#blue doesn’t go with my eyes yellow is too loud and red just works best with my overall aesthetics what can I say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quicksilverrwrites · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you can’t sleep and neither can peter, but at least you both know exactly how to comfort one another. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

It’s eleven-thirty, and you can’t sleep.

Your thoughts shift to your lessons in the morning; to how tired you’re going to be; to that iced coffee you’d had while getting your assignment done after class; about how that drink was definitely a bad idea considering how you’re lying awake now. It had tasted good then, and it had given you the energy you needed to fire out five thousand words in the span of a few hours… but now you regret it.

Sighing, you roll over. Your eyes glaze over the objects on the nightstand beside your bed. Your alarm clock, rectangular in size and wooden in material, glares at you. Eleven thirty six. Eleven thirty seven. The time seems to spiral, and you realise that you might as well do something with yourself if you’re awake.

You eye the books stacked on top of the alarm clock; you’d been reading one before and it had bored you half to death, so you can’t bring yourself to pick up any again. What else? What else?

Your gaze settles upon the picture frame on the dresser next to your nightstand, and you let out a sigh as you settle upon the silver-haired speedster within it. You’re next to him, a mere blur since he’d sneakily taken the camera from your hand and taken a picture with an expression that radiates cheekiness, but you’d liked the picture enough to keep it.

You’ve got a few more picture frames scattered around your room—photos of you with Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Kurt. Even some of Charles. You might not be close, but he is your uncle, after all. He’s still family.

And yet it’s Peter you keep your eyes on. It’s Peter's mischievous aura which calls to you across the room.

What would he be doing right now? He’s probably playing video games or practicing on one of his guitars. You’d been surprised to see him play well; you’d been surprised to see that he actually had the attention span it takes to successfully learn an instrument. You would know: your mother used to nag you about practicing the piano to perfection. Practice makes perfect, she’d always said, and yet she’d always left out how much energy it took to practice in the first place.

Is it too late to reach out to him? The two of you have a specific way of speaking to one another across distances by now, although even the thought of doing such a thing due to the time seems rude. Your mother had always told you that it was your duty to be polite, and your father had by example. You think you picked it up from him rather than her, but—

Don’t think of him right now. Don’t think of what happened. Don’t.

As if in an effort to push the memory of that night from your head, you move. You pull the drawer attached to your nightstand open to reveal a mess of junk inside, but what you need—and what you spy—is a pen and paper. You pull it from the drawer and slam the nightstand drawer shut quietly, and after, you get to work writing:

Are you up? Can I come over?

Your fingers buzz with azure energy as you feel your mutation working in your favour. A tiny portal of blue opens before you, one you could make larger if you wished but one which you keep small for now. It’s no larger than a letterbox would be, and the faint sound of music from the other side tells you that Peter is very much awake.

You slip the note through the portal, and then you leave it open as you wait.

When you receive no response for a solid fifteen seconds but can hear movement on the other side, you wonder if this was a mistake after all. It’s too late, you scold yourself, mentally preparing for rejection. Oh, god, this is going to be awkward. What if he—

An empty Twinkie box falls at your feet.

You blink at it, momentarily confused, and then you pick it up. You glance about the dessert’s display as you begin to turn the box over in your hands. Nothing on the front, but on the back—

Scrawled in pink glitter pen—probably his sister’s—, the box reads on the back: Yeah. Come through.

You grin lazily as you set the box down on your bed and extend the portal with your fingers like you’re prying open a heavy door. The orange light from Peter’s basement slips through and becomes one with the light of your dorm, which is yellow and warm with your room’s wooden accented walls and flooring. And as you slip through the portal and your bare feet touch the soft tartan carpet of his room, you let the portal shut with a soft shum behind you—

But Peter Maximoff does not look his best. In fact, he looks downright miserable.

His eyes are red as if he’s been crying, his hair is messy—messier than usual, at least—and he’s wearing a band tee and some tartan pajama bottoms that look intended for comfort rather than style. You were about to say hey, but you stop in your tracks. You tilt your head as you look at him.

Peter is still. It’s strange, especially since he’s usually so eccentric. He blurts out, “What?”

You frown, momentarily stuck for what to say. “Nothing,” you respond, but it doesn’t seem right.

Peter stares at you. You stare at him. You’re both quite similar, so it strikes you then that you both know that you’re each not telling each other something.

“You okay?” You ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. It’s a rigid movement. “Yeah,” he says, far too confidently to be true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You narrow your eyes on him. His tone of voice has all but solidified your suspicions. “Okay, first of all,” you say, crossing the small space of the room between you and the sofa, “you use a very distinctive tone when you lie.” You settle down on the sofa as you cross your legs under you. “Second, your eyes are really red. Have you been—?”

“No.”

Crying, you were about to ask, but he cut you off. You narrow your eyes again.

Peter sighs and averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Tonight’s just… not a good night.”

You press your lips together as sympathy wells in your eyes. “Why not?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us."

Peter inhales deeply, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the sofa next to you. You’re used to how fast he moves by now. Something warms your heart in the way he sits with his body angled towards you. Like he’s opening himself up to you.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He asks.

You glance at the other end of the sofa and then back to him. You’re reminded of how he took the sofa to sleep on that night after you guys got caught in the rain. “Here?”

Peter’s brows rise. “Is my basement not fancy enough for you?”

You know he’s joking even despite the lack of humour in his tone, and you let out a small huff of laughter as you flash him a lazy smile. You sit back on the sofa, reaching out your hand to intertwine it with his. Things between you are still blooming after your first date, but you both feel comfortable enough to do this. Peter’s fingers wrap around yours as he starts drawing patterns on the back of your hand with his free one.

“I just mean,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the backdrop of quiet music, “won’t your mom mind?”

“She didn’t mind when you stayed over last time.”

Your lips quirk upwards in gentle amusement. “That time you slept on the couch. This time I was thinking, I mean, if you want to, then maybe—”

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. His head lifts upwards in a sort of understanding motion. “Yeah, I mean… ah, I can deal with whatever safe sex talk she wants to give me in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant maybe we could…” Oh, god, embarrassment— “cuddle.”

Peter grins. “Cuddle, huh?” He pauses, until— “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching an arm around the back of the couch to wrap around you. “I guess I could be down for cuddling.”

You snicker softly as you lean into his touch, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me why you looked so upset when I arrived?”

Peter tenses. “It wasn’t because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” you murmur, “I think I’m confident enough in our relationship to know that your reaction when seeing me is generally excitement rather than the dread that accompanies sad under eyes and red markings around them.”

He pauses for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath of defeat. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mm,” you murmur, looking up at him. “A little.”

His lips twist to the side as he lowers his gaze. “I was thinking about my dad.”

It’s your turn to pause now, looking up at him in a way you didn’t before. You assess every detail of his body again: the way his shoulders slump, the way his head hangs low, the way his hair falls in the way of his view and his eyes are heavy with something you haven’t seen in him before. He’s usually so full of life.

Is this what he’s hiding deep down?

“Tell me about it,” you say softly.

Peter grimaces. “It’s a long story, and the stupid thing is it’s mostly my fault.”

Frowning, you sit up and face him. “I don’t believe that.”

Peter lets out a humourless laugh that might be bitter if he showed a hint of anger, but he doesn’t. “It’s true. The only time I’ve ever been too slow and it’s in finding the most…”

He trails off, pulling his arm away from around you so that they both now rest in his lap. He continues, “It’s a mess.”

“Start from the beginning."

So he explains, if not vaguely: about trying to find his father, about finding a house empty and police arriving on the scene. Peter had fled at the sight of them, and—

“His name’s Magneto,” he admits. “Erik Lehnsherr. You’ve probably… seen him on TV or something."

Suddenly, it all adds up. You weren’t at school to see what happened with Apocalypse, but you’ve heard about it from your friend group. Peter doesn’t talk about it very much, and now you know why; had he been part of that whole adventure because of his father? He hadn’t been involved with Xavier’s School before, that much you know.

You suck in a breath. Okay, Y/N, push the fact that his dad’s a known terrorist aside— “Does he know?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. I screwed it up. And now I’m right back where I was before all of it, because I have no clue where he is and no way of telling him the truth. I couldn’t even do it for Wanda.”

“Hey,” you murmur, your fingers moving to cup his cheeks. “Fight or flight, right? It’s normal. To see him right in front of you—to have to muster up the courage to tell him? Knowing what a change that would be for you? Peter, that’s normal.”

Peter’s eyes well with softness as he listens to you, gazes upon you, and you think you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable as he lowers his head to your shoulder. He takes in a shaky breath; wraps his arms around you; pulls you into his lap—

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your shirt. It’s not his shirt this time; you’re wearing a pyjama set that consists of blue silk shorts and a top. “Not sure I believe you, but thanks, Y/N.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Aside from mind control? Not sure.”

You press your lips together and begin to stroke his hair. “To be honest,” you murmur, “I’m not sure I’d believe you if you tried to tell me something similar about my father, either.”

Peter lets out a choked laugh. “Maybe that’s why we work together.”

Your lips curve upwards, still stroking his hair. His face is still buried in your shoulder. “Maybe,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

Peter shifts so that he’s leaning against the back of the sofa and you’re in his lap again. You turn so that you’re straddling his waist, but your fingers find his jaw to cup the skin there. Your thumb brushes soothingly against his skin.

“You mean a lot to me,” Peter murmurs, staring up at you. It’s almost as if the music in the room has stopped; it’s almost as if the two of you are the only souls left in existence. His brows are slightly raised and there is awe in his voice as he says, “I don’t really believe you’re real half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Definitely real, Peter. Definitely here.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone riddled with amusement, “and here of all places. You could be anywhere. You’re like, perfect and—”

“Ssh,” you murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Peter tilts his head up towards you, a silent request for consent, and you kiss him in answer.

He wraps his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your tongue slipping out to meet his own. He makes a low, guttural noise between pleasure and content at the feeling of it, and your free hand clutches at his shirt as your other hand remains at his jaw.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, whether it's on the sofa or in his bed, but in those moments together there’s nothing carnal about it. Your touches are soft and comforting rather than lustful and yearning, and as much as you’ve thought about him that way before, you know that now’s not the time.

Tonight, you both need this. Tonight, your sole purpose is to be there for one another.

“And for the record,” Peter murmurs between kisses, his words random and uncalculated, “I think your tragic backstory’s way worse than mine.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #xmen imagine #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #xmen fanfic

148 notes · View notes

kechiwrites · 3 years

Text

spit or swallow

Dentist!Eijirou Kirishima x Patient!Reader

wc: 1.5k

“he works diligently above you, latex gloved hands occasionally brushing your nose, jaw and throat. He’s nothing less than gentle with you, angling your face where he needs it with feather soft touches and honey smooth direction.”

warnings: afab reader, fantasizing about your dentist, a lil bit of praise kink, biting, oral sex, size kink if you squint, swearing, dick slapping but like make it tender, we’re light on warnings today y’all, 18+

author’s notes: kirishima....thank u to my lovely betas @lady-bakuhoe and @rivendell101 yes i kept the arm hair thing in, im a simp ♡.

There is absolutely nothing sexy about being a dentist. The visual of Dr. Kirishima up to his elbows in spit and god know what else is hardly erotic. But there’s very little you can do to stop the shivers that tingle down your spine at the sight of his bare forearms, revealed to you by the careful and precise folding of his doctor’s coat, dusted with fine black hair and corded with muscle when they reach over your face to adjust the light or peer at your x-rays. Your tongue is still thick and sweet in your mouth from the liquid he'd given to you in a little blue cup. The taste was just barely spearmint and you wish you could chase it with the sharp tang of his sweat. You wish you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, bite and kiss and suck at the skin under his jaw you're becoming so familiar with. You want to create a flush so deep you find it blooming over his skin when you undo the little white plastic buttons of his dress shirt.

While you're musing, he works diligently above you, latex gloved hands occasionally brushing your nose, jaw and throat. He’s nothing less than gentle with you, angling your face where he needs it with feather soft touches and honey smooth direction. You get the distinct impression he’s a mellow guy, tossing easy smiles to anyone who meets his eye and he certainly doesn’t seem very intimidating. Even still, you can't help but think about the stretch. There's not a doubt in your mind that Eijirou Kirishima D.D.S. is packing like he's on a two month vacation. His shoulders are impossibly broad and when he escorted you through the bleach white hallway all you could think of was letting him loom over you and drag the heavy weight of his weeping cock up and down the plush skin of your face. You wish he would push past the softness of your lips and urge your head further and further down his length until the tip of his dick touches your fucking brain. You want him to spread your pussy open between latex covered thumbs and bury his tongue in you, let his unnervingly sharp teeth catch the hood of your clit.

You want him to hurt you.

You’re lost in the visual of his hands around your throat when he calls your name, trying to get you to angle your chin just a bit further downward. When you finally comply, he whispers “Good girl” and it takes every single bit of your self restraint to stop yourself from whimpering at the image the phrase conjures. You screw your eyes shut and behind your lids, Dr. Kirishima is holding you against the padded chair by the back of your neck, sinking his teeth into the exposed skin of your shoulder, hip, thigh, leaving aching, perfect half circles in their wake. He keeps you in place with one hand, and presses his cock against the throbbing heat of your cunt, not quite hard enough to enter, not yet. Instead he’s content to tease you into begging for it. And you do, you pant out platitudes and pleas for more until he blankets your body with his own, weighing you down as he pushes into you, fucking deeper and deeper until your slick covers both of your thighs. He fucks you with four fingers in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue while he calls you his favourite patient. His perfect patient.

“Am I hurting you?” You open your eyes in an instant, and the dentist is hovering above you, eyebrows furrowed with concern. You aren’t even sure how long your eyes have been closed, but the light overhead stings a bit and you blink owlishly before speaking.

I fucking wish.

“No, no I’m fine.” You steeple your hands together in your lap and try to shake off the reverie.

“Great, well we’re all done here,” he pulls his mask down to hang around his neck and blinds you with a beaming smile, before you can even feel guilty, the dentist spins around in his bone white office chair, rummaging in a shelf before coming back to you, with two closed fists held up for your choosing.

“Pick one.” When you can only respond with a confused tilt of the head he explains, “A treat for my favourite patient. I know you aren’t exactly lollipop age but…” Dr. Kirishima continues to speak but the sound of his voice is drowned out by the roaring in your ears. You interrupt him mid-sentence and tap your hand against his left and he opens his wide palm with a flourish to reveal a bright yellow sugar free wrapped candy and a packet of floss with a smiley little cartoon tooth emblazoned on the front.

You aren’t quite sure how, but you know it’s mocking you.

You take the gifts from his hand, trying hard to ignore the feeling of your fingertips dragging against his open palm. There’s maybe one hundred filthy thoughts slamming against the walls of your skull produced by the feel of his skin against yours, and honestly you’re just thankful they’re not readable in your eyes or pouring out of your fucking ears. You clear your throat and do your best to smile at Dr. Kirishima, swivelling in the dentist chair to place your feet back on the ground once he scoots back enough for you to stand. You gather your bag and coat while he rattles off what you need to remember; “easy on the sugar, red wine and coffee, brush twice a day, floss as often as you can, etc.” With the dentist now out of your immediate line of sight you can force yourself to calm down. Your heart rate finally returns to a steady pulse in your chest and a centering deep breath brings you back down the rest of the way. While you shove your hands into your coat pockets to check that your essentials are all accounted for, you can hear Dr. Kirishima quietly issue directions to the waiting dental assistant in the hallway. Finally back in your right mind, you turn with your things in hand to thank your dentist, half relieved and half disappointed to be leaving his close quarters, only to slam bodily into the hard planes of his chest beneath his thin dress shirt.

You stumble backwards and it’s the quick movement of Dr. Kirishima’s hands (one cemented around your forearm and the other on your hip) that stops you from colliding with his tray of instruments.

“Are you alright?” He questions you, palms iron hot against your skin, even through your clothes. His voice is just a bit too loud for how close you are to each other, and you shift backwards in his hold to look into his eyes. In the shuffle, you’d pressed both of your, embarrassingly, sweaty hands against his shoulders, one of them fisted tightly in the lapel of his doctor’s coat. Still, even as you blabber assurances to him looming above you, neither of you move to let go, opting instead to remain stock still, as though the slightest disruption could make your position any more inappropriate than it already was.

Kirishima’s hand tightens on your hip just the tiniest bit and when he opens his mouth to speak to you, your gaze focuses on the exceptionally vicious point of his canines. You force yourself to meet his eyes again, just fast enough to catch him staring at your lips, parted in surprise at the collision.

Slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal, Kirishima draws closer to you, and for a second you think he’ll kiss you, but instead his cheek brushes over yours, lips meeting the curve of your ear, warm breath rushing against your skin, eliciting full body shivers. The grip you have on his shirt turns to iron and you urge him closer, narrowing the minimal space between you until your chest is pressed so firmly against his.

“I-”

Whatever he was going to say is cut short by the sound of the office door swinging open, heralding the dental assistant’s return. Thankfully, Kirishima’s assistant has their eyes on their clipboard, addressing you by your last name and rattling off the best date for your next cleaning. While their attention is split you force space between yourself and the man holding you. When they do finally raise their eyes, looking for confirmation, you bob your head in agreement, hoping to god they’d give you a form, or receipt or anything to remind you of the details currently being divulged only to be drowned out by the thud of your own heartbeat.

“I’d actually like for her to come in earlier, if possible, we didn’t get the chance to do a polishing today.”

Both you and the assistant blink at the doctor, and slowly his cheeks redden under your stare.

“If that’s alright with you?” He coughs, folding his arms over his chest.

It takes you a second to understand what’s going on but when you do, it snaps your willpower in half.

“Next week then! I’ve got time, if you do.” You reply and Dr. Kirishima’s answering smile is blinding in the best way.

“Sounds perfect.”

#kechiwrites #bnha x reader #bnha smut #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro x reader #red riot x reader #kirishima x y/n #bnha drabble #bnha kirishima

413 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

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

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

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Precisely.” He agrees.

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

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

What’s going on?!

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

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

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

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

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

“Just tell me, David.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

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

You don’t disagree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what you’d been dreading?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

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

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

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

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

You scoff, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

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

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

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

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

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

“Loads of them.” David promises.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He could just be too trusting.”

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

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

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

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice is so deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he turns back to you, you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch.” Thor says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

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

This can’t be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

willowbleedsonpaper · 3 years

Text

Winter In The Shade V

Part V

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2913

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (?)

Want to know when I post the next part? Add yourself to my taglist!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Anything I need to know for the party?” you asked Regulus as you two entered the charms classroom, both sitting in your usual spot while waiting for the rest of the students and the professor to arrive “You know, colors?” you said, raising an eyebrow “Do you want to get matching outfits? Should I be ready to leave at midnight before our carriage turns back into a pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin?” he asked, confused.

“Nevermind.” you waved a dismissive hand in his way, remembering he didn’t even know what a T.V. was. “What I mean is, this party's going to be the last time we see each other for weeks! We need to make it special so I can go back to the memories when the bitter reality hits me and you're not there.” you finished, letting out a dramatic sigh as you placed the back of your hand over your forehead.

Regulus looked at you with concern “Are you being dramatic or serious? I can’t tell.” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, letting your performance fall as you flew a piece of hair out of your face “You’re not fun.” you grunted “And just so you know, I am being serious.”

“It’s only two weeks, Y/N.” he reminded you “You’ll survive.” He was met with silence, turning to look at you and the angry pout of your lips. He let out a long sigh “You have lived most of your life without me, what’s two weeks?” he asked.

You scoffed, letting your jaw fall as you crossed your arms “I don’t know, you cold hearted man. Maybe two weeks of boredom?” you said, watching as his eyes turned into one of disbelief “Torture.” you added “What am I supposed to do with two weeks by myself?” you asked him.

“What did you do before we became friends?”

Your brain froze at his question, both mind and eyes blank as you stared into the void. Regulus calling your name brought you back and your face turned sour as your eyes focused back on the raven haired boy before you “You are no good influence.” you mumbled sourly.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunched together as he placed his book down, his attention completely on you.

“Since that day you hit me in the head my entire life revolves around you!” you whispered yelled, watching his shoulders relax as he tilted his head “And don’t try to deny it, we both know it's true.” you said, starting to pick up your things and shoving them inside your bag.

“What are you doing?” he asked, never trying to stop you and instead handing you the things you had placed on his side of the table.

“I, “ you said, placing a hand in your chest as you stood from your chair, looking down at him “am taking space from you. You have consumed my entire life.” you hissed, the urges to laugh coming through as a small smile broke through you every now and then.

Regulus watched you walk a few feet from where he sat, patiently staring at the back of your head with a small smirk “Y/N.” he called, his voice steady and calm “We have class, remember?”

You stopped, sharply turning to face him again from the front of the classroom. You purse your lips, glancing between the door and Regulus. You gave up in the end, letting your shoulders fall and dragging your bag all over the floor until you reached your chair again, falling into it.

Regulus bent down from his chair to pick up your bag from the ground, placing it on the table as he turned to look at you with a small smile “If it makes you feel better,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen in the classroom “You have consumed my entire life as well.”

Your face broke from the bothered look you had put on, swinging your head so you would be looking at Regulus “It does,” you smiled “We’re attached to the hip.” you said, moving your chair so you would be next to him.

“That’s why we are spending the winter break separate.” he told you, his arm resting around your shoulder “So we don’t get bored and before we end up killing one another.”

You chuckled lightly “The thought had crossed my mind.” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder “That doesn’t mean it won't be difficult to be away from you. You’re my best friend.”

A silence fell all over the room and took you into it, pondering over the fact that a couple of months before you didn’t even acknowledge the existence of the other. You thought fate was funny in that way, friends you made on the first days after starting your life at Hogwarts were now strangers that glared at you from the opposite side of the Great Hall at dinner, people you knew your entire life now strangers you barely knew how to start a conversation with, even greeting them represented a challenge; friends you thought would be there for the rest of your life were now gone.

You had met Regulus months ago and you couldn’t imagine your life without him, and that scared you. The feeling of not being friends with him, of not knowing if you would ever see him again broke your heart and filled you with dread. Sure, you were spending two weeks apart but you knew you would see him once the holidays were over. The thought of losing someone had never made your stomach twist and your heart race quick the way it did when you thought about losing Regulus.

“I think that’s the beauty of us.” he said, capturing your attention immediately “Time is not the core of our friendship, it’s something else.”

You smiled, relaxing against his side as you hummed “Like what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” he answered honestly “But I will like to find out.”

“Hmm, me too.” you sighed, another peaceful silence taking over the room “Promise me you’ll write.” you said out of the blue, his chuckle vibrating all over his body and through yours.

“You’ve made me promise I’ll write a thousand times now.”

“I don’t mean just these two weeks. Anytime you need something, that we’re away from each other, or if you just saw someone falling and it reminded you of me just… just promise me you’ll write.”

With his heart skipping a beat, Regulus couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth, his gaze falling at the top of your head. Never would have he thought you would be scared of him leaving, that you would be scared of losing him as he is of losing you. In his eyes you were so confident, so sure of what you do every single time, you had lost all our friends and because of what. Because of you, he reminded himself.

“I promise.”

Your mouth was left with a bittersweet taste after charms class. It wasn’t every day that you and Regulus got that deep in your conversations. Usually, the matters you talked about were more sarcastic and almost on the humorous side of the aspects of your life; school work and competitions was common as you spent at least an hour of your day glued to the chairs from the library. Deep emotional conversation was just unknown. You knew Regulus didn’t like it, and yet he seemed to be the most comfortable out of the two of you. He might be your best friend but Rowena Ravenclaw knows, you’ll never fully understand him. You’ve made peace with that.

It was the older Black brother you had trouble with.

Charm class was the last one for the day, Regulus having an extra class he worked on late at night that left you with hours for you to exist by yourself. Something you silently thanked as you walked outside the Great Hall after dinner.

Standing on your toes, you moved your gaze over the sea of heads that flowed from the Great Hall, all the chat and laughter making you snap your head in every direction that sounded slightly similar to the one you searched for. The green and yellow of the robes stood out the most, your eyebrows scrunched together as you lowered yourself to your usual height. You started to move, following the students as you held tightly onto your bag. “Where are all the Gryffindors?” you asked inside your head. And that’s when you saw it, the flaring red from Gryffindor robes as they all ran and cheered down the hills. The Quidditch pitch.

*******

Sirius and James had led the Quidditch team to the pitch, their loud cheers and whistles enough to draw the attention of the entire team and drag them down to an unplanned practice. Although they referred to it as a small game to celebrate Friday night, Sirius knew James wanted them to practice.

They were all in the air as soon as they crossed the lines drawn on the grass to mark the limits of the pitch, bags and school work scattered in the ground without a care. Peter and Remus sat on the grass, chatting calmly as they watched their friends play.

“Hey, Remus.” Peter asked, getting a hum from Remus as he never broke his gaze from the Quaffle, “Do you think Sirius likes Y/N?” he asked with the shake of his head.

Remus let out a laugh, head thrown back in the air as he got a few looks from the players “Was it ever a question?” he asked back, turning to Peter.

Peter laughed, the small chuckle dying down as he stared at one single point in the distance “Yeah, that wasn’t really my question.” he said, their hair flying to their faces as the two seekers rushed in front of them after the snitch. They blinked back, following the game without actually paying attention. “Do you think Y/N likes Sirius?”

Remus’ attention broke from the Quaffle, his look thoughtful as he considered it. What were the chances Y/N liked Sirius? Not many, he thought to himself. “I don’t know.” he answered “If I had to guess I’d say no.”

Peter smiled, his eyes scanning the air as he smirked in James’ direction, the act capturing the Captains’ attention as he followed Peter’s gaze “I think she does.” Peter said confidently, “I actually think she was in the crowd tonight.”

“Right.” Remus scoffed.

“Want to bet?” Peter asked, an eyebrow raised in his direction as he extended his hand towards him.

Remus nodded, clasping his hand in Peter’s as he shook it.

The match lasted a good two hours. Both sides of the Gryffindor team started the game as a playful practice that now had them at each other's throats like the red in their robes had turned green at some point during the game. James yells and instructions could be heard over the commotion of the crowd and the team, the tension palpable in the air as the players flew in the air at top speed. They were flashes of red in the eyes of the crowd. In the end, James’ side of the team won. The entire team flying down from their brooms with grins plastered in their faces.

Peter had jumped to his feet as he saw Sirius lowered himself until he walked on the grass, the smirk permanent on his lips as he walked to greet his friends. “Great game.” Peter said, giving a subtle nod in James’ direction as the smirk he had was mirrored in James’ face. Peter patted Sirius in the back as he was in proximity, his hand holding his shoulder as he leaned on his side “Pulling you best moves for the ladies, huh?” he asked.

Sirius laughed, nodding his head when James walked next to them, nudging Peter’s side knowingly.

“Or should we say Lady?” James asked, wiggling his eyebrows in his direction.

Sirius' face fell, his lips in a line as he recognized the glint in his friends eyes. They didn’t.

“Sirius.” he heard you say, his confused look erased in the blink of an eye as he put on his best smile, turning on his place.

“Hello, darling.” he said, his tone flirtatious.

You smiled briefly, your eyes wandering over all his friends standing too close behind him with expectant eyes. “Hi.” you said to them, all three immediately a mumbling mess as they turned and pretended to fall into deep conversation. You almost wanted to laugh, but you focused on the task at hand “Can I talk to you?” you asked, looking straight into his eyes.

His smile fell momentarily, nodding his head as he made a sign to his friends, who only smiled tightly.

“You little shit.” He heard Remus hiss, making Sirius turn to see James holding Remus back, a smug looking Peter running as fast as he could once Remus got free.

He shook his head with a laugh before he focused on you, following you to a more quiet place, the buzz from the people left behind as you turned to face him “Are you alright?” he asked as soon as you stopped walking.

You let out a breathy laugh “I’m okay.” you assured him, your eyes remaining on him for a second before you recovered your voice, “I wanted to talk about this.” you turned to your side, rummaging through your bag until your fingers felt the soft material of the box, pulling it out and holding it for him to see “You can’t do this.”

He had a confused look on his face, the smirk he usually wore coming back as quickly as it fell “You’re giving me back a rose?” he asked.

You blushed, suddenly feeling stupid for wanting to give it back “No… I mean, yes!” you mumbled, cheeks darker by the second “It’s not the rose, it’s the act.”

“You want me to take back...my actions?”

“I need you to stop.”

He nodded in thought, leaning against one of the wooden posts. He held himself back from teasing you and the red in your cheeks, or the fact that you said need. The only thought in his mind was that you didn’t actually want him to stop.

“So that means you won’t be going to the party with me?” he asked, a fake pout in his lips.

“I have a date.” you said, crossing your arms over our chest.

“You do?” he asked, his back straight as he mirrored your stance.

You ignored his reaction, taking a confident step towards him. You reached for his hand, holding his palm out to you as you placed the box there. “Please, just stop.” you whispered, the volume of your voice enough for him to listen as you stood so close to one another.

He closed his hand over the box, his free hand taking a hold of your wrist as he held it back to his chest, the movement making you stand closer to him “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his eyes looking directly at yours before his gaze roamed all over your face expectantly.

Your heart started to beat hard inside your chest, your feet rooted to the floor as you stood frozen under his eyes. He tilted his head, his thumb moving over the skin in your arm “Do you?” he repeated.

His skin felt warm against yours, the feeling sending electricity all over your arm before it woke you. You shook your hand out of his grasp, taking a step back with wide eyes “That is what I’m asking you. Yes.” you said shakily, holding your arm against your chest.

He tried to suppress his smile, he really tried but in the end he broke in a grin. “I’ll stop.” he stated, looking down to his palm before he connected your eyes once more “I only ask for one thing.”

He didn’t expect you to stay and listen, your jaw clenched as your look turned into a glare “What is it?” you asked harshly.

“Save me one dance.” he said, his voice soft and rid of any teasing or amusement.

“Right.” you scoffed, turning your face to the sky in disbelief. But you were met with silence, making your arms fall at your sides with a questioning look “You’re serious.” you asked, watching the glint in his eyes light up as he smiled. He opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off, lifting one finger right in front of his face “I swear to Godric Gryffindor if you make a joke you’ll be dancing by yourself.” you said harshly.

He bit the insides of his cheeks, letting himself feel the flutter of his heart at the simple gesture of you stopping his joke, like you knew him already. “Do you accept my offer, then?” he asked, offering his hand.

Your eyes lowered to his hand doubtfully “Do you promise you’ll stop?”

He nodded his head softly and you sighed, taking his hand.

What you didn’t expect was the squeak that left your lips as he took hold of your hand, holding it to his lips as he placed a short kiss over your knuckles.

“I’ll see you then, Y/n.” he told you, turning on his place as he went back to the pitch.

“See you.” you mumbled to yourself, staring at him and cursing him for the hurricane of thoughts left in his place. That didn’t go as planned.

TAGS

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy / @megaprincesscakes / @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend / @amourtentiaa / @zaidlyn

Marauders

@destourtereaux

Winter in the Shade

@plethoraofpuppies / @dracoissohot / @funravenclaw2002 / @nehireerdogan / @ktyflwr / @lilyevanswhore / @edithsvoice / @medalloway-blog / @falconxbarnes / @blackst0nes7077 / @gabitanaka47 / @padsfirewhisky / @lazzwhile / @lilylikethefl0wer /

If you're name is crossed it means I coudn't tag you :(

#winter in the shade #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #regulus black #marauders #the marauders #marauders era fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction

186 notes · View notes

marvelwritings · 3 years

Text

A piece of me has disappeared

Summary: By day three, the first doubts set in. He’s convinced Tony is still out looking for him, but putting in the effort doesn’t always guarantee results. These people that abducted him are clever, and they know about his spider abilities.

or: Peter get's abducted and Tony goes to rescue his son

Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet. Morgan is in her bed and there’s no doubt that tomorrow at seven am she’ll be up and at ‘em to wake Peter up. Tony and Pepper are across the room of his, their frantic work attitudes finally put to the sleep they so desperately need. Peter is blinking up at his roof in his bedroom, feeling fine, good even, peaceful and sated and most importantly, safe.

Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet and …. The repeats stops working once Peter’s stomach gnaws again, the hunger he’s so gravely experiencing has switched to a whole new level. No longer the petty grumbles of an empty stomach, instead it’s replaced by the need to eat anything, despite Peter’s rationality telling him he can’t. He’s been locked up for at least seven days, but he’s still to sceptic to eat anything his captors offer him. He’s very close to breaking.

He tries to hold on by imagining that he’s at home, but he’s so tired, yet so fitful he won’t close his eyes for more then 10 seconds, and the constant torture is so jarring it hurts worse to imagine home, then be woken up in reality, than to just to be present. Peter wonders if Tony is every going to find him.

The first day, he had no question about it. Tony is scarily determined and protective to anyone who dares come after the people he considers family, Peter got a first row demonstration when some journalist tried to bad mouth Spiderman and he got clocked in the jaw, so Peter knows it’s just a matter of time.

By day three, the first doubts set in. He’s convinced Tony is still out looking for him, but putting in the effort doesn’t always guarantee results. These people that abducted him are clever, and they know about his spider abilities. So much so that they keep him sedated at all times, just enough sedative to keep him conscious, but not too little that he can tap in his superstrength. Peter will never be able to escape on his own.

Maybe if the avengers got called in they were close, but Peter’s not sure Tony would call in people he hasn’t spoken to in a few months, purely to find him. He can hold out hope though.

The third day is also the day his captures, he hasn’t seen any faces so far and the sedative contorts their voices too much to match them to somebody he knows, start with the emotional manipulation. So far, they had stuck to electrocution by tazers and punches applied to any sensitive area of his body, but Peter must not have been broken fast enough for them.

‘You know, you remind me of the stereotypical bad guys in movies, like in kids movies? Do you like kid movies? My favorite is Frozen’, Peter had once babbled in between punches through bitten teeth, trying to keep up his high spirits.

They didn’t like that one bit.

They claim all sort of ridiculous things, like that the Starks paid money for them to have kidnapped him, that Tony never started searching for him, that he might as well give up because no one was coming to fetch him. Peter laughs in their face, witty even in the face of extreme danger. It was still funny to him then. Now, on the evening of the seventh day, he stares unblinking at a wall, only moving when the physical pain becomes too much and he needs an outlet to scream.

‘Please’, he pleads sobbing. If he wasn’t so starved as he was, so mentally vulnerable, he would have been embarrassed. As it stands, Peter’s just so incapable of resisting, he simply gives in.

‘Please stop,’ Peter whimpers. If he had anything to give he’d bargain, but money is tight for May and him, and he has no knowledge of anything avengers related that could be of interest to these people. Mister Stark told him it was for his own safety, so it wouldn’t be used as leverage against him, but in Peter’s warped mind it further adds proof Tony never trusted him.

‘Ahn’, a captor coos, ‘he’s begging already, how cute.’ The voice is distinctly that of a woman’s, but it hold nothing of the warm timbre both aunt May and Pepper possess. He misses them.

The woman slides a hand up in Peter’s hair, and for one confusing moment Peter thinks she’s going to start stroking it, like Tony does, but then she balls her hands into fists and pulls his head aside. The next tazer gets placed in his neck.

‘This wouldn’t be happening if your so beloved mentor would just give up the plans for the new shield initiative, but alas, as long as he doesn’t you’ll be stuck here. The tazzer buzzes to life and Peter seizes up. It’s the so many’th time today, that Peter gives up on holding back, his scream ricochets in the room.

‘Then again, maybe we went after the wrong kid. Maybe we should have taken Tony Starks real kid? The one he actually cares about?’

Tears stumbles down his cheeks and he wishes he could fall back into unconsciousness, but of course life is not that kind. No, he begs inside his head, to warm out to speak. Not Morgan, never Morgan. He’d die before he’d let anything happen to her.

‘What do you think soldier,’ she addresses the second captor in the room, ‘perhaps a phone call would speed Stark along? A sign of life and how close to it being snuffed out the child is? What do you want Peter?’ She asks sickly sweet, as if it’s a regular question and not a taunt.

Still, Peter can’t help but reach out. He longs for one phone call so wholeheartedly. Maybe, maybe he can convince Mister Stark to get him out of this mess. He could promise to do every task Mister Stark ask of him, he could even offer to work for Stark industries until he could pay back the money he’d pay Peter’s kidnappers, anything to get out of here. Peter will do anything.

‘I think he’s agreeing.’ The woman grins, pulling out a burner phone out of her back pocket. She types for several excruciating moments, in which Peter begs to every god listening that Mister Stark will pick up. That he’ll hear Peter out.

‘Hello,’ the woman greets the phone, her smirk so evil Peter’s spider senses warm him to run, fighting through the drugs. ‘I think I have something that belongs to you Stark.’

She lowers the phone to a few inches from Peter’s ear, because Peter is too tied up to hold it on his own. ‘Speak loudly kid.’

The use of the nickname causes shudders to run down Peter’s back. Why can’t he go home?

‘Mister Stark, please help me, I don’t know where I am, but- I want to go home, please mister Stark I-. I’ll do anything you want, just please.’ Peter’s whines gain pitch, until he is nothing but a sobbing mess, barely worth the name Peter Parker, let alone Spiderman.

The phone clicks shut.

‘Whoops, looks like he hung up’, The woman snickers, patting Peter’s cheek with fake compassion. Peter bellows, heaving so severely the nonexistent food he ate threatens to come back up.

He’d never find out the phone was never connected in the first place.

---

By the grace of Peter doesn’t know what, he drops unconscious after the failed phone call to Mister Stark. The sleep is fitful at best, but at least it helps restock his powers. When Peter comes too, there are loud sounds just outside of the room he’s captivated in. He thinks there’s screaming and pleading, but he’s so exhausted he can’t bring himself to care. His hands drop uselessly by his side, his head turned away from the door as he squeezes his eyes shuts.

Why can’t this be over yet?

The door busts of his hinges, the door falls inwards. Immediately, the yellow and red armor, belonging to the iron man suit, rushes in, with the faceplate down. Now that the door is open, or gone more like, It’s clear that all the sounds Peter had been hearing where the scream of his captures. There are many of them, but they’re being taken down one by one.

Peeking aside the Iron man armor, Peter sees a flash of red and blue, and captain America’s shield knocking someone out cold.

‘Kid, kid’, Mister Stark draws his attention in a panic. The faceplate is still down, which means that Mister Stark is either not here, like he wasn’t when the vulture first dropped him into a lake, or he’s assessed the situation and deemed it too dangerous to lower his defenses.

‘You’re okay underoos, we’re getting you out of here.’ With very little effort, Mister Stark snaps restraints on Peter’s wrist and ancles, all the while murmuring under his breath. He’s trying to reassure Peter, but it’s not having any type of effect.

Instead, the comfort causes Peter to burst into tears once more, his body begging for food and pain medication that will make everything stop hurting. He doesn’t care that Mister Stark is doing this out of rightfulness, or maybe out of debt out of some kind that he’s trying to even out, Peter just wants to go home.

Once the restraints are all loose, and Peter is free of them, Mister Stark waits for a tense second, maybe expecting Peter to hob off the table and join the fight or something. That doesn’t happen. Peter lays motionless on the table, looking intensely at the glowing eyes of the iron man suit, maybe trying to convey a message that Mister Stark can’t decipher.

‘Come on Pete, we have to get out of here before they bring backup. I can only hold them off for so long.’

‘Back up?’ Peter ask nonsensical, his spider senses blaring danger at him.

‘Yeah, they’re big fans of the avengers, they’ll all be swarming in here for autographs soon, but we’re kinda busy so we really have to go now.’ Mister Stark turns frantic, his hands carefully, oh so cautiously, gripping at his shoulders.

Peter allows his muscles to turn limp, pliant under strange hands. They belong to his mentor, to one of the only touches he has ever felt that don’t originate from people who are trying to hurt him, but he’s so very terrified, it doesn’t register. Peter holds still, submissive to whatever is about to happen because the pain always seems to end faster when he doesn’t struggle.

‘Peter’, Mister Stark anguished voice insists, his faceplates lifts up, and the dull eyes of who Peter has come to think of as a father gaze upon him with despair. Mister Starks hair is greasy, his mouth is pulled down in a grimace, and his eyes are, for a lack of better word grief stricken. He’s so much older then he was before Peter was taken. ‘Please buddy, we have to go.’

Mister Stark’s calloused finger strokes Peter cheek with the utmost care, barely even pressing firm enough for Peter to feel it. He does though, and traps the touch between his check and his shoulder. The dam breaks, and the barrier of terror that clouded Peter’s judgment lifts with it. He gasps, coming up for a breath of fresh air, and the moment between mentor and son brings at least a sliver of clarity, before he sinks back under the enormity of his panic.

‘I can’t walk’, Peter rasps, his throat torn from all the screams. He refuses to let that stop him, he’s so close to safety, he needs to push on further just a tad longer. ‘Please Mister Stark, I can’t walk.’

‘It’s okay Pete’, Tony soothes, pressing an unyielding kiss to his forehead, and if at all possible, Peter see the rage harden his face even more. ‘I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s gonna hurt, I’m sorry.’

Before Peter can begin to process that statement, Mister Stark puts the weight on his knees, the iron man suit helping to lift Peter as if it’s no trouble at all. Tony is no liar, Peter finds, as his body begs to be placed back on the uncomfortable bed. Even places that had been relatively unharmed ache, and Peter feels like a broken doll.

��It’s okay Kiddo we’re almost there, just a minute longer.’ Peter clings to Mister Stark, using every ounce of strength to hang on, despite the fact that Tony has a tight grip on him as well. Iron man isn’t fighting alone, as the avengers are here to back him, them, up. In any other situation, Peter would be gushing. Not only is he seeing his heroes in action, but they’re in action for him, to help him, but now, Peter only turns his head to burrow it into Mister Starks chest plate.

‘Please, please’, Peter whispers the entire way to the jet, not even realizing he’s begging for something.

‘I got you Pete’, Tony assures, one hand briefly leaving Peter’s back to shoot at a capture that’s standing in the way of the jet. Other than that, he doesn’t interfere with the fight one time, but he must itch too. Peter hears him bark orders at captain America, telling him to take some of them alive.

‘Please don’t leave me here, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.’

The Jet is nice and warm, something Peter relishes in, but when Tony tries to lower Peter on a medbed, that’s objectively much more comfortable then the bed he was on before, Peter screams. No words are spoken, but the scream startles Mister Stark just the same.

‘Stark, the base is cleared, get him strapped in, Banner is coming’, Natasha ushers, ignoring Peter’s cries and running to the cockpit. Stark has him, she argues, and it does the kid no good to have more prying eyes on him.

‘What is it, are you in pain?’ Tony asks franticly, without responding to Nat, hands hovering over Peter’s body to check for injuries, the light dims when he spots just how badly he was treated in captivity.

Peter screams again when Mister Stark pulls away too far for his liking, latching onto the suit so rigorous it creaks in protests.

‘Please, I’ll be good, don’t leave me, please. I- I know… I’m sorry, Morgan- I’, Peter can’t talk with how much he’s weeping, there are so many things to say and all of them are fighting one another to be said first. Eventually, after everyone has already touched base, the jet leaves and Doctor Banner urgers Tony to place him on the bed, Peter settles for; ‘Don’t leave me here.’

‘Peter’, Tony spits, so harsh that Peter snaps to attention, letting go of the armor and limply following where mister Stark wants him. He gently grips Peter’s chin, mindful of the bruises, and with glistening eyes, he conveys; ‘I’m never leaving you here, do you understand. I don’t care what else you have in your head, but right now, all I need you to know is that I’m not leaving you. Ever.’

He waits for the conforming nod, which Peter only gives when Mister Stark clasps his hand into his. ‘Beside, May would kill me if I came back without her nephew, and I don’t want to be the one to receive her wrath.’ Tony laughs faintly.

He wants to cry at that, good or bad he’s not sure, but instead he allows himself to be lowered, giving in only because Tony is crouching down with him, shielding Peter’s body with his own. It’s unsensical, there in the jet and there’s no danger, but if Peter feels protected Tony will do it, no questions asked.

As soon as he’s in a horizontal positions, Doctor Banner injects him with pain medication, and within seconds, Peter has floated away, dreaming of the lake house with Morgan, Pepper and tony and May at the end of the hallway.

---

Peter knows he’s in the medbay before his body has even fully awoken. He’s been here before, perhaps one to many times for it too be so familiar, and he can recognize the atmosphere from anywhere. The smell of disinfectant lingers around the room heavily, but so does the smell of motor oil, coming from Mister Stark’s lab the floor below the medbay. Usually he’s not alone when he wakes up either, accompanied by Mister Stark or May, maybe even both, and so despite the room having a different connotation, it holds security for Peter.

When all his senses click into place, with an almost audible snap after being out of commission for a week, the burning anguish joins it. It’s almost worse than during the torture itself, because it’s hitting him all at once now, and after stewing for a day his body is one big bruise, but it’s also better, because no more hurt can be added.

Blinking his eyes open, Peter glances around the room and notices that he’s by himself. He hasn’t made up his mind yet whether that’s a good or bad thing. Despite being alone, Peter very nearly cries out for the pain medication he’s sure Tony has at hand. His metabolism runs through painkillers faster than a normal body, but Mister Stark has experience in that department thanks to captain America, which is why Peter never wakes up in the medbay feeling sore.

He’s hoping to snatch some of the good stuff before he can sink away in sleep again, until a dark thought pops up in his head. What if Mister Stark purposefully didn’t give him enough medication so he wouldn’t stay asleep? What if Peter is expected to pay of his debt starting this very moment? It would make sense. Mister Stark is a man that likes to get a move on things, and this is probably no exception.

He bites back a loud whine. He’s so tired and sore, and if he could be anywhere in the world right now he’d choose the lakehouse and rest on the back porch, while looking over Morgan and ensuring she’s safe.

Still, it’s heaps better then what was waiting for him before, so Peter sucks in a deep breath and lifts himself up. He’s dresses in a hospital gown with socks on his feet, the only reprieve of the cold of the tiles that he has. His body fights in protest against the jolting movements, and Peter sinks back into bed three times before finally managing to stay upright. He swallows back bile, and blinks away the disorientation woozing its way through his head.

‘Friday’? He whispers, voice cracking on every syllable.

‘Yes, mister Parker, the AI replies easily, as chipper as a computer can possibly be. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ she adds, when Peter takes too long to reply. It’s not out of rudeness, but the words take a while to be processed in Peter’s hazy mind.

‘Can you tell me what Mister Stark wants me to do?’ Peter finally asks after coughing to clear his throat. Pride flows through his bloodstream when he manages to sound fine.

‘Mister Stark has not given me any directions, but by the distress and elevated heartbeat he experienced whilst at your bedside last, I hypothesize that he would like you to rest Peter.’

Confusion laces Peter’s next move. Rest? But if that was the case why wasn’t the man here, ensuring that he does like all the other times he’s been in this position? Deciding not to ask the AI anymore questions, while simultaneously ignoring her advice, Peter focuses on setting one foot in front of the other. If he can’t get a direct answer out of Friday, he’ll just get started on cleaning up in the lab.

The last few times Tony and Peter worked in there, Mister Stark had jokingly grumbled that the lace was getting to disorganized even for his taste, which definitely means something. Peter limps his way to the door, already breathing more heavily and deciding to take a rest against the still closed door. His foot throbs, so Peter switches to put the most weight on the side of his foot, instead of on the balm.

The small trek has left him bone tried, and the lab still seems so far away. Peter tries to calculate how far the lab still is, and agrees with himself to divide the length into smaller stretches. His next stop is at the elevator, so Peter shuffled along the floor, ignoring the black spots that dance before his eyes and threaten to have him collapse.

The extortion reminds him of the time that Toomes dropped a building on him, which is just plain ridiculous, this shouldn’t be half as tough. Peter scolds himself to man up when about halfway to the elevator he bumps into a cart and whimpers.

After finally finding support on the elevator beams, Peter allows himself a twenty second break to cry. At this point, the exact reason for crying is unbeknownst to him. All that he does know is that he feels like a mess, like someone took all the spiderman away from him and left him as a pile of uselessness. He shouldn’t have the right to complain however. Mister Stark rescued him from a fate much worse, the least he could do is help him out.

‘Friday’, Peter pauses to gulp in more air, and to force his tears back. ‘Open the elevator.’

‘Mister Parker I would advise-‘

‘Please’, he begs, voice barely louder then a whisper. The AI complies without further disagreement. The elevator begins to move the floor bellow it, soundlessly passing Peter along. The theme song, a little joke that Tony had installed after they made a song about spiderman, which plays during every elevator ride when Peter is present, stays off. The doors open, and Peter stumbles out, cheering up a dash when the mess doesn’t look as bad as he had imagined it. The clean up should be doable within two hours, even in Peter’s injured state. Most of the mess comes from scattered papers and documents that Tony tosses aside and never bothered to do anything with, and of mechanical parts that are ready to be thrown out.

All in all, not a lot of weight that Peter has to pick up. He has barely started on five pages when the elevator behind him opens again. Peter hadn’t noticed it going to a different floor in the first place.

Lister Stark burst out of the room like the devil himself is after him. He pauses for one second to observe what Peter’s doing -he’s in the middle of bending down at a very lateral pace- and then he’s off again, cursing under his breath.

‘Jesus Christ Peter what are you doing?’

He pulls out a rolling chair from behind his work bench and rushes it to Peter side. ‘Come on, sit.’ He says already clenching a hand around Peter’s bicep to guide him down. In his confusion, Peter follows his instruction.

‘Mister Stark?’ He questions, eyes tracking his mentors movement as if he’s afraid he’s done something wrong and punishment will follow.

There is none, all that Tony does, is fall down on his knees in front of Peter, so they’re making direct eye contact. Peter gulps at the sight. He’s sure those jeans cost more than half of what May ears a month, and if Peter is expected to repay those too, he’ll never be able to pay of his debt.

‘Kiddo, what are you doing?’ Mister Stark asks incredulous, his hand never leaving Peter’s arm. His eyes sweep over Peter’s form, noticing the ailments that he aggravated by walking all the way down here. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get started already.’ Peter admits shyly. He can’t understand why he’s being treated with such kindness all of a sudden.

‘Started on what Pete? I don’t understand.’ Mister Stark shuffles closer, one hand coming up to cup Peter’s chin, sweeping gentle circles that are meant to calm himself down as much as Peter.

‘Paying of my debt.’ Peter replies confused, wrapping his arms around his stomach area and bending downwards in an order to self sooth. He needs to get up soon, are Peter’ not sure he will be able to. Now that he’s granting his body some rest, the pain he forced to the back of his mind is rushing back in.

‘What debt kid, you need rest and you need it right now. Stay here, I’m going to go get you a gurney so you don’t require any more walking.’

Right as Mister Stark gets of his knees, Peter’s hand shoots out, gripping the older man’s wrist. The action was pure habitual, but now that he’s initiated contact he doesn’t know what to do.

‘When will I have to start working then? I’d rather get started as soon as possible, to thank you for everything Mister Stark.’ Peter’s voice pitches even lower, letting his head hang down in shame. He really doesn’t want to offer his suit back, Spiderman is what gives him purpose, but the sooner he no longer has a debt, the sooner he can start working to provide May with an extra income as well. He has no choice.

‘I can give you the suit back if you’ll accept it.’

Tony regards him with perturbation for several long lasting moment. Then, he gasps, finally clicking in his head what Peter is going on about.

‘Oh kiddo, that’s the concussion speaking. Listen to me,’ he sinks back down in front Peter, taking his hand in his. ‘You have done so much for me. If anything it’s me that should be in debt to you.’ Peter pens his mouth to argue, but Tony hushes him softly.

‘You’re not thinking straight buddy, that why spider baby’s need their rest. But truly Peter, you don’t owe me anything. Well except maybe you owe it to be safe, I think I’ve earned that much.’

‘Really?’ Peter asks optimistically, his whole body filling up with a feeling he can’t name, but it chokes him up until he’s bursting with the urge to give a hug to his mentor.

‘Yeah Peter of course. All I want is my kids to be safe.’

Kids. Tony sees Peter as his kid, as equal to Morgan. A person to love unconditionally without needing any favors, without having any debt. Of course Mister Stark won’t ask that of him, despite his front, the man has a heart that’s made of gold. Mister Stark, his mentor, and his father figure.

‘Dad,’ Peter sobs, almost falling out of the chair in his rush to get to Tony. The man immediately returns the hug, holding Peter up in a way that he hopes will be the least painful for him.

‘You’re okay Peter you’re okay.’

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking’, Peter confesses, deeply ashamed of how low he thought of his dad.

‘It’s okay Kiddo, like I said it’s the concussion. Of course you were scared, I can’t blame you. I promise that I tried so hard to find you bud. I’m sorry it took me so long.’

Peter says nothing, he’s had enough encounters with Tony now to sense that the man wouldn’t believe him if Peter told him it’s okay. Instead he just nuzzles closer, accepting all the love and affection radiating from Tony, and giving back what he hopes is just as much.

‘Can we go back to the lakehouse?’ Peter asks softly, burring his head in Tony’s neck. It might be a weird question coming from him. He liked the beach house enough, but he has never actively asked to go there when they could stay at the tower as well. But now, Peter won’t feel safe unless his down there, in the cabin hidden behind threes, where the environment is quiet that he can hear everyone’s heartbeat, and can confirm that everyone is safe.

‘Sure kid.’ Tony responds, a tad bewildered, but happy to provide anyway. ‘We’ll leave as soon as you get check out okay. I want to make sure you didn’t rip anything.’

‘Okay’, Peter mumbles, a bone deep tiredness washing over him, and letting him sink down into Tony. ‘Thanks dad.’

If Peter were more awake, he would have noticed the silent tears of happiness streaming down Mister Starks cheek at the name. As it stands, Peter just hums contently when a kiss is pressed at the top of his head, and Tony strikes a hand through his hair.

‘Anything for my son.’

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #hurt peter parker #hurt/comfort #tony stark imagine #tony stark #protective tony stark #fluff #angst #Peter gets kidnapped #and tortured #but not in detail #Tony is affectionate #Peter's apprehensive #marvel imagine #spiderman imagine #spider son #irondad #irondad imagine

62 notes · View notes

migilini · 3 years

Text

Roadtrip - Charlie Gillespie

a/n: just a daydream I had when I saw this GIF. It’s not proofread. I’m open to requests.

Words: 2k

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

You and Charlie were on a road trip from LA to Oklahoma and last to Chigaco. Your boyfriend had to move there due to the fact that he got cast in a movie and you were fortunate enough to move with him, being able to work from home. It wasn't your idea to drive all those miles via car, but Charlie doesn't like flying so he avoided it at all cost and because you love him, you accompanied him for those dreadful hours.

It was way too early for your liking, of course Charlie knew that and put up with your grumpy, nontalkative mood, simply shoving a large cup of coffee into your hands. “Ma cœur, how much longer until you're more awake to talk to me?” Charlie asked after a while, as he glanced over to you on the passenger side, his free hand tracing little hearts on your thigh. You yawned and took a sip of the now lukewarm coffee. “About this much.” You measured the amount still in the cup, making him chuckle.

You and Charlie have been dating for nearly one and a half years now, however it feels like it's been much longer. From the start, the two of you were attached at the hip, instantly comfortable around each other. Everybody said that you two moved too fast because you moved in with each other after only three months of dating, but because of Covid you didn't want to risk being apart. Even though objectively speaking, you and Charlie were not the same, you were more daydreaming than actually paying attention and you didn't need the adrenaline in your life, you completed him in a magical way.

Right now you two were two hours in, the coffee was empty and you ass already sore from all the sitting. It was something you always despided about yourself, you could spend all day laying in bed, but you couldn't sit still, changing position every now and then. Tapping your foot to the beat of the song streaming from the radio. Charlie calmly hummed along to the song, his fingers also tapping along. You looked over at him and couldn't love him more.

“Are you excited to see Owen and Jer?” You asked him, breaking the silence. A breathtaking smile overtook his face “You know it! How about you?” You nodded, also excited to see the boys again. “Mhm. I missed them a lot.” The song on the radio changed and you huffed in annoyance, you hated that song. Sensing that, Charlie took out his phone and connected it to the car.

“Charlie! Don't drive and be on your phone!” You snapped it out of his hand, giving him a displeased look. Scrolling through Spotify you eventually choose a song to your liking. 18 by OneDirection blared through the speakers, while you put the volume higher you turned in your seat. “I have loved you since we were 18. Well technically 20 but that's a detail.” You whispered the last part. He scrunched his nose in amusement, a quirk you loved dearly.

The two of you screamed lyrics at the top of your lungs, the car driving on an empty highway. The rest of the world fading away, leaving the two of you in a cozy little bubble of your own. The day continued just like that, the two of you singing to songs and just enjoying the company. You loved seeing him drive, something about it was just so attractive to you, maybe it was the way his arms flexed when he moved the wheel, or the fact that you yourself were unable to drive. Even with your 21 years of life, you refused to sit behind the steering wheel and Charlie had tried several times, it always ended with you in tears.

“Do you want to stop somewhere to sleep? It's getting kinda late and you have been driving the whole day.” you questioned, looking at the horizon as the last beams of yellow and red vanished slowly. “Yes please. Can you search for a hotel around here?” Nodding, you took his phone and went onto google maps.

“There's one about two hours away in New Mexico. Reviews look good and the price isn't too high. Sadly no breakfast included, so we're gonna get you something on the road, not gonna let you starve, otherwise I will be stranded here.” He gave your thigh a playful slap and a squeeze “Yeah, yeah love you too, Char. I will look it up… Ah perfect! There's a Dunkin Donuts five miles from the hotel. Does that sound good babe?” He hummed in approval.

“Ah a man of words!” he took one of your hands and gave it a light kiss. “You know me. I always wanted to be a Mime.” he joked.

Before you knew it, the car came to a stop in the pitch black. Only a little yellow neon sign lighting up the hotel parking spot.

“This looks like this one Teen Wolf episode…” you murmured, not feeling the best about this place. “You’re just saying that because you're scared of the dark ma cœur. I'm here to protect you. No Monsters are harming you tonight.” he teased, getting out of the car. In typical Charlie fashion, he walked around the car and opened your door and held out a hand for you, immediately intertwining your fingers.

You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. “Ha ha…”

The two of you were happy to finally walk off the stiffness of your legs, as you walked over to the reception.

“Hello. We would have a room please.”

The receptionist was in his late 30s, his greying hair falling messily in his eyes and a big smile sat on his thin lips. “No Problem. Is a king bed alright with the two of you?” he didn't want to assume anything. You and Charlie chuckled, nodding slightly “Preferred actually.”

Five minutes later, you waited in the room 345 while Charlie insisted on getting your bags. Stretching, you tried to get rid of the soreness in your back, your eyes nearly falling shut.

Charlie opened the doors, giving you a tired smile. “Let's get to bed. Tomorrow we rise early!” you groaned, making him chuckle. Standing up, you walked over to him, your arms wrapping around his familiar frame. He was stroking your head, giving it a kiss before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

In the meanwhile you changed your clothes, changing from some jeans and one of his hoodies to sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

You gave him a hasty kiss as he came out of the bathroom, smelling the mint of the toothpaste still lingering on his lips. After you washed your face and brushed your teeth, you let yourself fall into the bed. His arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

“Thank you.” Turning around to face him, you traced his features with your fingertips “For what?”

“Coming on this drive with me. You could have easily convinced me to fly, you know.”

“I know mon amour.” you said, looking into his eyes, as you tried your best to keep yours open. You left several kisses on his bare shoulders until your lips met his. He smiled into the kiss and then nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, pecking it several times before stopping.

“Good night. I love you.”

“Good night babe. Love you more.”

The next morning came way too fast and you didn't want to move out of his comfortable and safe arms into the cold car, but you had to. The sunrise hadn't even begun, the sky still a dark blue, when the two of you drove into the Dunkin drive through, to get you a coffee and a donut. You had to have something sweet in the mornings.

“Actually, I saw a little restaurant on the way here that should have takeaway, do you mind if we take a quick stop?” you shook your head, trying hard not to fall asleep again. An idea ignited in your head and you sat up straighter. “What if we go live while you drive? Maybe I'll be more awake or I'll have stuff to read.” you requested, looking at your boyfriend with a slight pout.

“Sure thing. I'll bet they'll love it.” Smiling, you grabbed his phone from his hand and went into Instagram.

“Hey Char and y/n here.” you introduced while trying to balance the phone on the dashboard “Its freaking early and I’m nearly falling asleep so I thought you guys could entertain me a bit. Mister Gillespie over here isn't as interesting as you guys.” he pouted into the camera, you leaned forward quickly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The chat was already flooding with hey’s and questions about your relationship and where you were going.

“Is it true that you sometimes talk french to Charlie?” you read from the chat, your eyes widening a little in surprise.

“Sometimes. I mean my french isn't the best but growing up in Europe, I picked up some stuff.”

“She’s just being humble, she understands a lot and her accent is hella cute.” Charlie piped in, pulling into the drive through he mentioned earlier. “Je vois que tu comprends." He said to you, a slight smile playing on his lips. You got lost in his eyes for a second before responding. “Of course I understand babe!” he grabbed your hand and kissed it softly while chuckling.

“OMG that was just so cute!” you read out loud from the chat. Blushing slightly, you giggled, “He loves to do stuff like that when he’s driving. Always showing affection in one way or the other.”

“Uhm next question...What are you two doing so early? Someone asks.” with an raised eyebrow you look over to your boyfriend “I think you can answer this.” you turned the camera a bit so he was more in frame. “We're going to Chicoago, Chigacoooo.” he quoted the iconic Victorious scene, his eyes scanning the road before him.

He got himself a cheese thing of some sort, you couldn't quite make out what it was and parked on the side of the road, getting his food ready in front of him.

He bit into his cheese thing while you sipped on your coffee conversing with the chat. Just earlier you had begged for music suggestions, telling them to send their best road trip songs. Charlie looked really good right now, his hair was pulled together in a bun and he was wearing a blue shirt. You on the other hand had your hair in a top bun and the same hoodie from yesterday, a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. You just wanted to ask if you could have a bite, when he got cheese all over his chin.

He laughed as he looked over to you. Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned forward in your seat. Your face mere inches away from his, you could feel his breath on your face. You stuck out your tongue and licked the cheese away, your eyes never leaving his.

Without giving it a second thought, you settled back into a comfortable position and took a sip from your coffee with a prominent smirk on your face. Leaving a dumbfounded Charlie and a screaming chat.

Not even an hour later the clip of you licking his chin, in maybe a bit of a too sexual way, went viral in the community.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie images #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x oc #jatp

351 notes · View notes

thebigoblin · 3 years

Text

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

#sterek #my sterek fic recs #sterek fic recs #derek hale #stiles stilinski

61 notes · View notes

lovesanmotion · 3 years

Text

Light - Jeong Yunho

summary: cool uncle by day but mafia boss at night, jeong yunho is ready for anything; except for falling in love.

tags: @couchpotatoaniki (yes i am tagging you bcs you blossomed this idea to me hihi)

A deep sigh left Yunho's lips, lighting up his cigarette and sticking it between his lips before releasing pearly white smoke. His once neat suit was now covered in sweat, dust and a trickle of blood from earlier events, singlehandedly killing a mafia group from the neighboring city. He lifted his wrist watch and checked the time - 10:01pm. Sandwiched between his middle and index finger, Yunho raises his cigearette stick onto his lips and puffed out a smoke.

His once cool composure broke when around the corner, the slim but curvy figure of his neighbor - y/n y/l/n came into view. She had her head hung low, shoulders drooping down and walking gloomily home. But Yunho stared at her. Around y/n, he felt like a high school boy who has a crush on her. He didn't also missed the fact that it was too late for y/n to go home. Work hours ends at 5-6pm, but 10? Yunho wondered if you took an overtime.

As y/n passed him by, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Feeling his face heating up. Getting up from the bench, he dropped his stick and stepped on it before following you home. With his hands tucked inside his pockets, Yunho wondered why you ever chose to live in a dangerous city like this. Was it because the rent's cheaper? Or to live close to your office?

He stopped his tracks and hid behind a pole, watching you get inside your home building safely. Watching you get home safely is what Yunho's been doing ever since you moved into the area and with a smile on his face, Yunho walks back home.

As the sun sets into the blue sky, Yunho packs up a lot of candies in his pocket before leaving his home and strolling to the neighborhood park. Clad in a bright red and white striped shirt and pants a bright smile on his face, Yunho would never be mistaken as someone who killed a group of guys last night. The cool breeze swept past him, causing his bangs to fly away.

As he found the children playing merrily and happily in the park, his heart swelled with an overwhelming feeling. How he wished these children would grow up into kind and humble adults. When the children saw him coming up to them, a chorus of "uncle Yunho!" greeted him, followed by all of them running up to him for a hug, some even hugging his legs.

Sitting down on the wooden bench, he gave each child a piece of candy and chocolate. Their little smiles upon tasting the fruity and sweet treats brought a smile on his lips too. However, Yunho mentally did a head count on the children.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. One was missing, and the one missing happened to be his favorite. He was about to open his mouth and ask them where y/s/n when a small but cheerful "uncle Yunho!" greeted him from behind. Turning around, his eye's widened.

His neighborhood crush, holding an ice cream cone with one hand and the other holding hands with his favorite child from the playground.

"Mommy this is uncle Yunho! He's the one who always watches us and gives us candy when we play here!" A deep shade of red plastered on Yunho's cheeks. Slowly he turned away and sunk a bit lower on his seat, feeling himself getting shy. But he was a little surprised to know that y/n has a son.

Yunho watched as y/s/n joined the other kids in the slide and on his left side became occupied by you.

"Doesn't it get a little sad when you watch them slowly grow up? One day they are only crying for attention and the next thing you know you walk with them to preschool." Y/N spoke, taking a lick on the vanilla cone.

"Do you have kids at home?" Yunho shook his head. But he would very much like to have one with y/n.

"I'm y/n by the way!" He looked at the hand extended out for him to shake before looking at your smile. Yunho's heart beated loudly inside his chest, not missing the sight of the ice cream on the corner of your lip. He slowly leaned in and raised his hand, wiping the cream away with his thumb.

"Nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Yunho." He smiled at you, seeing that pink tint across your cheeks. Yunho thanked the gods that this might be the chance for him to properly talk to y/n. He turned to his side and striked up a conversation with you, slightly getting distracted with the way how you lick your ice cream.

"Uh..hello? Earth to Yunho?" Yunho snapped out of his trance and shook his head, batting his eyelashes. Yunho stared at you. "What was that again?"

"I was asking you earlier if you wanted to have lunch with me and y/s/n. Think of it as a thank you for watching over my son." Turning his head, he saw the children leave one by one until it was your son left sitting in the swing.

"I-I would love to!" He blurted out, maybe a little too loud. Yunho suddenly backed away, suddenly feeling shy but he only found y/n chuckling at him.

"That was cute. Anyways, let's me show you where I live." As Y/N got up, so did he. He took the pleasure of carrying y/s/n in his arms as he followed you to your place, he had to pretend he didn't know where you lived. How was he going to explain that he has been following you for months already?

"Welcome to our place!" Spoke Y/N in a cheerful tone. The place didn't look half bad. As he sets y/s/n down and removes his shoes by the doorway, he took in the appearance of your place. It isn't big nor small, perfect for two people living, light wooden floors, cream colored walls, yellow and green cupboards and a mini bookshelf thats occupied by books about numbers, letters, alphabets and story books.

"This is a nice place you've got" Yunho says, sitting down on the couch only to be sunk lower as he didn't noticed how the couch was small.

"I guess I was lucky to find this one. More greenery in the province than just seeing buildings in the city." Y/N spoke, Yunho watched her enter the kitchen. He got up and excitedly followed her like a high school boy following his crush around school.

"What are you going to make there?" He asks as he stood behind Y/N making her jump a little. Yunho didn't realized how close he has gotten to her, but he felt like his heart would burst at how small she is close to him.

"Does pasta sound nice?" Y/N tilted her head to the side. If only his mornings were spent this close to y/n, Yunho would be in heaven already.

As Yunho was about to say something, in came little y/s/n holding his school bag.

"Mommy, can you help me with my homework?"

Two heads snapped to look at y/s/n who stood by the doorway of the kitchen.

"Your mom would love to!" Yunho smiled at y/s/n, held y/n by her shoulders and pushed her out of the kitchen despite her many protests against it. Yunho opened the fridge to check what ingredients were available, he grabbed whatever he needed and placed them on the counter and started cooking.

It was only like last night, he was using the very same knife to slice throats and now he's slicing meat with the same knife. But Yunho was only occupied by the merry thought of cooking for his crush.

After half an hour passed, Yunho beautifully plated three pasta bowls on the table. He gave himself a pat in the back for doing an excellent job and was about to call y/n and y/s/n to eat when he heard some talking.

"Mommy do you like uncle Yunho?" A small voice, y/s/n, as Yunho thought. His heart raced upon hearing this kind of conversation. There was a moment of silence, Yunho was fidgeting to know your answer.

"Mommy can uncle Yunho be my dad?" Yunho clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. But there it was again, that silence.

"Let's see, y/s/n. Want to see uncle Yunho if he's done?"

Yunho started to get up from his spot but hit his knee in the process, an inaudible sound came out of his mouth and suddenly the door swung open. Y/N and Y/S/N stared at him with a blank yet confused looks on their faces.

"Uh..lunch is ready!" Yunho smiled and instantly stood up from the ground. As he lead them to the kitchen, he was proud to see their expressions and sat down, paying attention to y/n's reaction before eating.

"So what do you do, Yunho?" Y/N asked while twirling pasta with her fork.

Yunho racked up his brain to think of what should he say. But he choked up in between.

"I'm unemployed at the moment" He says. There was no way he is ever going to tell that he kills people, raids warehouses and factories and regulates drug deals within in and out of the country. "What about you? What do you do for a living?" Yunho gulped the food down his throat before facing you.

"I, uh...I just work at, at a very boring corporate office. They don't pay much."

"Is that why you do overtime and get home late at night?"

"What?"

Yunho stared at y/n wide eyed. That was wrong of him suddenly mentioning it to you. He shook his head and carried on the conversation by changing the topic.

For the whole afternoon, Yunho stayed with Y/N and Y/S/N, watching kids movies while having a snack. Y/S/N falling asleep in the middle of the movie. Yunho took the pleasure of letting y/s/n sleep on his chest, he could get used to being a househusband. With the sun setting, Yunho thought it was best for him to go home. But was stopped by y/n to join them for dinner. On the outside, Yunho thanked you. But on the inside, Yunho was giggling.

He cooked once more in the kitchen, clogging out y/n's protests. Dinner became a happy meal as all three of them became full. While y/n was cleaning up in the kitchen, Yunho asked permission if he could take y/s/n out for a walk, promising he'd be home by 8pm.

Yunho took y/s/n to the convenient store, handing him a whole bar of chocolate in his small hands. But the little boy stared at him.

"But mommy says I can't have too much sweets" the small boy pouted.

"But your mom isn't here right? This'll be our little secret. You and me." Yunho grinned at the small boy who flashed a toothy smile in front of him.

"Uncle Yunho do you like my mommy?"

"Very much." Yunho suddenly stopped as he looked back at the child with him, now grinning at him.

"Okay, that's another secret between us. Don't tell your mommy about that too okay?" The small boy nodded his head quickly, Yunho held his hand and walked back home with him. Unaware of two eyes following them as they head back.

(gif is not mine! credits to the rightful owner!)

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #ateez oneshot #mafia!ateez x y/n #mafia!ateez x reader #mafia!yunho x reader #mafia!yunhoxy/n #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots

149 notes · View notes

lostinwildflowers · 3 years

Text

Strange Magic

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Summary: In a world where dark elves are trying to take over, light fairies are being hunted and captured to be used as weapons. You are on the run from them when you enter a forest, accidentally injuring yourself. A mysterious wyvern appears before you, will it hurt you or lend you a helping hand?

Word Count: 10.5K

Warnings: slow-burn(It wasn't supposed to be I swear, I hope I did this right), pining, mentions of blood, swearing, choking(minor torture), fantasy AU!, Morphling!Ushijima(called a wyvern), Fairy!Reader(physical appearance is human), uhm I made some creatures up, angst, and fluff of course :D

A/N: Hey y'all this is my submission for @bluebellhairpin aka Nemo's Fantasy Collab! I wanted to continue stepping out of my box, so I wrote for good ole Ushiwaka for this fic! Please leave a comment or reblog this, I worked really hard and planned this out for a long time. Thank you and enjoy :D -Birch <3

You didn’t know where else to run, the thundering of hooves sounding out everywhere as you charge towards the forest. The dark elves were on you in an instant when you crossed their border, and you should have known better than to run.

War cries could be heard from behind you, and you duck under some vines, terror ripping through your body as you could start to make out individual voices.

You try to tread as quietly as you can through the forest, the dark green canopy thick and very high above you. Your (colored) eyes catch onto some small blue wisps floating through the sky, the small creatures twirling around in a friendly hello.

There isn’t time to dawdle though, Oikawa’s elves would be on you in a second if you didn’t keep moving. You wind your way through the trees, the voices and clangs of the elf warriors fading as you make your way deeper into the woods.

The bad thing was that the canopy was so thick you were starting to lose your vision, and you were terrified to use your powers. As a light fairy, you could produce soft beams of light at will whenever you were in a good headspace. But whenever you got mad or frightened, you lost almost all control over it, leading to forest fires and devastation.

You settle for emitting a small bit of light from your pointer finger, allowing it to glow like a soft candle as you pick your way over huge and gnarly roots, the material of your skirt getting caught on the jagged edges of the moss.

Crackling in front of you stops you in your tracks, and you are soon met face to face with a small herd of shadow deer. The black creatures were known to be kind and friendly toward those around them, so you smile in relief when they simply acknowledge you as you walk by.

There must be water nearby if there are shadow deer around. Hopefully, there aren’t any water sprites, those things are painful to deal with, you think to yourself, once again tugging on your skirt as you scutter around a particularly nasty vine.

Your breathing had managed to calm down at this point, the only thing you could hear was the rustling of the shadow deer next to you munching on the grass and the faintest roar of water in the background.

A squeal almost leaves your lips as your eyes focus on the faint path in front of you, pointing your glowing finger forward for a better view. When you catch sight of a shimmering dark blue sparkle you immediately start making your way down the dirt path, pink and purple glowing mushrooms lining the way down to the water’s edge.

At this point, you were completely lost in the middle of the forest, your surroundings glowing a deep midnight purple. You look around the path briefly to see if any small animals would cut in front of you and you think, I bet nothing is out here in this twilight. It’s almost impossible to see without a light.

You were lost in your thoughts and trying to remain calm, keeping your light steady, that you didn’t realize the path had turned from dirt into wet stone. Your feet slide out from underneath you, a loud crying leaving your lips as you hit the ground, your right calf ripping against a huge and sawtoothed rock.

In your haste to get close to the water, you also didn’t notice a sharp pair of green eyes were watching you from across the riverbed, eyes that seemed to glow neon with intensity.

You groan at the pain radiating through your back and your butt. The fall had made you land clumsily, causing your light to flicker out in haste.

In the dark twilight of the forest, you could see the faint gleam of rushing water, and you sit up slowly as another whimper leaves your lips when you shift your body. At a quick glance, you can see a wet, dark red liquid on your leg, and then a burning pain starts to set in.

You cough lowly, gasping in pain as you try to clutch your leg, eyes welling with unshed tears. A loud splash in the water sings out as a huge shadow begins to loom over you.

You are met with bright and shining olive green eyes, and you feel your heart start to race and your stomach clench in fear as you gaze up at the wyvern in front of you.

A harsh and dissonant screech leaves your lips as you try to scramble away from the huge creature that resembled a two-legged dragon. The sharp green eyes pierce you to the point where you feel like you can’t move, but the pain in your leg tells you that you can’t move because you’re injured.

In your panic, you accidentally start spewing light from your hands and onto the soft, dry leaves next to you. They easily catch fire, the orange and yellow glow of the flames lighting up the huge creature in front of you.

You could make out large, dark green and brown scales all over its chest, and you catch sight of a huge and swinging tail behind it. The flames start curling up a dried tree on the end of the path, and you begin your scrambling again, trying to crawl away from the monster in front of you.

In a flash, the wyvern turns around, its tail cutting deep into the water as it puts out the flames around you in an enormous wave. The path is dark again, the only light being from the few squished mushrooms you scrambled over and the olive glow of the wyvern’s eyes.

The figure of the wyvern shimmers for a few seconds before your eyes, and in a heartbeat, a tall and muscular figure stands in front of you. His eyes don’t seem to glow as much in his human form, but the intensity is still there as he begins to walk toward you.

Your heart is beating erratically at this point and you point your hand at him and shout panicked, “Get back or I will blast you!”

That immediately stops the large figure in front of you, the man stops dead in his tracks and puts one hand out in front of him slowly. He blinks once, his eyes staying focused on yours as he states, “I’m not going to hurt you. I am here to help.”

You manage to shuffle back onto your butt, sticking both hands out in front of you. Your eyes are wide with fear and you yell back at him, “How do I know you aren’t working with the dark elves to capture me?!”

This causes the man to tense all of a sudden, his large frame freezing at the sound of “dark elves”. His olive-green eyes remain latched on your own as he slowly crouches down, his hand still held out in a peaceful manner.

“I am not working for Oikawa,” he states lowly, his voice gravelly and deep. You just stare at him distrustfully, so the man continues, “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi, but you can call me Ushijima.”

You put one hand down as you start to gather your feet underneath you, preparing to stand up. In your movements though, you gasp in pain, and Ushijima shuffles forward to help you.

Quickly you put both hands out again and you yell, “Stay back!” With that, a small burst of light flies from your hands, but Ushijima ducks out of the way easily, turning his head to watch the light sail past him.

He turns his head back to you and he replies, “Your aim isn’t too good, you must be in a lot of pain. I know you light fairies only have a limit to how much light you can expel.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze at his words, your hands dropping as you look at him in shock. Your mouth remains hanging open as you stutter out, “H- how did you know?”

A frown finds its way onto Ushijima’s face as he murmurs, “My friend, Tendo, was a light fairy. He was taken by Oikawa’s dark elves when he wouldn’t turn himself in to be used as their weapon. As far as I know, they killed him.”

At Ushijima’s confession, you sigh dejectedly and nod slowly, “I’m sorry to hear that, Ushijima. There aren’t many of us light fairies left. My name is L/n Y/n, and I’m on the run from Oikawa and his men.”

Ushijima seems to soften as you introduce yourself and he blankly responds, “You are injured. You can’t possibly run from the dark elves in this state. Let me help you, my hut isn’t too far from here.”

You nod wearily, trying once again to get up on your own, by whimpering when you brush your leg against the hard stones underneath you. Warm hands on your waist haul you to your feet, and you are met with those same intelligent green eyes.

“It might be best if I carry you, we have to cross the water and there is no way you can wade through that on your own,” Ushijima remarks, his hands lingering by your sides as he awaits your response.

You go to argue with him, but as you apply pressure to your injured leg, it wobbles and gives out on you. Ushijima’s firm grasp is around you in an instant, and he doesn’t say anything as he picks you up in his arms bridal style.

Ushijima is very cautious as he carries you through the water, the coolness of it lapping at the bottom of his tank top. Once on the shore, Ushijima asks you how you are doing, and you simply shrug, “I don’t know, you’re the one carrying me.”

With that, a small smile curls at the edges of Ushijima’s lips, and he sets out for his small hut. The walk to his shack is quite beautiful, you must admit. On this side of the river, the moss glows a gentle emerald green, and the tree trunks are a mix of black, navy, and burgundy barks.

There are a few small creatures you see along the way, one or two more shadow deer, a few red and oranges wisps too. What catches your attention is the fire sprites hanging around the tops of the trees.

The fire sprites were known for their very short tempers, but you were surprised to see how kindly they smiled at you in Ushijima’s arms. The man doesn’t seem to notice them himself, his pace not wavering as he maneuvers through the trees toward his home.

You notice Ushijima relaxes slightly at the sight of his house against the twilight sky. The hut is pretty small, enough to support one person, I suppose, you think to yourself as you take in the compact building.

Ushijima is ever the gentleman as he helps you inside the front door, boarding it shut behind him as he guides you over to a table. He clears it as quickly as he can, taking the pieces of parchment and moving them to a smaller desk.

You look around the house as you plop down in one of the wooden chairs, eyes scanning to see a small fireplace, couch and kitchen. Ushijima appears in your vision, two lit lanterns in his hands.

He sets one on the table you were sitting at, and he hangs the other on a hook by the door. After that, he finds a drawer, pulling out 10 or so candles. He quickly lights each of them, setting them up throughout the room to provide ample light.

It was at this moment, with his back turned to you, that you realized how handsome Ushijima was. He was littered with ropes of muscle, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the beefiness of his back that you see peeking out from under his tank top.

In your ogling, you hardly register it when he turns around, his gaze soft and curious as it meets your own. He sets the medical supplies on the table as he takes his place in a chair next to you and asks, “Y/n? Are you alright? You look slightly dazed.”

You just rub at your eyes and shake your head side to side twice to clear your thoughts as you mumble back, “Uh, yeah. I think I just lost a lot of blood, but I should be okay.”

Ushijima nods in reply as he starts to prep the supplies, grabbing a small glass bottle of alcohol and some gauze. Kind green eyes meet your own troubled (colored) ones and he asks quietly, “Is it alright if I clean your cut now?”

You blush faintly and scoot your leg over to him, pulling up the hem of your skirt so he had access to your wound. Ushijima’s hands are rough and warm against your smooth skin, but he is gentle as he picks up your foot to set in his lap.

In a few motions, he wets a small piece of cloth with water, cleaning up the edges of the cut from where the river water mixed with your blood. After that, he takes a clean cloth and allows it to soak in the alcohol for a second, glancing at you and saying, “This is going to sting.”

You grip onto the edge of the desk as he dabs at the wound, and you can’t help the way your knee tugs toward your chest at the sharp sting of it. You bang your knee slightly at your sudden reflex, and Ushijima stares blankly at you and says, “I told you it was going to sting.”

An embarrassed flush covers your face as you nod, stretching your leg back out. Ushijima stops you though, moving his chair closer so he’s sat next to you, your thigh slung over one of his legs as he looks down at the cut intensely.

“I’m going to have to clean this thoroughly. I can see dirt in there, and it could get infected if not cleaned properly,” he states monotonously, looking down at your scared face.

His expression softens at the clear panic etched on your features and he glances away while mumbling, “You can grab onto my arm if that will help ease your pain.”

So while he gets to work on cleaning your wound, your hands find a place around the girth of his large bicep. He does his best to work as efficiently as possible, but when he has to pluck a few pieces of grass and rubble out, your hands tighten around the muscle to the point you thought you were hurting him.

Ushijima is nothing but kind and patient as he wraps your calf with some gauze, securing it with some medical tape before setting it on the ground tenderly. His hands don’t linger as long as you would have liked, because he’s soon grabbing all of the dirty supplies and finding a place to dispose of them.

As Ushijima washes his hands in a pail of water he murmurs quietly, “You can sleep on the bed for as long as you like. I can rest out here by the fire.”

You wince as you turn to face him and you say, “I can’t possibly take your bed, this is your home. I’m just a guest here because you were kind enough to help me out. I don’t even know how to repay you.”

Ushijima almost smiles at this as he shakes his head, “No, I insist. You need the room on the bed for your leg to stretch out. I will take the couch to keep an eye out for intruders. No one should be around or have followed us, no one knows where I live except for you.”

You open your mouth to object again, but you think better of it and instead ask, “So you said you knew a light fairy? Oh, what was his name… oh, Tendo?”

Ushijima’s large frame freezes from drying his hands, his back turned toward you. You see him sigh and turn around slowly, sitting in the chair next to you again. Ushijima runs his hands over his face, his fingers trailing through his olive-brown hair as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Tendo was my best friend,” he starts, “I’m a wyvern, and Tendo grew up next to where my family lived. He was never afraid of my morphling form, and I was never afraid of his light powers.”

You listen as Ushijima tells you his backstory and about how he ended up in the twilight forest. He mentions how his family moved across the country without him, and that he was sought after for his hardened scales as armor.

In turn, you explained how the dark elf king, Oikawa Tooru, was hunting the light fairies for his own personal army. You tell the story of how they caught you on the edge of their territory, leaving them to follow you in pursuit as you made your way into the twilight forest.

Deep in the dark lands, an obsidian castle stood high against the rising moon, one of the tallest towers flickering with the light from a holding chamber.

In this chamber, a defiant red-headed light fairy was chained, his spirit not broken as the dark elf king and his loyal soldiers tried to corrupt him.

A gasp of, “I will never, submit to you, Oikawa!” leaves the redhead’s lips as the dark elf uses his power to choke the air out of Tendo’s lungs. The dark elf king just smirks madly as he releases his power, allowing the light fairy to crash to his knees.

Oikawa turns to his left and calls, “General Iwaizumi, bring in The Siren.” The dark-haired male nods, and slips down a blackened hallway within the castle.

A few minutes go by before General Iwaizumi is accompanied by a silver-haired male covered in patchy blue and green scales. Oikawa turns to the siren and states, “Semi, you need to sing this foolish light fairy into command.”

Semi nods hesitantly under Oikawa’s command and makes his way toward the chained-up fairy. Oikawa and the other dark elves leave, locking the two creatures in the room as Semi’s enchanting voice starts to sound out.

The following morning in the twilight forest is surprisingly calm, and you groan as you roll over in the large king-sized bed. A broken cry leaves your lips as you feel pain in your leg, and in a few seconds, Ushijima is standing at the frame of the door, concern written all over his features.

“Y/n,” he rushes, “What’s wrong?” He answers his own question when he pulls back the sheets on the bed to expose your leg, blood coating every inch of the bandage he had wrapped last night.

Ushijima’s eyes harden in determination as he glances at the pain etched on your face. Without another word, he turns and strides out of the room, his hands clenched at his sides as he finds more medical supplies.

In a minute, he’s back by your side and murmuring softly, “Y/n, I need you to take your skirt off, it got tangled between your legs when you slept, causing your wound to open in the night.”

You are half asleep and in pain as you listen to his words, and you grumble out, “Can you at least help me to my feet? I don’t think I can stand up on my own.”

Ushijima is immediately by your side, sliding one hand behind your shoulders while the other sits at the small of your back, helping to heave you to your feet. You stumble slightly, but Ushijima catches you as you fall into his chest, your forehead making contact with his sternum.

You close your eyes in pain as you mumble out, “Ow, you’re bony.” Ushijima huffs at this, a genuine smile sitting on his lips as he steadies you.

Ushijima is very respectful as he helps you out of your skirts, his eyes only staying above your chest or below your knees as much as he can. He starts to take off the soiled tape once he has you sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels in front of you to remove the blood-soaked gauze.

His hands feel nice, you think to yourself as he situated the new wrap of gauze, his brows furrowed in concentration. You blink shyly at your own thoughts as he stands up and walks over to a chest near the end of the bed.

Ushijima pulls out a pair of pants and a large green shirt and sheepishly rubs his head as he looks at you. He starts, “I, uhm. I don’t have any clothes that will fit you, and your skirts will keep getting in the way. You can wear these.”

Your face flushes with warmth as he hands you the clothes, slipping out of the room to let you get changed. As he walks away, Ushijima doesn’t understand why his heart is beating faster and he can’t stop thinking of you sitting on his bed with his clothes in your hands.

It takes you a little while to get changed, but once you do you hesitantly call, “Uhm, Ushijima? Could you help me to the kitchen?”

At that, Ushijima walks back into the bedroom with a small plate of fresh berries, some bread, and a small piece of meat. He tries to calm his breathing as his eyes catch you looking divine in his clothes, but he can’t help the way the tips of his ears burn red.

He clears his throat and says, “I made some food for you, Y/n. I need to leave you here and head to the nearest town to get supplies. If I’m not careful, your leg could end up infected, and I need more bandages and some clothes for you.”

You shuffle toward the food, the collar of the shirt sliding down to expose your collarbones as you reach for a strawberry. Ushijima has to rip his eyes away from you as he bows slightly, walking toward the door.

You look rapidly at the sound of his retreating footsteps and you yell out, “Ushijima, wait!” The tall man stops as he passes through the doorway, placing one hand on the frame he turns his head over his shoulder and asks, “Yes, Y/n?”

Butterflies erupt finds in your stomach as you manage to say, “Thank you, Ushijima. For everything.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you almost think you said something wrong when all you can focus on are his bright green eyes.

But then Ushijima gives you a gentle, closed-lipped smile before saying, “I will be gathering my cart for the next little while, I will tell you whenever I am leaving.” At that, he leaves you in the tightly packed bedroom to go prepare for his trip.

The day goes by pretty slowly at the start, as you had woken up early in the morning due to pain. Ushijima had left right as the forest started to shimmer a mulberry shade of purple, the sun trying its hardest to brighten the dark woods.

You try to rest on the bed, but you feel bad for having bled all over Ushijima’s sheets, so you take your time in standing up, carefully peeling the blankets off the bed and over to the washbasin you had seen when you walked in.

You didn’t necessarily walk around the house, but you limped with care as you lifted the sheets off the bed and carried them into the small living room. You add a log to the fire burning in the hearth and your mind wanders, Ushijima must have added wood before he left this morning.

Somehow you manage to tug the basin closer to the fire, allowing the heat of the flames to warm the basin slightly as you begin scrubbing at the bloodstains. This takes up most of your late morning and into lunch, having to stretch your leg out carefully as to not cramp it.

At this point in the day, the forest was a lot brighter, as the wind was moving quickly through the canopy, splitting open the dark blanket to allow some light to shine down onto the forest floor.

You hang the blankets up in front of the fire in hopes they would dry before Ushijima would get home. You feel your stomach grumble from all of the moving around you were doing, and the dull ache in your leg only intensifies throughout the day.

You look at the small kitchen within the hut, and you see the small box of berries that Ushijima had grabbed fruit from whenever he gave you your breakfast. As you gaze upon the small fruit you think, I really don’t want to eat all of these, but I don’t know where else to get food.

Thus, you end up snacking on the berries for a while, filling up your stomach while also leaving plenty of strawberries, raspberries, and wild berries in the bottom of the small basket. Once your belly was pleasantly full, you crawl over to the couch where Ushijima had slept and you curl up into a ball, letting sleep overtake your exhausted form.

It’s late afternoon when Ushijima returns, the sounds of wings beating alerting you of his presence. You quickly get up from the couch where you had been dozing, and you head straight for the front door, undoing the deadbolt in a hasty swing.

You fling the door open to be met with the green and brown wyvern you know to be Ushijima, his eyes ferociously green in his morphling form. You notice the large cart on the expanse of his back and you recognize boxes and crates full of supplies.

You can’t help the awe that covers your features as you begin to walk toward Ushijima’s huge form. He quickly starts to transform, allowing the cart to slide off of his back gracefully before he is revealed in his human clothes.

Ushijima quickly starts heading toward you, picking up a jog when he sees you stumble. Just before you reach him, your injured leg dips down in a slight hole in the forest floor, and you trip, your face rushing toward the ground.

In a flash, Ushijima lunges forward, somehow managing to slide under you so you land on his chest with his back to the ground. He coughs once as he tries to regain the air in his lungs, and you tense as you feel pain ricochet through your legs.

Neither of you realizes that his hands are firmly wrapped around your waist, but as your head catches up with what happened you look down at him and ask, “Ushi- Ushijima, are you alright? You didn’t have to catch me you know.”

Ushijima just nods slightly and sputters out, “Hng, uh, yeah Y/n, I am fine. Is your leg alright?” You nod in response, and you notice that your lips are only a few inches away from his own plump ones.

You can see smaller speckles of gold and brown within his sharp green eyes, and you feel yourself getting flustered by noticing his handsome features up close. You swear you see Ushijima’s eyes flick down to your lips, but you blame it on your vision failing you.

Ushijima’s hands tighten around your waist even more, his arms practically wrapping you in a hug to his chest when your leg slides off of his own. You flush under his warm gaze and his even warmer touches, your stomach filling with butterflies as he looks over your features.

“You are very beautiful,” Ushijima whispers softly, untangling one hand from around your waist to brush a piece of hair out of your eyes, tenderly tucking it behind your ear.

You don’t know what to say for a second, your cheeks getting hotter as he continues to look at you. You end up murmuring back a simple, “Thank you.”

Ushijima sits up slowly, your forehead moving to rest on his own as he shifts his weight forward. Your lips catch the side of his cheek in a soft kiss, and you pull away quickly at the realization of your actions.

You don’t notice the red staining Ushijima’s cheeks though, and he simply helps you stand up without another word.

The two of you work in tandem unpacking all of the supplies, Ushijima brings the crates inside while you start taking items out and reorganizing them. This goes on for an hour or so before Ushijima’s cart is cleared.

He locks the door behind the two of you, securing the deadbolt before swiveling around to the boxes. Ushijima glances at your leg and asks, “How does it feel? I managed to bargain for some pain medicine, if you need some I can grab it.”

You shake your head and say, “I’m alright as of now, but maybe before bed, I really don’t want to bleed all over your sheets again.” You glance absentmindedly at the sheets strung in front of the fireplace and you curse yourself for not putting them back on the bed earlier.

Ushijima’s gaze follows your own and he almost frowns when he sees the sheets hanging. He steps forward and states, “I’m sorry Y/n, I should have cleaned those before I left this morning. You probably overexerted yourself doing this.”

You smile up at the large man from where you are sitting and say, “No, it’s alright Ushi. I didn’t have anything else to do today, and I was the one who dirtied them.”

His hand tugs on the now dry sheets and he grumbles lowly, “I will put these back on the bed. You can help yourself to the meat crate on the table.”

You simply nod as he walks past you, and a fluttery feeling makes its way from your stomach and into your chest as you catch a whiff of the woodsy scent lingering on him from his journey.

These next few days are going to be interesting, you think to yourself. I don’t know what I’ll be able to do to make up for my injured leg, but I’ll have to figure something out. Ushijima is too kind for me to just leech off of him.

Days turn into weeks as your leg starts to heal, and you are walking a lot better than you had before. Ushijima was nothing but kind and compassionate toward you as you healed, making breakfast and dinner every single morning and evening without fail.

You, in turn, would help do laundry and collect berries and vegetables from the small garden Ushijima had next to his hut. Ushijima had objected at the start, but he realized you needed something to do while he helped you heal and hide from the dark elves.

More recently you had decided to show him your powers, starting off with emitting a soft and golden glow from the tips of your fingers. Whenever your leg was completely healed you showed him how you could toss the beams of light like how you did when he first encountered you.

Ushijima found himself enjoying your presence more than he would have liked to admit. You had started filling the hole in his heart that had been made by Tendo’s absence and he was scared. He was scared that you would leave him or be taken away like how Tendo was, and he couldn’t let that happen.

Even worse yet, Ushijima was wanting to touch you. Not sexually or suggestively, but whenever you both would walk to the river to get water, he wanted to reach down and lace his fingers with your own.

He wanted to cuddle you on the couch in front of the fire when the nights got cold. He wanted you to grab onto his arm when you tripped or if you needed him for something.

Ushijima found himself wanting to be your person. He didn’t even know what to do about it because he didn’t know if you felt the same way or not.

Meanwhile, you wanted to rest your head on his shoulder after you set the fishing line and were waiting for something to catch. You wanted to chase after him in the field of wildflowers on the edge of the forest. You wanted him to kiss you on the forehead when you went to lie down in his bed.

You craved his touch after all of these months, his warm and rough hands sent shocks and shivers up your spine. His touch was electric and magnetic all at the same time, it caused you to shiver and shake with a simple graze on the hand.

You thought for sure you had ruined it one night when you had asked, “Ushijima, I know I have been a guest in your house for a while, and you’ve been calling me by my first name since we met. Is it alright if I called you Wakatoshi? Or even Toshi for short?”

The man had frozen where he was cutting vegetables for your small dinner. A pregnant silence hung in the air and you bit your lip in nervousness when he didn’t answer.

You shuffled on the couch as an embarrassed flush spread on your cheeks and you murmur, “I understand if you would like me to continue calling you-” “No,” he cuts you off.

“Please call me Wakatoshi or Toshi. You have been great company, you can call me whatever you like,” he continues as he resumes chopping up the carrot. You don’t notice the red on his neck and ears, and you don’t see the toothy grin that he lets slide onto his lips.

There was another instance when you had been making small sandwiches for lunch while Ushijima was out chopping wood. He had been at it all morning and you thought he might like a glass of lemonade.

What you weren’t prepared for was to walk around the corner of the hut, a cup of lemonade in hand, and be met face to face with Ushijima’s muscled and very much shirtless back.

The sound of the cup hitting the ground made Ushijima whip around, the axe in his hand swinging as he faced you. When he saw your dazed look and redden cheeks, he immediately dropped the tool to his side.

“Are you alright? What’s going on?” he had asked you, raising up the axe above his head to lodge it into the piece of wood he had been chopping.

A squeak leaves your lips at the sound of the crack, and your feet step into the remnants of the lemonade on the ground. Ushijima turns back to you, his broad chest glistening with sweat as he walks over to you.

You can’t help but gulp as the huge man approaches you and then reaches down to pick up the cup, handing it to you with a gentle, “You accidentally dropped this.”

You just nod and take the cup from him, quickly limping and scurrying back into the hut. Your fingers at your face and eyes as you groan into your hand, and you look at the cup with disgust as you think, Have I really gotten this attracted to Ushijima? I know I’m living with him, but damn.

A few weeks after the lemonade incident, Ushijima took you down to the river to help him gather water to store for drinking. He carried two buckets on a long pole slung over his shoulder, and he let you carry a few bottles in a satchel slung across your body.

The two of you made simple small talk as the river approached, and Ushijima took the liberty of getting thigh-deep in the water to fill up the buckets of water before returning to shore.

You had simply crouched on the riverbed, reaching forward ever so slightly to fill up each bottle carefully. You watched for sand or any bugs that might have gotten in the way, so you didn’t see Ushijima behind you.

He rested a hand on your shoulder gently as he said, “The buckets are full, so whenever the bottles are ready we can head back to the house.”

Ushijima’s touch and low voice ended up scaring you, making you jump forward into the cold water of the river with a shrill scream. You ended up only rolling into the shallows, but your entire body was soaked head to toe when you emerged.

Your mouth hung open accusingly at Ushijima, whose expression was one of shock and fear as he regarded your wet figure. He steps toward you and into the shallows, reaching a hand out to say, “Oh my goodness, Y/n, I did not mean to scare you, I simply-”

A splash of water cuts him off as you shove water with your hands toward his tall frame. Ushijima slightly recoils at the sensation of the cool water on his skin, and he goes to ask you what you were doing until he sees the coy grin on your lips.

With his own chuckle, he reaches down and splashes you back, his feet guiding him deeper into the blue water of the river. A squeal flies from your lips as you try to scramble away from him, but his hands grab at you as he dunks you both in the refreshing river water.

Laughter sounds out from the two of you, your giggles sound like wind chimes compared to his deep baritone. You almost stop laughing just to hear the beautiful sound fall from his lips as you catch his gaze.

Ushijima rests his hands on your back, holding you close in the middle of the river as the two of you lock eyes. Water drips down from his hair and onto the plump apples of his cheeks, where a large and toothy grin awaited you.

You mirrored the cheerful look on his face, eyes squinting up at him as you rested your hands on his chest, your own torso heaving from the giggles still falling from your lips. The warmth from his body made your skin tingle from the temperature difference, and you found yourself getting lost in his comforting green eyes.

A loud buzzing can be heard from the other side of the river, catching both you and Ushijima’s attention rapidly as a horde of water sprites fly at you angrily. Ushijima pushes you towards the shore as he follows in suit, his clothes clinging tightly to his muscled form as he grabs his buckets and lifts the bar across his back.

You grab for the few bottles you had managed to fill, pushing them into the damp satchel quickly as you clamper out of the water and to where Ushijima was waiting. The two of you set off as quickly as you can without spilling the buckets, laughter and giggles spewing from both of you as you make your way back to the hut.

Then there was your biggest and most embarrassing moment yet. You had come to learn that the days in the twilight forest were warm, so a shirt and pants were fine, some days even a cropped shirt was acceptable.

However, the nights in the forest were absolutely brutal, as temperatures dropped rapidly, and that was why Ushijima kept the firewood supply stocked constantly.

The night had gone as usual, the sun was setting which meant it was time for the front door to be locked and the board to be set in place. Ushijima had the fire going from dinner and was poking at it slightly to shift the embers around.

He still insisted on sleeping on the smaller couch, even though you had offered him the bed countless times. Ushijima would always say something about how he was raised to respect women and that you were recovering from an injury and he didn’t want to take advantage of you.

But that night, you laid shivering and cold in Ushijima’s expansive bed. The comforters did little to warm you, and you even wore one of Ushijima’s larger shirts over your own smaller one in an attempt to warm yourself.

The constant cold and shivering had you exhausted, but sleep couldn’t quite seem to find you. This led you to your current predicament.

You were standing in the doorway of the bedroom, facing the kitchen and the soft glow from the fire. You couldn’t see Ushijima, but you knew he was laying on the other side of the couch, hopefully asleep.

Soft footsteps lead you over to the front of the fire, and with as much care as you can manage, you settle down next to the hearth, hands held out to try to warm them up.

A sigh leaves your lips as the fire begins to heat your fingers up, and you tuck your knees under your chin as you bask in the quiet warmth. A blanket being draped over your shoulders makes you turn hastily, and you see Ushijima standing behind you, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“If you were cold you should have told me, I would have added more logs to the fire,” Ushijima states quietly, his arms crossing over his chest as he regards your small, balled-up figure on the floor.

You glance at the flames to keep your eyes off of his handsome face as you murmur, “I thought you were asleep, Toshi. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Ushijima carefully sits down next to you, opening his left arm to invite you into his chest for extra warmth. You shyly scoot closer to him, tucking your cheek into his chest and letting one hand rest on his thigh.

He wraps his arm around you slowly, as if to not scare you as he pulls you closer to his chest. His green eyes linger on the top of your head as his voice rumbles, “You are my main priority right now, Y/n. I have to tend to your needs, even if it is as simple as warmth.”

You nod slightly, the body heat radiating from Ushijima sending tingles up and down your spine. The warmth starts to spread all over, and as you start to drift off in Ushijima’s arms, you could swear something touched your head.

In a few moments, you were asleep in Ushijima’s lap, and he couldn’t believe he had actually kissed your forehead. Ever since you had accidentally kissed his cheek, he had wanted to return the kiss to you somehow, and he had been given the perfect opportunity.

The following morning, the fire had burnt out when you woke up, but you weren’t cold at all. Yes, there was a blanket covering you, but the weight of a solid and firmly muscled arm was wrapped around your torso, locking you in place and constantly giving out heat.

Behind the said arm was the looming figure of Ushijima, whose eyes were peeked open slightly, watching and waiting to see when you would wake up. He felt you shift against him, and that’s when his eyes popped open.

He lifted his arm slightly, allowing you to turn to face him as you blinked sleepily up at him, (colored) orbs half-lidded with a lazy smile on your lips. Ushijima smiles softly in return, his arm tightening again when you nuzzle into his chest.

Neither of you discusses the way you enjoyed holding each other, especially when you have to untangle from each other’s limbs and begin your day. After breakfast, you call out, “Toshi, I need to go refill our basket full of berries, I’ll be near the river if you need me for anything.”

Ushijima nods from where he’s sketching a map at the table before turning to you and saying, “Be careful out there since you are going by alone. I know you can protect yourself but some creatures won’t be kind to you.”

You roll your eyes and nod, giving the green-eyed man a mock salute as you grab the basket, hauling it to your hip as you make your way out of the small shack and into the woods.

The walk to the river only takes a few minutes, and so you set to work, grabbing handfuls of the small blueberries and huckleberries that liked to grow within reach of the water.

You quiet hum to yourself as the basket slowly starts to fill up, your leg cramping every once in a while, forcing you to take small breaks in between handfuls of berries.

Out of nowhere, a large wave of light is fired at you, causing you to get blasted through the huckleberries and down to the riverbed. A scream escapes your lips as you land, echoing throughout the forest as the plants around you catch fire.

Ushiwaka hears the scream from where he had just started tending to his garden outside of the house, and he begins sprinting toward the river at the resounding cry.

Then through the path burnt by the light and fire, stands Tendo Satori, his palms glowing and a sadistic grin on his face. As the light fairy makes his way towards you, you scramble to your feet, holding your own glowing palms out in front of you in defense.

Tendo smiles at you before saying, “Well, well, well, little light fairy, looks like you’re trapped.” And he wasn’t wrong, you were surrounded by water, which definitely didn’t aid you in fighting.

Ushijima appears moments afterward, his chest heaving and his eyes widening as they lock onto the tall form in front of him. He coughs for a split second, gaining the attention of the red-headed light fairy as he stutters out, “T- Tendo? I thought you were killed...”

Tendo just laughs out, “Oh my, you big oaf, I was simply recruited to the correct side of this world, to serve under his majesty, King Oikawa.”

As Tendo takes a step toward you, Ushijima steps toward Tendo with a deep shout of, “You get away from her, NOW.”

Tendo ignores Ushijima’s words and starts advancing toward you again, bringing a light beam to his fingers, he chuckles darkly.

You glance at Ushijima, panic, and terror written all over your disheveled features and you yell to him, “This is your friend, Tendo? Why didn’t you tell me he’s a psychopath?!”

Ushijima starts to make his way toward you as he calls back, “Well he wasn’t like this before! He never would have bowed down to Oikawa unless they brainwashed him!”

True panic starts to set in at Ushijima’s words, and you can feel the control of your power start to slip with every passing second. Tendo laughs maniacally, shooting beams of light at you in rapid succession.

On instinct, you engage your light power, sending a huge wave of light and heat out, causing trees and bushes on the edge of the water to catch fire. You had stopped paying attention to your surroundings, totally giving into the dark and dangerous part of your power.

Tendo just smiles at you and shouts with joy, “Yes! Yes! Unleash your true power, my fellow fairy!”

Ushijima had to stop whenever you sent out your blast of light, and he was at a loss for what to do as you lost control of yourself. He gazed around him, eyes cataloging the damage of your powers, ruining all of the berry plants and the new growth at the water’s edge.

With no other choices left, Ushijima starts to transform into his wyvern. He hopes it’ll be enough to battle Tendo, or at least begin to start putting out a large number of the flames.

Once he’s fully transformed, the large wyvern dives into the river before reemerging, trying to splash the flames out as you begin firing at Tendo. Ushijima’s wyvern lets out a roar as he dives at Tendo, his green eyes focusing on the smaller figure of the light fairy.

As Ushijima’s wings carry him around, Tendo gets slightly distracted from you, giving you the chance to aim a little more clearly at the evil light fairy. As quick as one of your light beams, a silent arrow flies across the sky, ripping through one of Ushijima’s wings.

The wyvern falls with an ear-piercing screech, and you suddenly regain control of your powers when you realize Ushijima’s body crashed from the sky and onto the ground. Standing downriver is a tall dark elf, holding an elegantly crafted obsidian bow with an evil grin on his face.

Ushijima had no other choice than to morph back into his human form, the poison arrow sticking straight out of his shoulder. Oikawa appears next to Tendo while you start running over to Ushijima, power and elegance hanging in the air at the dark elf king’s presence.

Ushijima rolls over with a groan and manages to cough out, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n, just defeat them.” Your heart breaks at the battered sight of Ushijima in front of you, his body broken, bruised, and bloody.

It was at that moment, you knew. Ushijima was no longer just someone letting you live with him, helping you out, or even just a caretaker for you. You were completely, utterly, and helplessly in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

With Ushijima’s go ahead, you turn around, light flaring at your palms as your eyes begin to glow gold. A loud scream leaves your lips as you charge at Oikawa and Tendo, light flashing from your palms as you aim the beams at the two men.

In a few quick movements, you have made a fire ring around Oikawa, the flames lapping tall against the sky as you turn to face Tendo. The light fairy is just looking at you smugly, but his smile falters when he hears Ushijima’s delirious call through the crackle of the fire, “T-Tendo?”

A look of horror appears on Tendo’s face as he takes in the raging fire around him and his gaze lands on Ushijima. In a few large strides, Tendo is in front of Ushijima and says, “Oh my gosh, Wakatoshi, what happened to you? What happened to me?”

Ushijima groans as Tendo helps him sit up and he blinks hazily at the redhead, the poison from Oikawa’s arrow starting to pump throughout his blood. It takes a moment for Ushijima to respond before he manages, “Tendo… you, you gave into Oikawa, you were fighting us...”

While Tendo tries to move Ushijima out of the fight, you step through the circle of blazing fire to be met face to face with Oikawa. With a snarl on your lips you sneer, “So this is the Dark Elf King Oikawa, huh?”

Oikawa just smiles back at you, reaching behind him to grab another poison arrow from his quiver as he says, “My, my. That red-headed light fairy wasn’t wrong when he said you had a strong will.”

You spit on the ground next to him, jutting your chin out you spew, “Pathetic. I expected more from you, Oikawa Tooru.”

The dark elf king just smiles maniacally at you, his brown locks of hair wavering from the heat of the fire, as he grabs the arrow from his quiver, quickly trying to catch it on the string of his bow.

However, you waste no time, raising your hands in front of you, you blast him into a solid tree trunk behind him. Oikawa’s hands drop both the bow and the arrows as he flies through the air, his back cracking against the firm wood behind him.

You find it within you to will the fires around you to calm, bringing the flames even with the forest floor before the embers burn out. As you step out of the ring of embers, you see Oikawa knocked unconscious against the base of a tree trunk.

Your (colored) eyes catch onto Tendo’s figure tending to Ushijima, and you go to scream at him to get away when you realize that your fellow light fairy is helping Ushijima.

You jog over to him, eyes frantically scanning over Ushijima’s large figure as you pant out, “Watch over Oikawa, I need to run to the shack and get some rope to tie him up.”

Tendo just nods as you take off sprinting, your legs carrying you toward the small house you had learned to call home. You barely register arriving at the house, finding the rope, and even making it back to the clearing where the three men were at.

You give the rope to Tendo to restrain the unconscious Oikawa as you kneel beside Ushijima, who was flickering in and out of consciousness. You start panicking, and you can feel the anxiety bubbling in your chest as you start to shake Ushijima, trying to keep him awake.

A sob of, “Please stay awake, Toshi. I grabbed an elixir from the medicine drawer when I ran back to the house. Please wake up!” Tears begin streaming down your face as your hands shakily fumble with the small glass bottle.

You call to Tendo, “Please help me get him against a tree so I can get this in his mouth!” Tendo had just finished tying up Oikawa before he returned to your side, helping you haul the large frame of Ushijima over to a tree, leaning him up against the trunk gently.

With your shaky hands, you pop the lid off of the elixir, allowing the mouth of the bottle to press against Ushijima’s lips as you pour the purple liquid onto his tongue. When the bottle is empty you pull away, your vision blurring as you gaze at the battered form of the man you had come to love.

A light cough leaves Ushijima’s throat, catching your attention before you’re hovering over him again, worrying etched in your features. With hazy eyes, he tries to focus on you as he asks, “Y/n? What happened? Where are we?”

A wavering sigh leaves your lips as you cup his face in your hands and you whisper, “You got shot by a poison arrow from Oikawa, Tendo’s back to himself. We are just outside of the river, I had to give you a potion to stop the poison from spreading.”

Ushijima doesn’t say anything, just slightly nods in your hands before his eyes close for a moment. Another cry leaves your lips as your hands tilt his face toward your own, your eyes scanning over his body rapidly, searching for any other major injuries.

You notice Tendo had managed to pull the arrow out, and as you take in Ushijima’s form, simply covered in a ripped up tank top and a pair of pants, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, you can’t help but think it’s the most beautiful he’s ever looked.

“Please,” you whimper as you gently turn his face back and forth in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks, “Please stay with me, Toshi.”

Tendo steps forward and says, “I think he’s just unconscious, I can carry him back to the shack if you want to stay here with Oikawa, I can bring back the cart to haul him to the Kingdom of the Griffins.”

You nod as you release your grip from his face, muffling your cries as you walk over to the tied-up form of Oikawa, and you can’t stand to see Tendo haul Ushijima’s body away.

You sit on the ground in front of Oikawa as you wait for Tendo to return, wincing in pain as you realize how beat up you actually were. Twenty or so minutes go by until you hear the sound of a horse’s hooves and a cart trailing behind it.

You turn to see Tendo driving Ushijima’s small cart and you smile when you realize Tendo had grabbed some chains too. You help the red-headed light fairy load up the unconscious body of Oikawa, helping his chain down the limbs of the dark elf.

A small smile sits on your lips as you look at Tendo and say, “Thank you, Tendo. I’m Y/n, I have been with Ushijima for a few months now. I appreciate your help, and it’s an honor to meet you.”

Tendo grabs your shoulder lightly with his own grin as he says, “No, thank you. I don’t know how Wakatoshi would have survived without me, and you have pushed him this far. The least I can do is take Oikawa to Prince Daichi’s palace, they can detain him there.”

You nod as the tall man jumps into the driver’s seat of the cart, calling over his shoulder, “The trip will take me a few days, I should be back in a week or so. The nearest town is about a half a day’s walk away from here if you need anything. Take care of Wakatoshi while I’m gone.”

You wave to Tendo’s disappearing figure as you begin your own trek back to the small house. You half limp, half walk back to the shack, your pace picking up when you realize Ushijima was left alone while you and Temdo dealt with Oikawa.

When you manage to make it through the front door, you stumble toward the bedroom. You burst into the room to see Ushijima peacefully resting on top of the covers.

You realize he’s in no immediate danger, so you take the time to strip out of your dirty clothes and give yourself a quick scrub down. Afterward, you carefully treat the wounds you can reach before changing into one of Ushijima’s large shirts and a pair of shorts.

Once you are clean and somewhat comfortable, you sit down next to Ushijima, taking a clean and damp washcloth to clean his skin. You wipe everything you can reach without having to remove any clothing, as you couldn’t lift his large form yourself.

You don’t notice the tears slipping down your cheeks until a warm and rough hand on your cheek alerts you. Ushijima is staring at you with half-lidded eyes as he mumbles, “You are so beautiful.”

A broken laugh leaves your lips as you lean into his touch, closing your eyes at the feeling of him being warm and alive next to you. Ushijima’s green eyes glow with love as he scans over your features.

He looks at the curve of your cheek under his palm, he looks at the soft gleam in your eye when you gaze at him, and he looks at the small smile settling on your lips because he’s still with you.

Ushijima allows his hand to travel from cupping your cheek to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your (colored) locks of hair as he slowly sits up. You shift closer to him as he moves to lean his back against the headboard of the bed, and you gently sit on his lap as your faces near each other.

You lock eyes with the green-eyed wyvern morphling in front of you, and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach as he observes you. Ushijima moves his other hand to rest on the lower part of your neck, pushing your body to allow your forehead to rest against his own.

The two of you are silent in that moment, sitting together, breathing together, living together, and for each other. Ushijima can’t help the way his eyes flick from your own to your lips, but he finds himself looking back into your eyes with complete and utter adoration.

His plump lips part slightly as he whispers, “You have my heart, Y/n. You have every part of me and my soul. I give myself to you, Y/n. I love you.”

A bright and blinding smile breaks out across your face as you press your forehead closer to his, and your eyes shut with tears of joy as you rest your hands on his broad shoulders.

Ushijima stays silent as he watches you, not an ounce of nervousness or care in the world for what he just said. He couldn’t be afraid when he just barely beat death, and he had you sitting on his lap, smiling at him.

He thought your smile was as bright as any light ray would have shined, and he feels his heart skip a beat when you open your mouth and reply, “I love you too, Toshi. You have my heart, my soul, and my body. I am yours.”

Ushijima gives you a breathtaking smile as he looks at you, brushing his nose against yours slightly as he basks in what he knows now to be your love for him.

You turn your head slightly, your heart beating faster when you take a glance at his mouth, and Ushijima quickly understands.

Ushijima uses the hand tangled in your hair to gently tip your head, tilting his own face slightly to the side as he leans into your touch. In a final bold move, Ushijima brushes his lips against your own parted ones.

You could feel your heart jump in your chest as your lips finally connect with Ushijima’s, a soft and inaudible gasp escaping your throat as you move your mouth against his own.

Ushijima melts in your touch, and he can’t help but crave the way you taste and feel against his mouth. Your kiss is slow, delicate, and everything he’s ever dreamed it to be and more.

Your lips seem to move in perfect rhythm with his own, and you let one hand smooth up Ushijima’s neck to run your fingers through his short locks of olive hair. Ushijima lets the kiss stay slow and wanting, never pushing you any further than you wanted to go.

You were addicted to the way his mouth tasted against your own, and despite the faint tang of blood, you knew he was everything you had ever wanted. You were almost sad when Ushijima started to pull away, but that feeling soon left when you saw the way he looked at you.

Those green eyes you had fallen in love with shined with adoration, and the smile on his lips told you that you were the reason behind it. You almost flush under the intensity of his gaze, so you lean forward again, chest heaving, to press a gentle and slow kiss to his lips.

Ushijima grunts softly at your movement, causing you to pull away rapidly when you realized your hand had slipped down to where the arrow had entered his shoulder.

You shift in his lap as you stutter out, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” “It’s alright, my love,” Ushijima says softly, cupping your face again and rubbing his thumb under your eye in small circles.

You feel your heart swell at the sweet pet name and you smile down at him and whisper, “I love you, Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

He smiles back at you and replies, “And I, you.”

Tags: @mortedeveles @haikyuutothetop @miatsubaki23 @pocky-writes

140 notes · View notes

agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

A Place Called Home | Chapter 11

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: vet!reader, Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook

Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

You wake up and realise that now, you have 7 hybrids living with you. 4 of them are yours, 1 of them is a rehabilitating patient and 2 of them are just here for the upcoming winter. You try your best to bring them together and make sure they stay happy.

You wake up to be greeted by Yoongi’s sleeping face. He had requested to crash in your room and sleep with you in his arms, which you were perfectly fine with. He could stay in your room for as long as he needed to.

“Yoongs, how are you feeling?” You whispered. It took him a few seconds to respond, stirring in his sleep and yawning.

“I’m okay...” He replied sleepily.

“You can stay here and rest if you want. I’m going to work.” You told him and he nodded. Chuckling, you went to wash up and change into your work clothes. When you came out of the bathroom, Yoongi stood there, rubbing his eyes like a lost child.

“I’m hungry.” He said.

“Then go wash up. I’ll see you downstairs.” You patted his shoulder. Once he entered the bathroom, you grabbed your work bag and headed downstairs.

“Good morning!” You were bombarded with hugs from a tiger and calico cat. You stepped back to steady yourself.

“Good morning, Tae and Chim.” You chuckled. Pulling away, you went to the kitchen to see Jungkook and Hoseok awake. For a moment, you had forgotten that two new hybrids came to live with you yesterday. Jungkook’s long ears twitched when you entered the kitchen. The brothers watched as you went to greet Namjoon and Jin with hugs and pets.

“Are you working a long shift today?” Taehyung asked. You took your phone out to check your schedule.

“Doesn’t seem like it... I only have two surgeries scheduled today. Then it’s consultations all the way... I’ll end around 8pm. If you guys are keen, we can go for a late dinner together.” You smiled.

“That’s sounds great.” Jin smiled and Jimin nodded in agreement.

“You two can come too, if you’d like.” You looked at the two brothers. Hoseok nodded his head excitedly while Jungkook shrugged, looking away as he poked at his breakfast.

“Go where?” Yoongi appeared in the doorway.

“For dinner tonight. My shift ends at 8.” You relayed and Yoongi nodded.

“I’ll be practicing from home for a while so I’m free.” He wrapped his arms and tail around you. You had to leave soon so you sat down and ate breakfast with them. Jungkook remained aloof, not really participating in the conversation but Hoseok was chatting non-stop with the others.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked you.

“I’m a doctor, remember? I work at a hospital.” You smiled as you slipped your shoes on.

“I forgot I promised to bring you and Jungkook shopping for necessities today. I’m sorry about that. But we can go on my next day off, I promise.” You said apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it!” Hoseok assured.

“You guys can come and pick me up tonight then we’ll go. Don’t forget your tags.” You reminded and they all came to bid you goodbye. Instead of collars, you got all of them dog tag necklaces, which looked more like accessories.

Everyone go their unique colour. Namjoon chose blue, Yoongi chose black, Jin chose pink, Taehyung chose green and Jimin chose yellow.

“Jungkook and Hoseok, I know you’re not officially under my care but just so you wouldn’t get in trouble when we go out, I would like to get tags for you as well. If you’re okay with that.” You told them the two nodded in agreement. Both of them wouldn’t want to be separated or taken away since they were strays with no papers.

“What are your favourite colours?” You asked.

“Red!” Hoseok replied.

“Purple...” Jungkook said. You nodded and gave Taehyung one last hug before getting into the van and driving to the hospital. Indeed, today was less hectic. It was mainly consultations and lots of paper work.

‘Don’t forget to eat. - Yoongs’

You smiled at the message and went to the staff lounge to heat your food up (leftovers from dinner). The other nurses and doctors there smiled at you as you sat with them to eat.

“(y/n), you have a lot of hybrids staying with you right?” One of the nurses asked. You nodded your head as you chewed your rice.

“How do you provide for all of them?”

“I don’t actually provide everything for them. Most of them have jobs, actually. I don’t treat them as pets or properties. They can do what they want. When they decided what jobs they wanted, I told them to go for it. Two are working at a plant nursery, one is working at a library and you have all met Yoongi, he’s working at a music school.” You explained.

“Are you going to adopt more?” Dr. Lee, who was sitting beside you, asked.

“If they come along and fit well with the others, then why not?” You shrugged, thinking of Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok.

“You’re seriously amazing, (y/n).” The nurse gave you a thumbs up, making you blush.

“You guys are just as amazing because I’m sure we’re all here for one shared reason, right?” You chuckled. They all nodded and you couldn’t be happier with all the staff that you were working with.

After lunch, you performed your scheduled surgeries and finished your consultations for the day. You sat in your office as the nurses brought in all the files that you needed to fill in or update the charts. You checked all the x-ray films for your patients.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Who is it?” You asked, not looking up from your table.

“Head buried in paperwork again?” Dr Yu teased as she walked in. You threw your head back in laughter.

“When I’m this tired, I prefer paperwork than 6 hour long surgeries.” You smiled, looking back down at your reports. Even if you didn’t look up, you knew she was still standing there.

“Can I help you, sunbae?”

“I brought in visitors for you. Can you at least look at them?” She said and you finally lifted your head. Your eyes widened as you saw all 7 hybrids standing there. Suddenly, your office felt so crowded. Seeing you, Jimin immediately ran over to give you a big hug, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

“Hey, Chim. What are you guys doing here?” You asked, pulling away slightly and opting to stroke Jimin’s head instead.

“You said you end at 8. It’s 8:30.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time.” You facepalmed when you saw the clock. Indeed, you were half an hour late. Dr Yu came over and held your arms, making you stand up.

“Sunbae-”

“You made your hybrids wait long enough. Any longer and they might sue you for starving them. Your shift is over. No more work!” She closed your files.

“Alright, alright. I just need to hand these in to the nurses’ station and we can go.” You smiled and Dr Yu saluted to you. As she walked past your hybrids, they all bowed to her respectfully. You sighed and gathered your things. Files in one hand, the other holding Jimin’s, you headed to the nurses’ station. You knew that everyone was staring at your group.

“Wow, did the entourage get bigger?” Head nurse Park teased.

“This is Hoseok and Jungkook. They’re just staying with us for a while. This is Jimin.” You ruffled Jimin’s head. This time, he didn’t shy awake from strangers but his cheeks did turn pink.

“Hello.” Yoongi, Taehyung, Jin and Namjoon greeted the nurse with familiarity. She smiled at them as you sorted out your files on the counter.

“I’ll do the rest. Have a good night doctor. See you, boys.” Head nurse Park waved you off. You bowed to her and all of you walked to the van that the boys came in.

“Hoseok, Jungkook. These are for you.” You gave them their tags.

“Wow! Cool! Thanks!” Hoseok grinned, slipping his over his head. Jungkook stared at his for a few seconds before wordlessly putting his on. You sat in the passenger seat while Jin drove.

“Where are we eating?” Yoongi asked.

“How about some Korean beef?” You suggested. Judging by the loud cheers that erupted from everyone, Jin took that as the consensus and drove towards your family’s favourite Korean beef barbecue place. The restaurant gave your large group 2 grills to cook with.

“Here, Jungkook. I know you eat meat but prefer vegetables.” You handed Jungkook a bowl of stewed vegetables.

Jungkook was shocked that you noticed that. He generally went with the flow of just eating meat but being a bunny hybrid, he was still part herbivore and still preferred to eat more vegetables over meat.

“T-Thanks.” He mumbled.

“Eat up boys.” You began cooking the beef. You gave them out to the boys, who gobbled it up deliciously.

“You’re doing all the cooking and not even feeding yourself.” Yoongi held out a lettuce wrap to you. You smiled sheepishly, leaning forward to eat the wrap from his hand. The boys were all chatting happily during dinner. Even Jungkook lightened up and Jimin was able to comfortably participate in some of the conversations that took place.

“Do you work everyday, (y/n)?” Hoseok asked.

“Hmm... Not everyday... I mean my schedule is never the same. I do have my days off but sometimes, I can be called for 36 hours shifts or 20 hour shifts.” You explained.

“Isn’t it tiring?”

“It is but when you think of the cause, it doesn’t seem so tiring anymore. If I can use my skills to save as many hybrids as I can, I will. Even if I don’t get to sleep or eat.” You shrugged with a smile.

“Actually, Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin were my patients before they joined the family. But they only listened to me when I was their doctor.” You chuckled, nudging Yoongi, who was beside you. He rolled his eyes while Namjoon laughed and Jimin blushed.

“Why should I listen to a doctor that can’t even take care of her own health?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow and you scrunched your nose at him.

“Yah. Min Yoongi.” You threatened to put his tail on the grill.

“(y/n) allows Yoongi to speak to her like that?” Jungkook asked Taehyung, who nodded his head.

“(y/n)’s chill with these things. She hates formality and wanted everyone to be comfortable around each other. But that being said, her and Yoongi hyung... they’re the closest since he’s her first hybrid.” Taehyung explained.

“You all didn’t come together?”

“Nope. Yoongi hyung first. Then Jin hyung, followed by me. Once Namjoon hyung woke up from his coma, he joined. Lastly, we have Jimin then you two. But I guess since we met Hoseok hyung first... Hoseok hyung comes before you.” Taehyung grinned. Jungkook looked at the tiger.

“Well, we don’t count because we’re only here for the winter.” Jungkook snorted.

“I’m sure if after this winter, you want to stay longer, (y/n) will be more than happy to accept you and Hoseok hyung.” Taehyung said before turning to join Namjoon and Yoongi’s conversation.

“I have the morning off tomorrow. Shall we go to the fields?” You asked.

“The fields?”

“Kitten, no of them knows what and where the fields are except for Jin hyung and I. It’s been that long since we’ve been. Have you forgotten?” Yoongi ruffled your hair. You blushed, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment, remembering just how long ago it has been.

“The fields is this big open place for hybrids to go and run. They can mingle and meet other hybrids too. Basically, a hybrid park.” Jin explained and everyone nodded.

“Why haven’t you been in such a long time?” Namjoon asked.

“Because Jinnie wasn’t around and there’s no point bringing Yoongi. His lazy ass just sits there and sleeps or he sits next to me and sleeps. I guess with Taehyung and Namjoon coming, it’s just been hectic that it slipped my mind to bring you guys there. But I’m sure you’ll like it.” You smiled.

“Can I go, (y/n)?”

“Of course, you can, Chim. Whatever you feel comfortable with.” You patted his head. After dinner, you brought the boys for ice cream.

The boys all chose their flavours and of course, they each got two scoops. Jimin just blinked at all the different flavours through the glass, not even sure what this was.

“Haven’t you had ice cream before?” Hoseok tilted his head. Jimin shrunk back and shook his head in embarrassment.

“It’s okay! There’s a first time for everything. What do you want to try?” You held Jimin’s hand. He tried the flavours that appealed the most to him. In the end, he chose strawberry only. You took the cup from the shopkeeper and handed it to him with a ruffle of his head.

“What’s your favourite flavour?” Jimin asked you.

“Honey comb and cookies and cream.” You said. Your colleagues even teased you about adopting Yoongi and Jin as your hybrids because they remind you of cookies and cream ice cream.

“Here. Have some.” You held out your spoon to him. He leaned in for a cautious sniff before eating the ice cream off your spoon.

“It’s good.” Jimin’s eyes sparkled, making you laugh. Taehyung grinned as he took his ice cream cone, licking the cold treat and letting out purrs of happiness.

“Namjoon? Aren’t you going to have some ice cream?” You asked him. He shook his head and just continued looking out the window.

When you all arrived home, everyone split to their rooms. You couldn’t help but feel bothered by Namjoon’s sudden change in attitude. He was fine during dinner but at the ice cream parlour and during the drive home, he was oddly quiet and distanced. Slipping out of bed, you went out to see Namjoon’s door open. He wasn’t inside.

“Namjoon?” You whispered out. Namjoon stood in the backyard, his arms wrapped around himself. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice your presence.

“Namjoon?” You called. He jumped slightly and turned around.

“What are you doing awake? And why are you out here? It’s so cold and you’re only wearing a cardigan.” Namjoon stressed.

“Relax, Namjoon. I’m okay.” You placed a hand on his arm with a small smile. You sat down on the bench and patted the space beside you. Namjoon slowly plopped down.

“What’s wrong, Namjoon?”

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, looking away.

“It’s not nothing. You know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge. I want to be able to help you in any way that I can. If you don’t tell me, there’s no way I can help you, hmm?” You giggled. Just hearing your precious giggles made Namjoon seize up.

“(y/n), I think you’re my mate.” He said quickly, closing his eyes in a wince. He was afraid of your reaction.

“I see.” Was all you could say.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. Seeing Namjoon all shy made you feel like laughing but you didn’t want to embarrass him further. Holding his cheeks your hands, you made him face you. You leaned in a gave him a peck.

“Huh?” Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I can do that, right? Aren’t I your mate?” You teased.

“O-Of course! I just didn’t think you would accept me...” Namjoon coughed, his cheeks turning a darker red.

“Well, if you’re okay with Yoongi and Jin already claiming me as their mate too.” You laughed. That was the reason why Namjoon was afraid. Mates were a huge deal, especially to wolves like him. He knew that Yoongi and Jin have both claimed you as their mates and he assumed you wouldn’t want to have another hybrid mate.

“I’m fine with that if you are and they are.” Namjoon nuzzled your cheek.

“We did discuss the possibility of it.” You nodded.

“But you do know what happens what we become mates...” He trailed off. You nodded your head. Once you accept him as a mate, his heat will start to kick in.

“Namjoon, did you forget that I’m a doctor? I know my role as a mate. Yes, I do help Yoongi and Jin with their heat but some times when it gets too much for me, they try to take care of it on their own or learn to share.” Of course you would openly talk about that without any reservations.

“It’s only a natural thing. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” It was like you read Namjoon’s mind.

“You’re seriously such an amusing human.” He chuckled.

“If that’s your way of calling me weird. I’m going to start rethinking accepting you as my mate.” You poked his side.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you in first. I don’t want you getting sick.” Namjoon wrapped his arm around you and you nodded. He led you back into the house.

“(y/n)... Can you stay beside me tonight?” He squeezed your hands. You nodded again. As you laid down beside him, you yawned, making Namjoon chuckle. He pushed your hair away from your face.

“My mate, can I scent you?” Namjoon murmured. You hummed in reply, blushing slightly. Namjoon’s arms went to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he leaned into your neck. He let out soft growls and you giggled as you felt his hair tickle your jaw. You could hear his tail softly thump against the mattress. Your arms wound around him and you stroked the back of his head.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Namjoon, don’t thank me. You fought with your own will to live. That was all you.” You whispered.

“Yoongi told me everything. How you took over my surgery from that other doctor, how affected you were when you came home and how you kept checking up on me.” Namjoon confessed.

“Well, you deserved a fighting chance to live.” You giggled. Namjoon pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, my mate.” He said softly. Slowly, your eyes fluttered close and you fell asleep in his embrace. Finally, Namjoon felt like he could get a good night’s sleep as well.

“Hyung? Jin hyung?” Taehyung pawed at the oldest’s door in panic. Jin got up, poking his head out from behind the door, one eye opened. Taehyung thought of going to Yoongi but everyone knew that only you and Jin could wake Yoongi without getting mauled by the grumpy panther.

“What’s up Tae?” Jin yawned.

“(y/n) not in her room.” Taehyung whimpered. Hearing that woke Jin up. He followed the tiger to your room. Indeed, the door was open and it was empty.

“She’s not working until later today though.” Jin scratched his head. Your scent was still there, signalling that you were still in the house. Jin went to Yoongi’s room. Of course, Yoongi woke up immediately.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon came out.

“Do you, by any chance, know where (y/n) is? She’s not in her room, the kitchen, the backyard or the living room.” Yoongi asked.

“She-”

“Namjoon hyung smells like (y/n)!” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him. As Namjoon saw them approaching his door, he quickly jumped in front. Instinctively, he growled at them and they stepped back. Jin and Yoongi have seen this before. They were like this too when they first claimed you as their mate. The two smirked, looking at each other.

“Come on, Tae. It’s early and we should all sleep for a few more hours.” Yoongi pulled the tiger along with him.

“But (y/n)...” Taehyung pouted.

“He’s not gonna let you see her. For now, at least.” Jin smirked.

“Why?! He can’t hog (y/n)! She’s ours to share.” Taehyung whined. The two laughed but also knew that no amount of whining would make Namjoon let them through.

“Let’s go downstairs. I’ll explain it to you. (y/n) is okay, let Namjoon take care of her.” Jin pulled the younger downstairs.

You woke up a few hours later. After brushing your teeth in your room and changing, you headed downstairs to see the 7 hybrids gathered around the kitchen island. Yoongi was serving up the breakfast that he cooked. They all turned to you when you entered.

“Good morning.” You greeted.

“Morning.” Everyone replied. You missed the teasing smiles Yoongi and Jin were sending you as you grabbed your coffee.

“So, (y/n), when can I make you my mate?” Taehyung asked. Well, that led to you choking on your coffee and becoming a coughing mess, needing Jin to come and help you.

1K notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

Moments We Knew // Colin Bridgerton

Request: Hello! I’m so excited that you’re writing for Bridgerton and I was wondering if I could request a fic? Maybe one where Colin is courting the reader, what it would involve and their first kiss? Basically just some Colin fluff that’s too sweet :)) - anon

A/N: Oh this request is so sweet! Thank you so much for requesting! I can only hope I have done it justice. The other requests in my inbox will become my priority for next weekend!

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: female reader, courting, courtship, fluff, cute, mentions of food and drink, the British Museum is mentioned (I have to apologise for that lol), kissing, pining, instant love, love at first sight and all that jazz.

Word count: 4k

One:

“Miss (Y/L/N), would you do me the honour of saving me a spot on your dance card?”

Your eyes widen at his words, but you nod your head regardless, unable to deny the blue eyes and sweet face of Colin Bridgerton.

“I shall find you soon,” He promises before walking away, leaving you to question the last few minutes of your life.

You had spoken to the Bridgerton before; had dined in their company too, but you had never danced with one. It was to be something you would never forget, that was for certain.

Strolling around the ballroom, you truly did not hold much hope for tonight. Having been out in society for a few seasons now, you did not think there would be much interest tonight bar the Bridgerton who had kindly asked you to save him a dance.

Sighing softly, you reach the table covered with glasses of lemonade. Reaching for one, you eye the couples already taking to the floor for the first dance of the evening. Eager young hopefuls, all curious to know whether they would meet their love match tonight.

A flicker of excitement begins to stir as the music begins the couples start to twirl across the floor; the women’s skirt billowing out from under them as the men look every dashing in their suits. You think to Colin, wondering briefly where he is as you think of how it would be to dance with such a man.

“Did you save me that dance?” A voice asks from behind you.

Startling slightly, you only just manage to keep hold of your glass. “I have,” You reply, holding up your dance card where Colin’s name is written.

“Perfect,” He grins, “Shall we dance now?”

“Why not?” You answer, placing your glass down and taking his open hand.

Colin’s hand is soft as he places it on the small of your back, pulling you to him ever so slightly. Your hand rests on his shoulder whilst his free hand wraps around yours. Your skin tingles in all the places his hands rest; it’s an addictive feeling, you come to realise.

The band strikes up and the couples on the floor begin their dance. Colin begins to lead you with confidence; evidence of his upbringing alive in the way he directs his feet whilst holding you steady. Dance lessons were a must for all offspring of London society; it was not a gendered activity.

“How are you finding the evening?” Colin asks, leading you across the floor.

“Am I to be truthful?” You ask, smiling coyly at the brunette.

“I find that would be best,” Colin responds, his own sly smile written across his face.

“Then I shall have to say that I was rather bored until you asked me to dance. This is sure to be the highlight of my evening.”

Colin spins you out before replying. “How odd,” He murmurs quietly though you hear him perfectly over the band, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

A startled laugh leaves you at his words; one that Colin finds himself joining in with as he continues to lead you around the ballroom. Many couples watch on; curious to know what it is that has you both laughing and smiling the way that you are. You find yourself delighting in the act that you are to have a secret with the third eldest Bridgerton; a secret you could revisit whenever you wanted.

The dance comes to an end; the music rising for one last crescendo before falling silent. Stepping back from the Bridgerton, your chest rises heavily due to the pace of the music and the dance. You smile softly at Colin, “Thank you for the dance. It was wonderful.”

“Join me for one more?” He asks; his voice close to pleading as if he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, doesn’t want to see you walk away from him without knowing if he’ll ever see you again.

Your eyes wander over his face; finding the desperation in his eyes and noting that you feel the same way. You find yourself hating the idea of walking away from this man just yet; not just because of how much fun you had had when dancing with him, but because you feel that if you were to walk away from him in this very moment, you would be making a choice you would surely come to regret.

You take his hand; revelling in the way his fingers close around yours as he leads you to the dancefloor once more. Lining yourself up, you do not look away from his blue stare, finding yourself enraptured by him and more than happy to stay that way.

The music begins, and once more, you fall into step with your future.

Two:

Wandering into the drawing room, the previous night felt like a dream. The ache in your feet being the only sign that you had indeed danced the night away with the third eldest Bridgerton.

“Good morning, mother,” You greet, settling down at the small tea table.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” She asks; her eyes bright with happiness as she takes in the dazed look on your face, already away with the fairies.

“It was wonderful,” You sigh dreamily; remembering how Colin’s hands felt on the small of your back and how he listened to your every word. It felt too good to be true.

“I would not be surprised if he called on you this morning,” Your mother declares from her place by the window. She often sat there; her legs tucked underneath her as she worked on a new stitching pattern, read a new book or simply stared at the view.

“I do not want to get my hopes up,” You confess, fiddling with your fingers nervously. All night you had dreamed of the Bridgerton; his eyes and his smile, the sound of his laughter. If he chose not to call on you, your heart could surely not take it, not after so many seasons of disappointment.

Your mother smiles, “My dear, I feel it within my bones. He shall call on you this morning.”

“Thank you, mother,” You reply graciously before pouring a cup of tea; one for you and the other for your mother. “It looks to be a fine day,” You comment, making light conversation as you add sugar and a splash of milk to your own tea, stirring until you know it will be just the right temperature for you to drink without burning the roof of your mouth and your tongue.

Your mother hums from her place at the window, sipping delicately at her own tea. Suddenly, she sits straighter, her eyes and ears focusing on the streets below. “I do believe a carriage has just pulled up with the Bridgerton initial on its doors.”

“Mother, you jest.”

“I do no such thing,” She protests, stepping away from the window as she catches sight of the dark brunette hair of the Bridgerton boy.

“How do I look?” You worry, now taking your mother seriously, standing to smooth down the patterns of your dress. Already wishing that you had changed into something more fetching than your everyday wear.

Your mother sidles over to you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “You look lovely, my dear,” She promises before taking a seat on the nearby couch, knowing that the conversation that was to take place was to be between you and the Bridgerton boy.

Sitting back down, you know you only have mere minutes to collect yourself before Colin walks through the drawing room door. Mere minutes to stop the bouncing of your leg and the worrying of your mind. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, already confident in the knowledge that what you feel for Colin is far from platonic and after last night, you felt somewhat confident that he felt something for you too.

“Mr. Colin Bridgerton,” The butler announces to which you stand, barely repressing the urge to fist your hands into your skirts out of nerves.

Colin strides into the drawing room; his eyes scanning the room only for them to light up when they land on you. A large smile spreads across his face and he steps further into the room. “I apologise if I am interrupting anything,” He states politely.

“There was nothing to interrupt other than some tea. Please help yourself,” Your mother smiles from her place on the couch; her eyes dancing between the two of you – a good match is the conclusion she comes to as she takes in the flush of your skin and the smile on Colin’s face.

Colin turns to your mother, bringing out a bouquet of flowers he kept hidden behind his back. “These are for you, Mrs. (Y/L/N).”

Your mother’s eyes widen as she takes in the humble but sweet bouquet offered by the young man. “Thank you,” She states, “They are most unexpected but are very beautiful. I shall have to find a vase.”

“You’re welcome,” Colin responds before bringing out another bouquet. Turning his attention to you, he holds out the delicate collection of flowers. “These are for you,” He murmurs, a note of vulnerability shining through his usual confidence.

“Thank you,” You reply, voice awed at the sight of the gorgeous colours; reds, whites and yellows making up the bouquet, brightening the room instantly. “I shall find a vase for them soon.”

“I had a lot of fun last night,” Colin whispers, his voice loud enough for you but quiet enough that your mother only hears mumblings.

Smiling widely, you reply, “I had fun too. I’ve never enjoyed dancing that much.”

“Me neither,” Colin agrees, thinking back to how it felt to hold you in his arms. He knew after his second dance with you that if he was to have a future, you would surely play a part in it. “Would you accompany me to the British Museum tomorrow? There’s an exhibit being shown that I have been told we simply must not miss.”

Blinking twice, it doesn’t take you long to think of an answer. “I would love to. I’ve heard nothing but good things about the exhibit. It’s a collection of Greek and Roman sculptures and art.”

“I have a soft spot for History, but I have not been yet. I thought it would be perfect for us to go together.”

“I think it would be perfect for us to go together too,” You whisper, your heart beginning to race at the thought Colin has put into your first outing.

Colin smiles; the act lighting up his face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a golden stopwatch, frowning briefly at its face before slipping back to where it belongs. “I wish I could stay longer,” He laments, “But I promised my mother I would meet her this morning.”

“Go see your mother,” You smile, “I will get to see you tomorrow after all.”

Another smile at that has your heart beginning to sing. “Until tomorrow,” He promises, standing from his chair and reaching for your hand where he places a lingering kiss to the back of it. The very kiss itself holding many promises for the future that you could not wait to fulfil.

As the door closes behind the brunette, you let yourself fall back onto the chair with a smile gracing your face. Until tomorrow; you had to wait until tomorrow before seeing him once more.

Three:

The building loomed large as you tightened your grip on Colin’s arm. Your stomach a ball of nerves as you think of what this means; your very first outing together as a prospective couple. Things needed to run smoothly; you needed to calm yourself down.

Taking a deep breath, you hasten your steps to keep up with Colin’s long strides. He had been so excited on the carriage ride over; babbling about the latest exhibit on show for the masses. Whilst History was a subject you adored when in education, it was not something you had kept up since coming out as a debutante.

Whilst the art is spectacular, it is the sculptures that ultimately take your breath away. Strolling through the main hall, you cannot help but be completely taken in by the attention to detail of such creations and the very fact that they have managed to survive hundreds of years with minimal damage.

“They’re beautiful, are they not?” Colin asks.

“They’re stunning.”

“My older brother, Benedict, suggested this to me. He’s the artist in the family but knows of my love of history.”

“He sounds like a wonderful big brother,” You murmur, finding it hard to tear your attention away from the pieces of work.

“How are you finding it? Are you enjoying yourself?” Colin asks, his voice close to your ear.

“I am. It’s spectacular. It makes me wish I had continued my study into the subject.”

“You like History?”

“Very much so,” You smile, “My father used to sit me on his lap and tell me stories of the past.”

“Mine would do the same,” Colin murmurs quietly, remembering his youth with his father. How he would sit on the floor by his father’s feet and listen for hours about not only his father’s life but the creation of the country in which they live and its many countless invasions.

“How are you finding it?” You ask, bringing him back to the present. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am, but I have to admit it is more the company than the art work, no matter how stunning.”

“Colin!” You gasp, smiling widely, “You are a flatterer.”

He laughs; the sound reverberating off the marble sculptures and walls. “Only for you,” He admits when he calms down. “Only for you.”

His words bring a smile to your face, setting your heart racing in your chest. He could undo you with so few words; it was a miracle you were still standing.

The rest of the exhibit is much of the same; breathtaking sculptures and happy conversation with Colin. He doesn’t enjoy too much silence; rather, he asks you all sorts of questions about your childhood and your life in London. In kind, you ask him of his life and the travelling he did in his late teens/early twenties.

You find that not only is he kind and sweet, he is incredibly knowledgeable of not only life in England, but life and society in other countries. He speaks fondly of his time abroad, but as he regales you of tales of his travels, Colin finds no burning desire to travel abroad again. Instead, as he stares down at you, he finds that you rather hold everything he could need for the future.

It’s then that Colin decides he’s found what he needs for the rest of his life, and he’s found it in you. He supposes he should be laughed at; finding love so quickly, but it just feels right. Everything about you feels so perfectly right for him that he does not see the need to fight it.

He finds himself trying to fight the want to propose then and there. Instead, Colin hooks your arm through his as he leads you from the museum. Like a gentleman, he helps you into the carriage before joining you himself.

“Thank you,” You comment as the carriage sets off.

“Whatever for?” Colin asks, curious to what you should be thanking him for.

“For taking me to exhibit.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” He responds honestly. It was; the pleasure of the afternoon was entirely his because you brought out a side of him that he had never met before but found he rather liked. Colin had always been a man of the moment; rushing through his life so he could get to the next exciting part as quickly as possible. However, with you, he finds that he has no need to rush or to hurry. He finds himself excited for the journey he wants to take with you, and thanks his lucky stars that you saved a dance for him on your card.

The carriage soon rolls to a stop outside your home. Gathering yourself, you smile wistfully at the brunette who has so quickly made his home in your heart.

“Thank you for a wonderful morning and afternoon,” You state as you step down from the carriage with the help of your footman.

“Wait!” Colin calls, rushing out of the carriage, “Will you be at the picnic later this week?”

“I will,” You answer, excitement bubbling inside of you, “Will I see you there?”

Colin nods, “I was hoping you would want to promenade with me.”

“I would love to.”

From there, Colin leaves you with yet another kiss on your hand. As he walks away, you begin to wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against yours; what would he feel like, what would he taste like. The thoughts swirl around your mind for so long that you do not hear your mother call you to the drawing room. Instead, you wander to your bedroom where such thoughts plague you for the rest of the day and night.

Four:

Each season the richest families in London society gather together for a picnic in the park. To outsiders, it is a display of their money, of their status in society. To mothers, it is another opportunity for their daughters to be showcased to the many eligible men who flock to the families in need of a wife or perhaps, some free food.

Your mother and you had been invited by the Bridgertons; an excuse by their matriarch to better get to know you and your mother. Violet welcomes you both with a warm smile, asking you to sit and drink tea.

“How are you?” Violet asks, reaching for one of the many biscuits.

“I’m well, Lady Bridgerton. And yourself?” You reply, wanting nothing more than to be accepted by the mother of the man who had caught your attention so readily.

“I’m very well, dear,” Violet answers, soon falling into conversation with your mother.

You’re distracted by the sight of Colin playing with his youngest siblings; a hoop game that leaves them all laughing loudly when the hoop is dropped on the floor, rolling away from them with great speed. There doesn’t seem to be any logic to the game other than pure enjoyment when Colin suddenly looks up, as if he sensed your eyes on him.

It’s as if everything else melts away as your eyes meet. For you, there was only him. There was no sound; no distractions – just Colin and the smile of his handsome face.

“I think they will work well together,” Your mother admits to Colin’s, glancing between the soft look on your face and the happy smile on Colin’s.

Violet hums her agreement, catching sight of the way Colin’s eyes light up when he notices you sat with his family. Gregory soon pulls his brother’s attention back to him, but Violet doesn’t miss the glances he throws in your direction every chance he gets. Yes, Violet thinks to herself, you would match very nicely.

Laughter rains all around you as you continue to sit with the Bridgerton family; now having been introduced to its matriarch but also to Anthony, its head. A kind man and very devoted to his family; you felt welcomed by his smile and happy to find that he already knew of you.

Stealing a glance at the sky, you sigh in relief when you see that the fine weather was going to hold and that the picnic was going very well. A shadow crossing your eyeline has you frowning in distaste, but your frown doesn’t last long when you find that it is Colin standing over you.

“Shall we go on a walk?”

One:

Taking his outstretched hand, Colin begins to lead you down the winding paths of park, away from your families.

“Colin,” You laugh, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” He laughs, holding onto your hand tighter as he pulls you round a corner.

“Surely you can give me a little hint,” You plead, curiosity beginning to get the better of you.

Colin shakes his head; an infuriatingly handsome smile on his face as he remains quiet about exactly where he is leading you. At this point, the both of you have wandered away from your families and the rest of London society. Instead, you walk through a quieter section of the park, one where paths are travelled but are not often frequented. Despite the nerves rattling your gut, you feel completely safe in Colin’s presence.

“I wanted to steal you away for a little while,” Colin says, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Steal me away?”

He nods; his grip on your hand tightening. “There were so many eyes watching us; my family and your family. Did you not feel even a little suffocated?”

Thinking back to the picnic and the shared looks between your mother and Colin’s, you would happily admit that you did start to feel the strain of their expectations. “I did start to feel our parent’s gaze,” You confess.

“Exactly. At least here we can be honest with one another without the pressure of our beloved mothers.”

“Honest?”

Colin nods, “Honest about what we feel.”

“What do you feel?”

“I see a future with you,” He admits, “I know that we have only begun courting, but I truly see it all with you. Do you see the same thing?”

“I see it all,” You confess, your voice hoarse with unspoken emotion.

“You do?”

Nodding your head, you answer, “I do. I see everything with you. When you left after we visited the museum, it took everything in me not to chase you down to ask you to stay.”

“I didn’t want to go,” He whispers, “I wanted to stay. I knew then.”

Through the confessions uttered by both parties, you have made your way closer to the gentleman. Your hands remain tangled by your sides; Colin’s fingers fitting comfortably with yours as he smiles softly down at you. His free hand raises slightly, brushes through the strands of hair that became loose on your quick getaway from your families. His eyes beg a silent question; the question that has bene on your mind since he left you on your doorstep last week.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks; verbalising his thoughts, handing you the power.

You just finish uttering your consent when Colin’s lips find yours, pressing against them softly. Taken by surprise, you gasp into the kiss but soon find your rhythm. You drop Colin’s hand so you can wind your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer to you to feel him pressed so tight against you. Your fingers run through the ends of his hair, only briefly noting its softness before letting yourself fall further into him.

Colin groans softly into the kiss; finally knowing what it is that you taste like – sugar and the tea you recently drank. A combination that only leaves him wanting more as his hands settle on the small of your back, gathering you against him as he tries to repress the urge to take more, more, more. It’s everything all at once; it’s overwhelming but it still doesn’t feel enough. Not as Colin takes control, not as his hands tighten on your waist, and not as you whimper softly.

Breathless and dazed, you pull away from Colin. His chest heaves as he keeps his grip on your waist, not wanting to step further from him. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath dancing over your lips as you try to catch your own. Slowly, a smile breaks over your faces and laughter begins to spill from your lips.

It doesn’t make sense; it doesn’t have to. It’s simply the beginning of your futures.

*******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

My taglist is still open! Drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

#colin bridgerton x reader #colin x reader #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagines

389 notes · View notes

bluegarners · 3 years

Text

Dick realizes he’s forgetting his childhood.

~oOo~

It hits him one day. It hits him hard.

In reality, it must have been a gradual thing. An overtime thing. A steady decline thing that he just didn’t notice, like rain on eroding rocks. Chipping, chipping, chipping away and weathering it down into pebbles.

But when he stops to actually look around, takes a moment to really think, it hits Dick hard. The wind knocked out of him, train plowing into him, upper cut to the jaw, mind reeling hard.

He can’t remember what his mom’s voice sounded like.

He remembers the old song she used to hum to him, can still dredge up the melody if he really tries, but he can’t remember what she sounded like. He’s almost sure she had a beautiful voice. Almost sure it was breathy and lower in pitch because she was a proud woman that used her voice for authority and rule. Sometimes, if he sits down and thinks exceptionally hard, he thinks even his father might’ve sung with her too.

Oh. Another thing.

He can’t remember the name of the cologne his father used.

It was something spicy, Dick’s sure. Something spicy that smelled like a mix of all the worlds best fireplaces and cinnamon sticks. It was warm, Dick’s positive of it, but sometimes he catches a whiff of vanilla and his mind goes back to his father on Sunday evenings when they didn’t have a performance, so maybe the cologne wasn’t spicy and Dick is just forgetting and remembering it all wrong.

That’s terrifying. How can he forget something as unique and special as his own mother’s voice or his father’s scent? What kind of son forgets something so pertinent to their parents?

He’s read articles about trauma messing with memories. Something about stress hormones going into overdrive, infecting and plaguing the fear factor and hippocampus that the brain just doesn’t recall anything. But he’s also read articles that say trauma enhances memory, that the adrenaline is just so prolific that it literally encodes the events permanently into the hippocampus rather than erase.

He’s even read articles that victims of childhood trauma lose their innocent past completely in a blink. That they may even believe the events never happened and it was all just a dream.

But Dick knows he had parents. He knows that his father was a happy man, outgoing to the fullest and in love with life. He knows his mother made delicious pancakes straight out of the box and that she always used real maple syrup instead of Log Cabin. He knows that they were all very close and his parents never made him feel ashamed for being clingy or wanting to sleep in their bed after a nightmare or seeking comfort after yet another failed trick or flip.

Dick knows. He remembers.

But sometimes the details get fuzzy. Was his baby blanket, the one he knows his long dead nana stitched for him, blue or gray? Were there two rooms or just a bed and a couch in their tiny trailer? Did Pop Haly boom or rumble with laughter? He knows these things happened. How else would he even know he had a blanket or a trailer or the comfort of loud laughter during even louder performances?

But for all his remembrance, for all his recollection, he doesn’t know if it’s real. If what he thinks are memories are but fond daydreams substituted for the blank spaces. He doesn’t have many pictures, but he’s got so many posters from Haly’s Circus. Enough so that his father’s face will never be confused with some stranger’s on the street. Dick has stared at all the bright colors for hours on end, and he knows exactly what shade of green his mother’s eyes were. He could pick out their colors in a forest and still know it wouldn’t be as close to what his mother’s eyes were like.

He knows faces. He remembers faces. He doesn’t remember who they were though. Who these people were and what they sounded and smelled like. What stories they shared. What family lineage they held.

He doesn’t remember what routine they were doing that night. He thinks it was a daring one, one they hadn’t done many times before hand because they wanted to make a good impression in Gotham. They were only going to be there for a month, Dick remembers that, but he can’t remember why it was so important to impress.

He was up next. His father had just flung his mother into the air, twirling and falling, and then his father had caught her by the ankles and they were swinging through the air as if they had grown wings and learnt how to fly.

He was up next. Only nine. Nervous but excited. There were so many people in the crowd, but he can only picture a massive blob. Bright lights. His mother’s face. Green eyes. His father’s strong shoulders. Cinnamon carrying in the wind.

He was up next. He would leap out, flip twice, and somersault his way into his mother’s awaiting grasp. Then, they would float and trade off holds with one another and Dick would be the one holding his mother’s ankles and he would be upside down as well and then-

He was up next. He was up next and he could see his mother’s bright smile beaming towards him, his father’s reassuring grip on the bar steady, and Dick was tensing to make the leap and then-

The line snapped.

Dick thinks his mother might’ve called out to him as they plummeted. Maybe a cry for help. A startled yell. A gasp. A shriek. Terror.

Dick likes to think he remembered her calling out his name.

He doesn’t know if what he does remember is true or not; if his parents’ bodies actually crumpled like wet paper or if they snapped like dry wood. He remembers their descent, but maybe not, because Graysons were known for flying but his parents fell like they had weights tied to their legs. Sound escaped him, smell too, and maybe that’s his problem. Maybe he just can’t remember important senses like sound and scent, but he does remember the way the sawdust turned black.

They had all worn their favorite leotards that night. Red, green, yellow, bright and happy. He doesn’t remember why it was so important to impress Gotham. It just stained their uniforms anyway. Stained their livelihood.

He doesn’t remember how long he stayed up there, gazing down down down at his parents. Broken and bloody. There was white mixed in with the red, and a little bit of purple here and there, bright splotches of blue and pink, and it’s funny that he remembers all that because their leotards only had three colors.

He blanks on the rest. Just knows that Danny Poteet shoved his face into his shoulder as the crowd disappeared, the mass of blobs and blurry faces fading. Mister Poteet was a nice man. He can’t remember what Poteet did, what his act was in the circus, but he’s pretty sure he had a long beard. Was that important? Was that even his name? Dick doesn’t remember.

And it angers him to no end that he can remember the organs that split their way through his parents leos, can probably name them now that he’s older, but not what his mother said to him as she fell. Not what his dad smelled like. Not what Danny Poteet mumbled to him as red and blue lights filled the tent.

He’s forgetting. Did he ever remember?

He wants to tell stories of his childhood. So badly wants to regale his brothers of his days in the circus. He can tell them all the working secrets of how twenty clowns fit inside a car meant for a baby. How fire breathers drank oil without it ever touching their tongues. How the strong man was actually just a pillow lifter with down in his suit. How strong and fast and beautiful the Flying Graysons were on the trapeze.

He can tell all those things because they were simple and everyday and honestly common knowledge (which also scares Dick because what if he only “remembers” these things because he looked them up one day and just pretended that he always knew it because that’s how he grew up, that is how he lived, but what if he’s wrong-). More than anything though, Dick wants to tell them about his parents.

About Mary and John Grayson and how they were the kindest and most amazing people Dick ever knew. But he can’t. Not without lying, and his parents hated liars (he hopes they did, please, he hopes he remembers at least one truthful thing that he hasn’t made up).

So when Tim looks at him like he’s lost his mind when he says, “I think my dad smelled spicy,” or when Jason laughs at him when Dick tries to tell him about this baby elephant that might’ve existed at some point or when Damian only sighs when he tries to recall a story with so many holes and fragments that it’s just incomprehensible, Dick feels like crying.

How can someone just forget a lifetime of memories? How can he just lose the only connections he has to his parents like it’s nothing?

Posters only go so far. Faded and hazy dreams of a melody that won’t leave his throat only do so much. Wisps of vanilla and burnt wood only taper the feelings of loss ever so slightly.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

He’s forgotten. He’s forgotten.

241 notes · View notes

annie-mit-ie · 3 years

Text

Glimpses: Part 6 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The Garden

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Hello there and sorry for the long wait! I wanted to move even further in the story but since this part already has 2.5k, I felt like it would be okay for me to end it here and continue with a new one tomorrow (that I plan to post within the next 2 days). It’s 2.40am, so, as always, if you find any mistakes - keep them :)

_____________________________________________________________________________

You stare at you screen, mouth gasping wide open. Other than breathing, you don’t feel like you are capable of doing anything at all. Your phone shuts off again and you see yourself in the reflection of the now black screen, a look of disbelief plastered all across your face.

You look at the picture again and admire the breakfast contents for a short while before laying the phone aside to think of a proper response. People always say that you are supposed to wait for a little while, stay mysterious, seem unavailable. But thats just not who you are. She is thinking about you.

Just last week you had read an article about this phenomena and it being a new, additional love language. „This made me think of you“ is apparently the new way of telling someone you like them. Just as that thought crosses your head, you remember Alex is probably still on her phone right now and you should hit her with the news and figure out a good response together. She picks up the call immediately.

“Sweetheart!“ She greets you with a beaming smile, as always. “What’s up?“

“She texted.“ You say and wait for her response.

“Who?“, god, you can’t with this girl sometimes. Why is she so slow? “KATHRYN. She finally texted me!“ You exclaim in excitement, a little too loud.

Alex looks at you with wide eyes, frowning, as she scrunches up her nose trying to comprehend what you just said. “Oh… Ooooh. OH.“

“Exactly…“, you say and smile about her antics. “What are we gonna do now? You gotta tell me because I certainly don’t know!!“

Alex shakes her head. “Well, first of all, you gotta let me know what exactly she said in her message?“

She was right, you totally forgot, putting her on hold, you take a screenshot and shoot it her way. “It’s actually nothing special but somehow it’s very cute at the same time and I really need us to find the BEST response to that.“

The next few minutes consist of Alex pitching short puns to you, cute phrases and just simple acknowledgements, but nothing seems to fit. Especially since you yourself haven’t decided yet if you wanna start of flirty or not. You end up choosing the safest option and type „This looks beautiful! Hope you enjoy! xx Y/N.“ as a response. You aren’t quite please with it but, at the same time, you don’t wanna rush into things as long as you don’t know what was happening.

For a few minutes, you talk to Alex and ask her about her day and all, until she has to pick up dinner for her people - it’s Thursday after all and Thursday nights are family nights. She hits you with a “Go get her, tiger!“ and laughs at your face before she hangs up the phone.

Not expecting a reply from Kathryn anytime soon, you toss your phone on the sheets and lie down on your back to look at the ceiling that is plastered in those fluorescent stick on glow stars - a childhood sin. Just as you are about to close your eyes, the phone lights up again.

“Thanks :-) Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. Lot’s of work related stress. You wanna come over and have a glass of wine in my garden on Saturday.“

Saturday… What was Saturday? You know very well Kathryn has an event going on this Saturday, but maybe you were just wrong. Excited you shoot her a quick response, letting her know it’s all fine and that, of course, you would like to see her again.

Unsure if it is a date or a casual hang out, you decide to already start planning an outfit in your head - just in case it is a date after all - as you walk downstairs to join your mom for lunch.

Saturday morning went by way too slowly as you sort through the possible outfits you came up with. You had yelled at Alex right after having lunch with your mom and the both of you shot outfit ideas back and forth all Friday before you sat down and watched The Goonies with your mom. It’s one of your comfort movies and you were really glad your mom chose it because that meant you didn’t have to concentrate on something new.

She still doesn’t know about the „you and Kathryn“, but not because you don’t trust her enough or anything. No, simply because you don’t know what exactly is happening - so why worry her? The whole situation is weird to talk about with Alex, why would you make it worse by including your mom.

Still, you decided to not lie to her and actually told her that you’ve recently met someone new and you are spending at least Saturday with her. It felt only fair to let her know. Your mother was smart enough not to ask any further questions, though. Maybe she realized that it was still a touchy topic for you - who knows.

You finally decide on what to wear and put on your favorite summer dress. It’s black, flow-y and has sun flowers all over. You don’t really know how long you’ll stay, so you pick out the blazer Kathryn loved last weekend, as well. Sighting, you find your way to the bathroom where you loosely tame your hair and put on some light make up. Just like last time you’re going for casual but not too casual. You look at yourself and smile. This dress really does make you feel beautiful!

A notification chimes through the room - it’s Alex reminding you that it’s about time to go outside so Kathryn’s driver can pick you up. You really didn’t want to have him drive you, but she insisted and since you were invited over for wine anyway, it really didn’t make any sense to take your car in the first place - especially since you’ll have to get home somehow, preferably tonight.

The driver is already there as you leave the house after kissing your mom on the cheek as you passed her on your way through he kitchen. “Good Afternoon, Miss Y/LN“, he greets you politely, as you take a seat in the back of the car.

The ride isn’t too long and you swore to yourself you would pay attention where you were going but the nervousness took over and so you’re spending the time on your phone, texting Alex and making sure your make up is okay and your hair is nicely framing your face.

Kathryn’s driver looks at you through the rear mirror: “Your first time over at Kathryn’s, hm?“

You look up and your eyes meet for a short second as you nod. “Don’t be intimidated by her. She is the nicest person I’ve ever worked for. You’re gonna love her.“ If only he knew. It actually makes you feel better, though. You don’t want to admit it, but you are very much intimidated by Kathryn and can’t wait for the first nervousness to wash down once again.

As you drive up to the house, it looks exactly like what you expected it to look like, while, at the same time, it looks completely different. She lives in the Hollywood Hills, but not where all the famous pop stars live. Her house is surrounded by plants. It looks calm, secure even and not at all like an actress lives in it. The yellow walls are welcoming and warm and the lack of modern architecture is balm for your soul.

The driver offers to open the door for you but you decline and, right as you step out of the car, the front door opens. Kathryn looks at you with the happiest face and opens her arms video to wrap you up in a big hug. “Y/N! I’m so glad you made it! Welcome!“

She looks at her driver. “Thank you for bringing her, Peter! I’ll see you later. Agnes will let you know when we have to leave, please take some time to yourself until then.“ Peter nods and starts the engine.

You look at Kathryn. Her eyelashes are highlighted by the slightest hint of mascara while the rest of her face appears to be completely natural. She is so beautiful. You’re close enough to her to be able to tell she is indeed not wearing any make up. Her hair is halfway up, flowing over her shoulders, and she is wearing a beautiful orange blouse, similar to one she had worn in one of her shows before, combined with blue jeans.

Even as you turn around, her lips don't lose their smile and she puts a hand on your lower back as she leads you into the house. You enter a long hallways that leads straight into a beautiful garden, much bigger than what you had expected. In one corner, there is a seating arrangement consisting of a seemingly quite comfortable corner couch and a wooden table. The rest of the garden is open and full of bushes and trees and you can’t even tell where it ends. A wine bottle in an ice bucket is already waiting for you, accompanied by two glasses, one on each side of the couch. “I like your dress, Y/N.“ Your breath hitches since a compliment was the last thing you would’ve expected.

“Thank you!“, you say with a bright smile, as you blush slightly which doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

She winks at you, “Always, hon.“

Right as you are seated and she gets comfortable on the couch after filling your glasses, the door to the garden opens and a woman with long red hair dressed in all black, who is wearing a headset as she is holding a clipboard, walks towards the table. Her hair, loosely braided and tossed over one shoulder, is decorated by a pair of big sunglasses that are sitting on top of her head. She looks stressed as she looks up from her clipboard.

“Kathryn! I am sorry to interrupt, but I just need to let you know stylists are gonna be here in maximum three hours. You have to eat something before that.” Looking at the wine on the table, she adds: “Do you want me to order pizza or anything for you guys?“

You look back and forth between the two of them as you are trying to figure out who that woman is and what exactly they are talking about. Kathryn nods to every word that’s being said, completely focused on the woman. “Yes, Agnes, you’re right. Thank you. Please order the usual, we will share.“

She shoots you a smile. “You trust me?“ You nod eagerly, and you mean it, even though you are quite picky when it comes to food. Agnes looks at you and back to Kathryn before excusing herself with a polite smile. “Three hours, Kathryn, MAX.“

“Oh SHUSH.“, Kathryn laughs wholeheartedly as she picks up her glass of wine, prompting you to pick up yours as well. “Let me say something: I am very glad you accepted today’s invitation and I am sorry it’s gonna be stressful, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it and you’ll have a great time.“

You look at her confused. “Great… time?“ Obviously you would be having a great time while hanging with Kathryn, but the way she phrases it sounds like something other than sitting in the garden is happening.

“Did I… not tell you?“ Kathryn sets down her drink and scans you with worried eyes.

Your stomach drops for a moment as you shake your head slowly. “Oh silly me! Listen, I have been so busy ever since we’ve met. I got cast for a new movie had to meet with different producers all week and then they told me to attend the awards this weekend, which I thought were only held digitally and I must have totally forgotten to let you know that that was a thing. Agnes and Jennifer do a really good job at organizing things for me, but sometimes“, she taps her head, “this old friend is not doing it anymore.“

She looks really sorry and you have to admit you are very stressed right now and actually you feel like you might panic any moment, but just as you are about to worry too much, she places a hand on your forearm. “I would very much enjoy just spending three hours with you while I enjoy what was supposed to be my day off, but I would also like to take you to these MTV movie awards with me tonight, I you want to tag along.“

You are flashed by the offer and immediately want to say yes, but remember what you are wearing. “But… Kathryn.. I can’t go looking like THIS.“ She looks you up and down, her hand still placed on your arm, and you just know she wants to tell you again that you are beautiful, you can see it in her eyes, in the way she smiles at you. She doesn’t though and that makes you doubt that this could ever be more than just a hangout.

Your thoughts are immediately washed away, as a warm smile is playing around her lips. “Don’t worry about that, dear. After you told me that you are in the middle of your studies and you live alone with your mom, I figured fancy evening wear might not be something that you have currently lying around just like that. So.. we figured something out for you as well.“

She moves her hand over your arm and takes your hand in hers. “You don’t have to come, though, if you don’t feel like it. Don’t worry! I didn’t buy anything. I borrowed them from one of those fancy shops.“ - she didn’t. But you don’t need to know that.

Even though the thought of attending an event like that gives you anxiety, you already know what you want to do and softly squeeze her hand as you nod while a small smile creeps onto your face. “I would love to, Kathryn! Thank you for inviting me.“

It’s time to let go of her hand, but she doesn’t seem like she wants the connection to stop just yet, so, obviously, you don’t end it, either. Instead, you lock eyes with her and stay in position for as long as she allows you to. You don’t know how much time has passed until you catch yourself as your eyes dart down to her lips after she sticked her tongue out for a split second to moisten them.

For a short moment, you feel like Kathryn is getting nervous but this can’t be, can it? To loosen the tension that has built up, you laugh and let go of her hand to grab your drink again. “Let’s raise these glasses to a great night, shall we?“

She joins in and locks eyes with you once again, a sheepish grin on her face, while she slightly raises one of her eyebrows. “Well… I’m certainly glad you’re here with me tonight.“

#Kathryn Hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #Kathryn Hahn fan fiction #Kathryn Hahn x You #groupie #Groupie Au

96 notes · View notes