged and Thor’s eyes shine a bright sparkling blue.

His hands crackle and his eye spits as if full of blue fire.

The sky overhead thunders and the world shakes with the boom. The lightning strikes sharp and fast, shaking the tower so that for a moment, Thor can see how Jane thinks it might topple.

His anger gives way to betrayal and his lightning fizzles out as he takes a step towards her, his brow furrowed, eye full of pain as he stares at her, searching for the joke that this must be.

There is no way that this is really happening.

“You lied to me?” Thor accuses.

Jane blanches, her lips going pale as she takes a step towards him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, I just-I didn’t want to see you with her anymore and I wasn’t thinking straight so I just said it before I could stop myself. I know that it was wrong and I didn’t think it would go on for so long. I wanted to tell you almost as soon as I said it that it wasn’t true, but then you just took off and then the Queen left and I wasn’t sure if you told her and maybe that’s why she wasn’t here.”

Thor shakes his head, turning away from her as he paces towards the stairs but then turns back, his anger returning but full of pain now.

“I defended you. When Loki insisted I have you tested I asked him if he doubted you and I assured him that you would not lie about something this important. What reason would you have to lie?” he demands, almost of himself instead of Jane.

“Thor,” Jane begins.

“How long were you going to let me think you were carrying my child? How long were you planning to con me?” he accuses and his words seem to hurt Jane.

Thor can’t find it in him to care too much.

“I wasn’t-that’s not what I meant to do, Thor. Please, you have to believe me. I just didn’t know how much seeing you with her would-”

“You have no right to be upset!” he booms, his voice loud and it startles Jane quiet.

She’s never heard him angry like this. She’s never heard his voice raised.

“I gave you every opportunity to be with me, to marry me, to build a life here with me and be my Queen. You didn’t want it! You flat-out refused to be tied down by me and this Kingdom but now that you see me and my wife happy, you change your mind?

“You have the audacity to raise obstacles between us because you have regrets?”

“Thor,” she tries again, but Thor won’t let her speak.

“Get out,” he says sternly, turning to move towards the stairs.

“What?!”

“I said, get out. You are no longer welcome in my home. Pray no one ever finds out of your treachery. And should you have the urge to return for any reason, don’t.”

Thor storms down the steps, so angry that each step shakes the tower.

He’s breathing heavily as he slams the door shut behind him.

The storm air helps to calm him a bit. It clears his mind at least and the past week zooms by him like an unpleasant movie.

All of that worry and the plotting and planning. The agony that he felt wondering if you’d leave him when you found out about his child with Jane was the most unbearable.

Your face flashes before his eyes and he knows that there’s only one place he can be right now.

He throws his hand out and a metallic whistling rushes closer before his fist closes around his hammer.

He swings it firmly and throws it up into the air as he makes for your home.

Now that he has nothing to keep him here, he’s eager to get back to you. He’ll tell you everything and hope that you can forgive him for lying to you about Jane.

Even though it was a lie by omission, it was still a lie.

“I’m coming, my cherub,” he whispers, so eager to have you in his arms again.

Nothing will ever tear him from you again. He is certain. Nothing. Not a false heir, or a former love, no doubts exist within him anymore. You are the one.

The only one.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #a wife for thor pt19

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musette22 · 4 years ago

Text

Drunk in Boston

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: A week or so ago, I saw this post. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I decided to write a ficlet, a little Evanstan AU. It’s a bit late maybe, since Christmas has already been and gone, but it’s still technically the holidays so just indulge me? :p

Also, I hit 3k followers this week, so this is also a sort of thank you to all you amazing, wonderful, beautiful people for getting me here. Love you all as much as I love these boys as much as they love each other 💘 Hope you enjoy!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It’s 3 p.m. on 17 December, and Chris is a little bit drunk. Maybe even a lotta bit.

In his defense, he is currently in Boston for a bachelor party and they did just do a tour of the Samuel Adams Brewery. It’s not like he makes a habit of daytime drinking. Not this much, anyway.

Chris stumbles out of the bar that’s attached to the brewery, surrounded by a dozen or so old school friends, all of whom are in a similar state of inebriation, when they pass the gift shop and a familiar image catches his eye. Chris stops in his tracks. On closer inspection, what he saw turns out to be a photo, displayed in a stand outside the shop, of a park in Concord near where Chris grew up.

No, not a photo.

A postcard.

He plucks the card from the stand, swaying on his feet a little as he peers at it. In the image, the park is covered in snow, much like it would be right now, and stamped across it in a red, gothic font are the words ‘Happy Holidays’.

Instantly, Chris is hit by a wave of nostalgia. No doubt the feeling is heightened by the alcohol – he always tends to get a little sentimental when he’s drunk – but it’s not just that. It’s also the fact that Chris and his friends have been reminiscing about the good old days all afternoon as well as the sudden, depressing realization that despite all he’s achieved in the past decade or so, his happiest memories are probably those of childhood Christmases spent in Concord.

These days, Chris lives in on the West Coast. He’s kind of a superstar now, after all, and superstars live in LA – everybody knows that. Chris doesn’t usually let himself dwell too much on how lonely he is there, or how he misses the comforting accents and the real winters of the East Coast. Tonight, though, whether because of the booze in his system or the ghosts of Christmas past, he allows himself to feel the stab of homesickness.

Without conscious input from his brain, Chris finds himself buying the postcard. When the cashier asks him if he’ll be needing he stamp, too, he hesitates. “Yeah, why not,” he decides, on a whim. It’s a Christmas card, after all, and Christmas cards are supposed to be sent.

There’s just one slight issue with his plan, Chris realizes as soon as he puts the borrowed pen to the card.

He’ll need an address to send the card to.

Frowning, he taps the pen against the counter, thinking as hard as his beer-addled brain will allow him, but the only address he can think of off the top of his head is that of his childhood home, back in Concord. But… that would be weird, right? He has no idea who’s been living there, since his parents sold the house after the divorce. Then again, Chris tells himself, this could be his good Christmas deed. Sending a postcard to a total stranger just to wish them happy holidays, that’s totally in the Christmas spirit, isn’t it?

With a decisive nod of his head, Chris puts his pen to paper and starts to write. It’s just a few lines, because there’s only so much you can say to a total stranger, but when he signs off with his initials, he feels good about it. He asks the cashier for the nearest post box, which happens to be just outside the building, so he thanks the guy and heads outside.

Pulling his pea coat tighter around him against the glacial December air, Chris spares the card one last look, and drops into the post box. It feels significant, somehow.

He doesn’t get time to dwell on it though, because the moment his friends spot him, he’s immediately and enthusiastically subsumed back into the group and dragged on to the next boozy destination.

Three drinks on, Chris has forgotten all about the postcard.

***

On the morning of 18 December, Sebastian Stan opens his postbox to find a postcard with a photo of the park near his house on the front, and a hastily scribbled message on the back:

Hey,

I used to live in your house.

I’m drunk in Boston, and it’s the only address I know.

Happy Holidays,

C.E.

Even after re-reading the message three times, Sebastian is none the wiser as to who sent it.

It makes sense other people used to live in the house Sebastian’s been renting, but unsurprisingly, he has no clue who they were. It was only last year that he’d decided to relocate from New York to Concord, craving a change of pace and more peace and quiet than the Big Apple had been able to offer. He’d visited Concord on a research trip for his third novel the year before and had immediately taken a liking to it. So when, after asking his estate agent to put out some feelers in the area, the guy had found him this beautiful place to rent within a day, Sebastian had taken it as a sign.

It’s a big old house – more appropriate for a family than a man living alone, perhaps – but Sebastian can afford it, and it has a lived-in vibe that makes it feel intimate, somehow. Its location on the edge of a large park, peaceful apart from the joggers and young families that frequent it, suits his needs perfectly, too. Despite being a successful author, Sebastian prefers to keep himself to himself. He’s not one for ostentatious book tours or photoshoots, doesn’t believe in social media beyond its promotional potential, and he’s found that he blends in perfectly in this picturesque little town.

In addition to being a private person, however, Sebastian is an inherently curious one.

It’s why he became a writer in the first place, and it’s also why the random, slightly mysterious postcard instantly fascinates him. Someone who decides to send a Christmas card to the stranger living in their childhood home has got to be an interesting person, Sebastian figures.

Unable to resist the temptation, he finds the landlord’s number and presses call.

“The initials C.E.?”

“C.E., that’s right,” Sebastian repeats patiently. “I received a postcard from someone with those initials who said they used to live in this house and wished me Happy Holidays. I’d like to thank them for the card, maybe tell them they’re free to come by the house anytime, if that’s something they’d like.”

“Well,” the landlord says, clear hesitation in his tone. “I wouldn’t usually give out this kind of information, especially not about this particular person. But seeing as he approached you first, I guess it should be alright…”

Chris Evans.

Famous Hollywood actor Chris Evans used to live in Sebastian’s house. The house he’s renting. Whatever.

The point is, Chris Evans sent him a postcard. Sebastian would be lying if he said that knowledge didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. He isn’t one to get star-struck, normally, knowing full well the rich and famous are people just like anyone else, only with an added layer of expensive, sparkly veneer.

Chris Evans, though. Well, let’s just say Chris’s blue eyes, his dazzling smile, and his chest – god, that chest – had helped along Sebastian’s gay awakening considerably, all those years ago.

So even though he realizes what he’s about to do could be considered slightly unethical, the next number Sebastian dials is that of his agent. There’s no harm in asking if there’s any chance she could use her industry connections to pass on a message to Chris Evans, surely?

“Chris Evans?” his agent repeats blankly. “The British radio DJ or the actor?”

Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “Actor. Definitely the actor. Why would I want to send a message to a British radio DJ?”

“Why would you want to send a message to the actor?” she shoots back. “Apart from the obvious, of course.”

Touché.

Once he’s explained the situation to her, his agent hums thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll admit that’s pretty amazing,” she says. “As it happens, I know someone at CAA who owes me a favor. I’ll see what I can do.”

Sebastian thanks her warmly, and then he waits.

***

That afternoon, Chris gets a phone call from his agent.

“Thank you for the postcard,” she reads aloud. “If you're ever in the neighborhood, you’re welcome to stop by the house and have a look around, for old time’s sake. Happy Holidays, Sebastian Stan.”

“Sebastian Stan?” Chris asks, eyebrows shooting up. “The author?”

“Oh, you know him?”

“Well, no. Not exactly. I’ve read one of his books, though, the one that’s shortlisted for the Pulitzer price, I think? He’s very good.”

His agent hums. “If you say so. Do you want me to pass a message back to him?”

Chris opens his mouth to say yes, then closes it again. “Actually,” he says, making a spur-of-the-moment decision, “I’m still in the area so I think I’ll just pay him a visit. Do you think you could you cancel my flight back to LA this afternoon?”

His agent grumbles at him for a bit but eventually concedes, though not before she’s made Chris promise he’ll be back in LA on Tuesday, for the Christmas special he’s due to appear in. Fun.

For a few moments after he’s ended the call, Chris stares out of the window of his hotel room. It’s snowing again, big flakes fluttering down from the sky, slowly turning the grey, slushy roads white again. He wonders if Pulitzer-finalist Sebastian Stan likes to make snow angels in the backyard too, like Chris used to do.

Putting his phone between his shoulder and his ear, Chris starts to put his things in his overnight bag, and calls an Uber.

It’s almost twilight, by the time the cab come to a stop in front of the house. Chris thanks the driver and steps out, booted feet sinking into the freshly fallen snow. It’s piling up quickly, he notices distantly.

It’s odd, being back here, after everything that’s happened since he moved away, so Chris gives himself a moment to just stand there, in the middle of the deserted street, taking in the sight of house he grew up in.

The house that holds countless memories, many of them good, some of them not so much. His first dog and his first kiss. Scraped knees and snowball fights. Raucous laughter and hissed arguments.

The house looks the same but different.

Chris walks up to the front door, snow crunching under his boots, and rings the doorbell.

***

Chris Evans is on Sebastian’s doorstep.

All blue-eyed, bearded, gloriously muscled, six-foot-something of him.

“Uh,” Chris says, blinking at him in something like surprise before his gaze sweeps up and down Sebastian’s body in a blatant once-over. “Sebastian Stan?”

“Oh wow, you actually came,” Sebastian blurts by way of reply.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought- ‘cause you said-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sebastian interrupts. “I did say that. I just- I guess I wasn’t expecting you to really turn up – or not this soon, at least. But it’s no trouble at all, I live alone so it’s nice to have a visitor. Especially, y’know. You.” Forcing himself to stop talking, Sebastian runs a hand through his messy hair and wishes he’d worn something better suited to meeting one’s celebrity crush. “Sorry,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “Let’s try that again. Hi, I’m Sebastian Stan.”

“Chris Evans.” Chris smiles back warmly as he shakes Sebastian’s extended hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Lovely,” Sebastian repeats, holding Chris’s gaze. There are tiny flecks of green mixed in with the blue of his eyes, and his lashes would put any Maybelline model to shame. It takes Sebastian longer than it should to remember to let go of Chris’s hand, but fortunately, Chris doesn’t seem to be in any rush either. Huh. Sebastian clears his throat. “Would you- would you like to come in?”

“I’d love to, if you’re putting out,” Chris replies. There’s a beat, and then he freezes, eyes widening in horror. “If I’m not putting you out – not- not if you’re- I wasn’t, I didn’t mean- oh my god, Chris, stop talking you meatball,” Chris groans covering his face with a large hand. His next words come out a little muffled. “I am so sorry. Just ignore me. I have a horrible hangover, I promise I’m not usually this much of a disaster.”

Sebastian laughs, equally charmed by Chris’s helpless chattering as he is by the blush coloring his cheeks, just visible above the line of Chris’s well-groomed beard.

“You’re fine, I’m not easily offended,” he assures him, stepping aside to let Chris into the hallway. “I can take a lot.”

Oh.

This time, it’s Sebastian’s turn to wince at his choice of words, but when he tentatively glances back at his visitor to see if he noticed, he stills. The look on Chris’s face instantly makes him forget all about feeling embarrassed.

Still standing by the door, melting snow forming puddles around his feet, Chris is watching him intently. There’s something curious in his gaze, something sharp and searching.

It makes Sebastian’s breath catch in his throat. He swallows, resisting the impulse to avert his gaze, play it off as a joke. Instead, he makes himself stare right back. Lets the tension build, lets it simmer and crackle as it stretches out between them, growing stronger with every second they spend looking at each other in heavy silence.

“That right?” Chris asks finally, his voice a low rumble that settles in Sebastian’s bones like smoldering embers. Chris takes a careful step forward, slowly, giving him every chance to back away.

Sebastian stays where he is.

“Mmm,” he hums, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down lightly, experimentally, on the soft, plump flesh. When Chris’s eyes flick down to his mouth instantly, homing in on it like an eagle on its prey, Sebastian decides to take a chance.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian says huskily, stepping closer under Chris’s dark, watchful gaze. “Why don’t you give me a tour and show me which bedroom used to be yours-” he comes to a halt right in front of Chris, looking up at him through his eyelashes, “and maybe you’ll find out just how much I can take, hm?”

For a moment, Sebastian holds his breath, praying he read this thing right and didn’t accidentally sexually harass a virtual stranger – but then Chris growls and surges forward, and Sebastian knows his gamble is about to pay off.

Big time.

Merry Christmas to me, Sebastian thinks wildly, just before Chris claims his mouth in a searing kiss. After that, he stops thinking altogether.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

#evanstan #rpf #my fic #my writing #chris evans x sebastian stan #3k celebration

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neonun-au · 2 years ago

Note

WARNINGS: lengthy, fic spoilers, death tw??

It has been a whole month, but hello again! I'll get straight to it, OK?

I finished even the new addition to the series, by the way!

I just want to say how cinematic it was to read every installment in your NCT series. Beginning from Yuta — which I greatly wanted to scream about after the announcement of his upcoming movie since it resembles greatly the image I have of him in your story — I was in awe with how I perfectly saw the streets of Tokyo. I am familiar with how their streets look like, for certain, but I am also certain that one misplaced description can throw me off, so for you to describe the alleys and the colors of the night, and how alone Yuta was, how he has to stay away from every fragment of his past — picturesque.

With Sicheng, it was like a psychedelic ride. I do not even know what in the world that means, but that was how I felt about it. The detachment from everything from how he must feel to the random yet fateful presence of Y/N, and how one's concern — whether on a surface level or deep — can pull you out of the limbo of hopelessness and maybe, just maybe, give you one last thought about another try. That's how I felt about it. It was just... it kind of hit a nerve... whew.

And, of course, you already know about my thoughts on Jaehyun's ♡

Johnny's and Jeno's quite scared me, but not in a bad way, of course. With John's, I sort of skipped through the part where it said it was a ghost!au, so when the time looped, I was like, "What the—hello?!" But, truth be told, the idea of a fiance not returning home to me is already a stake through the heart. The imagery that he was at war and dying in it and I was expecting him to come home... man, that's not something you read and want to read about in a fan fiction everyday, but you wrote it so well that the idea of his ghost reenacting his death, and probably having the memory of his partner the last thing he held on to, and Y/N having to receive the news... it gives me endless white vibes, and I am sad again, but, like, artistically sad, y'know?

Jeno's greatly reminded me of Pirates of the Caribbean if I would see it in the dead sailors' viewpoint. The buildup from Jeno believing he may make it till the loneliness gets too much to bear that he must be hearing things, but then, he actually is not is quite saddening. How you used the best terms to describe it, how you portrayed the image of his old man telling him not to succumb to the loneliness... chilling, ma'am. Brava.

Taeyong's reminded me of Love and Monsters (Dylan O'Brien) haha~ but only in the aspect of a dystopian world and being apart from his partner and he's in search for her. I like how you skipped the yada-yada and went straight to how normal it has become for the world to be... that, but creeps in the fear of things going worse than they are, and in comes Taeil. How you portrayed him to be your harmless stranger who is only ever just in need of safety and shelter like the rest of their world, and the regretful desperation he displayed to someone who helped him all because he, too, needed to survive... the note he left... and the scribbling that Taeyong left... damn. You wrote such a raw and empathetic scenario so well, I still recall it well after a month of not reading it anew.

And Renjun's... might be among my favorites. It must be the lack of dialogue yet the colorful portrayal of a bond physically broken by the cycle of life that caught me. You did not even have to divulge what exactly happened, just that his future has gone... you have a knack and a skill for writing about death and the introspection it can incite amidst the topic. I find that remarkable of you. You made a person's grieving process poetic with your words. How you mentioned his partner's body to have been cremated and how he could not have anything of her to hold on to in the physical world, that tugged at my heart for some reason. Maybe it's how you pressed on the idea of things having their end at some point, how raw and factual it is that only memories can last, though even those, too, will fade in time.

What I like about this series is how it felt like a short film of slices of life. The lack of dialogue in some is what captures me — you describe them and convey them well that a dialogue is not quite necessary. You know one of those films, like, with reels, and it's like it just hits you with a wave of nostalgia, truth, possibility, and introspection? That was how it felt, and I may not ever be able to express it well, but you write emotions well that I do not ever think I can find another one in this site that actually expresses themselves well through words. You do not need smut, romance-centric plots to capture an audience, though I strongly feel you need more simply for how well you tell stories. People need to appreciate literature more...

Anyway! That's that! That was pretty long, I apologize, but, as promised, here is my lengthy feedback! ♡ I hope you've been well, Mads. Looking forward to more of your NCT (or just anything of yours, really) stuff ♡ — review anon

!! I also thought the announcement of his movie was WILD when I saw it I was like OH MY GOD !! this is my yuta !! and i am working on a massive prequel/expansion fic for that one so hopefully it lives up to the hype/everything when / if it does end up getting released ! ive never been to tokyo, so its nice to hear that the atmosphere/setting in the fic do sort of reflect it !

ahahaha yeah on topic of the johnny fic....it definitely is not something that people want to read in fanfiction generally. which is why i get that there is little interaction with these fics LOL they're very niche and very....non-fan ficy. most people are here for the fantasy, right? and these...do not fulfill anything in that sense. artistically sad hfdjskafd haha yes yes that is the goal ;)) well sorta

also v happy you liked the jeno one ! it was my favourite before the most recent addition (the renjun fic) and i still have some small soft spot for it. i love horror haha

this is my favourite idea of an apocalypse au tbh !! so many of them are centered around the dramatics of the actual apocalypse, which is fair, but i REALLY like the idea of exploring how the world would be once the dust settles. once it becomes the new normal, y'know? i had considered doing a massive expansion of this one as well and i might still look into it but...i just love the idea of the world building that exists there. something sort of ambient and poignant about it

the renjun one is my absolute favourite as well so i am so happy that you responded well to it. minimal dialogue seems to be something i am rather drawn to. maybe because i am quite an introspective person myself? but idk...i just love writing introspection haha and showing things through description etc etc

ah !! like a collection of short films yes i love that !! different slices of different aspects of life. i also never fully realised until now just how much i write death as a theme in so many fics. how it just....is. i wonder what that says about me lol i like to think i dont write it in an exploitative way tho haha i would hope

i do want to write more larger, romantic fics ! it sort of pushes the boundaries of my writing and my abilities because it isnt really what comes super naturally to me as a writer, but i love doing it and i just love romance as well. hopefully i will be able to dive deeper into some more plot heavy fics sooner than later haha <3

thank you thank you thank you again ! i hope you enjoy the rest of that angst series as it comes out slowly, slowly. and if you read anything else from me in the future ! you know i love to hear about it hahaha

#reviews #review anon #replies #thank you so much again !!!#throwing so many hearts your way #will return to this to re-read and consider hehe

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kookiebunnii · 4 years ago

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lucky in love || min yoongi

→ summary: you didn’t expect to start your day with an arrow to the heart, quite literally, but neither did you expect to meet cupid himself. quickly realizing that you aren’t dramatically falling in love from the effects of cupid’s arrow, the two of you unexpectedly team up to solve this curious dilemma. however, at the end of it all, what if cupid is the one falling in love?

→ pairing: cupid!yoongi x reader

→ genre: roman/greek mythology au, fluff

→ word count: 6.6k

→ warnings: mature language

→ a/n: this is sort of a half-gift to myself and @cinnaminsvga, the author who actually inspired me to write again. i just hit 200 followers, and i guess i also wanted zee to know that her works definitely motivate and inspire others!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Sitting in your armchair, embroidering little white carnations into the hem of the wedding dress in your hands, you truly thought that you couldn’t be any more content. This particular order had recently prompted the idea of “love” into your mind whenever you worked, as your customer had practically beamed with excitement when talking about her fiancée. Although your family and friends seemingly had your relationship status on the forefront of their minds, it wasn’t something you chose to fret about. You’d had your fair share of boyfriends, men you enjoyed spending time with and even one you thought about a “happily ever after” with. But of course, your career and independent personality typically got in the way.

It had led to heartaches and internal turmoil early on in your life, but now you were a freelancer, a fashion designer making clothes from your apartment. It wasn’t the most luxurious life imaginable, but it was the life you wanted. You were able to do what you loved while helping others. Romantic love just wasn’t on this week’s to-do list...orders were.

You set the piece down and slowly rotate your wrists to chase the stiffness away from your joints. Taking a sip of your chamomile tea, you watch as the horizon outside your window lights the buildings aglow with an orange and pink hue. The colors are beautiful, and you’re briefly inspired. Heading to your workbench in the room next to you, you grab your pocket notebook and scribble down the colors you see outside. You always wrote little notes in this particular journal, hoping to use it for your own creative works someday if not for a future customer’s order. Examining the words “pink, orange, yellow blending” in your casual scrawl, you flip to previous pages to reread your past bouts of inspiration.

You sigh, knowing that this wedding dress was your last big order for the month. Perhaps you now have enough time and funds saved up to work on something for yourself next week.

Your discarded cell phone on the couch begins beeping incessantly, so you set your notebook back down and skirt over to check what it’s for. You make a small sound of happiness, remembering that you had ordered Thai food for dinner tonight. Taking off your work apron and hanging it on a hook in your office, you find the warmest coat you own before rushing out the door.

Weather these days is like a finicky child who can’t make up his mind. In the daylight you’d have to pull on a t-shirt and a long skirt to fully appreciate the rare breezes that danced through the open windows. However, after sunset, temperatures could drop quite steeply. You’re reminded of this again when you’re forced to tuck your hands into your pockets and tell yourself to hurry.

The street is lit with soft lamplight and despite the cold and hunger resting in your belly, the artist in you can’t help but appreciate how beautiful this sight is as well. Round circles of yellow going from intense to faded against a midnight blue backdrop fill your thoughts. It’s so distracting that you almost walk past your destination without realizing.

Quickly backpedaling a few steps, you head into Thai Us Together—you must give the owners credit for their pun-tastic name—and greet the familiar worker at the front desk. She engages you in some polite conversation before handing you your usual order and bidding you goodbye.

It’s only when you are a few steps away from the entrance to your apartment complex that you are hit in the chest by an arrow.

You realize this not because you feel any sort of pain from the attack, but because a translucent arrow radiating a pinkish glow is now visibly protruding from your front. Firmly planted above your ribs, you’re momentarily at a loss. Perhaps any normal person would be screaming in terror, but you just stare, wide-eyed, wondering if you were dreaming. Things never got this crazy in your dreams though.

“Why isn’t it working?”

You blink and suddenly there’s a dark-haired, pale-faced man in front of you. He doesn’t look much older than you, as he stands in front of you with his arms crossed. Frowning in discontent, he stares in the direction of your chest unabashedly and you feel that you have the right to be more than a little offended.

“Um, hello? My eyes are up here.”

When his eyes finally find yours, they’re filled with shock with a little bit of fear mixed in. You almost wonder if you’d grown a second head or something, with the way he was staring at you.

“You can see me?” he asks, pointing at himself as you roll your eyes in response.

“Who else is staring at my chest around here? Yes, you.”

The boy starts laughing, his gums showing cutely in response to your curt reply. You can feel your cheeks warming as you wonder whether your statement deserved to be received with this much amusement.

“You’re a funny one,” he finally notes, before a worried expression takes over his features again, “But you’re human aren’t you? You shouldn’t be able to see me.”

You adjust your takeout in your hands before resting a hand on your hip, “Well, I see you very clearly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have pad thai to enjoy and an arrow to the heart to deal with.”

He grabs your arm, and the touch is so palpable that you know now that you’re definitely not dreaming. You turn to meet the stranger’s gaze again, and the curiosity filling his brown eyes is undeniable.

“You see the arrow too?” he whispers in awe, gesturing to the faint but very noticeable projectile still lodged in your front.

Sighing, you say, “Okay at least I’m not hallucinating this then. Look, I need to try and get this thing out and get to my dinner. If you don’t have any suggestions on how to remove arrows that don’t even feel like they’re actually there, then I suggest you head home.”

He follows you through the gate, matching your hurried steps with ease until you finally snap and turn on him. He almost bumps into you as a result of your sudden halt but quickly readjusts himself and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

After a short glaring contest, he gives you a small smile with a glint in his eye, “I know exactly how to get that out. In fact, I was the one who shot it.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Maybe all these years of living alone has finally dulled your warning senses to the point where you were fine letting dangerous strangers into your home. You’d always been too trusting of a person, but you felt too tired and confused to put up much of a fight tonight anyways. You just wanted to enjoy one of your favorite noodle dishes and get rid of whatever black magic was involved in this painless arrow buried inside you. If it meant inviting a random puzzling but handsome individual into your abode, then so be it.

As you dig into your meal, you watch as your guest sips on his glass of water. He had denied your offer of food, but you could at least say you were a polite host. With your stomach now appeased, you take your own gulp of water before launching into an interrogation.

“Who are you?” you ask.

He tilts his head, observing you for what feels like the seventh time that day. Finally, he leans back in his seat in thought. The silence permeates your residence for a good minute before he finally utters, “I’m Cupid, God of desire, attraction, and affection.”

You stop mid-chew to openly gawk at the black-haired male in front of you. This boy, dressed in a large hoodie and ripped jeans, is supposed to be the fat baby featured on Valentine’s Day cards? Maybe you brought a crackhead into your home.

“I know what you’re thinking. You mortals have ruined my image recently and as a result I am no longer receiving the respect I deserve,” he purses his lips before setting his water glass aside and openly observing you again, “But I am in fact Cupid.

“Okay let’s say you are Cupid or whatever and you shot me. Doesn’t this mean I’m supposed to fall in love now or something? I don’t feel anything other than a desire to finish the rest of this delicious pad thai.”

He doesn’t even smile at your attempt at lighthearted humor, instead wrinkling his brow further at your words.

“That is rather curious.”

Fiddling with a stray bean sprout on your plate, you add, “Well, could we start with removing this first?”

He finally gives you an amused grin when you gesture to the faint outline of an arrow above your ribs, which appears to be growing increasingly hard to see as time passes. Maybe you are finally going off the deep end.

“It’ll disappear soon,” and as soon as the words leave his lips, the arrow has faded entirely. He turns slightly, and a quiver suddenly appears on his back. You count 11 arrows before another slowly fills the remaining empty spot to complete the final dozen.

Your jaw is practically on the floor at this display.

“I need to figure out why this is happening,” he muses, resting his chin on his hand and training his unwavering gaze on you once again.

Jeez, you were starting to feel like an exhibit at the zoo.

“Look, as much as I appreciate meeting a god, I have work to do and a deadline to meet. I’m sure this is very fascinating, but frankly I’d rather not fall in love anyways so I’m quite glad this didn’t work,” you stand up to set your cleared dish in the sink before heading for the door to escort him out.

“Why not?” he asks, as if he couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever not want to be in love.

You turn after undoing the lock at your door to find that he still hasn’t budged from his chair. Clearly not on the same page as you are, you saunter over to him and do your best to give him a menacing look, “I’m happy the way I am. Now are you leaving?”

You definitely weren’t usually this rude, but the amalgamation of your anxiety to get back to work and the confusion of trying to understand what was happening to you made for a deadly combo. Today’s events were definitely giving you a short fuse. If this offends him, Cupid sure doesn’t show it, because he just gives you a small tilt of his lips before heading to your kitchen to wash his empty cup.

You watch, mystified, as he sets his cup on the drying rack before washing the plate you had left in the sink earlier. At this point you rush forward, embarrassed, but he simply shakes the excess water off the plate before leaving it next to his discarded cup. You thought Cupid was supposed to be mischievous, and maybe this guy was, but he was definitely going out of his way to be nice to you.

“Thanks” you mumble halfheartedly, suddenly feeling a bit regretful that you were trying your damnedest to shoo him out earlier.

He chuckles, drying his hands on your teacloth hanging nearby before asking, “Can I ask you some questions?”

Deciding that no ill-natured person would go through the trouble of washing your dishes before murdering you, you lead him to your living room where you were previously working on embroidery. The wedding dress is still resting on the arm of the chair you previously occupied, so you briefly excuse yourself to move the large piece back to your workspace.

When you come back, he seems to be running his tongue against the inside of his cheek in thought. It distracts you for a bit until he finally asks, “Are you getting married?”

Sputtering with a bright fuchsia across your cheekbones, you quickly reply, “No! No, it’s an order for a customer. I’m a designer.”

He sighs in relief, “Thank Zeus, I honestly thought I had lost all of my powers including my sense. Maybe it’s just my arrows that are faulty.”

When he notices how you’re looking at him quizzically, he kindly explains, “Usually, getting hit with my arrow means you fall in love with the person I’ve assigned. For some reason that clearly hasn’t happened for you. Besides, you’re definitely not supposed to see me or my arrows unless I will it to happen.”

You frown, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you think. If this dark-haired boy is to be trusted, was there actually something wrong with you? Additionally, who had he chosen for you? Maybe if it was meant to be and all that jazz, you could just have Cupid introduce the two of you and he can be on his way. That’d be much simpler than trying to wrap your head around the idea that Roman Gods existed.

“Who’s the person?”

He smirks, appearing to be amused at your shy remark, “Mortals are simple creatures. It matters more whether your significant other is as good-looking as you imagined than the possibility that something is very wrong with you.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. Besides, you could just wingman me with the guy you picked and then go back to shooting people for fun. You’re acting like the end of the world is coming.”

Lounging on your couch, he grabs one of the decorative pillows next to him and begins playing with the loose strands like an easily entertained cat. You sit down next to him, grabbing the other cushion to hold in your arms for security while he exhales in disappointment.

“It’s not that easy. This isn’t something that’s supposed to happen,” he admits, tossing the pillow aside and training his eyes on you.

“Well, you could always ask one of your fellow gods, right? Isn’t your mom Venus or something? I’m sure she has plenty of experience in the love department,” you suggest, wondering if you were being too gullible by accepting and participating in his fantastical stories.

He scoffs, “If she knew about you, she’d just tell me to kill you.”

“Okay so we won’t be asking her for help under any circumstances. Got it.”

He laughs again, and you can’t help but crack a smile of your own. Maybe in another world, if he just happened to be a random boy you bumped into one day, you’d actually want to be friends with him. But in your reality, he was supposed to be a god. If your lessons in Roman mythology meant anything, humans should probably fear those like him instead of inviting them into their one-bedroom apartments.

“You’re probably one of the more amusing mortals I’ve met recently,” he grins, “Do you still want to know who I chose for you?”

Heart racing, it was as if you could feel your pulse thrumming in anticipation. Wasn’t this what every person wanted? To know who they would end up with, to know who they were supposed to love until their last breath? Even if you were a self-declared non-romantic, the idea was still interesting. Its appeal was still undeniable, even if it wasn’t a priority for you.

But then you hesitated, wondering if it was beneficial for you to even know this. Did you like the idea of this cheeky boy just randomly selecting a guy for you? Maybe free will was just an illusion, but how would you even go about your life if you knew that you were supposed to be with someone—no alternatives? That kind of pressure just didn’t float your boat at all.

“Never mind actually. It’s probably better if you don’t tell me.”

This statement surprises him, because he actually leans forward to rest his palm against your forehead with a concerned expression on his features. Up close, you can see the pretty faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and the small speckles of gold in his irises. No, this boy is definitely not human.

“What happened to Y/N?” he jokes, laughing when you brush his hand away to look at him with a frown.

“Look, it doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Besides, now I can pick who I want to be with without your ministrations being a part of it,” you huff, crossing your arms.

Smirking, you can see the mischievousness lighting up his eyes at your words, “And how will you know that the man you’ve ‘picked’ isn’t just someone else I’ve chosen to hit you through the heart with?”

You don’t respond at his teasing question which causes your guest to lean back once again with satisfaction. If he really was the omnipotent entity he claimed to be, you guess you wouldn’t really know if you liked someone out of your own volition. At least you could now pin the blame of being with some of your past exes as a result of Cupid’s interference and not your lack of good judgment.

“I’m going to have to monitor you for a few days. I’ll head back to Olympus every once in a while, seeing if I can find any answers for this oddity. If anything strange happens, just call for me.”

You pull out your cell on instinct, and he laughs while taking the device and slipping it back into your pocket. Instead, he takes your hands in his and intertwines your fingers together as if you were praying.

“You want me to pray to you and you’ll just show up?” you ask incredulously, trying hard to ignore the way you could feel the blood rushing to your head at his warm touch against the backs of your hands.

He nods, “It’s how it used to be, back when you all believed in us. I’ll be off now. See you tomorrow.”

One second, he’s there and the next he’s not. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, fingers interlocked, you could genuinely convince yourself that you had just had an extremely hyper realistic dream. Unfortunately, the lingering heat of his hold on you remains undeniable.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Enjoying the tart taste spreading across your tongue from your homemade lemon tea, you set your glass down before admiring the semi-finished piece in front of you. You had set the wedding dress onto a mannequin in your studio after completing the final details to better observe the overall look. You need to pull in the waist a bit more and fix the neckline, so you step forward to remove the dress and get to work again.

“It looks nice.”

The sudden words cause you to almost trip over your own feet and you have no choice but to grab your mannequin for balance. Cupid chuckles from behind you, and you glance at him wide-eyed long enough to catch what look like wings folding behind his back before they disappear.

“Hello,” you squeak, surprised at his random entrance after leaving you alone for two days.

“You’re quite talented for someone who designs and makes the pieces herself,” he muses, stepping closer to you to catch the fabric of the lace sleeve in his fingertips.

“It’s nothing really. I’m just a decent option for someone looking for something original and unique, I suppose.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him and the motion sends an entire series of shockwaves through your system. No one had been this close to you in a long time, so maybe you were just reacting because of the unfamiliarity.

Yeah, that’s probably what it was.

Cupid hesitates, as if he had lost his train of thought, before quickly recovering, “Give yourself more credit, love.”

Pulling away from you, he leans back against your workbench with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Shaking the bangs away from his eyes, he says, “Do you feel any different?”

“No. I had half the mind that I just dreamt the whole thing,” you reply, finally letting go of the mannequin and stepping towards your desk to find some thread and a sewing needle.

He hums in thought, watching your movements as he says, “I haven’t had much luck either. I went to Vulcan, asked him if he could look at my arrows. He said they were in good working order but replaced a few of them anyways at my request.”

“Vulcan? Is that Hephaestus’s Roman name?”

“Yes, I wonder why Greek names are more familiar to you. Perhaps schooling is different nowadays,” he comments, watching as you take a seat across from him and begin making your adjustments.

“If it’s any consolation, they do look shinier than before,” you tease, pointing at the quiver appearing on his back.

He gives you an amused chuckle, pulling out one of the arrows to examine it from its point to the sleek feathers at its very end. When it finally disappears from his hands to return to its home on his back, he quips, “Are you sure you’re not a demigod?”

The question catches you off guard for sure, but you decide to play his game anyways, and think back to your parents. Did they ever do anything that seemed…otherworldly? Did they seem like the type of people to run off and have a tryst with some Olympian god or goddess?

Haha, definitely not.

You shake your head, giggling at the possibility since you knew your parents very well. He takes your answer with a nod and continues looking out towards the large window at the scene outside. The sky is a pale blue today with fluffy white clouds gliding by with ease. You were almost done with this order, and you planned to ship it to your customer this weekend. Maybe you’d enjoy a picnic outside to celebrate afterwards.

“Do you…have another name that you use? Calling you Cupid just seems weird. I still can’t get the name to disassociate from the image of a chubby winged baby in my head.”

He takes your question seriously, a trait you notice by the way he’s seemingly lost in thought. You wait patiently though, continuing to work on your methodical stiches as he ponders.

“Yoongi,” he finally says, appearing satisfied.

“Yoongi? That’s an interesting choice,” you reply, feeling the way this new name rolled off your tongue.

“It was the name of a mortal I knew. I quite like it.”

You accept his choice, finishing your alteration on the neckline and deciding to call it a day. You’ll spend the next few days attaching the sequins, which was bound to be an exhausting task. Just as you’re about to set the dress back on your trusty mannequin, the sound of glass breaking causes you to scream.

A creature seemingly out of your worst nightmares crawls through the windowpane, flames of fire spilling from its mouth. You can’t help but cling onto the back of Yoongi’s sweatshirt once he backs up against you in a defensive stance. The monster looks like a lion from the front, but you notice what appears to be a snake lazily dancing back and forth from where its tail ought to be. Oh, and was that the head of a goat sticking out from its back?

You never thought about how you would die, but this sure wasn’t at the top of your list.

“Fuck, why is this here?” Yoongi growls, and the deep sound that resonates from his chest makes you tighten your fingers on him.

“What is it?” you ask, but the way your voice is compressed in fear barely lets the words escape from your lips. It seems to ignore Cupid altogether, the blazing coals it calls eyes refusing to look away from your fearful expression.

He ignores your question, instead sweeping you off your feet and uttering, “Hold on tight” before skirting around the edge of the room with the creature hot on his heels. You don’t need to be told twice, immediately ducking your head into his shoulder, trying your best to ignore the way the beast sounded dangerously close. When you finally dare to open your eyes, Yoongi has ducked through the gaping hole where your window once was with his hand on the back of your head. He looks down at you briefly before jumping off the ledge.

Your scream sticks in your throat, as you feel the pit of your stomach fall alongside your body. A second later however, the two of you are gliding upwards as if flying. The buildings are a blur with how fast you are going, so you opt to just close your eyes and keep a locked grip on your savior. Even though you had no clue where you were being taken, you sure as hell weren’t about to return to your apartment even if it hadn’t turned into a pile of ashes by now.

When Yoongi finally stops, it feels like an eternity has passed, and your head is so dizzy that you’re forced to lean against a tree for support. As you try to keep the contents of your stomach from making an appearance, you make out the blurry form of your new friend pacing back and forth with his hair a mess. He is very clearly stressed, so you shift to grip the side of his pant leg when he paces closer to you.

“We’re fine now,” you mumble, tugging him closer. You hope he sits down so you could lean your head on his shoulder. It was starting to get chilly and you want to get ahold of whatever warmth was currently available.

Perhaps he can read your mind too because he kneels in the grass in front of you and fixes the locks of hair plastered to your clammy skin. He doesn’t seem the least bit grossed out, instead having what looks like worry in those odd eyes of his.

“I can’t believe you’re reassuring me when I’m pretty sure you would’ve died if I weren’t there.”

The words bring you back to reality as you shudder uncontrollably. You definitely would’ve died. That thing looked like it could rip you in two if it truly wanted to, and you weren’t exactly skilled in self-defense. Maybe you were too dumb to realize the danger of the current situation, but you were more concerned by the fact that Yoongi looked deathly afraid.

“Was that something from…your world?” you ask, grateful for the gentle grasp Yoongi had on your wrists. It comforted you knowing that you weren’t alone in this chaos.

“That was a chimera. Our worlds are essentially one and the same, but yes, creatures like that usually don’t just stop by for a house party,” he grunts, shifting so he can sit in front of you with his legs splayed to corner you against the tree.

You still have your legs pulled against your chest, so you lean your cheek against your knees as you regard him intently. He didn’t look anything like a god, and if you saw Yoongi walking on the street you probably wouldn’t have given him a second look. This whole ordeal balanced on the edge of surreal, but you were sure now that with whatever just happened, you were in danger. You wish the arrow worked on you earlier. You would’ve fell in love with some random person but at least you wouldn’t be fearing for your life. Maybe you wouldn’t have met the living embodiment of attraction, but you would’ve been back to normalcy. Isn’t that well worth it?

Struggling to understand why your heart hesitated at the possibility of never meeting Yoongi, you’re barely aware that he is pulling you to your feet until he has an arm wrapped around your waist to support your weak form.

“Can you stand?” he asks, and his fingers feel like they are burning against your side. Even through your sweater, you clearly feel each indent against your skin.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you give him your best attempt at a smile, following him as he walks you further into the forest. Thankfully, he eventually lets you go when he’s assured that you can walk without passing out. His proximity was doing crazy things to your senses, so you are grateful that he let you process your experiences without distraction.

He’s led you to an inconspicuous cave whose entrance is covered by a few hanging willow branches. He brushes these aside before letting you crawl in. The inside is surprisingly dry and you finally take a seat on a smooth, protruding boulder in the corner to stretch your legs out from the trek.

“It’s not a 5-star hotel, but it should do for now. You’ll be safe here until I find out what’s going in,” he says, and in the darkness you can barely make out his form in front of you.

Snapping his fingers, a fire appears in front of you. As you realize that this fire appears to be without a fuel source, you are once again forced to accept that your life is never going to be the same. Hesitantly reaching out to warm your shaking fingers against the heat, you watch as the light of the flickering flames dance across Yoongi’s face. He looks worried and concerned for you, so you can’t help but look away.

Your hands itch for your notebook, but you simply make a mental note to yourself instead: fire and shadows, a golden-eyed boy, warmth.

At this point, he takes off his hoodie and you can’t help the way your eyes immediately dart to the sliver of skin that shows at his waist when his t-shirt rises alongside his movements. When Yoongi finally emerges, a hand running through his locks, you hope that the heat you’re feeling is only from the fire.

He wraps the garment around your shoulders before tying the sleeves around your arms without a word. Taking one last look at you, he lets his touch linger for a second too long against your thigh before he stands to take his leave. This time, you keep your eyes trained on his as he begins to slowly dissipate. You tell yourself that you won’t blink because as long as you’re looking, he can’t leave. Your weary gaze finally betrays you, and when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Turns out you wouldn’t have to worry about food, because every couple of hours, you’d magically find some food appearing by the fire Yoongi had made for you. Your phone had long since died, so you weren’t even sure what day it was. Using the appearance of the regular meals to gage the passing of time, you hoped that Cupid would come back for you soon. Your customer’s order would be due soon anyways. At this, you couldn’t help but giggle when you realized how much your commitments meant to you-- even if you were on the verge of getting eaten by a lion hybrid.

It appears that Yoongi had been more observant that you gave him credit for. Every meal, he has only given you pad thai with the ingredients you ordered the night you met him. It was cute how he went with something he knew you liked, likely worried that he could choose something you were allergic to or disliked. He did alternate between cool lemon tea in the mornings and warm chamomile tea in the evenings, but you are sure you won’t be ordering thai food for a long time after you get out of here.

Just as you finish the last of your tea while pondering actually praying to him to get him to show up, Yoongi appears before you. Without a second thought, you scramble up to give him a hug. It seems that even for a god, he doesn’t expect this. Your tackle causes him to briefly lose his balance.

“Easy there,” he laughs, his deep voice mixing beautifully with his laughter as it echoes against his chest.

“Sorry,” you fumble, pulling away quickly and wondering if mortals were allowed to be hugging Roman Gods.

“Have you been alright?” he asks, ruffling your hair fondly with a smile.

You hum in agreement, relishing the way his fingers felt tugging against your locks, “Might need to take a break from pad thai for a while though.”

Chuckling, he extinguishes the fire with a wave of his hand before tugging you out of the cave. The sudden sunlight causes you cover your eyes, gripping his sleeve instead to guide you as you walk. Instead, he carries you in his arms once again before flying off to god-knows-where. At this point, you simply submit in his hold, as you trust him enough as the only person who knew better than you did at the moment.

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he has brought you to your apartment, and even more pleased to find that your window has been returned to its original state. In fact, everything inside remains perfectly undisturbed.

“How’d we get in if the window is fixed?” you ask, pressing your fingertips against the glass to ensure that it was indeed repaired.

“I stopped by before the chimera appeared without having to bust your windows open, if you remember,” he teases, pulling the curtains aside to let in some light.

“Fair enough.”

You immediately head inside to ensure that the wedding dress was still in your office. You let a relieved sigh escape your lips when you notice it resting happily on your mannequin in the corner, looking as perfect as before.

“Y/N, we need to talk about something,” Yoongi says, pulling out a chair and straddling it as he watches you work with the bag of sequins you prepared earlier for this project.

“What’s up?” you ask, already getting back to work by sewing each individual sparkle into the layers of fabric.

“The chimera from earlier, it was sent by someone.”

His words cause your hand to falter, but you remind yourself that you have to make up for lost time, so you continue working furiously.

“Who have I angered?” you ask, trying to keep the concern out of your tone.

Cupid sighs, and when he finally replies, you’re forced to drop the dress entirely.

“Venus? So, she found out about me?” you bite your lip to stop it from trembling under this revelation.

He grips your hands in his own now that yours are no longer busy with working. The emotions swirling in his gaze allows the weird feelings to return to your heart once again. When he makes a request of you, you can’t help but take notice of the way he’s practically begging.

“Y/N, please let me protect you. I can take you somewhere she’ll never find you. We can be together, and you’ll be safe for the rest of your life. I promise.”

Of course, the offer is tempting. You aren’t sure if it’s the confusing feelings you’re beginning to develop for him or if he’s working some sort of love magic on you, but you actually consider his proposition for a good second or two. But eventually, the dazzle of the pearl white dress on your workbench breaks you out of your reverie. Did you want to spend the rest of your life in hiding? Would you still be able to do what you loved? Would you still be able to see your family and friends?

“I can’t,” you reply, giving him a sad smile and a small squeeze with your hands. You can’t accept the hurt on his face, so you go back to work so you can focus on the shiny beads on the waistline of the dress instead.

“I can’t let you die.”

His voice sounds so broken, so lost, so defeated that you almost didn’t recognize its owner. Brushing aside the wetness suddenly flowing across your cheeks as a result of his words and your own fear, you try your best not to let your tears fall onto your customer’s order.

“Y/N please. Look at me?” Yoongi begs, and when you risk a look at him, the tear clinging to edge of his waterline finally rolls down his cheek.

When you realize you’re kissing him, the first thought that manages to form is that his lips are so soft. It’s like you pressed your mouth against a carefree cloud, or some bright pink cotton candy based on the gentle sweetness that slowly begins spreading throughout your body. His cheeks are damp, and you can’t help but whisper “please, don’t cry” against his lips. His laugh mixes with a sob, as he tightens his grip on your waist.

You pull back, and for a second you forget that the man before you is an all-powerful god. As he sits in front of you, brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, he is simply a soft-hearted boy crying over imagining a tomorrow without you. You wonder momentarily if it were possible for him to fall in love, because you were already beginning to feel the rush of falling.

“Am I crazy for liking you?” he chuckles, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer were written there, “I make others fall in love for the shits and giggles, and now I’m the butt of the joke.”

“How did I attract a god?” you muse, pinching his cheeks for your own personal enjoyment.

Yoongi falls back into his thoughts again, and you once again wait patiently for him to form his words. You were willing to wait, because you knew that when he finally spoke, it meant that he had truly considered each and every word he uttered.

“You’re witty. You love to crack jokes, especially when the situation turns awkward. It’s endearing, so much so that I just want to kiss the satisfied grin off your mouth. You’re hardworking and talented, placing the needs of others before your own. You commit yourself to your job, creating art as if it’s second nature. Even after your life gets hit with a whole shitstorm, you work on a wedding dress someone else ordered and tell me not to cry.”

A laugh escapes you as a desperate attempt to cover the fact that you’re certain you are as red as a cherry tomato and that you have the sudden urge to kiss Yoongi again.

The two of you decide to enjoy the simple happiness you feel with your newfound feelings for as long as you can without discussing Venus again. Once again, you find yourself working on the silky fabric of a bride-to-be’s wedding dress in your armchair in the living room. Except this time, Cupid has his arms wrapped around you as you sit in his lap. The two of you watch the sunset together after you decide to take a break, and he massages your wrists for you.

“I don’t want to hide, Yoongi.”

He makes a small noise acknowledging your words, seemingly more invested in nuzzling the exposed skin at the crook of your neck. You pinch his thigh to get his attention before continuing, “I can’t live like that. I’d rather die doing what I loved and enjoying every moment than being locked away somewhere—even if I were with you. Does that make sense?”

“Of course, my stubborn Y/N. I’ll do my best to keep you safe from her nevertheless.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shift in your seat so you can finally look at your brown-haired boy with surprise. You almost regret this decision, because the amount of adoration pouring from the personification of affection himself is almost too much for your mortal self to handle.

“I’m your Y/N now?”

He chuckles, smoothing out your furrowed brow with the tips of his fingers, each stroke leaving a lingering trail of warmth against your skin.

“Are you forgetting the vow I just gave you? A god just promised to protect you, mortal. Have some decorum.”

You frown, feeling too foolishly emboldened to be stopped now.

“Yeah well the witty, hardworking, and talented mortal just asked you a question,” you say smartly, playing with the strands of hair at the edge of his ear.

The golden stars in Yoongi’s eyes seem to shine brighter than before as he says, “For as long as you’ll have me. I’ll love you.”

♡

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years ago

Note

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY???#fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years ago

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America’s Sweetheart 1

HELLO !!

This was an idea I had that I couldn’t walk away from, more chapters to come :)

YFN YLN catches the eye of a Dr. Spencer Reid. The only thing is... he has no idea she’s America’s Sweetheart, Oscar winning actress, and a Hollywood phenomenon. Truly a tinsel town tale of love, crime, and gossip.

MASTERLIST

I was on a beach. Just some random beach. The waves lapped against the sand, and no one was there but me.

A storm rolled over the ocean, sheets of rain beating down on me, giant waves crashing against my body. I tried to run, but my feet were sinking into the sand, and saltwater stung my eyes.

Just as I was about to drown on the water beating down on me, I wake up in my own bed in Washington DC.

In the few weeks after I had moved to DC, I would give the city a 7 out of 10. It was a good random place to hide from the flashiness of Hollywood, but it was honestly overrated. That was until I met Dr. Spencer Reid.

I kept my eyes low as I ordered my coffee, pulling my baseball cap down over my face even though it wasn’t very sunny outside. As I went to pay, the barista shook her head.

“Someone’s already paid for your drink, ma’am.” She pointed to a tall man slouched over a book in a booth, seemingly not paying very much attention to anything else in the coffee shop.

“Um, thank you anyway,” I said as she handed me my coffee. My feet carried me hesitantly towards the man in the booth, studying him as I approached.

“Um, excuse me?” The man looked up, and my breath almost caught in my throat. Dark brown eyes peered up at me, and soft brown curls made him look extremely youthful. I cleared my throat, trying not to get distracted by his beautiful high cheekbones. This man was gorgeous even with the elevated standards Hollywood had given me. He could be a movie star if he wanted to. “Thanks... for the coffee.”

He looked confused for a moment, then he smiled. “Oh, of course. Um... anything for a lovely lady.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, waiting for him to ask for a picture. But he didn’t. He just peered at me, trying to read my face as I tried to read his.

“What’s your name?” I asked, surprising even myself.

“Spencer. Just... Spencer. What’s yours?”

He was being vague, and I wasn’t completely sure he knew who I was, even though that sounded completely vain. “YFN. Just YFN...” I waited for him to put the pieces together, but he didn’t. Instead he just nodded with a small smile on his face.

“Well YFN, I hope to see you getting coffee around here more often.”

A strange smile came to my face. “Yeah, I think I will be.” I took a napkin lying on the booth, quickly scribbling my personal number down and tucking it into Spencer’s jacket pocket flirtatiously. “Well… call anytime, I guess.”

The BAU

Spencer didn’t realize leaving his phone unattended at the BAU was such a risky decision. The team had noticed Spencer’s upbeat mood and buzzing phone the past few weeks. One day, when Spencer left his phone on his desk while he got coffee, JJ glanced over to see who was making the good doctor so happy.

JJ gasped when she saw the contact name come up on Spencer’s phone, and immediately ran to Garcia’s office. “Penelope!”

“Ah! What- what do you want?” She spun towards JJ in her chair.

“I think... I think Spencer is going out with YFN YLN.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped. “Like... the YFN YLN? The most renowned young actress in Hollywood right now? The Oscar winner?”

“That’s the one.”

Garcia looked around her office, not totally sure on what to do. “Well, we have to tell him right? Reid doesn’t keep up with the modern day Hollywood stuff, there’s no way he knows who she is.”

JJ nodded. “We need to tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Morgan asked, walking in the room with a stack of files.

JJ and Garcia looked to each other then back at Morgan. “Spence’s dating YFN YLN.”

Morgan dropped the files on the floor in shock. “Reid? As in pretty boy? Dr. Spencer Reid dating Oscar winner YFN YLN?”

The women nodded, and Morgan just stood there, the files on the floor completely forgotten.

Later that day, the team was lounging around the office, Spencer smiling at a text he received on his phone. “Hey, Spence?” JJ asked from across the desks.

“Hmhmm?” Spencer said, not looking up from his phone.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“This girl I met at a coffee shop… she’s amazing. Beautiful, kind, intelligent...”

JJ took a deep breath. “YFN YLN?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “How did you know that?”

“She’s… famous. Like really really famous. Movie star, award winner, America’s sweetheart famous.” JJ broke the news softly, not wanting to raise a big scene.

Spencer just looked more confused then he was before.

Reader’s POV

We had met for coffee about five times in the last two weeks, and I learned there was much more to Spencer than a lanky handsome exterior. He was definitely a genius, a doctor three times over, and worked for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. I thought I was impressive, but he takes the cake.

But today something was wrong with Spencer. I could see it in the way he fidgeted with his hands more than usual or how he couldn’t seem to meet my eyes for more than two seconds. “Alright, Spencer, what’s wrong?”

He was also a minor technophobe, which probably explained how he didn’t recognize me.

Spencer seemed startled by my question. “Well, my friend… she saw your name come up on my phone yesterday and told me that you were some kind of celebrity. You told me you worked in the film industry, but the way my friend told it… you’re super famous, like a household name famous.”

My heart sank and I subconsciously pulled my baseball cap lower on my head. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Is that why you always wear a baseball cap? So you won’t be recognized as easily?” He asked, and I nodded softly while keeping my eyes down on my coffee.

Spencer looked downtrodden. “Then why are you interested in me?”

“Are... are you kidding?” I asked incredulously. Spencer shook his head, and I almost laughed. “I’m interested in you because you don’t have this preconceived opinion about me. You don’t want anything from me. We can just be normal people, I can be a normal person. Do you know how rare that is in my line of work?”

“That sounds... lonely. And stressful, not knowing who to trust.”

An image of my dream came back to me, my feet sinking into the sand and drowning in waves of seawater. “It is. But... I think I can trust you.”

He still looked confused, but a glimmer of a smile appeared in his eyes. “Why are you in DC?”

I rolled my eyes. “To disappear a little while from all the cameras and flashiness of Hollywood. I’m staying in a town house until I have to fly out to wherever my next project is, and who knows when that’s going to be.”

Spencer looked completely mesmerized. “Tell me more… about Hollywood, movies, award shows, everything. I want to know everything.” His hands touched the tips of my fingers, and he grinned ear to ear. Leave it to Dr. Spencer Reid to want to learn about the ins and outs of shallow Hollywood life.

I laughed, thinking maybe once in the four years I’ve worked in Hollywood, someone was truly honest with me.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Photoshoot across town, meeting with my agent, talking over movie roles I may or may not get.

My mind kept coming back to Spencer. Spencer with his wild curls and thoughtful brown eyes and astonishing brain. My heart fluttered and I smiled just thinking about him, the impressive doctor with a heart of gold and mind like no other’s.

My mind and body were completely spent from the long day, and I practically sleepwalked up the steps to my house. I was so tired, I almost missed the gift waiting for me. Flowers were left for me on the front porch, blood red roses with a note tucked inside of the petals.

I wonder if all of your fame and awards will protect you from a knife between the shoulder blades, Miss America's Sweetheart?

Part 2 !!

TAG LIST : @squirrellover1967 @yomama-umbridge @tiktokslut @sknnymnne @pinkdiamond1016 @vixengustin88 @lexshead @briannareneea985 @thatsonezesty13 @april-14-blog @baby-i-am-fireproof @mollyann14 @andiebeaword @oldspirit @rottenearly @cyndagoaway @peculiarinsomniac @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @mjloveskids666 @aberrant-annie @stardream14 @radkryptonitepeanut @sercyan @deni-gonzalez @matthewreid @emilouu

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid series #criminal minds fic

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revasserium · 4 years ago

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運命なんて

commission for @mika-ze; thank you so much for commissioning darling, i hope you like it u__u

things like ‘fate’ hirugami sachirou; 3,016 words of fluffy fluff fluff

one. he remembers it like recalling a dream just dreamt, the image so clear a moment ago and yet fading by the second -- he watches as if through a running stream, the water crystalline in the way it distorts the memory. he doesn’t think so much as he knows that the two of you will be friends, or perhaps more, for a very long time.

he’s all of six years old.

“what’s your cat’s name?”

you look up with eyes the color of molten chocolate, the spark in them just as sweet, just as shy and curious and perhaps, a little apprehensive. your glasses are a bit too big for your face, but you push them up with a finger as you frown up at him, the sketchpad splayed in your lap, charcoal dust smeared across your hands.

“tiger.”

“huh?”

“her name is tiger.”

he blinks.

“why?” he asks.

you shrug, glancing over at the large tabby cat in a walking vest, tethered to a long leash, currently pawing her slow way around the base of a rather ginormous tree. at least, compared to the both of you -- most things are ginormous compared to the both of you.

you frown even harder, and he plops down on the bench next to you; the dog park is filled with, well, dogs -- and one leashed cat. yours.

“because that’s what she’ll grow up to be.”

hirugami squints at you, unsure if he should be the one to break it to you that your cat, large and orange though she is, will not grow up to be a tiger.

he decides that he’ll leave that daunting task to someone else, so he just shrugs and looks back at his own puppy, yipping as he chases a stray tennis ball down the length of the park. neither of you mentions the large sign by the door that says only dogs allowed.

two. middle school is a mess, as middle school is wont to be. but hirugami thinks that if he does what he’s supposed to, practices all the right things, studies hard enough, that everything will be fine. everything should go just the way it was meant to go all along.

he’s almost right. almost.

“everyone say hi to mika, she’s transferring in as of today.”

hirugami blinks, because he needs to (basic bodily function -- he learned that in science the other day, something called biology; he’ll have to ask his parents about it when he gets home), but also because he’s surprised.

it’s you.

“mika,” he says to himself, frowning slightly to himself as he familiarizes himself with the shape of your name in his mouth -- he thinks it’s a nice name. cute. sweet. with a little kick.

he spares a moment wondering why he’d never asked for your name all those times he saw you at the dog park with your cat, tiger. then he spares moment musing upon the fact that he knew your cat’s name before yours but you hadn’t seemed to mind.

“hirugami-kun? do you mind showing mika-chan around school during break today?”

he gets to his feet, his back straight as straight can be, shoulders back, chin up -- posture perfect. he bows and says yes, sensei, of course. when he gets back up, it’s the find you standing by his desk, staring at him with your eyes (your glasses are still a bit big for your face; he spares a moment to wonder if they can grow with you before ridding himself of so ridiculous a sentiment).

“didn’t know your name was... that,” you say, sitting down in the desk next to his.

he looks over, slightly distracted by the charms on your backpack (are those even allowed in school?).

“didn’t know your name was that either,” he says back, because he’s feeling a little childish today. one of the very few days in a week, if he may say so himself (he says so).

break comes as it always comes, and he pushes out of his seat, waiting for you to follow. instead, you give him a brief bow before scurrying off out the door, faster than he can stop you.

“hey -- !” he chases after you, because the teacher had put you under his care, at least for the duration of break, and he’s not about to slack on such a show of trust. you’re surprisingly fast, he thinks as he follows you up four flights of stairs, at the end of which he finds a door clearly labeled do not enter, swinging. he pants as he pushes through it with cautious hands.

“hello? are you up here?”

you turn on him with a scowl on your face.

“shh!”

he’s about to frown at you, about to tell you that it’s not okay to just race off like that and it’s also not okay to go through doors labeled do not enter but he’s halted in his tracks.

hirugami blinks.

clutched in your arms is a very, very large tiger.

no, not an actual tiger -- your cat tiger. but he does have to admit that tiger is starting to look very much like an actual tiger. a small one perhaps, but for a cat, she is very large indeed. her vest looks just as fitted as it did before, and he wonders if things really can grow with the people (or cats) who wear them.

“wh -- you --” for the first time in a very long while, he finds himself at a loss for words.

nothing he’s ever read or practiced or learned or studied or accidentally overheard his parents talking about has prepared him for this.

after a moment, you grin, swinging tiger slightly in your arms. she meows, licking lazily at her own mouth, seemingly unfazed by the way you’re holding her, her legs hanging straight down, almost skimming the ground of the rooftop the both of you are currently on.

the wind picks up and you walk towards him.

“wanna pet her?”

“uh...” hirugami stares as you bring your cat towards him, holding her out with both arms. tiger regards him with an languid sort of look before yawning.

he doesn’t have time to answer before you’re dumping tiger into his arms, almost knocking him off balance because wow he didn’t know a cat could be quite so heavy.

“she’s cute, right?” you grin as you pat tiger’s head now that she’s firmly curled against hirugami’s chest, purring loudly. he gulps, looking down at the large cat. and he can admit that with her round face and her orange fur and her big, green eyes, she could indeed be considered cute. so, he nods.

you laugh, a delighted sort of noise, which startles him, because he’d never really heard you laugh before either.

(at the dog park, he mostly sits next to you while u scribble or sketch, him occasionally peering over and pointing at a random blob with a that’s nice and you answering with a grunt of something that sounds vaguely like thanks.)

“i think she likes you,” you say, scritching tiger behind an ear. tiger mewls, apparently pleased and closes her eyes, folding herself into hirugami’s arms.

he thinks it’s weird, the feeling of feeling a cat’s purr rumble through him. like a tiny little furry motor running, running, running. it makes him shiver and he finds himself smiling.

he forgets to tell you that it’s against the rules to bring pets to school.

three. you go to a game of his, and you don’t really cheer, because you don’t really like places with a lot of people, but you go. and he thinks that it means a lot that you did. you find him after with your smile (that he’s now familiar with) and your glasses (which are still a bit too big) and a milk flavored popsicle (which he’s actually never had before but always wanted to try).

“here,” you say.

“thanks,” he says.

he takes it, studies it for a second before taking a bite. it’s cold against his teeth, but it feels good sliding down his throat; he’s still sweating from the match after all, but they won, so it’s all good.

“my mom’s making okonomiyaki for dinner tonight, wanna come?” you ask.

he takes another bite of icecream.

“didn’t she make that last week?” he asks, frowning when he realizes that it’s a terrible question because he was there last week, and he remembers. and it was delicious.

you nod anyway, because you don’t seem to mind stupid questions.

“yep! and you had a lot, so she’s asking if you wanna eat some more.”

he looks down at the now half-finished popsicle.

“sure, if your family doesn’t mind.”

you laugh, a sound he’s also now familiar with. a sound that he thinks he likes.

“of course not -- we wouldn’t invite you if they did.”

he nods. right. stupid question. he seems to do that a lot with you -- he wonders why. but he finds that he doesn’t mind. because after all, you don’t mind.

and he likes --

“sachirou!”

he turns to find his sister smirking at him. he tries not to scowl, not because he doesn’t like her, but he really doesn’t like her boyfriend -- and she’s always got a boyfriend.

“oh, is this the famous mika-chan? hi there, i’m shokou, sacchi’s older sister,” she grins, offering you a hand.

hirugami feels a wave of heat wash into his cheeks and he’s not entirely sure why. probably because she’d just called him sacchi, a nickname that he really doesn’t like because one of shokou’s boyfriends gave it to him and it stuck. shokou thinks its funny. hirugami, decidedly, does not.

“hi. yes, i’m mika. nice to meet you. are you the one with the boyfriends?” you ask.

hirugami’s eyes go wide as he whirls back around to look at you.

you’re blinking up at his sister like it’s a perfectly normal question to ask someone upon first meeting them (it’s not, but he probably won’t tell you that later either).

shokou laughs, ruffling hirugami’s hair. he shakes it out after, huffing slightly.

“yep, that’s me. so he’s told you about me, hm?”

you shrug, apparently losing interest in her, “just in passing. anyway, i was inviting him over for dinner. mom’s making okonomiyaki and he had a lot last time, so she’s inviting him over for more.”

“yeah, i’ll come,” he says, blurts out, more like, his cheeks feeling hotter than ever. he refuses to look at his sister as he grabs his sports bag and heaves it over his torso.

“i won’t be home too late,” he says, waving over his shoulder as he brushes by shokou, his eyes trained somewhere on the floor in front of him. to your credit, you fling yourself into a hurried bow before dashing off to catch up to hirugami. he’s a fast walker when he wants to be, and right now, apparently, he wants to be.

four. high school is an even more of a mess, as it is wont to be. but he finds that it’s not so bad with you.

he still goes to the dog park with you, and tiger. although tiger seems to be getting on in years. she doesn’t move so nearly as much as she used to, and the hairs around her face are turning a distinctly whitish-grayish color.

“that’s nice,” he says, pointing at your sketchbook. your drawing has gotten much better, and you’re thinking of going to design school. he thinks you should; he doesn’t tell you that it makes him feel a little queasy to know you won’t be in the same school as him anymore.

you smile up at him (some time ago, that smile had started to look like home).

“thanks.” you reach up to tuck a hair behind your ear, your glasses no longer too big for your face because he’d insisted on getting you a new pair last year for your birthday.

you go back to your sketch of a boy -- they never have faces, the people you draw. and when once, he’d asked who they are, you’d gone a strange shade of red and shook your head --

“no one -- th-they’re no one! just... just random people.”

he’d wanted to ask why they looked like him sometimes, but he figures that artists, you know? (he doesn’t know, really. but he pretends he does because it makes you happy.)

he doesn’t know how it became like this, with you -- comfortable, he thinks. and in all honesty, it’d never been uncomfortable, so he supposes that by that logic, it’s always been comfortable. but still, it’s a thing more than mere comfort -- a thing that’s like... settling into a warm bath, or taking the tape from his fingers after a whole day’s practice (sometimes, you come to his practices, and you still don’t cheer, but he thinks that it means a lot you’re there).

“i think tiger’s gonna die soon.”

he blinks, because he needs to.

he blinks again, because he’s surprised you’d said it so plainly, without even looking up from your sketch.

he doesn’t know what to say (and that’s okay, he’s learned), so he keeps quiet instead.

your fingers pause; you turn to look at him, there’s something in your expression he doesn’t quite recognize. maybe... fear, or perhaps sadness of a kind that he’s never come into contact with. a kind of sadness that sinks its claws into your very soul and squeezes till every drop of blood is gone -- you purse your lips and swallow.

you look back down at your sketchbook, but you make no move to start sketching again.

hirugami hesitates for a moment before putting his arm around you. it’s the first time he’s done anything like this, but it feels like the right time to do it, his body tells him, before his mind can quite catch up --

you lean into him, and you sniffle. he pats your arm before sliding his large palm along your back.

“i’m just... scared,” you say, still not looking up.

“what’s there to be scared of? death isn’t that scary, y’know -- its supposed to be just like falling asleep,” he says, looking down at the top of your head. he can smell your shampoo -- sweet, vanilla. you used to use green apple, and then you used lemon-orange for a while. but he likes the vanilla too. he likes it because it’s you.

“no -- it’s not that...” you shake your head.

he waits.

“i -- i’m scared cause... tiger’s always loved me, y’know? we grew up together... and she’s always been there for me. when i was happy, when i was sad... and...” you hiccup and he pats you on the back, “and if she dies then... who’s gonna love me that much?”

hirugami lets out a small laugh, and finally, finally, you look up at him.

he meets your watery eyes with a steady gaze of his own.

he smiles.

“i will.”

you blink up at him. probably because you need to. but also probably (he’s a actually very, very sure) because you’re surprised.

he cocks his head, “objections?”

you blink again.

he hums happily as he tucks you into his side again, a large, floaty feeling filling his chest (he thinks he knows what it is, but he’s in no hurry to give it a name).

“good. now let’s go get some dim-sum. the place you like is doing a promotion.”

he gets up, reaching down to take your hand. you let him. and he thinks that that must mean something.

(it does.)

five. “i’m going out!”

shokou peers at him from over her sunday morning coffee.

“going to see your girlfriend again?” she teases.

hirugami hasn’t told her yet, because there isn’t much to tell, really.

so he smiles, and instead of his usual answer of not answering at all, he gives his head a firm nod.

“yep.”

he steps into his shoes as his sister nearly chokes in the kitchen, the sounds of her coughing echoing down the hall.

“wait -- what? you actually asked her out?”

he turns and fixes shokou with a smug look, “what do you mean? i hang out with her every sunday.”

shokou sputters, and the sight of it brings him more joy than it rightly should.

“y-yeah, but you never admitted that she was your girlfriend before!”

he cocks his head at her.

“what difference does it make? not everyone feels the need to announce their relationships like you do.”

shokou scowls even as he sends her a cheery wave over his shoulder, opening the door and stepping out into the mid-september chill.

you’re waiting for him outside the gate, like you always are. you open your hand and he takes it, the pair of you setting off down the street.

you peer up at him and grin.

“did you tell shokou?”

“not in so many words.”

you laugh, nudging him slightly.

he laughs too, swinging your hands between you.

the pair of you pause outside the gates to the dog park, looking over at the ginormous tree under which the pair of you first met, under which tiger is now buried, safe and sound, with her favorite vest and leash and your solemn promise to love her forever.

and hirugami’s equally solemn promise to love you forever (for her, but for himself too. mostly, he thinks, for himself).

after a moment, you set off towards the dim-sum place.

“i think i’m gonna become a vet,” he says.

you nod, “good. just make sure to pick a school close to mine, okay?”

hirugami laughs again, letting the sound breeze through him like the autumn wind (the best wind, you say).

“i don’t like the thought of not going to school close to you,” you say.

he nods, firmly. certainly.

“yep. me too.”

#haikyuucreations #haikyuu!!#hirugami sachirou #hirugami x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hirugami sachiro x reader #hirugami sachiro #hirugami x you #haicuties #hirugami #floofy floof floof #commissions #woof! that w as fun!!!!#i actually rly liked writing hirugami's character - idk how close i am to his actual character a la furudate sensei's imaginings #but i tried! and !!! pls ! notice ! the way ! he treats u! vs how ! he treats! everyone else! (his sister)#the boi is WHIPPED From dAY NUMERO UNO I TELL YOU #and mika <3333 thank u for #commissioning me!!! this is my first official commissioned work ! and im very happy with it #so i hope you like it too #pls tell me if u have thoughts!!! feedback is important for any writer <3 #and i told u the glasses are a nice thing :D i love thINGS that can REOCCUR like REOCCURING THEMES and YES #anyway i feel like its a very hirugami thing to do to just be like 'yah i'll love u what of it' LMFAO #and then give his sister shit :)#anyways yay!!!!!! first commission done!#oh and for those of u wondering the pronunciation for the title is #unmei nante #idk i thought it was a very... hirugami thing. i could be wrong haha but it sounds nice

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ee-furoido · 4 years ago

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So... Jade x Raven DUO magic when?

Ah! I’ve been waiting to write this for a while, and since @raven-at-the-writing-desk mentioned getting a similar ask, I decided to continue her story.

Raven’s Part 1 is here. My story is Part 2!

...But Only One to Let Go

The courtyard was packed with loitering students; some studying, others lounging on the grass. It was a place of solace for most students, to not have to think about the worries of their classes and tests. But not for much longer.

Jade was sitting on a bench in the center of the courtyard, a notebook and pencil in hand. He was sketching the flora of the courtyard, although his eyes were not on the page. While his hand moved effortlessly across the paper, his gaze lingered on the students. Every once in a while, he would scribble a note to the side of the latest thing he had drawn.

Perhaps another interesting note to tuck away for future use. No wonder there was a wide berth around his bench.

“J-Jade Leech!”

An almost eerie silence fell over the courtyard as the loud chirp rang out. A petite girl with long, black pigtails stomped up to the Octavinelle vice dorm leader. Jade’s gaze shifted to her, placing his pencil between the pages of his book and closing it shut. His narrowed eyes took in her flustered cheeks and clenched fists. A piece of black paper seemed to be crumpled up in her hand.

“Oya, oya, Miss Raven.” He said, pulling his features into a polite smile. The same conciliatory mask he was so used to slipping effortlessly over his more piercing and inquisitorial stares.

Even within the courtyard's silence, the other students felt a rush of relief. His attention had turned to her. But even then, they watched with bated breath.

“How may I be of assistance today? I was not expecting you to come to me of your own accord like this.”

Jade shifted to one side of the bench and patted the seat next to him. An otherwise kind gesture, but that would entail getting even closer to him. Raven shook her head. She was fine where she was, shouting at him from 10 feet away.

“I assume you received the grade from our midterm exam as well.” Raven huffed, waving the scrunched up paper in her hands before crossing her arms. “I can’t say I’m pleased, and I’m quite certain you’re not either.”

Jade’s smile slipped for only a moment before he gathered it back up. He cocked his head to the side, his thin-lipped smile curling up even further. “Who knows?”

“Wha- what does that mean?!” Raven sputtered. “You’re saying you’re fine with the C that Professor Crewel gave us!? I for one will not stand for it.”

She pointed at him with a steady finger. “We’re going to retake this test and if that means I have to force you to….. I- I will!”

With a light chuckle, Jade stood up, brushing eraser debris from his uniform as he did so. In only two steps, he was looming over the young Crowley, a wide grin showing off his dagger-like teeth. “Fufu, perhaps you should calm down, Miss Raven. If you continue on your little rampage, you may bite your tongue.”

“Calm d-”

Although she was already flustered, Raven’s face turned a brighter shade of red, one mixed with both anger and embarrassment. She clenched her teeth, trying to stop herself from striking his chest with her fists. ‘Can’t let him win.’

Jade let out another chuckle, amused by Raven’s resistance.

“Since you require a partner for this portion of the exam,” he said, curling his knuckles under his chin, “I suppose I cannot say no. Ah, I sincerely cannot leave a helpless creature in need.”

Much like the start of their most recent partnership, Jade extended a hand towards the bird, a literal offering of his help. “I’m sure you’ll be able to return the favor someday. Shall we adjourn to the training field?”

In a moment of deja vu, Raven’s eyes focused on his black gloves. How snugly it fit around his fingers, how cool it was to the touch when she had grasped it last. She wanted to forget her frustrations and take it once more.

With a deep intake of breath, Raven gave a pout, crossing her arms once more. She would hold her ground, not get lulled in by this siren. “... Yes, we shall. But as equals.” She spat his own words from the examination back at him. “There won’t be any favors or pay for this.”

Jade chuckled as Raven turned on her heel and promptly headed towards the gymnasium.

“As you wish.” He breathed to himself as he followed her.

The courtyard quickly filled with the buzzing of muted conversation after they left. The witnesses left behind whispered to each other about the scene that had played out. It wasn’t often that Jade Leech himself was at the center of potential gossip, after all.

Raven found herself waiting at the training field alone.

“I’ll only be a moment late.” Jade had said. “There is something I must retrieve first.”

A moment had turned into 20 minutes, then almost an hour. Raven did her best to hold back tears of frustration. She felt foolish, thinking he would be there without question, to care for his grade just as much as she did.

Of course he wiggled out of this when he could, the slippery little eel. ‘I did not shake on it, so he didn’t deem it necessary to actually show up.’ Raven’s thoughts steamed as she kicked her sportswear sneakers. ‘That uncultured, underhanded, untruthful…. slimy-’

“My apologies for the tardiness,” Jade’s voice rang out. While she had been simmering in her own thoughts, he had arrived. And he seemed to carry a large silver orb about the size of a basketball. He had also taken the time to change into his athletic uniform, his usually buttoned up attire replaced by a long sleeve shirt and a half-way zipped up tracksuit.

Raven tore her eyes away from his exposed collarbone to the thing in his hands.

“Where have you been and… wh-what’s that?”

The mer-eel chuckled, tapping a few buttons on the orb before responding. The silver surface started to flicker blue and Raven could hear a light whirr as it powered up.

“A new artifact from the students of Ignihyde.” He explained. “Ever since their successful projection mapping during Halloween, there's been talks on other possible uses of the technology.”

“It came to my attention about a month ago that a few of them were working on what they called a Battle Application Droid. I had no need of it then, so I merely put that piece of information to the side at the time.”

“It took a bit of convincing to retrieve this from the Ignihyde students who have been completing the prototype, but in the end they knew what was good for them, fufu.” Jade’s chuckle was remorseless, only filled with amusement.

Raven almost thought to ask who the poor mob was that had found himself under Jade’s thumb, but thought better of it. Jade would most likely not give a straight answer, anyway.

“... So how does it work, then?”

“Essentially, we should be able to engage in a mock battle with holographic enemies.” He turns his attention back to the ball and inputs more on the keypad. “Ignihyde has access to the cameras of the school since they help maintain security. They also manage the servers where we upload all the videos from Dorm Leader battles and exams. Based on their algorithms, it should give us a randomized battle.”

Satisfied with the scenario he set into the orb, Jade hit the largest button on the side and rolled it out into the field.

“W-wait! Why’d you just-”

“We may need to stand back, Miss Raven.”

Jade threw an arm out in front of the bird and pulled her back a few feet. His hand clutched at his magical pen in his dominant hand. Seeing him prepare, Raven grasped her magical quill as tight as she could.

There was nothing else she could do at this point. No time to prepare, no time to back out.

The ball beeped a countdown in the middle of the field before erupting in a wave of blue light, sending a bright blue shock wave through the partners.

“Kh-” Raven flinched with grit teeth, using Jade's arm to shield her eyes from the light. She gripped onto his sleeve until it dimmed, and only then did she chance a look at their surroundings.

Her beak dropped open. They were in the coliseum.

'Well, no, of course we aren't.' There was a light blue haze over what should be the stone slabs of the arena, as well as moments of static. But otherwise, it was an almost flawless holographic replica of the coliseum.

Ignihyde’s projection mapping had grown, no longer needing physical objects to display images. 3D holographic projection had arrived.

“Be prepared.”

Jade’s voice seemed so far away to Raven in that moment, but it snapped her back to reality. Facing them from across the field were two faceless students, magical pens raised.

“... Th-they cannot actually hit us, right?” Raven’s voice twittered from behind Jade’s arm.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Jade said. “If you would like to stay standing there and test that, Miss Raven, then be my guest. However, I would prefer to come out of this unscathed and am unwilling to experiment, fufufu.”

“Wha- You-”

A light chortle before Jade quickly pushed Raven away to the side as he jumped in the opposite direction. Right where they had been standing only a second prior, a pillar of blue fire erupted. The flames crackled as it burned up the sweet digital oxygen.

Despite the close call, neither felt the heat. The simulation really was only an artificial emulation, after all.

“Seems like this should be quite easy to defeat.” Jade’s eyes glinted, the Ignihyde blue of the digital landscape dancing off of his olive and gold irises. “Especially knowing it cannot harm us.”

“We need to think like it can harm us, Jade…!” Raven squawked out from where she had tumbled onto the ground. “Otherwise, what is the purpose of this training?”

“I do believe it is for you to get a better grade, is it not?”

“YOU-”

Raven caught herself. There she went, falling into his rhythm, ready to bite back at the merest provocation. Professor Crewel’s words rang in her ear again.

“Your coordination could use much improvement. You were yapping at one another for almost the entirety of the battle.”

He wasn’t wrong then, and even now she could see them falling into the same pattern. Her fingers gripped her quill even tighter. What was it about him that caused her to act this way?

…

“Miss Raven!”

She had pulled her attention away from the scenario for only a second, but that was all it took for the simulated opponents to take advantage. A large ball of water was hurtling towards her—

—and was intercepted by a column of real leaves and wind, slamming down to the ground like a wall, just in time for the digital water to hit it and disintegrate.

“Fascinating.” Jade muttered, racing over to where Raven was pushing herself off of the ground. “For our physical magic to be able to intercept the holograms… Fufufu, this is much more technologically advanced than I expected.”

He glanced down at the smaller student, flashing a mocking grin. “Eyes open, my dear. I won’t always be there to save you.”

He turned his attention back towards the virtual opponents.

“Now is the time for our counter-attack.”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to find a rhythm, to defeat wave after wave of artificial enemies. Although smart and biting quips were still thrown out from time to time, their wordless communication was their impenetrable defense—whenever one was targeted by an enemy, the other was on hand to assist. While one prepared their stronger physical attacks, the other parried incoming attacks.

Seamless unity.

The sun had started to set on Night Raven College, and the two were almost out of breath. Six waves of faceless blue students they had fought, and it was taking a toll on both of them. Their uniforms were a mess with dirt and grass stains, the crystals of their pens were both getting cloudy.

This was the last round dictated by the orb.

This last enemy was relentless, its speed faster than the others. Almost before either could react, it would send fireball after fireball downrange, keeping both Raven and Jade on their toes.

“Tch!” Jade growled, jumping out of the way of yet another blue ball of flame. “Relentless…”

He paused to catch his breath, gripping his pen. “Miss Raven, we need to settle this quickly, we should—”

“Watch out!” Raven shouted, pulling Jade towards her and onto the ground. A blue swirl of leaves from the other AI barely grazed the top of their heads.

A moment as they realize the position they were in. Jade had fallen, propped up on his hands, hovering over her. Half a heartbeat passed—

Jade rolled onto his back, panting and holding back a chuckle. Raven shook her head, trying to will away her fluster. Now was not the time to be thinking of how close that was.

“Eyes open, I won’t always be there to save you.” She shot at him, the same words he had mocked her with before.

Jade sat up and eyed the two opponents on the other side of the field, warily. From the looks of it, the two mobs were preparing a powerful spell, a duo…

He pushed himself off of the ground and reached his left hand out for Raven. With another light and exhausted laugh, he spoke.

“I’m pleased to know that you have my back when I require it, Miss Raven.”

A warm sensation emanated from Jade’s hand, one that Raven could not describe offhand. But it compelled her to take his offered hand this time, a static of magic crackling as the two of them touch. Another wave of blush scrawled across her cheeks. She gripped the quill in her other hand.

“Sh-shut up, Jade, I’m only doing this because I have to.” Her temperamental defense mechanism rising once more.

Jade would have let another laugh escape him, but as the two of them connected by both touch and words, he could feel a second wind surge through him. In almost an instant, his exhaustion melted away.

His heartbeat grew louder every second, and he could sense the magic radiating from his core to his pen.

His gaze fell on the artificial students.

‘Give no quarter.’

An immense pillar of water crashed down where the opponents had stood. Despite their distance, the water from the attack splashed all the way back to the two weary students. Jade gritted his teeth with determination.

The second strike materialized three large pillars of water dropping the AI to the ground, their magic concentration lost.

Jade’s eyes glittered with malicious glee as he swung his magical pen a third time, covering the other half of the field in a destructive wave of water. The digital enemies flickered under the pressure and disappeared—

—Quickly followed by the rest of the projection. The simulation was over.

“Well,” Jade said, wiping the sweat and dirt on his brow with his equally dirty sleeve. “I suppose this is a day well practiced.”

Raven nodded, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding during his ultimate attack. “Yes…”

…

“Jade…?”

“Yes, Miss Raven?”

“... Y-you can let go of my hand now.”

“Fufufu, of course, as you wish.”

Jade untangled his fingers from hers and gave a light, polite bow. He made his way to the center of the field to pick up the prototype B.A.D., wiping off the battle residue with his shirt.

Raven stared off after him, proud of the difference their day of practice made.

They would be ready for the makeup exam. No doubt about it.

#Jeido responds #Jeido writes #Mob ask #raven-at-the-writing-desk #Twisted Wonderland #twst #Jade Leech #twst Jade

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