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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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PART 2. LOVE IS FAKE, MARRY A WEALTHY SUITOR

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. thank u guys for all the positive feedback on this series so far and i really hope u enjoy this chapter too ! ^-^ xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

It seemed your subtle pleas to the gods to see the mysterious businessman again had been answered, since only the day after Shouto gave you a $100 tip, you saw him at the cafe.

You looked to the skies with a hint of suspicion. This seemed too easy— You were expecting at least a few weeks of your heart pining as you wondered where-oh-where your dreamy customer could have gone. But instead, after a mere 24 hours later, you saw him enter the store in a pair of pressed trousers and a light blue, button up shirt that was rolled just below his elbows.

Blinking, you drew your attention away from his exposed forearms. You knew he was attractive from your first encounter, but was he always this hot?

Sadly, you couldn’t focus too much on that since he had to get behind the line and obstruct himself from your view, and you had to take the order of the next customer.

“Hi! I can take the next person in line.” You smiled. “Good morning! What can I get started for you today?”

After repeating that five or so more times and starting a few drinks on hot bar, you finally reached Shouto’s place and, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be too many patrons piling behind him.

“Good morning, Shouto!” you greeted when he stepped forward to the counter. “How are you this morning?”

“Better now that I saw you.”

Your smile faltered as your cheeks heated up, but you tried to brush it off with a laugh. While Shouto had the definite looks of a so-called businessman playboy, his words held none of the flirtatious intonation as one might expect. In fact, he sounded like he genuinely meant it— Like he was only stating a simple fact and had no reason to be shameful.

It felt both like an attack on your heart and like a refreshing glass of water at the same time.

“How about you?” he continued.

“I could say the same thing,” you said with a chuckle, but you found yourself meaning everything you told him. Though you didn’t expect to see him again at the cafe so soon, you couldn’t deny the instant he walked through the doors, your morning felt just a little bit brighter. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but this is a pleasant surprise.”

Shouto had the decency to look a little bashful as he averted his gaze slightly. “Yeah. I…really liked the...cheese danishes.”

Surprised, a small giggle left your lips. “Don’t tell me you finished all three dozen of them!”

“Well…” He looked even more sheepish. “I didn’t exactly… I guess you could say that.”

“I’m glad you liked them so much you came back for more,” you teased, looking down at the pastries from the oven you just stocked. “Sadly, our fresh pastry today is a chocolate croissant. I can tell my manager to have cheese danishes made again soon though!”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try the chocolate croissants today then. Maybe five dozen this time.”

Five multiplied by twelve… A whole 60 chocolate croissants? Were they all for him? You shrugged, not one to judge. If someone wanted to eat 60 croissants, so be it. Though you did hope he wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting. That might give him a stomachache.

“Alrighty, five dozen chocolate croissants,” you repeated as you typed it into the register. “And would you like any beverages with that? Another flat white maybe?”

“Actually, I’ll have a large macchiato with two extra shots of espresso this time.”

You nodded with a hum. “Long day ahead?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I hope the coffee and croissants can carry you through, Shouto!” you said, wishing his day would go by smoothly. “Will that be all for you today?”

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too. And yes, that’s it.”

“Great. $73.24 is your total then! Will you be paying in card again?”

He nodded.

“Go ahead and scan and sign when you’re ready.”

You busied yourself by writing his name and order on a large cup and starting the espresso pulls. Your manager was helping get the pastries and other orders ready this morning, so it was nowhere near as hectic as yesterday.

“Your order will be to your right. It was nice seeing you again, Shouto.” You smiled, giving him a small wave and already wishing you could hold the line up to talk to him longer. “See you tomorrow morning?” you asked almost hesitantly.

He returned your smile with upturned lips of his own. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” Before he left the counter, he pulled out another $100 bill—did he go to a dry cleaners to have his cash steamed and ironed? It was almost ridiculously crisp—and handed it to you. “A tip to show my appreciation for your service.”

“A-Again?” you stammered, eyes wide. That was $200 in two days from just his tip alone. That was more than you made in two weeks when you worked part-time! “Are you sure?”

Whether he had money to spare or not, this was incredibly generous of him and you would never have expected this amount from anyone. And it wasn’t like Shouto made it a scene for everyone in the shop to look at and gawk; he was subtle yet unashamed. Like he wanted to do it for no other reason than to do it.

“Of course. You deserve it for your work, Y/N.”

The customer behind him made an impatient noise and you winced. You wanted to be able to thank him more, but all you had time for was a simple, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Shouto nodded in response before walking to the other side of the cafe to wait for his order while you managed the other customers in line, a fuzzy but warm feeling lingering in your stomach from your bizarre interaction. Money or not, you enjoyed seeing him in the mornings and were already looking forward to your brief conversations that would take place the next days to come.

He certainly gave you something to look forward to amidst the inconsiderate customers who barely saw you as human every morning. Sometimes, that was all you could ask for.

When Shouto left the store and the line had died down towards the end of rush hour, your manager approached you with a curious look on her face.

“That guy named Shouto…?” Miyazaki said.

You nodded.

“A friend of yours?”

“You could say that… We just met yesterday’s morning shift,” you said as you finished up the green tea latte for one of the remaining stragglers from the last hour’s boom. “But he’s really friendly I think.”

“You only recently became associated?” she asked, lifting a brow. “It seemed like you two were quite chummy today.” Then, nudged your side. “He was rather attractive don’t you think? And rich-looking.”

Fumbling with the lid on the beverage, you stifled a surprised cough. Sure, you got along with your boss and thought she was one of the more understanding and kind individuals you have worked under, but gossiping about the looks and potential income of a customer with your 56-year-old manager was not on your bingo sheet as a worker here.

“I…” You called out the order for the latte before turning back to your manager. “He is.”

“Ooh, he’s rich?”

“I meant he’s attractive!” you sputtered, feeling abashed at her blunt words. You thought of the tip he gave you in your pocket and his orders of dozens of pastries. “Rich…maybe so. Not that it matters!”

Miyazaki tsked. “Of course it matters! Marry rich and your life will be easier. That’s what my mother told me and what her mother told her.” She shook her head. “Should’ve listened.”

You laughed, feeling only a little awkward. It wasn’t the first time you heard that sentiment from someone older than you. It wasn’t uncommon for family members or even workers you were close to to share that same advice—if you could even call it that.

While you agreed money could make a lot of things easier, marrying someone for wealth didn’t appeal to you. But you recognized that even that may come from a place of privilege to be able to say.

“He seems like a wealthy suitor for you, yes?”

“Suitor—?” you choked out. “No! I mean— We just met! We don’t know anything about each other really.”

She sighed, “Young people and their obsession with marrying someone they ‘know’ for true love. When do you really know someone anyway?” Waving a hand she changed the topic. “But enough of that. What I wanted to say was next time that man comes in here, we can offer him a complimentary box of a dozen pastries— Since he’s spent so much in so little it feels like the right thing to do.”

“Sure. A complimentary dozen.” Finally. Work. A topic you felt much more comfortable talking about. “That, I can do.”

“And then maybe offer a hand in marriage while you’re at it.”

“Mrs. Miyazaki!” you gasped, feeling only mildly affronted.

“I joke.” She ruffled her hair and smoothed down her apron. “I’m going to make more pastries now. Can you hold up the front?”

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can. Thanks for your hard work!”

And with that, she headed to the backroom where the kitchen was to leave you alone with your thoughts in a quiet cafe. Rush hour ended so there were only a few customers trickling in, most much kinder and more pleasant to talk to than the bustling businessmen of the earlier shift.

Throughout your small conversations with the patrons, you found yourself thinking back to two things— One, how interesting traditional values and teachings in collectivist cultures were and questioning where you fell into place with them, and two…wondering about Shouto.

Tomorrow, he had said before he left. You’d see him again tomorrow.

Oddly enough, you were looking forward to it more than you’d like to admit.

— ✩ —

It was the fifth day of the week, the fifth time he had seen you at the cafe, and he was already tempted to see you again. Would it be invasive to get another pastry after work? Would you even be there working at that hour?

Shouto saw you this morning (along with all the other mornings before that) and yet he couldn’t quell the pull he felt towards you with only the short interaction time you had together. But he would take what he could get without being weird.

He had been told in the past he could be too forward and dysregulate his feelings and scare people off, and that wasn’t something he wanted to risk with you, though he was certainly much better at it now with learning and practice. If he was reading things correctly, you at least seemed to enjoy seeing him during your shift.

“You got more pastries, sir?” an employee from the medical supplies sector asked him gleefully. “I swear they get better each time!”

Shouto nodded with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll be sure to relay your compliment.”

With the dozens of pastries he’s been ordering from your cafe (each order seeming to grow every time he visited after realizing just how much his employees enjoyed it), he would place them around the breakrooms and staff kitchens in the establishment. Those areas were always fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches and chocolates in case anyone needed a little boost, but nothing seemed to bring as much comfort as freshly baked pastries did. And a different baked good almost everyday seemed to give people more to get excited about.

He owed it all to your sales’ pitch and blinding smile that made him want to buy it. And your personality, of course.

His Personal Secretary had started to wonder why she no longer was tasked with his early morning coffee runs, and Shouto had to find a way to answer without saying it was because there was a barista he wanted to keep talking to.

Not even he was that shameless.

The first time, his PS had just called in sick and Shouto decided he might as well head to a cafe himself for the first time in a while. He worried he might have been rusty while ordering, but you did such a good job at being welcoming and guiding the transaction that he found himself actually enjoying it. (Enjoying you, maybe. But it was too soon to admit that.)

And now, after that initial meeting, he decided it was worth half an hour of his day to give his PS some early morning break time and visit the cafe himself.

It was worth it so much, in fact, that the next morning on a Saturday, despite most of his employees being given the weekend off, he still went to buy some coffee and pastries.

“Good morning!” an older lady called as he entered the front doors. Shouto had seen her assisting in shifts and baking pastries when you were busy working the cash register. “What can I get started for you today?”

He looked around the store—relatively quiet compared to the rush hour during the weekdays—and to his disappointment, saw no sight of you.

The current barista laughed, seeming to read his very thoughts. “Looking for someone? Y/N perhaps?”

His gaze shot up, feeling like a kid getting caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to by his guardian. Cautiously, he gave a small nod.

“‘Fraid they have the weekends off, actually,” the lady—her name tag read Miyazaki—said. “But don’t look so down, they’ll be back on Monday morning to greet you with a smile.”

He nodded again, feeling his face heat up. Was he that transparent or did Miyazaki just know too much? “Thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckled, waving him over. “No need to be so formal. Now, is there anything I can get for you? Or were you just visiting in hopes of asking our dear Y/N out?”

“No— I…” Shouto felt himself averting his gaze. “I’ll order something.”

At his apparent discomfort, her mischievous gaze softened. “Of course, hon. Sorry for teasing too much. I was just excited seeing how adorable you and Y/N were.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s not my business. Anyway. What can I get started for you?”

He asked for a macchiato and a couple dozen of today’s pastries, paid, and tipped. (Though, it was initially met with a blatant rejection. He didn’t take it too hard; he knew some older members of society thought of tips as insulting and he’d never force anyone to take a tip if it made them feel bad. But after offering again, she thankfully accepted it.)

When he left the cafe, although the exchange was pleasant enough, Shouto still found himself disappointed he wasn’t able to see you.

At least he had something to look forward to next Monday morning, though part of him wished the day would somehow come sooner.

a/n: hope u enjoyed miyazaki’s words of wisdom u.u FHKDF i’m totally kidding, but if ur asian like me then u kNOW what convos like that are like omg ,, just had my mom and two grandmas tell me that recently :’/ kskskfd but anyway i hope u enjoyed this chapter and liked seeing a glimpse of shouto’s thoughts ;3 tysm for reading!

what to expect in the next part:

more shouto and y/n :>

maybe some ~flirting~ pfft idk idk u.u

some minor...misunderstandings

“hello, zuko here” vibes

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blackgirl-galactica · 4 years ago

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IN LOVE WITH VENUS!!! (Part 2)

Note: While I am not a professional astrologer, I love studying astrology and its aspects. Please do not reword/repost/steal my work!! Thank you so much.

HELLO AGAIN!!!

I am back again to finish the Venus series. Today we will discuss Libra-Pisces Venus signs! Thank you all so much for the love on Part 1 and I hope you learned alot. I know it basic, but I love helping people learn. I'm so excited to discuss PART 2!!!

LIBRA VENUS:

Venus is in its domicile in this placement. A Libra Venus loves harmony. They love aesthetics. Personally, I have observed that Libra Venuses and other Libra placements love the color pink, but that is just a personal observation. A Libra Venus is a connoisseur in the arts as well. Being that Libra represents 7th house themes such as partnerships, a Libra Venus may feel best or better when they are in relationships or always socializing with other people. This is even more so if the Libra Venus is in said person's 7th house. Not saying that a Libra Venus can not live without a relationship, but partnerships make them feel really balanced and they always love taking care of their partners. Its beautiful. Anything creative a Libra Venus wants to pursue, they will definitely either want it to be a team effort or they will consult many opinions from others that they trust. They care about people and their thoughts, but remember Libra Venus, you got this!!

SCORPIO VENUS:

While Venus may be in its detriment here, that does not mean a Scorpio Venus can not love. Actually, these are some of the most passionate lovers ever. Love is also loyalty to them, so remember that next time you want to pursue things with a Scorpio Venus. They are not the types to just date around. Not saying it isn't possible for them to do so, but a Scorpio Venus wants depth in their relationships. Yet, knowing all relationships don't work out, Scorpio Venus, your Pluto-ruled Venus means that through every relationship you change for the better. These are also the type of artists that create after a significant transformation or period in their lives. A Scorpio Venus puts their all, at least emotionally, into their creative endeavors as art is not surface and a Scorpio Venus needs a way to translate their feelings. Some people may not understand a Pluto-ruled Venus way of expressing themselves, but who cares? Scorpio Venus never hold your true emotions back. You feel it, so create with it.

SAGITTARIUS VENUS:

I feel like this is such an interesting Venus sign. A Sagittarius Venus is open to love. They see love as an adventure and a learning opportunity. They love being with people and you may find a Sag Venus that has diverse partners. Being a Jupiter-ruled Venus, they are always learning from their partners as well, esp if they come from different backgrounds (cultural backgrounds, socioeconomic backgrounds, etc). It is so interesting. When it comes to their creativity, a Sagittarius Venus will use their creativity to teach! Teaching is a Jupiter-ruled theme, and its almost impossible for a Sagittarius Venus to create something and not hope that the world around them learns from it or is impacted. These people are fun-loving, carefree, and live their lives like tomorrow is not coming. Their relationships can also be a catalyst to understanding themselves on a more spiritual level.

CAPRICORN VENUS:

Having a Saturn-ruled Venus is not easy for a Capricorn Venus. Actually no Saturn placement is easy, but anyway a Capricorn Venus is the type to view love or partnerships more traditionally. These people may take on the viewpoints of how they saw their parents together or how their family views love. A Capricorn Venus is not super uptight like some may think, yet they are serious about what they want and don't want out of a relationship. It's not to be picky, but it is no point in wasting a Capricorn Venus' time if you are not going to be committed to the relationship as much as they will be. Being a Saturn-ruled Venus, these people may feel better dating someone older than them (reasonably older should I add). A Capricorn Venus likes creative endeavors that are closely related to what they want to do in their careers, or said endeavor can become their career. Capricorn represents 10th house themes such as career and public status, so a hobby isn't just a hobby, they know it can be a potential business if they really want to do it. A Capricorn Venus is more of a traditional individual when it comes to their values, but they know that their love and deep and reserved for the right individual.

AQUARIUS VENUS:

This Venus placement is not talked about much but we're gonna talk about it!!!! An Aquarius Venus does not view love as serious as Capricorn Venus deeming they are both traditionally ruled by Saturn. However, that does not mean an Aquarius Venus will just go off and date anyone. An Aquarius Venus does not view love as a box or maybe as traditionally as others may, but connection is their most important aspect. Being an air venus, Aquarius Venus connect with you based on the ideas you have and what your views are. If they don't like it, you won't get a text back lol. Which is why many may question an Aquarius Venus love choices, but just know that it is because they person they are with connects with them!! Especially in terms of ideas since Aquarius rules 11th house themes like ideas and goals. An Aquarius Venus may end up in relationships with people they were once close friends with as Aqua rules friendships and communities. In terms of their creativity, an Aquarius Venus may spend their time in tech, advocacy, or literally anything that just keeps them preoccupied mentally and they know can help them progress as an individual. They also love doing hobbies that include their friends, or they may just simply like being with their friends. Either way, connection is key with an Aquarius Venus.

PISCES VENUS:

Venus is exalted in the sign of Pisces!!! Exaltation means that the sign will exhibit the strongest qualities of said planet. So a Pisces Venus will exhibit Venusian qualities by 10x. A Pisces Venus is so creative in anything they want to do, and it touches people as this is a Neptunian ruled Venus and Neptune represents 12th house themes like the subconscious collective. When a Pisces Venus creates, it touches and heals others and people can not even explain why!!! This can also happen in their relationships. Love is a movie for a Pisces Venus. Love is boundless. Love is what makes a Pisces Venus go round. This is such a beautiful placement to have. Being with a Pisces Venus is so amazing because they will go above and beyond for their partners. Yet, being a Neptunian-ruled Venus, that can come at a cost. Pisces Venus make sure you and your partner are on one accord as Neptune does represent illusions and secrets. Not to scare you, but some people like to take advantage of your good energy and don't let them do that. You are too beautiful of a soul to let that happen.

THAT IS IT FOR THIS SERIES!!!! I HOPE YOU LEARNED ALOT ABOUT VENUS THROUGH THE SIGNS!! TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR MY NEXT SERIES (idk yet), BUT IT WILL BE COMING OUT SOON!! LOVE YALL!!

-Claude

#venus in libra #venus in scorpio #venus in sagittarius #venus in capricorn #venus in aquarius #venus in pisces #astrology #astrology blog #astrology basics #spirituality #astro notes

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

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A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I��ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…” He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x you #king!thor x you #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt05

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love-amihan · 3 years ago

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| ʜᴏᴍᴇ | ᴊᴊᴋ | ᴀᴏᴛ | ʜǫ | ꜰɪʟᴏ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛs | ᴍɪᴍɪ |

TO THE MOON AND BACK // TETSUROU KUROO

word count: 1.3k+

song used: i see the light by mandy moore, zachary levi

amihan’s note: big brain time, this is kinda connected with the kenma fic, it's not really a necessity to this fic but yeah thought i would connect the two and two together, happy reading!

masterlist: 300 milestone

kuroo + high school sweethearts + "here’s my jacket"

long-time boyfriend!kuroo x fem!reader

“how did you two meet?” lev asks in curiosity, leaning on his palms while looking at the two of you.

the group groans in chorus, “what?” the tall first-year asks, ��did i say something wrong?” he innocently asks.

“you’ve already opened the topic,” morisuke says while pinching his side, kuroo smiles widely and puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

you hide your face behind your hands and groan loudly. “why do you have to ask lev?” you say while cringing on the inside.

“oh come on, it’s a fairy tale like story. you we’re my damsel in distress, my queen” he emphasizes the endearment with a teasing tone.

he brings up his free hand gesturing to nothingness, “tangled got nothing on us,” he says with all confidence and looks back at their tall middle blocker.

“once upon a time,” he baby talks, you push kuroo’s face away.

“stop that,” you grumble, heat comes rushing up your face. kuroo chuckles and rests his arm around you, obliging your request.

“okay, this is how i met y/n. you better listen closely or else you’ll miss something important” he says while pointing at lev, who in return, nods enthusiastically.

“say, would you be interested in going on a blind date? i know this girl,” morisuke offers with a soft smile. kuroo takes a sharp breath, “oh, i don’t know. kinda busy with being a good captain,” he says with a shrug which earn him a smack at the back of his head.

morisuke rolls his eyes and turns on his heel, “be ready tomorrow, i’ll text you the time and place” with that said, the libero leaves the middle blocker and doesn't wait for an answer.

“hey, isn’t that illegal?! i haven’t given you my consent!” kuroo shouts after him.

“what are you saying, yakkun?!” kuroo exclaims on his phone, “i said i’ll give you the time and place, i didn’t say anything about setting all of it for you,” he nonchalantly replies.

“what do i do then-” kuroo's complaints get interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

he turns around and sees you, “am i late?” you sheepishly smile at him. one thing kuroo hates more than anything is when people don’t show up on time but i guess, for you he can work on that.

you slightly tilt your head to the side, kuroo who still has his phone pressed against his ear is staring at you with his mouth agape.

“if you’re not gonna answer, i’ll be hang-” before morisuke could push the red button, kuroo beats him to it.

the raven-haired clears his throat and shove his phone inside his pockets, “yeah, no. just in time, you ready?” his charming smile greeting you, “i see,” you sigh in relief. “may i?” he offers a hand which you gladly accept.

kuroo leads the way, hands intertwined with yours. “where are you taking me, uhhh… uhm,” you halt your steps and furrow your brows in concentration, eyes focused on him. “kuroo, tetsurou kuroo” he fills in for you.

“kuroo-san,” you say while nodding, “kuroo’s alright and i’m taking the lovely lady somewhere around here. it’s a surprise, you’ll have to find out later,” his smiles cheekily while winking at you.

morisuke might have not set up a place for your date but he knows this one location he loves the most. it might be a risky move to bring someone he’s only met once but his guts tells him otherwise.

a small gasp comes past your lips, the view is beautiful.

“before i continue the story, i gotta say. i’m such an innovative genius,” kuroo boasts. you nudge his shoulder a little, “just continue the story, nerd” kuroo pouts at your statement.

the first date happened by the side of the lake, kind of recreating the tangled lake scene except it’s daylight and there’s no lantern nor were you two on a boat. “do you like it?” his voice trembles slightly.

“how do you know this place?” your gaze fleeting from his eyes and back to the view, in awe of its beauty. kuroo lets out a deep breath and walks beside you, “i consider this my escape place.”

your head snaps in his direction, “you trust me to know this place?... in our first date?!” you look at him with wide eyes.

kuroo shrugs, “are you saying there’s gonna be a second?” he kicks a random pebble, his lips spreading to a playful smile.

he looks at you in the eyes with a brow raised, you break eye-contact, your face heating up. “so… escape place huh?” you try to subtly change the subject, he hums, having fun seeing you flustered.

the date went great, you got to know him better. he’s a sweet guy despite the rumors surrounding him overall a laid-back person.

kuroo holds up a finger, smiling ear to ear, he’s enjoying your company as much as you enjoy his. he’s about to utter his words when big drops of water land on the top of his head.

“oh you gotta be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath. the rain starts pouring down on the two of you, “it really has to be right at this moment?” you giggle at his words while he takes off his jacket.

“here’s my jacket,” he says while standing up. after you put on his jacket and wear the hood, he takes your hand in his, “are you a runner?” you shake your head to him, “sadly, i’m not.”

“how about dancing?” he reaches out for your other hand, “what? kuroo…” he rests both your hands around his neck and smiles down at you, his hands making their way to your hips.

he clears his throat before singing, “all those days,” his eyes finding yours, deep soothing voice filling your ears. “chasing down a daydream,” his voice lingering, bringing a hand up to cradle your face.

both your hips sways side to side as his voice sets the pace, the rain pouring down on the two of you. “all those years,” his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

the golden-like light shining down on you, perfectly framing your features, “living in a blur” you close your eyes leaning to his warm touch.

“i gotta say, you’re lucky to have your own flynn rider,” kuroo smugly claims. you scoff and roll your eyes at him, “if anything, you’re more of a maximus than flynn.” your boyfriend gasps at you and looks genuinely hurt by your statement.

“also, i can’t believe you gave me your jacket and decide to get us drenching wet from the rain,” you say while looking him in the eyes, “yeah that was pretty dumb, not gonna lie,” kenma mumbles while playing with his handheld game console.

“it was not! it’s very sweet and that wasn’t what you said when we were having our disney moment,” kuroo faces you, the arm around your shoulder is now pointing at you. “yeah because i don’t wanna be rude.”

as the two of you have your mini banter, kai turns to morisuke, “maximus has a better personality than flynn though… right?” the libero chuckles, “let him be, flynn does perfectly portray that tall bastard anyway.”

your mini argument is temporarily cut off by your sneeze, kuroo sighs, “you forgot your jacket again?” you shake your head, too stubborn to admit. “i’m okay, as i’m saying, you’re maxi-” he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulder.

“wear it then we can continue,” he says while looking at you sternly, you begrudgingly wear the jacket and cross your arms while huffing.

“is this normal?” lev who’s watching the scene unfold, asks the group, they all nod in sync, not batting an eye at the couple.

as lev turns to look back at the couple, he can’t believe how you were just having a mini banter not moments ago and now you're all over each other.

“love you,” you mutter, snuggling closer to his side, “and i love you... to the moon and back,” he replies, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

-to embrace hs sweethearts

you take kuroo's hand as he leads you in the center of the dance floor, the music changing to a slower song, the instrumentals familiar to your ears.

kuroo takes the mic that's given to him and smiles at you, looking deeply into your eyes. "all those days," his beautiful voice can be heard by everyone.

your eyes soften looking back with the same overflowing love, "i love you," you mouth to him as he continues, "watching from the windows."

soon, rain special effects start pouring down just outside where you and him won't get wet, "you even got the rain effect?" you gasp, mouth agape. he nods, lyrics continue to flow past his lips.

taglist: @arrianao @tendo-sxtori @milkteeboba @lumpiang-toge @chibishae34 @emeraldscloud @tohman @kirakirasaku @sushi-guro @duhsies @foxxtrot-116 @gay-bitch23 @crybabyjabby

#kuroo as flynn?#anyone?#bcs i’m all in for it #i’ll give u my soul #if u makes this happen #fandom;hq #nekoma;kuroo #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #haikyuu oneshot #hq oneshot

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

Text

History

Pair: Hermione Granger x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Hermione swore she would hate Slytherins since Draco Malfoys blonde self rolled into town, but your relentless flirting and charming smile causes her to feel stuff.

Warnings: Swears, bad flirting.

Notes: Slytherin!Reader, cute request. Probably super late and probably super crummy-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

"Hello, Granger!” You flashed her your best smile, your arms crossing over the table. She turned to you with a raised eyebrow, lacking all hint of the grin she held just moments before you sat beside you. “What? Did I interrupt something important?” You knew you interrupted her read, of course you did. This was the only time she was ever away from Strawberry Shortcake and Boy Wonder. Maybe they were allergic to studying?

“What are you doing here, (L/n)?” Your last name rolled off her tongue with grace, making your heart skip a beat or two. She turned back to her book, her now dull eyes trailing down the page at an impressive rate. Her voice was colder than a Dementors heart, but that didn’t kill your mood a lick.

“Well, I just wanted to chat! See how your day is going, maybe ask if you need help with whatever you're currently studying.” You slid the book closer to you, effectively causing her to lose her place. You lifted one end to check the cover. “Muggle history, huh? Didn’t take you for the type.”

“First of all, it’s none of your business what I’m studying or how my day went. Second, don’t touch my book,” she yanked it back and held it to her chest before standing up, “and finally, leave me alone.” She pushed her seat in, giving you the cold shoulder as she walked toward the exit of the library.

“Alrighty then, Granger! I’ll just see ya tomorrow!” Your cheery voice made her groan in dread. You weren’t going to get all gloomy just because she didn’t want to see you right away. You knew you would have to warm her up and you kept to your word, sitting next to her the next day at the library. She was only closed off toward you because some idiots can’t keep their bloody mouths shut. That, and you were a pure-blood that wore the green and silver tie.

Slytherins got hate, more than other houses. They always got a bad wrap because someone had to open their mouth and say some of the dumbest stuff imaginable that gave perfectly normal and rational people bad reputations. That someone was named Draco Malfoy. It wasn’t like they could lock him up and pretend he was in literally any other house, they tried. It didn’t work. Maybe if Draco kept his mouth shut, you wouldn’t stay up so late at night, cursing the color of your tie. Scratch that, you probably could’ve been the golden Trios friend, maybe just Hermione’s.

The brunette had caught your eye. She was rather pretty. And rather smart. And sassy. And strong. And- Ok, so she was a lot of things and you liked her and that’s fine! Perfectly fine. You'd accepted how you felt about the witch a while ago. Only problem was the way she viewed the house you were sorted into. You were a Slytherin, which explained all the tension. But you didn’t want it there.

Over time, you longed to be near her. You wanted to hold wants with her and make her laugh and watch her eyes sparkle with emotions reserved for only you. So, you decided you'd try to change her perception on the green and silver themed house and the people who were sorted into it, which led you to now. You’d been doing this for a few days now, just saying hi to her, her friends and just trying to be polite.

You left the library, quickly finding no other reason to stay there. Walking down the bustling halls, you ignored the glares you got from all around you. People would always look at others and see the color of their robes before the person themselves and it was beyond frustrating, but you managed to win a few over, like Cedric and Cho and, somehow, Harry Potter himself. That’s how you knew you’d win her over. Once people got to know you, they learned you were very down to earth, very not stereotypical Slytherin, and most found you charming with a splash of witty.

So, you kept up the routine of seeing her every day at the library, trying your best to make small talk and change her mind. What Hermione kept to herself was that she promised to do anything but fall for you. She tried her hardest not to let you in. She tried her best to not blush over your cheesy flirts and genuine compliments. Her and Ron thought you were a spy for Draco- Harry knew better.

It had been a week since that encounter with muggle history and pure sass and she was starting to open up to you. It was evident by how her eyes would shimmer at you too, instead of just her friends, but now you. You’d managed to turn her a soft pink with a simple wink. It was so refreshing to see her smile everyday, which led you to actively seeking her out in the hallways. You didn’t find her in the hallways, though. She was outside, in the courtyard sitting between Harry and Ron, no surprise there. You scurried over, waving enthusiastically to the trio, to which you received two waves and a simple nod- Ron still didn’t trust you.

“Hello, boys! Hermione. How are you doing this evening?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face as Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, like usual nowadays. You sat down on the ground in front of them, not worrying about the dirt that would cover your dark uniform.

“Hi, (Y/n).” Harry spoke up first, reaching around Hermione to nudge Ron when he remained silent.

“Hi.” Oh, his voice just held excitement, didn’t it?

“Hello, (Y/n)! Are you here to return my textbook or do I have to pry it from your hands?” The brunette witch held her hand out, a cheeky smile across her lips. You ducked your head down, gazing at the cover of the muggle history textbook tucked under your arm and took in a breath through your breath.

“Ooh, I’m not sure, Granger. Might have to take it from me.” You smirked at her, enjoying how her cheeks turned a brighter red. You let out a chuckle when she looked at you with a playful glare and handed the book over to her. “Alright, alright. I got the hint, love, relax.” You laughed a little harder when Ron dramatically rolled his eyes.

“Why did he have your book?” Harry turned to Hermione, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She pulled the cover of the book to her chest.

"Well, he ruined his after the potions fiasco last week-"

"Hey!" you tried to cut her off, embarrassment quickly setting in.

"-when his potion turned green and literally climbed out of the cauldron."

"He gave me bad instructions!" your voice kept falling on deaf ears as the trio snickered.

"Oh, right! I remember that!" Ron spoke up, snickering as your cheeks turned red.

"Didn’t it slide right off the table and fall into his bag and literally ate his muggle history book?" Harry covered his mouth as they all snickered at the event. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"It didn't eat my book!" You grumbled out as you looked down at the dirt. You used your finger to draw in the loose dirt as you pouted. "It burned right through it. Cost me a few galleons and a detention."

Hermione let out another giggle and rolled her eyes. She slipped a piece of her hair behind her ear and chewed on her lip.

"I know, which is why I let you borrow mine. Aw, come on! Don’t be like that, we’re just teasing. It’s what friends do.” She smiled at you again, but instead of smiling back, you just felt cold.

A shiver wracked down your spine as a freezing cold sensation spreading across your chest. The word ‘friend’ literally echoed in your head while the trio talked like you didn’t exist. She thought of you as a friend. The words made your heart physically ache and suddenly, you were worried you’d throw up, or scream. You watched the brunette nudge Ron on the shoulder, almost shoving him off the ledge of his seat and your head started hurting.

Why would she like you when she was surrounded by chivalrous Gryffindors who’d gladly take her anywhere she wanted to go. You were just a Slytherin. It probably didn’t matter how hard you tried, how nice you were, how many friends you had, you were still a Slytherin.

You looked down at your tie, chewing on your lip. Your eyes stung as your brain went on the tangent. Your brain stopped when you remembered what exactly was inside the book. The coldness in your chest seemed to triple. Your mind flickered to the night before, when you were studying in the library and decided enough was enough and wrote the female a poem that put Romeo and Juliet to shame. It may, or may not have even hinted at your feelings.

You felt a physical itch to get it back. You wanted to wipe the parchment clean, give it to your owl and send it to the ocean to drop it in, maybe even feed it to Scabbers- anything to get it out of her hands.

“Hermione!” Your loud shout interrupted the jokes flying back and forth between the friends, and, honestly, interrupted most of the conversations scattered across the courtyard. Your cold chest quickly flipped to burning hot as embarrassment set in. “Um.. I think I left some notes in your book.”

“Oh, did you?” She looked down at it, laying it cover side up on her lap before opening the cover.

“Yeah, but uh, don’t trouble yourself with finding it! I um- I can do it.” You reached for it, but she shifted the book so she was holding it by the spine.

“No, no, I got it.” The brunette witch dragged her thumb along the edge of the pages, allowing them to fall until she spotted the brownish parchment separating the gray faded pages. “Is this it?” She picked it up delicately, smiling at you. She noticed how your ears were bright red, how your hand was twitching just a few inches away from the book and how your eyes held dread- borderline panic within them.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s.. That.” You chewed on your lip, refusing to meet her eyes. Hermione’s smile dropped a little. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what was going on. She looked down at the paper, noticing the semi-messy handwriting and a few doodles that had her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her eyes skimmed across the pages of where said paper was trapped and noticed it was wedged between a few pages of a specific romantic drama.

“We went over Romeo and Juliet ages ago, (Y/n). Why are you re-reading it?” Her words had your entire face practically turning red and even Harry seemed to pick up on a clue. He stood up and grabbed Ron by the hood of the robes, literally dragging the now shouting red-head away to give you some speckle of privacy.

While you stammered out a response, her eyes flicked down to the brown parchment again. You panicked. You grabbed her wrist and tried to take it from her before she could read it, but you ended up, pushing her off her seat and landing on the floor with a thud. You fell on top of her, your hand pinning her wrist with the parchment beside her head while you basically straddled over her waist.

“Oh, bollocks. Sorry, I’m sorry.” You stammered, letting go of her wrist. “I am so sorry. I just- I didn’t want you to read the poem and think I’m some idiot and like, slap me?” Your eyes looked into hers and that was when you noticed how bright her face. It was a stark contrast against her tie, but not by much. Her cheeks were a bright pink and her lips were hanging open ever so slightly. You got lost in her eyes for a brief moment.

Once you snapped out of it, you practically jumped off the young witch and helped her up. You brushed off her robes and fixed her tie that became crooked and flashed her an awkward, but apologetic smile.

“It’s ok.” Her voice was softer than a whisper. Her hand rubbed the wrist that still held the poem, her eyes casting down to it before looking back up in confusion again. “Wait, you said poem.”

“I did?”

“You told me they were notes, (L/n).”

You swallowed thickly at the mention of your last name. It’d been a good few weeks since she called you that and you were worried you were back at square one. You let out a shaky sigh, nodding your head.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just..” Your sentence trailed off. She was reading over the poem now, so you found explaining it useless. You fiddled with your own robes, dusting them off while she read.

“A night in the star freckled skies or a day below the deep blue lakes, cannot hold a twinkling diamond nor elegant magpies toward your beauty that overtakes.” She read out loud while you cringed. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the best, but you tried. “What’s this all about?” You expected her to glare at you that promised hexing, but you were met with a look one could almost confuse with love sickness.

“Ah, well.. I.. Kinda.. I fancy you.” You squeezed your eyes tight, waiting for the stinging of a slap to meet your cheek, instead you were met with a bunch of giggles. You slowly opened your eyes to look at her. She was covering her face with the paper. “Hermione?” You whispered. Was she laughing at you?

“It’s about time you realized that!” She moved the paper, folding it perfectly and sliding it into her robe pocket. Your jaw dropped to the floor, a clear expression of confusion across your still warm face. “It’s been so obvious!” She was giggling again.

“Wait, so you knew?!” You screeched out, your voice vanishing in the middle. It wasn’t like you didn't know since the bloody beginning that you liked the witch, you just had no idea it was so obvious.

“Of course I did! The winks, the cute nicknames, the obvious attempts to be near me- oh and Harry told me.” She counted on her fingers. The witch looked up when you didn’t respond and stepped forward. “Don’t worry, (Y/n). I fancy you too.” Hermione cupped your cheek with her free hand and landed a kiss to the other one.

“Was it the poem?” You squeaked out, quickly bending down on one knee to pick up the abandoned textbook before standing back up. You winced at the floor as your voice echoed in the now empty courtyard, but smiled a little when Hermione let out a snort.

“It was the flirting, the kindness, the poem and then some.”

“Oh.. So, date? This Friday? I could take you to the Quidditch game?” You rubbed the back of your neck, holding the history book out for her. Your smile turned into a wider on filled with hope as she contemplated her answer.

“You do know the game is Gryffindor vs Slytherin, right?”

“Of course I know. I’m not a dummy.” You held your arm out for her. Your heart skipped a beat when her arm wrapped around yours. You began leading her down the hallway, straight to the library.

“Then yes, I’d love to go.” Hermione leaned into you, her own captivating grin clear as day. The two of you ignored the puzzled glanced from across the student filled corridors as you passed. It was strange to see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin so close to each other.

“It’s a date then! I can’t wait.” You spoke as you separated from her. You hurried to the library door, holding the entrance open and letting the brunette witch go in first. You trailed after her, grinning as you hurried back to her side. “I bet the fist fight with Malfoy really did it.”

“I will not confirm that.”

“I knew it!”

“Hush!”

“Sorry, love. Just excited we got the history out of the way.”

#hp x male reader #hp imagine #hermione granger x male reader #hermione granger imagine #hermione granger #x male reader #male reader #ron weasley #harry potter #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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negasonic-teenage-asshole · 3 years ago

Text

best nurse in town (p.p.)

Word Count: 1582

Synopsis: Spider-Man visits his favorite nurse in New York.

A/N: This is my first fic!!! I really love this, so please please please like/reblog and follow if you would like to see more! Also, yes I did steal a line from Six of Crows because it was too perfect not to.

Any feedback is appreciated and any ideas that you would like to try my hand at writing are welcome!

I do not give permission for this work or any of my works to be reposted, copied, or plagiarized in any way to any sites.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the familiar red and blue of a certain web-slinger at your window. Sighing, you set down your pen and opened a drawer, grabbing the first-aid kit you kept stashed under a few t-shirts and the suture kit from your bedside table while you heard Spider-Man getting situated on your desk.

When you looked up, you saw Spider-Man lounging on your calculus homework, posed like Kate Winslet in Titanic with his suit hanging off his hips.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your abs on my calculus homework, Spidey?" You asked with a smirk, taking out a washcloth and pouring hydrogen peroxide on it, dabbing it on his smaller cuts.

"Well, you know I had to pay the best nurse in town a visit. It would be a shame if I died from my unattended wounds AND denied the most deserving girl in New York an unobstructed view of my chiseled physique." Spider-Man quipped, flinching slightly as you pressed a bit harder on a bigger scrape. "Hey, ease up, please! I'm doing you a favor here! Remember the whole 'unobstructed view' thing?"

"Believe me, I remember." You snorted, sticking your tongue out a bit as you dabbed Neosporin on his clean wounds. Unbeknownst to you, Spider-Man was watching you tend to his wounds so gently, a slight smile creeping across his face as you blew a piece of hair off your forehead for the third time. “Here, let me get that.” He smiled, gently tucking the strand behind your ear. You smiled up at him before going back to his assorted scrapes and gashes, giving him the most butterflies he’s ever felt.

“So, uh, how’s your night so far?” Spider-Man asked, internally groaning at how awkward he sounded. “Well I finished an essay that’s worth 20% of my final grade this year and I think I did really well on it, so I’m pretty happy right now. What about you?” “Eh, just more of the same. Kick bad guy butt, get patched up by the most beautiful girl in New York, then go home and fix whatever broke in action and do it all again tomorrow night!” He shrugged, wincing when the action tugged open an almost-healed wound.

“What broke tonight?” You asked, looking up from the scrape on his ribcage. You were still trying not to get too flustered from being called “the most beautiful girl in New York'' by someone you were sure was the hottest guy in the world. “Ah, just my webshooters. They stop firing after a while, even if I have enough fluid. I just don’t know what's making them jam like that.” He said, sliding off a webshooter and holding it up for inspection. “May I?” You asked, holding out a hand. “I mean, sure.” He said, placing it in your outstretched palm.

“Hm. Something got knocked loose. Hear that?” You shook the webshooter a little, hearing a faint rattle. “But what got knocked loose? There aren’t pieces that should be able to dislodge, besides maybe a wire.” He asked. “I don’t know. Mind if I keep this pair? I have a few ideas, but I’ll have to run some tests.” You asked, not looking up from the webshooter. “As long as you aren’t gonna run around and pretend to be Spider-Man and get hurt, sure.” He shrugged. “Aww, you care about me! You don’t want me to be hurt!” You teased, unknowingly making Spider-Man blush.

“N-no, I just don’t want my name to be tarnished. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He said, clearly flustered. You smirked, picking up the bandages you were applying to his ribs before you got distracted. “Sure. Am I gonna be in trouble if I figure out what’s wrong with these? I don’t want the fearsome Spider-Man, foil to villainy in New York coming down on my ass.” You elbowed him, smiling. He mumbled something you couldn't quite catch, and waved you off when you asked him what he said. “Nah. If anything, I’m gonna be the one in trouble. It’s not exactly the smartest idea for me to be handing my tech to strangers.” He said, now thankfully audibly. “You know, I agree with you.” You chuckled. “Here. You can have some of my goldfish and make sure I don’t get these webs all over my room while I try to fix these.” You held out a bowl full of goldfish you had gotten just before he swung in and picked up his webshooters, grabbing a screwdriver and setting to work.

“Look at you, the little mechanic. I’ll have to hire you as my tech specialist if you can fix those.” He laughed, rolling up his mask to toss a goldfish in his mouth.

You looked over and had to stop yourself from swooning over how perfect his lips looked. It was unfair, really, that he had such full, seemingly soft lips combined with a jawline that could cut diamonds and a physique crafted by the gods themselves.

“You know, you should take a picture. I hear they last longer.” He smirked, and his lips curved in a way that should be illegal. You scrambled desperately for a snarky comeback, a quip, anything to say in response to him catching you staring at him like a dope.

Unfortunately, nothing came to mind and you simply shook your head, embarrassed. You turned away before you could see another devastating grin break like the dawn across his face. “Hey, I think I figured out what’s wrong with the webshooters.” You said, waving him over. You had wrestled open the compartment that held his web cartridges and found a disconnected wire and a shard of glass that blocked the cartridge from connecting to the nozzle.

You stiffened slightly when you felt Spider-Man practically drape himself over your shoulders and your face got even hotter with embarrassment when you felt his chest rumble with laughter. “Oh shut up asshole, I just fixed your problem.” You huffed, reaching to smack his shoulder.

“Ah ah ah! I’m wounded, remember?” He asked, catching your hand and not letting go when you tried to tug your hand out of his grip.

You felt increasingly aware of his proximity to you, especially his mouth. He was practically cheek to cheek with you. Without warning, thoughts of turning and kissing his stupidly perfect mouth ran rampant in your mind.

God, you hoped mind reading wasn’t one of his Spidey-Senses.

“Uh, hello? You were fixing my webshooters? Earth to Y/N.” He said, shaking your hand slightly. As much as you wanted to remain in the fantasy of acting on your impulses, you dragged yourself back to reality. You had already embarrassed yourself enough tonight, you chastised, shaking your head and holding up the webshooter for Spider-Man to see. “Y-yeah, sorry. I was just distracted.” You said, blinking as if to further banish the idea of kissing him. “Was it because I grabbed your hand?” He asked, and you could feel his cocky smirk. “No, actually, you ass. But since we’re on that topic, why did you grab my hand?” You asked, putting down the webshooter and turning slightly to face him.

So I could imagine what it might feel like to do it if we were walking down the street together. To bring myself one step closer to being yours. To barely begin to satisfy the overwhelming urge to grab your perfect face and kiss you, kiss you like I’m drowning and you're the last breath of air I will ever take. Kiss you like I am a mere speck of dust floating in space and you are the most beautiful, violent supernova. Kiss you like you are the only god I will ever worship and I am at your altar, begging, praying for the salvation of your lips.

“Because I knew it would mess with you, and I never miss an opportunity to mess with you.” He said lightly, choking back his confession. It wasn't the first time he had to swallow a proclamation of how in love he was with the girl who couldn’t even know his name, but every time he did it tasted more and more bitter.

You couldn’t tell what he really meant by that, so you force yourself to chuckle and pick the webshooter back up. “Well, I figured out what was wrong. There were shards of glass in front of the cartridges, so they wouldn’t align with the nozzle properly and would be prone to getting knocked around and out of alignment. Also, there was a wire loose on both shooters, so that affected the sensitivity of the touchpad, making it harder for webs to shoot at the right time. You’re just lucky that hasn’t happened when you needed to swing to a building or you’d be wiped off an office’s windows tomorrow morning.`` You smiled, spinning in your chair so that your intertwined hands now rested in your lap. “Damn you're good,” Spider-Man smiled and shook his head. “I'll definitely have to hire you now. How does the salary of a coffee every day sound?” You threw your head back and laughed, a laugh he could have bottled and gotten drunk on every day. “Sounds great, Spidey.”

You stuck out your free hand to shake on it and your eyes twinkled and he fell even more in love with a girl he couldn't have.

#peter parker #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #tom holland #marvel #spider-man #spiderman #y/n #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peterparker/yn #peter parker/reader #spiderman/reader #spider-man/reader

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barnabyleeofslytherin · 4 years ago

Text

Now I know this one'll come as a shock to everyone(haha), but I don't post on this blog much anymore. And I know very well that I don't owe any of you apologies or really explanations for that manner, since, as I'm sure you're all aware, JKR isn't a very good person, and it's reasonable to assume that, many people would wanna distance themselves from her and her work after some not-so-recent thing's she's said and done.

But I would still like to simply come out and generally share the reasons why I'm not quite as active on this blog as I may once have been. I'm on mobile and I haven't slept for about 24 hours(it's around 6am), so I apologise for mistakes and formatting;

First and foremost, I, the Mod, am a gay man. I had started this blog almost as soon as Hogwarts mystery came out (some time around May of 2018 iirc, when I was graduating highschool), and back then I was maybe one of a small handful of gay men in the entire fandom. Back then, being what felt to me, like the only gay man surrounded by a sea of heterosexual and bisexual women felt very alienating to me. I had wanted to interact with people who, like me, were also gay men. I was happy to interact with people who viewed themselves to be women too, of course, but I was often made uncomfortable by these individuals due in part to them being very pushy towards me about how they wanted to date Barnaby.

Second, I'm a Trangender Man. Regardless of if JKR really actively despises my specific group in the transgender community or not, isn't up for debate. She's expressed her opinions on Trans Women, and I stand with my trans siblings(the transgender version of TERFS excluded, I believe they're called Transmeds?) Because of this, I cannot in good conscious, continue to support JRK or the Hogwarts franchise as a whole.

Third, I'm in my early 20s now. When I made this blog, I was a few months off of graduating high school, and a whopping 17 years of age. I'm going to be 21 in less than a month, and I wholeheartedly believe Barnaby and Co. to be children. Hell, they're around 16 in the game now last I'd heard, and while the legal age of consent in Alberta Canada states that 16 year olds can date up to 5 years older, I still cannot force myself to see these children as anything but children. I've lived a lot more life since I first played the game, there's such a gap of life experience between me and an 18 year old of today. These kids are barely older than my little brother. And with there being so much focus on the romantic aspect of the game(again, from what I've seen), I can't comfortably continue playing. (<- Read through it again and I wanna add on to this, I just do not find children attractive in the slightest, as I'm a normal person, who rightfully hates p*dos, and I will block anyone who claims it's okay to be romantically attracted to a child. From a survivor of childhood s*xual ab*se, it's not okay.)

Fourth, my interests and life have changed a lot since I was 17. I'm not interested in Harry Potter anymore, I'm not interested in working with animals anymore. I still love animals, but it's not a career path I want to work. I'm hoping to be a Certified Embalmer within the next year and a half. I just want to pursue adulthood, and become healthy again. I'd even started seeing a therapist before the pandemic to work though my survivors guilt and more. There's a new addition to my family coming later this July(child of my cousin), and one of my Uncles was found dead at 35 literally yesterday (June 20th 2021). I need to be here for my family, and running this blog when I was still active had become a chore.

Sometimes when I get a new notification from this blog, I'll consider deleting it, but this blog was a major part of who I was for about a year. I don't want to just delete it and act as though Harry Potter and the blog weren't major parts of my life, because they were, but they aren't anymore. I plan to leave this blog up, but not use it anymore, as I'd been doing for however many months by now. I will still follow some of my old friends who I'd met through the fandom, because I appreciate the friendship they provided me.

Thank you for bearing with the bone tired, and likely nonsensical ramblings of an almost 21 year old ex-RPer. I mean no harm nor offence to anyone with this post (except jkr) and I genuinely wish everyone still here all the best.

I will be scheduling this post to repost every 6 hours for the rest of today and tomorrow (June 21-22), sorry if it clogs your dashes, I'll tag it with "Scheduled post" for you to block.

~Mod Bennett, the only mod of this blog.

#long post #mod talks #death mention #p*do mention

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brockadoodles · 4 years ago

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this is me trying - n. mackinnon

AN: Don’t be fooled by the cute gif, this is ANGST, AGNST, and more ANGST. But y’all asked for this so. Here’s another one of the folklore series. It’s a repost, but definitely let me know what you think!

Word Count: 2190

Warnings: Drinking, angst

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here Pouring out my heart to a stranger But I didn’t pour the whiskey

When you left Denver, you had no plans of coming back. You made peace with your decision to leave Nate because you felt in your heart that it was the right one at the time. Nate was intense but nothing was as impeding as the freight train of emotions that hit your body at once when you fell too hard for him, too fast. You did what any cowardly person would, you followed your fears all the way out of town, hoping for that to be the solution to mend the destruction inflicted on your heart that you were only to blame for.

You thought Los Angeles would bring back who you were before Nate, instead, it chewed you up and spit you out like so many before you who went there, hoping for a glamorous reality that only existed in fiction. Instead of new dreams, you had an overpriced apartment you hated that felt cold at night, and loneliness in your heart you had accepted would be there forever. You were haunted by regret, the memory of leaving Nate standing alone in his kitchen as you left him, begging you to stay. He tried to tell you it was in your head, that you weren’t feeling too much, that he loved you as much as you loved him, but you wouldn’t listen. Los Angeles gave you one thing you were thankful for, even if it didn’t feel that way in the time you had been there and that was the realization of your mistake.

“I don’t understand how you can tell me you’re in love with me and then just decide to leave?” Nate sighed, doing everything he could to understand what you were saying to him. He knew things had been hard, the season was long, but you never flinched at any of the trials of his career. He was so in love with you it hurt, his love was a strange feeling in his own heart, he didn’t know if he would ever find someone until he found you and he just knew.

You wrapped your arms around your body, a physical representation of the pain you were trying to shield yourself from, a heartache that at the time felt necessary. Nate was your entire world, you lost yourself in him and your relationship and it terrified you. It was a love that was too good, where you were pulled off on the side of the road looking at a view, ten seconds away from the drop off that never came. You wanted to get ahead of it, break it off before it broke you.

“I do love you, Nate, but it’s too much. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” You cried, begging him to understand.

Nate tentatively took a step toward you, reaching slowly to pull your hand into his.

“You’re the most amazing person I know. You have a dream that you’ve built on your own, and you do a damn good job of it. You care about the people around you, with your heart that loves people deeply. Everything about you is beautiful. You make me feel like nothing else matters, I would give everything up tomorrow if you asked. Please, don’t do this to us.”

You sobbed at his words, looking into his eyes that were watery with tears. You squeezed his hand, unlacing your fingers from his. You knew what you had to do, you couldn’t be in Denver anymore. You couldn’t see his face everywhere, you had to figure out who you were.

“I can’t be that person, Nate. I don’t know who that is. I’m sorry, you have to let me go.” You whispered, smiling sadly at him.

You didn’t look back when you left his condo, you couldn’t allow yourself the last glimpse of him that you didn’t deserve. You knew if you did, you would have stayed. Instead, you walked to your car, packed full of your belongings. The tears didn’t stop flowing the entire time you drove toward the freeway, away from Denver and love you didn’t know if you’d ever find again.

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

It had been six months, time that should have been enough to get over a breakup that you were the cause of. You were standing on a rooftop, looking out at the pink and orange sky that was settled between the LA skyline. A drink was sitting on the ledge, untouched in front of you, the water droplets on the glass from the ice that was melting. Everyone around you seemed so happy to be there drinks flowing and a steady noise from the constant chatter as they all celebrated your friend’s new engagement. You sighed, opening your phone as you debated slipping out early. You felt like an open wound, your thoughts were still racing over Nate, clouding your judgment and making it so that you couldn’t even be present for an event that deserved your full attention.

When the car pulled up to your building, you felt like you were on auto-pilot as you thanked the driver, pulling out your keys before entering the lobby. As you opened the door to your apartment, you felt your eyes get heavy. You slipped off your heels, leaving them by the door as you continued inside. You slowly worked through your night routine, each step of it committed to muscle memory. You weren’t fully there, all you could think about was Nate.

You made yourself a cup of tea in an attempt to wind yourself down, the cup warm in your hands as you crawled into your bed. Everything reminded you of him, the way you carefully got into bed, as if he was still peacefully sleeping on the other side and you didn’t want to wake him, the way you mentally said goodnight to him, even if you were just talking to his ghost, each little inconsequential piece of your life led back to him, no matter how hard you tried to forget.

You felt so ahead of him at the time, so sure that what you were doing was right for both of you. The fear of a future with him overtook everything, the worries slowly started to replace comfort. You laid in bed that night, watching as time passed slowly while you thought intently about the last year of your life. You mentally berated yourself, trying to pinpoint exactly where it went wrong, combing through your memories for any signs that Nate gave that could have made you so insecure.

The problem was that those signs were never there because Nate had never done anything wrong. He was an intense person, giving his all into everything he did, including you. Nate may not have been the type to show his feelings with superficial romantic gestures, he rarely surprised you with flowers, he didn’t take you on fancy dates, he took painfully long to say that he loved you. Anyone who didn’t know him probably would write him off as a lost cause, a young guy who didn’t know how to give himself to someone else. They had it all wrong though, Nate may not have been public about his affection, but he showed how much he cared in other ways. You felt his love in the way that he held you close after a tough loss, it was in the way he smiled softly at you when you weren’t looking, it was the way that he was your biggest supporter, always proud of your accomplishments and the person that you were. It was the way he was so sure about you meeting his family and Sid, knowing if you could get along with them, that you were probably the one for him.

You thought back to that summer in Cole Harbour. Tears silently rolling down your cheeks as you remembered what Sidney had said to you that weekend.

“He’s better with you, ya know. He’s more tolerable,” Sid jokes, walking up to you with a smile. You turned to look at him before your eyes trailed back to Nate, your heart full of nothing but affection for the man you had the privilege of getting to know. “But actually, not sure I’ll like him as much if you ever leave. You’re everything to him.” You looked at Sid, smiling softly at him. You didn’t respond because at the time you didn’t need to, the way you loved him was evident that weekend, it was unspoken.

You never considered what Nate wanted. Looking back on it, you completely disregarded any feelings about you leaving, you never even gave him a chance to speak as you walked out his front door. The pressure created in your own mind, conning you into leaving a relationship that you were perfectly happy to be in only to later never let you grieve over what you did to him. You were selfish and you decided that enough was enough, you needed to forget about the failed attempt at moving on, you needed to go home.

Glancing at the clock, you saw that it was just nearing 4 am, dimly lit reflections from the buildings were sneaking into your windows as the city was still asleep. It was a bad idea, one that came about from six months of never feeling at peace, your mind constantly going in circles. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you packed a small bag and left LA, settling in for a long drive back to a painfully familiar place.

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

As soon as you drove into the city, feelings of nostalgia calmed you. You felt the most at peace than you had in a long time, a false sense of hope filling your heart, not knowing that in a few hours you’d finally break.

You didn’t have a plan as you drove the familiar route to the place you once shared together, the streets unchanged as you passed by. It was dark, and you had no idea if he was even in town but it didn’t matter, you had to try. When you got close to the house, your heart sank. A beautiful woman was getting into a car in the driveway. Of course, he had moved on, why wouldn’t he when it had been so long? You drove away from the house quickly, the pieces of your heart shattering as you went to the one place in Denver where you knew you’d have a few hours to just forget.

You sat at a dimly lit bar in downtown Denver, flakes of snow littered in your hair from the winter conditions you couldn’t forget if you tried. Your dark anorak jacket was carefully placed on the stool beside you, the wool scarf that had lost the scent of Nate a long time ago still carefully wrapped around your neck, keeping your body warm and comforted. Whiskey sours were placed in front of you far too frequently for anyone that was supposed to be put together. You poured your heart out to a stranger, details blurring together as you spoke to the man next to you who probably couldn’t care less about your problems. Your words were slurring as you crawled deeper into your own mind, over analyzing each moment of your relationship with Nate and how you got to this point of being in the same town and not knowing each other anymore.

You shakily pulled out your phone, debatably one whiskey sour too many from any sort of rational decision. You missed him, the kind of longing where your whole body aches. You sat in the nearly empty bar, minutes from the last call, ringing in your heart that was heavy enough to lead to collapse.

You opened the familiar contact, the red heart still next to his name, taunting you as you remember the childlike crush you had when you put it there. You knew he wouldn’t pick up, not after what you did, but if you couldn’t be with him, you wanted to at least try one more time to rectify the mistakes you made.

“Nate I- god. I miss you, I’m sitting here at this bar, and all I can think about is the potential we had that I fucked up. I feel like I’m the outsider in this crowded party I wasn’t invited to. All I wanted was you and I fucked it up, baby. I-god.” You cried out into his voicemail, not unfamiliar to the desperation in your voice.

“I guess this is me trying ya know? I want to make it right, to make you happy, to love you like I was so scared to before. I-I’ll be here, waiting.” You set your phone down, shaky hands wiping tears from your cheeks. You waited there until the night grew cold and the bartender had to help you into an Uber home, for a call that would never come.

#nathan mackinnon #nate mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon fic #avalanche fic

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emergingsentiments · 3 years ago

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Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha: Episodes 5 and 6 (Repost)

“The problem with some people is that when they aren't drunk they're sober.” — William Butler Yeats

With Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha’s premise largely settled, its third pair of episodes move forward to deal with the aftermath of the previous week’s intoxication. Drunk and blacked out by the strength of alcohol, Hyejin wakes up next to Dusik. It’s as much a shock to her as it is to Gongjin’s tight-knit community, who, being in the right place and time, discover the issue and spread the rumor like wildfire. It’s a hilarious sequence, one that includes an embarrassing recollection of the good dentist’s trippy, drunken ways. It also sets up awkward conversations with the townsfolk, especially with Dusik being the other half of the scandal.

Hyejin wants to squelch the gossip. Dusik, however, seems cavalier about it. Their different attitudes inform much of the tension that fills Episode 5. What Homcha does so well at this juncture, however, is to pit these contrasting views, reactions, and responses of our leads to challenge our own. Hyejin, for instance, thinks of herself so highly as a woman of the city that she wouldn’t be caught dead being associated with Dusik, let alone rumored to have slept with him. It’s an uncomfortable judgment made against the seemingly flawless Renaissance man of Gongjin. He doesn’t take it lightly and calls out Hyejin for being narrow-minded.

But in hindsight, it’s not farfetched to sympathize with Hyejin. When we find out her condescension towards Dusik was not warranted given the man’s prestigious educational background, we also learn of her experience being looked down upon by a man. The man also happened to be her ex-boyfriend. This painful memory — unearthed by Miseon’s tactlessness — reveals the motives behind Hyejin’s views. She’s not just a woman driven by ambition and defined by material success. She’s not just a daughter grieving the early death of a mother. She’s also a human being that had to deal with social disadvantages, which led to her being ridiculed. Those negative experiences continue to influence and shape her persona seen best in her insecurities.

Dusik — well-read and well-educated — should have been the first person to recognize the scars behind Hyejin’s wounded ways. Hyejin is entitled to feel the way she does, without a man he’s practically just met prodding her to come out of her ‘shell’. This is where Dusik’s single-mindedness becomes a flaw. After all, he has his own skeletons in the closet. He knows enough about loss and pain to recognize its symptoms in other people. He surely would have sensed how uncomfortable Hyejin is being the subject of a small town’s raunchy rumors. There’s something else lurking behind the Dusik’s unbridled heroism and his confusing and flippant behavior around Hyejin. For instance, when Cheonjae suggests he finds a partner, he brushes it off and changes the conversation. Why the evasion? Why these apprehensions?

Like any good show, Homcha isn’t in any hurry to give answers. But we do get clues. First, there is that mysterious picture that bookmarks one of Dusik’s books. It’s probably connected to another hint — his visits to a shrink concerning a recurring nightmare. Dusik’s past looms ominously over his present. Lastly, we learn that summer night drinking fancy wine didn’t end only with a stoned Hyejin wrecking hangover havoc across Gongjin’s empty evening streets. It was capped with something less theatrical but more intimate — a kiss.

Kisses, they say, are far more intoxicating. And its effects are clear on both our dentist and jack-of-all-trades on Episode 6. Now that Hyejin remembers their lips-to-lips, we get to understand a little more about Dusik’s strategy. If he has been deliberately coy, it was an attempt to bury Hyejin’s memory of that kiss. But Dusik being Dusik, he pursues in taking down Hyejin’s defenses. If Hyejin can be contrary as a woman, then Dusik can be contradictory with his dilly-dallying, too. His newfound philosophy revolves around the idea of taking risks, crossing boundaries, getting drenched in the rain every now and then. It’s a romantic prospect but one that reduces Hyejin to another one of Dusik’s projects it seems. And yet, it’s an approach that doesn’t seem out of character, too.

Homcha subtly peels away the perfect facade of Mr. Hong, highlighting the man’s little foibles with every episode. Yes, he’s tremendously kind. Yes, he’s exceptionally good at everything. But he’s human, too, with anxieties and errors in judgment. We see more of the latter whenever he’s around Hyejin, which tells me behind the gallant exterior of Gongjin’s favorite son is a man either unsure of how to dance with a woman he obviously likes or afraid to step on his lover’s feet. Why? He knows the cha cha cha takes practice, right, and a willing partner, too? Had he failed in this dance before?

Hyejin yields to Dusik’s credo but not fully. She is her own woman, after all. Yes, she gets jealous and annoyed with Dusik’s cheekiness. But she can also be defiant by letting everyone know her displeasure at being rumored as Sikhye or in telling off Dusik as he tried to bring Juri home. Dusik will have to deal with Hyejin’s tantrums because he simply cannot stubbornly “fix” her or “work” on her as a side hustle. We’re talking about two people navigating the unsteady paths of life and love as grown-ups. They’ll need to grope the steps of their choreography. That takes time.

But they’ll have to get it right, soon. Ji Seong-hyun (Lee Sang-yi) has arrived in town, which makes for interesting love triangle fodder. Seonghyun, however, is exceptionally likable. A bit naive and with a megawatt smile, he also offers the unpleasant advantage of having known Hyejin for longer, including being a witness to that pivotal rejection she suffered from her ex. While we all know the fate of second leads, I look forward to how Seonghyun’s presence shifts dynamics and allegiances in a town known for impulsive, gossip-mongering residents. Does he prance away with the lady? Or will Cinderella’s final dance be with Dusik?

Speaking of dancing, we see a lot of it in arguably one of the show’s highlights so far — the festival. It’s an event that brings together our favorite characters in a wholesomely wild and merry night. With all of them in one stage, it’s easier to appreciate how Homcha has successfully balanced all the story arcs so far.

But it’s becoming clear Gongjin’s narratives, though varied, are all threaded by one thing — pain.

The drama sheds light on these aches using both humor and gravitas. With Miseon, we find comic relief in her frequent, ill-timed, and embarrassing stomach aches. Juri’s pain, on the other hand, draws close comparison with Hyejin’s loss of her mother. Her rebelliousness is rooted in the stifling parenting of Cheonjae who tries too hard to offer both father and mother figures to Juri. It’s a father-daughter struggle that sees Cheonjae accepting Juri becoming her own young lady, leaving behind his own dreams to support Juri’s own.

And of course, there’s Hwajung and Youngguk’s post-divorce relationship, one complicated further with the return to Gongjin of Youngguk’s first love, Cho-Hui (Hong Ji-Hee). It’s an arrival that isn’t exactly welcome, and one that causes Hwajung to clench her jaws and writhe in pain. Like Seonghyun, Chohui can win a congeniality award with her smile. Hwajung describes her as kind to a fault. But there’s something amiss with this love triangle, and if theories prove true, we may be in for a surprise.

See, underneath the picturesque and coastal idyll of Gongjin are tales of trauma and tragedy. We sense that the town’s folksy air draws its warmth from the burning embers of its people’s pasts. Homcha is unafraid to weave the growing affections between Mr. Hong and Dr. Yoong using these sorrow-tainted fabrics, while only lightly reassuring us that even yesterdays have tomorrows. Surrounding Dusik and Hyejin are equally deep entanglements of human relationships — from a man trying to be the best father for her daughter to an iron-willed lady silently figuring out her place in the present as the past returns. It’s interesting how all these stories will tie together in the coming weeks.

For now, we can only make assumptions in search of our own catharsis. But we will have to be hurt, too. If Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha claims to offer healing, then we must get wounds first, right?

#hometown cha cha cha #homcha #kim seon ho #shin min ah #korean drama #kdrama #갯마을 차차차

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clan-sayeed-fic · 4 years ago

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Business (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Reposting because of the issue with tags, hopefully it works..

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

Warnings: none

Rating: Mature

Author's note: I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

Finally, the first chapter is out for you to read 😂 Forgive me for so many descriptions in this one, but I really want to make everything clear for you.

Also, prepare yourself for a slow burn throughout this story 💕

~ 1500 words

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

Chapter 1

The world has never been a peaceful place.

The rule of hierarchy was present between species since the dawn of time. But finally, the opportunity for humans has arrived, making them lords of the earth. Somehow the evolution decided to let those fragile creatures gain the knowledge that put them above others.

So humans kept enjoying life to the fullest, drawing benefits from the earth. But year after year, they were not giving anything in return. The dominant species became the direct danger to the planet, which gave them life.

That's when nature decided to speak up.

When the sky above humans' heads was peaceful, the danger crept up in the shadows. A new species created in the image of humans placed itself at the end of the food chain.

Bloodsucking monsters started walking the earth, killing those to whom they belonged not so long ago. But the perspective had been irreversibly changed since the day of their rebirth as immortals.

Worth remembering is that nature always finds a way to keep the system in balance. That's how another rule has been created on the purpose of this new world.

It says that even the best hunter may one day become the prey.

***

Kamilah Sayeed was working late in her office.

Over the years, she learned that the best time for her to work was during late hours. Especially after, the building emptied itself, leaving her alone, free from unnecessary conversations with coworkers.

New York was sleeping sweetly behind the windows when the CEO of Ahmanet Financial was still very much awake. The sound of fast tapping of the keyboard filled the room as Kamilah's eyes were moving quickly on new documents in search of any mistakes.

Her mind was lost in work, focusing all attention on the bright screen in front of her.

She was just looking through the database of her company when the phone ringing pierced through her ears, killing the silence she was worshipping so much.

The woman sighed deeply, taking a quick look at the phone. She stopped tapping right after noticing Adrian's name on the screen, realizing that the call must have been urgent. Otherwise, he would not bother her at this hour.

"Yes?" Kamilah spoke after putting on a speakerphone, hardly hiding her icy tone.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," he said politely, listening to the noise of tapping, "your work process, I assume."

"Get on with it, Adrian," she scowled, rolling her eyes.

Kamilah was thankful that her best friend was not able to see this reaction of hers. She was already imagining a sarcastic comment he would make about her attitude.

"It's about tomorrow's meeting," Adrian knew too well when it was the right time to end teasing. "Something came up out of sudden, so, unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Paine won't be available."

The woman sighed again, clearly annoyed this time, leaning back on her chair. Hands moved to her hair as she brushed it with her fingers, trying to remain calm.

"So the meeting is canceled," she stated, about to hang up, but Adrian intervened just in time.

"No, no," he paused, making sure she was still there. "They informed me about their absence, but the meeting is still on the top list of our day."

The words got her attention as she looked at the screen once again, composing herself on the seat.

"How is that possible?" she masked curiosity with her emotionless tone.

"They will send their daughter in return," Adrian answered, patiently waiting for her feedback.

Kamilah's eyes moved from the phone, wandering over the desk to the documents she had prepared for the meeting a while ago.

"Then, so be it," she answered shortly before hanging up.

A sly smile danced in the corner of her mouth when she created a new file. Her fingers were hitting the keyboard faster than before, disturbing silence of the night.

A spark grew in her eyes as she muttered to herself.

"Finally, something exciting."

***

Kamilah was standing near the window in the conference room, looking down at the street. Her eyes stopped at the long, black limousine which was shining in the brightness of the sun right by the enormous building of Ahmanet Financial.

It was just a matter of time when paparazzi went entirely crazy over their point of interest, just getting out of the car. A young woman hidden behind shaded spectacles, with her body covered with a big scarf, was carefully escorted by her personal security guards.

Immediately, the pavement glowed with intensely flashing cameras from every side of it. Reporters kept taking pictures long after the whole crew disappeared inside the building as if they were still hoping for a good photograph for their articles.

"Guess who's just arrived," Kamilah turned to Adrian who smiled cheerfully.

Surname Paine was well known in New York City as the most successful investor. Their fame went back in centuries. Generation after generation, family members were proving the worth of this name, making them highly valuable associates.

They had been working with vampires for ages. And by doing so, Paines remained as the only family in the city that could stay alive with this kind of knowledge. What's interesting, not many were aware of what started their cooperation with the vampires' world to begin with.

But... there was a catch.

Because of the threat that came with this kind of business, Paines had restricted rules when it went to choosing the companies they would decide to work with. It was not so easy to gain their trust, and it took a lot of patience.

Kamilah Sayeed was always prepared when it went to her new, potential associates. Also, in this case, she took her time to gather all valuable information about Mr. and Mrs. Paine. Everything about their educational and career path. She knew their family tree as if it was her own.

The CEO of Ahmanet Financial used to study her business associates in a way as she thought of them as both: her future ally,

or enemy.

What she was not prepared for in this situation was their daughter.

She could not find anything significant about this girl, so everything came down to her age. She was 22 years old, just graduated college, this part made Kamilah particularly anxious about the meeting since she expected to be taken seriously.

And hated having her time wasted.

Paines made sure that their daughter had some privacy, even though it was the hardest part to achieve. Because of the kind of life they lived, the girl was daily exposed to speculations created by paparazzi.

In their eyes, she was rated as another spoiled by influential parents kid.

What's more, the girl was always seen in the company of at least one bodyguard. With her face covered as much as it was possible, not even showing her eyes.

Paine's daughter was indeed a mysterious human thing.

At that moment, the doors were opened by the assistant who invited guests to the conference room. Kamilah turned away from the window, facing this average height woman who stepped inside. At the same time, Adrian stood up to greet the whole crew with a smile and warm words.

Only after the doors were closed again, Paine's daughter started slowly taking off her scarf and glasses. By doing so, she revealed her long, wavy, blonde hair that fell freely on her shoulders and back. Her skin was light and a little blushy from the rush that she was in earlier while trying to avoid the paparazzi.

Her eyes green, radiating.

The girl mumbled a quiet, thank you, to the guard who took glasses away from her. After doing so, she turned all her attention to both CEOs standing in the middle of the room.

Mesmerized by the view.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," finally Adrian snapped out of his astonishment and took a few steps toward the girl. Her security guards tensed slightly, watching his moves, "Amelia Paine," he extended a hand to greet her.

"Oh," she returned the gesture, shaking his hand lightly. "Please, just Amy."

She smiled delightfully, spreading warmth all over the room. The girl had this unusual for her age confidence going on. It was clear that this situation was not making her uncomfortable or nervous. As if she was prepared for this from the moment of her birth.

Her eyes moved behind Adrian's back eloquently, searching for another person she was supposed to meet with.

The woman approached her gracefully, intensely staring at the girl with her chestnut eyes, searching for a hint of hesitation. Kamilah was well aware of how influential she and Adrian were in this industry.

And yet, it made no impression on this girl.

"It is a pleasure, indeed," she said skeptically, keeping eye contact. "May I introduce myself..."

"Kamilah Sayeed," Amy's soft voice echoed in woman's ears, piercing deep inside. "Don't worry, I did my homework for today."

Truly bold words followed by the most innocent look.

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

Next chapter: 2

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tag list: @cheeto-choices @kamilah-is-queen @ariaminsinclair @helpconfusedpersonhere @ayushixo

#bloodbound fic #choices fanfiction #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #kamilah bloodbound #choices bloodbound #bloodbound mc #kamilah bb #mc bb

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dnfisgay · 4 years ago

Text

Mr. Loverman - Chapter 1

a/n: hey! welcome to my first fic on here! i kinda feel like i’m back in freshman year writing youtube rpf but hey! we’re all regressing anyway aren’t we? this is a dreamnotfound fic based on the online personas of georgenotfound and dream. this is in no way meant to pressure them or their relationship, and if either of them say they’re uncomfortable with fanfiction i’ll take this down! but anyway at the beginning of every chapter there will be a content warning section and a summary if needed, or if any plot altering events happen during the possibly triggering sections. i hope y’all enjoy Mr. Loverman, a fic based on the song by Ricky Montgomery.

THIS IS MY OWN WORK. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER BLOGS/SITES WITHOUT PERMISSION. DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN.

Prologue

Sometimes, a simple decision is what changes your life the most. Sometimes, a tragedy is a blessing in disguise. Not always, but enough of the time for a few lucky people to benefit. We were some of those people. A simple decision changed... everything. Everyone. Changed me, changed him. Sometimes, we regret those decisions. Other times, they’re the best thing that’s ever happened. We made history together. We made our own history. We changed ourselves for the better. Part of it was born of tragedy, of pain and suffering, of wrong-place-wrong-time. But after, we were born anew. A butterfly emerging from fog.

The rainbow after a storm. A soft mist at the edge of a violent fall. Our own little refuge within the storm. We made history together, you and me.

“I've shattered now, I'm spilling out Upon this linoleum ground I'm reeling in my brain again Before it can get back to you Oh, what am I supposed to do without you?”

Content Warnings: none

Word count: 1,520

Chapter One - A New Chapter Of Us

“What if we moved in together?”

George laughed.

‘What? You’re joking.”

“No! I’m totally serious!” Dream said, laying on his bed. “Think about it. You could get a work visa, come live with me, and we can make videos together! Like vlogs and stuff! You can get away from your family, and I… well I get you! It’s obviously a win-win situation.”

“Vlogs? You don’t even show your face.”

“Oh… yeah. Well, whatever! I’ll do a face reveal. Please, George!”

George’s hesitance showed, making Dream bounce on his knees on the bed, literally begging him.

“Please George! Please!” he laughed, waiting for him to agree. George stayed silent, trying to hide his smile.

“I guess you don’t love me then… oh bother,” Dream fake pouted at him, pretending to cry, rubbing his eyes to make them red. He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Okay, alright, you wore me down,” George said. “Looks like I’m going to Florida!”

---

It’d been three months since Dream asked George to move in with him, and every day he’d sent him pictures of their place. Their place. He doesn’t know why that made him so happy to hear, especially coming from Dream. When he showed George the lounge and texted him “our living room :D,” he felt like his whole entire body was lit ablaze. Like a firework on the Fourth of July -- how American of you already, George, he could hear Dream’s voice saying. It felt like when his first girlfriend told him I love you for the first time. Except... not that. Obviously not that.

And the day was finally here, after waiting for the visa to get approved, and video chats, and seeing only pictures, it was finally going to be their place. Dream and George’s place. There would be no more lagging video or Discord crashing on them. If the internet went out, he’d still be in the next room over. He’d still be his.

Well, not his. But he’d be there. George felt the need to explain himself even in his own head.

The sound of Dream’s Discord ringer cut through his thoughts, too loud for his own good. He stretched over to his desk and answered, turning his camera on too.

“Georgie!” Dream said, bouncing with excitement. “Guess what tomorrow is, Georgie.” He leaned forward on his desk, wiggling his eyebrows at George.

George feigned confusion. “I don’t know, Dream. What’s tomorrow?”

Dream pouted. “Are you being serious right now? Do you really not remember?”

“Dream! I’m literally packing right now!”

“I’m litch-rally packing right now!” Dream mocked, impersonating George’s British accent. George stared him down while Dream was folded over laughing.

“It’s not too late for me to change my mind, you know.”

“Actually, it is. Work visas have to be used or you’ll get a fine,” Dream said, chewing loudly on what looked like — popcorn? God, Americans were weird.

“Is that actually true or did you just make that up so I have no choice but to come?”

Dream looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “...Maybe.” George laughed silently, smiling to himself. He would never say it out loud, but he loved Dream. He didn’t know what made him keep it to himself when Dream all but shouted it from the rooftops, but something inside of him felt it was too real to be said. Dream knew it was true, and that was good enough, right?

“Did you want to watch me pack?” George said, folding another one of his shirts and placing it in the box. Dream wasn’t paying attention. He was messing with something on his desk, his tongue sticking out and his eyebrows furrowed so tightly you could barely see his eyes. George loved his eyes, they were a warm pale green color that fit him perfectly. George snapped his fingers at Dream and asked if he was listening.

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m sorry,” Dream looked sheepish, worried. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, I just zone out sometimes, I’m really sorr—“

“Dream, Dream, calm down. It’s okay,” George smiled. “I’m not mad. Did you want me to ask the question again?”

“Please.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch me pack,” he asked, knowing which answer he hoped for.

“Ooh, can I stay on?” Dream looked giddy as he asked. “I wanna tell you about my new bedwars record.”

“Sounds perfect, Dream.”

---

It took him two more hours to finish packing up his clothes, bathroom necessities, and shoes, spare for the ones he needed on the plane. Dream had talked on and on for the whole two hours, about bedwars and what he was going to make for dinner, and how his mom sent him over homemade banana bread the other day. And even Patches made an appearance after a while.

“Oh my God, Patches! I get to meet Patches! You know Dream, I’m kind of more excited to meet her than I am you.”

“Haha, very funny,” Dream cooed. “Not like Patches will make you dinner or comfort you when you have nightmares.

“Nightmares? I do not have nightmares!” George defended, despite the fact he did definitely have nightmares. And he knew Dream knew that, he’d been the one called at 4 in the morning and the one who talked George back to sleep. It was all part of the game, though, the cat and mouse they had going on. He wondered who was the cat and who was the mouse

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Georgie. Oh, wait,” Dream smirked, laughing his ass off. George gasped and tossed his dirty shirt at his webcam, not minding the fact that it was still on his body and that he was now shirtless in his cold room.

“Hey! I wanna see the view! You look sexy with your hair messed up like that.”

“Haha, very funny,” George fake laughed, though Dream didn’t. He usually laughed after jokes like that. What made this one different? “If I wasn’t so bloody cold right now I’d leave it on there. Make you suffer all alone under there.” He heard Dream whimper, and he didn’t know what it was, but it made his stomach churn. “But, I am very, very freezing right now.”

He pulled the shirt off the webcam, covering his chest with the fabric. “There. You have been freed,” he said, slipping his shirt back on. He swore he saw Dream’s eyes linger on the strip of skin still exposed on his stomach before he pulled it down.

“I’m gonna go make some dinner,” George said, checking the time on his phone. “What, it’s already 9? Jesus. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go make some cereal real quick, stay on the call.”

George put Dream’s volume loud enough that he could hear it decently from across the flat. Meaning, Dream could also hear him burning himself.

“Did you just burn yourself? Aren’t you making cereal?”

“Um…maybe?” he said, shouting over the cold running water. “I may have accidentally left the oven on from when I made salmon last night.”

“Last night?” Dream screamed in horror. “Genuinely, how are you not dead yet?”

“I don’t know!” he said, wincing and drying off his hand before grabbing his bowl of cereal. Well, it wasn’t a bowl, but a large Tupperware container.

“Is that Tupperware?” Dream asked as he sat down at his desk.

“It was the easiest thing to unpack.”

George ate his cereal in silence for a few minutes, drinking down the last bit of the sugary milk before asking “What were you staring at earlier? When you got distracted.”

It took Dream a few seconds, but he finally remembered. “Oh! This!” He pulled out a tiny crossbow made of pencils and shot a rubber band at his camera.

“That’s actually so sick,” George said, staring more intently at his screen to get a closer look. Dream went off on a tangent about it, showing him the mechanics and everything it could shoot. He swore he’d have another one for George by the time he got home. Home. He liked that word coming out of Dream’s mouth. He liked hearing it about himself.

Eventually, it got too late for George to be up anymore. His flight left in 7 hours and he still needed to pack his PC. Dream pouted when he told him he had to go, but perked back up when he remembered the next time he’d see George, he’d be able to hug him! He was all but forcing his body to get tired after that.

“Wake me up if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Georgie,” Dream smiled. This time, he didn't sound teasing. He sounded genuine, more genuine than he’d heard in a long time.

“I… admire you too, Dream.” George’s face went flush and hot, his cheeks blotchy with pink and peach.

“Psh! When are you ever gonna say it back?”

“Never, I thought we’d been over this.”

“Mark my words, Georgie. I will get you to say it back sooner or later.”

Yeah, right.

---

a/n: so! that was the first chapter of Mr. Loverman! i’d love any feedback and opinions y’all have! the next chapter should be up in a few days, and i even have art from one of my lovely twitter mutuals coming! i hope everyone enjoyed! :D feel free to reblog<3

Chapter 2 - Linoleum Ground (date TBD)

#mrloverman #dreamnotfound #dream smp #dream #georgenotfound #sapnap #youtube rpf #dream team #minecraft youtube #mcyt #chaptered fic #chaptered #all fics

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songtoyou · 4 years ago

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Chapter Six: Don’t You Pretend

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC)

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always that one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to openly communicate with one another, but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either are willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions the death of a loved one.

Word Count: 1,397

Author’s Note: It has been forever since I have updated this story. I was not sure where I wanted to take it since the I posted the last chapter. For this chapter, I wanted to explore more into Raina’s relationship with her dad and how supportive Chris is. So this chapter is basically Chris being a supportive boyfriend to his girlfriend.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family, and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.

Chris and Raina did their best to keep their new relationship quiet. While his mother and siblings knew of the couple’s new relationship status, along with Raina’s father, they wanted to keep it quiet for the time being. Both wanted to enjoy the “honeymoon” stage without the prying eyes of the media and fans.

While Chris dreaded the media intrusion, it was the fans Raina was more worried about. Flashbacks of her time with Tom were making the singer have bouts of PTSD. Raina feared that if the fans found out that she was dating Chris, they (mostly his fans, let’s be honest) would be brutal towards her, just like Tom’s fans.

She asked Chris one night what he would do if his fans outright attacked her via social media. He was stumped at the question at first.

“Like, if you see fans sending me hate though…I don’t know, Twitter, would you respond? Would you say something? Are you comfortable with saying anything if there is hate towards me because I am now dating you?” Raina asked, worried about his answer.

“I mean, yeah, I would say something,” Chris replied, but Raina could detect the unsureness in his voice. “What?” Chris asked when he saw the look you gave him.

“You saw how some of the fans were towards Jenny. They said hateful things about her, and you didn’t do anything to defend her or your relationship. What makes me different?” Raina pushed. She wanted to get it all out—no bullshit between Chris and her.

Chris sighed. “I can fully admit that I fucked up when it came to my relationship with Jenny. I didn’t protect her like I should have when we began dating. It was the first public relationship I had been in a long while. However, that is no excuse. The difference between you and Jenny is that 1.) I love you. I love you so much. So I would never stand for anyone hating on you, and 2.) I know that once the fans see that our relationship is real and not some Hollywood PR bullshit, that they will support us.”

Raina took in a deep breath and let it out. She leaned into Chris, and he wrapped his arms around her and placed a kiss on her head. “I like that you aren’t as pessimistic as me. That is encouraging and helps me to ease my anxiety,” she said to him.

“We got this, Raina. We will make it through the hard part, trust me.”

Three weeks. That was how long Chris and Raina were able to hide their relationship. It was a nice quiet three weeks between the two before the media storm eventually hit. The couple became inundated with calls from the media, whether it be questions about their relationship or begging for an interview. Both PR reps denied requests for interviews or commented on the couple’s relationship.

As Raina expected, the fans were in a tizzy. Once again, Raina’s fans were super supportive of her relationship with Chris; however, some were cautious for her as they worried that Chris’s reputation as a “womanizer” would tarnish her image somewhat. With Chris, his fans were split down the middle, with some showing support, while others proceeded to throw hate towards Raina’s way. Thankfully, her fans (and some fans of Chris) would immediately step in and call out the haters.

Nevertheless, Raina would do her best to ignore the vitriol thrown her way and go about her life. She finally got the man of her dreams, and no one was going to mess that up. She would continue to focus on Moulin Rouge, which was her top priority, and not focus on any negativity.

Also, Raina’s dad was coming into town for his birthday and see the show. She was excited to see him as he mostly stayed up in Long Island. He was not one to venture into the city very often.

After declining Raina’s offer to drive him herself or have her driver bring him, George opted to drive into the city. It was rather odd to Raina, considering that her father hated having to drive on the freeway. But she shrugged it off and deemed it a good thing that her father was getting out of Long Island for a while.

However, Raina could not put it past her that something was off with her dad.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked Raina as he sat on her couch watching television.

Raina sat down next to Chris. He noticed she kept looking down at her cellphone. “My dad just sent a text, saying he will meet us at the restaurant.”

Chris was puzzled. “Yeah, so…”

“So, my dad doesn’t know how to text. He’s not a texter. Texting and George Morrison do not go hand-in-hand. What gives?” Raina wondered in distress. “Did you teach him how to text?”

“No,” Chris responded, trying to hold back his laughter. “Come on, Raina, he was bound to learn how to text sometime. This a good thing. That way, you guys can text each other now.”

Raina merely shrugged her shoulders. “I guess.”

“You’re very cute; you know that, right,” Chris stated, leaning over for a kiss, which she gave willingly.

Unfortunately, two hours later, Raina was back at it with worrying. “Ah-ha! Look at this new text, Chris. Read what it says. Go on, read it!” she ordered and handed Chris the cellphone.

Dad: We made it in safe, but rather late. Now at the hotel. We are going to eat in and call it a night. We’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.

“Oh wow,” was all Chris said.

“We? Who the fuck is this ‘we’ my dad is referring to, huh?”

Chris handed Raina back her phone. “Raina, you know your dad has been dating. He is not Casanova, but he goes out occasionally. I thought you had gotten over your resistance about your dad dating again?”

“I try to, but it is hard. It is hard to imagine him with another woman that isn’t my mom. I know she would want him to be happy and not alone. But…”

When Chris saw Raina begin to cry, he immediately engulfed her into his arms and held her while she cried. Chris could never understand Raina’s pain of losing a parent, but he would do his best to support her in that moment and every moment after.

“I miss her all the time, Chris,” Raina managed to squeak out.

“I know you do, darling. I know,” Chris said while continuing to hold her and stroke her hair tenderly.

“It has been nine years since mom died, and I just can’t get over it. That night was so fucked up. If we had demanded the paramedics take her the first time they came, then she might have…”

“Raina, you can’t do that to yourself. You can’t play the what-ifs game,” Chris consoled. He has had this talk with Raina before. She always replayed that night over and over about what could have been done to save her mom. “I may not have known your mom very well, but I do remember the one time I did talk with her. It was when you sang with the Boston Pop Orchestra back in spring of 2010. Both your mom and dad were there, along with my mom and me. I remember the look on your mom’s face when you began seeing. Marie was in such awe and was crying. She looked so proud, Raina. She told me that no matter what, you would always be her little girl. That goofy little girl who would rather spend time in her room playing the guitar or keyboard and writing down song lyrics. She is with you all the time, Raina. She’s never left you.”

“It still sucks, though,” stated Raina and wiped away the tears with her sleeve. “Okay, I’m tired of crying.” She took a deep breath and retreated to the bathroom to wash her face.

If her dad were dating, then she would be supportive. He deserved to have someone by his side. It was not fair for him to spend the remainder of his life alone. Raina decided to view it as George’s way of honoring his late wife by living his life to the fullest. It is what Marie would have wanted.

#chris evans #chris evans x oc #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character

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bigfootwrites · 4 years ago

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A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

One

Two

Three

Four

AO3

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @improlificinsarcasm @enigmaticxbee Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this!

- - -

Chapter Five

It’s been a while since he’s felt his head pound as it does. Mulder’s hangover doesn’t treat him well, the lack of sleep from last night also wasn’t helping.

Krycek had caught him. Mulder had no doubts that the younger man had probably been spying on him all evening on behalf of his father. The journey up to the rooms, Krycek had spent goading Mulder, telling him just how much trouble the Golden Boy was in. Mulder had ignored him, as best he could, walking ahead and blocking the boy’s voice from his ears.

Only once in bed and sobered up did Mulder let the worry in. The rat had probably scampered off to Father before coming back and waiting for Mulder to leave third class, just to appear out of nowhere with that stupid smug smile Mulder wouldn’t mind wiping off the bastard’s face one day.

Now, he tries to ignore the tension circling around the room, the quiet anger radiating from his father.

Mr Mulder had all be ordered Phoebe out of the room, proclaiming to want some alone time with his son. Mulder knew what was happening, what his father was doing. He was almost hesitant to let Phoebe go but the look in Father’s eyes, the way he stood with his back keeping the door open, telling Phoebe she needed to leave shut down any hopes that Mulder had of keeping her with them.

Mulder picks at his breakfast, his stomach revolting from the hangover or from worry, he isn’t sure. His nervous glances towards his father are too common, every move his father makes has Mulder flinching, something he immediately scolds himself for afterwards every time.

The tension is killing him. He feels like weak prey sitting here, caught in a trap with no way out.

“Your mother was worried about you last night,” Father starts, not looking up from the paper he reads.

Mulder cringes, clamping down on the guilt that swirls in his stomach. This method, Mulder thinks. Bring up Mother and how she feels, great.

“I told her she had nothing to worry about,” Bill Mulder continues. “He’ll be back soon, I said, of course that was before I got word you were off gallivanting down in steerage.”

“I wasn’t gallivanting,” Mulder cuts in. “I was invited down there.”

Mr Mulder throws his paper down on the table, his anger now seeping atop of the lid.

“Those people could have ripped you apart and stolen everything you’re worth, did you think of that before you accepted the invitation?”

Mulder tries desperately hard to not roll his eyes, his jaw clenching.

“But I wasn’t and that didn’t happen. I just danced and had fun.”

“Had fun,” Bill laughs. “Fun is for children, Fox, you were almost a father, there’s no time for fun anymore.”

A sting of sadness stabs his gut. In of the concern for Phoebe’s wellbeing through the whole miscarriage, nobody had once consoled him. Phoebe got a dog, he got nothing, not even an ounce of comfort from anyone.

It was his child, too.

A cap on his anger, his father calms down. “Now I know this year has been difficult but that doesn’t give you an excuse to fool around. I’ll admit, this Scully girl isn’t as bad as I thought she would be but she’s not good for you either, getting you in trouble like this…” Bill sighs, leaning back to look at his son. “Maybe you’re just looking for friendship, after Samantha—”

“It’s been twelve years,” Mulder says, unable to stay silent much longer. “It’s got nothing to do with her.”

“Maybe it does,” his father says, the man who has all the answers to everything and is never wrong. “Maybe she reminds you of her somehow but that doesn’t make this…acquaintance right.”

A beat passes and Mulder mulls this over. At eight Sam had a freedom about her but that was only because she was a child, naïve to the path that was set out for her. Scully has no path, she is freedom- hers and his. This is about freedom, not long-lost sisters.

“It’s best you don’t see that girl anymore.”

The words hit like bricks.

“And to make sure you don’t, for the rest of the journey we thought it best you stay in our sights,” Mulder’s eyes shut in defeat. “There’s a service at ten and a tour after,” Bill explains but Mulder’s barely listening at this point. “You will attend both with your mother, Phoebe, and myself.” With that, Bill pushes away from the table and leaves the room.

Now alone, his face falls into his hands. His sentence has begun.

Religion had never been something he believed in, never something he needed. Most people used it as a clutch, something to give them faith when there was nowhere else to turn to. He respected it but he ever found it necessary.

His mother had dragged him and his sister to church when they were younger; Sam liked the hymns, Mulder liked going home.

He feels much like a child now, sandwiched between his mother and father much had he had to be when he was younger, only it’s Phoebe who sits to the side of Mother rather than Sam.

Time drags and his head hurt, somewhere behind him he could hear a voices, or voices, from behind the glass doors. Mulder twists in the bench, looking out beyond the doors, unable to see the figure making a fuss fully but also certain that he caught a glimpse of red hair.

“Get her out of here,” Father says to Krycek. He passes him a pound note and the boy scurries to the doors. Mulder watches.

“Face the front,” Father tells him and automatically Mulder turns. In a low, calming voice his father speaks.

“I’ll give you permission to talk to her later on,” Bill tells him. “You’re to tell her that you’re thankful for the company she’s provided but she’s not to bother you again. She stays in her area and you’ll stay in yours. Krycek will accompany you.”

Mulder doesn’t say anything, instead feeling more padlocks be added to his prison.

The service ends soon enough, for which Mulder is grateful for. He’s ready to head to his room and stay there for the rest of the journey.

He goes to do as much before Phoebe’s voice is stopping him.

“If we go now we’ll still make it in time for the tour.”

The bloody tour, Mulder thinks, he’d forgotten about that. He turns, eyeing his father with pleading eyes, hoping that he’ll let him go.

Of course, Father does the complete opposite.

“Yes,” Bill says, making direct eye contact with Mulder. “Fox was just telling me he couldn’t wait.”

The bastard.

Despite his father’s proclamation, Mulder makes no effort to be at all interested in the tour. He lingers at the back, catching words here and there about how long the ship took the built, who built it, why they built it, pointless stuff that Mulder just wasn’t interested in right now. Phoebe took to the front, constantly asking questions and if Mulder was in a better mood right now, he’d be surprised as her level of curiosity.

“How many lifeboats are there?” Phoebe asks.

“Twenty, I was told.”

“Is that enough?”

The small group stop, surrounded by sixteen lifeboats, Mulder counts, pressed up against the sides and out of the way as much as possible.

“Bit of an eyesore, aren’t they?” Mulder hears his father say.

The guide up front shrugs, mutters something about them being necessary to which Father hums in disagreement at.

“Let me show you the pool,” the guide says.

The pool is nothing special despite people ‘oohing’ and ‘awing’ at it. They get the history, they watch people swim and Mulder’s just about ready to drown himself.

Just as they’re about to leave, his name is called. Mulder spins, catching a glance of a person who disappears behind a pillar and he knows it’s Scully.

His heart sinks.

The group, and most importantly his father, busy following the tour, Mulder breaks away, heading towards the pillar with a lump in his throat.

“Finally,” Scully says grabbing onto his arm and pulling him towards her, hiding him from view. “I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see you.” His chest feels heavy, a sad smile flittering across his lips and instantly Scully’s frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Mulder stares at her, this woman that he feels like he’s known forever, who gave him access to a life away from pre-built paths and futures decided. He thinks of last night, of the fun that he had and the consequences having fun created. He thinks of his father, of Phoebe, of a life he doesn’t want but has to take it all the same.

He doesn’t want to lose Scully, but it’s only right. After this journey, after this ship docks, they’ll go their separate ways, end the ties now when they’re new rather than later when they’ve grown more attached.

“Scully, I…” He struggles with the words, with getting them out, with even forming them. His heart pounds, his head pounds still with the hangover, his stomach twists and his father’s probably now noticed he’s not with them. Can he not do this another time? Later? Tomorrow? Never…

“What is it?” she asks, she knows something amiss, knows there’s something wrong.

“I…can’t see you anymore,” he says slowly. “I don’t want to.” A lie, his brain screams. But it isn’t. Not exactly. He may have been glum before but he wasn’t conflicted, he was bound to do right by Phoebe, to work on their relationship and make something out of it. “It’s too complicated, what we have.”

He watches her blue eyes turn to grey steel, the concern turning to hurt and then to anger.

“We’re just friends, Mulder, what else did you think we were?”

The word stings. He remembers her dancing, with the little boy and later when the night had progressed. Remembers her answers at the dinner and their conversations before it, the smile she’d given him when she knew she was doing well. Mulder can’t even begin to pinpoint what moment it turned complicated.

“I know, I know,” he answers quickly, frowning, thinking. “It’s just…I love Phoebe and you…”

The words die on his tongue, a realisation crosses Scully’s face and Mulder’s stomach falls. He’d mistakenly just told her the truth when he should have finished the words.

He doesn’t even try to.

“Right,” Scully says, all metal and concrete. “I suppose I should take this as kindness, so I should, you not making me your bit on the side, an’ all.”

Mulder shakes his head furiously, “No, no, it’s not like that!”

She moves away from him and Mulder misses the closeness already.

“Why not?” She’s fire and ice at the same time, both burning and he wants it to stop. “That’s all we are to you anyway, isn’t it? Something new when the regular gets old.”

Words aren’t forming, he just continues to shake is head, it all spilling out of control before him.

She brushes past him, knocking into him on the way. Before she leaves, she turns back towards him, attempting to deliver one last blow.

“I hope you’re happy, Mr Mulder. I hope Phoebe makes you happy.”

“It’s my father!” he shouts before she leaves, above the natural loud volume of the swimming pool they’re still standing in. “He wants this marriage to work, he doesn’t want any distractions.”

It was the wrong thing to say as Scully swirls, ready to say something before it seemingly dies on her lips. With one last cold hard stare she leaves.

#a jewel beneath the moonlight #chapter 5 #updated #i write

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Not So Alone (repost)

This is a shameless repost because I haven’t written a thing today. So I poked around in my archive and found some fluff. I chose Alan fluff cos that is what I’ve read a bit of today :D I think this may have been one of the first times I wrote Alan’s POV. I know I remember being a touch terrified :D

Apologies to those who have already read it, I’ll try to write some new stuff tomorrow ::hugs:: My brain has just been mush today :(

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Title: Not So Alone Author: Gumnut 21 Jun 2019 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Alone time is sometimes better shared. Word count: 1767 Spoilers & warnings: None. Timeline: Standalone Author’s note: This is for @ak47stylegirl who wrote me the first part of this little fic, Alone Time, which can be found on her profile on Ao3. She wrote Virgil, so I stepped out of my comfort zone a little and wrote her some Alan to keep her Virgil company :D I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

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Alan was bored.

It wasn’t often that he found himself with a lack of things to do. Life was generally busy with Thunderbird maintenance, rescues and backup duties.

Of course, he could always kill some zombies, but he was feeling restless. Gordon was off the island with Grandma so that didn’t help. Scott was buried in paperwork and John was still hiding on Five. Virgil had disappeared.

Wandering out onto the balcony, Alan eyed the pool a moment before throwing the idea out. Without Gordon it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun.

Maybe he could go for a walk. Scott had been nagging him to get into a more regular exercise routine and, hey, he hadn’t seen the other side of the island for a while.

Darting up to his rooms, he threw on some loose clothes, decent shoes and a hat. A quick note to John to say where he was going and he was out the back door and crunching gravel up the side of the mountain.

While he had no objection to the great outdoors, Alan had no particular preference for sun, surf or bush walking. Not that he didn’t love a splash in the ocean with his brother, or even a jog around the island with Scott, it was just that many of his interests lay in the confines of the virtual world.

Or space.

Part of him didn’t want to admit he was like Johnny, but he was in many ways, but where John adored seclusion, Alan loved people. Basically, Alan was happy doing pretty much anything as long as it was with someone, preferably someone he loved.

So, he would really be lying if he said he took his route at random. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more just what he knew was going to happen regardless.

Virgil had some favourite places on the island to sit and just be. Alan didn’t quite get it any more than he got John’s love of solitude, but he knew his brother liked it and he stored the information for when it was needed.

Today Alan wanted company, so he used the information he had at hand.

Clambering around on the rocky island was not for the faint-hearted. There was no doubt that he was getting a good workout just by going for a simple walk. His first stop was a small cliff beyond Thunderbird Two’s runway. It was Virgil’s favourite, just on the other side of the mountain. He could often be found here just staring out into the ocean thinking who knew what. The scene had been painted, scribbled and, in one case, mosaicked onto a table. This was definitely Virgil’s favourite place.

He wasn’t there.

But Alan still had his list.

Two more Virgil spots proved empty and Alan had managed to work up quite a sweat. He was beginning to wonder why he was even bothering when he caught sight of a figure almost completely hidden in a grove of palm trees.

Virgil sat on a rock, his sketchpad on his lap, completely absorbed in his art. He was up a cliff overlooking a good chunk of the island, the twin peak at an angle even Alan could appreciate.

Alan eyed the climb and with a deep breath began the trek to reach his brother. He kept quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb him. That would be a good way to get his head ripped off. But if he approached from just the right angle, he should be able to see what Virgil was actually drawing.

It took actual rock climbing in a couple of places, but Alan eventually found himself situated behind his brother on top of the cliff, and as expected the view was breathtaking.

It was late afternoon and the entire side of the island was lit up by the sun. Gulls were wheeling in the air above the forested slopes, catching rising air. Far below, raw Pacific collided with the rocky shore in places and wrangled with reefs in others.

Virgil had certainly found a spot.

Quietly Alan made his way closer to his brother. Virgil drew on, showing no sign of knowing Alan was there. The cliff was a slope that had Alan descending towards his brother. Virgil was facing away towards the scenery, slightly hunched as he drew. Because of that slope, Alan was actually able to see his brother’s hand, this time his right, sketching pencil lines on the paper.

For a moment Alan was content to simply watch, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t come all this way just to spy on his brother.

“You do know it is rude to stare.”

Virgil’s voice was always soft yet possessed a strength that could be startling. Alan stiffened, annoyed at being caught so easily.

“What? Do you honestly think all that rock clambering would go unnoticed?”

“Dunno.”

His brother had yet to look up at him, simply continuing to sketch as he spoke. You gonna come and sit down?” Virgil held up a hand. “Just be very quiet, I don’t want you to disturb them.”

Alan frowned. “Who?”

But that hand didn’t answer, just beckoned him over.

Alan did what he was told and found himself sitting on that rock beside his older brother.

Virgil was scratching lines furiously onto the page, but the subject wasn’t what he expected. All that beautiful scenery and Virgil was drawing a haphazard pile of sticks?

Whispered. “They’re sea eagles. I’ve never been so close.”

Alan’s eyes darted from the sketchpad to a slither of rock a stone’s throw away from the edge of the cliff. The pinnacle stood alone and defied gravity almost to the point of disbelief. On its very top sat a huge nest. From this angle he could see the two chicks waiting for their parents to return.

Breathed out quiet. “Cool.”

Virgil was sketching madly and under his practised hand, one of the chicks slowly came to life. Simple line instinctively placed, shaded and shaped. It was a little mesmerising.

Alan, of course, had watched Virgil draw before. Amongst all the other things. His brother was usually fiddling with something. He had to have something in his hands, whether it was a pencil or paintbrush, piano or Thunderbird, Virgil tended to always have something playing between his fingers.

When Alan was little there had been many a Kansas winter night snuggled up by the fire, curled up beside his brother watching him draw. Sometimes he would dare him to draw outrageous things like Pedro the Peanut-Killing Pickle. There had been odd stories and scribbled down comics. Alan had even tried his hand under a little encouragement from his brother, but he didn’t have the enthusiasm that Virgil had for the art.

Besides, Alan was quite happy to just sit and watch. Rare quiet moments shared with his artistic brother.

They had been getting rarer and rarer.

“Can I sit with you, Virg?”

A brown eye with an arched eyebrow peered at him. “You’re already sitting.” The curve of a smile. “But sure. Just be quiet and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Respectfully whispered. “Okay.”

So, they sat for an unknown length of time. Virgil drew the second chick, and as one of the parent birds landed with the evening meal, its strong wings, talons and beak appeared on the page. Alan watched as the pencil lines grew darker, surer. Virgil switched pencils and they grew darker still, the birds emerging out of the page into three dimensions.

Down below the two chicks guzzled food from their parent.

A loud, awkward screech from above and another eagle was circling overhead, likely the other parent.

In the corner of the page, the bird quickly appeared, wings spread wide, soaring.

The quiet was amazing. Alan wasn’t one to sit still for any length of time, so perhaps he was missing the obvious, but the sound of Virgil’s pencil, the tease of the breeze and the call of the eagle above had only to compete with the waves far below and the rustle of the scrappy forest.

And a pair of squawking, complaining eagle babies.

Gordon would probably have loved this. His fish brother loved the sea, but he loved all the creatures contained in it even more. Despite this preference for water breathers, if you shoved a puppy or a panda in front of him, the man melted into a gooey puddle. Eagle babies would definitely be on the goo list.

“This is nice, Allie.”

“What?”

“Bit like old times, you sitting and watching me draw.”

Alan shrugged. “I’ve always liked to watch you draw. Guess we haven’t had as much time lately.”

The pencil paused. “Yeah.” His brother turned to look at him. “Well, it is good to see you out here. Nice to have your company.” A gentle smile.

“Anytime, bro. Kinda nice out here anyway.”

That smile grew a little before softening. “Well, unfortunately we have to head back now.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to pick up Gordon and Grandma.”

Alan checked his watch. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d been out here…three hours! “Wow, didn’t expect it to be so late.”

Virgil didn’t comment, just smiled a little more as he packed up his sketchbook and pencils.

Alan stood up and stared out across the ocean. A flicker on the surface of the water and he caught sight of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the swell. He stared.

“It’s amazing what you can see if you stop and look.” His brother’s soft voice so close to him made him jump.

“Virg, personal space.”

His brother snorted and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t think such a thing exists on this island.” That smile again. “Probably why John hides on Five.”

Alan grinned. “You’ve got a point.” And despite his earlier protest, he dropped his head against Virgil’s shoulder and for just a few more moments, they both tracked the dolphins as the cavorted past the Island.

“Can we do this again?”

“Sure.” Virgil slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Great.”

Silence fell, and they stood there a moment longer until Virgil squeezed a little and let go. “C’mon, sprout, time to clamber down the mountain.”

Virgil took the first few steps and Alan followed, throwing one last glance back at the nest now full of the entire family of sea eagles. A sharp beaked head turned in his direction and glared at him.

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the bird before he hurried after his brother.

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FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #Virgil Tracy #fluff

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