#I made heathers ring the color of a heather flower | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

your-eternal-muse · 4 years

Text

Half As Pretty

Heather Series Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The Song Mentioned in the chapter, Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars aka, the song that made me sob because it was too perfect for this damn fic. I recommend listening to it while you read the part its mentioned in.

Summery: Reader is experiencing her own personal hell, but one midnight confession sets everything ablaze.

Words: 3.4k I told y’all it’d be longer.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of nicotine addiction, the beginning of an alcohol addiction, suicidal thoughts, slight manipulation from one Derek Morgan, and just a whole lotta hurt.

Paring: Spencer Reid x Heather Charmical, eventual (I promise) Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

A/N: Okay.....I’m finna be real honest.....I was listening to my music on shuffle when Poison and Wine came on, and I started crying while typing, and than I re-listened to it while typing this up and proceeded to cry again. It took me about 3 minutes of psyching myself up to write ONE sentence near the end of it because I knew there was no going back once I wrote it. This was so hard to write in the most beautiful way possible, and I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Shout out to @toosassy2handle for the recommendation of Heather's last name. It’s long and annoying and just reminds me of a stuck up bitch so its perfect.

~~~~~~

I used to love weddings.

They were always so well put together.

I’d always admire the pretty bride, the dress, everything.

I dreamed of having one of my own one day. And when I met Spencer, those daydreams changed so that I was walking down the aisle towards him instead of someone whose face I could never quite focus on.

But that’s all I’m ever going to have. Daydreams.

Because here I sit, all dolled up next to his mother, at none other than Spencer Reid’s wedding.

It’s obvious Heather did most of the planning.

I don’t take him as a ‘dusty rose’ type of person.

I stare at the soft colors and delicate flowers, and fire burns deep within me.

I want to burn this place to the ground.

I can’t, though.

I’m supportive.

I’m happy for Spencer.

I’m happy that he’s happy.

I’m happy.

I look down at my hands, playing with the hem of my burgundy party dress.

I don’t think I’ve been this dressed up since….

I think I threw that dress away when I got home that night.

I don’t remember much of that night after coming back to the table.

I’m positive I drank at least half the champagne they had.

Derek had to carry me home.

“My son didn’t plan any of this.”

I look over, and see Diana scowling at the decor.

I can’t help but let a small smile spread across my face.

At least she agrees with me.

I lean in closer to her, so our words can only be heard by us.

“I completely agree. He’s more of a ‘dark academia’ kind of guy.”

She smiles at me, reaching her hand over, and patting my leg. “You know when he told me he was getting married, I thought it was going to be to you.”

My heart stops. “Y-You did?”

She nods, looking around the room like she hadn’t just said something that made my world stop spinning. “I didn’t meet Heather until a week after he told me. That’s when I learned that they were dating in the first place. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed.”

I bring a hand up to my mouth, covering the smile and laugh threatening to spill.

“But she makes him happy. Anyone can see that.”

The smile falls, and the laugh dies.

“Though, he did bring you to meet me not too long after meeting you himself.”

I nod, remembering the trip. “It had been a month. I had known him for a month, and he really wanted me to meet you. I was so nervous. I really wanted you to like me.”

Her smile is big, and her hand finds one laying in my lap, squeezing it.

“I liked you the minute he told me about you.”

I loved Diana.

I will always love Diana.

I open my mouth to say something, but someone a few rows back says ‘Here comes the groom.’

I turn my head, and low and behold, there he is, walking with the biggest smile on his face towards the front. He stands, with his hands clasped in front of him, as he waits like the rest of us.

He looks stunning, in a simple black and white tux.

His eyes meet mine, and I smile at him.

He winks back at me.

The moment doesn’t last long before a song starts, and a hush falls over the crowd.

Slowly, one by one, bridesmaids and groomsmen make their way down the aisle.

Derek is the best man, and he pats Spencer's shoulder as he takes his position behind him.

And then the music shifts, and while she starts to walk, something dawns on me.

I will never be as pretty as she is.

She’s breathtaking.

She’s practically glowing in the white satin ballgown, a bouquet of roses clutched in her hands.

She’s looking around at the crowd, smiling and nodding and it’s only when she’s halfway down the aisle that she meets his eyes.

I look at him, and I don’t think there are any words that can explain the look of pure joy written across his face.

JJ, who is sitting beside me, reaches over and grabs my free hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

She reaches the front, and all eyes are trained on her, but I can’t tear mine away from him.

He holds her hand so delicately, and I can see him fighting back tears.

I don’t even notice when vows are said and rings are exchanged. I only notice when I see JJ look at me from the corner of her eye as the officiant says “If anyone has any objection to the marriage of these two people, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

For a moment, I think about it.

“Me! I do!”

The crowd gasps as I make my way towards the front.

“I do. I object.”

His eyes are wide and she looks furious.

“Why do you object?” The officiant says, startled.

“Because I love you.” I’m looking directly at him.

“I love you, Spencer.”

No.

No, I can’t.

I’d lose everything.

You’d be a selfish bitch is what you would be.

“Then do you, Heather Charmical, take Spencer Reid to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Tears are lipping out of my eyes, though my eyes are not the only wet ones in the room.

I can blame it on the emotions. I wouldn’t be technically lying.

“And do you, Spencer Reid, take Heather Charmical, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Please say no.

“I do.”

I don’t have a heart anymore.

This just confirmed it.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

He takes her face between her hands, and places his lips on hers in a passionate kiss.

That’s it.

They’re married.

People clap and cheer, and they lock hands, walking back down the aisle, now together by law.

I want to puke.

People start to get up, and I suddenly can’t breath.

My chest rises and falls, and I shoot a glance at JJ, before making my way through the crowd as respectively as possible to leave the room as quickly as I can.

I look down to my bag once I make my way into the vast hallway, digging and searching for my cigarettes when I ram into someone, dropping my purse, and spilling the contents over the smooth tile floor.

“Fuck.”

“Hey hey hey, what’s the rush baby girl?”

I look up to see Derek, kneeling down to help me pick up my stuff.

“I just, I just um,”

Breath, y/n, just fucking breath.

“I just really need to find a bathroom. I shouldn’t have drank all that tea before coming here.”

I shove things back into my purse, not even really looking, before standing back up.

“I’ll find you and Pen in a bit. Promise.”

I don’t wait for him to answer, turning and walking away before he gets a chance to speak.

I’ll find a bathroom eventually.

~~~~

When is an appropriate time to leave the wedding of your best friend, whom you're secretly in love with, without seeming rude?

Because I need to leave.

I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I don’t.

My right leg is crossed over my left, shaking with every anxious heartbeat.

People have plates full of food, and are mingling with drinks from the open bar, another thing that I know for a fact Spencer had nothing to do with.

I’ve barely touched the food on my plate, my appetite gone, at least not for anything other than the fruity little cocktails that keep appearing in front of me.

I’m about to get up and find someone, probably JJ, that I got sick in the ladies room, and to tell Spencer I’m sorry, when he walks up to where I’m seated, his hand outstretched for me.

“Come dance with me.”

The liquor in my system makes me giggle.

“I thought you didn’t like dancing?”

“I’ll make an exception for my favorite girl.”

Don’t let Heather hear you say that.

I place my hand in his, and let him lead me to the dance floor, where he spins me, before bringing me in close to him, resting a hand on my hip, and grasping my left hand with his other.

My hand not in his rests comfortably on his upper arm, and we sway, back and forth to the soft music.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m positive he can feel every heartbeat through the layers of our clothing.

The lights are soft, and the music is gentle. If I close my eyes, and don’t think about it, I can imagine that this is our first dance, at our wedding that will never happen.

“Thank you, for coming y/n.”

My eyes open, and I can’t hide from him anymore. His eyes don’t falter from my own, and his smile is small.

“Of course I’d come. Why wouldn’t you think I would?”

“I don’t know. You’ve seemed off these past couple months. I didn’t know if you’d be up for it.”

Shit shit shit.

I laugh off my panic. “Spence, I could be bleeding out on my apartment floor, and I would still make it here. You mean everything to me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He grimaces at the thought of me dying, but the words that follow erase the worry on his face. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right? Everything’s okay?”

I smile at him, placing my head against his shoulder so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I lie. “Everything is fine. I’m okay. I promise.”

You’ve gotten way too good at lying to him. What’s gonna happen when he finds out? About your secret? About how it's getting harder and harder for you to get out of bed in the morning because it’s just not worth it anymore? Or about your depleting alcohol cabinet, since every night you seem to think drowning out your sorrows will make it easier to sleep?

He rests his chin on my head and we just sway back and forth to the music.

His fingers start gently playing with my own, and I hear him softly singing to himself as we dance.

“Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise.” His hand moves from my hip to my lower back, holding me there against him as he continues to sing.

“I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.”

I move my face farther into his shoulder, like I could disappear if I wanted to. This feels too intimate, feels too wrong. I should step away and congratulate him, tell him to go find his wife for god's sake, and leave with my dignity still intact.

But I don’t want to. I’ve dreamed of him holding me like this, and the words he’s whispering I know are for only me to hear.

“Oh I don’t love you, but I always will. I don’t love you, but I always will.”

Whoever the dj is, deserves a raise, because while this song is totally not for a wedding, it’s perfect for this moment.

“I always will. I always will.”

The song ends, and we stand, still together, for a second longer than we probably should.

“I’m sorry to break you two up, but I was wondering if I could convince my son to dance with his mother.”

Diana’s voice is soft, and I smile against his shoulder before moving back, removing myself from him.

His eyes are wet.

“Of course, Diana. He’s all yours.”

She turns to me before I walk away, pushing stray hairs out of my face, fixing my necklaces and smoothing out my dress. “Heather looked like she was about to burst into flames. I thought I’d save you from a public sacrifice.”

Fuck.

“Thank you, Diana.”

She kisses my forehead before turning back to Spencer, and I use the time to walk back over to my table, grab my purse and make my way out of the room.

I find a balcony of sorts, and the cool December air cools my skin.

I once again dig through my purse to find my cigarettes, pulling out the pack once I do. When I open it, however, I find it empty.

I smoked my last one and didn’t even realize it.

“Damnit!” I crush it in my hands, before placing it back in my purse.

The sun is setting, and I can see my breath.

I walk forward to the stone railing, looking out over the small park below the building. The stone is rough beneath my palms, and dark spots appear as I cry for the second time today.

I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.

He couldn’t have meant it the way I’m thinking he meant it. He was just singing along to a song he’s probably heard thousands of times the past couple months.

But it’s too perfect not to.

Is it possible? Did he love me? If he did, does he still love me?

“Aren’t you cold, sweetheart?” Derek’s voice startles me, and I jump a little.

“Uh, no. It feels nice. It was getting a little stuffy in there so I thought I would come get some air.”

He hums, and walks up to stand beside me, his hands in his pockets.

“You know, when you dropped your purse earlier, an envelope fell out.”

My eyes widen.

“It didn’t have anything written on it, so I just assumed it was for Spencer and Heather and put it with the others. You seemed like you had other things on your mind so I thought I’d help.”

No no no no no no no no this isn’t happening. This isn’t real, he didn’t just give my love confession to the now married man it’s about and his wife. Oh my god, I’m gonna die.

“Y-You what?! No no no, that wasn’t meant for them. No no no. Holy shit.” I start pacing back and forth, combing my hands through what little of my hair was down.

“I need to go get it. He’ll understand. It’s just a big mix up. He can’t have that envelope.”

I turn ready to run back into that room and make a scene when Derek speaks from behind me.

“You mean this envelope?” I turn and there he stands, holding it in his hand.

My stomach rises from my feet. “Jesus fucking christ, Morgan. That’s not fucking funny.” I walk forward to grab it, but he’s taller than I am, and raises it out of my reach. “I never said it was.”

“Give it back, Derek.” Even in heels I can’t quite reach his hand.

“I will, once you tell me what's in it that gets you so worked up at the thought of Spencer having it.”

I don’t meet his eye as I reach for it again. “It’s nothing. It’s none of your business.”

“Baby girl, I see the way you look at him.” He grabs my wrist with his free hand, lowers himself so he can look at me straight on. “And that dance that you two just had? That’s not nothing and you know it.”

My lip trembles and I remove my arm from his grasp, walking back to the railing.

If you jump, this could all end. You wouldn’t have to explain anything. It's a perfect cop out.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my voice shuddery when I talk. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Penelope. And especially not Spencer.”

He stands close by my side, his eyes on my face as I stare out over the park. “I promise.”

Is this what having a heart attack feels like?

I take a short breath in, it's all I can muster, and speak.

“It’s a confession. I’m horrible with words, so I wrote it down to give it to him.”

“What were you confessing?”

Tears resume to fall down my face, and I pinch at my cuticles. “That I’m in love with him.”

I feel Derek shift to look down at the railing, the envelope placed in between us.

“I confessed that I’m in love with him. That I have been since the moment I met him. I know how horrible it is, I know but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Even if he never finds out, I needed to put it out there that I love him.”

“You’re in love with me?”

I choke on my breath, and my nails dig into the stone.

No. Please no. Please tell me this is all just a nightmare, and I’ll wake up this morning and it’ll have never happened.

My body is frozen, but I manage to turn to see him standing in the doorway, a look of pure shock written across his face.

He looks like I just slapped him.

“Spencer, oh my god.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it feels like a scream ripping from my chest.

“Y-You’re in love with me? When-, I-,” he runs his hands through his hair, and takes a step forward.

I'm sobbing, and I can’t stop. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. “Spencer, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on you finding out like this.”

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice cracks, and I realize then that he’s not angry. He’s hurt.

I have to be honest with him now. I can’t lie to him. It’s over. The ruse is over.

I’m finished.

My fists clench and unclench as I try my best to keep my emotions under control.

“I was going to tell you the day you introduced me to Heather.”

His eyes flicker to the envelope resting on the railing, and they gloss over for a second as he remembers that day.

“You told me-”

“I lied. I lied and said it was for my mom, but it wasn’t.” I cross my arms in front of me, a chill settling itself on my skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wish his voice would get louder. I wish he would scream at me. I deserve to be screamed at.

“You were dating someone, Spencer. You had been dating someone, and you had just introduced me to her. What would you have wanted me to do?”

“Not lie to me!” There we go. Get angry. Hate me.

“Why? What would you have done!? What would have happened if I didn’t care about your relationship with her and just given it to you?”

It’s getting darker, and the light pouring outside from the building is the only one to see by, so I can’t really make out his face.

“I don’t know! I have no idea of knowing, but I do know that I wish you wouldn’t have lied to me. You’ve been hiding from me, Y/N. Please stop hiding from me. I can help you.”

I roll my eyes, my vision going blurry from the tears. “No you can’t Spencer. You’re married. Did you forget that?”

He’s quiet, and I can see Derek shift his gaze from between us, not really knowing what to do.

His voice is substantially softer when he speaks next.

“Give me the letter.”

I choke back the noisy sobs. “No.”

He repeats himself, holding out his hand.

“Please, give me the letter.”

“Why?” I’m exhausted. Can’t this conversation just end?

“Because I need to know that you loved me like I loved you.”

Loved?

He just told you to your face, that while he may have loved you once upon a time, he doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore. He doesn’t love you.

I can’t fight this anymore.

“Please don’t hide from me anymore.” He pleads, and I can feel myself beginning to go numb. Whether it’s from the cold, or my mind starting to shut down, I have no idea.

I grab the envelope from where it sits, walking forward and handing it to him.

He brings it to his jacket, tucking it safe inside one of the pockets.

“I’ll call you. Okay? And we can talk this out.”

There’s no talking this out, Spencer. What’s done is done.

He looks between me and Derek, and without another word, he walks back into the building, shoulders tense, and head down.

This is it. This is the end of the line. Nothing will be the same.

“Y/n….”

I don’t respond. I just turn, grabbing my purse and walking down the stairway the leads to the park from the balcony.

My tears leave hot streaks against my cold skin.

A snowflake lands on my nose.

~~~

Permanent Tag List: @criminalcow @pinkdiamond1016 @eternityofaxiom @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @marvels-gurl @theamuz @write-from-the-heart @sungieeeeeee @mjloveskids666 @chococereal @itzsoff @gia-kerks @doctorspencereid @imsuperawkward @andreasworlsboring101 @itsmoony @cielo1984 @heistmaster69 @nevvvv @theseuscmander @complementaryvacuum

Heather Tag List: @drsoftboyreid @lindaze @urie-bowie-mercury @racerparker @avaholcombe @rodertayloroof @stephanieisgay330 @swiftspaperings @rainsong01 @darthseph @liaabsurd @tracyn910 @kxllyxnnx @holypicklelightnickel @pianofirepirate @radtwinkie @madcrazy50 @bweakmybonez @constantlywishingonstars @l0ve-0f-my-life @expressiodepressio @flannelpjpants @x-midnight-violets-x @kwyloz @todaynotseen @caitlin-f @mylovehes @spencerreidsimptime @yoongi-holland @vamp-army @realimbo @stardream14 @magicbearssss @jessaminelovelace @darthvadersturd @nikkilikewoah @mellifluouswildbluebells @lex-rodgers-sheild @crist1216

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds series #criminal minds self insert #cm #angst #heather #conan gray #poison and wine #the civil wars

628 notes · View notes

katsukisbeatingheart · 4 years

Text

sing to me

soulmate au where you can hear the songs stuck in your soulmate’s head. the closer you are to them the quieter the music becomes, before the voice changes altogether.

word count: 2,440

a.n.: helo i have a few of these typed up and a few others in progress explicitly for soulmate aus. it’s the least angsty one so far so here you go friends.

(psst here’s dabi’s)

(psst here’s sero’s)

(psst here’s bakugou’s)

listen while you read 👉👈

ao3

Shinso Hitoshi did not sing, and isn’t the type to give even so much as a hum. But when he did—of his own volition, mind you—he never did so in front of people.

Which is how he knew this soulmate bullshit might not actually be all that contrived.

Sometimes he’d catch himself embarrassingly humming or whistling in public—usually to the absolute amusement of his friends and family—stuck with songs in his head he hadn’t even ever heard of. And it was in times like that he’d begin singing something ridiculous back, as his own petty way to clearly say ’stop’.

When the music would disappear, he’d chuckle lightly to himself and continue about his day.

Only to fall asleep that night to you whispering sweet, sweet literal nothings from the far side of his mind. Barbie Girl was a slap and a half, but if he had to check out with it rolling around in his head at two a.m. for the third night in a row, he’d dedicate his waking hours to annoying the hell out of you.

See how you liked it being startled awake—hopefully, he wasn’t 100% on the time difference—by Caramelldansen.

There were even a few times where you’d try to push music into each other at the same time. Like hijacking a radio frequency, you’d change channels on each other all day and all night until it was a warbled cacophony of noise, bordering on a headache big enough for a small city. Rarely would either of you concede, but if and/or when you did, you’d make sure the song was something you both liked.

At any other rate, Shinso had to give you credit for your taste in music; even if he didn’t recognize a fair few, he’d remember the lyrics and scour the internet later looking for them like his life depended on it. He already had a building playlist of the songs you’d sing to him—separate ones for the songs he knew, the songs he didn’t know, and his personal favorites. He kept those to himself like trade secrets, deflecting questions about what he was listening to or what kind of music he had on his phone.

Oftentimes, it was easy to guess how you were probably feeling if he just listened. There were queues of songs that made him feel relaxed and incredibly focused—which he assumed did the same for you—and others that just set him on fire.

Then there were days he felt like he was walking around with water in his shoes and a storm cloud lamenting with taut strings and frail keys. It was days like those that he liked to physically, consciously hum meme audios—or if the sadness was particularly dour, he’d find a quiet place, and sing songs that meant the world to him. Shinso wouldn’t hear anything back, and assume you were singing too.

The music said a lot about you, which was a considerable feat as he had never met you before, and he wanted to be selfish. He didn’t want to spoil what was special to you and him before he even got to see you.

You definitely worked your way around that, the maddening anonymity—using song titles to give away bits of information about one another as generously as you could. Favorite colors, films, seasons; all objective small talk suddenly turned scripture. He amassed everything in a small journal like priceless treasures—carrying around the value of another life in his pocket as casually as a to-do list. He had the music, but something tangible like this put his mind and heart at ease. You were really out there, and Shinso could meet you someday.

It wasn’t a known secret to anyone that subject posed one of his greatest fears. One day finding someone to spend the rest of ever with, with someone else’s song playing in his head.

In more than a few ways, you helped him remain largely optimistic. As long as he could hear you, he could find you, and as he got older and he acquired more freedoms and was just a little surer of himself, there was a chance.

That hope suddenly burned like ice on one derisively beautiful day.

Shinso dragged himself up the flights of stairs leading to his apartment, sliding around the stacks of moving boxes cluttering up the only way home. He tottered down the hall, and stepped through the threshold inattentively humming a new tune he’d heard that day that he thought you might like.

If there was one thing he could ever count on, it was your consistency.

Ever since you were kids, he grew up with annoying, made up nursery rhymes he still had memorized, as though he’d written them himself. They quickly turned into fun jingles, which then morphed into some of the most beautiful melodies he’d ever heard. Those didn’t usually have lyrics though, so it wasn’t like he could look them up to be sure—and yet he somehow knew they were original to you.

It was then that he realized, he had never gone a single day of his life without music.

So, when he sat back after a long night of work and readied himself for at least a few hours’ sleep, he froze. Shinso hadn’t heard a beat of song all day. Not anything besides what might have been jumping around him as he went out for errands or to the agency.

With a harsh shake of his damp hair, he swiped a towel over his stony expression. His clenched jaw was starting to drive an ache into his skull.

You probably slept all day, he reasoned.

Even though he was sure you’d sent songs to him in sleep more than a few times in your life…

No. Absolutely not.

He shook himself free of worries, refusing to end the day with fear in his heart where the music should be.

Instead, he closed his eyes and slipped into a tune he’d fallen asleep to before—one that he was sure you created. It rained over his restless consciousness like sun-drops and star-dew, pulling steady, even breaths out of him and pushing a gentle weightlessness in.

The next morning, however, brought even more questions Shinso was just slightly afraid to have answered. Still no sign of the little voice that sounded like him, but was not his own. He absently picked up on a lilting murmur somewhere from upstairs, and anchored to it the more the weightlessness slowly began disappearing.

Shinso shrugged off his nerves, whistling light and roses into the bathroom mirror through his teeth. He splashed cold water into his face and closed off the tap with a huff, sending a final apprehensive glance to his reflection before heading out the door.

He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly ineffably compelled to turn into the shop on the corner after a quick run to the market—but he is. Maybe it’s the incoherent and yet still familiar ringing in his ears, clear as a bell ushering him along his spontaneity.

Shinso’s morning started jittery and threatened to boil over in anarchical agitation. Strolling down the street with the absence of his wonted metronome, hands in his pockets tapping to the beat of an abandoned drum, he felt he stuck out like a loose screw. He was mindless in his trips to each store as he blindly reached for things he was vaguely sure he needed.

It was when he had stepped out onto the corner that something inexplicable snapped into place.

Shinso jogged across the street and through the inviting doors of a building whose name he hadn’t even bothered to read. He found himself surrounded by chrysanthemums and dahlias before he realized he’s in a floral parlor.

The redolence of fresh soil and ingratiatory verdure engulfed his wearied demeanour; the petals brushed his cheeks, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d suggest that the bouquets were reaching for him. The salvia and larkspur waved from the other end of the aisle, and he followed their purple buds to the other side of the shop.

He stopped to admire the camellias and daffodils, lightly taking them between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

Butterflies.

Hitoshi’s eyes widened with a start, his posture straightening like he’d been struck with lightning.

They fill my guts when I look in your eyes.

He pivoted back and forth on his heels, desperately looking to the flowers for an explanation. A voice filled his head for the first time in nearly two days.

A heart that’s young is filled with sweet surprise.

This time though, the voice isn’t his. It’s clear and ringing and it doesn’t belong to him. The usual warmth he felt basking in the sound of music you whisper in his voice does nothing to compare with the exhilaration frothing in his chest now. Shinso ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, sliding it down his neck and over his shoulder.

It’s really not his, he inwardly surmised. It’s like listening to someone from inside a bubble, though; it’s a round and full sound, but he just knew if it were only slightly louder, the barrier would pop and he’d be free.

Only the innocent can sympathize.

It’s yours.

He brushed past the water lilies, clearing row after row as casually as he could in a futile attempt so as to not appear deranged.

I don’t care

The voice bled into his mind clearer, like watching the gentle shift of river to ocean water through facile currents. He turned the last corner with a breath of anticipation. In a final bit of direction, the lilac, heather, and baby’s breath spilled out of an ornate frame, unquestionably pointing to a figure facing away from him.

“About the funny way you wear your hair,” you crooned. You turned to tenderly repot the rosy begonia cupped in your palms, tucking it in place with the most serene gleam Shinso Hitoshi had ever seen. He sighed, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for years.

“Someday you’ll let me put my comb up there.”

“’Till then you’re beautiful and I just stare,” Hitoshi finished softly.

You almost dropped your armful of forget-me-nots. Your strangled breath caught in your throat, hooked solely on the man standing there waiting. He gazed at you with an amused smile and crinkled, bruised eyes. It’s reminiscent of a sleepy kitten and if you hadn’t been so shocked, you’d have melted in your shoes.

“I missed your voice yesterday,” he drawled almost lazily, crossing his arms over his chest. You cleared your throat, rolling upright with a swing of your hands as they lock together at your back.

“I was going to say the exact same thing.”

His movements reminded you of a large jungle cat, stalking forward with a controlled lethargy tensed in anything but. As eager as you were, you matched him beat for beat, dragging your quivering legs in delicate strides down the aisle.

“So, is this supposed to mean we met sometime yesterday then?”

He stood right in front of you, finally close enough to recognize as the nameless and faceless childhood friend you’d been listening to since you could think on your own. You stepped into him, coming to a stop just before the tips of your shoes met his.

“It’s likely.”

“No way,” he said with a resolute shake of his head. “I’d remember you if that were the case.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

He stared you down with a focus you wouldn’t expect from eyes as exhausted looking as his.

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” You bashfully tugged at the fabric of your clothes, the warmth in your chest spreading upwards to beam across your face. Flattening your palm against the expanse of his collar bone, you idly swung your hands over the surface like a pendulum.

“Maybe we just missed each other then—crossed paths without finishing them,” you suggested, twirling a lock of purple around your finger.

“You wouldn’t happen to be moving in somewhere, would you?”

Your head jerked with a small start to twist at him quizzically. How could he possibly know that?

“In a complex a few blocks away from here, yes. Why?”

Shinso’s smile broke into parts amusement and incredulity.

“Looks like I’m your new neighbor,” he grinned. My neighbor? You lit up, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That means—!”

“You’re stuck with me, yeah.”

“That can’t be such a bad thing,” you started, dropping your voice to push into him more, “—after all, I’m a little new to the area.” You blinked, letting a coquettish simper slide across your features.

“I could do with some sort of guide if I’m going to survive out here, you know.”

“I think I know a guy,” he murmured, a strained husk in his volume.

“Oh, you do, do you?” you whispered under fragile breaths.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down to angle his face with yours. Just as you reached in to touch his lips, he pulled back suddenly, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “Tall, blond, black streak of lightning across his bangs—hard to miss. I’ll introduce you; probably just your type.”

You rolled your eyes and punched his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt in an iron fist.

“How could you possibly know my type?”

You pulled his stupid happy face to yours and kissed the mischief out of him, and he dissolved into a tender mess under your fingertips. All of this was new and unexpected, but he imagined seeing, meeting, and eventually kissing you going much different. Shinso hadn’t expected colliding like old, familiar friends; Shinso hadn’t expected missing the way you pressed into him, as though you’d done it a thousand times before. This was a first kiss between two people, but not the first time you’d ever touched.

“Be careful,” he sighed, voice richly warm, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

You languidly pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, tracing time signatures into his jawline.

“Have been since we were kids, thanks for noticing.”

“You mean to tell me Mr. Snuffles Is My Best Friend was actually for me? I’m flattered.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Absolutely not about one of my favorite stuffed animals.”

“That’s good to know. And here I was thinking I would have to challenge a teddy bear for your hand.” You laughed heartily, pressing your forehead into his chest.

“Can I walk you home?”

You fingered the fabric of his shirt, leaning in to feel the rhythm of his heart. It was the prettiest song you had ever heard.

“I’m already there.”

#my hero academia x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha x you #bnha reader insert #bnha imagines #mha imagines #soulmate au #bnha soulmate au #officer im babey #and i love him #my writing #a123 #shinsou hitoshi x reader

929 notes · View notes

ladyshandioftheendless · 3 years

Text

~Crüe AU writings 19~

WELL SHIT LOOK AT THIS!! It’s a sequel to my Vampire Crue story!! I’d like to give a special shoutout to @misslivvie for letting me yell at her about this story and helping me with ideas~ Hope you all enjoy!!

~Shandi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~VAMPIRE AU II~

Summary: Mick is trying to figure out what the hell he wants to do with the rest of his afterlife. A spontaneous trip to visit an old friend changes everything~ (told from Mick’s POV)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a good life.

The kid and I are survivors. Wherever we go, we go together. We look out for each other. We're family. Admittedly I still don't care too much for the Mutt, but they seem to be good for each other. I'm happy for the kid.

And yet..

I can't help feeling a little lonely myself. Longing for the kind of intimate company that the kid can't provide. Been a long time since I've been with anyone..not since I was still human. I'd never thought about it before. But now.. Fuck. I thought I'd grown past this. Apparently not. Guess it's time to ask for help.

~*~

Once the sun is down I head out to the Strip. I know just the person I can go to. That familiar scent of magic is strong as I turn into the alley where Heather's flower shop is. Really strong as a matter of fact. I'm wary at first but then I think: what did I have to worry about? This is normal for her. So I just shrug it off and head inside.

As soon as the bell rings Angel jumps up onto the counter. I scratch her head and she meows, probably to alert Heather that I'm here. I hear her call from the back. "Yes, coming!!" She opens the curtain with her usual business smile. "Hello, and welcome to the Black Dahlia--oh, Mick! Didn't expect to see you again so soon. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Smells kinda heavy in here tonight, don'tcha think? You blow somethin' up?" When I see her expression change I immediately realize it's more serious. Maybe a lot more. "Do you need help?" She's hesitant to reply. She starts fidgeting. Fidgeting. I've never seen this woman fidget for as long as I've known her. I frown. "Heather..what's goin' on? You can talk to me." She still says nothing but she looks up at me, making a motion with her head for me to follow her.

Fuck. This is more serious than I thought.

~*~

She leads me to her back room. The scent is even stronger now. Overwhelming. It's definitely covering up something..or someone. Before she goes through the curtain she turns to me with an expression made of solid stone. "You're a good friend and I'm trusting you with this. Don't make me regret it."

"Is this dangerous?"

"It could be. For all of us."

"Then why are you getting involved?"

"Because he's also a good friend."

"He?"

She pulls back the curtain and leads me inside.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me~"

"Like you would let me~"

"True..I wouldn't~"

In all my wretched existence I'd never seen anyone so fucking beautiful. He's sitting in his chair with his legs crossed, his long fingers holding his teacup. He's dressed in purple velvet from head to toe, with the exception of his boots. Black, high quality leather with platform heels. His skin is nothing like my own. He's the color of flawless alabaster with crimson red lips. His hair is a sea of dark curls that fall over his shoulders. When his eyes focus on me, I feel nailed to where I'm standing.

"Well well..I thought I sensed another like me. Who is this handsome devil, Heather dear~?"

"This is the friend I told you about. Mick Mars."

"Oh, I see~"

"Mick, this is Paul Stanley. He’s an old friend from New York."

He puts down his cup and holds out his hand to me, showing off perfectly manicured, purple colored nails, long with sharpened points. "I've heard so much about you, Mick. It's a pleasure~" I just stare at his hand. I can't even move. I must look like such a dumbass. Fortunately Heather elbowing me in the side snaps me out of it. There's amusement in his eyes. He knows the effect he's having on me. I try my best to shake it off. "Yeah. Nice to meet you too." I take his hand..and all my efforts are undone. I feel as if the blood in my veins is catching fire just from his touch alone. I quickly let go..but not too quickly, and he notices. Those sinful looking lips curl up into smile.

"We have a connection, you and I. Don't try to fight it~"

His voice echoes in my head. He can already read my thoughts?! Now I see why he's dangerous. Heather sits me down in the chair across from him and takes her own seat. "To tell you the truth, Mick..I'm glad you came here tonight."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Maybe you can help me."

"Help you..with what?"

"With me, of course~" I glance at him as he picks up his cup. I shoulda known.

"There's a Hunter after Paul. He's been on the run for a while now and he came to me for help. I'm wondering if he can..stay with you and Nikki for a while. At least until I can find a proper sanctuary for him." I stare at her in disbelief. "Him...stay with me..?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Yes..is it~?"

I suddenly feel incredibly scrutinized. Do I say no and look like a complete asshole? Or do I say yes and expose myself and the kid to the possibility of being targeted by a Hunter?

But.

I can't.

Just.

Refuse.

I can't.

Say no.

To him.

"No..no problem. Just gotta let the kid know." Heather places her hand on mine and smiles. "Don't you worry. I'm not going to leave you defenseless. I have just the protection spells for these situations. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for me~"

"Neither can I...but I'm willing to try~"

I can't help but stare at him..

His eyes.

His smile.

Even his words are heating up my blood again.

Fuck.

I'm in trouble.

To be Continued!!

#Shandi's drabbles #Crüe AU writings #Vampy Sixx~#Vampire AU Part 2!#Mick Mars #thanks again Liv for letting my borrow your OC Heather~#Paul Stanley

9 notes · View notes

hartigays · 4 years

Note

8 + 20 for the sappy prompts, mayhaps? -thinger-strang 💕💕💕

8. “Can I touch you?”

20. “I’ve been waiting all my life for you.”

(i’m doing this one as a continuation of this sappy prompt request, so y’all should read that one first to better understand this one)

standing at the altar, sweating just a little bit beneath his tux, billy’s stomach flip-flops nervously.

today is the big day. billy and steve’s wedding, the most anticipated event of the year. they’ve spent an ungodly amount of time making sure every last detail of this day is perfect, and throughout the process billy couldn’t find it in himself to complain even once. he wants this day to be just as perfect as steve does, and he’ll be the first to admit it.

billy is standing in front of hopper, their wedding officiant. hopper has a big, genuine smile on his face, and it’s been there since he exited the byers’ house and walked down the aisle after billy.

the backyard of the byers house was meticulously decorated by joyce, billy’s mom, and steve’s mother the day prior. dustin’s mom had helped as well, but mostly she handled the cooking for the reception.

the color scheme is primarily white, with pink and purple flowers accenting everything. steve had insisted on a blush-pink and lilac color scheme, which turned out to be rather incredible. the bridesmaids’ dresses and the groomsmens’ tuxes match the theme of the wedding, and steve had spent hours agonizing over which dresses and tuxes to pick.

the guests consist of joyce, as well as billy, steve, and dustin’s mothers, lucas’ little sister erica, tommy and carol, murray, and doc owens. jonathan had been chosen to be the wedding photographer, el the flower girl, and max the ring bearer. officer callahan had volunteered to be the wedding DJ, claiming that it’s a new hobby he’s trying out. officer powell and his wife had even shown up, and billy spots them in the crowd.

nancy, robin, and heather were chosen to be the bridesmaids, while mike, dustin, lucas, and will are their chosen groomsmen. they’re all still in the house, waiting for their moment to walk out and take their places at the altar.

it’s when the music starts up again that billy’s palms start to sweat, his heart rate kicking up. the wedding party comes out of the house first, and jonathan moves around to snap shots of everyone making their way down the aisle. then comes el, her smile wide and gleeful as she tosses petals into the air, watching happily as they fall. max is up next, exiting the house and making her way down the aisle with a soft smile, meeting billy’s eyes. she’s holding a silk lilac pillow, the rings resting on top of it.

once everyone is in their right places, callahan switches melodies. there are a few anxious moments of waiting before steve finally exits the house, and billy almost loses his balance at the sight of him.

steve is blurry and watery because billy is already crying, but billy doesn’t even attempt to hide it. he’s steeled himself so he won’t outright bawl like a baby, but it’s his wedding day. he’ll permit himself to cry around people other than steve on the most important day of his life.

steve looks breathtaking in his tux. the jacket is white with black silk lapels, and his pants and shoes are black as well. he has a set of purple flowers tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and his hair is styled as immaculately as always. billy’s tux coordinates with steve’s, though the colors are opposite. billy’s tux is black with white lapels, white pants, with a set of pink flowers tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

billy’s hands twitch by his sides, wanting to reach out and pull steve to him once he makes it to the end of the aisle. it’s only another moment before he’s standing in front of billy, smiling brighter than the sun.

“to start, i’d like to say a few words of welcome,” hopper begins once everyone is still and quiet, “and thank everyone for being here to bear witness to this union.”

billy doesn’t hear most of hopper’s introduction. he’s too busy staring at steve, and steve is staring right back. they’re both crying already, and billy can’t help but think that when they can finally kiss, they’re going to be practically bawling into each other’s mouths.

“when i first met steve, he was just a snot-nosed teenager with a penchant for getting his ass kicked,” hopper is saying, “and my first run-in with billy just so happened to be me arresting him.”

hopper gives billy a smile and a wink, and the audience laughs. billy can’t help but huff out a laugh of his own, because it’s not like he’s wrong, and steve’s laugh is a little wobbly and watery.

“i have to say, i didn’t see much in these two at the start. at the time, i didn’t much believe in change or growth, or second chances.” hopper pauses, clasping his hands together. “or even in love. i didn’t believe that love had the capacity to change people to such an impactful degree. but then you boys came along, and your souls found each other, and i saw all of that change before my very eyes.

“i’ve witnessed you boys grow and change. i’ve seen you learn from your mistakes and become better people, and i’ve seen you both do that alongside each other. the love you share is a love that has impacted not only both of you, but everyone around you. it’s opened both of your eyes, and it’s opened my eyes and the eyes of others, too. and that is a very powerful thing. this marriage doesn’t just represent love, though it is truly bursting with it. it also represents the evolution of the soul, and the capacity for the love of another human being to spark that kind of evolution.”

steve’s tears are coming harder at hopper’s words, and billy says fuck it internally, reaching out and grabbing his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. hopper wraps up his speech a moment later, but billy has stopped listening again, focused solely on the weight of steve’s hand in his.

they’ve chosen to forego any readings, so the ceremony moves straight into their vows. steve starts them off, wiping his eyes with a shaky laugh and taking both of billy’s hands.

“billy,” steve starts, taking a deep breath. “my billy, my sweetheart, my sunshine. the love you’ve shown me, the love you’ve given me, endlessly, has been the brightest, most beautiful thing in my life. before you, i always thought i knew what love felt like, and how much of it i could give someone. but then you came along, and i never knew i could love someone so much. i never knew i could love someone the way that i love you.

“you’ve loved me, cared for me, protected me, defended me. you’ve given me everything and more, selflessly, and it’s my turn to give you that, too. i vow to love you, to care for you, to protect you, to defend you. i vow to tackle any obstacle that comes our way by your side, always. i promise that i will love you, and only you, every day for the rest of my life. i give myself, every last bit, to you. i’m yours to keep, forever. i love you, billy, and i want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

steve squeezes billy’s hands, and billy can’t help the half-choked sob that slips from his lips. it’s more of a hiccup mixed with a joyful laugh, but steve just keeps smiling, holding billy’s hands, grounding him.

billy looks at hopper, sniffling. “is it my turn?”

“the floor is yours,” hopper tells him, smiling.

“steve, baby, princess. pretty boy, if you will,” billy begins, and steve huffs out a laugh. “every day since i’ve known you, you’ve made me want to wake up and be a better man. for most of my life, i didn’t care much about kindness or goodness. i didn’t think those things mattered much, until i met you. you, who’s overflowing with so much kindness and goodness. you, with all your patience and generosity. you’ve given me so much love that sometimes i hardly know what to do with it.

“you’ve shown me what it means to love, and what it means to be loved in return. even on my darkest days, you’ve loved me without question. without stipulation. i promise i will love you for the rest of my life, with no conditions attached. i vow to hold you in my heart until the day i die, to wake up every day and love you even more than the last. steven michael harrington, i’ve been waiting all my life for you. and i’m ready to spend the rest of it with you by my side. forever is a long time, and i intend to spend every last moment of it with you.”

steve is full-on crying now, teardrops staining the silk of his tux. max steps forward, holding out the pillow where both rings are resting. billy takes steve’s ring, and steve takes billy’s. they take turns slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers, both of them smiling like idiots through their tears.

hopper is sniffling too, but he barrels on, clearing his throat. “with that, william james hargrove, do you take steven michael harrington to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“i do,” billy says, easily. his voice almost cracks, and he just barely manages to keep it together.

“and do you, steven michael harrington, take william james hargrove to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“i do,” steve affirms. his voice is wobbly, but he’s smiling so wide that billy is pretty sure his cheeks are going to be sore tomorrow.

“without further ado,” hopper says, “you may now kiss -”

billy doesn’t wait for hopper to finish his sentence before he’s stepping forward, pulling steve in for a kiss. steve’s hands are on billy’s shoulders, and billy has his arms wound around steve, holding him close. the kiss is warm, and a little salty with tears, but billy smiles into it, his heart soaring.

“i now pronounce you husband, and husband,” hopper finishes, wiping his eyes.

el throws a handful of petals into the air above them, and billy is still kissing steve as they fall down around them.

it isn’t until later, until after running down the aisle with steve, after hours of dancing and eating and drinking and laughing at the reception, that billy kisses steve with more heat.

hopper has given them his cabin for the weekend, and billy doesn’t waste any time getting steve out of his tux once they’re inside, kicking the bedroom door shut with his heel.

“can i touch you?” steve asks softly, his hands pausing where they’re about to slip off billy’s tuxedo jacket.

“baby, we’re married now,” billy reminds him, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “you don’t have to ask permission.”

when they fall back into bed together, in a mass of tangled limbs, it doesn’t last long. they’re both too excited, too worked up, to hold on for more than a few minutes. but neither of them mind, because they have the rest of the evening to come together slowly, to worship each other with meticulous attention.

hell, they have the rest of their lives ahead of them. they can spend every day just like this, taking each other apart, lips and hands roaming over broad expanses of skin, giving each other every ounce of love and attention they can muster.

like billy said, forever is a long time. and they most certainly intend to spend every last second of it side by side, hand in hand.

exactly the way they should be.

#and thats on weddings and romance #hope u like it lovely!!!! mwah 💓💓💓#harringrove #my fics #ask #anon

114 notes · View notes

thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Geyarajan (Gandharva)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Gandharva Additional Tags: Exophilia, Gandharva, Childhood Sweethearts, Puppy Love Content Warnings: Blood, Broken Limb, Separation, Memory lapse Words: 4600

A commission for @floral-and-fine, who did the lovely artwork above of Geyarajan! An angsty story about childhood love that gets torn apart by family, race, and circumstance! Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

In Hinduism, the Gandharvas are male nature spirits and husbands of the Apsaras, the spirits of clouds and air. Some are part animal, usually a bird or horse. They have superb musical skills; they guard the Soma and make beautiful music for the gods in their palaces. Gandharvas are frequently depicted as singers in the court of the gods.

Gandharvas in the historic sense acted as messengers between the gods and humans; today they are depicted as imitators, cheaters, liars and those who have tricked themselves 'into being god'. In Hindu law, a gandharva marriage is one contracted by mutual consent and without formal rituals.

You couldn’t remember exactly how old you were, perhaps six or seven, when you first met Geyarajan. You’d heard singing in the forest as you played in the garden behind your house, and though you knew you shouldn’t go into the woods alone, you couldn’t ignore the draw of the sound. After maybe ten minutes, you stumbled upon a clearing wherein a boy was singing, though he was unlike any other child you’d ever met.

Your village was human only; beasts and monsters were not allowed to settle there. In fact, non-human merchants were discouraged from selling their wares in the area and non-human travelers weren’t welcome in the taverns or inns. In your short life, you’d only seen a person who wasn’t human maybe twice, and only in passing. You didn’t quite understand why, but you were a small child and didn’t think to question it.

Not until you met Geyarajan. When you first saw him, you were mesmerized by his music. You sat and listened as still as a statue, afraid of spooking him, except when he stopped singing, he looked right at you and smiled as if he’d been waiting for you to come. He hopped off the rock where he had been sitting, and you got a better look at him.

He wore no clothing, but from the waist down, he was all feathers. His legs were long and spindly, ending in three-toed claws like that of a purple heron. The feathers extended up his back to his large wings, heather-grey in color, which were folded at rest behind him.

His hair was long and falling around his shoulders in ringlets, the same heather-gray as his feathers. He had a four streaks of black, two on each side, running down his neck, one stripe down his arms to his wrists, the other down the inside of his shoulders and disappearing into the feathers near his hips. His skin was dark brown and his eyes were sharp in shape, amber-gold in color, and hawk-like.

Though he was much taller than you because of his long legs, in his face, he looked to be about your age, perhaps slightly older. He was slender and graceful in his movements, taking careful steps toward you as if not to scare you, though you didn’t think you could possibly be afraid of him.

“Aren’t you from the village?” He asked, his speaking voice as musical as his song suggested. “Won’t you be in trouble for coming into the woods? My parents say that humans are scared of the woods.”

“I’m not scared,” You said, puffing up. “Papa says I’m a big girl. I can go to the corner store all by myself now. I only came ‘cause I heard you singing.”

“Oh,” He said, frowning. “I must be too close, then. I should go.”

“Wait!” You reached out, grabbing his hand. “Stay and play with me, won’t you? What’s your name?”

“Geyarajan,” He replied, not attempting to break away from your grasp. “You’re the girl who lives in the house near the river, right? What’s your name?”

You told him. “How do you know me?”

“I’ve seen you sometimes,” He said, leading you to the rock where he was sitting before. There was a bushel of flowers laying there. He began to weave them into a ring. “When I fly above the town. I know you from the ribbons.” He tugged at the blue ribbon you wore in your hair, which matched your pristine dress. Your mother insisted on dressing you like a doll, always making you wear frilly dresses and putting ribbons in your hair.

“You can fly?” You whispered in awe.

“Well, sure,” He laughed, fluffing his wings a little. “These aren’t fake, you know. I have to fly pretty high, so the only thing I can see of you clearly is the ribbons.”

“Why do you fly so high?” You asked him.

“Mother says it’s too dangerous to fly too low over the town,” Geyarajan said. “She says the people don’t like us, that they’d be mean to us if they knew we lived in the forest next to them.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. If it’s dangerous, why don’t you move?”

“Our kind lived in these woods before those humans ever settled here,” He said, pointing toward the village. “Why should we have to leave?”

“That makes sense, I guess,” You admitted. “I don’t see people like you in town. It’s only humans. I don’t know why.”

“Mother and Father say it’s because humans hate us,” He said morosely, looking at his hands as he continued to weave the garland. “Do you hate us?”

“No!” You said. “You’re so pretty! Can I… Can I touch your wings? I’ve never met a person with wings before.”

He regarded you warily, but said, “Okay, but only for a minute. Mother says our wings are a sign of divinity, that they make us holy.”

“Divine? Like an angel?”

“What’s an angel?”

You tried to explain what an angel was to him, but he just looked confused.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Do you want to touch my wings or not?” He asked impatiently.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaimed. You reached out tentatively and ran your fingertips gently down his proffered wing. He watched you carefully, his hands stilling in their work.

“Wow,” You breathed. “It’s so hard to believe they’re real.”

“Well, they are,” He sniffed, eyeing you. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’ve never met a human, but my parents said they’re all cruel and heartless. They call your kind monsters, but you seem nice.”

“I am nice,” You replied. “I’m friends with everyone in town. I want to be your friend, too. Can I call you Rajan?”

“Why?”

“It’s a nickname!” You said. “It means we’re friends.”

“Oh,” He replied. “Yeah, I guess so. Can I give you a nickname?”

“Sure!”

“Alright, how about…” He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on the flowers in his lap. There were wild daisies, coneflowers, purple poppies, blanket flowers, black-eyed susans, and blush-pink primroses. “What about Primrose?”

“I love it!” You said excitedly. “Primrose and Rajan.”

Rajan giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“Well, my whole name, Geyarajan, means ‘king of songs,’” He replied, finishing the crown of flowers and placing it on his head. “But Rajan just means ‘king.’”

You giggled too. “I like that! You can be the king of the primroses! It’ll be a kingdom just for us!”

“Sounds fun!” He said. “Let’s play Kings and Flowers, then!”

“That’s not a real game!”

“Is too! I just made it up!”

The two of you played until it started to get dark, then Rajan escorted you home. He stopped about thirty feet away from the treeline, where you could hear your mother calling.

“I can’t go closer,” He said, still wearing the flower crown. He took it off and placed it on your head. “You should run home now. I’ll watch you to make sure you stay safe.”

“Alright,” You said brightly, standing on your tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you again soon!”

He blushed and touched his cheek, frozen. You laughed joyfully and ran back to the garden behind your house.

“There you are!” Your mother shouted as you came out from around the house. “Where have you been? Look at the state of your dress!” She fussed. “It’s ruined! Do you know how long it took me to sew that?”

“Just make me a normal dress, Mama,” You said. “A plain one I can play in.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said, taking your hand. “I’ll not have my daughter wallowing in the muck like some street urchin. To the bath with you!”

As she dragged you along into the house, your lovely flower crown slipped from your head and floated away on the breeze.

“Oh, Mama, my crown!”

“Leave it,” She said.

“Oh, but it was--” You stopped short before saying a present. You didn’t want your mother asking from whom. You watched as it floated into the road and was trampled by a passerby. Sighing with disappointment, you followed your mother inside.

Geyarajan became your best friend from that day on. You had to be careful, though; you couldn’t go too deep into the forest for fear of dangerous creatures and he couldn’t get too close to the village, or he’d be seen and possibly captured by the townspeople. As such, you could only see each other once a week or so, and on the days you agreed to meet, often you’d sneak out to play for a few hours after bed.

Having a secret friend was thrilling. It made you feel special and important. He’d told you that he hadn’t told his parents about you, either, because he didn’t want them to be mad at him for getting so close to humans. It was as if the pretend kingdom the two of you built together was real, and you were the only two in it.

It didn’t take long at all for you to develop a crush on Geyarajan, and it seemed to be mutual. He always held your hand whenever the two of you walked together and you often gave him quick pecks on the lips to see the surprise and delight on his face. It was the pure, innocent love of childhood, and though your time together was limited, you were both happy.

Of course, secrets are never meant to last.

Time passed. One evening when you were eleven, after you’d snuck out to see him, the two of you were stargazing in a clearing, making up constellations, your fingers intertwined loosely.

“See there,” He said. “That’s the raven. It’s good luck.”

“Who says?” You asked, laughing.

“I say!” Rajan said. “I’m a king, aren’t I?”

“Oh, right,” You replied. “Papa calls that the eagle. And that’s the dog star.”

“Why do they call it the dog star?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “Tell me another one.”

He squinted. “I can’t see it all that well from here. I usually look at the stars from up in the trees. It’s harder to see them all clearly on the ground like this.”

“How high up do you go?”

“The top, obviously,” He said, sitting up and pointing straight up to a nearby oak tree. “The tallest, strongest branch. That’s the best place.”

“I’d be scared to go that high,” You said, shivering a little.

“I could help you,” He said. “I’d fly you up there.”

“Aren’t I too heavy?” You asked him skeptically. “I was the last time you tried to lift me.”

“That was a year ago! I’m much stronger now.” He hopped to his taloned feet and flexed his skinny arms. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Are you sure?” You asked as you took his hand.

“Come on, you trust me, right?”

You straightened up and smiled at him. “Yeah, of course I do.”

He grinned back. “I won’t be able to take off from the ground,” He said. “We’ll have to climb up a little ways so I can do a drop. I’m really good at those.”

You frowned at the thought, but since he knew way more about flying than you did, you didn’t argue. Swallowing down your nervousness, you followed him up the tree.

You hadn’t known how to climb a tree when you first met him; your mother had forbade such things. Geyarajan had decided immediately that it was inappropriate for anyone to be unable to climb a tree and taught you how to do it the second time you met. You got pretty scraped up the first few times, which you had a hard time explaining away. Now, you were an expert. You were even able to keep leaves and dirt off of your nightgown.

Of course, Geyarajan was much faster than you, since he’d been climbing trees before he could even walk. We was already on the branch he planned to launch from, waiting patiently for you to catch up. He wasn’t above heckling you, though.

“Are all humans as slow as you?” He teased. “I could be halfway to the coast by the time you get up here.”

You stopped for a moment to blow a raspberry at him. In the few seconds that you were distracted, you misstepped, your foot sliding out of your evening slipper and catching you off balance.

Geyarajan leapt, reaching out to catch you, but he was too late. You fell straight down, landing on your right leg. It snapped in half upon impact. The pain shot up your body and struck your brain, and you screamed like you never had before. Geyarajan landed next to you, panicking, trying to figure out what to do. You were crying too hard to speak.

“Hold on, Primrose, hold on,” He lifted you as carefully as he could and began to run through the woods. The pain and smell of blood made you violently sick. “I’m taking you home, just hold on.”

“No!” You managed to gasp. “You can’t go there!”

“I won’t be able to stay, but I can get you there, I promise,” He said.

“No!” You said, beginning to struggle, squealing as the movement made the pain worse. “They’ll kill you! You can’t go to the village!”

Geyarajan stopped in his tracks, breathing hard and looking toward the village and back into the forest.

“I’ll get into a lot of trouble, but there’s only one other place I can take you,” He said, sweating and shaking with fear. “Hold on to me. We’ll be there soon.”

What happened next was a blur of pain, color, noise, voices, and a terrible sick feeling throughout your body, the only familiar thing through all of it was the sound of Geyarajan’s voice and his hand holding yours. At some point, you blacked out completely.

You woke up to the sound of screaming. You were lying in the back garden of your own home, a large, grey feather in your hand, and your mother rushing over to you, checking you frantically.

“Oh, god, are you okay?!” She asked. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” She saw your leg and shrieked. “Who did this to you?!”

Her shouting had attracted the attention of several men, all of whom looked tired and held burned out torches. One of them dropped their spent torch and lifted you up, carrying you into the house. There was noise and shouting and confusion all around you, made worse by your mother’s constant shrill crying in the background. You let them do as they will in silence, clutching Geyarajan’s feather.

Your leg hurt, but nowhere as badly as it had before. You looked down and saw to your surprise that the leg had been wrapped set, wrapped in cloth to stem the bleeding, and was in a makeshift splint made of straight wooden rods and vines.

The physician was called and examined your leg. During this time, you learned you’d been missing for four days. The men with torches were part of the search party, tirelessly searching the woods for any trace of you. When they found blood on the grass and a fragment of your clothes, along with several large feathers, they thought some massive monster had gobbled you up.

The physician determined that your leg had been expertly set, however, meaning it was no monster that had taken you. Since you couldn’t remember most of your time missing, you kept silent, which made everyone grim-faced. They assumed the worst and decided someone had taken you and kept you in the woods somewhere, and you were so traumatized by the incident that you’d blocked the entire event out. You couldn’t exactly argue with them, but you knew Rajan would never hurt you. Not that you could tell them that.

The search began anew, only this time it wasn’t retrieval. It was revenge. You wished you could tell them that it wasn’t necessary, you wanted to stop them, but you couldn’t do anything without telling them about Rajan and his people, and you had promised never to do so. So you could only watch anxiously as the townsfolk worked themselves into a froth, looking for a predator that didn’t exist.

Bedridden and helpless to stop the villagers from their crusade, you spent many nights crying and wishing you could see Rajan. It was too dangerous now; you thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time. You were surprised when, a week later, Rajan came straight to your window late one night. He opened it and hopped down.

“Rajan!” You breathed, elated, and reached out your arms to embrace him from the bed. He stayed out of your reach. You couldn’t see his face well in this light, but his body radiated distrust.

“How could you?” He said whispered, pain seeping into his voice. “I thought you were my friend. How could you do this to me?”

You dropped your arms. “Wha… How could I what?”

“You know what!” He retorted angrily, his voice rising in anger. “You told them! You told the humans about us! You told them where to find us!”

“I didn’t!” You replied, stricken. “I would never, you know that! I never told them anything!”

“Liar!” He snapped. “Men came! They set fire to our colony! We have no home now because of you!”

You ignored the pain in your leg and swung around to sit up properly. “I didn’t tell them anything! I don’t even know where your colony is! I’ve never been there!”

“You’re lying! You were there! My parents cared for you, they fixed your leg! This is how you repay their kindness?”

“What?” You replied, confused. “I… no, I… I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. The last memory I have before waking up in the garden was you carrying me. We argued because I didn’t want you to come to the village. I was worried you’d get hurt--”

“Stop,” He said, raising a hand. “Enough of this. My parents were right. You can never trust a human.”

“Don’t say that! How could you have so little faith in me? We’ve been friends since we were little! I’d never do anything to put you or your family in danger, you know that! Why would I do that?”

The light from the moon caught his face, and the pain in his eyes stopped your heart.

“You tell me.”

He climbed up onto the windowsill, walked out on the roof, unfurled his wings, and took off. You fell to the ground with a loud thump. Your father came in to find you sobbing in anguish. He lifted you and put you back to bed, petting your hair and telling you it would be alright. But it wouldn’t.

You decided that once you were healed, you’d go and find Rajan and keep protesting your innocence until he believed you. You didn’t count on your parents’ plans.

Another week passed, and your mother came into your room.

“How are you feeling, love?” She asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. You’d been sullen and depressed since Rajan’s visit. Everyone assumed it was because of your disappearance and you made no attempt to correct them. The guilt of his family’s home being destroyed weighed heavily on your mind. If only you hadn’t tried to climb that tree.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said. “I can’t believe monsters were living right next door to us in the woods. It’s become too dangerous in this place. Look at what they did to you!”

“They helped me!” You shouted. “They’re not monsters!”

Your mother rounded on you, her face pinching in suspicion. “How would you know that? What do you know about them?”

You scowled at her and remained silent.

“I knew you were lying when you said you couldn’t remember anything.” She stood up and looked down her nose at you. “That does it. We’re moving to Dunmountain.”

“What?!” You cried. “No! I don’t want to move!”

“The decision has already been made,” She told you, pulling out your luggage and starting to pack. “Your father and I can’t abide those disgusting creatures living so close.”

“But there are people like them in the city!” You argued.

“There are rules for them there,” Your mother said. “Most of them are ring fighters or laborers. They don’t practically nest in the backyards of decent people.”

“Who said you were decent?” You screamed. “You can’t make me go!”

“Who’s going to stop me?” She shouted back. “Your father has agreed. We’re going!” She threw your bag on the floor next to your bed. “Pack your things yourself!” With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you to weep bitterly into your blanket.

You had no choice. Within the month, you were all packed and in a wagon headed to the city. You had become withdrawn and quiet, unlike the girl you had been before. Your father worried over you, but your mother told you to suck it up and get over it. New city, new life, new start.

She was more right than she knew. In the city, you were a new person. The cheerful child that was friends with everyone she met was gone. You were shy, introverted, and taciturn, only speaking when spoken to. You found it difficult to make friends and were quick to tears.

Your mother, in an effort to desensitize you to “monsters,” took you to the gladiator’s ring and made you watch them fight each other. You hated it; the sight of them viciously attacking each other for no other purpose than to entertain humans made you physically ill.

As you got older, the people of your neighborhood began to call you the monster girl because of your tendency to go to the ring and talk to the fighters. Just talk. Some of them were willing participants, but there were others who were forced to fight. People with debt, criminals, the homeless, the mentally ill; anyone society deemed abnormal. Their jailers seemed to forget that they were still people.

You’d often sit outside of their cells and talk to them, comfort them, even write down messages to give to their loved ones. Your mother despaired of you, and the humans thought you were weird, but the creatures of the fighting ring called you an angel.

One day, when you were nineteen, there was a new arrival at the jail, a young woman with wings and bird feet. When you were told, you immediately went to see her first.

“Hello?” You called softly, tapping gently on one of the bars.

“Who are you?” She asked.

You told her your name. “I come here to talk to the fighters and help them when I can. What’s your name?”

“Aashiyana,” She replied. “You can help me?”

“I can try,” You replied. “Why are you here?”

“I caught a deer in a field near my home,” She said. “It was apparently owned by a nobleman or something. What kind of person owns a deer?”

“People with too much money,” You replied, laughing. “How long is your sentence?”

“Until my fine is up. Six months, I think they said.”

“How much is the fine?”

“300 gold.”

“That’s highway robbery!” You exclaimed. “Let me see what I can work out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” She said. “This city is stifling. I hate it here.”

“So do I,” You replied, standing. You were about to turn and leave, but you were compelled to ask. “By any chance, do you know a boy named Geyarajan?”

Aashiyana sat up straighter and peered at you. “I did know a boy by that name, yes.”

Your heart hammered in your throat. “Did?”

“He doesn’t go by that name anymore. His name is Gaveshan now.”

“Why did he change his name?” You asked.

“How do you know him?”

“He saved my life years ago. He… was my friend.”

Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. “Are you Primrose?”

Your expression matched hers. “Yes! How did you know about that?”

“We met!” She said, her eyes lighting up. “Your leg was broken and my mother set it. She was the colony’s healer. You stayed in the colony with us until she felt it was safe to move you.”

“I don’t remember,” You told her. “I don’t remember anything. I was with Rajan when I broke my leg, and then I passed out. When I woke up again, I was back home and I’d been missing for four days. I don’t know what happened during that time.”

Aashiyana frowned. “You don’t remember me at all?”

You shook your head sadly. “I’m sorry. What happened to the colony?” You asked her, putting a hand on hers around the bars. “Rajan told me that it was burned, but he didn’t give me any details.”

“Men came out of the forest with torches. They set fire to everything. We had to flee with nothing. Some didn’t make it.”

“Oh, god,” You said, covering your mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t fallen out of the tree…”

“Did you tell the men how to find us?”

“No! I swear I didn’t! I don’t even remember being there!” You said. “I swear, Aashiyana, I swear on my life.”

He deep brown eyes searched yours for a moment, a discerning look on her face, and she said, “I believe you.”

Your face crumpled as the tears began to flow. “Thank you.” You wiped your face on a handkerchief and straightened yourself. “Let me see what I can do for you. I’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you,” She said.

It took some time, but you managed to make a deal with the judge. It was a lucky thing that your parents were in good standing with the stadium, as your father was a financier, so you were able to pull a few favors. You returned to Aashiyana’s cell three days later and directed the jailor to open the door.

“What’s happened?”

“I’ve made a deal,” You said. “You’re free of the fighting ring, but in exchange, you must work. I’ve made arrangements for you. I’ll tell you about it once we’re in the carriage.”

“Carriage?”

You took her by the arm. “Come on.”

Outside the jail, a carriage was indeed waiting for you. You opened the door and assisted her in getting inside, as the steps weren’t built for her large claws, and got inside after her. The carriage began to move.

“So what deal did you make?” She asked.

“You are to be my personal servant for the remainder of your sentence.”

She balked. “What makes you think I want to be a slave any more than a punching bag?”

“I have no intention of giving you any order,” You told her. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll like you to take me to see Geyarajan. Or Gaveshan, I guess.”

“Do I have to stay with you?” She asked, eyeing you.

“Of course not,” You replied. “You’re free to go as soon as we get out of the city limits, as far as I’m concerned. I have no intention of ordering you around.”

“Can’t you get into trouble for this?”

“Of course. The penalty for assisting a criminal escape is taking their sentence plus five years.”

“If you know that’s going to happen when you come back, why would you do it?” She asked you, horrified.

“Simple. I’m not coming back.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

188 notes · View notes

sam-roulette · 4 years

Note

💍 Timsasha?

god these two are so fuckin cute ;w;

where they get married?

some kind of outdoor venue 100%, probably in a fancy courtyard with plenty of green spaces and a cute lil pond in the background!

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

it’s a summer wedding!! with a winter wonderland theme- it’s the best of both worlds all at once, and close to dusk, the sight of fireflies over fake snow makes for the perfect setting ;w;

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc.

They do the bouquet toss 100%! but first they’re play fighting over who actually tosses the thing hgvjh and if Martin is just the one who catches it that :) is a coincidence :)

what their wedding cake looks like?

god you know those cake designs where its really elegant white for the most part and then you turn it and down the side the entire thing is cut in such a way to look like a geode inside? it looks like that!

….who smashes cake into whose face

they take the non-rock candy side and just each go for each other at once. Tim’s got cake in his veil. Sasha’s licking frosting from her lips. they’re both messes and theyre just laughing like hell with each other

who proposed to who first

Sasha! Tim also had a ring picked out and stashed but he’s always looking for just the ~right moment~, and he doesn’t want to pressure Sasha- which is why when she takes him to the park on night and does the cheesy ‘dropping to one knee’ proposal he’s almost in tears from how happy he is

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Tim walks down the aisle with Sasha at the altar, sitting so that she has a chance to rest her legs. Walking has been difficult, since escaping the not!them

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Sasha’s gone all out with the ivory corsetted ballgown-and-pearl blazer combo, gloves colored a brighter white- but Tim, in a matching corset over his pale blue sleeved shirt and trouser combination, is wearing the veil.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

it’s a winter wonderland in summer theme! Which works a lot better in summer than one might think; a nice, elegant mix of whites, blues, creams and violets, complimented by the sweet summer clematis that naturally grows and the open greenery of the venue. It’s almost all outdoors, but the reception’s in those tents- you know the ones?- and even though the mix of subdued colors and bright, vivid colors should clash, it just looks lovely, like two moments in time bleeding together

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

white heather primarily (symbolizing protection, admiration, and that your wishes will come true) with two bright yellow sunflowers, the only points of sunny color in the wedding ;w;

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

They both try to write out their vows at first- especially Tim, putting those editor skills to use, what a nerd- but Sasha gets so caught up in the emotion of the moment that she forgets everything she put down and just speaks from the heart

if anyone’s late to the wedding

Danny, by virtue is being like Super dead

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Jon, Georgie and Melanie end up with the groom’s party and Martin, Daisy and Basira end up in the bride’s party

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Sasha and Tim tell each and every one of them that the theme for the wedding is something totally different than it actually is and that’s why Jon is glowering by Tim’s side in a hawaiian shirt and Daisy is in full 18th century dress by Sasha’s side, alongside with things 1 and 2 What the Girlfriends and Martin dressed as a lounge singer. Only Basira had the sense to sneak into their wedding plans and is in appropriate colors. Tim and Sasha are smiling extra in group photos

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

Tim says a few words, but Jon gives the best man speech. It’s an oddly emotional one, looking fondly back over their times in research together and even the times when things were a bit rocky between them (around s3), and they slowly reconciled. He’s just glad everyone’s here and alive to share this

who catches the bouquet( s )

Martin catches the first but Melanie catches the second that Sasha “forgot” she had

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

some of them are sweet! some of them are silly! but in each and every one, Tim and Sasha look as though they’re having the times of their lives, and the photos taken when they don’t know their photos are being taken just show them looking at each other with such love in their eyes. leaning forehead to forehead while taking the first dance. Tim glancing at Sasha with a soft smile as she reaches just a little too far over the table, jacket slipping off her shoulder a bit. Sasha glancing at Tim while he’s thumbing through the records near the DJ, looking concentrated for all the world. They’re just in love and they didn’t even expect to make it this far...

what sort of food they have at the reception

The kind of food you eat, I assume (and also a dessert table and candy bar!! can’t have a wedding without some vices!)

who cries first during the ceremony

Oh, Tim, 100%. He adores Sasha so much that it’s unreal, and she’s a little misty-eyed herself. (Also Jon is a fuckin wreck in the audience but this ain’t about him)

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

Neither of them get blackout drunk but Tim ends up a little tipsy by the end of the night. They’ve all made a fool of themselves on the dancefloor at least once

what their rings are like

Sapphires and silver and diamonds that are specifically lab grown, because Tim saw Sasha get really enthusiastic about the invention of those and wanted to see if there were any on the market. Tim’s has the biggest diamond, though, since Sasha couldn’t rest if he didn’t have something as pretty as he was

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

whatever can be found tbh! They have a fairly small wedding in the first place- Tim doesn’t have a lot of family left, and Sasha barely knows hers, so it’s mostly just something with mutual friends. All the decorations are free reign to nab

where they go for their honeymoon

Someplace tropical, with a lot of outdoor activities and a cultural history that they can both explore together! Maybe somewhere in Greece. Maybe that island from Mamma Mia. who’s to say

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Martin gets drunk. Hoooo boy does Martin get drunk. Absolutely no one else knows why he just so happened to drink so much- Tim speculates that it’s because he got so distracted with the thought of having caught the bouquet, he just wasn’t watching himself, while Sasha reckons that the cocktails tasted too similar to the mocktails to know the difference. By the end he’s managed to make Jon so flustered he nearly slides on a tablecloth and everyone remembers that his makeup was somehow perfect even by the end of the night

who officiates the ceremony

Some fuckin dude? Maybe? Do you actually need someone to officiate the ceremony or

what song their first dance is to

Paul Anka’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder- is using a song from 1959 a little too esoteric ? Perhaps, but after this it’s just indie and obscure folk music mixing with 2000s pop for five hours

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

No one. Tim walks down the aisle alone, but holds, in a closed hand, an old necklace Danny had given him. Danny, even in death, was the only choice he would ever make for this

#timsasha #sam tag #asks

20 notes · View notes

noveltea-lolita · 4 years

Text

Freyja’s Flower {NorFin}

AO3 link: Aph Rarepair Week 2020

This is for @aphrarepairweek2020! Major kudos to my best friend @fluffybunnyblue for helping me come up with the plot <3

Valkyries were female warriors of Odin. I’ve taken creative liberties and made one male.

TW: implies suicide at end

Day 1- Flowers

Tucked away in a small forest on the outskirts of an even smaller village in Norway, there is a cottage with a garden the townsfolk have taken to calling magical. They say the white petals of the sneezewort can bloom in any kind of weather; they say they have witnessed fringed pinks to grow to be forty inches tall; and they say they have heard the liljekonvall sing, and they do not say that to sound poetic- they truly believe they have heard the drooping white bulbs sing in the breeze.

What inanity, some in the town will say when their wives or daughters or son-in-laws whisper these fantastical rumors at the dinner table. Sneezeworts are made to thrive in the toughest of weather conditions; fringed pinks can grow to be quite tall; and you must have mistaken that singing for a bird. There, rational explanations! Now hush and eat your porridge.

Rational explanations, indeed, but those who are blinded by the majesties of this ancient land are never to venture into the garden behind the cottage, for they will never be able to find it. They will miss the path in the evergreen forest, or a mist will arise and they will wander around aimlessly before stumbling back to town, or a thunderous storm will crackle across the heavens and keep them far away from the outdoors. They will stay beside their roaring fires with their hunting dogs at their sides and pipes rolling between their fingers, and they will grumble,

“Singing flowers… this town is full of fools.”

But there are fools who believe in these inanities, and they will find an open path from their village to the forest that leads them to a quaint cottage deep within the evergreens. The first thing they will take in is the exquisite smell, no matter the season it smells of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, of roses, lavender, jasmine, and chocolate cosmos. It summons the fools forward, beneath the intricate white trellis with wisterias sewed through archway, and into a floral paradise.

Pinks, blues, whites, and yellows align a tiny path etched through the garden, allowing guests to carefully tread through the haven. If their fur laden boots brush against a petal or stem, a gentle wind will push them back to the middle of the path, but it goes unnoticed by the ones it guides. If it is able to grow in Norway, then it is here, in this garden. There are hyacinths in the shade, and freesias in the light; there are moonflowers awaiting the night, and sunflowers stretching their limbs toward Sunna. There are lilies floating across the small pond in the center of the garden, and purple heather swaying around the waters. Hydrangeas, and snowdrops, and lilacs. Stor nøkkeroses, and vivendels, and revebjelles. There is a still beauty in this garden, one every guest can attest to.

There is beauty, and magic, for if you looked- really looked- you would find little creatures bustling about the flowers. Tiny fey folk resting in the bulbs of the flowers, trolls keeping the stems of greenery straight and strong, and maybe even a few merfolk in the “small pond”. These little creatures keep away from the eyes of prying humans, they only ever make their presence known when small children tumble down the paths, so they may tell their mothers of the things they saw. But of all the fey and trolls in this garden, they are incapable of running it. They are not the ones who live in the cottage.

The garden’s guests will tell others the one who sells flowers and herbs is a young man who is too beautiful to even be a man. They say the violets in his garden are the same color as his eyes, and that he dresses humbly in furs and jerkin like the rest of them, but also adorns two rings with sparkling jewels atop. They say he is kind even if he doesn’t smile, they say he looks at his plants as if they were little children, and they say he lives alone. They say they know him.

They are mistaken, for if they truly knew him they would know he is, in fact, a witch. Not the ones humans have made up with their fears of the unknown- no, he is a real witch, one who works with nature, and the gods, and the trolls and fey. They would know he wears one ring in honor of his patron goddess Freyja, goddess of love, beauty, fertility, and battles who loves sparkling jewels, and he wears the second ring in honor of his beloved.

No one truly knows the witch in the cottage, but no one ever pries and the witch never utters a word unless it is about flowers or prices.

By the time the guests have left, either empty handed or with pockets full of seeds, they are happy and content to have found such a wondrous place in their lackluster town. They have spent their entire day in an enchanted garden, though they are not entirely sure what makes it enchanted or magical. They just know it is. When the stars arrive, they close their eyes and drift off to sleep and dream of singing flowers and a mysterious man with eyes of violet.

When they wake, there are more important things to do than visit the garden, but there are always others who find the path and wander inside. Always.

The witch’s garden is open every day, except for one day out of every month. The path is hidden to all so no one may stumble upon it. The night before, the witch waits. He sits in his garden with the fey and trolls, and looks to the night sky and awaits the one coming to him. No matter the weather, no matter the time, he waits, and tonight he waits with a clay pot in his bare hands.

Lukas Bondevik, the witch of the garden, hears the approaching wings in the otherwise silent night and tilts his head back to the black sky. He sees the figure soaring through the stars, a symphony of freedom echoing through the forest with every beat of the figure’s wings. A winged horse. Most would believe themselves drunk if they were to see such a thing, but Lukas could always see more than the average person, and that, believe it or not, had nothing to do with his witchery. He was simply an odd case.

The winged horse draws closer and closer until it drops to the garden, its white coat shimmering in the full moon light. The horse is a magnificent creature, truly a beast of legends, but it is not the horse that Lukas looks to, it is the winged rider.

Armor adorns him, but it is not bulky like the ones worn by the soldiers of Denmark Lukas has seen when he ventures to market. This armor wraps around its wearers body like silk, apart from his shoulders which are, in fact, very bulky. Resting atop his forehead, beneath soft blond hair, is a circlet made of the same material as his armor with metal wings at the sides of it. A round shield is strapped to his forearm, and strapped to his back is a spear. Soft lavender eyes rest on Lukas, their hunger for battle quenched, as it always is whenever he visits his love.

Lukas’s heart will not cease its rapid beating, and he wants nothing more than to run to his beloved and pull him from his horse, but he will not. He will be patient, as always, and stay put until the other has dismounted. The armor is silent, it does not obnoxiously clang with every little movement made. Armored boots step against the ground, between the flowers, and the witch and warrior regard one another. The warrior drops his shield and unstraps his spear before he takes off across the flowers and flings himself against the witch, who put the pot down in order to hold his beloved.

His beloved smells of flowers, of liljekonvall- lily of the valley. He always smells of the drooping flower, and that is why it is Lukas’s favorite flower.

“I have missed you, my dear,” the warrior Timo whispers against his ear. “More than usual.”

Lukas can feel Timo’s tears against his neck- he always cries when they see each other after their time apart- and he tightens his hold. He does not have the strength or the courage to whisper how much he, too, missed the warrior, or how lonely he has been recently. Not even the trolls could chase away his bitter loneliness, it was too deep and thick, an ever consuming pool of black tattooed along his bones and stitched through his throat. All he can do right now is tighten his hold and hope Timo understands.

Timo lets go first and smiles, creating tiny dimples against his cheeks. It is blasphemous to think, but Lukas believes Timo to be more beautiful than Freyja when he smiles. Lukas’s knees shake and he silently tells himself to keep still less he wants Timo to poke fun at him. But Timo only takes his bare hands in his own and says,

“Have you missed me?”

So much so I thought I would lose my mind. “A bit.”

It is not the truth, but Timo’s smile widens anyway. “That makes me happy, I am happy now, Lukas!” The white wings stretched behind Timo give a small flutter, further proving his point. “I am very happy.”

Lukas’s lips twitched, and he doesn’t bother stopping their movement. It was inevitable. “I am aware, but it is unnecessary to tell me, I can see it on your face.”

“Ah, human ways are very strange.” Lukas’s smile fades. Timo is not human, he is far from it. If he didn’t have his wings, there was a possibility he could pass for one, but there is an otherworldliness to him. It shines in his eyes, and twitches with his movements, and may the gods forbid anyone see him fight. “But I love being here, I can smile as much as I want! Now shall we go inside, or walk the garden? I wish to hear about you, my dear, you and your witchery and your flowers. They haunt my dreams, do you know?”

But it didn’t matter how different Timo was from Lukas, for Freyja blessed the world with love so everyone may one day find it. And Lukas found it in a Valkyrie.

“Wait.” He picks up the pot at his feet and curses his slightly trembling fingers. “I wish to give you a present first.”

“A present!” Timo gasps. He comes even closer, lowering his head to exam the pot. “You are giving me a pot of dirt? Oh, how glorious! I will cherish it forever, though I was not aware humans gift one another dirt.”

Maybe Lukas would have laughed if he weren’t so nervous. “No, no, it is not dirt. It is… a new breed of flower I created with magic.” Timo’s brilliant eyes found his, and he was quite sure he fell into Hel for he swore his heart stopped. “It only blooms when someone gives it to the one they love, and that love must be mutual.”

The slight mischief in Timo’s eyes died as Lukas finished his vague explanation. He says nothing more as he stares at the pot- he does not ask what sort of magic was used, nor does he ask what the flower will look like once it blooms. The one who is usually brimming with questions and bubbly conversations is quiet. Still, and unnaturally so. Lukas holds his breath. He is not one to make gifts such as these. He will make his best tea, he will offer his softest furs, but never magic. It is sacred to him, and strange to others. But Timo is not “others”. He is Timo, Lukas’s one and only, and he wishes to share something new with him, something no one else has ever seen in his garden. And that is this.

Calloused hands rest atop his own and pull the pot closer. Together, they hold the pot and stare at the dirt. An indigo light begins to shine from within, glowing ever so softly. And then a small green sprout appears through the dirt. The indigo light guides it up, further, urging it on. The stem becomes longer until petals begin forming. They droop slightly, as they should, as the blue light spins colors together. When the light vanishes, sky blue and white whorl together along soft petals that face the dirt it came from, and the stem sways softly in the gentle wind. Their love created a flower, a gorgeous one that has never been seen by anyone else in this town, in this country, in this world.

But Timo does not comment on the flower. He raises his brilliant gaze and stares at Lukas across the blue-and-white flower with a peaceful look on his face. He is not smiling, but he seems content, calm. “When we Valkyries die, we either go to Odin’s Valhalla or Freyja’s Fólkvangr, but not I. I will come here and live among your flowers until Ragnarök is upon us. So when I die, when a month passes and I do not come in this form, plant our flower so I may find solace there.”

Lukas doesn’t know what to say. He usually doesn’t, but this time he can hardly breathe. The only thing he can do is lean over their flower and press his lips to Timo’s. They are as soft as petals, his breath is as sweet as nectar. Timo parts his lips and Lukas is undone. They break away in order to put their flower down, but they find each other again. Timo wraps his arms around Lukas’s waist and lifts him up effortlessly with strength hidden within his small body, and Lukas complies by wrapping his legs around armored hips and ignoring the tears staining his cheeks. They disappear inside the cottage, leaving behind the witch’s garden, the warrior’s winged horse and their flower.

An entire month passes, one entire moon cycle, and the guests who find the path take it. Mesmerized, they walk beneath the trellis and wisteria and are taken into the floral paradise, but they do not marvel at the beauty this time. They gawk at the still, pale body curled around a singular blue-and-white flower, naked apart from the rings on his fingers. The tears have long since dried on his cheeks, and the warmth has long since faded from his skin, for this happened during the night with only the fey, trolls, merfolk, and flowers as witnesses. It is a collective effort, but his body is buried in his garden, among his flowers and creatures of myth.

When Lukas Bondevik’s younger brother arrives a few days later to watch over his deceased’s garden, he finds two blue-and-white flowers dancing in the gentle breeze, side-by-side, with their roots tangled together beneath the surface.

#aphrarepairweek2020 #norfin #aph norway #aph finland #hws norway #hws finland #tea writes

27 notes · View notes

basscannonjack · 3 years

Note

1-100 SPEED RUN

Ama. How could you do this to me

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

Lactose intolerant, only eat cereal dry

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

yes, but not for too long

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

i just try to remember lmao

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

don’t like coffee, drink tea plain or with some sugar

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

not as much as I used to be!

6: do you keep plants?

I have one (1) cactus that I haven’t killed in the 9 years I’ve had it

7: do you name your plants?

sometimes!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

music or writing

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

ALWAYS

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

I generally fall asleep on my stomach and wake up on my back

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

I HAVE YOU NOW

12: what's your favorite planet?

Neptune, probably!

13: what's something that made you smile today?

my SON asking me ALL THE QUESTIONS

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

oh god, probably a bit of a mess

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

the ISS was launched on the day of my birth, so it’s been in space *literally* my entire life

16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

just plain ol’ chicken alfredo

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

keeping it silver baybeee

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

oh man, there are so many, but i’ll go with the time that Roman got coke to fizz through my nose by making me laugh too hard

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

no journal, only very similar looking notebooks to doodle and write in

20: what's your favorite eye color?

hazel!

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

my Bag of Holding! snapped the clasp on it a few years back though

22: are you a morning person?

not at all!

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

SLEEP

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Ashe, of course

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

I had to break into my own safe at my old job, does that count?

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

I’d say my boots, but I just got a new set, so the older ones

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Spearmint or wintergreen

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

I just love seeing my friends blush

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

yes, I won’t go into detail

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

SOCKS SOCKS SOCKS I used to collect weird socks, now I just have a bunch of fun dress socks lmao

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

driving everyone home at 4 am and seeing other people on the road and going “you should be in bed!” at them

33: what's your fave pastry?

lemon meringue pie

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

Teddy a winnie the pooh bear that I still have!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I adore new pens

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

uhhhh I’ve been listening to a lot of Rise Against and ABBA lmao

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

messy

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

nearly anything my brother does

39: what color do you wear the most?

black or blue

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

my claddagh ring from my grandmother, i don’t have much else from her

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

not the last book but there was one about a girl having a single dragon finger that I remember reading so many times that I unfortunately don’t know the name of, or the Tamora Pierce Lioness series

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

Don’t like coffee!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

James <3

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

I do not :’)

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

not as much as I probably should

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

I’ve been changing my username to a different halloween themed pun for all of October, I’m all burnt out

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Balut, it icks me out

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

heights, and yes :’)

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

I got a record player fairly recently, I have some P!atD ones, Foo Fighters, and Imagine Dragons

50: what's an odd thing you collect?

rocks

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

Bitch by Meredith Brooks for my eldest sister

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

the ones we’ve made in our server

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

all of the above except Pulp Fiction, I’m not really a movie person but I *am* a musical person

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my dad

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

Cotton Eyed Joe in six inch heels

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

honesty and passion in an interest

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

I just vibe and belt, y’know

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

can they both be me

59: what's your favorite myth?

the soup with a rock in it!

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

Where the Sidewalk Ends was always a good one

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

a coffee cup drinking horn for my dad, and some painted rocks from my brother

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

it would be apple juice if I did

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

not at all

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

greyish, the sun is just about to rise

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

My eldest sister

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

ROSES

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

give them to me, I love them

68: what's winter like where you live?

COLD

69: what are your favorite board games?

Monopoly and LIFE

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

no thanks

71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

raspberry or orange for fruit and mint

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

no, but I do write things down anyways

73: what are some of your worst habits?

I lose things all the time

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

STARDUST SOULMATE

75: tell us about your pets!

I have a Min Pin named Lily

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

Sleeping

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

pink

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

*insert ick emoji*

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

decorated my band locker to celebrate my birthday

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

beige, but I hung up a bunch of posters!

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

when the sun hits very rich dirt where a tree used to be

82: are/were you good in school?

best in class in math with a 101.8 but I also rarely did homework so uh

83: what's some of your favorite album art?

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

Dragon on the shoulder blade, roses on the left arm, Exalt on the right

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

webcomics! Barbarous, currently

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

:? not sure what that means

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

TREASURE PLANET

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

nope!

89: are you close to your parents?

my dad!

90: talk about your one of your favorite cities.

don’t really have a favorite, in all honesty

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

I was supposed to go see Ashe for their birthday but maybe next year!

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

uhhh it’s usually short enough to do nothing lmao

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

I have a friend’s bday tomorrow!

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

WORK

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

bit of both

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INTP, Scorpio, Ravenclaw

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

last year? maybe the one before? I did! but my heart didn’t

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

How Far We’ve Come, Matchbox Twenty

The Call, Backstreet Boys

I2I, from the Goofy Movie Soundtrack (lmao)

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the future! I’ve had my time in the past, no changing it now

#ama i love and care about you so much darlin'#but this pains me #my dear sunchild

4 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

My Girl Series: Chapter 7 - Birthday Blues

…in which Harry tries to make it up to Y/N for all the birthdays he has missed.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 6: This Time - Y/N needs a wedding date, and this time Harry’s not giving up.

wattpad link

After Harry had left Holmes Chapel, every spark of joy in Y/N's life slowly died out with the part of him inside of her. The day she turned fifteen was also the first time she'd spent a birthday alone. Celine was abroad for a three-month exchange program. Her grandma, who lived in Brighton had just passed away, so both of her parents had to go there for the funeral. Since she refused to come along, they left her home with her mother's younger sister, aunt Lynn, who was only twenty-two at the time and didn't even bother to remember her name.

"Sweet baby, do not tell your parents that I invite some friends over, okay? Your mum is gonna be so mad," the young woman said, holding Y/N by the shoulders and the teenage girl could only pay attention to the sound of her aunt chewing bubble gum. For some reasons, Lynn always had something in her mouth. If she wasn't chewing gum, she had to make sure her mouth was kept busy by eating something, or someone. Y/N had met her three times before but each time she was snogging a different guy. Sadly she was the only option for a 'babysitter', just because Y/N's parents didn't believe their fifteen-year-old daughter was capable of staying home alone.

"But today is—"

"Shit!" The woman exclaimed, holding her head. "You're right! It's Friday night, I should throw a party. Play with your dolls, baby. Your aunt has adult stuff to take care of."

"My dolls?" Y/N muttered under her breath as the bedroom door was slammed shut in front of her eyes. Putting on her favorite song and turning off all the lights, she lied down, staring at the spinning fan above her head.

All the kids her age probably spent their fifteenth getting drunk and making out with their crushes, or losing their virginity without their parents knowing. But there she was, locked in her room while her aunt was having all the fun she was supposed to have. For the first time in her life, she found herself alone. She'd always been a loner, yet she had never actually felt it until that night. She stayed utter still in silence, holding Thumper close to her chest. The stuffed animal could probably hear every sound of her heart cracking open. Her mother wasn't there to tell her what a woman she'd become, nor was Harry to sing her the birthday song. It was just her, alone in the dark, with a purple bunny that still smelt just like him.

Celine always said that working in the library was the worst decision Y/N had ever made, because there was no job more boring than organizing dusty old books. But the thing was, Y/N loved her boring job. She mainly got paid for sorting and shelving books according to their categorization, which wasn't really hard work, not to mention that Ms. Florence, the librarian, was really easy-going. Y/N got to spend most of her time in the fiction section, avoiding her responsibilities to read and write as much as she wanted. Besides, she really liked her co-worker, whose name was Alice.

Alice was a year younger than Y/N. She liked to talk and Y/N liked to listen, so they were pretty compatible. Finding a drinking buddy in university was easy, Y/N had plenty of them; the hard part was finding a buddy you could trust. So even though Alice wasn't what Y/N would consider a close friend, she could be someone to count on.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you're reading something?"

Alice's voice pulled Y/N's attention away from the novel on her lap, as she looked up and found the tiny brunette smiling at her. Y/N leaned back against the bookshelf, crossing her legs so there was room on the floor for Alice to sit down as well.

"I have a surprise for you, big sis!" Alice said, making Y/N roll her eyes and chuckle.

"You've found another porn book, haven't ya?"

"No! An actual surprise!" The younger girl giggled, then finally showed Y/N what she'd been hiding behind her back. "Ta-da! Two tickets to see Heathers!"

"Heathers The Musical?" Y/N dropped her jaw when the other girl nodded. "I love Heathers!"

"I bet you do! You seem like someone who enjoys dark comedy with tragic endings."

Alice's comment made her laugh, but she couldn't say it wasn't true. Her life itself was already a dark comedy.

"Are you giving me these for free?" She asked, pointing to the tickets and Alice's lips curved into a smile as she nodded fast in response.

"I bought these to go with a friend next week, but we're both gonna be busy that night. So just consider this as my temporary birthday gift to you. I'll buy you something else tomorrow."

"How do you know today's my birthday?" Y/N's eyes went round as her mouth fell open, yet the grin on the other girl's face only expanded.

"I was cleaning Ms. Florence's desk this morning when I found your CV. I didn't have time to actually get you something so—"

"Alice..."

"I know you hate birthdays, but please accept these tickets or else I'll die!"

Y/N rolled her eyes, chuckling a bit at how dramatic that sounded, but eventually, she accepted the birthday gift from her co-worker, and thanked the girl for being so thoughtful. "By the way, there's really no need to get me something else," she said, making Alice snort.

"Don't be silly! You're getting a proper birthday gift from me." Alice barely stood up when she flopped onto the floor again. "Oh, and one more thing! Do you wanna go out tonight? I know this pub that's—"

"No, thanks. I've got a lot of work to do tonight."

"But it's your birthday!"

Y/N gave the girl a shrug, lifting a corner of her mouth as she replied, "I never celebrate it."

"Boo, you suck!" Like a child, Alice blew up her cheeks, eyebrows knitted together. "But if you change your mind, ring me up, big sis!"

Y/N tried to contain her laughter as she watched Alice hop away and almost fall head first when she tripped over a stool. It was only when her clumsy co-worker had gone out of sight that Y/N finally checked her watch and realized her shift was just over. She rose from the floor to place the book back on the shelf, then put the tickets into her bag before heading out. Usually, she would always be the last person to leave, but since it was her birthday, she still wanted to do something special for herself, even if it was something as simple as going home before Ms. Florence.

Instead of taking the bus, that day Y/N decided to walk home. For the first time in two years living in that city, the girl finally paid attention to what was going on around her; it was also the first time she had realized how boring London had always been. The grey color of concrete dominated the entire city; it was hard to spot a hint of green anywhere, unlike Holmes Chapel, her home.

Y/N missed that place so much, now more than ever.

She missed the meadows behind her house at springtime, when all the wildflowers added vibrant colors to the fading green. She missed the tall pine trees surrounding a field full of white poppies. She used to run across that field, imagining herself in the opening scene of The Sound of Music, and she could still hear Harry's voice calling out "Bambi, wait for me!" as he tried to catch up with her.

He was the green that she missed the most.

The sound of her ringtone cut right through that thought, causing the vivid images before her eyes to fade back to monochrome. His name showed up on the screen, as if he knew she had been thinking about him.

"Hello?" She answered, standing close to the wall on her right so she wouldn't get in the way of the other pedestrians.

"Are you on the way home?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm just a few blocks away. Why?"

"I'm coming over."

She snorted, pursing her dry lips. "I'm busy tonight, remember? Birthday dinner with Isaac?" That lie was as smooth as melting butter coming from her mouth, yet her insides were heating up and her hands started to shake. She was glad he couldn't see the way she shut her eyes and pressed her lips into a firm line after lying to him.

"I'll see you in five."

"Wait, I said—" Y/N began, yet couldn't finish. Harry had already hung up on her.

The sun was sinking fast now, turning the sky to grey tinged with purple and pink. Harry was already waiting by his car outside the building when Y/N returned, standing with his back facing the ruby-red skyline. With golden-rays casting down upon him, Y/N thought Harry glowed even brighter than the sun itself. But of course, he didn't have to know.

"Happy birthday." His voice was husky and deep as he handed her a white poppy. "Just like the ones back home," he said, and the reluctance from her expression made him feel the need to add, "I didn't buy it. I stole it from a flower shop on the way here."

Y/N didn't know if that was true, but his slop-sided grin made her doubt every single one of his words.

"Headline: Harry Styles stole a flower for a mystery girl!" She said, swiping her hand across the air like she was presenting the idea to him, which only made the beam on his face grow twice as big as he pointed to his car. "Get in, kid," he told her. "Before what you said become reality."

"Where are we going?" She asked in hesitation.

"To your birthday party."

"My birthday party?! But I'm—"

"I'm sure we've got a lot of time before Isaac returns from Italy to take you to dinner."

That one sentence got Y/N tongue-tied. The girl couldn't make a single sound, instead, she was gawking at him like a fool. What did she expect though? He would find out sooner or later because he was still friends with Isaac. So all she could do at that moment was try to come up with an explanation, in case he asked her to tell him why she'd lied. However, he didn't ask her anything. Harry flashed a smile as he walked back to his car and told her to come along. But Y/N refused. She couldn't just follow him blindly without knowing exactly where they were going.

"You're not taking me to a fancy restaurant, are you?"

"Bambi, the last thing I want is for the paps to eat you alive." Harry chuckled and opened the car door for the girl. "Don't worry, kid. It's just gonna be the two of us."

The loud music and laughter from downstairs made it almost impossible for Y/N to even hear the voice inside her head. The birthday blues made it hard for her to stay awake, yet she couldn't sleep either, and there was no way she could talk her aunt into ending the party. Lynn was probably drunk off her ass right now, so Y/N knew the only place for her to be alone with her depressing thoughts was the treehouse. She hadn't gone back there since the night she last saw Harry, but she guessed it had become such a big part of her that she couldn't stay away no matter how much she'd tried.

Still in her pajamas, the fifteen-year-old climbed the rope ladder to get to her childhood spot. The floor was still wet from the rain yesterday, so she leaned against the doorway and stood there to ponder on her own. However, it didn't take her more than three minutes to burst into tears.

Y/N hated crying, it was physically and emotionally painful to cry, and when it was over, what was left was just...nothing. Emptiness. Nevertheless, crying was how Y/N understood herself best. When she cried, she knew who she was. And she had always thought, just like a heartbreak, though crying left her feeling empty when it was over, she would still sigh in relief, because, at least, she knew it was the end.

"Y/N!"

When she heard that voice, the girl stepped closer to the edge of the treehouse and looked down at her neighbor's garden, where she found Harry's big sister with one hand behind her back and the other waving in the air. Y/N quickly wiped away the remaining tears on her cheeks, feeling thankful because if Gemma had come earlier, she might have already seen Y/N bawling her eyes out.

"Gemma! When did you get back?"

"Just a couple days ago. I'm home for two weeks to work on my thesis." The other Styles chuckled. "Glad I found you out here, I was just about to come over."

"To see me?" Y/N lifted both eyebrows, pointing to herself and receiving a nod from her neighbor.

"Yeah, come down here. I have something for you."

The teenage girl hesitated a bit because she couldn't figure out why Gemma wanted to see her and had something for her. Even though she used to hang out with Harry, she was never that close to his older sister. But she climbed down anyway, curious to know what Gemma had behind her back.

"Happy birthday," said the 23-year-old as she handed Y/N the birthday gift she'd been hiding that whole time.

A snow globe.

It didn't have a snowman and a Christmas tree like the ones you normally found in souvenir shops. The one Gemma gave her had colorful glitter inside instead of fake snow; and it was a miniature London, with tiny versions of Big Ben, the London Eye, and the Tower Bridge.

But all Y/N could see, was a person.

"You remember my birthday?" The younger girl asked quietly as she received the gift from her lovely neighbor, who was smiling from ear to ear.

"Of course," Gemma said. "I came to your birthday party every year. But I guess you don't like them anymore, huh?"

"Yeah..." Y/N faked a laugh, hoping her awkward eye-roll didn't give away the fact that she was just lonely.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I must get back to work now."

"Sure. Thanks for the nice gift," said Y/N. "Where did you get it by the way?"

"Bought it when I was in London last week."

Y/N didn't say anything else and just watched the older girl walk back to her house. Of course, she wanted to ask Gemma about Harry, but it was so sad to even think about him right now. His sister remembered her birthday and even got her a present, yet she hadn't heard a single word from him since the day he left. He was supposed to be her friend, or was it just another thing she had fooled herself into believing?

Holding the little London between her palms, she thought that maybe it was time to let go of the London inside her heart.

"Don't peek!"

"I'm not peeking!"

Y/N giggled, holding the hand that was covering her eyes as Harry carefully led her up the stairs, giving her directions so she wouldn't trip and cause them both to fall over. She extended her arms once they had reached the top, feeling the cold metal surface in front of them. The creaking sound caused her to flinch, so Harry quickly reassured the girl that it was just him opening the door. She could feel his other hand reaching around her waist to pull the handle, and a cold breeze blew right through her thin shirt. Y/N immediately took a step backward and bumped into Harry's firm chest. She felt the pressure of his fingertips on her hip as he gently pushed her forward, for the third time that night, telling her to trust him.

"If I didn't trust you I wouldn't have walked up all these floors with my eyes closed." She giggled, and his soft laughter sent shivers down her spine.

"Sit," he ordered, holding the girl by the arms to guide her into a chair; and when she was finally seated, Harry leaned in so his lips were close to her ear as he whispered, "open your eyes."

Y/N did what she was told.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The girl had begun to envision her surroundings ever since the cool air hit her skin for the first time as she stepped out, yet what she saw was far from her imagination.

They were sitting on a rooftop of a tall building somewhere in London. From her spot, Y/N could see the entire city spread below, tiny vehicles rushing along tangled roads. The city lights looked like stars dropping to the Earth, making her feel as if they were being squeezed between two galaxies. There were no words magical enough to describe what she was seeing, so Y/N didn't say anything, and just took in a deep breath to let it go with the biggest smile on her face.

It was windy on the roof, so Harry took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. They sat side by side on two wooden chairs, staring at the city and the sky above, completely mesmerized by such beauty, which had completely changed Y/N's opinion about London. Maybe from a different and higher view, it wasn't plain and dull after all.

"Almost like Holmes Chapel, huh?" She heard him speak and turned to look at him. Harry was gazing up with a beam on his face as he pointed to the sky, and told her the names of the stars he knew, not aware that she wasn't really listening. She was too busy looking at him, and thinking, maybe somewhere underneath that man was still the little boy she used to know.

"Oh, I forgot!" He suddenly flinched and turned to pick up the box at his feet. "I made this for you. But...the rest of the batch...already ended up in the trash bin."

He opened the box and revealed one single cupcake with a candle on top. It didn't look terrible, still, it wasn't a very pretty cupcake either. But if that was the best out of the whole batch, Y/N couldn't help but snort as she tried to imagine what the other ones looked like.

"Hey, don't laugh at me! At least I tried!"

"Okay, okay." Y/N bit her lip to hold back a smile. She didn't know why it was so endearing that he'd exerted himself to make her one cupcake. Even if he'd got it from a store instead, she would still be overjoyed.

"Can I eat it now?" She asked, but he quickly shook his head no.

"You have to make a wish first."

Y/N giggled, eyes bored into Harry as he looked around to find something else. "Shit!" His jaw went slack. "The lighter! I forgot the lighter."

"Relax, lemme check," Y/N mumbled, reaching inside the inner pocket of his coat to search for the object, and she felt something like a little triangle box, assuming it was the lighter. But when she took it out, both of them froze as they saw what it really was.

A pack of cigarettes.

Y/N's mouth fell open, she was speechless, and so was he. "Harry..." Her voice was quiet when she looked at him. "Do you smoke?"

"No." He shook his head fast. "N-Not anymore."

"Really?"

"Why would I lie?" A blush crept up his face as he made eye-contact with her. "If I still smoked, I would have a lighter with me, right?"

That sounded like a good enough reason for her to believe him. Moreover, he didn't smell like someone who smoked, and she'd never seen him with a cigarette between his fingers before. So apparently he was telling the truth. Y/N inhaled deeply as she nodded, squeezing his hand for more assurance.

"Smoking could kill you. So don't...don't go back to it..." The way she could barely maintain eye contact while saying that to him made his heart flutter somehow. He took her other hand, linking their fingers together as he asked, "are you worried about me?"

"Of course I am," she said without pause. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

The corners of her mouth turned down and her whole face contorted so he knew she was serious when she said those words. After all this time, he still mattered to her; and knowing that was like getting a heavy weight lifted off his chest.

Harry sank into his chair, holding the mini calendar above his face. "It's already April," he mumbled to himself, but his roommate Isaac assumed Harry was talking to him, so he replied, "yeah, almost time for finals."

It wasn't finals that came to Harry's mind when he thought about April, it was a birthday actually. He rarely remembered birthdays, and sometimes he forgot his own; but for some reasons, he always remembered hers. He hadn't spoken to Y/N since the night he left, and he could never forget the way she looked at him when she asked him to kiss her. It was awkward, yet it was sad. She truly cared about him, and he could never repay the same kind of feelings because she was too young. So he didn't know how to talk to her again after everything she'd confessed. The last thing he wanted was to lead her on and lull her into believing that one day he might feel the same. He knew he could never like her back the way she wanted him to.

However, it would be a lie to say he didn't miss her. He missed her a lot. How could he forget about his little Bambi? She was the only girl he'd spent the best years of his childhood protecting and looking after. She was something more than just the girl next door, and he kept the image on her face on the treehouse that night in his memory as he left Holmes Chapel with no intention of coming back. Every time he thought about her, a part of him wanted to pay her a visit, but he was glad he didn't change his mind. But now her birthday was coming close, and he knew she wanted him to be there with her. He wanted to be there with her. But he couldn't.

"Isaac," Harry broke the silence in the dorm room, turning his head to look at his best friend who was lying on the bed. "What should I give a fifteen-year-old girl for her birthday?"

The sudden question made Isaac lift an eyebrow. "I thought you only had a big sister?"

"Uhm...it's actually for my...my...cousin."

"Well, I'm bad at this stuff. Why don't you ask Niall?"

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "He would just give me crazy ideas."

"Then ask the birthday girl herself." Isaac shrugged, sticking out his bottom lip. "I mean, try to be subtle and find out what she likes without giving away the fact that you don't know what to get her."

If only it was that easy. Harry shook his head and put the calendar back down. He used to be the one who knew about her more than anyone else, probably only second to her mother, he should be able to know what she liked, but right now he didn't. He knew nothing about her anymore. It was only then that he started to feel bad for all the time he didn't spend with her. But had he not kept his distance, their goodbye would've been much harder.

So he tried to think, swirling the pencil in his hand for a couple seconds. And finally, an idea came to his mind. Maybe there could be a way for him to come back to her after all.

For the rest of the night, Harry and Y/N sat in their chairs, eating pizza for dinner while discussing irrelevant topics like the existence of aliens, strange kinds of flowers, as well as their favorite movies, songs, and books. Soon both grew tired so they fell back to silence. He was staring at the city, and she was taking in the sight of him.

"Are you mad that I lied to you?" Her sudden question made him turn around with an eyebrow raised. "You know, about Isaac."

"I'm not mad at you, kid. But I'd like to know what happened..." Harry couldn't say he had heard most of the story from Niall because he wanted Y/N to tell him herself, if she trusted him enough, and of course, he didn't expect her to. But somehow she did. She ended up telling him everything.

"I didn't want Isaac to turn down the job offer for a relationship that would probably never work." She sighed with her chin on her knuckles, hooded eyes staring blankly ahead. "I liked him a lot. And I thought to myself that if he asked me to be his girlfriend, I would say yes immediately. But when it happened, I got scared. I couldn't let him in because I was afraid that if he knew too much about me, he wouldn't like me anymore. I guess I'm just not ready to fall in love again, and I don't want him to wait for me to be ready. My first and only relationship didn't end very well. So I didn't have the heart to let the same thing happen to us." Holding her breath, she said, "He's too good for me anyway. I'm better off alone."

"Nobody is better off alone," Harry spoke at last, a line appeared between his brows. "Everyone needs someone."

"Not me." She shrugged, and the look in her eyes broke his heart in a million pieces. "I'm sorry I had to lie to you...I didn't want you to do anything for my birthday. I've troubled you enough already."

"But you're not troubling me, love. I did all of this because I wanted to. I...I care about you."

She couldn't remember the last time she heard him say those words, or if he'd ever said them at all. So to hear them now made her feel happy and sad at the same time. If there was one thing that she'd learned from their 'relationship' it would be, Harry's words weren't always credible.

"How did you find this place though?" She changed the subject, putting on a smile to lighten up the mood, which had gotten a bit blue since Isaac was mentioned. She could see it from the look on his face that he was also glad she'd brought up something else.

"Niall's uncle owns this building. They're doing some reconstructing so it's closed for a couple months. It might be the only place we could be together without people bothering us."

"Thank you." Y/N took in a long breath as she smiled. "I've never seen London so beautiful."

"Agreed." Harry nodded fast. In this bad lighting, his dimples seemed even deeper than they actually were. "But my favorite is the winter time. The city looks best when it's covered in snow."

Those last words made Y/N's head turn as her eyes went round.

"It was you, wasn't it?" she cried out, causing the man to jump in shock. He was meant to ask, but she didn't even let him have his chance. "The snow globe! You asked Gemma to give it to me, did you?!"

"Ouch!" He yelped when she smacked him hard on the arm. The girl didn't look very sorry when he rubbed the sore spot and his brows drew together in utter perplexity.

"Why did you ask her to lie for you?! I was so sad, I thought you didn't remember my birthday!"

"I thought it was for the best if you forgot about me, after..."

There was a pause, a gap for her to fill in.

"Our first kiss...I know," she mumbled at last.

It was weird to talk about it now, since both of them had been pretending like the kiss she'd stolen from him when she was fourteen had never happened. After all, she was fourteen at the time, he couldn't blame her for acting so impulsive. But recently he'd been thinking about it and wondering if her feelings back then had been all true.

Her eyes darted as she whispered under her breath, but still loud enough for him to hear, "why didn't you send me anything on my birthday next year or the ones after that?"

"I...I wanted to...I almost did." He swallowed hard while fidgeting in his seat. "But Gemma said you were seeing this boy, so I thought I should stay away from your life and let you forget about me for good. Then time passed and I actually didn't think a lot about you, until..."

She nodded without waiting for him to finish, her lashes fluttered as sadness overtook her face. After a moment of thinking, she asked, "if you could turn back time, would you come back to see me?"

"Yes," he answered. "Without a second thought."

Y/N had seen Harry in a lot of different situations, yet she'd never seen him like that, all flustered and ill at ease. She loved the way the rings on his fingers sparkled as he was nervously toying with the hem of his shirt. She loved it when even under the dim lights surrounding them, she could see a blush creep up his face. She knew better, that it was never good when she felt so drawn to him, yet she couldn't stop, so she released a slight laugh, which got his attention.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked.

Shaking her head with the grin still remained, she said, "nothing."

As he walked with her five floors up to her flat, Harry struggled to find something to say so the silence carried on until they reached her front door. He couldn't explain why he was at a loss for words every time he stood in front of her. He knew her well, he'd grown up with this girl. But deep down inside he knew it wasn't like that, not anymore. He knew his heart had more to say about her than it should, and the way it began to race whenever she was around had him frustrated most of the times.

He watched her unlock her front door and turn to say goodbye. But just when she was about to leave, he stopped her by taking her hand. It wasn't the first time they'd held hands, still, he let hers go after about two seconds like it was hot coal burning his skin. Maybe it was, maybe she was, yet he couldn't stay away because he enjoyed the burn. With round Bambi eyes, she stared at him, slightly puzzled by his strange behaviors. Harry asked her to wait. He searched in his pants pocket, finally pulling out a silver locket necklace.

"Your birthday present."

"Harry—"

He shushed her right away, telling her to turn around as he took a step closer to put the chain around her neck. His fingers brushed against her collarbone only once, but it was enough for both of them to flinch at the contact. Y/N gently touched the heart-shaped locket now lying on her chest, then opened it to find a tiny photo of her mother.

"So you could always keep her by your heart," he whispered, his voice was low and hot against her ear.

Slowly, Y/N turned around, but Harry didn't pull away so they were just one step away from pressing against each other. She meant to just thank him and go inside her flat, but as she parted her lip, not a single sound managed to escape. Her cheeks turned pink, her bottom lip was quivering as she batted her lashes. She had never looked into his eyes for that long, and the look he was giving her made her pupils dilated. It was the same look she'd seen him give that blonde haired girl on the treehouse when he was seventeen. He had never looked at Y/N that way before, and now he did. If only she could read his mind, she would know he was also trying to do the same.

Harry knew it was wrong, but he couldn't resist. The last time he had the same feeling, he wasn't thinking straight so he went for it by instinct. Now he knew exactly what was happening, and still, he didn't stop it. He leaned in a little closer, their foreheads touching. He expected her to pull away or even slap him for making that bold move, yet she stayed exactly where she was, chest heaving with anticipation. Her scent was flooding his senses, and the second he finally found the courage to place his hands on her hips, it was she who decided the next move.

Her lips brushed against his. Not innocently, but hot and passionately, he wanted to pull away before he lost control, but like a magnet, she drew him in more and now he was stuck. "Harry," she whispered slowly, making his heart flutter as he clasped his hands on either side of her face.

That kiss wasn't like the first or the second, this time it was an open-mouthed, almost sexual kiss. He pushed her against the door, loving the way her body melted into his as their lips fitted perfectly like they were made for each other. She held his hair and he held her so tight as if he was afraid it wasn't real, and she would disappear the moment he loosened his grip. They broke away after what seemed like ages, and from the look in her eyes, he could tell she expected him to run, just like he had before.

But he didn't. Even if he wanted to, he knew his trembling feet wouldn't let him. She stood with her back against the door, him with one hand on her hip, the other fisted to rest beside her head. He inhaled sharply and she was still trying to steady her breathing. It took almost five seconds for either to open their eyes and look at the other person.

"Goodnight," she mumbled, reaching behind for the doorknob and the next thing he knew, she had fled inside and shut the door right in front of his face. Harry was left standing in the hallway like an idiot, not knowing what to do next. He lifted a fist, about to knock because there were still many things that he wanted to say to her, an apology was one of which. But he thought again and decided that he should probably go.

Harry left the building, stepping out on the street with his head still on the cloud as he kept touching his lips, trying not to smile so big or else people would think he was insane. But maybe he was, because he was too happy to act differently. He got into his car and sat there with both hands on the steering wheel, head tossed back, smiling contently. His whole face was red, but he didn't really mind. He was soaked in the scent of her perfume, and all he could think about was how he could possibly fall asleep with every trace of her lingering on his body.

His phone lit up in the dark, notifying a new text from Bambi which got him to sit up straight at once. His heart could've exploded when he read the first line, if the next one hadn't come on in less than a second.

⌲ Bambi: That kiss was a mistake.

⌲ Bambi: You're gonna have to earn it next time.

⌲ Next time? :)

⌲ Bambi: Don't be smug about it!

⌲ I'm not! But wait, on the scale from 1-10, how great was tonight? (minus the kiss)

⌲ Bambi: 7/10 (including the kiss)

⌲ Heeeeeey!

Sitting at her working desk, chin resting on her palm, Y/N cracked a smile. The birthday surprise, as well as the kiss they'd shared in the hallway, were definitely 11/10. But she couldn't give it to him that easily. She placed her phone down, leaving his latest message on read as she touched the chain around her neck once again.

The London snow globe was still sitting on her desk, and she hadn't touched it in so long that it was a bit dusty now. She kept it there so it could remind her of the terrible birthday she should already forget, but she didn't want to. It was a way of telling herself that sometimes the people you loved would leave you behind, and that was just a cruel fact of life that one should just accept and carry on. But now that she knew it wasn't all true, the way she felt about the snow globe had also changed.

Quickly, she typed down 'Thank you for the locket' and sent it to him, then while waiting for him to reply, she sent another text right after.

⌲ I have two tickets to see Heathers The Musical

⌲ H: Yes.

⌲ I haven't even asked?

⌲ H: Whatever you're gonna ask, it's a yes.

⌲ Have you even watched Heathers?

⌲ H: There's always Google! Send me the date and time, my assistant will get back to you shortly.

⌲ Haha funny.

Y/N rolled her eyes and giggled as she snapped a quick shot of the tickets Alice had given her and sent it to him.

⌲ H: Wednesday night! I'm free!

⌲ You sure there's not another award show that night? I'm gonna kill you if you skip another one for me.

⌲ H: Nah I'm not supposed to attend any event next week. If you don't believe me, google it!

⌲ Oh God.

⌲ H: Say that instead of my name 'next time'.

Y/N's face turned scarlet when she read that line. She sucked in her bottom lip, face-palming herself with her eyes shut and wishing she hadn't moaned his name into the kiss. That couldn't have been more embarrassing. She typed down a few words, trying to come up with a reply that would save herself from the humiliation, yet she kept typing and deleting for three times or so. Then came two new messages from him.

⌲ H: It's late. Go to sleep Bambi. Good night.

⌲ H: Once again, happy birthday! :)

The twenty-year-old smiled to herself as she sent him back a goodnight text. Y/N knew she should get to bed now if she wanted to wake up early for a class in the morning. But she also knew it would take forever for her to fall asleep. This time, fortunately, it wasn't gonna be the birthday blues that kept her up all night.

#my girls series #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfics #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #bestfriend!harry #older!harry #actor!harry

793 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

To Be Seen

02/26/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader Word Count: 9,079

*Masterpost in Notes

Warnings: language, smut, angst, alcohol consumption, drunk sex

A/N: So, this turned into something I wasn’t expecting. I haven’t edited it because I’m hurting and I don’t have the energy to go back and fix it. So please excuse the typos if there are any. There probably are. I’ll come back and fix it all when I feel better. I’m thinking this will be a mini-series because I don’t want to leave the characters yet and would like to explore them some more. I hope y’all like it. As always if you reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You're heartbroken.

The agony ripping through your chest you’ve known before. You’re familiar with rejection. Over the years the bitter sting of once again not being enough to be wanted or desired has become a toxic friend.

Rather than every wound healing to make you stronger, it has only broken you more. Conditioned you into a fearful and hopeless response when your eye is caught by some person or other.

It's also not like you fall often. It takes you ages to move on. Which leaves you caught in the limbo of pining for someone you know you can never have.

You sniffle, overcome with sorrow as you replay the soft expression on his face. His name doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that as you sat beside him in the small local park, body burning from being so close to him on the stone bench you’d first met, you’d been happy to just be near him.

He was no Adonis. It's not like he had movie star good looks or that he was some ideal that everyone wished for. What he was, was nice. He was sweet and considerate and funny. He had gorgeous green eyes and a soft smile.

His teeth weren’t perfect, but they didn’t make him less attractive to you. They were normal. He was normal. Extraordinary because you cared about him.

After two months of getting to know him, two months over which you fell more and more for him, your crush taking solid hold, you’d done what you swore you wouldn’t do again.

After last time you should have learned your lesson.

“I like you.” Your soft voice, uncertain and barely confident had seeped out those dreaded words without your permission.

He'd made you laugh, made you feel safe, and without your consent you confessed.

The stunned silence that followed had been stressful. Your hands were suddenly numb and your heart had stalled completely as you and he were suspended in unbearable awkwardness.

You’d wanted to take your words back. You hadn’t truly been ready to tell him. You'd just gotten caught up in the moment. Stupid!

Then he'd turned to you, watching you with those stunning eyes and you recognized the guilty shift.

“I…I’m flattered, Y/N but I-"

He was so sorry to say it, sorry to hurt you. Why did this always happen? Why you? What was wrong with you? What were you missing?

You weren’t the most outgoing but with the people you liked you were an open book. You were polite about it, speaking your mind while being considerate to respect the opinions of everyone else. You rarely lost your temper and when you did you never misdirected it and let someone else feel your rage.

You weren't a genius, but you had your smarts. In your own way you were pretty. You didn’t think you were lacking there. Perhaps your beauty, what you saw when you looked in the mirror, wasn't enough?

You'd always been grateful for what you had. Maybe you weren’t a supermodel, but you were you. You had your own charms. Or did you?

Why couldn’t any of them see you? Why couldn’t they, just once, like you back?

You'd quickly reminded him that he'd said he had an appointment, by which you knew he meant date, before he could finish his sentence.

You hadn’t wanted to hear another speech about how you were sweet or so nice or such a good friend.

He’d continued to stare at you until you gestured behind him where a girl, much closer to a supermodel than you were with her flowing blonde beach waves, large sweet smile, and big blue eyes had stood waiting in a short white and pastel blue floral dress.

You’d compared yourself to her even though you knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. You were you and she was herself…but why her? Why not you?

“You should go, your appointment is waiting.”

“Y/N…?” He'd said, that guilt in his voice twisting your gut.

“Don’t keep her waiting. It's not polite. Especially when she can see you sitting with another girl. Even if there’s nothing between you and the other girl it can cause misunderstandings.” You gave him a quick smile, trying to ease his conscience but failing.

“Y/N…”

“Please, just go.” You’d quietly begged almost losing your voice completely as you’d turned your gaze down onto his hands which had slid towards you, but he still wouldn’t reach out.

You knew he wouldn’t and still part of you had hoped.

He’d risen slowly and you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. They were always nice guys. They always hated to hurt you. But they always hurt you any way. It wasn’t their fault. You know that.

They hadn’t made you like them. They hadn’t made you confess. You’d done it on your own and so the heartbreak had always been on you. As much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted to be the one who was in the right, you had never been and never will be. He hadn’t led you on. He hadn’t made promises and broken them. All he’d done was be nice. You’d fallen for him all on your own.

Maybe this time you’d finally learn your lesson?

“We’re not done talking about this, Y/N.” He’d said sternly as if he were trying to settle that your confession was more important than you both knew it really was.

You’d known the truth of what he was doing. If he’d really cared, if it had really mattered, no other girl could have kept him from reaching out to you right then, in that moment. It’s not like he was married or in a relationship. He’d told you he was single. Had it really mattered that you’d just told him you liked him, he’d have apologized to the other girl and the two of you would have talked.

Instead he continued to stare down at you.

“Y/N?” He’d repeated with more authority, but you were unmoved.

“Just go. She’s getting upset.” He’d followed your gaze and sure enough the pretty blonde was standing with a frown on her face, contorting her beautiful smile into a nasty pout.

To you she hadn’t looked so beautiful right then, but it was enough to finally pull him away.

“We’ll talk later.” He’d insisted one final time before he turned and hurried to his date.

You’d watched him place his hands on her biceps. She’d pouted a bit more prettily as he got closer, and he’d pulled her in for a quick hug before leading her out of the park without glancing back.

He’d left you sitting on the bench, staring across the small and worn brick path at the small pond where birds, squirrels, and other small wildlife gathered during the daytime, unafraid of human presence.

You hate thinking about it again and again, but it replays itself in your head over and over.

You kick the ground, scuffing up your sneaker as you sniffle again then reach up to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Very attractive.

You haven’t cried much this time which is a big improvement to your last crush.

“I’ll never like anyone ever again.” You grumble forlornly as you kick the ground again, dislodging a brick and smacking your toe. “Ow!”

You fold your leg up and quickly curl both hands around your large right toe. It feels like you’ve broken it. It’s throbbing and hot. You really want to take off your shoe.

“Oh, sorry. Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude.” A deep rumbling baritone hits your ears like a soothing song.

You sniffle again, hating your runny nose and look up for the source of the intrusion to your multilayered and self-inflicted torture.

You should be shocked by what you see because you’ve never seen any of the Avengers in person, well except for Mr. Stark. However, you’re not shocked. In fact you look down at your foot before lowering it back to the ground as you wiggle your big toe. Definitely not broken.

“You’re not intruding.” He speaks in a funny cadence, accented. It’s pleasing.

You look at him again as you sniffle once more. He’s tall, really tall. He’d tower over you, your head barely reaching his chest if you stand up. He’s large too. Muscles rippling underneath a black heather shirt as he stops his casual walk and slowly shoves his hands into the front pockets of his black jeans. His brown leather boots look the newest. They’re dark and glossy. He’s also wearing a watch—why would he need a watch?—and a few silver rings on his fingers. Large manly rings. Has he acclimated so much to living here with the team that he’s taken to caring about Earth’s fashion?

Your eyes roam over the exposed skin of his clavicle, the two top buttons of his shirt left unbuttoned flashing browned peach skin. He’s so tan. His short blonde hair and full but well-manicured beard looks almost brown save for the soft golden flecks that the sun illuminates as he teeters back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I felt as if I was.” He insists. “May I join you?”

“It’s a free country.” You counter with a final sniffle. “Mostly.”

He smiles sweetly, no teeth, just a soft curve of his full pink lips. They’re wide and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He seems to genuinely be smiling at you as he moves over to you and sits to your left. He’s large closer. He takes up a lot of space.

You turn your gaze back across the path to the pond and wonder about the heat radiating off of his body. Is it an Asgardian thing?

“I am Thor, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself simply. He won’t remember you later anyway. “And I know who you are, Mr. Thor.”

That sounds weird.

“Please, just Thor.” He waves off your formality. “Hold on, how do you know who I am?”

“Doesn’t everyone know the Avengers?” You shrug and look up a little higher at the beautiful wine, grape, and pearl colored butterfly flowers across the pond.

“Oh, right.”

You feel a little guilty about not being a hundred percent truthful, so you come clean.

“I uh…I also work in the compound.” Your hesitancy draws his brow to a pucker, and you stare this time, his confusion looks funny and for a moment you forget today’s disappointment.

“I have never seen you before. What department do you work for?”

“You wouldn’t have seen me, I’m kept in the back. Hidden from view. I fix everyone’s suits. Me and a few other people. Did you think Captain America’s Kevlar just magically stitched itself back up?” You tease.

“Sort of. Is it a hard job?” He rests his hands beside his thighs, leaning forward as he attempts to get a better look at your face.

“Just a thankless one. I fix your cape and then you just go and tear it again.”

“You have fixed my cape?” He asks, astonished. You know why. Asgardian material is difficult to work with sometimes. When the tears are too big you’ve had to find a weave that is similar.

“Every time you’ve torn it. I had to shorten it a few times and fill it in with some of the stuff we have here on Earth. You know, if you want to make my job easier, next time you happen to be around whatever provides the thread and material for your cape, you’d remember to bring me some.” You feel distracted enough that you smile at him kindly.

It doesn’t reach your eyes and he seems to see that because he frowns.

Feeling exposed, you turn tender eyes back onto the pond and shift uneasily in your seat.

“I shall keep that in mind.” He assures you. “Is something wrong? When I found you, it appeared as if you had been crying.”

Damn.

“Your eyes are still red.” He continues relentlessly.

You sigh and cross your arms across your chest, hating to be so obvious.

“If you do not wish to tell me-”

“I don’t.” You reply quickly. “But…it’s no secret. I’m kind of a loser when it comes to romance and I confessed to a guy I was crushing on.”

“Crushing on?” Thor asks, that cute look of confusion shaping his chiseled features again.

“Someone that I have an interest in being with. Someone I like.” You explain gently.

“Ah. What is wrong with confessing? Unless of course he…Oh. I see.” Thor realizes what must have happened.

“He doesn’t feel the same way.” You confirm for him and he turns to look out across the path at the pond too. “It’s a stupid reason to cry.”

“Love is a very powerful emotion. The strongest, I would say.”

“I don’t love him.”

Your eyes are suddenly wide as you think about the big ‘L’ word. You definitely don’t love him.

“Perhaps not, but an attraction that would bring one to tears is sure to have been deep and with the potential for love. It is a sad thing to lose. A terrible hope to crush. I am sorry that this man did not return your affections.”

Thor’s right of course. And as he talks about the potential you’d seen with him, the future that now you know for sure is lost forever, you feel your chest give way again and let the pain back in.

Your lip trembles and your eyes spring with large salty tears. You turn away from Thor, angling your body towards the small empty gazebo. It’s surrounded on all sides by wild flowers and tall grass. It’s picturesque and pretty but you don’t see it. All you see is your rejection. Not just this one. All of them. This isn’t so much about him anymore. It’s about all of them. One after the other. Blow after blow. How much more can you take?

You jump slightly as a warm graze prompts you to turn back towards your left. Thor’s hand rests against the side of your bicep with a neatly folded handkerchief clutched between his thumb and forefinger.

After staring at the small square for a few seconds, you look up at Thor expecting to find him watching you but he’s not. His eyes are courteously trained across the pond to give you your privacy. You take the piece of fabric and carefully unfurl it.

“Thank you.” You offer thickly.

“You are most welcome.”

You wipe your cheeks and eyes first then your nose before balling the fabric into your hand. You’re not handing it back to him until you’ve washed it. Gross.

“This place is charming. I’ve never seen such a collection of flowers in one location. Not like this.” He gestures around at the way the flowers grow in whichever direction they want to among other flowers that look nothing alike. The wild grass and the barely maintained pathways all lend to the beauty of the garden.

“It’s a wild flower garden. It’s maintained by some of the locals and they plant new flowers every season. Some spring up on their own. The point is not to control it but to let it grow on its own. It’s pretty.”

You’re suddenly smiling again, glancing around at the numerous flowers and the way their contrasting colors oddly compliment each other. The soft song of bluebirds, common sparrows, and cardinals fills the air pleasantly once again, for a moment, making you forget your sadness.

“That it is. Very beautiful.” His voice is soft as velvet and quiet so that only you might hear him.

Suddenly, you spot a bright red cardinal. It stops first on a stone in the pond then flitters over to the gazebo and hops forward along the railing.

Quickly you turn to Thor to see if he’s seen it too but instead find him watching you. “Did you see-What? What is it?”

You reach up to quickly wipe at your nose and then at your cheeks. Had you made a mess of yourself?

“Nothing.” Thor says with a shake of his head. “So, who was this man who rejected you? A fool no doubt?”

Great. You’re back on this topic. “Just one of the guys from work. No one important.”

“That cannot be true if he has made you shed tears like this. Shall I give him a stern talking to? Perhaps he simply needs a guiding hand to lead him down the proper path?” Thor offers, the threat clear in his tone though it’s slightly teasing and the smirk on his lips affirms the joke.

“Really, he’s just another guy. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it and then I’ll probably fall for another guy who won’t like me back and I’ll repeat this process over and over. It’s my own personal time loop. Doomed to repeat the same mistake again and again, somehow expecting a different result. Which means I’m crazy. So, I’m fucked.”

You sigh heavily and beside you, Thor answers you with his own long sigh. “Hmmmm.”

Watching him, you can see the cogs in his brain turning.

“I need a drink.” He concludes. “And I do not like to drink alone but my friends are away on mission. Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the local bar?”

“Me?” You laugh because it sounds stupid. You and Thor in a bar? Drinking? If anyone from work saw you out with him it would cause quite a lot of gossip. Not that you care about the gossip. It’s just strange.

“Yes. I have enjoyed our brief conversation and would like to continue. I beg you, do not let me drink alone. Join me. I shall pay.” He asks again.

“I don’t know, Thor…” A drink sounds great but you’re also a terribly emotional drunk. “I’m not exactly a stable drunk.”

“You need not get drunk. Just one drink to relax and forget your trouble for a few hours. That is all I ask.”

“Thor…”

“Please! Please join me. I will not take no for an answer. Unless you really do not wish to go in which case, I cannot force you though I will be very lonely and depressed to be drinking without you at my side.”

You watch the uncertain expression on his face and measure up his invitation and the look of sincerity on his face. His lips suddenly curve into a very small pout and you laugh. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Excellent. We shall imbibe into the wee hours of the night and laugh and celebrate with great joy that I have made a new friend and that you are rid of your crush and shall soon find a man worthy of your affections.”

“Right.” You sigh again, highly doubtful that he might ever be close to right.

Thor rises and towers over you as he offers you his large hands. Your stomach twists nervously. Are you making a mistake? What if you become a mess after having a few drinks? It would be so embarrassing to fall to pieces in front of Thor. It would be embarrassing to fall to pieces in front of anyone, but especially Thor since now he knows who you are and that you work at the compound.

You carefully slide both of your hands into his. They’re calloused and warm. Rough, manly hands but soothing in their heat. He closes his around yours, devouring them in their enormity, and gently gives you a tug to your feet.

“Promise me something?” You ask him as you fall into the space before him, turning your chin up to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Anything, Y/N.” His lips curve into that sweet soft smile from before and you can’t believe how close he is. This man is an Adonis. Perfect and so out of your league that your mind and body reject the idea of him immediately. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“Please don’t let me get drunk. I’d hate to do something stupid now that you know I work for Mr. Stark.”

“I promise, on my honor, I shall keep you safe and ensure that you do not become intoxicated.” He drops his hands and with his hefty assurance, you follow.

The world is spinning. You can feel strong hot hands hovering around your waist as you spin in circles, blurring the room around you. You can still vaguely hear the steady and bopping beat of Deniece Williams’s ‘Let’ Hear It for the Boy’. It fills your body with unbridled joy, and you can’t fight the rhythm as it prompts you into a final spin.

A deep chuckle reaches your ears making your chest feel warm. You look for it’s source and find Thor standing before you, his eyes focused on you completely but he’s a lot shorter. How did he get down there?

“Hey…” You slur and reach down to place your hands on his wide shoulders. They’re so firm. You give them a squeeze. “How’d you get so short?”

Thor’s smile widens. “Perhaps your drink had a potion to make you taller?”

“We don’t have potions here on Earth, silly.” You giggle as his joke makes no sense.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” He blinks slowly, smiling softly up at you. “Then perhaps you should come down from the table and we might correct my height. However, if I am honest, I cannot say that I mind this view.”

You’re not sure what his words mean. You shut one eye, watching him in confusion. Is he flirting? It kinda sounds like he is but your mind is so befuddled that you can’t decipher his meaning.

“You like being short?” You stupidly surmise.

“If it means that I can look up at you, why not?”

What the hell does that mean? Frustrated, you semi-explode. Luckily, you’re not a screamer when you drink. You’re just prone to strong shifts of emotion.

“Are you flirting with me?!”

Thor laughs. “I might be. Come down. I would hate it if you fell down and hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” You laugh like an idiot and with his hands firmly held on your waist you let him lead you first down onto the seat of your booth and then onto solid ground. “Woah.”

You sway unsteadily but Thor catches you up, wrapping his left arm around you loosely as he waves to the bartender across the emptying room.

“Some water, I think.”

Suddenly, the bar is filled with the infectious notes of ‘You Make My Dreams’ by Hall & Oates. As if it is beyond your control, your body begins to respond and there, within Thor’s arm, you begin to dance again. You sway your hips left and right then like a deranged but rhythmic tornado you spin again, laughing.

“You make my dreams come true!” You laugh again, singing excitedly. “Oo-oo, oo, oo, oo-oo.”

“If I had known you would enjoy music this much, I might have chosen a venue where we could have danced.” Thor doesn’t let you go and let’s you dance around him.

At least until the bartender approaches with two glasses. He places them down on your table and Thor wraps his arm more firmly around you as you spin again to stop your dancing.

You’re so disoriented and dizzy but your body feels happy and warm. He’d stopped you mid-spin, pressing you back against his large body with your back pressed against his front. You squirm in his grip, eager to keep dancing.

“Gods save me...Please do not move so, Y/N.” His voice is suddenly nervous as he leads you back to the table. “I am still a man and your hips are taunting.”

“Why? I wanna dance.” You completely didn’t hear his reason.

“You were not kidding about not letting you get drunk. Come, sit. Let us drink a little water and then if you wish to dance again, you may.” He moves to your side of the booth and turns you around then with large hands on your shoulders he sits you down. He slides a glass of water over to you and you stare at it with a small pout. The Police’s ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ just came on!

As Thor drops into the seat opposite you, you finally allow your eyes to roam over the space again. The bar is nothing great. A hole in the wall, probably privately owned. Nothing fancy but it’s nice. It’s one of those bars that you choose to go to every day, and it becomes a regular space to inhabit where everyone seems to know each other. You remember the bartender greeting Thor as if he knew him and the way he brought Thor’s drink without being asked for it.

You wrap your hands around your glass of water and appreciate the dim lighting and the plush blue cushion you’re sitting on. There are small candles at the center of every table casting a soft glow on the patrons. Or it would if there were any other patrons in the place. It looks like it’s just you and Thor now. A waitress lingers around the bar chatting up the middle-aged bartender.

“What time is it?” Now that you’re sitting, you’re regaining your sobriety if only fractionally.

“Very late. You danced for a long time.” Thor leans forward, elbows on the table, as he watches you with that same soft smile he’s been giving you all day.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” You demand before taking a drink of your water.

“Do you think I did not try? I’m sorry I did not believe you about letting you get drunk.”

You’re still drinking but you narrow your eyes at him.

“I enjoyed watching you. I think you have been needing to relax for a while.”

Finally, you put your glass down, almost empty. “Why do you come to a regular bar? This stuff can’t get you drunk, can it?”

“No. But I enjoy the flavors. And the company is excellent. Especially today.” He gives you a toothy grin and the sight of it makes your heart stutter.

You must still be really drunk.

“Thanks for asking me to come. I…I did really need to cut loose a bit.” You sigh, remembering your afternoon.

Thor’s smile wavers and he reaches towards you with his right hand but before he can touch you and before the sting of your rejection earlier in the day can bite, the melodic Ahh of ‘Don’t Worry Baby’ by the Beach Boys flows through the speakers of the bar.

“My song!” You proclaim and rush up onto your feet.

You stumble your way towards the large digital jukebox at the far end of the bar, grabbing chairs and tables as you go so that you don’t fall.

Pressing your hands along the hard plastic and then the brilliant touch screen you begin to sway your hips to the left and the right in time with the music. You sing with familiar voices, your voice soft and gentle as the smooth tones and sweet melody begins to stir up your emotions.

“Well it’s been building up inside of me for oh I don’t know how long. I don’t know why but I keep thinking something’s bound to go wrong.”

You can hear Thor’s heavy footfall approaching.

“But she looks in my eyes and makes me realize and she says, ‘don’t worry, baby’.” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N?” Thor’s deep tremble is directly behind you and you lean your forehead against the machine, the fingers of your right hand fiddling with the screw on the bottom right corner.

You sob once. Thor places his hand on the space between your shoulders and gently coaxes you to turn towards him. You do. You let him lead you closer and you don’t try and hide the way your tears fall.

“What is wrong? I thought-?”

“Why can’t they see me?” You sob, fat heavy tears splashing down onto the floor.

“What-?”

“I’m not mean. I don’t do anything wrong. Not that I know of. Am I too nice? Should I be meaner? I can be meaner...I think. I have feelings. I can feel. I’m not empty. My heart breaks. I have hopes. I have dreams. Why can’t they see me, Thor? What’s wrong with me? I-I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m not pretty like other girls. But I’m patient. I listen. Should I not listen? Should I play games and pretend that I don’t care? Is that what they want? Do they want me to be aloof? I can’t do that. When I like someone, I can’t pretend that I don’t. When will it be my turn? When will I be the one that they choose? Why can’t it be me?” You shut your eyes tight, gripping Thor’s forearms while your body shakes with heavy sobs. “Why am I the only one that ever gets hurt? Why? I just want to be seen.”

Large hands suddenly engulf the sides of your face. You open your eyes, looking for their source and find bright blue eyes and a narrowed brow watching you. With your hands still gripping his forearms, Thor leans down and presses soft warm lips against your own.

You gasp against his mouth, shocked by the contact but you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s got you held in place.

He’s so gentle in the way he massages his lips against your own. Unable to fully comprehend what’s happening you don’t kiss him back.

When he pulls back, he gives you only enough space to speak. You can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips. “Why…?”

“Forgive me. You just…to answer your question. Perhaps these men of Earth are not worthy of your vulnerability.”

“And you are? Why did you kiss me?” You demand.

“I needed to.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

And he kisses you again, once again startling you. You gasp again against his lips, this time your heart flutters. Unsure of what it is that you’re doing exactly, you give in and pucker your lips against his. He responds to your kiss and pulls you closer, dropping his left hand to wrap his arm around your waist to pull you flush against his body.

The way he moves is intoxicating. You’re not sure what you’re doing. You’re half not thinking. You’re drunk. Sort of. You’re sober enough to know that you’re making out with Thor in the middle of a bar. But had you not been drinking, would you have kissed him back? Not this soon, maybe. But it feels so good. Suddenly you’re pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as he finds your legs and guides them up around his waist as he lifts you up.

Your kiss deepens as he opens his mouth and traces the edges of your lips with his tongue. You let him in, mingling with him as you mewl at his touch. As he kisses you, his beard tickles you but you don’t dare pull away, shifting your head to the left as he also adjusts to keep your kiss going.

You kiss him until your lungs begin to protest and you pull back, gasping for air.

“Forgive me.” He says again, confusing you.

“For what?”

“You are…I cannot help myself.” He explains, his voice low and husky.

“Then don’t.”

“You are so starved for affection.” He looks down at your hands as they trace the shape of his biceps and shoulders.

“I…” You feel shame course through you, and you begin to pull your hands back. “I’m sorry.”

“Was that your first kiss?” He asks and it makes your neck and ears burn.

Had you sucked that much? You nod.

“They do not know what they are missing.” He assures you.

You look up at him, wondering if he’s serious or simply trying to make you feel better.

“Are you sober?” He wonders.

You think, trying to examine your own mind but the dizziness you feel could be from Thor’s kiss or the copious amount of liquor you’d drunk earlier. Because you can’t tell, you shake your head.

Thor sighs heavily. “Then we shall stop here for tonight.”

“But…” You protest, wanting so much to kiss him again. Now that you’ve had it, you want it. He’s right. You’re starved for it.

He unhooks your legs from around his waist and helps lower you down gently to the ground before he lumbers towards the booth, you’d been in to grab your bag.

He moves back to you, grabbing your hand as he passes and after a nod to the bartender, he leads you back out into the night.

“This is where you live?” He wonders, staring up at the small house.

It’s not exactly nice. It’s cheap. The shutters are falling down, the paint is faded, the windows barred, and the lawn overgrown. You feel embarrassed again.

“The landlord is supposed to come and fix it up, but they never come.” You look up at him but find him watching you instead of your house.

“Do you live here alone?” He wonders, worry in his voice.

You nod.

“Come, I shall escort you inside.” He pulls you up the rickety steps of the porch, stopping to look down at them as they protest against his weight.

“The wood is rotted.” You explain with embarrassment.

You release his hand and move up to the door and first slide your key into the black metal security door, struggling with the lock for a moment before it finally turns. You pull it open and it creaks loudly. The second door is easier to open. You unlock it and push it open before moving inside. Thor follows and your heart hammers in your chest as you drop your bag and keys by the small table near the door and flip lights on as you go, moving towards the kitchen.

Thor keeps close behind you, his eyes roving over the small living room and the sparse decoration.

Your kitchen is dated. The last time the house had been remodeled must have been the fifties. It’s canary yellow, counters made of cheap plywood. Your fridge is rusted in certain areas, also no older than the fifties, with the handle for the freezer missing, replaced by a rope you’d found in your boxes when you’d moved in. You sigh as you look the space over feeling more and more self-conscious as you expose your home to him.

“I know it’s ugly. I mean, compared to what Mr. Stark must have for you guys up on the compound? He’s got such an eye for modern design. I love working at the compound.” You turn to look at him, to explain that this is only temporary until you can save enough money to move out of here into somewhere much nicer, but you don’t get the chance as he’s suddenly lifting you up to sit on your counter.

He closes the space between your bodies and sighs heavily as he leans down to rest his cheek against your own, itching to kiss you again it seems.

Your mind is a jumbled mess of sensory information. His large hands on your waist grip you tightly, his large torso, so close to yours washes you with wave after wave of heat. His breath tickles the curve of your lips and once again his beard gently scratches along your cheek.

Your surroundings, the way he’d found you today, crying in the bar, you’re suddenly worried about why he’s doing this, and you pull back to look at his face. His blue eyes search yours, curious as to what you’ll say.

“Thor, I’m not…I don’t need you to save me if that’s why you’re…you’re doing this. I know that my life kinda sucks but it’s really great too. I might not have a boyfriend and I might have been rejected earlier today and then gotten drunk and made a fool of myself by crying at the bar, and I know my house is shit but this is my life and I’m okay with it…for the most part.” Obviously, you could do without the constant rejection. “I don’t need you to save me.”

Thor pulls back, giving you a bit more space as he smiles down at you. “Is that why you think I kissed you?”

“Isn’t it?”

Thor sighs and reaches up to caress the back of your head before dropping his hand to rest on your right left shoulder.

“I kissed you because you make me laugh. I kissed you because you can’t hold your liquor. I kissed you because of the way you dance. I kissed you because…because you wiggled against me.” His cheeks flush. Even beneath his scruffy beard you can see the red hue burn bright.

“When did I wiggle against you? I did not!” You argue.

He laughs lightly. “I kissed you because of the way your hips swish in time to the music. I kissed you because I have never seen someone open up the way you did when you cried in the bar. And now I want to kiss you because you prove that although your heart was broken this morning, you do not need to be saved. And I like the way you taste.”

It’s your turn to burn.

“But…” You begin, unsure. “I’m nothing. No one ever wants to kiss me. No one has ever wanted to kiss me.”

Not to mention this is Thor in front of you. You look him over again and your heart aches with how beautiful he is. And he’s nice too! It’s not enough that he looks the way he does but he also has to be nice and funny? How is it fair?

“I do not think you understand just how much you have made me want you.” His voice drops in octave again, making it husky and fluid as he speaks. “If we had not been drinking and I were certain that you are not drunk, I would take you into your bedroom and have you in every way I could think of.”

You swallow hard, suddenly wishing you hadn’t been drinking tonight but also remembering that you’d just met him. “Thor…”

“We will have plenty of time for that. For now, I will have to make do with your lips.” He leans down and catches your mouth in another searing kiss.

This time he kisses you until you’re dizzy. His heady scent, fresh spring rain and the slightest hint of ozone, overcomes all of your senses as he deepens his kiss once more. You could sit here in your kitchen and kiss him forever. His lips move with such gentle passion, his hands exploring the curves of your body without moving too far into taboo territory for a first date.

No. That hadn’t been a date, had it?

You’re not sure how long you and Thor make out but when he finally pulls away, you give in to the comforting heat of his form and lean in against him. You rest your cheek against his left shoulder, your eyes staring at the tight muscles of his neck as he swallows and forces himself to breathe slowly.

“What if I wake up and this has all been a dream?” You ask, reaching up to grab a gentle hold of his right ear with your left hand.

“I will show you that it is not a dream.”

“This is really weird, Thor. We just met today.”

“Did we?” He asks, teasing uncertainty.

“Didn’t we?” Your brain quickly tries to think of another time you might have come across Thor but you’re drawing up a blank.

“I should go. It is very late, and you need rest.” Regrettably he pulls away from you and with your hands held in his he helps you down from the counter before moving for the front door.

The closer he pulls you towards the it the heavier your feet seem to get. You don’t want him to go. The idea of him leaving weighs heavily on your chest until he’s reaching for the handle and you yank back on his left hand.

“No.”

Thor’s blue eyes find you again, “What is the matter?”

“Don’t go, Thor.”

“I must go.”

“Because I’m drunk?”

“Well…yes, but-”

“I’m not drunk.” You argue, ignoring the way the world sways beneath your feet. “Please, don’t leave me. Stay.”

“I cannot. I do not wish to take advantage of you if you are not of sound mind. We will have plenty of time to revisit this possibility, Y/N. I-”

Throwing caution to the wind you throw yourself on him. You pull his head down so that your lips can move with his. He kisses you back, gentle and uncertain if this is right.

You want him. You’ve never wanted anyone more. Now that you’ve kissed him, his intoxicating lips, you need more. You move your hands down slowly along the taut muscles of his back before they come to rest on his waist where your fingers search for the seam of his shirt. They yield their purchase and with yearning intent your hands caress the surprisingly smooth skin of his back sliding his shirt up further and further as you explore.

He suddenly groans into your mouth and slowly he backs you up until he can turn you and press you up against the wall of your hallway. You break the kiss to catch your breath, excited by the feel of his skin underneath your hands.

Shifting slightly, he trails his burning kisses down along your throat. He reaches up and pushes your t-shirt aside to kiss the bare skin of your shoulder sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Stay…” You whisper, begging in what sounds so much like a moan.

“I should not.” He argues, the groan in his voice as he struggles with your pleading sending flutters into your stomach.

“Stay…” You insist.

“No.” He argues, still kissing his way up and down your shoulder and neck.

You reach up to catch his face once again and pull his lips back to yours as you initiate a slow salacious kiss.

“Mmph.” He moans against you and you know just a little more and he’ll cave.

While his hands are busy massaging the flesh of your hips, you let your own snake their way down to the front of his pants to undo the buckle of his belt and the button of his pants.

He breaks the kiss, startled.

“Stay…” You beg against his lips.

“Y/N…” He warns.

You search for the small metal tab along the front of his pants and find it in triumph before you slide it down. The sound of his zipper echoes around the hallway loudly. Your fingers go searching, delving into the front of his pants to find the soft fabric of his briefs, and the growing heat of his rod. He shuts his eyes tight and flexes his jaw hard, fighting some internal struggle as you touch him.

“Stay with me.” You plead one final time.

Suddenly his hands on your waist are rough. He lifts you up, slamming you slightly against the wall of your hall. You gasp and your hand falls out of his pants. He grabs your left leg firmly and wraps it around his waist as he holds you against the wall with his body alone then rocks his hips against your sex.

He uses his left hand to pull your shirt up over your head and you raise your arms up to help him pull it free. He rips the latch of your bra and you quickly peel it off for him and toss the fabric aside, gasping as he pushes himself against you.

For one long agonizing moment, Thor simply stares at your chest. Does he not like what he sees? Your insecurities begin to manifest quickly then they’re quickly wiped away as Thor leans down and suckles on your left breast.

You gasp, your core growing slick quickly. How long have you wanted to be touched this way? How long had you waited for the perfect one? The man who would finally have you? You’re so glad that it’s Thor.

As he traces long tantalizing circles around your nipples moving each of them into his mouth in turn, his right hand finds its way to the front of your jeans. He pulls his own hips back then undoes them and without warning slips his hand in underneath your underwear.

You moan as his fingers find your wet lips and immediately he begins to slide them up and down along your slit searching for whatever spot might please you most.

You tremble as he finds your nub, your little bundle of nerves at the apex of your lower lips and he pulls back to watch the twist of pleasure in your expression.

“Does that feel good?”

Does he really need to ask?! “Yes.”

He wraps his free arm around your waist as he continues to play with you, then turns and waits. “Which way is your bedroom?”

“Th-Third…ah!” You shudder against his hand, gripping onto his shoulders tightly as you lean forward to bite down on his shoulder.

He stops his fingers so that you can speak. “Third door on the right.”

As soon as you’ve released the desire information his fingers are back at work, pressing hard against your nub so that you shudder against his large body.

You have no time to look to see what he thinks of your bedroom. Nothing much in it but a small full-size bed on a rusted bed frame and two sets of drawers, both mismatched and out of place. He’s too busy to care about what’s in here too. He drops you onto the bed and pulls his hand free of your pants only to remove them along with your underwear leaving you completely exposed for him to see.

Nervously you attempt to cover yourself, but Thor reaches for your wrists and pulls them away from your breasts and presses them into the mattress over your head firmly, indicating he’d like you to keep them there. You do as he wants and with nervous flutters in your stomach you watch as he stands back up. He reaches back behind his neck with both hands and pulls his black shirt up over his head exposing for you large rippling muscles. How can he look like that? It’s not possible.

Your jaw drops as you gape at him in awe.

He smiles knowingly at you before pushing his pants and briefs down exposing his fully erect staff. You panic slightly, wondering how the hell he’s going to fit inside of you. This makes you clench your legs together, worried that you’ll disappoint him suddenly.

“Thor?”

He removes his watch and tosses it down onto his pants before he moves back to crawl over you slowly.

Your heart racing in panic, you reach up to press flat palms against his approaching chest. God, he’s hard.

“I…I’ve never…I haven’t been with anyone before.” You confess feeling self-conscious again.

He suddenly stops his advance, lowering himself down against you but keeping his weight supported with his arms.

“You have never made love before?” He wonders, surprised.

“No.” You shrug bringing your arms down to cover your chest again.

Thor frowns and reaches up with his right hand to push your hands away from blocking his view.

“I…I told you that no one has ever, they don’t see me.” You say, reminding him of your breakdown in the bar.

“I see you.” He whispers then leans down to kiss your lips.

That you like. You like his lips. You kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re so intoxicated by his kiss that you don’t realize he’s positioned himself over you, nudging your legs up and open as he presses the tip of his rod against your very wet entrance.

You pull back, gasping at the strange sensation and look down between your bodies but he’s lying almost completely on top of you that you can see only the tight well-formed muscles of his stomach.

“I will be gentle.” He assures you. “But if you would like to stop, we will stop right now.”

He’s giving you an out. The fear you feel at never having done this before, the pain it might bring, the consequences it could yield, and your inexperience all scream at you to take it. You might suck. What if you suck? With Thor? And he’s so…so big. Will it hurt?

“Y/N?” His voice brings your eyes up to meet his. “Shall we stop?”

And you might have said yes. If you weren’t looking into his stunning blue eyes and if you couldn’t see the kindness and gentle patience in them, you might have stopped. He reaches up with his left hand and caresses the side of your face slowly. You shake your head.

“Don’t stop.”

He leans down to meet your lips again while simultaneously pushing himself slowly inside of you. Your limbs spasm, quickly reaching up to clutch him closer, tighter, as you fight the strange sensation of being filled. It hurts. It does, and you groan against his lips. He stops and lets your body adjust before he pushes in a bit more, all the while kissing you with soft feather light kisses.

He pulls back to trails those soft, apologetic kisses along your jawline and up towards your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your other cheek, and back to your lips.

He finally stops moving and you realize that he’s all the way in. Your pelvis hurts only a little and slowly the throbbing dies down leaving you feeling strangely stuffed.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

You nod. “It hurts.”

“Shall I stop?”

“Please, don’t stop.” You try to focus on something other than the ache and pull him back down for a quick kiss.

“If you want me to stop…” He begins, giving you another out but he pulls back slowly, sliding out of you almost three-quarters of the way before he pushes himself back in.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain is renewed.

He stops.

“Keep going.” You beg.

Thor hesitates but you pull him into another lusty kiss, and he begins to pump himself in and out a little faster.

You wish it had gotten better after a few minutes, but you didn’t enjoy your first time. Thor didn’t dislike it, but you can tell that he’s regretful that your first time was painful. He reached his release and that makes you happy. At least you were able to make him feel good.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, breathing heavily over you, his hands massaging your shoulder then arm.

“Don’t be.” You slip your hands into his hair and gently scratch his scalp. He shuts his eyes, enjoying the sensation before he slides his hand down between your legs.

“Thor…” You begin, worried that he’s going to obsess over your lack of orgasm.

“It is not fair.” He argues and proceeds to press his fingers against that nub of yours again.

You squirm slightly, shifting your hips beneath him.

“It will get better with time.” He assures you.

You reach down to grab his wrist and hold it in place, brow furrowed as you search his face.

“You…You want to do this with me again?”

“Of course. Did you think this was a passing fancy?” He demands, half laughing at how ridiculous he finds that notion.

His fingers move again, and you buck against his touch. He plays your nub until your hips surge upwards, seeking one final push as your body is suddenly awash in euphoric climax. Thor worms his arm underneath your waist as you lift your body up towards him with the power of your release. He holds you close and lets you ride out your orgasm until your body is slack in his arms.

“I feel better.” He sighs, happy to see you content.

You laugh and reach up to pull him down for a long kiss.

“If someone had told me that I would wake up this morning alone and end up in bed with Thor, the God of Thunder at night, I would have called them psychotic and delusional.”

“You do not give yourself enough credit. You are irresistible, Y/N. And if I may, I’m almost certain that tomorrow you will end up in bed with Thor, the God of Thunder again. And this time, you’ll enjoy your time together much more.”

“I did enjoy tonight.” You assure him.

“You’ll enjoy it more.” He promises.

You take him at his word and then look down at your body. “I should go shower. And we should change the sheets.”

It’s not a large stain but the red on the sheets is embarrassing. You slip out of his grip and roll off the side of the bed, feeling sore, but eager to get cleaned up. You’re also still dizzy, drunk still but you’re not telling Thor that. You concentrate hard to keep your body from swaying.

He watches you, slowly getting up too so that you can strip the bed of the soiled sheets.

“You do not regret my staying?”

You look up at him as you ball the dirtied sheets in your arms and are startled by the soft look of insecurity on his face. How can he be worried about you wanting him here?

“No.” You assure him sweetly. “Thor…”

Quickly you move around the bed to his side and without hesitation wrap your left arm around his waist. Where you’ve found this sudden confidence, you’re not sure, but you know that you need to show him that you love his being here.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I didn’t mean it. I wanted this. I wanted you. Do you regret staying?” Now it’s your turn to be insecure.

You loosen your arm and he’s suddenly wrapping you up in his own.

“Never.” He promises.

“Good.” You smile. “I’m gonna go shower.”

You pull out of his arms and wander into the bathroom. It takes you ten minutes to clean up. You hope that the soreness will fade quickly. You want to try that again soon.

In the room, Thor is laying on top of a freshly made bed, right hand under his head, left on his chiseled stomach, still completely naked. He must have found the sheets in your closet and made the bed for you.

You stare at his perfect form and reach over with your right hand to pinch your left bicep hard. “Ow.”

Definitely not dreaming.

It’s a whisper but Thor’s eyes shoot open at the sound and he pushes himself up to look at you, a sweet smile plastered onto his perfect lips.

You had been wanting to wait for a while before you tried again but just watching him lay there, naked, looking good enough to eat, you unhook the corner of your towel and let it fall away.

As your nakedness is exposed once more, Thor’s smile falls away and he swallows hard as the rod between his legs twitches and slowly stands erect again.

“I think I’m ready to try again now.”

“Then come here.” He murmurs huskily and you happily obey.

Forever Tag List @until-theend-oftheline @jessieray98 @dsakita @coldfacedwarf @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @fairislesheets @jewelofwinter @mannls @moonlessnight14 @sovereignoblivious @pandazlazykid @lilulo-12 @moli1497 @shifutheshihtzu @the-real-mary-jane @pastelxvirgo @just4muggles @vulpecula-minor @wildefire @mdgrdians @tiffanynguyen03 @shield-agent78 @i-cant-shine-without-darkness @the-wayward-robot @babytrollgirl @alagalaska @sincerelytlh @theonelittleone @sea040561 @xrosegoldwolfx @peppermintvanillaa @awkwardfangirl2014 @toffeecoloredqueen @crist1216 @xxloki81xx

To Be Seen

@zoey-odinson-stark @slice-of-thunder

1K notes · View notes