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smilesrobotlover · 2 months ago

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Whumptober day 31- asking for help

And that’s the end of whumptober 🥺🥺 I just wanna take a moment to say thank you for those who read my fics this month and for listening to my many rambles haha. I appreciate the comments and reblogs on these fics and I appreciate the support! It was a challenge for sure but I’m so proud of completing yet another year of whumptober, and having it be a coherent story! After last year when a story formed at the end, I knew I wanted to do it again but with the whole month, and it was a challenge but I could feel myself improve in the middle of the month! Thanks again and I hope y’all enjoy this softer day 😊

~~~~

Leon stared blankly at the thicket in front of him, his back turned to the group as he sat away from them on a log. He was picking at his hands, his mind blank as he heard soft chatter behind him, the chatter of his friends. The only relief he had from everything was knowing that despite the puppeteer’s trick, Leon had tricked him as well.

“He has my son,” Leon had explained to Rusl while hugging him by the river, his voice as soft as it's ever been as he said it directly in his ear. “He wants me to kill you for him and I don’t know what to do. He’s watching me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered back to Leon, instantly understanding the situation, and he left to explain it to the others. They devised a plan to fake their deaths, even going as far as to burn their clothes after Leon had “killed” them to make it seem more real. The men had executed their plan perfectly, explaining it to Leon through a crumpled piece of parchment Rusl handed to him when he returned. It was difficult to read without the puppeteer knowing, but Leon was able to do so, and he followed through with the plan.

The puppeteer tried to trick him into killing his friends, but he was unsuccessful, and it gave Leon some peace of mind.

Though his friends were just… too good at acting. Even though he knew he was pretending to kill them, the very idea of actually doing it was too much to bear. He couldn’t ever hurt them, no matter how annoyed he got from them, or how furious he got, he could never hurt them of his own free will. Leon’s breath hitched as he rubbed his hand, the phantom pains from the healed bones shooting through his arm, and the bitter taste of a red potion lingered in his mouth.

“Hey.”

Leon turned to see Rusl holding out a cup to him, a soft smile on his face.

“Some tea to help calm the nerves,” he explained, and Leon took the cup, giving Rusl a grateful nod. Before he could turn back around, however, Rusl stopped him, gesturing to the rest of the group. “Come join us, will you?”

Leon was reluctant, but nodded, knowing that he'd been sulking for long enough. He owed the men an explanation and an apology for everything. His friends watched him as he sat down with Rusl by his side, and he looked down at the cup of tea, avoiding their gazes. They were all wearing different clothes after burning their old ones, save for a few articles of clothing that were sentimental to the men. They looked different—they looked stronger. Leon sighed, rubbing the rim of the cup as they continued to stare, as if waiting for him to speak up.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he finally said, “I’m sorry for everything I have caused and… for any stress that may have come from this.”

“All is well Leon,” Talon said, the men all muttering in agreement. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it was my fault,” Leon pushed, “I fought the monster on my own instead of getting you all to help me and I got myself captured and—“

“Hey, it’s ok, it all worked out in the end,” Talon continued, but Leon shook his head.

“But I risked your lives! You all could’ve died if I hadn’t been so careless!”

“But we didn’t,” Rusl said firmly, “you still made sure we had a chance for survival despite the risks!”

“Yeah!” Benji jumped in, “how else were we supposed to come up with a plan without you telling Rusl?”

Leon looked down, still feeling guilty over everything. “It’s my job to protect you all.”

“You put too much on your shoulders for us, Leon,” Kass said, and Rusl nodded.

“It’s all of our jobs to protect each other. We’re a team for that reason.”

Leon sighed and looked down, nodding slightly. “I know… but—“ he sighed again, resting his face on his hands. He was so tired.

“It’s ok, Leon,” Rusl pressed.

“Yes, if I was out in your situation, I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Ammon jumped in. “You acted very wisely despite all that was given to you.”

Leon shook his head that was still resting in his hands. “I still could’ve done better.”

The men grew silent this time, the sound being his heavy breathing as he tried to get himself under control.

“Well, I guess there were things you could’ve done better,” Linebeck finally spoke up, and Leon peeked through his hands to look at him. His arms were crossed as he stared at him, a firm look on his face. “But the point is that we survived. You survived and so did your kid. So it’s time we stop thinking about what we could’ve done and focus on what we do next. Ok?”

Leon blinked, shocked into silence, but he slowly nodded his head. Linebeck was right, there was no reason to dwell on the past. In the end, everything turned out fine despite the emotional turmoil it caused him—it was better than it ending up with everyone dead after all. But…

“I j-just need a moment,” he stammered, shame apparent on his face, but he knew he had to be open with them. “I don’t think I can go on like th-this, I’m sorry.”

Linebeck’s expression softened and he nodded. “Of course. We don’t need to move on yet. We can just… be here in the now.”

The rest of the men agreed, and Leon looked down as the tears started to form in his eyes. Goddesses, he’s been crying so much lately….

“I just… thought I finally had him,” Leon whimpered, “I thought I had him in my arms but it was just a fake. I almost went home without him!”

“The puppeteer is a sick man,” Rusl commented, rubbing Leon’s back in small circles, which calmed him. “My guess is that it was his plan from the start, but he needed the real one to get you to believe him.”

“At least he’s ok,” Kass said, “he’s with the Links, right? I’m sure he’s safe and sound now.”

“Yeah, thank the spirits.”

Leon nodded. He was eternally grateful that his son was at least alive and safe from the puppeteer. But he still hoped that he’d be able to finally reunite with him—he hoped that they could be led to the rest of the Links. But they were back to searching for clues, running in circles in a desperate attempt to find them while nearly dying in the process.

“Hey,” Ammon started, rubbing his beard, “since the Links saved Leon’s son, then surely they’d be… somewhat closeby, right?”

“We don’t know when they came, is the problem,” Benji said, “they could be long gone by now.”

“But we’re closer than we’ve ever been before,” Ammon continued. “They must be somewhere in these woods, right?”

Leon blinked, his breathing evening out as he thought about it. They were closer than they’ve ever been before; even if the Links arrived way before he had, they definitely were still in these woods. Maybe there was hope…

“Well, we can go searching tomorrow,” Rusl commented, looking up at the golden sky. “I think it’s getting too late.”

Rusl glanced down at Leon who was sitting up now, his eyes puffy and red. Leon glanced back up at him and he nodded.

“I agree. We can search tomorrow and hopefully find their trail,” he said, feeling a bit more energized with the sliver of hope in finding his son. The men all nodded, smiles on their faces as he stopped moping slightly, but Leon glanced around and frowned, looking down at the ground once again. “I—I just want you all to know that… I never want to harm any of you. That’s why I’m so… disturbed right now—that and my son—but… you all were so… decisive and…I—thank you.” Leon let out a sigh, his eyes closed as he nodded his head. “Thank you. For helping me despite the risk. I-I’m glad to have met all of you.”

“Aw, Leon.” Taon got up from where he was sitting and walked up to the man, his hand resting on Leon’s shoulder. “You need a hug, buddy?”

Leon was hesitant, but he honestly needed one, so he nodded with an embarrassed look on his face. Talon chuckled and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him close so Leon could lean on him. He instantly melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around Talon and clinging onto him as if his life depended on it. There was shuffling behind him, and he felt Rusl lean on him, joining in on the hug.

“Oh I need to get in on this action!” Benji exclaimed, ramming into Talon.

“Oh—I guess we’re hugging now,” Ammon muttered as Kass led him to the hug, and he reluctantly stood there with Kass wrapping his wings around everyone.

“Uh, I’m gonna stand over there,” Linebeck started, but Rusl grabbed him and forced him back to the group hug, which he begrudgingly joined. “There there Leon,” he muttered, patting his head, which made Leon chuckle slightly. It felt nice to laugh after the past few days, and it truthfully felt nice to be held. He was still tired and distressed, but the weight felt lifted slightly by those around him, his chest felt looser, and he felt warm. As long as he could rely on these men, he knew that they’d all survive, that they’d be victorious.

As long as they stuck together, they were going to be fine.

#ignore how there’s hardly any ‘asking for help’#whumptober #whumptober 2024 #smiles writes #strangers across eras #kind of bittersweet to me #a more hopeful end compared to last year haha #this is gonna be canon to the sae story btw #last year isn’t #but ye #once again thanks so much <3 I loved writing these guys

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

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A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,990

Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,

A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.

Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!

He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.

This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.

His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.

He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.

However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.

Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.

Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.

“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.

“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.

“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”

Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.

Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.

Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.

Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.

With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.

So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.

Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.

“Fuck.”

You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.

��Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.

You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.

Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.

The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.

You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.

Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.

There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.

You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.

In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.

Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.

You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.

Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.

You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.

She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.

The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.

As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.

Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.

You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.

With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.

Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.

It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.

Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.

The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.

“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.

“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.

“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.

“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.

“Precisely.” He agrees.

He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.

“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.

What’s going on?!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.

He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.

“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.

“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.

He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.

For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.

“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.

“Just tell me, David.”

“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”

“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.

You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.

Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.

“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”

“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.

How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!

“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.

“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.

You don’t disagree.

“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”

“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.

“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.

“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”

Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.

“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.

“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.

“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.

“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.

This is what you’d been dreading?

“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?

“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”

David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.

“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.

He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.

He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.

“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”

“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.

“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.

“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”

“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.

“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”

“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.

“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.

The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.

“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”

David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.

“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.

“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.

“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”

You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”

How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.

“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”

“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.

“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”

Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.

For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.

“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.

“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.

“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.

“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”

“Loads of them.” David promises.

New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.

It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.

His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.

You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...

Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.

You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.

“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.

He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.

“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.

“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.

You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.

You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.

Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.

It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.

When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.

Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.

The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.

There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.

Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.

He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.

You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.

“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”

You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.

“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.

“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”

“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”

“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”

“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.

“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

“He could just be too trusting.”

“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”

Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.

“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.

Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.

Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.

Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?

You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.

You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.

“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.

His voice is so deep.

Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.

He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.

You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.

His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.

“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.

“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.

“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”

His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.

“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”

“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”

Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.

“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”

When he turns back to you, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.

“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”

“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”

You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”

“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.

“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”

Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.

“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”

“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”

You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.

You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?

“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”

Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.

“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”

“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.

“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”

“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.

You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.

“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”

He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.

“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”

Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”

You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.

The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.

“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.

“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”

You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.

He’d trap you there, not letting you move.

“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”

As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.

You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.

You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.

For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.

“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”

“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.

“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”

There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.

“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.

“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.

You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.

“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”

“Ouch.” Thor says.

“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.

“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”

Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.

“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.

Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.

“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.

He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.

The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.

Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.

You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.

Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.

With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.

David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.

“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.

“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.

There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”

This can’t be happening.

“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.

“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”

“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”

“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”

“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.

As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.

#thor x reader #king!thor x reader #royal au #arranged marriage au #thor odinson x reader #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfiction #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt01

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kingsuckjin · 5 years ago

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About me:

I'm Quinn, he/him I'm in my twenties and I’m married. I really like bts and writing so this is just me combining my two favorite things. My favorite color is pink and I'm mostly a JinKook stan but I love all seven of the boys so much. I'm pansexual, an ENFJ, gryffindor and a☀️ Sagittarius, ⬆️ Scorpio, 🌙 Capricorn. I'm basically just a sweet, hardworking, understanding, leader with a bunch of chaotic wild smashed in.

Groups and biases:

Bts- Jin, Jungkook, yoongi

Txt- yeonjun, beomgyu, huening Kai

Skz- hyunjin, Han, seungmin

Bp- lisa, rosé

FAQ:

•why didn't you reply to my comment on your fic?

I only typically reply from a week to a month after I put out a fic. Don't get me wrong, I still see your comment or reblog, I still read it, I still love you for giving me feedback and your thoughts on it, but there's so so so many sometimes. I'll usually write down what you liked about it and use my gathered feedback to keep in mind for future things I write. If I don't reply feel free to send me an ask with commentary for any fic do its right there in my face. If I came out with a fic recently and you commented or rebloged with some kind words and I didn't reply, I am so so so sorry, I'm not ignoring you and chances are I didn't mean to not reply. It's just hard sometimes to keep track of everything and I hope you forgive me.

• When will you post an update to *insert fic name*?

I don't know. It just depends on my mental state, how I'm feeling and whatever else I have going on. I'm one of those writers who isn’t really fond of being asked about updates over and over. There's a lot of y’all and it can just become too much. I understand you get excited, and I appreciate that, but instead of asking, maybe you could just send me an ask and let me know you're excited and help fuel my writing willpower. I promise to give you updates and warnings before I post stuff. You can search for updates on my blog using the updates tag

• What kind of stuff don't you write?

I don't write non consensual stuff or under age stuff. Dub con may be discussed in my fics but it will never be written out or detailed. Even if it is mentioned there will DEFINITELY be warnings at the top of my fic. I like to put warnings about any little thing that could be triggering to my followers, I would never want to hurt anyone.

• Your stance on yandere?

Stalking is wrong, obsession is not cool, murder is wrong, toxic relationships are bad, abuse of any kind is absolutely wrong, manipulation is wrong, threatening is wrong and I don't condone any of it. It doesn't matter how much the person loves you, it doesn't matter how hot they are, if they do any of those things its wrong and they're mentally unstable and it's not cute or fun. That being said, I write a lot of yandere stuff but I'm not a yandere exclusive blog. Just because I write yandere doesn't mean I condone it, it doesn't mean think it's okay to do to someone. I write fiction, and in my stories I like to give the bad guys what they deserve in the end. I write it because it's thrilling to write and read and I understand it may not be your cup of tea or it might be triggering to you, and I completely understand that. My in my works will always be yandere warnings if applicable.

• Are your requests open?/ how long until you post my request?

They're always open. It's hard to say when or if I'll post it, it just depends on how much I like it, it could be a day or a month. It never hurts to throw me your idea though if you want to see me write it.

• Why don't you answer dms often?

I'm a very awkward person and that plays a role in it. Also I'm a busy guy sometimes and I take breaks from tumblr sometimes too. I promise I'll always answer as soon as I can 🖤

• Do you have a tag list for *insert fic name*?/can I be added to the tag list for *fic name*?

I don't have a tag list for anything and I don't do them. They're just a big headache for me and I've had bad experiences with them.

• Do you ever receive hateful/very inappropriate asks?

I do and I thought it would be a thing I should touch on and explain what I'm okay and not okay with getting. For the inappropriate asks "Please marry me" or silly little sweet things or even just casual flirting like that are okay and cute and I'll totally marry you, but blatantly sexually harassing me in my asks and telling me weird things you want to do to me in graphic detail is really messed up. I hate that I even have to touch on that or say that it's happened to me and other writers. As for hate asks, it's pathetic and there's really no point end sending them because I won't be posting them, talking about them and they don't hurt me. If you send hateful anons you're a coward, a bully and need to do something better with your free time. Spread love and positivity, not disgusting hate.

• “I ship you with _____”

Please don’t do that. Please don’t ship me with anyone else on here. I surprisingly get this a lot too. Don’t ship me, some of these people are my friends, some of these people I don’t know and some don’t like me. it makes me uncomfortable. Even if you think it might be clear that I’m in some sort of relationship on any level with someone, don’t ship us.

• Can I copy/translate/post/use your fics anywhere? Even if I credit you?

Please don't do that, I'll be pretty pissed, so no you can't. All of my fics and ideas are my own and they belong to me and I've worked hard making them. You don't have my permission to do it and I will never give permission to do that no matter what.

• Is it okay to message you and ask you to reblog/review/rec my fic?

This is a tough one. I got messages like this a lot and I felt like it was a little rude and hurtful. I used to be okay with it until I realized that most of them that sent me this didn't really want to be my friend, they didn't really like my writing, they just wanted a shout out. Plus I only reblog fics I'm passionate about and really truly enjoy and I don't want to fake that, I just want to share what I like with you in hopes you like it too. I will however I’d love to help you if you're struggling to write a fic, need ideas, help, or a beta reader!

#kingsuckjin about me #kingsuckjin #kingsuckjin faq #faq page

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justkpopjokes · 7 years ago

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Vampire!Mingyu Part 3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Ft. Mingyu death

For: @sunnysidewrites @justsomekpopstuff @kkwonsoonyoung @cipheress-to-k-pop @xeniatan @aesthedick-minmin

A/N: Ohmygod why did this take so long Tagging people who commented/reblogged w/words on the other parts, or people who are just hyped so that they see this!

kind of rushed at the end but I don’t think I can take another part hhhh

That morning, when all the vampires were asleep, you woke Mingyu who was on the couch in the guest bedroom

He could’ve slept with you but he still doesn’t feel right touching you

Istg boi there was already a make-out session tho??

You both snuck out to the gate at the edge of the front garden

But you stop when you heard footsteps and someone clearing their throat

It’s Prince Jun and a posse of purebloods

Jun couldn’t let you leave

He just couldn’t

The second you stepped off the grounds, Mingyu could teleport you anywhere

And he needed you to stay

But as he advanced forward, Gyu pulled you back through the gate

Seconds after hearing “STOP!” you were someplace else

And you were holding Mingyu’s hand :)

He let go bc he was still… iffy about touching you

But you just grabbed his hand again and dragged him out of the alley you were in

Turns out, you were right where you needed to be:

You: “Target!”

Gyu: “Yes you’re a target, I just said that!”

You: “No, Target. It’s a store”

Gyu: “Store?”

You: “We can buy food in there. Do you have any money?”

Gyu: “Buy—?”

Cue you pulling him into Target

If you were going to have a vampire staying with you, you needed to stock up on stuff

How about pizza?

You went over to the freezer section

When suddenly Mingyu stopped in his tracks to stare at everything

“Huh? Something wrong, Gyu?”

His gaze kind of faltered at the nickname, but he still looked at you in disbelief

“These things are… frozen… how do you eat it?”

“Um… when were you bitten?”

“When I was a young child. Why?”

Explains why he doesn’t know much about human stuff

“…Nevermind. You heat the food up”

Gyu: “So… you’d heat that up?”

You: “What, frozen pizza? Yeah.”

Gyu: “Frozen…what”

You: “Pizza? Bread with like cheese and meat and tomato sauce—”

Gyu: *hugs freezer*

You:

Gyu:

You:

Gyu:

Gyu: “…pizza”

People were staring so you pulled him off the freezer

But aw

He likes pizza

So yes you bought a ton of pizza but also veggies bc he needed to be a healthy boi (stay away from the garlic tho)

And after some quick shopping—

Nah we know he’d stop at everything interesting; it took a while

So after a while of shopping

You brought him to your home to relax with some pizza

Ok but cuRIOUS VAMP GYU

WATCHING THE MICROWAVE INTENSELY WITH WIDE EYES

Meanwhile, you were working on what happened when you were gone

You weren’t gone long enough for anyone to worry, and luckily for you, it was the weekend, so you didn’t miss work

Mingyu sat next to you on the couch and you asked him about the other vampires

“So basically… they… want to extend the bloodline. The more human the blood, the more they fit in. The end goal is to be able to blend in with humans while still retaining vampire traits.”

But as Mingyu told you more, you sensed the lie in his voice

You didn’t say anything for now

Ok there’s more plot to this buT VAMPIRE GYU GETTING INTRODUCED TO HUMAN TRADITIONS

AND HUMAN FOOD

AND PIZZA

He just happily munched away at all your cooking

Learned a thing or two

He’s nice company

And he started to warm up to you!!!

That night, he was about to fall asleep staring at the washing machine from the couch when you pulled him up

Cue whiny Gyu wanting to stay on the sofa

You dragged him to your bed and he plops down immediately

You lay down next to him and his arms instinctively wrapped around your body

I’m soft

The next day, you decided to bring Mingyu somewhere to have some fun

Park? Yes.

First, we gotta deal with his clothes

Yeah um no one wears a cape and frilly shirt to a park

Unless it’s Halloween

Which fun fact in this au it’s banned to dress up as a vampire bc of dangers of real vampires

So you gave him some clothes you bought at Target: some sweatpants and a t-shirt

While he was changing in your room, he called you in to ask about something

You assumed it’s about what socks are or smth lmao

But then you walk in and this boi is shiRTLESS and staring at the closet

1st reaction: oHmYGOd his chest is so wide wtf

2nd reaction: okAY PLS PUT ON A SHIRT NOW

But you noticed he was staring at your scarf on the closet door

“What is that?“

“Scarf. For your neck when it’s cold”

“You should wear it. It’s cold outside”

So he tugged the scarf off of the door and pulled it around your neck snugly

“There. You’ll be warm now”

“I don’t think I need this, Gyu”

“Why not?”

“I have you”

At first he’s like wut

And then

Ohhhh ~hugs~

But he also noticed something else…

Your pendant was lightly glowing again

He didn’t say anything.

He finally put on a shirt and a jacket

And you walked to the park!

Gyu at the park man

He saw a dog and—

Wait where’d Mingyu go

2 seconds later he was 10 feet away petting the dog

And he was like “Y/N? Can we get a dog?” while that dog was licking his face like there was no tomorrow

Vampire + puppy = SOFT GYU

You just sighed and laughed at this puppy magnet

You went back home tiredly and looked up dog shelters

Over the next few weeks, you spend your days and nights with Gyu, learning about him and watching movies together whenever you weren’t at work

It was peaceful and you got along well despite him being a fanged creature LOL

Y’all even found some alternatives to blood that kept him healthy!

Tho he still had to drink some animal blood for the first few days which creeped you out a little

One night, Gyu was munching on chips when you confronted him about his honesty about the other vampires

He looked down before sighing and putting the chip bag down

Finally, he told you the truth

“They won’t kill you.”

“Why’d you lie?”

He stays silent.

“Mingyu—”

“The pureblood… your mate… would be your husband. Your love. They would love you. And I… I…”

“You what? Why do you care?!”

You’re just angry now

“I just ran away with you! I could’ve helped them. Not all vampires are bad, and I should get to help! Mingyu why did you take me away—”

“I don’t want you to love someone else! I love you, okay?!?! I want… to be with you. I could never be your soulmate though… I’m not pureblood. I have no chance, but I thought… if you never knew the truth…I’d still have one.”

You fall silent

And think.

Just think and stare at Mingyu

“How could you—how could you be that selfish?” you asked whilst trying not to cry

“My entire life I was treated like an outcast, but when I met you, I finally felt... wanted." It was getting really hard to keep from crying, so you only listen as Mingyu finished speaking

"It was a mistake. I regret it. I’m sorry.”

As you tried to calm down, Mingyu stood up and held out his hand

“If you want to help so badly… I’ll bring you back. But I’m a traitor now, I’ll have to go into hiding. You won’t see me again, Y/N.”

You just nodded, trying to hold back tears

You both have already been through a lot together in the short time you’ve known each other including some intimate things

You slowly grew close to Mingyu

And now he was saying he won’t ever see you again

But you stood up and take his hand

Seconds later, you were back at the gate

Jun was waiting with other purebloods

You reluctantly let go of Mingyu’s hand and gave him one last hug

He just looked into your eyes and smiled

“Remember I love you”

The moment you let go, he was gone

You couldn’t help but choke back tears

You left the garden and went with Jun, who wanted to talk to you

Not any of the other heirs, just you

You went into a room with him alone and had tea while you talked

Jun brought up your little outburst trying to protect Mingyu, and then him taking you away

He appreciated your decision to come back to help and led you back to the rose garden, where the 4 remaining heirs were waiting

Some were kind of upset you left but nevertheless were glad to have you back

So for the next few hours, purebloods from all over the world would take turns standing in the middle of the garden with you all

If one section of coloured roses stopped glowing, that heir would have found their match

Eventually, it was just you left

Everyone went through, and yet no one made the roses stop glowing

Soon the only pureblood who hadn’t tried was Jun

You were kind of scared...

It was going to be him

He was the only one left

It was why he couldn’t let you leave

You looked down to your white roses and wished Mingyu was there with you

The only guy here you were ever really close to

The only guy you really wanted to be your match

Well shoot, time to accept your fate

Then, after a few shouts and gasps, you saw the roses suddenly stop glowing

You quickly looked up, ready to lock eyes with Jun

Jun wasn’t standing next to you

Then you turned around

Mingyu’s hand was inches from your shoulder

He had stepped into the center with you

He was standing there, stunned

All you did was cup his face with your hands and give him a kiss

“You came back! But why?! You said—”

“I thought about what you said, ‘not all vampires are bad.’ Maybe it meant I wasn’t bad, and I had a chance to at least apologize and not be an outcast. I came back to see you—”

Cue Gyu getting interrupted with another kiss

So.

Turns out the non-pureblood vampire is your soulmate

Who would’ve thought?

Well I mean

The make-out session was a dead giveaway

Speaking of make-out sessions…

Since Mingyu wasn’t a pureblood, your role wasn’t important anymore

Jun gave you permission to let Mingyu go home with you

So the make-out session may have resumed at your place 😉

But most importantly…

One night, Mingyu was home learning to cook ramen

When you came home from work

“Babe? You’re late, I got worried—”

He turned around to find you holding a smol puppy that is desperately trying to leap out of your arms and run over to Mingyu

Gyu accepts the kisses from both you and his new puppy-child

YOU GUYS KNOW I AM 100% READY TO WRITE DOMESTIC LIFE WITH VAMPIRE!GYU IF SOMEONE REQUESTS

But until then

This life you had now…

Started all because you were stupid enough to go into a dark alley and get attacked

And now you were raising a puppy with your attacker

Who would’ve thought?

The make-out session was a dead giveaway

“I am never leaving you again”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu #jkj fics #.txt

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h-styles-babes · 7 years ago

Text

No Control | Chapter Thirty-Four

Summary:

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

THIRTY-FOUR

When we enter the kitchen, Trev is standing in front of Harry’s coffee maker, pouting at it, a glass of water clutched in his hands.

“You alright, mate?” Harry asks.

Trev turns to look over his shoulder at us, his eyes red rimmed and squinty, probably from the splitting headache I’m sure he has this morning.

“Your coffee maker is too fancy,” he huffs gruffly. “I just want a cup of coffee.” His voice is whiney and I stifle a laugh as I go in search of some painkillers for him.

“Lemme help,” Harry offers, patient as ever with a grown man acting like an upset child in his kitchen.

I leave to Harry’s restroom to see if there’s any medicine in there. When I come back successful, a whole pot of coffee is brewing on the counter, and Harry’s got a kettle going for tea on the stove. While Harry’s usually a coffee drinker in the morning, he’s got two mugs with tea bags already in them on the counter, meaning he’s making one for the both of us this morning. I don’t know if it’s because he genuinely wants tea or if it’s in solidarity with me because I can’t have coffee, but I’m choosing to go with the latter because it makes him seem sweeter than he already is.

Trev’s already pouring his second cup by the time Harry and I steep our teas, looking more alive than he did just a few minutes prior. He clears his throat as he looks me up and down and I see his eyes trail to the counter behind me. When I look back, I see the pile of clothes from last night still sitting there, neatly folded. I never got around to changing into them, and I think Trev is making connections.

It takes him a few moments, and I’m hoping he’ll save his accusations and questions until we’re home later, so Harry doesn’t have to experience them. Of course, Trevor doesn’t operate that way, and he gasps when the pieces are all put together in his mind. Harry misses this interaction at first, of course, since he’s busy scrolling through his work phone, probably checking on emails and missed calls. When Trev gasps, though, he looks up, mildly alarmed.

“You dirty fucks,” Trev breathes out, a laugh bubbling out of his lips.

“What?” Harry asks, absolutely clueless.

“You slept together last night,” Trev says triumphantly, a smirk pulling at his lips. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before continuing. “I told you this would happen.”

“When did you ever say that?” I ask, genuinely confused. I don’t fail to notice how Harry just quietly smiles over his mug, eyes twinkling.

“Last month when you ran into each other again,” he urges.

I think back to that time and finally realize what he was talking about. “We were talking about how Harry wouldn’t be able to stay mad at me because he’s got a soft spot for pregnant women and me. What does that have to do with this?”

“That was me calling it that you wouldn’t be able to stay platonic for very long. I figured not until after the baby came along, but you both seemed to want to expedite that process,” he shrugs. “I’m all for it, honestly. Watching you two try to navigate a relationship together while not fucking each other’s brains out was like watching a baby deer trying to stand for the first time. Plus, you both look pretty fucking blissed out right now. I like it.”

“I…” I start, looking baffled at my best friend. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

He shrugs again, taking another sip of his coffee. “You don’t have to say shit. Just keep fucking Harry. It’s a good look on you.”

“You are so strange,” I sigh, shaking my head.

“We’ve been friends for nearly four years. You think you’d figured that out by now.”

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight,” Harry blurts as I’m slipping my dress from the previous night back on. Harry made us all a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and we all sat around his kitchen talking for about an hour. It’s reaching the afternoon now, and Trev has to get back to do some last minute studying for a test he has the next day.

“What?” I ask, slightly amazed by his request. “You’ve got a flight in the morning, H.”

“And I want to spend more time with you before I’m gone for a few weeks,” he reasons. “Just got you back, Mick. And I think we’ve got some things to talk about.”

I sigh, knowing he’s absolutely right. Just because we slept together and professed our love for each other doesn’t exactly tie up all our loose ends. And there’s a lot more to consider now than just Harry and me; there’s a baby that will be arriving in a few short weeks to take into consideration, too.

“Dinner sounds nice,” I agree, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. “And you’re okay with us going out out?”

“I know a place that’s pretty secluded. We’ll probably be seen by a handful of people, but we won’t be bothered.” He walks over to me from where he was stood pulling on a pair of jeans, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. “And would it really be so bad for us to be seen together again?” He brushes a loose piece if my hair back and tucks it behind my ear.

“You’re a private person, Harry, and I respect that. I just don’t want you to have to deal with attention that you don’t want,” I reason.

“By now, those photos of us from last night are circulating around the internet and are probably a breaking story on TMZ. People have already got ideas in their heads about what’s going on. I’m sure some are assuming correctly. Just because they know about you doesn’t mean my privacy is gone.” His large hand cups the back of my neck and his thumb brushes along my jawline. “Jeff actually wants to do a short press release about the situation, just to shut up reporters. He’s already been emailing me about requests for information he’s gotten.”

“What do you think will appease them enough to get off your back?”

“It’s because I’m so private that people are so frenzied for these stories,” he sighs, running his hand up and down my back. “I suppose if I did what everyone else does and post on my social media outlets more often, it would calm down.”

“Don’t do that if you’re not comfortable with it, Harry,” I warn. “Do what makes you happy.”

“Making sure you and our daughter are safe and happy is what makes me happy,” he declares. “If that means posting a photo of you two once every three months and writing little blurbs about milestones, I’m more than willing to do that.”

There’s a tap on the door, then, Trevor signaling that he’s put together enough to leave.

I sigh and run my hands over his broad shoulders, appreciating the warm smoothness of his skin and lightly tracing over a few of his tattoos on his left arm. “We’ll talk about this more tonight, yeah?”

Harry nods, a solemn look on his face that I know he tries to hide quickly. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up around six.”

“I don’t want you going out of your way,” I protest.

“The place is in LA. You’re on my way,” he assures with a soft smile. He dips his head down and presses his lips to mine, letting a soft kiss linger for a few moments. “Lemme put a shirt on and I’ll walk you guys out.”

Trevor is able to drive, so Harry helps me into the passenger side, lingering as I close the door. With the window down, he leans against the sill, head poking in through the opening.

“Six tonight, Mick,” he reminds, like we didn’t just have a conversation about it five minutes prior.

“What should I wear?” I ask.

“Similar to what you’re wearing now is good,” he nods. “Like seeing you in dresses.” He gently wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me forward to press a few last kisses to my lips. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I breathe as he pulls away, allowing Trev to back the car down the drive.

Harry stands in the drive, watching us leave until we’re out of sight. Trev is quiet until he works his way out of Harry’s neighborhood and back onto the main street that will take us back into LA.

“Since when have ‘I love you’s’ been exchanged?” he shouts, suddenly becoming very animated.

“Last night,” I inform him.

“So y’all didn’t just fuck? Like, this was serious.”

“Y’all?” I question, teasing at the drawl the word has even on his slightly accented tone. Growing up in New York, Trev has a watered down version of the accent, mostly presenting itself on certain words and thickening when he gets drunk. The typical southern slang that he just spewed is a bit funny.

“One of my study partners is from Louisiana,” he grumbles as explanation. “Anyway, answer the question, Bennett!”

“I’m pregnant, Trev,” I reason. “I’m not just gonna fuck him for the sake of fucking him. There was a bit of discussion beforehand. It just kinda led to the sex naturally.”

“So you two are, like, actually gonna give this a shot again.”

I shrug, a slight smile playing on my lips. “We’ll see. We’re gonna talk about it at dinner tonight.”

“Oh, so I know I was really drunk by this point, but I definitely saw paps outside the restaurant, right? Like, I didn’t imagine that in my drunken stupor?”

I sigh and prop my head against the window. “No, you definitely didn’t imagine that. There’s probably already photos of us pasted all over the internet. Kinda wanna see what they’re talking about, but I also really don’t.”

Trev digs into his pocket as we wait at a red light and then tosses his phone to me. “Do it. I’ll be here to listen to you rant if you need.”

With a slight hesitancy, I open Trev’s phone and tap on the Twitter icon, waiting only momentarily for the app to load. He doesn’t seem to follow a whole lot of accounts dedicated to One Direction anymore, so I have to actually search Harry’s name in order to find anything. Of course, once I do, I’m a little shocked at how many people seem to be talking about us.

The photos from the night before have definitely already made the rounds. There’s several of them, from Harry and I sitting and eating together to us dancing together. My stomach is very clearly visible in all of them except for where it’s hidden behind tables. And then, of course, there’s the photos of Harry kneeled in front of me, both hands cradling my swollen belly, lips pressed to it over my dress. That’s the photo I see the most of, with people pretty much yelling in the captions about how there’s a possibility that I’m pregnant with his child. My Twitter is private and I see my handle tagged in most of them posts, but I don’t receive notifications for it, so my phone is blissfully silent and void of drama.

“How’s it looking?” Trev asks, glancing at me only briefly to try to read my expression.

“Not too bad,” I shrug. “They’re mostly scrambling to figure out if the baby is his.”

“They’re really questioning that?” he scoffs.

“I mean, some of them think I’m a slag, so they’re trying to play it off,” I chuckle. “Ooh, hold on. I found a post with a link to a Tumblr page.” I tap on it and am not even mildly surprised to find an essay-worthy post by someone who seems to have a pretty big following on the website.

“Read it out loud if the grammar’s not too bad,” Trev requests.

“It’s actually pretty good,” I comment, skimming briefly. “And she seems like one of the normal ones.”

I clear my throat and start to read, both of us pleasantly surprised by how this random person is defending both Harry and me and basically telling all her followers to be decent human beings and be happy for us if their suspicions are true. She also goes on to describe a scarily accurate timeline of mine and Harry’s relationship and how all signs point to Harry definitely being the father of my unborn child. She’s got pretty much everything right, except for the details of why we hadn’t been seen together for a good chunk of the year. I don’t know if Harry will ever address that publicly, but they can assume what they want. They also conclude the post by saying that everyone should respect our privacy and allow us this time together to become a family and get into the groove of being new parents, but that she really hopes we’ll post something about our lives every once in awhile.

“That was very well thought out and kind,” Trev smiles, pulling into our building’s car park.

“It was,” I agree. “Didn’t make me wanna tear my hair out. Kinda wanna thank her but I don’t think that would go over too well.”

“Yeah, better not. Maybe just make a public post thanking everyone for their support once it’s officially out there that you’re having Harry Styles’ baby.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Means I’d have to make something public.”

“Just make it all public. You’re hardly on anyway,” he reasons.

“True. I’ll talk to Harry about it.”

The buzz at the door comes at just before six o’ clock, so I know it’s Harry requesting entrance. Trev has been at the campus library for the last couple hours, cramming in some studying, so I’ve been at home by myself while I get ready. I took Harry’s alive and put on another floral dress, this one off the shoulder and in a blush color. Instead of heels though, I slipped on some sandals and tossed a pretty gold headband in my hair to dress it up a bit.

I let Harry in at the gate and open my flat door so that he can just come straight in when he gets up here, not wanting to have him left in the hall for any reason. Most of my neighbors are older folk that are either at work all day or stay in their flats, but I don’t want to risk him being spotted if we can help it.

I’m in the kitchen making sure I’ve got everything I need in my purse when there’s a tap at the door. I look up to see Harry in the doorway, a pretty smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. They’re a mix of Baby’s Breath, Forget-Me-Nots, and Yellow Pansies. It looks very appropriate for the spring weather and the scent is fresh and pungent as he gets closer to me.

I smile at him. “You got me flowers?”

“Been awhile since I was on a date, but this is still what you do, right?” he jokes, coming around the counter. He sets the flowers on the granite top and pulls me into him, an arm around my waist and his other hand around the back of my neck. He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and then to my nose, making butterflies kick up in my stomach.

I’ve missed this. The comfort and ease and absolutely giddiness I have when I’m with Harry is something I’ve never experienced with anybody else. I nearly forgot how amazing he makes me feel every time he’s with me, and having him around the last couple of weeks has been a good reminder. Between yesterday and today, it’s magnified even more, falling back into our previous behavior with each other. Admitting our feelings has added another layer to it, and while there’s still a lot for us to figure out, I think we can make it work this time.

“Think you’ve done alright for yourself,” I tease, picking up the bouquet and sniffing it. “Smells really pretty. I love Forget-Me-Nots. Lemme find a vase to put them in.”

I search for a few moments and finally find a crystal one that Trev nicked from his mum’s house in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Harry kindly grabs it for me, much taller than I am and not wanting me to strain myself. I fill it with some water as he trims the stems so that it’ll fit nicely into the vase. I set it in the center of the counter once it’s put together and smile at the bit of brightness it brings to the room.

“You ready?” Harry asks, looking over me. “You look beautiful.”

I should just anticipate the blush he makes rise to my cheeks by now, but I still feel a little betrayed by it every time. “Thank you, Harry.”

He cradles my head in his hands as he presses a lingering kiss to my lips, slowly tracing his tongue against the seam of them before pulling away. I whine as he draws back, feeling a little cheated, but he just chuckles and gives a quick peck to my cheek. “I’d love to take this further, but I really wanna take you on a proper date.”

I roll my eyes dramatically and huff a bit. “How dare you be a gentleman.”

Harry smirks. “You like it quite a bit when I’m not, though, right love?”

“Oi, cheeky!” I protest, lightly shoving at his chest. “Got dinner to get to, Styles. Little Bean is hungry.”

That immediately softens his face. His hand moves to cradle my stomach. “We better get going then, yeah?”

We go in through the front door when we get to the restaurant, and the hostess smiles kindly when she sees us, menus already in hand. She greets Harry as ‘Mr. Styles’ which is weird, since she’s our senior by probably twenty years. The familiarity suggests that Harry comes here quite a bit, and when Harry greets her as Sharon, I realize he probably does come here a lot.

We’re shown to a table for two in a corner of the restaurant. None of the other patrons seem to really pay us much mind as we take out seats. There’s a large window beside us that looks out onto the street. The sun has already mostly set, so the twinkling lights that dorm the front of the building are on, making the lighting inside cozy.

“Used to come here with the lads every time we were in LA,” Harry says as soon as Sharon leaves. “Sharon owns the place with her husband. Kinda adopted the five kids who stumbled in before a concert. Can guarantee she’ll ask about the lot of them at some point.”

“You’re just sneaking your way into families left and right, aren’t you?” I tease, flipping open the menu.

“What do you mean?” he asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

I start ticking off examples on my fingers. “The Winstons, the Cordens, the Crawford-Gerbers, and Sharon, apparently. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, too.”

“I can’t help that I’m so lovable,” he jokes, flashing me a wide smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.

Harry helps me figure out what to order by the time that a waiter comes around. He’s young, probably a year or two younger than us, and he’s cute enough in a sort of shy, nerdy way with his square spectacles and messy brown hair that he’s seemed to try to tame but has failed miserably. He’s polite to Harry and listens intently as he takes his order, but he’s all smiles and eager nods as I order, and I can see Harry trying to keep in his chuckles from the corner of my eyes. I want to roll mine, but I don’t want our waiter to get the wrong impression and think I’m rolling my eyes at him, so I save it until he’s walked off.

“Stop it,” I reprimand, using my cloth napkin to lightly swat at Harry’s arm. “Leave the poor lad alone.”

“What? I’m not taking the piss!” he protests, still chuckling. “I just think it’s amusing how you seem to get every male’s attention anywhere you go.”

“What are you on about?”

“The guy at the book store in New York,” he begins ticking off, much like I had a few minutes earlier, “the guy from the pizza place in New York, the guy that works at the donut shoppe by your flat, and this waiter. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, too.”

I don’t miss the mocking edge as he throws my own words back at me with a little smirk. “I can’t help that I’m so lovable,” I brush off with a small hair flip.

Harry barks out a laugh, causing a few people to turn their heads to see what’s going on. He rushes out an apology, still chuckling slightly. “I love you,” he breathes, eyes twinkling at me under the shimmering lights just outside the window.

My heart flutters with his declaration. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him saying it.

THIRTY-FIVE

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #dad!harry #No Control #one direction

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