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sailoryooons · 1 year

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Break | ksj (m)

☾ Pairing: Witch!Seokjin x cursed!reader

☾ Summary: Seokjin has been at your side for the last few years. He’s your closest friend, and the one person you don’t think you can live without. But what happens when you discover that he might be the source of the curse he’s been trying to help you escape from?

☾ Word Count: 18,990

☾ Genre: Supernatural, smut, angst

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Death and implied accidental murder of a sibling, childhood trauma, creepy vibes, heavy angst, a lot of internal monologue featuring angst, physical and verbal abuse from members of the town toward reader, sometimes confusing mentions of magic systems, explicit language, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), rough fucking from behind, dom/sub dynamics if you rEALLY squint, subspace/blacking out post sex, unhappy and ambiguous ending!!!!!!

☾ Published: May 22, 2023

☾ A/N: Hi hello this is one of the most random things I’ve ever written. I made a last minute choice to nosedive into this fic at the last second, which was certainly a choice. While it’s not my favorite work because of how hard I struggle to write it, I have a feel people are going to like it regardless and I shouldn’t be so hard on myself about it. Once again, Hali writes way too much for a small project and doesn’t even dip into the lore the way she wanted to! Thank you to @here2bbtstrash who was the amazing beta on this and fixed easily over 200 errors that I made while rush typing this. I handed this over unedited and unread from myself and they put this through the wash to have it in tiptop shape!

❀ A/N 2: M created their own Little Hut rhyme and I have opted to feature it here for reader’s enjoyment:

Little hut, little hut

Killer dick game

Little hut, little hut

All men is the same

Little hut, little hut,

Murdered your twin

Little hut, little hut

Time to fuck Jin

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | A Spring Offering Collab

Seokjin is good at holding grudges. Even as a child, his mother always said he had a tough time letting things go. He never knew how right she would be. His mother’s words are all he can think about as he storms through the dark of the forest, shadows whispering about him as he looks for the lone hut in the very dark of the woods.

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

If his parents could see him now, he knows they would be broken. Tear-streaked and shaking, a lost boy alone in the woods and drowning in anger so hot that the ground scorches beneath his feet. Looking for a salve. Looking for vengeance.

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Blood witches are dangerous. Seokjin knows this, everyone knows this. A blood witch is the reason why his parents are dead and he is storming through the darkness in the throes of madness. But Seokjin is only thirteen and full of pain and desperation, vowing to never let something happen like this again. If he has to use a devil to defeat a devil, he will.

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

A dark stream wends its way through the trees. Seokjin gets a running start and jumps across the whispering waters. When he lands on the other side, he waits. It took a lot of searching to find someone to tell him how to find the witch in the woods. No one comes here, especially not in the dead of night on Beltane.

They say only evil comes from the little hut in the woods. Seokjin knows now that it isn’t true. Evil comes from anywhere and everywhere, even from the people that one least expects. Evil killed his parents. Evil is why he is alone, crying on the edge of the stream, waiting for the sound of a banshee's call.

He hears it then. A one-note wail, thin and high-pitched. His blood goes cold and the fight in him nearly goes out at the sound. His heart begins to pound so loud that it’s all he can hear, the thundering beat of panic and terror as he realizes what he’s about to do.

��Little hut, little hut,” a voice that he cannot see calls to him. There is no hut that Seokjin can see. Only omnipresent darkness, cloying the air in front of him. A tingle skitters over his arms and he becomes acutely aware of another presence there with him in the dark. “I call to thee. Little hut, little hut, come to me.”

Seokjin blinks rapidly a few times and sees the outline of a hut in front of him. It has a blurry shape like it’s really the idea of a house. It’s so shadowed and opaque that he’s not entirely sure if it’s really there. He walks toward it anyway, one foot in front of the other, looking at the hut.

If a home could be a phantom, he thinks this is what the hut is. There is a vibrational pull here, a dull buzz in his veins as he gets closer and closer to where the blood witch lives. His stomach turns and his instincts beg him to leave. There is evil in this place. He knows it. Can feel its oily presence like a poisonous slick in his veins.

A door - or rather what he imagines is a door shape - stands open in the hut. Inside is eternal darkness like Seokjin has never seen before. The buzzing in his veins has become stronger, an itch he can’t scratch. A ringing in his ears.

Sometimes to beat evil, you must use evil. So Seokjin steps into the house despite all the reasons he should turn around and run. Because he is alone, he is in pain, and he needs some sort of penance. Justice.

So he asks the blood witch for a favor.

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

When the rock hits you right at the top of your spine, you know it isn’t an accident. All the same, you spin on your heel and look at the edge of the lake where the kids are skipping stones. They squeal and look away from you, huddled together as they giggle and look over their shoulders with frantic and excited faces.

You clench your fists and keep going. What can you do to a group of kids? Tossing them into the lake while you’re an adult seems unfair, though it certainly crosses your mind. It isn’t necessarily their fault that they were taught to have such hate in their hearts at a young age, after all.

So, you keep going, grinding your teeth as you march up the slope toward the main pathway that cuts through the park, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you quicken your strides to put distance between you and the cackling children. You’re not positive they won’t throw another rock at you, and you think that it might send you over the edge.

Early preparation for the Beltane festival is in full swing all over the park. There are trucks unloading carts and piecing together stalls, vendors and contractors with clipboards walking through spray painted grass with city officials, and a giant maypole waiting to be constructed.

Living in a town of witchy folk can be fun, you suppose. The only downside is that most of the witches in your town despise you and think you’re an abhorrent blight to the earth. If killing and sacrifices hadn’t been outdated and frowned upon, you’re sure they would have stuck you to an altar as a child the first time you showed signs of being a leech.

Leech.

It’s an unkind thing to call witches who siphon magic. It isn’t something you can control - it isn’t even something you were born with. Most witches who siphon magic are born that way. A sort of magical defect in the way they interact naturally with the world.

Most think of siphoners as a plague to the witch community. Thieves and monsters who can only feed on magic to make magic, a perversion of the natural balance of things. The way you look at it, witches who siphoned aren’t really any different from the natural order of the world. All living things need an energy source: food for animals, sun for plants, bacteria for amoebas. It isn’t different, really.

Perhaps you would not be so kind to leeches, though, had you not began your existence as a siphoner at thirteen years old.

It isn’t a night that you enjoy remembering, but it is certainly a night you can’t seem to forget. One moment you could command your magic like most other witches. Most, because you were a blood witch with raw talent and a powerful relationship with the earth’s energy.

Blood witches were as revered as they were feared, witches who needed no spells. Who could use the magic within them instead of their connection with the earth to conjure. To blood witches, all other witches were leeches, really. You didn’t tell that to your coven, though you thought about the irony often.

Your blood magic had vanished, though. It happened while you lay asleep in your bed, pressed up against your twin sister. Twins were a special thing in covens, a rarity in the magical order of the world that was seen as a good omen. There was a connection you shared with her deeper than the connection to your own magic, a bond that rooted the two of you together. That made you seek one another out for comfort.

It had been storming that night and you had sought out the warmth of her bed and the vanilla sugar of her hair to soothe your nerves. You didn’t like storms and thunder very much, but she was wide awake in her bed, watching out the window as purple lighting cracked across the sky and thunder shook the house.

You’d slipped into her bed without a word and she stood guardian over you, hand tucked in yours as she watched the sky light up. You remember her laying down next to you after the storm passed. The warmth of her breath on your cheek as she fell asleep. The hum between the two of you, soul recognizing soul.

She’d been dead by morning, magic siphoned and drained dry in the middle of the night.

The memory of it is metallic in your mouth. You head toward your apartment, hands tucked into the pockets of your jeans, head down. Beltane always makes you think of your sister. Makes you think of the morning you woke up on your thirteenth Beltane to find her cold and dead, magical signature gone. Severed. Torn away from you.

Losing your ability to generate magic was only second to losing your sister. You still feel adrift fifteen years later. Moving through the world with a piece of you missing. Two pieces of you, if you count the fact that you can feel the magic around you but not reach for it. You never reach for it, though you suspect that no one believes you.

Except maybe Seokjin. But even he doesn’t know the story of how you became what you are. All he knows is that you can’t create your own magic, and yet he’s never shamed you for it. Never turned his back on you, or berated you or bullied you.

That sort of kindness is a rarity in your world.

Your small northeastern town is easy to navigate. There’s not much that happens that doesn’t immediately become the knowledge of all citizens, and there’s not really a way to get lost unless you’re a tourist coming to visit the country's spookiest and most magical town. The locals are pretty firm believers in magic, but the out of towners don’t really believe. They just want camp and kitsch.

It’s busy season, the streets filled with people buying decorations to celebrate Beltane, restaurants full of tourists trying out local fare between going shop to shop. The festivals always draw a big crowd to your corner of the world, making it easier for you to blend in with all the rest of them. It almost makes you feel normal when someone doesn’t recognize you and immediately scowl. Sometimes you can even get away with eating at places that wouldn’t normally serve you, the workers too busy to really look at your face and see you.

A few people have taken pity on you outside of Seokjin. Namjoon and Jimin would never turn you away, always welcoming you with open arms, a warm cup of tea and free books for as long as you like at their bookstore. You’re not technically allowed in the metaphysical store on Fourth, but as long as Yoongi is working, you can walk through the rows and rows of crystals, grimoires, spices and charms. Seokjin is where you’re really home, though, his bakery a place of safety and fresh-smelling sugar cookies.

It’s where you go now, sticking to the shop windows and away from the tourists flowing all over Main Street like ants. There’s a line stretched out the door when you get to Magical Moon Bakery, and Jungkook looks helpless behind the counter as he nods while taking an order, wide-eyed and terrified.

Seokjin is at the delivery counter, flour staining his cheek and brow as he nods politely and hands a box of cupcakes over to his customer. As though he can sense you, he lifts his head and swivels, eyes scanning until they land on you, immediately shining. Your stomach leaps the way it often does around him, especially when he breaks out into a beautiful smile and jerks his thumb at an apron.

You roll your eyes. You’re not technically an employee at the bakery, but you help often enough that you tease Seokjin sometimes that he should start paying you. You never mean it, of course. Your reward is his unearned and unlikely friendship, and the fact that his friends have taken you in even when other covens have turned their backs on you.

Perhaps if he’d grown up here he’d hate you. It’s a thought you have often, even when you’re pulling the loop of a lavender apron over your head and tying it around your waist. You can’t imagine Seokjin ever hating you for no reason, but sometimes you wonder if he had the influence of the other kids of your town if it would be different.

“Can you take over the order counter?” he asks, the blush on his face the only sign that he’s getting a little frazzled. You nod and he winks at you, leaning over to press a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek. “Worldwide best friend.”

“Mhmm,” is the only response you manage to string together, flustered by his proximity.

It’s no secret that Seokjin is one of the best looking men in town. Even among witches, who are unnaturally beautiful to begin with, he stands out. Dark, silky hair swept back off of his forehead, dark eyes with a spark of caramel right around the pupil, lips full and lush like Aphrodite, and a face molded from the finest clay, glazed and perfected.

Loving him isn’t hard. He’s as kind as he is beautiful, and Seokjin is silly. Able to make you laugh and draw you out of the melancholy that is permanently affixed on your person. It’s been that way since you met in your early twenties right after he moved to town, and you’re grateful for it.

Even if loving him is pointless. He can never be yours - would never want to be yours in that way, anyway.

So you settle for less. Settling for crumbs is what you’re good at. What people think you deserve, being the little leech that you are.

No one you’re serving at the bakery knows you’re a leech, though. All they know is that they are eager to try the best baked goods in town, wondering at the menu as each item has a list of things it’s good for. Rose scones to make someone fall in love, marshmallow fluff cupcakes to soften the blow of bad news, gumdrop cakes to summon rain.

Everything on the menu has a charm to it, both literally and figuratively. Seokjin is wildly creative in his carefully crafted menu, and he imbues magic in everything he makes from the eggs to the whipped frosting.

Being here is nice. Jungkook grins when he sees you behind the counter, happy for the help. He still gets overwhelmed behind the till, and he’s more than happy to step back and chew his lip nervously when he processes a discount wrong. You’re up next to him before he can ask for help, typing on the screen while gently walking him through it again.

Jungkook is a good kid, an elemental witch who is prone to cause rainstorms when he gets stressed. For now, he is a bottle of sunshine, thanking you shyly and letting you know that he saved you a bag of butterscotch cookies in the back.

“I put in a little extra sunshine,” he promises. By that, you know that he means magic. To give you. You open your mouth to scold him but he shakes his head furiously, long, wavy locks shaking. “I wanted to do it. Please don’t yell at me.”

That gets you. It’s hard to be mad at him, especially when anger is likely to set him off into a rainstorm. Jungkook’s round eyes are pleading and he pouts, a tactic you know he has learned from his boyfriend to use as a weapon. You think about sending Taehyung some choice text messages but instead, thank Jungkook for the cookies and continue to help him.

This is what keeps you going most days. The unfettered kindness that Seokjin and his friends show you. None of them are locals to town, but they had formed their own coven a little at a time, a circle under the broad umbrella of the town's overall witch population.

Covens are difficult. You’re both in and not in Seokjin’s coven, an unofficial member by friendship. But you don’t practice anymore - won’t let yourself - so you’re on the outside looking in most weekends and during spiritual times of the year.

But by witch standard, you are a part of the covenstead of the town, the larger collective of witches who are loyal and responsible for one another, all answering to the high priestess. Who has begrudgingly let you stay as a member of the covenstead for the sheer fact that you’re her niece and nothing more.

When the rush of customers and crinkling to-go bags slows, you lean against the counter and reach a hand out just as the door to the back swings open. Seokjin has a glass bottle of soda ready for you, and he blinks in surprise when he sees your hand ready for it. You’re a little surprised as well. Though you have no magic on your own, you still sometimes predict things before they happen. Or at least, your instincts do.

“It’s freaky when the two of you do that,” Jungkook comments, eyes bouncing between you and Seokjin as the older hands you the bottle. “You’re always so in-tune.”

“She’s a witch,” Seokjin snorts, leaning against the glass case of mostly empty dishes as he takes a swig of his own. “Divination and all that is sort of what we do.”

“Yeah, but it only happens with you.”

You don’t meet Seokjin’s eyes as you swig from the bottle, the carbonation fizzing on your tongue. “I can’t help it that I inspire magical abilities,” is Seokjin’s answer. Always deflecting. You're grateful for the way he rolls with the punches, easily accepting the way others talk about you two as an item so you don’t have to. “Plus, even witch-adjacents have the ability of foresight.”

What he doesn’t say is that even in your dishonored position as a siphoner, you can get sensations and feelings. While you can sense magic and you’re still in tune with the world around you, Jungkook is right: you only have this sense of knowing with Seokjin, like there is a tiny string of fate connecting the two of you.

When it’s time to close down the shop, you help the two of them out. Seokjin goes to the back to begin batching things anew: fondant, bread, frosting - anything that he can let sit overnight or prep while the lights are out and he’s gone home. You focus on cleaning with Jungkook, letting him put on a pop playlist while he sings along, siren voice lulling you into a steady rhythm.

Part of you wants to ask what they’re doing for Beltane. Celebrating the holidays use to be your favorite, threading flowers through your hair, blessing your hearth and home, weaving new spells of prosperity and happiness alongside your sister. Now you don’t participate in any of the rituals with the others.

Most of the time, you celebrate alone in your room. Mark the points of the elements and the compass on your bedroom floor alone. Sit in front of a single candle, watching the flame flicker as you draw your circle of salt, murmuring blessings. It isn’t a powerful place of practice and you have no alter to command, but it's something. It’s yours.

Instead of asking, you follow Seokjin and Jungkook out of the door on the promise of dinner. It is the one thing that does feel like a ritual you’re allowed to participate in, holding chapel at Seokjin’s dining room table and elbowing with Jimin and Taheyung to reach for the food piled high.

Evening sky stretches overhead as you walk between Seokjin and Jungkook. You cast your eyes upward, watching the gray clouds float by. Seokjin throws an arm around you, pulling you in close and squeezing you to his side. He smells like vanilla and sweet orange from making his tangerina vanilla cakes for Yoongi. You breathe in his scent, letting it wash through you like a balm.

His arm presses a little too hard on the bruise where the rock from earlier nailed you, and you hiss, reaching behind your head automatically to adjust his hold on you.

“What?” he asks, lifting his arm and slowing his gait. Seokjin’s face is picture-perfect concern, mouth tilted downward, a crease in his brows. Before you can explain, his hands are pulling at the collar of your shirt. “You’ve got a welt here, what the hell is that?”

You smack at his hands and step away from him, pulling his warm fingers from your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

“Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ it's always something. Why do you have a lump on the top of your spine?”

Dancing away from him, you grab Jungkook who grunts, mouth full of corn chips as you shove him between you and Seokjin. More unhappy noises come from the youngest as Seokjin grabs for you but you squeak and use Jungkook’s broad body to block him again.

“Yah!” Seokjin yells, reaching both arms around either side of Jungkook to grab you. He manages to get one of your arms, pulling you toward him - and by default, Jungkook - and keeps a firm grip while you swat and fight back.

“Nooo!” Jungkook howls between the two of you, adding to the chaos as he shoves both of you away from him. “Stop using me as a battering ram! I’m going to drop my chips! Guys!”

“Tell me why you have a wound!”

“It isn’t a wound!”

“It’s a type of wound!”

“Ugh let my arm go, hulk!”

“Stop hissing at me like a rat!”

Jungkook drops his bag of chips and lets out a long, forlorn wail. “My chiiiiiiiiips!”

After a struggle, you manage to shake Seokjin off of you, taking a few steps back as you huff angrily, fists at your side. Seokjin sidesteps Jungkook who is pouting and looking at the ground, wavy bangs falling in his eyes as he stares at the spilled corn chips. Seokjin makes it worse by stepping on them, earning a shriek from Jungkook that goes ignored.

“Did someone hurt you?”

A rumble rolls through the sky from up above. You cast your gaze upward, looking at the clouds that are a little more swollen than they were a few minutes ago. You can sense the static in the air, a promise of lightning if you don’t diffuse Seokjin’s anger quickly.

Similar to Jungkook, Seokjin is sensitive to the elements. Where Jungkook has an affinity for the sky and the rain, Seokjin has a lot more skill with fire. Still, Seokjin is a powerful witch and his rage on more than one occasion has disturbed the sky and the lake in the middle of town.

It’s partly the reason he works so hard on never getting angry.

“It’s nothing, Jin,” you answer softly, eyes pleading. You desperately want him to drop it. Part of you is honored that he cares, but the other half of you can’t bear the way he looks at you. “Please drop it.”

“Someone hurt you. Again.”

Thunder echoes across the sky. Jungkook looks upward. “That isn’t me, even though I am mad about my chips.”

“Jin, it isn’t a big deal. Please.” You glance upward, thunder rolling again. “You’re going to make it rain.”

“I’ll make it do more than that when I find out who did it.”

“They were just kids, Jin. You can’t-”

He swears loudly and there’s a flash of lightning above your head. It makes you think of that night with your sister, laying in bed to let the storm pass. You clap your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut, automatically crouching to make yourself small.

Behind your shut eyes, you try not to let the memories come. Try not to imagine the vanilla scent of her hair, warm hands on your skin turned cold the next morning. You block out the screams, the way your mother shoved you away and your father yelled and yelled and yelled.

Above, the thunder stops. The rain doesn’t fall, and the air pressure returns to normal. Shivering, you crack an eye open to look at Seokjin, terrified at what you might find. His anger is so rare but flips on a dime, catching you off guard any time it happens.

Jungkook is murmuring in Seokjin’s ear now, voice hushed and urgent. Seokjin’s eyes become unfocused as he nods, Jungkook’s hands grasping the older’s biceps firmly. When Seokjn’s eyes find yours over Jungkook’s shoulder, they’re fathomless. Endless pools of black and something else that you can’t decipher as he murmurs something back to Jungkook, who steps away.

Licking his lips, Seokjin offers you a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.”

You swallow thickly. Reach out a tentative hand. “It’s okay.”

“You know I would never hurt you?”

Of course you know that. You aren’t afraid of Seokjin or the power he holds. You aren’t afraid of what he can do. You are afraid of the memories that nip at your heels like a pack of jackals, waiting for you to grow weak and fall before they attack. You are afraid of the way that it makes you feel when he cares about you.

“I know that,” you murmur, letting him pull you to your feet. “It’s just the thunder, that's all.”

His smile is soft. “I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hand. It’s a perfect fit, your palm in his. His skin buzzes with magic and you’re careful not to take any, always keeping your guard up so that you can never siphon again. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Home isn’t the small apartment on the west side of town that you keep by yourself. Home is Seokjin’s two-story house in the suburbs made of brick and mortar. It’s the crowded dining room with eight chairs pulled close to the wooden table and a chandelier full of burner candles and incense. It’s Seokjion’s cat familiar running yowling down the corridor as Yoongi’s maine coon chases it, hissing.

Home is seven witches who don’t care that you can’t generate your own magic, all of them laughing and pushing empty plates toward the middle of the table where Namjoon collects them with a snap of his fingers, the cutlery lifting and stacking neatly with the soft click of ceramic.

Bloated and overly satiated, you lean back in your chair, sighing heavily. Yoongi is next to you, quiet and staring off into space the way that he often does. Next to him, Jimin and Namjoon have their heads bowed together whispering, a blush flushing across Namjoon’s wine-glazed expression and tops of his ears.

Namjoon and Jimin strike something in you. A longing that tugs at your heart strings, drawing your gaze to the man sitting on the other side of you. Seokjin is leaning back in his chair, arm stretched over the back of your seat as he yawns mid-conversation with Hoseok.

Seokjin is barely touching you, but just the warmth of his arm is enough to make you dizzy. It’s barely there, just against the top of your back. You lean into him a little, resting your head on top of his arm. He maneuvers his hand to scratch the top of your head lightly. It feels so nice that your eyes flutter shut, letting him play with your hair as the noise in the room drifts to a dull buzz.

In another life, you think that this touch could be something more. Sometimes, you let yourself wonder if it is. Let yourself pretend that maybe Seokjin’s lingering gaze and lingering hand is more than the platonic affection he has for you.

It’s a silly dream.

When the dishes are washed and the others have said their goodbyes, it’s just you and Seokjin leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He has a glass of wine, sipping it thoughtfully as you put the cork back in the wine bottle. When you meet his gaze, you see something there. Hesitance. Anxiety.

Seokjin chews on his lips and swishes the wine in his glass. The red arches elegantly along the sides of the glass, slowly dripping back down to pool in his cup. You remember once at a winery you could measure the legs or something when swishing wine in a glass to learn some small factoid about the wine, but it’s far from your memory now.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, taking a sip of your own. It’s a strong mulled wine with notes of cherry, you think. “You look nervous.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your heart beats hard once. Then twice. Speeds up. Instead of answering right away, you take a sip of your wine, mind running through all of the things you think he might say. Maybe this is it, he’s going to tell you that you can’t come around as much. That though you’re his best friend, you have to stay away from his coven.

Instead, Seokjin says, “You know I’ve looked into your situation.” You wince when he says it but he pushes forward, leaning off the counter as he grows eager. “You said you weren’t always a siphon, that you could control your own magic as a child. I’ve been researching similar cases, and there is a lot of evidence that supports that it might be a magical block.”

“Jin.”

“Look, I’m happy with the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you. But I know that you aren’t happy with it.” His jaw flexes. “And I care about your happiness. I just… Yoongi and I have been reading up on rituals to release magical blocks, and with Beltane in a few days, we thought…”

Warmth bubbles in your chest. You know how much this means to him, trying to help you. To free you from the burden that you carry with you wherever you go. This is not the first time he has brought up trying to figure out your ailment. Your situation. And though you’re glad he cares about you enough to try, there is something humiliating about it.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Seokjin murmurs. You look up at him and his gaze is soft. Vulnerable. “But if you want us to try, we discussed it. And our circle is strong enough to try it on Beltane.”

Licking your lips, you nod once. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking of you.” You give him a look and he smiles, a little sad. “What? I am.”

“Stop trying to be charming. I’ll only say yes if I want to.”

“I have no doubt about that. However, it is impossible for me to stop my charm. It is a natural gift.”

You roll your eyes. “Along with your insufferable humor.”

“There is nothing insufferable about me. Especially with Yoongi around.”

You don’t push the argument. Seokjin grins again before opening a drawer in his kitchen, pulling out a small, cloth bag. There’s a green ribbon tying the top of it shut, and you smell the herbs inside of it immediately: cedar, bay leaves, mugwort.

Seokjin holds the bag out to you and you frown, taking it. It’s weighted with crystals. You squeeze the bag a little, feeling the crunch of crystal fragments and herbs. There is a vibration that travels from your fingers up your arms and you feel a sense of solid warmth.

“A protection bag,” you deadpan. “Really?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t need this.”

“The welt on your neck says otherwise.”

“Please stop!” Your voice is loud in the empty kitchen. He pulls up short, leaning against the counter and watching you with wide eyes, lips parted slightly. You sigh deeply and close your eyes for a moment, calming yourself before you open them and say, “I don’t mean to yell, it’s just - it’s hard when I feel like all of you coddle me. It’s humiliating.”

“It wasn’t my intention. I’d never want to make you feel that way.”

“I know.”

You do know. The intentions are good, but you can’t help the raw, venomous edge of frustration. It makes you feel less than, this constant need to help you. To do things for you.

“I don’t want to be a problem that everyone feels like they need to solve. There’s more to me than being the covenstead’s leech.”

“You know that isn’t how we think of you.”

You give a frustrated noise. “Then please. Let me ask for help when I need it.”

Seokjin is quick to catch the protection bag when you toss it back to him. He nods silently, eyes fixated on the floor. It feels like a hot stone has been dropped in your stomach, burning and weighing you down. How quickly a good dinner has turned sour, how the light air between the two of you has gone cold.

“Thank you for dinner. And for looking into a way out of this,” you gesture wildly to yourself. He nods, but there’s no mirth in his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course. Let me know about… you know.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

That night, you have trouble sleeping, just like that night when you were thirteen years old.

The back door to Shadow Metaphysical opens, creaking as Yoongi sticks his head out. His long hair is styled behind his ears and he’s in a soft-looking black sweater and jeans. He smiles when he sees you, gentle and kind as he opens the door a little wider, beckoning with his head to enter.

Slipping through the back door, you enter a dark office. It’s only lit by candles spread over various shelves and desks, and a few hovering candles near the ceiling. It’s warm and cozy, and you spot Yoongi’s familiar napping on the chair pulled up to the desk where a computer shows some sort of accounting system.

Yoongi leads you to the front of the store. It’s closed for the evening and he has receipts and cash laid out on the counter as he balances his drawer for the day. The shop has tall ceilings and is lined with rows and rows of dark shelving. The lighting here is not powered by candles or magic, but rather golden cafe lighting strung on the ceiling.

Shadow Metaphysical is one of your favorite places. It smells different each time you go in, the magic and the herbs and the spells inside of its four walls shifting with the energy of its employees and customers at all times. Today, it smells like night rain and crackling lightning.

Wordlessly, Yoongi gestures at the shelving, signaling to do whatever you need. He busies himself with going back to counting bills, head down and trusting you not to steal anything. Not that he would care, as he’s always emphasized he has no problem not taking your money.

Still, you always pay him, especially since he lets you in after hours where no one can yell at you for being inside. The covenstead has barred magical stores from siphoners, convinced that they would cross the threshold and drain the shops of magic.

It isn’t true, though you can feel the ebb and flow of open magic sources around you. You��re not here for magical purposes, specifically. There are things you can buy yourself and keep in your apartment to ground you to the earth, and there are still rituals and practices that you keep up with, even as your connection is severed.

As you pass rows and rows of books on rituals, you think about Seokjin’s offer to help you figure out your block. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried and failed to figure out what happened. With magic, the point of origin is always the key to any spell. The how and the where of your condition are important elements to figuring out the solution, but no one really knows the how and the where.

Your friends don’t have full clarity on that night. You’ve never told them in explicit detail of how you woke up, full of your sister’s magic. The town calls you a kin killer and a leech, so you’re sure they know enough to know the source of your hesitation is violent and personal.

Still, you slow as you pass a grimoire. The runes on it shine gold when you pause, winking at you, begging you to touch it. You feel the whisper of the spells of dozens of witches inside of it, their phantom fingers brushing down your arms. Your spine. You shiver and look away from the book, pressing on to the herbs section.

It would be nice not to feel the lure of power. Not to feel the itch and the cunning voices of magic begging you to use them use them use them use them-

“Stop,” you growl out loud. You don’t know who you’re talking to - yourself, the magic in the store, the universe. Taking a deep breath, you gather your wits and complete your shopping, moving with a robotic pace around the store to get what you need.

At the register, Yoongi gives you a wary look as you set things down on the counter. He takes his time scanning them, glancing at you occasionally. You can sense he wants to ask a question, dark eyes lingering a few times. That’s the thing about Yoongi, though. He’ll never ask, he’ll just wait until you give up.

Which you do, sighing and saying, “Ask.”

His lips twitch as he bags a few jars of thorns. “How often do the books in here talk to you?” You level a stare at him and he rolls his eyes. “I can hear you. And every time you’re in here, it’s like they all turn to look at you. Is it often?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Since it happened, there’s always been a pull or like magical objects to taunt me.” You chew your lip and rub your sweaty palms on your jeans. “It’s worse around the sabbat holidays.”

“Stronger magic.”

“Yeah.”

“Did Jin explain what ritual we talked about?” You shake your head. He pushes over a paper bag filled with all your things and you hand over your card. As he swipes it, Yoongi explains. “Two smaller rituals wrapped into one. Namjoon found a really old binding ritual that was used to form a bridge between multiple rituals.”

“So like when you chain spells together,” you offer. “Impressive. I guess that would be used for improving upon old rituals?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Seokjin had been doing some research on magical blocks and shit, and found one that locates a point of origin of the block whether it’s internal or external.”

“External?” He nods. “Like a curse?”

“Yes. Any reason anyone would want to curse a thirteen-year-old?”

Yoongi phrases it like a joke and chuckles. But you don’t laugh, stilling as you think about his question. Your immediate answer is no, at thirteen there was certainly nothing you could have done to be cursed. But you think about your parents, thinking about the fear revolving around their gifts for blood magic, think about the way they were always regarded with equal parts fear and reverence as coven leaders.

Curses aren’t common. It would take a coven of extremely skilled witches to curse someone, but it could take a single very skilled blood witch to toss one. Hexes aren’t long-term and are far more manageable, but you think about the way your power vanished, the way you bled your sister dry.

The misery you’ve faced since, the loss of your parents shortly after, the hatred from the covenstead.

“Holy shit, you don’t think you’re cursed, do you?” Yoongi’s question brings you out of your daze. All of the amusement has been wiped clean from his expression, eyes deadly serious. “Who would curse a child?”

“People were really afraid of my parents,” you admit. “My mom used to lead the covenstead here, you know?” That surprises him and you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, before my aunt. She isn’t a blood witch. My mom was and led the covenstead until um - my sister died.”

“I never knew that. No one talks about it.”

There is a question there. Yoongi won’t say it outright, but you sense the curiosity nonetheless. You feel your throat constrict a little as you murmur, “She stepped aside when my sister died. It was more political than anything, but no one talks about it out of respect for my aunt.”

“But still, to curse a child?”

“There was…” You think back to the time when you were thirteen. Those days are painted so painfully when you think about them that it is hard to remember anything else. “My parents were involved in the Trials that were going on at that time. Hunting Dissenters.”

Yoongi’s face darkens. “I see.”

“They had a lot of enemies. So maybe… I don’t know.”

For a few moments, Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He busies himself with packing away the rest of the till and waving his hand, dousing all the lights in the store with ease. There’s a little pang as he does it, such simple magic that costs him nothing. That you have no access to.

“Well,” Yoongi sighs, a little awkwardly. “Think about it. If - and it’s unlikely - that someone cursed you, you’ll know if we go through with the ritual.” He pauses and levels you with a look. “It is dangerous though. So consider the risk before you agree, hmm?”

You nod and thank him. He leads you out of the store and gives you an awkward smile goodbye. Never affectionate, but always polite and warm nonetheless.

Sunset-purple skies stretch above you. It smells like fresh rain and earth outside. Town is quieter now that the evening crowd has finished dinner and gone home or back to their accommodations for the evening. You pass places with patio seating and small diners tucked between stores, wary eyes of the workers following you as you walk down the sidewalk.

No one says good evening. Some don’t look at you at all.

Curse.

The word weighs heavy on you. You’d never considered that your condition could be from a curse before, but now that you think about it, you can’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind.

The Trials had been a scary time for witches, Dissenters leaving covensteads to start their own, dark and forbidden spellwork becoming more and more popular among covens. Your parents - especially your mother and her sister - had been a huge part of cleansing the covenstead from witches who practice dark magic.

Especially the few blood witches.

You had been a blood witch, though. Like your sister, like your mother. People had always been wary of them, which is why your mother worked so hard to get rid of the Dissenters when she was the head priestess.

They give us a bad name, she would say darkly when you and your sister asked why she was getting rid of witches like you. Like her. In times like this, we have to work extra hard to prove we aren’t evil.

And then you bled your sister dry. Drained her magic until she couldn’t fight you back and you woke up to that feeling of her cold hands on your overwhelmed skin. Your mother had never really looked at you the same after that, stepping down as the high priestess immediately.

You suspect she protected you in the only way she could. Disallowing you to use magic of any sort, placing hard restrictions on how you could live, outlawing you from spaces where you had grown up. It was better than death.

At least, you used to think so.

Yoongi’s words weigh heavy on you as you sit in your apartment alone. You don’t bother to put the TV on, knowing that you won’t be able to pay attention to anything. Magic always comes at a price, and two rituals wrapped into one is going to take a toll.

And yet, you think about getting to the bottom of this sickness, this curse. This inability to do anything but steal magic, to leech off of others. You think about how your magic used to feel, the way you could command fire with a snap of your fingers or make stars fall from your bedroom ceiling.

An ache settles in your chest as you lay back on the couch and close your eyes, throat tight and eyes burning. You have been without magic for so long. Part of you thinks what's a little longer? But deep down, you crave it. The spark, the life, the touch of magic.

You want to be able to enter stores without the itch underneath your skin, an addiction you can’t cure nor divulge in. You want to be able to be a part of a community again, to do rituals with Yoongi and Jungkook and Seokjin. You want to be able to help him in his bakery, imbuing his scones and cupcakes with love and a little spark of something extra.

Tears flow hot on your face. You know what you want, and you know that it’s going to cost you to get it. You know that to do this, you’ll have to be open and honest, because there are only two possible options for your magic block: you are cursed or you have a mental block.

It’s hard to know if being cursed as a result of your parents’ policing is worse than potentially having an internal block, an innate refusal to do magic because of what you did.

That night sits at the back of your mind like a stone, sinking sinking sinking. Pulling you under as you think about it in explicit detail. Maybe you simply killed your twin. A horrible accident, but perhaps it was just you. Your magic. Your fault.

And your magic had fled because of it, a self-inflicted punishment.

Before you’re aware of what you’re doing, you have the phone in your hand, sniffing and wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Your face feels swollen and sticky with tears and overwarm and it’s hard to get a breath as you press the phone to your ear, listening to the ringing.

Seokjin picks up on the fourth ring, his voice cheery. “What, did Yoongi forget to let you in the store?”

“No.”

“I’m coming now,” Seokjin says, completely forgoing humor when he hears you sniff, hears the waver in your voice. “Are you home?”

“Yeah.”

“Did anyone hurt you?”

“No,” you hiccup. “I’m just really sad and I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Do you want to stay on the phone?” You shake your head and let out a little sob. Something about knowing he’s coming over to be with you cracks your resolve a little more. You realize he can’t see you when he prompts, “Hey, you there?”

“Sorry, no. Drive safely, please.”

“For you? Anything.”

Despite your tears, your mouth wobbles into a weak smile at that. It makes your heart squeeze just a little, underneath all the hurt.

It doesn’t take him long to let himself in the apartment. You can sense him before he even gets to the stairs leading up to your unit, his crackling energy like a beacon to you. When he opens the door with the key you gave him, he fills the space with static, magic snapping and tinged with worry.

Magic always belies how Seokjin feels. Like now, as he rushes across the apartment, he is lightning, all energy and anxiety popping and snapping as he sits on the couch next to you, pulling you into his chest.

Seokjin is warm and smells like vanilla and sweet orange from the bakery. It’s soothing. You close your eyes and clutch the hem of his shirt, resolve cracking the rest of the way as he becomes your anchor as you drift out to sea, holding you so that you can be lost in the overwhelming feeling of loss without getting too far.

He doesn’t tell you not to cry. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Seokjin leans back on the couch, pulling you into his lap, holding your knees so that he can hold you. One hand rubs your back and he rests his chin on the top of your head, leading you to use the crook of his neck as a place to hide - and turn into a waterfall for your tears.

This is what you love about Seokjin though. He doesn’t pry. He just lets you use him, lets you cry it out and he waits.

When the tears begin to dry and you find it easier to breathe again, you shift away from Seokjin and wipe your face. He smiles down at you, eyes glittering and expression so fond that you find yourself staring blankly into his face.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff. “And thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you.” You hate the way it makes your heart flip when he says that. You start to pull away from him to sit on the couch properly but his arms constrict you, keeping you to him. You frown but he asks, “I want to know what happened, if you’re ready to talk about it.”

Seokjin is so close his breath fans your face. You look up at him. Silky, long lashes that you could individually count with your proximity, beautiful tan and smooth skin with a glow all witches have, strong brows that you always thought made Seokjin’s face the perfect balance of boyish and beautiful.

Your heart starts to speed up and your mouth dries out with the way he looks at you, intense and searching. Suddenly you’re afraid if he looks too hard, he’ll see down to your core.

“I- yeah. I need some water,” you croak, pulling away. He lets you go this time, unaware that what you really need is space between the two of you, a barrier so he can’t see. So he won’t know. “Turns out sobbing makes you thirsty.”

Before you can get all the way to the kitchen, there’s a soft clink accompanied by a full glass of water on your counter. You glare at Seokjin over your shoulder and he winces and shrugs in apology.

As you gulp down mouthfuls of cool water, you wonder how to word exactly what you’re upset about. How you’re tired of existing in the world without your magic but you’re also unsure if you want to know the truth about why your magic left you.

Seokjin is iffy on the details about the night your sister died. He’s never asked you explicitly for the story before, but if you want to go through with finding out the root cause of your block, you know you’ll be exposed. To him. To all of them. To his coven.

The desire to be one of them is so strong that it makes your knees weak as you walk toward the couch. You sit abruptly on the couch arm, staring into the distance as you drink the rest of the water. You want to join them so much, to celebrate the sabbat holidays, to feel the rush of a closed circle of magic and yet…

Would they accept you if they knew you killed your sister? You’re not so sure.

You look at Seokjin. He waits patiently, watching you with soft eyes. Moonlight seeps in through the blinds behind him, wreathing him in silver light. He looks like a god, then. Of shadows, of night, of mystery. This best friend of yours who you love so much and who has loved you indiscriminately when he didn’t have to.

“I talked to Yoongi about maybe doing the ritual,” you start slowly. Seokjin nods, encouraging you. “And I think I came to the conclusion that I want to do it. I’m tired of feeling everyone’s magic pull at me, like a vice that I have to ignore every day. And I’m tired of wanting to do things I used to, to feel the world around me. But most of all, I just want to be a part of something. A part of a coven, a family.”

Understanding paints Seokjin’s face. He reaches a hand out and takes yours, giving you a firm squeeze. “You know even with no magic, you’re our family, right?”

“It’s different.” He starts to protest but you shake your head. “I want to be in a coven and to feel the power of a circle. I want to celebrate and do rituals with you, I want to be a part of something magical. I can’t do that like this, not without the fear of draining everyone.”

He nods. “Of course. We’ll have you either way, you know? We’d still welcome you like this.”

“But I’d never be able to close your circle.” Seokjin nods. He knows the truth of this. “But this ritual requires truth, and there’s some things about me that I’ve never talked to you about. Things about the night I… I could no longer do magic. I want you to be informed, to know what we might find if we do this.”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“A coven and a working circle requires trust and honesty. I can never be one of you if you don’t know me completely.”

He nods. “That is true.”

“I’m going to tell you about the night that my sister died.” He squeezes your hand and nods, but says nothing else. “My sister and I were twins, both blood witches. Unusual enough for our parents and the covenstead to be incredibly proud of us, but not unusual enough for people to be afraid, you know?”

“Twins… That’s incredibly powerful.”

“Yeah,” you agree, throat tight. “We were really fond of the connection too, you know? It was nice to always have someone to rely on who was my perfect balance. We were never-” You take a breath. “Neither was more powerful than the other. There was never any jealousy or overpowering the other. We were always evenly matched.”

“Whenever it would storm,” you continue. “I would go lay in her room. I hated storms but she loved them. I did this countless times up until we were thirteen. I don’t know… Jin, I don’t know what was different that night. I think back to it every single day, what did I do differently, was there an object I touched, a spell I used? And I come up with nothing. But on Beltane when we were thirteen, it was storming. We’d already finished the festival and our parents were out doing their duties and I went and I fell asleep in her room and… and I woke up…”

For a moment, you can’t get the words out. They get trapped in your throat and you stare, unseeing. You imagine the lightning against the window. The warmth of your sister's hands. The tree tap tap tapping against the window with the strength of the wind.

“I drained her in the middle of the night,” you whisper. It’s out now and you can’t stop, can’t look at Seokjin’s face to see his reaction. “I went to sleep as normal and when I woke up, she was freezing and lifeless and I felt more powerful than I ever had before. Like I was this magical battery charged up and sparking.”

For a moment, you pause and look at Seokjin. You expect to see horror or disgust or a variety of negative emotions, but he’s still watching you. Fond. Waiting. No judgment. When he sees you staring, he gives you a tiny smile and a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m still listening.”

“Aren’t you…” You trail off and shake your head. “I killed my sister. Are you not horrified?”

He frowns then. “You didn’t kill your sister.”

“Yes I did.”

“You weren’t born a siphoner, how could you possibly predict that would ever happen? You didn’t get in that bed with her and then leech her magic, no matter how much it must feel that way. It wasn’t your fault, though I know hearing me say that doesn’t make it feel any less true in here.” He reaches forward and taps your heart lightly. “There is nothing I can say to ease the pain and guilt of that, but what you’re describing to me isn’t the tale of a murderer. It’s the story of someone who had a freak accident, which is more common among the magical community than one might think.”

“I don’t know what happened,” you admit, a tear escaping your eye. Before you can wipe it though, Seokjin’s thumb is there, swiping across your face and collecting it. You watch with wide eyes as he cups your face, looking at you with so much something that your head spins. “But in the morning, I was alive and she was dead. And my parents and everyone else hated me for it. That’s why they treat me the way they do. That’s why my mother stepped down as high priestess, why my parents were driven to grief. Why I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

“How can anyone accept me like this?”

“Because it isn’t what defines you. We are not made up of only the things we do and the things that happen to us, and I promise you, this is something that happened to you.”

“But why? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin admits. “But we’re going to find out, okay?

“What if the others don’t want me?”

“They would never,” he’s quick to say. He’s still holding your face, wiping tears from your eyes. “And if they did, I don’t care. I’d do the ritual myself, just to prove to you that this burden you carry isn’t your fault.”

You crack a grin, despite the dark topic. “Yeah? You’d try and do a circle for you?”

“I would walk through fire for you.”

You pull your face out of his hands and shove him a bit. “Fire is your favorite element, Jin. That’s not impressive.”

His laughter fills the room and he tugs at your hands. You grapple with him as he tries to pull you down, your ache forgotten as you laugh and squeal. “Yah! Let me try and be poetic! It was the first thing that I could think of.”

“You’re a witch, you’re practically impervious.”

Seokjin overpowers you and pulls you down against his chest. Suddenly you’re very close again, your palms pressed against his chest, the thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through your fingers. You make a surprised sound as he looks up at you, gaze a little darker. A little hazy.

Gently, Seokjin reaches up and brushes his fingers across your chin. It’s featherlight and more intimate than you expect, making you blink in surprise. You’re frozen, limbs stuck and heart racing as you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Suddenly the moment feels different - this feels different.

“Not impervious to you though.”

When he says it, you don’t answer at first. You think you imagine him saying it. That suddenly this has blurred into a fantasy of yours. Perhaps you’re actually asleep, soothing your pain with dreams of Seokjin. Of being like this with him, pressed closed and intimate with his gaze burning.

“What?” you whisper back, unable to string together a better response.

He doesn’t seem offended though, huffing a laugh. “Fire might not get to me,” he says. “You certainly did, though.”

“I don’t…”

“We’re practicing honesty because you’re right. If we’re going to lift this block on you and let you join our circle, there can’t be secrets between us. There’s so much to tell you, but I need you to know before we do this how I feel.”

“How you feel?”

“Yes. As the leader of our circle, it’s my duty to be honest with you and to give you an out. I don’t want you to cast our first circle and suddenly be able to see - feel - how I feel and then there’s no way out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d walk through fire for you - hey, stop laughing at me! Because you are an amazing person. But I would also do it because I have fallen head over heels for you. Chaotically so. Painfully so.”

This is a dream. It has to be, because there is no way that Seokjin is lying under you, face so close to yours, hands gripping your forearms, and staring at you like that, gaze dreamy, smile on his face.

“It’s not a dream,” he laughs, making you realize you’ve said it out loud. “Or perhaps it is a dream and I am once again imagining that I am the hero to your tale, a knight saving you because he likes you and you will let me because you like me. But that would be a silly dream, because you have always been the bravest person I know and you have always refused to be saved.”

“You like me?”

“I do. And it’s okay if you don’t like me back. But I wanted you to know before you step into a circle with us. The others know - can see it light up inside of me every time we cast. But I didn’t want to surprise you with that. Not with this, not when it’s about you. It would have been cruel.”

Seokjin could never be cruel. The word cruel doesn’t even exist in the same plane of existence as this man. This witch who has never done anything but ask if you need help. Who simply enjoys baking things for the community and its visitors, filling every good with magic. A little extra something to make their lives more manageable, more fruitful.

This man, who would have you even as you are in his coven of witches. Even if a circle couldn’t be drawn and salted correctly. Even if they have no use for you. This friend, who has heard what you’ve done - or didn’t do - and looks at you all the same. Doesn’t see a monster or someone terrible, doesn’t see someone capable of murder.

The very thought of Seokjin loving you even as you are is enough to send a shiver through you.

“You know why I thought I was dreaming, right?” you ask him. Seokjin shakes his head, watching your every move. “Because I have dreamed of you saying that often. It was always a comfort to me when I was sad or my longing to have you was intense. I just thought I never could. Wasn’t worthy of it, wasn’t-”

Seokjin moves faster than you can finish your sentence. He surges forward, hands skimming up your arms roughly to cup your face and pull you down to him. He presses his lips firmly to yours and anything you were going to say vanishes, thoughts a wisp of smoke.

Sparks fly quite literally. Seokjin’s magic crackles and you resist to pull it in and consume it, too distracted by the soft feel of his lips. It’s just an innocent press of mouths at first, making your head spin as you realize you’re kissing Seokjin.

Then, he pulls away to look at you, face aglow. You’re a little breathless and reeling when you open your eyes to see his grin.

“You’re worthy of so much more,” he whispers.

There’s no time to respond as he pulls your lips to his again, this time kissing you properly. He tastes sweet, like one of his meringue treats. The slide of his plush mouth against yours makes you dizzy. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping slightly and you become ravenous.

Your tongue brushes against his teeth and he makes a throaty sound, opening up to let you deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping against his. He’s a slow kisser, dragging his tongue against yours and letting you fall fall fall into him.

Seokjin’s hands slide from your face down your shoulders and past them, stopping only at your hips where he squeezes. Your stomach flips at the contact and you twitch a little bit, grinding down into him as his kisses go from languid to a little needier.

“Fuck,” he gasps, head tilting back. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, mouth going to his jaw. You press wet kisses there, messy lips followed by your tongue, leaving a spit-slick trail. His skin makes your tongue tingle, magic vibrating.

He slips his hands under the hem of your shirt and digs his blunt nails into your hips. “You know what?”

Grinning, you bring your mouth up to his. Slowly, you lower your hips so you’re pressed flush to his, rolling them again, this time painfully slow. Your breath catches in your throat at the slow-drag friction, the feeling of him shivering underneath you.

“That?” you ask, breathless against his mouth.

“Enough,” he hisses.

The world spins. Seokjin grabs you and in a single, swift movement sits up and stands, carrying you with him. You squeal, hands shooting to grasp at his shoulders as he walks toward your room. He kicks his shin on the coffee table as he stumbles with you, balance off with the added weight.

He curses loudly and you can’t help but laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth when his sharp gaze snaps to yours. His eyes are dark dark, hungry and fathomless now as he raises a brow. “Yeah, you’re laughing?”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit.

“You’re gonna be.”

A wild thrill shoots through you as he carries you to the bedroom. You forget how strong he is, muscles flexing as he shifts you again, careful not to drop you. It makes you feel giddy, but you squeak in a moment of terror when he drops you unceremoniously on your bed, the brief moment of freefall startling.

You land with a huff and he grins down at you as he stands up against the edge of the bed, knees squeezing your legs together as he reaches behind his neck to yank at his t-shirt. You watch, slack-jawed as he pulls the material up and over his head in a way that is somehow hot, as benign as it is.

Seokjin is all gold and tan planes, body perfect in the low light of your room as he tosses his shirt. You take a second to admire his broad chest, dark nipples pebbling in the cool room. Dark hair trails from his belly button and vanishes in the waist of his jeans.

Seeking warmth, you reach for him. He leans forward, pressing his palms into the mattress to hover over you, knees placed on either side of your thighs. His muscles jump when you brush your hands up the softness of his stomach toward the harder muscle of his pecs.

It feels like the sun is trapped underneath his skin, burning its way out of him as your fingers explore. You’ve never touched him like this, slow and reverant and full of unbridled desire. He watches you, drinking in the way you take him in. The way you take your time.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, looking up at him. His ears turn red and he rolls his eyes. You grin, dragging your hand up to rest over his chest where his heart thuds wildly beneath your palm. “I mean here, idiot. Yeah you’re hot too, but you’re beautiful in here.”

Unreadable emotion flits across his face. Something like joy and pain - the pain of wanting to hear that for so long, waiting for the admission. You understand the same pain of desire filled so unexpectedly that it hurts.

Seokjin kisses you again and this time with intent. He shifts and slides a knee between your legs, pressing up to the apex of your thighs. You groan and lift your hands, sliding them through his hair. The strands are silky soft and long. You twist your fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling him to you as the kiss turns messy.

Whatever this is between you is more magic than you’ve felt in years. You feel breathless as he kisses across your jaw and toward your neck, sucking harshly on the soft skin underneath your ear. You whine and he chuckles, hot breath hitting your ear.

“Why don’t you do that thing you love so much, hmm?” he asks, nipping your ear lobe. “Are you shy now? Don’t wanna grind on me?”

You do want to, but you hesitate. He encourages you, taking a hand and skimming down your waist to your ass, sliding under and squeezing your cheek as he lifts your hips in a motion to grind against him. The friction is good but not nearly enough and you let out a pitiful sound.

“Come on,” he urges. “Do it right, then.”

Fuck. Fuck.

You grind your cunt on his leg properly, planting your feet on the edge of the bed for leverage as Seokjin’s mouth ravages your neck. You’re lost in him, letting your mind go a little empty as you seek friction, needing to relieve the pressure throbbing in your cunt.

Arousal gathers in your stomach and you feel yourself slow-drip into your panties, so turned on by the sudden confidence Seokjin has when kissing you, when telling you to move. This is a side of him you’ve never explored and you dive in head first.

One hand leaving his hair, you grab his hand that’s on your ass as he continues to nip your collarbones, tongue laving over the sting of his bite. He lets you lead him by the wrist, and you guide his hand between your legs where you press his fingers to your zipper.

“Please,” you rasp. “I need more.”

He sinks his teeth into the top of your right breast, tongue tasting your skin. “Is that so?”

“Please. You said you’d walk through fire for me.”

His laugh is loud and he buries his face in your neck. You can’t help but laugh too, pausing your greedy hands in exchange for mirth. “Yeah,” he agrees with a chaste kiss to your throat. “I did say that, huh?”

“Yes, so gimme.”

“Yah. Of course I am.”

Years of friendship have erased any ability to feel awkward with Seokjin but for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll be weird, touching one another like this. Seokjin has no such qualms, unbuttoning your pants and yanking them down your legs with ease.

When he comes back up to lean over you, he doesn’t slot a knee between your legs. Instead, his fingers press firmly to your clothed cunt, a curse falling from his mouth as he feels how damp you are. You’re hot all over and yet you feel hotter still as he circles his fingers gently over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, lids fluttering closed. “Feels good.”

“You’re fucking drenched, all from a little kissing huh?”

“And grinding,” you add.

“Yeah, like a hungry little vixen, huh?” You nod, biting your bottom lip as you get lost in his lazy ministrations and pressure on your clit. It’s relieved some of the ache, but not nearly enough. “I can see on your face you already want more.”

This time, Seokjin doesn’t make you ask for it. He hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them to the side. Immediately you feel cold air against you, but he’s quick to slide his fingers up and down your wet folds, slicking them up to trail back up and circle slowly around your clit.

“Damn you’re fucking wet,” he curses. He leans up a little, eyes fucked out. “Take the rest off for me, baby.”

Baby. It shivers through you and you comply, though a little haphazardly. It’s hard to remove your shirt and bra with the way his fingers are slowly pressing your clit, making you thrash and gasp.

As soon as you lay back down, no shirt and no bra, Seokjin is leaning forward, tongue darting out to flick against a stiffened nipple. You let out a loud moan and he hums in response, attacking his mouth to you and sucking. Fuck it feels good. You arch off the bed and his fingers leave your swollen clit to slide down your sticky mess to circle your entrance.

Gently, he sinks in a single finger. Your eyes roll back a little, pussy fluttering as he strokes your front wall. You’re tingling all over, buzzing with pleasure as he slowly fucks you with his finger, mouth busy plucking at your nipple with his teeth.

You’re lost in it, melted into the bed as Seokjin plays you like a well-tuned instrument. The heel of his palm presses against your clit, providing just enough pressure as he fingers you to send the room spinning on its axis.

He tongue-kisses across your chest, mouth ravenous against your heaving gasps as he finds your other nipple. The tip of his tongue circles, making you keen and squirm underneath him. He watches you with dark eyes, teasing the aching bud before nipping you lightly.

“Sensitive,” he mumbles, dragging spit-slicked lips against your breast. “Can you take another finger?”

You nod eagerly, hungry to be filled. Your orgasm is starting to build slowly, worked up by the way he mouths at you, by the way Seokjin’s fingers reach so deep, pressing against your g-spot as he sinks another into your heat.

“Shit,” you pant. “That feels so fucking good, Jin.”

“Mhmm.” He brings his mouth up to yours and your tongues tangle, teeth clinking together as he fucks you harder, the wet smack of your pussy against his palm loud. “Tight fucking pussy,” he pants, pressing hard against your front wall. Your heels dig into the bed as you try to keep up with the pleasure blooming in your stomach. “Gonna need to fuck you open a little if you’re gonna take me.”

If you’re gonna take me.

The promise of more has you rolling your hips up to meet his hand. He lets you fuck yourself on his fingers, dropping his gaze to look between your bodies. Your thighs and his stomach are slick with your juice, leaking around his fingers uncontrollably.

When Seokjin introduces another finger, you hiss. The stretch is hard and it burns. He doesn’t keep thrusting right away, letting your cunt stretch around his three digits. But he’s pressed up against your soft spot, making you see stars as he puts unrelenting pressure on your nerves.

It feels like insanity, the way he does this to you. The way Seokjin buries his face in your neck, your chests pressed together to provide friction against your teeth-marked nipples as he starts to build up a pace again, thrusting.

“I’m gonna come,” you whisper, hands grabbing frantically at his sweaty shoulder blades. Your thighs are shaking and it’s hard to get a breath in. Your voice quakes as you gasp. “Fuck, Jin I’m - ah ah ah.”

“So come,” he says, as if it’s that simple. He puts weight behind the hand fucking you, quickens the pace. Presses so fucking hard you think you might blackout. “If you’re gonna come, then do it.”

And you do. Just like that, nails digging into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, you come around his fingers. He fucks you through it, breath hot in your ear. Your knees squeeze around his hips until you’re spent, collapsing against the mattress, boneless.

Seokjin retracts his fingers. The sudden feeling of being empty makes you huff in protest and he laughs, lifting his face from your neck. You pout up at him and he kisses you again before leaning upward, straddling your legs.

Your eyes zero in on his hands as they undo the top of his belt. His hand is covered in a wet sheen, cum-slicked and sticky. He doesn’t care, popping up the belt and pulling down the zipper of his pants. You grow eager, leaning up as he pulls the waist down, revealing the dark briefs that do nothing to hide how hard he is.

With no warning, you reach for his clothed cock, squeezing firmly. He hisses and drops his hands, jeans only pulled halfway down his thighs. Seokjin tips his head back and moans at the ceiling as you lean forward and mouth at the damp spot on his briefs, tasting salt.

“Fuck,” he swears and you grin, pressing and holding the flat of your tongue to the cloth to wet it. “You’re a little slut, huh?”

You hum in agreement. Fingers dancing up his thighs, you pause at the elastic band, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I?”

Seokjin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes half-lidded. He nods, watching and dazed as you peel the elastic down his hips slowly. You lean forward as you do, pressing a soft kiss to his hip bone. He twitches and sighs in response.

You look at his cock as it bobs against his stomach, brown tip smearing precum against his navel. You lick your lips and drag your hand up, fingers gripping his velvety shaft. He’s thick and heavy in your hand as you grasp him firmly, stroking upward.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, hips twitching. You grin up at him, swiping a thumb over the crown of his cock to spread the wetness down his shaft. He hums, entranced. “More.”

You don’t have to ask what he means. You lean upwards, pulling the tip of his cock toward your mouth. You slide just the tip into your mouth, suckling generously and running your tongue along the slit. His hand slips to the side of your neck, resting there but not doing anything. It’s a comforting weight as you take him in your mouth properly.

Seokjin is art above you. Chest flushed, mouth open, eyes closed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was on his knees at worship. It is a sort of worship, the way you sink down on his cock, lips stretched wide, drool dripping down the side of your mouth and running down your jaw and neck. Is it not the spirit of loving him moving through you? Is this not heaven, looking up at him and seeing someone that has chosen you over and over again?

No pagan ritual in your life as a witch has felt like this. You swallow around him, eyes watering as you choke on his length, pulling back a little to catch your breath. Your hand squeezes him at the base, slick with your spit and his precum. Your mouth is wet and swollen as you lick the underside of his shaft, never looking away from his face.

“Fuck that mouth,” he sighs, eyes opening and looking down at you. He squeezes the side of your neck a little, fingers right against your throat. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I can’t hold out if you keep going. How do you like it?”

Instead of answering him, you pull off of him with a sloppy, wet noise. You make a show of running your tongue along your lips before turning around and crawling up the bed, wiggling your ass a little. Seokjin groans as he sheds his jeans and briefs the rest of the way.

The bed sinks when he crawls behind you. You go down on your elbows, ass up high. He smacks each cheek firmly with both hands, making you yelp as he grips the stinging flesh, squeezing. “You have a good ass.”

“You have a nice dick.”

He laughs loudly at that. Seokjin’s hand skims down to your thighs, grabbing them and pushing them open. You sink a little lower on the bed, face pressed to the sheets and letting your eyes shut. The hair on his thighs sends a shiver up your spine as his legs brush against yours, hands roaming and squeezing your hips, your butt, your thighs.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters. His hands come back over the globes of your ass and sink toward your wet cunt. You moan as his thumbs peel you open, pressing around your clenching hole. “Shit.”

The bed bounces as he moves again and then your eyes are snapping open, fingers twisting in your sheets when you feel the flat of his tongue swipe up your pussy. He hums in delight and you’re reeling, trying to catch your breath as he licks at you.

“Just wanted a taste,” he says, more to himself than you. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it a few times and you nearly crumble right there at the unexpected stimulation. He slow-licks up to your hole, tracing it once before retracting his mouth. “I have all the time in the world for you to come in my mouth. Right now I just wanna feel you.”

“Yes, please.”

Your breath gets stuck when you feel the head of Seokjin’s cock catch your entrance. He’s thick, and even though you’re dripping down your thighs and stretched from his fingers, the pressure of him sinking into your heat slowly sends you moaning like a wanton whore, unable to stop the sounds escaping your mouth.

Seokjin is precise, hands holding your hips firmly until he’s fully seated in your cunt, your walls fluttering around him. You feel so full, his cock reaching deep enough to feel in your gut. When he pulls all the way out, you think something is wrong, but he fucks back into you hard.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, feeling the full weight of him spear you. “Holy shit.”

He doesn’t say anything but he grunts, setting a slow but deep pace. His hips snap into you with force, your knees spreading a little bit wider. He leans into it more, moving his hands to press into the small of your back. The full force of his weight pushing your hips into the bed as he slams into you makes you dizzy.

An orgasm starts to build deep in your stomach. You claw at the bed, breaths coming out in a hiss. Seokjin grabs one of your hands, pulling it backward to pin it against your lower back before doing the same to the other. You’re completely pinned under him, pushed so far into the mattress you think you might fade and vanish into foam and sheets.

Nothing here matters but the way he fucks into you, unrelenting, heavy, precise. He says your name and it rolls off his tongue sweeter than any pastry he’s ever made. Your orgasm creeps up on you, shaking and thunderous. It feels stronger than before, a pressure that makes you start to shiver, feet kicking under him.

For a moment, he slows, pulling off you a little. “Okay?”

“Keep going,” you beg him, voice high-pitched and strange to your ears. “Please don’t stop, I’ll tell you if I can’t take it.”

That’s all he needs. He redoubles and this time, changes his direction, hits that spot inside of you head on with his cock and you think you’re going to pass out. You become lifeless under him, unable to do anything but take it. The wave of your orgasm builds and builds and builds until finally, it breaches.

You come for a second time, no noise coming out of you. It’s all white vision and squeezed thighs and ringing ears. You think you feel something like a bolt of lightning, a snap of power so strong as you clench around Seokjin that you taste static in the air.

It’s hard to know how long it lasts. One moment you’re shaking and the next, you’re drifting, feeling weightless and exhausted. The weight of Seokjin’s touch keeps you tethered and from straying too far, but you’re somewhere in between nonetheless.

Slowly, reality drips back to you. You think you may have dozed a little, your eyes dry as you blink them open. Seokjin is lying next to you, arm wrapped around you and eyes closed. He’s not breathing deep enough to be asleep, confirming it when his eyes open, sensing your gaze.

A smile lights up his face and you smile tiredly at him. Your cunt aches and your legs and arms are sore from being pinned, and you’re still a little shaky. Thoughts of your orgasm make you twitch, post-sex tremors that you can’t escape.

“Hi,” you rasp. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I think you blacked out.”

“I- what?”

“I sort of…” he frowns. “There was like this electrical snap when I came. You clenched me so fucking hard I just… let go. I think we sort of had a magical orgasm.”

“A magical orgasm.”

He grins. “Just say thank you for the witch orgasm.”

“Ugh.” You smack his chest and he laughs hoarsely.

It did feel like that though. Like a crackle of energy, like being struck by a storm of electricity and heat. You feel tired and heavy-limbed, but you feel sticky and sweaty too. “I need a shower.”

“Mhmm. I was waiting for you to come to.” He starts to sit up. “Come on, I’ll shower you. Then we need to sleep. We have to prepare you for your big day.”

“My big day?”

Seokjin grins as he reaches a hand for you. There’s a spark again when you touch and you hesitate, feeling the well of his magic there. It hums in him, a thunderhead of power and fire. He sees your expressions and softens. “You can’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Baby, I just fucked the everloving shit out of you and you know what you didn’t do?” Your brows pull together and he smiles. “You didn’t pull an ounce of my magic from me. I think you’re a lot better at control than you think you are.”

Licking your lips, you nod and let him pull you from bed. You are good at control. You had to be after your sister. It’s something you’ve practiced nonstop, the unconscious control of your desire for magic. Even when you sleep, you wake up often, fearful of losing your grip on yourself while you slumber.

It hasn’t happened yet. And as Seokjin leads you to the shower, you think… maybe it never will. Especially if the ritual goes right. Especially if you can get your magic back.

Perhaps for the first time since you were thirteen, you feel a sliver of hope. When you look at Seokjin and you feel your heart stutter, you know that even without your magic, you’ve found something.

“Oh for the love of the land,” Yoongi groans when you appear in the basement of Seokjin’s home. “Look at the two of you.”

Everyone swivels to look at you and Seokjin, who are hand-in-hand. You freeze, pulling up short to take in the candle-lit room and the six other men who are all looking at you with equal parts happiness and a little bit of amusement.

You shift from foot to foot and chew your lip. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run back up the stairs and away from the watchful eyes of your friends - of Seokjin’s coven members. But Seokjin holds your hand tight, tugging you down the rest of the stairs into the gloom of the room.

Perhaps gloom isn’t the right word. The room is much too warm and smells of sage and thyme, a good feeling if not a little overwhelming. Outside this house, there is an entire festival going on at the park. The covenstead witches were furious when Seokjin let them know that he and his six would not be participating this year, as they had private matters to attend to.

It’s common for covens to use the holiday for something specific. Perhaps to bless a witch in need, or to strengthen a spell, or to defeat some evil. You remember that night that your parents left you alone for Beltane duties to fight and remove Dissenters, and how that turned out for you.

Magic hums all around you. It’s in the sigils on the ceiling of Seokjin’s sanctum and it’s in the ley lines that you can feel now more than ever as the veil between worlds thins. Each member of the coven has magic humming in their veins, a sort of signature taste and feel to it. You sense Yoongi’s deep shadows and Namjoons vibrant green, taste Jimin’s clean water and feel Hoseok’s pure air. Taehyung and Seokjin are the flickering flame that fills the room with light and heat, and Jungkook’s crackling storm greets you in the corner.

It’s hard to imagine where you fit in with them. But they don’t have a blood witch, who is all of these things wrapped into one. You know that they support you. The eight of you have gone over the ritual what feels like a hundred times at this point, perfecting it and making sure you know it inside and out.

The two rituals are wildly different. One to seek and find the source of your pain, led by Yoongi and Hoseok. Yoongi’s shadows and connection to the other side will help seek answers and provide clarity on whatever signs and hints come through the vision you’re supposed to have, and Hoseok’s strength with air will help keep you protected and clear of any negative energy.

Then, a small spell to build a bridge between the two rituals that Namjoon will handle with Jimin. Namjoon has it down to a science and has previously used it to link spells, and his affinity for earth will ground the entire circle. Jimin’s skill with water is to help guide you from ritual to ritual with ease and clarity.

It’s the second half of the ritual that’s the most demanding, which is why it’s Taehyung and Jungkook conducting the destructive half, breaking whatever stands between you and your magic. Two warriors meant to sever your block or the target of your curse, whichever it may be.

And it’s possible that you’re cursed. You have briefly spoken about what that means. About what to do. It will most likely mean something damaging and life-threatening for whoever did curse you, if you forcefully try to shatter it instead of finding the cause.

But there’s also potential for you to be harmed if the two of them try to break it and it’s too strong. It’s a risk that you have to assess in the moment, which is terrifying. You want to do it anyway, and you’re happy to find that they support you. That they’re there for you.

Coven members already, really.

All seven of them are dressed to perform a ritual. Dark robes, anointed element symbols in dark ash on their brows. Yoongi has a small circlet around his head, making you pause and tilt your head as you glance at Seokjin. He sees your confusion and smiles. “Yoongi is our high priest tonight,” he murmurs. “He will start and end the circle so I can be here with you.”

Yoongi is blushing and looking up at the ceiling when you turn back to him. For him to step up and hold the circle as the beginning and end is a huge risk on him. He’ll be providing the most magic and taking on the most risk second only to you, all so that Seokjin can move freer and have more control.

“Yoongi is a very powerful witch, as you know,” Seokjin murmurs, steering you to the center of the room. “He holds circles for a lot of our rituals when we feel he’s better suited.”

“Which is often,” Yoongi mutters at the ceiling where he keeps his gaze.

“Yah, shut up, hag. Everyone get in their places.”

Seokjin puts you in the very center of the room. There is a pentagram chalked in powder, but there is no glow to it, no light to signal that it’s being used. He squeezes your shoulders and you look at him, wide eyed and afraid. His smile is warm and a little nervous, but he leans in and kisses you once.

“Trust us,” he says. “This will be hard on you. But we’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t break the circle,” he reminds you. “If you have to break, do it when Namjoon is at the middle part and before we start the second ritual. He will open the circle a little, but it’ll be just for a moment before the second is started and locked.”

“Right. Ten second escape if I need to.”

“You only have that window if we need to stop. Once we start the second, there is no stopping until the full ritual is complete.”

“Got it.”

“Good luck,” Seokjin whispers and kisses you on the brow. “I’ll be right here.”

With a deep breath, he steps to the side and grasps your hand. The two of you stand alone in the middle, you and your anchor. Silence settles over the room. You haven’t been in the middle of a circle since you were a little girl receiving her first welcome into the coven. You had done that with your sister by your side and your mother at the head of the circle.

Now, you’re with Seokjin, with Yoongi at the head of the circle. Yoongi doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but you sense his calming aura even from where he stands at the first point of the circle. He rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes, lifting his palms upward. “I stand at north, the beginning and end, start this circle, spirit ascend.”

You feel the ripple of magic in the room. Fire crackles at Yoongi’s feet, making you flinch. You watch as the red flames lick toward Hoseok, who is quick and light as he murmurs, “I stand northeast, to cleanse and protect, continue the circle, spirit to the next.”

You watch the flame as it sparks to life, moving clockwise around the room. Every time a member joins the circle, you feel the power thrum through the room, the pentagram beneath your feet beginning to glow. The flame comes all the way back around to Yoongi and he closes it, eyes opening and looking right at you.

Yoongi looks different than before, eyes shadowed and full of stars. “Begin,” he commands, voice like a thousand whispers.

A little spike of fear goes through you as Hoseok begins to chant. You recognize the Latin immediately but your unpracticed ears lose trace of the meaning. It’s picked up slowly in the room and you feel your palms slick with sweat as the light of the pentagram pulses beneath your feet, the flames flickering around the feet of the coven members.

Yoongi’s voice picks up the chant like you’ve never heard him before. It’s uncanny and you lean into Seokjin, who squeezes your hand and looks down at you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “This happens when he leads a circle. Veil is thin.”

Nodding your head, you turn to the front again, feeling the itch to pull power from the circle, to draw their magic into you. There’s so much of it filling the room, an open tap of water spilling into the sink. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, worried that you won’t be able to resist, worried that you’re going to pull from the magic and-

A wave of dizziness hits you. You gasp and bend over, hand circling your middle as though you’ve just been punched. Seokjin’s hands are on your back but you can’t hear him, a high-pitched ringing drowning out the sound of his voice. For a second, you’re lost in the sensation of having the air sucked from your lungs and the whine in your ears getting higher and higher.

Just when you think that your ear drums will burst, the ringing stops. There is a hushed whisper filling your ears and you still can’t catch your breath. The room spins a little and when you look up expecting to see Yoongi, all you see is dark trees and a blurry shadowy… building. Something.

The whispers creep up on you. There are so many of them, hundreds - no, thousands - of voices brushing against you, dragging their fingers along your skin, touching you, hissing, singing, screaming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced and their words are jumbled, sliding over one another.

Terror begins to claw at you. You try to remain calm, remembering that these are not the voices of spirits or something evil. Hoseok is commanding this ritual, an element of purity and guidance. He won’t let anything bad happen to you.

With faith in your future coven member, you try to focus on the voices. Try to decode them. Namjoon warned you that the messaging might be confusing. That you might not follow or understand what it’s saying. Symbols, images, key words. You need to reach for anything that seems like something, that can point to the origin of your block and follow it.

Yoongi’s presence presses at the back of your mind. It startles you at first, to feel who you know is innately Yoongi. You follow the press of whatever he’s doing and you catch a few words that fly by you: little hut little hut. Little hut little hut. Little hut little hut.

Unsure what it means, you cling to that. Little hut. It means something… you remember something about it. Yoongi’s presence fades away, satisfied that you’ve picked up on whatever it is he sees or senses.

Flipping through memories, you try to remember why a hut might mean anything to you. There were no huts by your town… nothing that you can remember no one you know of.

Little hut, little hut.

One memory sticks with you. Your sister playing in the background, hopscotching to a little tune that Mila down the street whispered to her about a witch in the woods.

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Yes, you think. A rhyme about a witch who lived in the woods. More thing than witch, really. A shadowy being that took the shape of a hut, a creature of magic and curses that could be found in the darkest part of the woods when the veil is thin.

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

You see it now. The blurry shape of a house that’s not really a house. The witch in the wood was a blood witch once, it was said. A witch who had long since dissented and practiced arcane magic, following a path that led her here. That led her to this. A thing of the woods.

It occurs to you the weight of the appearance of her. This hut in the woods. Yoongi’s flippant remark about you being cursed is suddenly real.

Dread drops down in your stomach like a weight. You can’t hear anything beyond the rhyme, the chant to find the witch of the woods. You’re cursed, you realize. All the fear that your condition was self-inflicted, that it was your fault, that this was something you did.

This is something that happened to you, Seokjin had said.

And he was right. Someone cursed you - did this to you. A child.

Out there in the world, there is someone responsible for the death of your sister. Someone who took your magic, who turned you into a leech. The reason for your family's pain, the reason for them throwing you away. For your father and mother being driven mad, for the town turning against you.

You think about the rock that hit you just days ago. Thrown by a child taught to hate you. Taught that it was okay to hurt you because it was you. The town siphoner. A witch who couldn’t make her own magic, a parasite.

Anger wells up inside of you and you latch onto the rhyme swirling around your head, clawing through it. This is the thread you must follow to find your curse giver. This is the clue.

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Dully, you are aware that Seokjin is next to you. You see him from the corner of your eye but it’s not Seokjin at all. Well - not as you now know him. This Seokjin is younger - a teenager by the looks of it. He’s not doing anything except staring out into the darkness. He fades in and out like a bad TV picture, glitching and blurring. But you know it’s him.

His face is different though. Twisted in grief and pain, a frozen picture of angst. You imagine this is what you looked like when your sister died, a tableau of hurt and hate.

Little hut, little hut

I call to thee

Little hut, little hut

Come to me

The Seokjin in front of you fades away. You reach out for him but your hands cut through empty air and darkness. He’s not really there and you have a hard time grasping the meaning of this. The voice sounds almost like Seokjin but not quite. Not as mature.

Young Seokjin doesn’t show up again. You can feel the real Seokjin somewhere in the mess of the vision and the darkness, but you can’t hear him. Can’t see him. There is only the omnipresent darkness of the hut and the whispers of voices.

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

There’s a flash of lightning. A storm in the darkness, splashes of purple and blue electricity. You cover your eyes as you hear thunder, low and soft somewhere. Across from you, your sister appears. She’s a fraternal twin who looks nothing like you except in the eyes. Your eyes look right back at you.

She’s the same age she was when she died. When you took her magic away. When you were cursed. She looks the same age as the apparition of Seokjin, and you try to understand. To make the connection from what you're seeing as the lightning lances again like it did that fateful night.

The rhyme keeps circling in a hurricane of whispers.

As the ritual comes to a close, the vision begins to fade. You’re no better off than where you started and in a panic, you reach for the vision of your sister. You just want to hold her one last time, to feel the warmth of her skin.

But she isn’t real and she fades as Hoseok’s chanting falls to a murmur and then to a whisper, the air returning to normal. You can breathe again, and as you look up from where you’re bent over, you see Seokjin kneeling on the ground in front of you, holding you by the shoulders. His face is swimming with fear and concern, gaze searching.

Seokjin looks so much like his younger self. He’s matured into his face and is a handsome man, but he was a cute teenager. His face now is full of love and concern, but you think about his face in your vision. Twisted in pain and years.

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

You straighten up suddenly, knocking him over on his ass as you do so. It feels like you’ve been slapped as you stare at him, a sudden buzz in your ears as you stare and stare and stare. The ritual comes to an end and Namjoon opens the circle - a foot in the door, more like - and begins to start his spell for Taehyung and Jungkook to weave the new ritual into the circle.

Without thinking about it, you dash for the edge of the circle. Seokjin yells but you’re fast, surging between Namjoon and Jimin where the door exists. Namjoon’s head snaps to look at you, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Close it and close the circle,” you pant.

“I-”

“Close the fucking circle!”

Seven pairs of eyes look at you then. They hesitate for a moment, the flames around them wavering. You can feel the power licking at their heels and something like rage shudders through you. You don’t know where to channel it yet and you begin to pace as Namjoon recloses the circle and turns to Yoongi.

Slowly, Yoongi begins to finish the ritual. They work backward from Yoongi to Jungkook to Taehyung to Jimin. You don’t look at them, wringing your hands as you pace back and forth, heart reaching a wild beat.

Images fly by. The hut, the whispers, Seokjin’s face, the thunderstorm, your sister.

The narrative isn’t straightforward. You don’t quite understand the rhyme, or its function, but the second half sounds bad, sounds perhaps like a plea. A bargain. A need for a curse. You recall the thunderstorm on the night of Beltane, the way your sister watched with wide eyes while you sought her out. You think of Seokjin’s affinity for fire and storms, the way he can command thunder just by being upset. You think of his face, so full of pain and hate.

Finally, they finish the circle. Seokjin rushes to you, hands outstretched and a question on his mouth but you jerk away from him.

“Did you curse someone?” you demand, making him pull up short. He opens and closes his mouth. The silence in the room is deafening. You can hear your own heartbeat, pulse throbbing in your ears. “Seokjin, did you curse someone?”

“I… what does that have to do with-”

“Little hut, little hut. Hear my strife. Little hut, little hut. Ruin this life.”

Three things happen then. The first is Seokjin’s confusion as he shakes his head, lost as to why you’re repeating a rhyme back to him. Then a flicker of memory followed by the drain of color on his face. He straightens up, blanched and shaking his head back and forth as he takes a step away from you.

“No,” he says and takes another step back. “That’s not right, I didn’t curse you.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t curse you,” he says again. He seems lost in it though, like he’s saying it to himself. Yoongi takes a step toward Seokjin and he holds out a hand, warding Yoongi off. “I cursed the witches responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t curse you.”

“You cursed someone?” Taehyung hisses from across the circle. “And you never thought to mention it in preparation for this?”

“Shut up, Taehyung,” Seokjin snaps. “I didn’t curse her. I did go into the woods that night to find the hut witch and I cursed the people responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t even know you then.”

“Did you give a name? What did you say?”

“I didn’t know their names!” He answers, frantic and looking at you pleadingly. “I didn’t - no. I remember it, I shared my blood with her, to show the memory. I saw their faces, but I didn’t know their names. We were -” his voice cracks and he clutches his hands against his chest, tears in his eyes. “I was so afraid when they came. We’d been going from town to town, trying to get away. My parents wanted to go back home, overseas. We just had to get there and then these witches, they came and blew down the door and they killed them.”

“So you cursed them based on a memory?”

“Yes,” he insists. “Baby, I didn’t curse you. How could I? How would I?”

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life

“Seokjin.” You say his full name, voice ringing and calmer than you feel. Your stomach is in knots and you feel your mouth water, hinting at the nausea working its way up your throat. “Did you ask the blood witch in the hut to ruin the lives of the witches who killed your parents?”

“Yes.”

“Were your parents Dissenters killed on the night of Beltane?”

A long stretch of silence takes up the space between you. You stare at Seokjin and he becomes a stranger. Become another person on the street that looks at you with hate. Another face in the dozens of the town who don’t care if you exist.

When Seokjin says nothing, it says everything. The final piece of information slots its way in and you feel like you’re going to crack open like an egg and spill out. Gooey and yolk-yellow.

“That was why there was a storm,” you whisper. “Because you were angry and upset, wherever it was that you were. And you cursed my family. Not my parents. Our entire family. That’s why I lost my magic and siphoned my sister to death. That’s why my parents were driven to madness and their eventual end. It’s why everyone hates me. You cursed me with ruin.”

“I…” Seokjin shakes his head but can’t make the words come out.

There is no way out now. You get everything picture perfect for the first time. It’s the perfect curse, really. Driving your family to ruin in different ways. Pushing you, the final member of the family, to the person you would eventually fall in love with, to the person that cursed you.

You can’t break it. Not knowing that it’s most likely at the cost of Seokjin’s life. Giving his blood to the witch was a terrible thing. She used it to cast the curse and likely to bind it to him. Which means if you want your magic, you must kill Seokjin.

Instead of standing there to consider the possibility, you turn and run. He tries to run after you but someone stops him. He has his coven to comfort him for what he’s done and you have nothing and no one. Just how you started.

Your runaway is messy. Tripping over thresholds, slipping down stairs. Night stretches over the world and the air is thrumming with energy. You think it would be so easy to tap into, to take and take and take the magic around you that echoes from the Beltane festivals. Would anyone even notice if you took a little?

Still, you don’t. Hot tears blind you as you stumble into the woods behind Seokjin’s house. It’s not the best shortcut when you’re distraught and overcome with tears, but you think you can get to your apartment building by memory alone.

Around you, the world grows darker and quieter. Eventually, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and sniffling as the tears freefall. Something prickles on your skin and you slow your tangled escape to look around you.

The woods are unfamiliar. At least, they seem darker and hazier, like you’re somewhere that looks like the woods behind Seokjin’s house but isn't quite right. You’re more careful as you move forward, one foot in front of the other.

A breeze cools the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, feeling more like a finger running down your spine than the actual wind. A whisper of noise wisps by you and you stop, frowning. Trying to grasp the words as they float by, indiscernible.

You start walking again, following the sound of a voice that is always just a little too far ahead. A little too soft spoken for you to make out the words. When you do manage to catch up, you hear a soft little rhyme.

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Something like a high-pitched wail rings out behind you. Your limbs lock and goosebumps explode over your arms and legs as you slowly crane your neck to look in the direction that you came. There’s no clear path, just tangled trees and darkness.

A soft buzz tingles along your skin. You sense the magic, static that you can’t hear but you can feel and taste on your tongue. Slowly, you turn back to face the direction you’re walking. There is a tiny little stream in front of you, trickling and black.

Carefully, you step over it. Your hands quake. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck and your upper lip, your mouth trembling as you see the vague shape of a hut. Or perhaps it's just the idea of a hut, with a hole for a door that looks endless. Void. Dark.

You think about your sister. See her face swimming in front of you, so full of life. Then it drains of color as you bleed her dry and steal everything from her. Every drop, turning her from a beautiful girl full of the sun and the sky into a husk.

You clench your fists.

Vengeance can’t bring her back. Vengeance can’t make them love you. But it can take away this fucking hurt inside of you, the pain that you have carried for so long that it feels like a wound that will never close. So you decide to take a page out of Seokjin’s book.

“Little hut, little hut,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Feel my ache. Little hut, little hut, make him break.”

#seokjin smut #jin smut #jin bts smut #seokjin angst #jin angst #jin bts fanfic #seokjin bts fanfi #kim seokjin smut #jim seokjin fanfic #jin x reader #jin you #minors dni #minors do not interact

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mystic-deep · 3 years

Text

"Sensei said girls love swans." | Okkotsu Yuuta x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Just a small box of chocolates, bought on a whim, gifted for no apparent reason. Or so you say.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, good bad advices from Gojo.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: I'm working on three other stories with Nanami, Gojo and Toji but had to write something for best boy Yuuta. We're getting volume 0 animated! This was done at the speed of light so please forgive any errors.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.29 k

Valentine’s Day was quite a surprise this year. You didn’t expect the world to just revert back to old habits so soon, but then again you understood the craving for what was once considered normal. More than a year had passed since the Shibuya incident and with Gojo Satoru finally being released from his prison, things were slowly calming down.

Two major changes came as a result of the near annihilation of Tokyo, one was that now the world was aware of the existence of curses and two was the high number of people that had awoken cursed energy. What were once empty classrooms and training grounds of the Jujutsu Tokyo High School, were now filled with first year students ready to learn from the best. Although the older generation was composed of just a handful of students, they were really the top of the Jujutsu world.

All of your senpais were impressive in their own right so all of them had gathered quite a following of first years. The most popular, by far, was Fushiguro Megumi, the one that possessed the Ten Shadows Technique of the Zen’in clan. A lethal combination of looks, power and status, or so your classmates claimed.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the third year Okkotsu Yuuta. He was a rare sight on campus and whenever he was present he didn’t interact much with any of the first years. The first time you’ve met him was during a group mission where he was there to supervise. The curse ended up being a special grade and if Yuuta hadn’t jumped in to help you, you’d all be dead. You still remember the bitterness of your classmates when he offered his feedback. Clearly he was right on all points but he didn’t honey glazed any of his words. That incident had caused a string of nasty rumours to spread and everyone in your class began to avoid him as much as possible. You guessed no one was in a hurry to offer him any gifts today.

As for yourself, you tagged along with some of the girls from your class as they chose the best chocolates for their favourite senpais. You didn’t have anyone you really wanted to gift them to, so you bought a small box purely for selfish reasons.

You headed back to campus and as you approached the training grounds you noticed that a small crowd of students were already gathered there. In the middle of them stood Megumi whose arms could barely hold the large number of gifts he had received. The deadpan expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“You girls better hurry, Megumi-kun looks like he has reached his limit.”

Turning around you were greeted by Gojo who was also carrying quite an impressive quantity of Valentine’s gifts.

“Sensei is really popular.”

“Please don’t sound so surprised.”

As your little conversation went on, your friends quickly abandoned you in order to join the crowd.

“Not gonna join them?” You shook your head as your hands tighten on the handle of your backpack where your box of chocolates was hiding.

“I didn’t buy any chocolates...I mean I did buy chocolates just not for...I should probably head to class.” Feeling too ashamed to admit your selfish purchase, you hurried down the path to the main entrance before Gojo could question you further.

Just as you were about to reach your destination you suddenly noticed a figure not too far from you. Yuuta was strolling along the same path and his expression was not a happy one. Your earlier guess must have been correct judging by his slumped shoulders. Now you never truly worried yourself with his well being, but it just felt so incredibly unfair that he was marginalized like this. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t easy to talk to, he was a responsible senpai who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to help others when needed. With that thought in mind, you quickened your pace and called out to him.

“Okkotsu-senpai! Okkotsu-senpai, please wait!”

He stopped in his track and turned to look at you with a surprised expression.

“Y/n-chan, are you okay?”

You nodded as you caught up with him, impressed that he even bothered to remember your name, and opened your backpack to retrieve the box of chocolates.

“For you senpai, Happy Valentine’s Day!” You gave him the most sincere smile you could muster and handed him the small box. Oh well, better for your cavities you suppose.

With a trembling hand he took the small gift and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! I’ll treasure it!” It was just a box of cheap chocolates, you thought, definitely not worth the excitement.

“Urm I’m happy you like them. Anyway, have a good day, see you around!” You practically dashed to your classroom, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why that silly grin of his made you so flustered.

As you sat down at your desk, you wondered if you did the right thing. You didn’t want him to believe you had feelings for him and you also hoped he didn’t think you did it out of pity. You just thought it was the right thing to do at that time and it was just a small gesture, definitely not worth a second thought.

Or so you hoped until White Day arrived and you found quite a surprising gift on your desk that morning. A large bouquet of roses, there must have been over a hundred. No note though, as if the person that had left them just expected for you to know whom they were from.

You could hear the whispers of your classmates and you shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t really popular, no reasons for someone to give you such an impressive present, so of course rumours began to spread.

As you sat on a bench during lunch break with the bouquet in your lap, you raked up your brain trying to figure out who would offer you flowers.

“Oh no, you don’t like them!”

Yuuta’s voice brought you back to reality and you blinked ever so slowly as you looked at his worried expression. Your eyes dropped to the red roses in your lap and then back to your senpai that was just a few feet away from the bench you were sitting.

“These...these are from you?” Well you did gift him that box of chocolates and this was White Day, technically he was supposed to return the gift. Still, a cheap box of bonbons couldn’t compare to the expensive bouquet that he had gifted back.

“Gojo-sensei said you’re supposed to buy something impressive in order to show your appreciation for the gift you received. I didn’t know what you liked and he suggested roses, he said all girls loved red roses.”

Of course it was Gojo Satoru, it was always Gojo Satoru.

“Senpai, thank you, but this is too much! Those chocolates weren’t really that expensive.”

“No, no, they were pretty good! I ended up eating the whole box! Gojo-sensei tried to steal one away, that didn’t end up well for him.” Good, you thought, he deserved it for unnecessarily complicating things.

“Well if you say so, then I’m happy. I’ve never received flowers before, well my father bought me a bouquet when I graduated middle school but I don’t think that counts.”

“I’ve never received chocolates before, so I guess we’re both at the beginning.” The beginning of what, you wondered, as he offered you a somewhat sly smile.

“I should get these to my room before they wither.”

“Yeah I should probably head to the training ground.” You said your respective farewells before going in opposite directions. This had been awkward to say the least and you were glad it was over.

However, naivety got the best of you. The next morning you were greeted by a large teddy bear that was placed in your seat. Your eyebrow began to twitch as you heard whispers spreading in the classroom.

“Hey is that from Okkotsu? Super creepy!”

“Yeah, poor Y/n-chan.”

“What do you mean by that?” Your patience had reached its limit and with narrowed eyes you turned to look at the girls you heard whispering.

“Don’t you know, Okkotsu curses his lovers!”

“Yeah, he becomes obsessed with them and then they die in mysterious ways!”

“That is literally the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in my life.” Sure, you knew the story of Rika, but from actual reliable sources you also knew that it was a tragic accident that happened when Yuuta was only a child. It was disturbing how they twisted the story just because they were afraid of him.

“If you have this much time to waste on spreading such stupid rumours then I suggest you channel that energy in training. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at grade 4 until the end of days.” As a grade 2 sorcerer yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have looked down on them, but for some reason the way they were acting towards Yuuta was just infuriating and you found yourself becoming quite protective.

You never snapped at them like this before, if anything you were considered quite docile, so the whole class fell silent. You grabbed the giant teddy bear from your seat and stomped towards the door, nearly bumping into Gojo as the later stepped inside the room.

“Where you going Y/n-chan? Class is about the start.”

“I’m going to find Yuuta!” You huffed and walked out of the classroom, knowing full well that you will probably get punished for your actions.

“Y/n-chan is so determined! Everyone, you should have more determination as well!” That was the last thing you heard as Gojo closed the door behind you.

You began your search for Yuuta, trying to ignore the looks that the faculty members you came across were giving you. You must have looked quite ridiculous, carrying that large teddy bear around.

You finally found him near the armoury, and judging from his sweaty appearance you guessed he had just finished training.

“Senpai!”

He looked at you, almost in a panicked way and you quickened your pace so he couldn’t make a run for it.

“Y/n-chan, what-”

“Senpai, this has to stop.” You really didn’t want to tell him your real motives from that day but you also couldn’t let this chain of gifts continue.

“That box of chocolates wasn’t initially for you. I bought it for myself, I only gave it to you because senpai looked so upset. I’m sorry that you misunderstood, it’s not pity or anything, I just thought you deserved it.” You didn’t even stop to breath, you had to let it all out and explain before you lost your nerve. “I’m really happy you liked them but I don’t deserve all these presents in return.”

You looked at him and expected to see anger or disappointment, instead you were greeted with light laughter.

“You’re really cute! Maki-san said not to tease you too much because you’re such a good girl. I guess she didn’t realize how much of a good girl you actually are.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made your heart skip a beat. It sounded almost provocative.

Within a second, he had closed the distance between the two of you and his hand reached to stroke your cheek ever so gentle. Suddenly he was there and you became hyperaware of his powerful presence. You noticed the pretty colour of his eyes, how his hand was just a bit rough and how that small smirk of his made your knees weak and your cheeks burn. You gulped and he seemed to enjoy your reaction.

“I don’t mind that the box of chocolates wasn’t for me. I’m just glad it gave me the opportunity to talk to you.” At this point you felt so bad you hoped the earth beneath you would just crack open and swallow you whole.

“Anyway, you should probably head to class before Gojo-sensei gets upset. Let me get that for you.” He reached for the teddy bear in your arms but you gripped it and pulled back.

“I would like to keep this, it’s a special gift from senpai and I’ll treasure it.” Sure this all began because of a silly box of chocolates but you were also happy that you finally got to see a glimpse of him that not many people got the chance to see. Now that you had a taste of it, you wanted more.

“Well I wasn’t planning on taking it away, just wanted to help you carry it.”

“It’s fine, the whole school saw me already so I might as well parade with it back to class.”

He studied your face for a few moments before his expression turned serious.

“Y/n-chan, do you think we could go-”

“I’d love to go on a date!”

You beat him to it but you wanted to make sure he knew, even before asking, that you really wanted to get to know him better.

“I see, I’m really happy.” His hand reached for yours and gripped it gently. It never failed to surprise you how cool and confident he looked at times and then he did a one hundred eighty and turned into this awkward and adorable mess.

“I must admit this is the first time I’ve asked someone out. I’ll be sure to ask Gojo-sensei-”

“Oh no, please promise me to never ask Gojo-sensei for advice concerning girls.” He was probably laughing like a mad man while giving Yuuta such cringe worthy ideas for your gifts.

“Oh but sensei said girls love swans and-”

“Never!”

#jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuuta x reader #gojo satoru #yuuta okkotsu

143 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: The Confession

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, Super Angst

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Not this time.

Note: Okay, so I told you guys I had an idea and that it was new to me and my blog. TA-DA! I am super excited to see how far I can take this and how I can make this work. I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope this isn’t trash. I have no idea how long this will be, so let’s play it by ear. Tell me what you think. Like it? Hate it? Ways to improve?

Note 2: So we have a series cover. What do you guys think? I don’t love, love it but I like it. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Note 3: I tagged everyone who asked for forever tags and those from quarantine thinking you may like this. If you want off, shoot me a message and it’ll be done. Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive--kinda***

Previous Chapters: 1 |

You didn’t sleep one wink after that. Who could sleep after that? You sat up just staring out to nowhere. When you weren’t sitting, you paced your apartment like some crazy woman. When that became too much, you just flipped the tv channels, never staying on one thing long enough to comprehend what was happening. You were restless, and that restlessness freaked you out.

There were so many times you held your phone and just stared at the exchange in a hyper state of anxiety, wondering if he’d send more. After the final message, though, he didn’t send any more. That should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. You then began to wonder why he hadn’t sent any other messages. You wondered if he was drunk and just saying random things, or if he’d meant to send them to someone else.

By the time the sun was rising, you hadn’t slept a wink. You were wired, mentally exhausted, and completely confused. You were not functioning normally. It took you forever to get dressed and ready to get out the door. By the time you got to your office, you were almost two hours late. That two-hour push back was not ideal. It meant your day would be two hours longer and you had to work triple time to catch up. Thankfully, the only thing that was thrown out of whack was your ability to have any breaks. When you finished one meeting, you immediately had to jump into the next meeting or task. You did your best to stay focused, but it was difficult.

Once the time the normal workday was finished, you were still left with so much to do. The event was two days away, and there were so many things to iron out. Every time you were in the middle of one thing in came the memory of the text messages from last night. That resulted in you rehashing the whole thing before you groaned and got back on track only to repeat the cycle ten minutes later. You heard the chime on your phone go off, and terror stilled you. What if it was Chris, you thought. Five minutes of internal turmoil passed before you took a deep breath and dug your phone out from inside your desk drawer.

Scott’s message was a relief. After a few deep breaths, you responded with a straightforward lie.

You thought about if you should tell him all about your last twenty-four hours. Chris was your best friend in the world, but you also adored his siblings. With the amount of time you spent with Chris, Scott was almost always around. They had a close relationship, and through your childhoods, you’d gotten close to Scott too. As you began to type to tell him what happened, you paused and deleted it all. You still didn’t know what last night was. You were too chicken shit to text him back to find out. It was like you believed if you just didn’t acknowledge it, then nothing happened, and nothing would change.

Unlikely, but possible, you thought.

He was right. It used to annoy the heck out of you, but you’d come to accept it. He’d always tried to get you out and moving so many mornings before the sun even rose. You were always the one to refuse and try to hide and lock him out. Nothing kept him out, though; he always found a way in to drag you out of bed.

Highly likely and possible. As you typed it, you screwed your face. You’d come to terms with the fact of Chris being a bit of a—free spirit. You’d been around to see all of his girlfriends, the ones that lasted for a year or more, and even the ones that were just months; all of his flings, and all of his one-night stands. You never judged; it wasn’t your place, and honestly, as long as everyone was consenting, you didn’t care. He was a man with needs. His confession flashed through your mind again, and it swirled with the knowledge of him sleeping around. It didn’t make any sense.

Once you shot off the text, you began to wonder if he was okay. Yeah, there were times he got so busy he just didn’t respond to messages until later but usually if his family called back to back he’d answer. Maybe he was with some girl and too enthralled in their sexcapade that he just couldn’t get around to answering. You began to type a message off to Chris to check if he was okay, but halfway through, you deleted the entire thing.

“Jesus Chris, Y/N. Thirty-something years of friendship, and now you can’t talk to the man?” You groaned in frustration as you dropped your head to your desk with a heavy “thud.” When your phone went off in your hands, you yelped out in the quiet office, scaring yourself half to death.

That was all it took for your heart to begin a thunderous pace. With bugged eyes, you just stared at the flashing dots that signified he was writing a message.

You bit your bottom lip hard, so hard you tasted the copper-like liquid on your tongue. You weren’t sure just what you were feeling, but you knew it was more than one emotion. Feeling like his words were your sustenance, you inched the phone closer to your face and waited as the dots appeared again.

You gaped at the phone as if it were his face. Just what the fuck were you supposed to say? He knew you better than that. He knew that if you didn’t know what to say, you would remain silent. He also knew that if you didn’t respond, you were pissed. Did he think you were pissed?

They came in like rapid fire. He was texting as he thought. He did it often with you. You did too.

Panic set in as you realized it was true. “Oh, fuck!”

It was then your phone began to ring, showing Chris’s face on the screen. Yelping, you accidentally tossed your phone in the air and saw the error of your ways in seconds. As you tried to catch it, it bounced off your hands a few times only to slip through your fingers and bounce on your carpeted floor. When it landed face down, the door opened.

“Are you okay?”

You were frozen half laid across your desk with a look of horror on your face.

“Yeah. I’m—fine.” You did your best to sound as believable as possible as you straightened yourself before you stood to walk over to your friend, Irisa. She bent and picked up your phone, then held it out to you as you approached.

“I don’t appreciate having to hunt you down. We had plans,” she scolded.

You’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to meet her at her place to grab a bite to eat.

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Things have been crazy today.” Irisa rolled her eyes though you knew she’d forgive you.

“The only place we can go now that we missed our reservation is Baltic to take advantage of your forever table there.

“Why are you complaining? You know you love Baltic’s food.”

“I do, but I wanted to try that new sushi spot tonight. God knows the next time you’ll have time for me might not be New Year,” Irisa whined. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you walked back to your desk to gather your things.

Before you put your phone away, you saw another message.

Now he wants to talk. Hadn’t he done enough talking?

Shaking it off, you dropped your phone in your back and turned back to Irisa.

“Why are you so dramatic?”

“Maybe I learned from the best,” she finished as the two of you walked out of your office.

You tried to stay present in the cab while the two of you made your way to dinner. You tried to listen to Irisa talk about her day and the blissful bubble she found herself in with her boyfriend, Callum. You knew they’d make a good match; that was why you set them up. Two years later, they were still going strong. Irisa and Callum liked to tag along with you when you hung out with Chris. You didn’t mind; it was always a good time. Annoyance filled you because no matter what, everything usually led back to him. It felt strange to leave him on read. You were always talking throughout the day.

When you arrived at Baltic, the hostess Bree recognized you and gave you a welcoming smile.

“How are you, Y/N?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Great. You know I love this place, plus I just got a raise.” You high fived her.

“Congratulations. You know this place would crumble without you.”

She laughed loudly and shook her head. “I’m glad the boss isn’t here to hear you say that.” You smiled and allowed her to lead you and Irisa to your seats.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, Bree.” She nodded and walked away back to the hostess desk.

“I still think she--,” Irisa began before you cut her off with a loud, obnoxious sound. You didn’t want to hear it at all.

“Okay, fine, I’ll shut up.”

“Finally,” you joked.

For the next several minutes, the two of you skimmed the menu and got to talking about the plethora of random things you did when you got to together. You never stayed on one topic for too long, but you always came back to those same topics. Everyone always teased the two of you of your scatterbrain antics, but neither of you cared. This was how the two of you worked.

An hour later, you and Irisa were deep in plates of food. Since you’d skipped lunch and all breaks, you were starving, and it was apparent thanks to the multitude of plates that were spread out across the table.

“So, is everything planned for tomorrow?”

You nodded your answer as you tried to finish the calamari in your mouth. “That had been planned for a while now. What kind of planner would I be if I was still preparing twenty-four hours to the event?”

“Girl, a simple yes or no would have sufficed,” Irisa shot back.

She was right. You were still wound tightly thanks to no sleep, stressful conditions, and a particular best friend of yours.

“Sorry, yes. It’s planned.”

“Is Chris making the trip back for it?”

Doing your best to keep a neutral face, you shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t think so. He’s dead in the middle of working.”

“Still, it’s an important day for you. He’s always been there for you. I doubt he’d miss it.”

You thought about her words. She was right. He’d been there for every important event in your life—never missed one no matter what. Thinking back again to his messages and your silence, you doubted he’d come. You shrugged and casually brushed it off.

“If he’s there, he’s there. If not, eh.”

Irisa studied you with a quizzical look on her face. She’d no doubt heard the over flippant tone in your voice and was now putting on her investigator hat.

“You sure you’re okay?”

After taking a demure sip of your margarita, you smiled at her, hoping it reassured her. “I’m good, I promise.”

Irisa studied you for a few more moments before she nodded and went back to eating.

By the time you got home that night is was nearing midnight. You were dead on your feet, and thanks to the six margaritas you’d had, the only thing you wanted was your bed. You quickly stripped then face dived into your plush blankets, pushing everything out of your mind hoping to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.

~~~~~~~

The pounding on the door was what jarred you from your sleep. You rolled and crashed to the hard floor.

“Ouuuch!”

When you snapped your head up and the time on the alarm clock beside your bed came into focus, you screeched. It was eleven-ten. Bolting to your feet, you hurried down the stairs to the front door to let in the hired hair and makeup team and your assistant Aamal.

“We’ve been standing here for almost twenty minutes, Y/N.”

“I know Aamal. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what happened. Come, come in.”

The team of five walked into your townhouse and began setting up. Aamal held out the black garment bag to you. “You’re lucky I called them this morning. You were supposed to get this yesterday.”

“I know, everything is crazy. I forgot. I’m gonna be late. Give me twelve minutes to take a shower.”

You hurried up the steps to your bathroom. You’d gotten good at taking twelve-minute showers and still being squeaky clean. While you showered, you blamed the margaritas you’d had for this predicament you found yourself in now. If you’d kept it at one, then you would have woken up on time, and you wouldn’t need to hurry to make it to the party for twelve. At this rate, you had no idea if you were going to make it at all.

By the time the makeup and hair team began primping and priming you, it was eleven-thirty. You decided to change the planned hairstyle from a sleep updo to a mixture of loose and flowy curls. It would still go with the outfit, but it would take less time to accomplish. Then entire time your foot shook. It was a nervous tick that you’d had since you were five years old, a tick you still hadn’t outgrown. It was a tick only a select few knew what it meant. You were close to losing your shit.

When you were stuck in traffic eight minutes from the venue, it was a little after twelve-fifteen.

“Calm down. No one is supposed to arrive until twelve-thirty anyway. You just like to be early,” Aamal voiced.

“I have to look over the setting and give any last-minute changes.”

“I don’t know who plans their own party,” Aamal scoffed.

You were meticulous and knew what you liked. You didn’t want to hire anyone for something you could do for free. Plus, it gave you yet another opportunity to showcase your knack for this career you chose to be in. You loved it.

When the car finally arrived, you hurried inside through the service entrance and met the rest of your team. As you approached them, you looked around the venue, already pleased with what you saw. The pinks, greens, golds, and other colors of the tropics all went well together. When you had the idea, it was just a few pictures thrown together, and now it was a full-blown tropical luau. A smile spread across your face was the indication your team needed to know that you were happy with the finished product.

“This is perfect, guys. You did well.”

They looked relieved and then overjoyed. As they walked you through the glass-roofed solarium, you took in every palm tree, pineapple, and bamboo hut you passed. It was perfect.

Before you knew it, the room filled with your family and friends, everyone had the same reaction as you. They marveled at the beauty of the decorations and the elaborateness of your plans. You were that planner, the one to bring the elaborateness to life.

“Y/N!” Spinning around, you saw Scott, Lisa, Carly, and Shanna approach you. Once they got close, they engulfed you in a tight group hug. Groaning, you allowed them to smother you.

“Goodness, you’re gorgeous!”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you guys could come.”

“Really, you’re family, of course we’d be here,” Carly expressed with a wide smile.

You’d all grown up together in one way or the other, and you did feel like they were your sisters.

“Your mother and I were making the rounds around the room, and I am amazed at what you’ve pulled off,” Lisa said.

“It’s beautiful in here. I love it,” Shanna added.

“Me too. It is so much better than I pictured,” you admitted.

“You’re so modest. You knew you were going to slay this,” Scott teased. Throwing your arms around him again, you giggled, fully appreciating that he was there.

Aamal approached your side with a wide smile. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve been sent to find you. It’s time for your welcome address.”

“Right. I’ll be right back guys.”

With your arm looped with Aamal’s, she led you through the crowd of one hundred toward the spot you’d decided was the best for speeches of all kinds. As you passed friendly faces, you warmly smiled at them and mouthed your thanks for their attendance. When you looked back up, that was when you saw him in the back. Instantly, you felt butterflies in your belly. You didn’t know what kind they were, though. Fuck, you thought.

Chris wore yet another great suit you knew he’d picked himself. You could always tell the difference between a CEvans outfit and a stylist put together one. You bit your bottom lip; you could feel it trembling. He gathered in along with the other guests but kept his eyes glued to you.

“There you are beautiful.” The familiar deep voice beside you brought your attention from Chris. As you looked upon the smiling face of Jaxon standing before you, the butterflies intensified. Again, you had no idea what kind they were.

“Hi yourself, handsome.” Jaxon lowered his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arm around your hip before he faced the guests.

“Uh, first, Y/N, and I would like to thank you all for coming today to this shower. It means more than you all could ever know. Um, each of you have impacted us as a couple in some way or form, and we want to thank you for your friendship, advice, and support on the path to us getting here. Let’s raise a glass to each of you; you have our eternal gratitude. Here, here.”

Everyone repeated the words before they took a sip from their glasses. Before anyone scurried off, Jaxon turned to you.

“And to my beautiful, kind, loving, and immensely sexy fiancé, the day we met, I knew the second you shook my hand that you’d be my wife. I was always told that when a man knows he’s found the one, there would be no doubt in his mind, and I’m happy to attest to that being fact. You are my future, my destiny, and my home. I love you so much. Thank you for agreeing to become Mrs. Pierre.”

Everyone around you awed and clapped. You tried not to feel self-conscious, but you couldn’t help it. Jaxon lowered his lips to yours, quickly setting the tone for the kiss as he delved his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, sensing his intent, but like always, you quickly got caught up in his kisses and kissed him with a fraction of the passion he kissed you. The cheers and yelps around you had you pulling away before Jaxon got any ideas.

“Enjoy yourselves, everyone, eat, drink, party,” you exclaimed, hoping to douse the rising humidity in the room.

One look at Chris in the back of the room, and you could see the storm on his face and recognized and knew it well.

He was pissed.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @surmya1907 @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @starlite-starbite @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @jovanaprime @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @likesfairytales @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @produtofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ @ljstraightnochaser @priya212 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @miss-jackson500 @jd-now-jq @renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @brwnsugababe @richonne4life @evansshine @munteanhore @spideydobrik @laketaj24 @munteanhore @chris-butt @priya212 @euh-say-what-now @richonne4life @brownskinafro @chrissbabybunny @night-of-the-living-shred @simply-heaven @chaos-crusader

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

#the confession fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 4 years

Text

Only Mine Pt. 2

A/N: Part 2! I’m really sorry if there are any grammatical errors. I haven’t updated in a bit, wanted to give you guys something, so I haven’t really proof read... like at all. So yeah, if there’s some weird mistakes it’s that. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word count: 2339 Warnings: Implied smut, a few curse words (I think one, tbh)

The Grammys. An artists dream award.

To even be recognized by the Grammys was already a huge deal for any singer, songwriter, or band. But to be nominated for 10 awards? That was a whole other ballgame.

That’s where you stood tonight though. On the large red carpet in a formal ball gown, an off shoulder look with a slit next to your leg, and it was a beautiful emerald green color, Gerard next to you in a solid black tux. Usually he would say no to these events, but it was you. And this could have been the night you received your greatest accomplishment ever, so he was not going to miss it for the world.

Just like Gerard had predicted, My Midnight Boy was an absolute hit. Many were already considering it the album of the decade, and was placed on to Billboard Top 100 at #1 for over 12 weeks, with over half of the songs reaching the top 5. While that was exciting for so many reasons, a lot of other things in your personal life took a 180. For starters, paparazzi were everywhere. Anytime you or Gerard walked out of your New York apartment, a line of at least half a dozen paps were suited with large cameras to take as many photos as possible. When the two of you were together, there were usually 20. So naturally, you both had to hire security. It was never a decision that you wanted to make, it was one that needed to happen.

Next, your band broke up. Apparently, the boys there couldn’t take your individual success and broke up in a screaming fight which left you crying in a studio, and Gerard having to come and console you for a few hours, reminding you that they left because they couldn’t handle your fame and success.

Your fandom also grew immensely, which was great. You loved scrolling through your Instagram and Twitter everyday, only to see hundreds of fans show off your merch. Some even had Y/N Y/L/N themed parties, rooms, and costumes. It was all so overwhelming, in a good way.

You and him had both done numerous interviews at this point. You were especially glad that Gerard was being asked about My Chem, and not just you. And the questions that did come about you, he would always have the sweetest most genuine answers. “She’s honestly the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend and fiancee.” “She’s a musical genius, honestly. She’s way smarter, way more beautiful, and way more talented than me. Which I’m okay with because she deserves and has earned everything she has.” “She surprises me everyday. She has new, crazy ideas for music. And they all work. She just makes it work.”

And every time you would stand off with a huge smile and even more prominent blush on your face. Finally, at one point, you were asked about Gerard. After all, it was pretty well known now that “My Midnight Boy” was, well, Gerard.

“He’s honestly the best man ever.” You smiled and looked over at him as he just smiled, “I wouldn’t have written as genuine, and heartfelt songs about anyone else. He just makes me feel every emotion, and he’s the one who brings out the best me. He’s my number one supporter, and he always reminds me of that. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect person to spend the rest of my life with.” You could feel your lover squeeze your hand in a small gesture of thanks. You both smiled, departing from that interviewer where your manager met you at the end of the carpet.

“You both did great.” He smiled, “Now the official show starts in about 20 minutes, so they’re beginning to urge everyone to take their seats. Since both of you are done with interviews, it’s probably a good time to head in.” The two of you nodded, being led into the auditorium where you were seated in the first row. Best of the best.

You had an insane amount of people, stars who you had never even dreamt of meeting, coming up and introducing themselves, starting small talk about just how incredible your album was.

You were quite overwhelmed by everything, being at the Grammys hadn’t really sunk in until you were actually there. Gerard could tell, pretty easily, and simply placed his hand on your knee, giving it a lightly squeeze. “It’s okay, sugar,” He whispered into your ear, “You’re doing great.” You gave him a tight smile, him returning one back.

Only a few minutes later, the awards started. You had to admit, it was less glamorized than what seeing it on TV made it out to be. Of course the performances were great, but the moments of complete boredom during commercial breaks and such made you realize were so many stars had complained some about the Grammys.

“After this,” You yawned during once of the breaks, placing your head on Gerard’s shoulder, “Can we go home and eat get some Chinese take out?” “Whatever you want, love.” He kissed the top of your head. You and him were not into much PDA, so anything beyond a hand hold or kiss was a lot.

“And a movie?” You asked next and he smiled.

“Of course, darling.” You smiled back, picking your head back up. The show restarted, both of you sitting back up as they continued going through some of the smaller categories, finally hitting the large ones.

“Next up, we have song of the year.” The two announcers smiled. They went through a list of artists along with their songs, Ariana Grande, Beyonce, and a few more were included, “Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N.” They said and you smiled, Gerard next to you smiling as well as the cameras flashed to the two of you.

“And the award goes to...” It took them a few moments to open the card, your heart beginning to race. You grabbed onto Gerard’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and him squeezing back as your eyes went wide in anticipation, breaths caught in your throats.

“Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N!” You heard cheering as you let out both a breath and a huge smile. You stood up with Gerard, who was already standing and clapping as you gave him a hug, him immediately hugging you back and giving you a kiss on the lips as the cheers continued. You only stayed for a few seconds before smiling at him again, and running up to the stage to the best of your abilities.

You hugged the two announcers as they handed you your very own Grammy. You looked at it only for a brief moment, holding it while you walked up to the mic. “Okay, so this is absolutely insane.” You sighed as a few people began laughing. “This is my first Grammy ever, and to even be able to be nominated for something like this was enough for me. But winning is beyond my wildest dreams.” You took a brief pause to actually breathe, “I want to thank all my friends and family who let me follow my passions and dreams of being a musician, I would like to thank my wonderful fiancee and muse who, without him, this song and no other song on that album would have been written. And I would like to thank every single fan who has stuck by me through thick and thin. You guys are what keeps me running every day and give me motivation to keep pushing my music further even when it may seem like I can’t, or it’s impossible. This is just so crazy, but thank you everyone!” You smiled as the cheers re-erupted, the trophy being taken away from your temporarily.

You found yourself right back in your loving fiancees arms before sitting back down. “You just won a Grammy.” He sat in awe and began lightly laughing, “You just won a Grammy!” “I know!” You responded, too in shock. “I really hope you do realize I couldn’t have ever done it without you though.” You smiled at him.

“Oh, please,” He scoffed, “You’re a musical genius. You could easily do anything without me.” “But you’re my muse!” You defended.

“Which is extremely flattering, thank you.” He gave you a peck on the lips, “But seriously, you deserve every inch of that award. You worked hard for it. You deserve it.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” “Oh, not nearly as incredible as you darling.” By the end of the night, you had managed to do what almost no other artist had done. Won 10 Grammys in one night.

You stood on the large red carpet, dozens of Grammy logos behind you as you yourself held 10 trophies, stacked on one another, up to your chin. You smiled at all the cameras, flashing from a million different directions, your name being yelled over and over as they tried to get your attention.

Finally, you got the okay to walk off, a few people helping to retrieve your awards, which would later get your name engraved into them. At the end, behind everyone and all the chaos was your manager and Gerard, who both stood and smiled at you. You ran into his arms, giving him a tight hug as he gave you one back.

“I’m so proud of you.” He smiled down at you, your height difference pretty visible.

“Thank you.” You smiled like a fool giving you a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe it, Y/N,” Your managed spoke, “You did it!” You nodded and gave him, too, a hug. “This is huge. I mean, absolutely huge!” You nodded. “You set a record, you have 10 Grammys, I mean-” “It feels too good to be true.” You commented and he nodded. “Are you two heading to any of the after parties?” You shook your head, “I assumed not.” He smiled, “Which actually makes my life easier because I don’t have to go and monitor either.” You lightly laughed, “Well you two go home, and relax. Have some fun, but not too much fun.” He smirked.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes and waved as you and Gerard went to the back entrance to be picked up by a driver who was taking you back to your LA home.

Gerard opened the front door, letting you in first, and closing it once he got in. You slipped off your shoes with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna go upstairs, take off my makeup and all.” You lightly smiled at him. “I’ll come with you.” He smiled back. The two of you ran up the stairs like foolish teenagers in love, stumbling from one stair to another before reaching the top floor and running to the master bedroom, Gerard shutting the door eagerly behind you.

He immediately ran up to you after that, giving you a long and passionate kiss. You melted into him, letting him gently push you onto the plush bed. “So we’re on the same page?” You pulled away for a brief moment to catch some air. He lightly laughed.

“Yeah, babe.” He went right back to his assault on your lips, moving down to your neck and collarbone, finding your sweet spot quickly where you let out a loud moan. “Gee,” You begged and he hummed.

“Yes, baby doll?” He inquired, looking up to you from where he continued to plant kisses on your collar bone.

“Please.” Your strained and needy voice sounded.

“Please, what, baby?” He teased you a bit and you lightly huffed.

“Just fuck me.” You said with confidence this time.

“Your wish is my command.”

That led you to laying beside him, your body covered in both his and your own sweat. His arm was tightly wrapped around you as he played with your hair. He gave you a quick kiss. “Where’re you going?” You whined. He looked back and lightly laughed.

“To clean you up, sugar.” He lightly smiled, walking into the en suite. “I don’t deserve you.” You muttered and smiled, pulling the duvet over your bare body.

“I could say the same for you.” He smiled, coming back with a towel. “You’re just too damn perfect.” He sighed.

“Oh, c’mon Gee, don’t lie to you or me.”

“I mean it,” He climbed into bed next to you, “You are perfect.”

“Sure,” You sighed, he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

“I’m going to work my entire damn life to make you understand you’re perfect if I have to.” You placed your head on his shoulder.

“I love you.” You smiled up at him.

“I love you too.” He smiled back.

“Now can we get Chinese food.” He lightly laughed.

“Yes, of course.” He got up, wrapping himself in a towel, “And then watch Star Wars?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah, what else we would watch?” “I don’t know,” He sighed, “A horror movie-” “I don’t like those, Gee.” You whined.

“I know,” He smiled, “That’s why we don’t watch them.” You got up yourself, taking part of a throw blanket to cover yourself as you walked into your walk in closet, grabbing your Star Wars PJs.

“Gee,” You called into his closet, “You better be wearing your-” “Star Wars PJs? Yeah, I know.” He walked out with them on, and you with yours.

“Perfect.” You smiled and he wrapped an arm around you.

“You know I am so proud of you, right?” He looked over at you as you were walking down the stairs. You smiled, blushing and involuntarily covering your face with your sleeves to hide it. “Oh c’mon! I wanna see your pretty face.” He complained.

“Thanks.” You looked up at him lightly, still shying away from the praise.

“C’mere sugar.” He opened up your arms which you walked in as he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “You really are perfect. Too perfect, but perfect.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way #gee way #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gerard #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years

Text

Beautifully Unfinished - 5/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 4,580 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

First Careers.

You quickly make your way down the busy sidewalk, trying to make up for the few extra minutes it took to get out of work. You’d been working for Avengers Publishing House for 3 weeks now, and were loving it so far. Though it was a lot of work and you didn’t really have much free time anymore. You barely got to see your best friends lately, you all just starting on your career paths and slowly figuring out your own lives and new jobs.

Bucky had just passed his bar exam, and had started at a prestigious law firm about 2 weeks ago. You hadn’t seen much of him lately, but you kept each other informed on your day to day lives via text. He was enjoying the new job, but made it very clear that it was a learning curve and very draining work. Going from school life, to the working force was a shell shock for sure. Yes, you had all the book knowledge, but none of the real word experience, so new jobs were a lot to take in at first. You all figured they would be, but not to this extent. But he was happy, and thriving in his career choice, so that’s what truly mattered.

Steve had gotten a paid intern position at the MoMA, it was a once in a lifetime experience and he was over the moon for being chosen for the spot. But he had busted his ass to get it and you couldn’t have been prouder of him or his accomplishments. This was a huge stepping stone for him and his career, and from here more doors would be opened for him, and he’d have many more exciting and fulfilling opportunities in the future. He’d been there for 3 weeks now, having started damn near directly after leaving school.

And you, we’ll you’d been offered a Junior Editors position with Avengers, a very well known and reputable publishing house in Manhattan. It was the first stop on the climb to your dream job, and you were overjoyed with the opportunity to join their team. You’d always loved reading, and at a young age you’d figured out that being a publisher was right up your alley. And now that you had your foot in the door, you’d been entirely right on that thought. But it was a lot of work, late hours and spending your weekends at home and making your way through the stack of manuscripts you’d been given on a deadline.

So you had barely seen the guys over the last few weeks, you’d have the odd small coffee meets on rushed lunch breaks. Or the odd night you’d get together for your traditional weekly BFMMN™ (Best Friend Movie and Munchie Night.) But lately it was less of a tradition, and definitely not weekly. And when you did manage to come together, you’d all usually be out of it and exhausted, so the conversation was non-existent or minimal, at best. You all just being happy in the presence of your best friends, even in utter silence. It was better than nothing.

But today, you were all meeting for dinner, going out to finally celebrate your new jobs and your introductions to the working force. And in Classic You form, you’d lost track of time and were now running late. As per usual.

The restaurants sign finally comes into view and you pick up the pace a little, maneuvering through the swarms of people that always seemed to crowd the city sidewalks. But especially directly after working hours, all the people moving to and from their jobs, their homes and various businesses along the streets. Going to meet friends, to grab coffee or just take a leisurely stroll.

You weren’t taking a leisurely stroll currently though, you were damn near throwing elbows to get to the restaurant in a timely manner. You weren’t super late, by any means, but late was late, and awarded you less time with your best friends. Which wasn’t okay, at all. Not lately at least, not with how little you’d seen either of them the last few weeks.

You’d planned this dinner with them a few weeks ago, to make sure you all were free and clear, and wouldn’t miss it for anything else. You’d made the guys swear to set reminders in their phones so no one forgot or made other conflicting plans tonight. Come hell or high water, you were having dinner with your friends, and then the three of you were returning to your place after, for a few drinks and a movie. There was no getting out of it this time, you needed a fun, relaxing night with your guys, desperately.

You reach the entrance to the restaurant and quickly pull open the door, finding a beautiful young woman standing behind a podium. She asks for the reservation name, and you give her yours as you’d set it up. She smiles, informing you that only one other person has arrived so far and then leads you to the back where the table is.

As your eyes scan the room quickly, they land on a glorious head of blonde hair and a large involuntary smile takes over your face. Stevie, you should have guessed he’d be here first, he was always on time, or in most cases, early.

You also shouldn’t have been so worried about being a few minutes late, as Bucky always showed up last. You were positive that the guy treated being fashionably late like it was a dang character trait. He took it seriously, and never showed up on time, not even remotely.

He ran on his own clock and you’d actually lied to him a few times over the years, giving him incorrect early start times for important things, so that he’d end up late for the fake start time, but right on time for the real one. He’d always chuckle the second he arrived and saw the smug and satisfied expressions on yours and Steve's faces at him accidentally, yet strategically, arriving on time. Though you couldn’t pull that trick too often, or it would cease to work, so you had to pick your battles, and only use it in important or dire situations.

You make your way towards the table, and Steve, admiring the unfairly beautiful angle, even if it was the back of his head. But that wasn’t a shock, the guy was gorgeous and looked outstanding from all sides. It was wholly unfair and a rather large piss off, if you were honest, the guy didn’t have a bad angle anywhere. All hard lines, muscles and taut tanned skin. Then his perfect blonde hair and mesmerizing deep blue eyes, he was the walking embodiment of perfection in your eyes, and probably in many other people's eyes as well.

As you get closer to the table, you notice he is hunched forward a little and looking down, and it doesn’t take a rocket doctor to guess that he probably has his illusive sketchbook out. You have always known, from early on, that Steve loved to draw. He took his sketchbook everywhere with him and pulled it out whenever he was waiting, or no one was watching. But you’d only ever seen a few of his sketches, he was very secretive about his artwork. He didn’t like to show it off and the odd time he did, he was always humble yet embarrassed by it. Saying that it either wasn’t finished yet, or wasn’t that good.

You’d praise the artwork every time though, and not because you were his best friend, but because it was genuinely always amazing. He had a real talent, if he could just get over his insecurities and actually show his work off to the world, he’d see just how honest your praises really were.

But he’d always shrink away at the mention of showing people, saying he didn’t draw for recognition, but instead just for him. It was his stress relief and he only drew whatever caught his eye or inspired him that day. Like little snapshots of his life that were just for his eyes, and his eyes only.

You gave up trying to persuade him to share his art with the world, hell, to even just share it with you and Buck. And instead you’d just leave the topic entirely alone, it wasn’t your place to demand anything from him, especially if it made him uncomfortable. Or felt like you were pulling teeth. So you’d dropped the whole art thing completely, and instead just left it up to him to decide what, and when, he shared it with you. And each time he’d show you a little something, you lapped it up with eager enjoyment and locked away the mental snapshot forever. Taking any little morsel he offered and loving it as brightly as you could.

The fact he even showed you anything, spoke volumes to you. Made you feel so immensely special to be one of the select few who got to actually set eyes on his artwork.

“Whatcha drawing, Stevie?” You asked abruptly as you reached the table, pointedly not looking at his sketchbook out of respect for his art privacy. You quickly took your jacket off, hanging it on the back of your chair before taking the seat across from him.

Steve calmly, but promptly, shut the book and glanced up at you, no matter how many times you tried to startle him, it never worked. The guy had eyes on the back of his head, you swear. He smiled at you, before tucking the book and pencils away in his messenger bag. “Just the things around me. Ya know, the usual,” he shrugged.

You just nodded, averting your eyes to the menu in front of you, as you picked it up and glanced over the options. “Sorry I’m late, got tied up at work,” you pause, glancing around the table playfully before locking eyes with Steve and smirking. “But I see the Jerk is keeping up his personally appointed job of making me always feel on time,” you chuckled, and Steve did as well.

“Well, you know him, he always has to arrive last so we can all fully appreciate his outfit choice,” he grins and shakes his head, picking up his own menu also.

You both fall into a silence, it’s not exactly awkward, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. You and Steve have sort of drifted since he started dating Hailey, not so much physically but more mentally. You still hang out as a group, but no longer just the two of you. And you still talk, but no longer as deeply, it’s mainly surface stuff now. Your jobs, your families, your day to day lives.

He doesn’t talk about Hailey with you often, if at all, he keeps pretty mum about her actually. Barely even saying her name in your presence unless he absolutely has to. No lie, you're thankful for that, but also not at the same time, especially since their third date they’ve been damn near inseparable. Spending almost all their free time together, but he still makes the effort to join in on the group stuff. And luckily for you, he’s never once brought Hailey along, he’s never even asked, not once. He seems to understand and respect that your group time is just for your little circle of 3.

But it’s not that she wouldn’t be welcome to join, every once and awhile. You’d suck up your stupid jealous bullshit here and there, if you had to. She made Steve happy, from the small things you’d heard, and could perceive in your childhood best friend. So having her around the odd time, you could deal with, you weren’t a complete asshole. But yet you liked that he never brought her around, for the sake of your heart, but not that he did it for that reason. God no, he still had no clue of your feelings, and to this day, you��d still never voiced them aloud.

You guessed he never invited her more for the sake that you and Bucky were his friends, his best friends, and sometimes he just needed time away from Hailey. Time to just be a party of one, with people who truly knew him. He had his separate friends that he shared with Hailey, and she had her own friends that were entirely her own. It was a mutual thing for them, their own ways to escape and get the time they needed away from each other, so that the relationship didn’t feel smothering or overbearing. Little spaces here and there are so important, and needed to keep a relationship healthy and thriving. To keep it from turning toxic and becoming too codependent, because that was never a good thing.

Plus you figured he kept her separated because the three of you had so much history, that Hailey may have felt left out or like an outsider to, as she wasn’t around for most of your friendship. Nor was she present for many of the big, and memorable moments that you all reminisced about or brought up often.

Whatever his true reasonings were, you were just secretly thankful for them. And for the fact you had your guys entirely to yourself, whenever you got together. Yes, it was selfish, but most humans hate change, and with certain things, you weren’t any different. You were entirely human, after all.

“Works going okay?”

“Hmm?” You hum, lifting your eyes to find Steve studying you now, his focus no longer on his menu. How long was he staring at you? You have no clue. Are you positive that your slightly disheartened thoughts were clear as day on your face, and that he probably saw them all? Oh 100%, judging by the concerned look on his face currently. You clearly really needed to work on your poker face, it had obviously deteriorated in the last few weeks, what with your lack of needing to use it. “Oh, yeah,” you plaster on your signature fake smile. “Work is going great. How about you? How’s the prestigious MoMA treating you?”

His eyes light up, like they always do when he is excited about something. “It’s amazing, Y/N. Everyone has been so helpful and very knowledgeable. I’ve learned more in the last 4 weeks than I did in my entire time at school.” He chuckles, “or at least it feels like I have.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, Steve. I’m so happy you are enjoying it so much,” you smile fondly at him. This one a real smile for once. “No one deserves this experience as much as you, as you busted your ass in school.” You grin cheekily at him, “and I’d know, I was the one who had to drag you out of the library weekly, to force you to eat a real meal.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” He laughs at that, “did I ever properly thank you for single handedly keeping me alive back then?”

You place a finger on your chin as you hum, in feigned deep thought then shake your head. “Not that I can remember. But I take praise and apologizes in the form of baked goods, if you forgot.”

He smirks and shakes his head, “oh, I didn’t forget. Not for a damn second, not when a dozen cookies saved my ass more than a few times with you, throughout the years.”

“That they did,” you laugh, nodding in agreement to his words. “How’s Hailey?” The words slip from your mouth unfiltered and you want to kick yourself. Yet, you are curious how things are with them, you just should have waited till Bucky was here to act as a buffer. Because your conflicting thoughts on the topic of Steve's relationship caused you to do and say the dumbest things when she was occasionally brought up.

You were happy that he was, you truly wanted the best for him. But you still carried this ridiculous torch for him, and it hurt a little every time she was brought up. You were selfishly jealous of her, or maybe less of her, and more of the man she got to call her own. The one man you always wanted that privilege with, but would never get. You knew that, but just couldn’t fully come to terms with it. Maybe one day you would, maybe one day she could be brought up and you wouldn’t cringe internally and feel your heart crack a little more each time.

“Ah, good. She’s good,” he nods, focusing back on his menu. “What looks good here?”

You take a silent deep breath in, your abrupt question luckily not sullying the mood. “I was thinking the Cordon Bleu Chicken Burger sounds fantastic,” you hum, glancing over the options, “but then the Teriyaki Chicken Rice Bowl looks amazing as well.” You groan, “ugh, why can I never just pick one? Why do I always get stuck between two choices, and then literally have to decide when the waitress appears and asks what I want?”

Steve chuckles, “and then you instantly regret your choice the second the waitress walks away.”

You are just about to refute that, but a new voice joins the mix. “But then once the food arrives, she goes on and on about how good of a choice she made. And how great the food is.”

You snap your eyes over and see a grinning Bucky walking towards your table. He takes his jacket off and hangs it on the back of his chair before taking a seat in the spot beside Steve.

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” you defend and playfully roll your eyes at the guys chuckling and shaking their head in disagreement of your words.

“Oh, you totally are,” Bucky reaffirms for good measure.

Which causes you to laugh, “okay, fine, maybe I am. But just a little.”

“Try a lot,” Steve corrects and you sigh deeply, jokingly. Which causes you all to laugh before exchanging your fond hello’s, and asking Bucky the basic life update questions, before you all focus on the menu to make your selections before the waitress appears.

Once the food is ordered, you having once again left the choice to the last minute and then just threw your pick at the waitress like always, the three of you fall into a comfortable and familiar conversation. Taking about the ‘good old days’ and the more in-depth topics.

The food arrives and you all enjoy it, immensely. And once again, you are completely happy with your choice, like the guys mentioned, and your momentary panic for possibly ordering the wrong thing, also like they mentioned, flies out the window. Like every other time, which is so Classically You—as Bucky had pointed out directly after you’d all finished eating. Causing Steve to laugh and you to glare fondly at the large brunette.

Dinner goes well but just as the three of you are paying your separate bills, Steve’s phone rings and he pulls it from his bag, apologizing for forgetting to put it on silent. As was the Rule for group night, that being put in place back in high school when Bucky’s phone had gone off damn near the entire night and he’d ended up essentially ignoring you and Steve to reply to all his ‘fans’ as you’d dubbed them. So you’d implemented a silent phone policy, which basically meant no phones allowed on BFMMN™.

He steps away for a moment, saying it’s Hailey and promising to be quick. You sigh quietly to yourself and stand with Bucky, waiting for Steve to return.

“Hopefully everything’s okay,” you comment softly, slightly irked for the interruption to group night, but also a little worried as Hailey is usually super respectful of your group time. She normally never bothers Steve while he is with you, another thing you are really thankful for. You’re happy he found someone who isn’t overly intrusive or overbearing, she is good for him, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s the truth.

“I’m sure it is, she probably just can’t find the TV remote again,” Bucky shakes his head and his words cause you to furrow your brows and glance up at him.

“What?” You ask confused. Why would she call for something like that? “What do you mean?”

Bucky purses his lips, looking like he just realized he said too much. But why would he feel like that? “Ah, it’s nothing, really. She does it all the time,” he shrugs it off.

What the hell? “Does what all the time? Loses the TV remote?”

“No,” he sighs, scratching the side of his head, it’s a nervous tick of his, he does it whenever he is trying to find the right words. Which only intrigues you more. “Constantly calls him for silly little pointless things. I think she does it to ‘check in’ on him. Make sure he is where he says he is. I’ve mentioned my thoughts about it to Steve, but he just waves them off and says she is just forgetful.”

“Wait, wait,” you put up a hand as if to pause the conversation. “What are you going on about? She doesn’t call all the time. She’s never called him on group nights in the past.”

Bucky gives you a weird assessing look, “yes, she has. Every time, and multiple times per night. But Steve is usually really good with shutting his phone off before he joins us, so that it doesn’t go off constantly while we are all together.” He grins and in Classic Bucky form, he tries to fix the strange awkward atmosphere with humour. “I think you scared the Jesus out of him—or into him, whichever, when you snapped at me that one time for my phone going off all night. Since that night, he’s made it his life’s mission to never be on the receiving end of your cranky outbursts about phone etiquette during group time,” he chuckles. Then jokingly cringes, “You’re scary as hell when you're mad.”

“I had no idea,” you say quietly. Here you’d just finished praising the woman in your mind for her ‘respect’ for group night. When really, that clearly isn’t the case. How did you never know about this?

“I think that was kind of the point.”

“Why does she check in on him so much?” You ask curiously.

“I don’t know. I suspect it might have something to do with you, though.”

“Me?” You quickly ask, “what the hell? Why?”

“She has always had this weird fixation on you, for some reason she thinks there is something more between Steve and you.”

Leave it to Bucky to always give you the real tea, he may not come out and say it right away, but if it ever comes up and you ask him about it, he never lies or avoids the truth. He always tells you how he sees it, how it is, and you’ve always adored that about him. There’s no sugarcoating, and no bullshit, it’s just his own honest opinions on things.

“But we are just friends?” You asked confused, though it’s less a question and more a statement. “What could she possibly be worried about? There are no feelings like that between us.” Which is partially true, from Steve’s side at least. However it’s a complete and blatant lie from yours, but no one knows that—for sure—aside from you. Bucky raises a disbelieving brow at you, but doesn’t comment on your words.

“She seems to think otherwise.” He shakes his head, “But don’t worry too much about it, it’s always been this way and her insecurities are her own. Ya know, since both you and Steve have always been so adamant that you’re just friends.” He pauses, giving you a little side eye before continuing, once again making you aware that he probably does know of your true feelings for Steve. “She’ll either come to realize that, eventually, or she won’t, but that’s on her. Not you. And at the end of the day, it’s between her and Steve, they have to work it out themselves. Don’t stress too much about the things you can’t control.”

You nod, feeling a little guilty for possibly causing an issue in Steve’s relationship. But also slightly irked at the fact you’re just finding out about this now. And at the new realization that she doesn’t come around because she most likely doesn’t like you, when you’ve never done a damn thing to her. Or to warrant her disliking you that much. How fucking rude is that? You may not exactly like her either, but at least you’d suck it up and be civil, you do respect her and Steve’s relationship, and would never interfere with it. Ever. In any form.

Yet, she doesn’t seem to hold those same sentiments, as it turns out, and she tries to interfere with your friend time often. Go figure, you’d have never known that, if it weren’t for Steve forgetting to turn his phone off this time. Before you can think any further on this all, Steve returns looking for a split second like he is exhausted.

But the second his drained eyes meet yours, a light flickers in them and he smiles at you. It almost looks fake at first to your knowledgeable eyes, but you shake your head and ignore that thought as he approaches you both.

“Sorry about that, Hailey just had a quick question.”

Bucky scoffs quietly and you elbow him, giving him a warning look to zip it. “All good, Steve,” you smile at him. Deciding to not pull on this proverbial string for once, because you may not like where it ends up, and you fear that bringing this up to him will only stand to put more of a riff between you two.

“Should we head out?” You ask, glancing between the two guys, receiving nods then the three of you exit the restaurant and head towards your apartment.

Throughout the night, you keep your mouth shut on the topic of Hailey, Steve is never really forthcoming with you about her, and you’re realizing that it’s probably because of her insecurities about you. About your friendship with him, and you can’t be sure of this, but you're willing to bet that anytime you’re brought up, she probably has something to say about it. Or maybe he doesn’t bring you up at all, he’s never been dumb by any means, and he is probably aware of her feelings towards you. And maybe because he filters you out of his conversations with her, he just unconsciously does the same in reverse. Filtering out her from his conversations with you.

Shit, but who honestly knows? You’re so sick of overthinking every little thing in your friendship with Steve, solely because you refuse to ask him about it. You refuse to bring any of it up. But also mainly because you refuse to add anymore stress onto him. Especially this sort of unnecessary and pointless stress.

The last thing you want to do, is to drive him away, or push him away, because he can’t handle the questions and issues from both sides. Do you deserve more answers? Of course. Are you going to press Steve for them? Fuck no. So instead, you’ll just harass Bucky about it later, privately. But Steve will never know any of it, he’ll never know that you know about any of this.

Cause he’s the one that you can't lose. But he’s the one that you can't win.

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

@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #modern!steve rogers x reader #modern!steve rogers #modern!steve #modern au #steve rogers au #Beautifully Unfinished #Part 5

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minervahopebeyond · 4 years

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Blood Daffodils.

I can’t believe this is finally it. 💕We have a few chapters from now on but nothing like this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Please let me know what you thought, I’ll be responding to all the comments✨Ps. I’ve checked but sorry if you find any errors in this one.

Chapter 23: The Battle of Hogwarts (part 2) <<part 1/3>>

Harry couldn’t believe that he was capable of walking away from there. He knew he had to. Parkinson and Zabini would take good care of Draco, cover his back... But he couldn’t believe he was even capable of stepping aside.

The night was a little cold, the sun was still down. Hermione kept helping him up the stairs towards the castle. Ron wasn’t saying a thing either but Harry knew he was dying to stay next to the blond boy as much as he was.

The scene just kept repeating in his head. Voldemort’s words. The sound of Nagini attacking Snape’s neck. Harry had to cover Draco’s mouth to keep him from crying in pain as he heard his godfather being murdered right beside them.

When they heard the apparition cracked they entered. All Six of them. Parkinson and Zabini had joined them as soon as they had seen them trying to get passed the entrance hall and Nott had stayed back to help the order cover the castle. At first he had thought that maybe they were too many people for an undercover mission like it was killing Nagini... Now he was glad the six of them were there.

Draco threw himself over Severus, tears coursing down his cheeks. Harry thought that his heart was going to stop working just from seeing him like that.

“Severus, Severus-“ He kept repeating, trying to get his eyes to focus on him but for some reason the man kept trying to look at Harry. “You are going to be okay. Granger give me the antidote.”

Hermione started to empty her purse, desperate. But the blood was too much and the wound was cursed because as much as Draco tried to close it it wasn’t working. There was so much blood...

“Draco...” Snape’s voice was almost inaudible. “Are you...?” He asked placing his hand in Draco’s chest and everyone understood what he was asking.

“Yes.” He replied, choking on his tears. “Yes, you can’t leave me now. I’m safe, please, I love you Severus. I don’t care what happened last year, you are still my godfather. Please.”

But that was the only thing that he needed to hear apparently, because he turned to Harry again, raising his hand to gesture at the tears that were escaping his dark eyes and mumbled ‘take them, take them all’.

When they fell into the vial, Harry noticed that they were memories. They looked familiar to the ones he had used with Dumbledore last year.

“Look at me.” Snape asked and Harry could still hear Draco crying as he kept repeating the charm to close the wound. “You have you mother’s eyes.”

A soft smile appeared on the corner of his lips before his eyes weren’t really seeing him anymore, they seemed lost.

“NO. No, Severus. Please wake up. I beg you-“ It was breaking his heart. He tried to hug Draco from behind to separate him a little bit from the body because the blood kept on flowing and now the boy was all covered in it and crying in the most raw and painful way that Harry had ever heard someone cry in his life.

The voice of Voldemort was the only thing that interrupted Draco’s crying.

“You have fought bravely, but in vain... I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I, therefore, command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no grater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

Draco turned to look at him. His face covered in blood and with a desperate look in his eyes. He took Harry’s face in his hands, forcing his green eyes to meet his grey ones.

“Don’t even think about it. Do you hear me? You are not dying on me too. He’s bluffing.” He said with a strangled voice but Harry wasn’t so sure he was right about that. “He can’t kill everyone who loves you, there would be no Wizarding World left.”

And with all the blood, the tears, the sweat and the mud, Draco kissed him like his life depended from it. Not soft and kind, not a coming home kiss... It was a raw, desperate, attempt to get Harry to forget what he had just heard.

He felt like there was nothing else in the world that just the two of them right there, and he wished it were that easy.

“Promise me.”

But he couldn’t lie to him. He couldn’t tell him he was going to let everyone die for him because it was not true.

“I love you.” Was what he said instead.

“I love you too. Promise me”

He kissed him again, pouring his soul into it, savoring Draco’s lips, memorizing every inch of his mouth...

“I’ll never leave you.”

‘Not really.’

And he knew he was being unfair because he got Draco to let go and he felt so alone without his arms around him.

“Go, Potter. We’ll stay with him.” Parkinson had said. “You need to get to the Pensieve.”

And that’s how Harry was dead-walking, with his heart constricting in his chest. Moving by inertia. His hand protecting the vial. Wishing that that hadn’t been his last kiss with Malfoy.

————————————

He walked towards Nott. He had told Hermione and Ron that he would be right there with them even though he knew he was lying. That was becoming an habit for him, lying to the ones he loved.

He just couldn’t. His dad and Padfoot were with the Weasleys and if he got to hug them again he would never gather the courage to get to the Forest. He almost hadn’t when Draco kissed him.

He touched the boy’s shoulder and when he turned around to look at him he gestured to follow him outside for a minute.

This was good. This was a good thing.

“What is it? Where is Draco?”

Of course he was going to ask for him.

“With Zabini and Parkinson.” He replied an took a deep breath before asking what he didn’t want to ask. “You still love him, don’t you? You are in love with him.”

Nott’s jaw clenched. His whole body went rigid for just a second but Harry noticed.

“I’m not going to steal him from you, if that’s what you are asking. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is too in love with you, Potter. There isn’t love left for anyone else.”

At this point, given what he had to do, he wasn’t sure if he wished that Nott was right or mistaken. If it was true, he could finally breath and not get this awful jealousy every time he saw them around each other... If it was false, Harry would die and Draco would spend the rest of his life alone. He didn’t want that. He wanted him to be happy. He said that he had feeling for Nott at some point, right?

This was the right thing to do.

“Just- Just take care of him, okay?” His voice was already trembling. “Be patient with him. I’m sure you two can be very happy if you try.”

“Potter, it’s this about the message? Don’t go. Don’t be so bloody stupid.”

“It’s not about that-“

“Draco is not something you can just leave to me. He is a person. He wants you. He chose you.“

And Harry wished more than anything to be the one who got to marry him, who got to kiss him every morning, to say I love you a thousand times a day to make up for all the time they had lost.

But he couldn’t. He was cursed and he couldn’t.

It wasn’t his place. He felt something pulling in his stomach at the thought that it never had been. Not really.

Maybe like this he was just an obscure chapter in Draco’s life.

“I can’t.” He said with his voice broken and ran as fast as he could. He couldn’t let them stop him. He needed to do this. Otherwise, Draco’s godfather would have died in vain, Dumbledore too, and he didn’t even want to think about more people dying for him. He didn’t have the strength.

#drarry #fanfic #fanfiction

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umbraastaff · 5 years

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I’ve just been thinking--it’s about time I make a proper index for my TAZ fics, huh? Also contains: mini-series, ficlets, goof posts, and lyric comics.

(All of the fics are rated G, or T at most for McElroy-appropriate language.)

FICS

I Saw Seven Bounties | Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends, Complete | Mostly lighthearted, episodic recounting of Kravitz and Barry’s rivalry throughout those first twelve years on Faerun. 24K. -->Extras: Lich Eyes, Fantasy Starbucks, Alt POV for Chapter 1 & Chapter 5, Sorry

They Say Fire Took Phandalin | Small-town supernatural/sorta-haunted-house AU | Fresh out of grad school, Barry Bluejeans takes a job and a house in the rural nowhere-town of Phandalin. And it’s not like he thought fitting in would be a walk in the park, but the people there all act really weird, and it’s almost like they’re expecting something of him, too. 11K/~20K.

What Can’t Be Done Alone (Detective Squad) | Canon Divergent, Found Family, Fluff | AU where the voidfish works a little better, and Angus never finds the Bureau. Instead, he finds a strange lich in a cave, and he most certainly continues to work this case and not gradually get adopted instead. 18K/~22K. -->Extras: Drangus AU Oneshot

If I Wanted to be Funny I’d Name This Fic “The Time Belt” | Futuristic sci-fi AU feat. time travel | Taako meets the only people in years who recognize the Institute’s name. Known time criminal Barry Bluejeans continues to evade law enforcement. 2K/??.

Overgrowth / Undercurrent | Roleswap AU, Johnchurch, Pining, Twoshot, Happy ending optional | Overgrowth is a oneshot that follows John, the Starblaster’s chief diplomat, through a series of parleys with Merle, the center of the plane-consuming mass of plants that’s been chasing his crew. Undercurrent is a sequel about their post-canon reunion. 4K + 6K. --> Extras: PLAYLIST by @merle-casts-zone-of-truth

Davenport Remembers | Post-canon, Oneshot | Davenport meets with his crew members to try to reconcile his anger with Lucretia, or to decide whether he should. 1.5K.

MINI-SERIES

AU Where Taako is a Lich - Pretty much what it says on the tin here, folks!

Baritz (ask series) - A fusion of Barry and Kravitz, who took over my blog and answered asks for a while. (He originated in the Gallows/S&S lyric comic.)

Good Adventures (Good Omens crossover) - The Antichrist’s wishes summon the wrong boatful of aliens. Thankfully, it seems they’re apocalypse experts. [with plot-ideas help from @avijohann.]

Omen Zone (Good Omens crossover 2) - Barry is a demon. Kravitz is an angel. Kravitz probably won’t ever admit that they’re friends.

Pokémon: Century Version (Pokémon crossover) - Stolen Century AU where they’re all pokémon trainers. Faerun spin-off: Double Trouble

Till Death, Don’t Let’s Start - Barry fucks up. Kravitz is present.

Very Normal Blog Posts (ask series) - In which Garfield is not at all dangerous, and I am perfectly fine. <alt: chronological link - desktop only>

COMICS & ART

Gallows/Steady and Stronger (Double lyric comic) - Canon-divergent AU where, as the world is ending, Barry gives up to Kravitz. [Image description version]

[Lyric Comics] - Other, shorter lyric comics based on single verses of songs.

Dear Scientist’s Log (series) - Illustrated ship logs from Barry J. Bluejeans.

Movie Madness (Comic) - Barry obsesses over the unforgivable.

Palette Prompts (Arts) - Art from art meme prompts.

Pregananant (goof comic) - You know the one.

REAPER (Comic) - Baritz fuses with Lup.

These Jeans? (Animatic) - Barry advertises jeans.

They’re Both Tessa Thompson (Comic) - Lucretia has a nightmare. Barry reassures her.

War (Goof comic) - prompt: "taakitz with CAT”

What’s bigger than this? - The Red Robe.

FICLETS

Back Soon - Kravitz leaves a note with unfortunate wording.

Bodyswap: Barry & Davenport - During Wonderland.

Casual - AU where the red robe talks like a normal person.

Command - Barry misuses his magic.

Davenport - There’s something unsettling about that butler.

Hangin’ Out - Lup and Magnus.

Harvest - Roleswap AU: Barry is the Hunger.

Healing Necromancy - Merle tries to teach Barry some tricks.

Hope - Barry knows she’s still out there.

How Long? - Taako is frustrated.

In Pieces - The staff.

Liches Forget Too - AU.

Lucretia Forgets - In which there was a mistake with the voidfish ichor.

Lup’s Robe - Gifts from Taako.

Mourning Glories - The flowers in Merle’s beard.

New Years - Celebrations and fears.

Parole - Barry and Kravitz bonding hours.

Phone a Friend - Baritz (the fusion from Gallows/S&S) meets Angus.

Raising the Dead - Barry has to use his crew members’ corpses. [sequel]

Robbie...? - Magnus breaks into the brig immediately after Petals to the Metal.

Second Apocalypse - Based on that one party liveshow. What was the rest of the crew doing, again?

3 Sentence Fics - Pairing + AU prompts.

Smartstone - Lup gets stuck in a Stone of Far Speech, instead.

Stir Crazy - Barry waiting for a new body to grow. Thoughts of Lucretia.

Writing Things Down - In case you forget (again).

You Remember - Taako remembers.

PROMINENT GOOFS

Barry’s Dead - But he’s fine! Calm down!

Character Development - Joke’s on you, DM!

Crystal Kingdom - An absolutely bonkers arc.

Dealer - Merle pun.

Decapitate Me - for making this post

Don’t Care - Taako during the finale. [bonus]

Epilogue - Bracer struggles. [bonus: 1, 2]

Explain the Hunger (Good Omens crossover) - Magnus explains the hunger to Aziraphale and Crowley. They react in varying ways. [with cursed art contributions from @avijohann and @mspainttaz]

Fifteen Dollars - Plus interest. [Bonus]

Fullmetal Kingdom - They’re the same, right?

Gender - And lack of roles.

Gnomes Don’t Exist - They’re all aliens, actually.

Hot Diggity Shit - Been a while.

Icon Confusion - The saga of people thinking my icon is a carrot. [chrono link - desktop only]

Incomprehensible Denim - Jeff Angel’s illegal pants.

In Case it Changes Anything - Taako, Kravitz, and lies.

Irresponsible Teens - Magnus and Lucretia get into trouble.

I Saw Seven Nerds - That’s the post.

Gogurt - Taako’s crimes.

Learning to Drive - i.e. Barry & Davenport Bonding(?) Hours.

Live Shows - The general mood.

Lucretia’s Efforts - A proper meme? On my TAZ blog?

Lup Said No Thanks - That time Magnus was in a tree.

Magnus’ Death - So many close calls.

Nearest Middle-Aged Woman - Clint’s characters’ friends.

Necromancy? - You must be mistaken!

Ned’s Aliases - The Truth.

Pirate Debt - Davenport during that one liveshow.

Punch Squad - SQUAD!

Reaper Cloak - Thoughts.

Relic Names - She probably changed them.

Responsible Necromancy - Good and bad ideas.

Resume - It’s not like they thought it would be relevant.

Schools of Magic - And the Sash was what, again?

Self Care - Respect the dead, please.

Server Shenaniganry (art) - TAAKO THE CAT, NO!

Soulmate AU - Where your soulmate’s greatest enemy is on your wrist. [alt]

Stern’s Truth - You Know.

Taako’s Last Name - Taako’s last name.

Team Composition - The post where everyone wants to argue with me about what qualifies as a wizard.

Third Option - Taako saves the day.

You’re Laughing - End of Suffering Game.

THEORIES/MECHANICS/THOUGHTS

Aloof - Holes Taako refuses to fill.

Barry’s Lucky Possessee - Graphic novel theory hopes & dreams.

Catpiling - Stolen Century thought.

Davenport’s Deaths - Sucks when you always wake up driving.

Death Leaves a Mark - Stolen Century AU concept.

Everyone Else - Some people didn’t get perfect endings.

Fantasy Nonsense - lore about the word “fantasy,” as in “Jesus Fantasy Christ.”

Fragments - Magnus’ memory.

Forgiveness - Old post about the crew’s thoughts on Lucretia’s actions.

Forgot to Erase - Lucretia’s errors.

FULL TIMELINE POST - the Balance timeline.

Gauntlet - (disproven!) Theory about the final relic, from before it was confirmed in the show.

Gnome Nicknames - Thoughts on Cap’nport.

High School AU - Some old headcanons.

Home World Names - The pattern in surnames (or lack thereof) on the IPRE’s homeworld.

Hour - This isn’t a thought so much as an Actual Thing That Magnus Said before the time loops had started, which is absurd.

Idiots in Love - The IPRE’s collective braincell was lost for all of Legato. [2]

Liches, Alone - Being stuck as raw emotion for an awfully long time.

Losing Julia - And subsequent developments.

Love - What was remembered and forgotten.

Love Without Fear - Thoughts on bonds during the Stolen Century.

Memory - Barry actually shouldn’t have remembered anything.

Nickname - Memory of Lup.

Paladin Barry Theory - Converging evidence on Barry’s multiclassing.

Paradox AU - blueprint for 8th, 9th, 10th, etc. Bird AU of your choice(s). (Extra)

Phylactery Mechanics - How liches differ.

Produce Flame - Mechanics of John killing Merle.

Recklessness - THB’s actions recontextualized.

Relic Schools of Magic - They don’t have them!!!

Relicswap AU - Where all the birds get swapped out.

Seven Birds as Gods - Ask-prompt thoughts.

Staring at the Sun - The birds and their light sensitivity.

Story, Song, & Sorcery - Effects on the young population.

Sword Tornado - Magnus Mechanics. [bonus: Time Warlock]

The Good Place AU - A series of crossover thoughts.

Tree Climbing - Davenport shenanigans.

Unique Magic Types - [and combo styles]

What Killed Maureen - hint: it wasn’t Fisher.

#the adventure zone #taz balance #mine #index #there were a fair few in here that id forgotten about too!#god i hope i didnt mess up any of these links

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hyunsukkks · 6 years

Text

Misunderstandings; Hyunsuk

Genre : Fluff, Angst (?) Summary : Hyunsuk’s attempt in finding out if you had the same feelings as him went into the wrong direction. Words : 1,3k+ Warning : A bit of profanity

“Hyunsuk...” You muttered, gazing at the burnt popcorns in dissatisfaction. The pale yellow popcorn blackened and turned into little coals. Worse, there was an awful smell spreading from the microwave. You looked at your best friend with a sign of disappointment, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry; at least nothing else is burning, right?” Hyunsuk grinned innocently and while it made you want to kick him, the sight of his smile melted your anger down. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), maybe it’s because you’re too pretty today,” he winked. You sighed, giving in and placing the popcorns on the counter. That was just Hyunsuk for you. Although he seemed like an intimidating rapper, he was just a little kid inside. Through the years of friendship you’ve went through with him, there wasn’t a time when you were able to resist his smile. If you had to be honest, there was a point where you felt your heart beating at his grin. However, you had to shake off those thoughts right away.

“So what are we going to watch?” You asked, flopping on the couch. “Hm?” He mumbled, smiling subtly to his phone as his fingers tapped the screen in an impatient manner. You glanced on his phone, noticing that he was texting someone named ‘cutie’ with a heart at the end. You frowned, it has been so long since he received a break from his company and he decided to text someone during your sleepover? It irked you more than anything.

“I asked you, what are we going to watch?” You repeated, this time with annoyance marked on your voice. He shifted his head towards you for a second before returning to his phone. “Anything,” he replied absent-mindedly. For a second, you could swear you saw him smirk. Rolling your eyes, you decided on Incredibles 2.

Throughout the movie, the light from his phone irritated you. Although it was disturbing enough that he was texting someone during one of your hangouts, a more disturbing question lingered on your mind. Who was he texting? You never knew he had a girlfriend. Your eyes were on the laptop screen but your thoughts drifted somewhere else.

Slowly, his little smiles turned into giggles. You weren’t sure what it was but something built up inside you. You felt frustrated and upset; the fact that you didn’t know why made it all worse. “(Y/N), let’s focus,” you repeated to yourself over and over in your mind as if you were hypnotizing yourself. Running a hand through your hair, you attempted to brush off your thoughts and focus on the movie.

That attempt didn’t work as planned. As soon as you saw him standing up to leave for a call who you suspected was from his girlfriend, you reached your limits. “Seriously? Hyunsuk?” You spoke, your voice was soft but it was more than clear that you were seething in anger. His eyes widened, as if he wasn’t expecting that reaction from you. “You had to do all that when it’s our first sleepover in years?” You continued, at this point your voice was trembling along with your clenched fists. “I’m leaving,” you mumbled, tears threatened to flow down your cheeks. “Wait, (Y/N)!” You slammed the door, leaving Hyunsuk who was bewildered alone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Weeks after that incident happened, you ignored every single texts you received from Hyunsuk. It wasn’t that you were angry at him. Maybe you were at first but you realized the reason why you were so upset; jealousy. How could you face him when you know that your emotions towards him won’t ever be accepted? “I’ll be fine after I accept that I won’t be anything more than his friend” You mumbled to yourself.

The never ending vibrations from your phone interrupted your thoughts. You were reluctant to respond but the texts wouldn’t stop coming. It was from Junkyu. You tried your best to ignore him but his texts caught your eyes.

kyu ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ : (y/n)!!

kyu ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ : this is serious!!!!

kyu ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ : byounggon is like dying ??? and i’m the only one in the dorm

Worried, you tied your hair into a bun frantically, ready to go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“Junkyu!” You called out his name, standing in front of the dorm. You panicked at the thought of something happening to Byounggon. Knowing Junkyu and how clumsy he was, he’d probably make everything worse. You knocked on the door multiple times hurriedly. The door creaked open and before you could ask where Byounggon was, your jaw dropped. Everything started to connect. You mentally cursed. That Junkyu, he did this on purpose.

“Junkyu isn’t he-“Hyunsuk stopped, his dark eyes matched yours. Before anything else, you noticed how disheveled he was. His eye bags were worse than when he was on Mixnine. His eyes were puffy and you’d be lying if you said that his current state didn’t break your heart.

As soon as Hyunsuk took in that this indeed wasn’t a dream, he pulled you into an embrace. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” he apologized, voice muffled as he buried his head on your neck. Taken aback, you awkwardly pat his back. You hated that your heart was beating at his simple action. “Come in, I’ll explain everything.” He pulled away from you, glossy eyes pleading for your consideration.

You nodded, stepping into the dorm as an uncomfortable silence spread over the room. As Hyunsuk took a seat on the couch, you followed him. Not like usual, there was a space between the two of you. “I know I was an asshole but…” He started, ruffling his hair as he tried to find the accurate words to explain himself.

“Despite me hinting so many times, you’re too oblivious and I didn’t know what to do. I was so fucking dumb and I followed what Junkyu suggested” Hyunsuk continued. You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what he meant. One thing that you knew was that he was frustrated, from the series of profanities.

“He told me to focus on your reaction after I pretended like I was texting my girlfriend so that I could determine if you really had-” He stopped suddenly, as if he was afraid of something. “Like, if you had feelings for me, or something like that…” He mumbled, fidgeting.

At the end of his explanation, he looked into your eyes, waiting for a reaction. You stayed silent; trying to process what was going on. There was a minute of stillness, an unpleasant one minute that seemed like an hour for Hyunsuk.

You hid your face on your hands, hiding the grin that’s creeping on your face. “I’m really sorry; please don’t cry,” he grabbed your wrist as if you were the most vulnerable thing, his voice tone softer than how he usually spoke.

“You’re really an idiot.” You replied. He widened his eyes, confused at how you were smiling wider than ever. “Out of all people, you trusted Junkyu’s love advice?” You asked, chuckling. A smile slowly spread on Hyunsuk’s face, his eyes turning into crescents.

“I was too desperate,” Hyunsuk replied, followed by a single chuckle. The two of you looked at each other in the eyes, more than glad that the misunderstandings were cleared up. You held your laugh to no avail and so did he, feeling foolish after what happened that night.

“So, (Y/N), what do you say?” “What?” “Will you be mine?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Extra:

“You were jealous right?” He giggled, holding your cheeks between his long hands. “No way,” you scoffed, looking anywhere but him. However, the blush on your cheeks didn’t support your lie. Hyunsuk burst into a hearty laughter, leaning on the sofa. Embarrassed, you threw a pillow at him. He let out a moan of pain but his chuckle didn’t end. You huffed, standing up only to be pulled down by Hyunsuk. You ended up on his lap, his arms engulfing your body. “You’re so adorable,” he chuckled, swaying your bodies together.

“See? What we did was right.” Junkyu whispered at a distance to Byounggon who nodded with a huge grin.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: this is my first post hehe! it has been a long time since i wrote so there might be some grammatical errors but i hope all of you enjoyed this uwu

#hyunsuk #choi hyunsuk #treasure box #ygtb #yg treasure box #yg #ygtb scenarios #kim junkyu #bang yedam #lee byounggon #fluff #oneshot #scenarios

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nctzenblurbs · 5 years

Text

Victim Number 30 | Part Two | FBI Agent!Jaehyun x Cafe Owner!Reader

Genre: Crime, Angst, Suspense, a touch of fluff

Word count: 3,617

Summary: FBI Agent!Jaehyun is currently working on a homicide case where 15 victims were found dead within 4 months. Deciding to take up on Partner!Doyoung’s offer for a coffee break at a new cafe where he met Cafe Owner!Reader, fallen in love at first sight. But are you who Jaehyun thinks you are?

Warnings: Cursing, mention of blood, death, murder (nothing too extreme but if you are uncomfortable with this kind of story, i suggest don’t read it)

a/n: Here’s the second part for the FBIAgent! Jaehyun fic, sorry it took too long, i’ve been busy. A little reminder that this part has not been proofread so there could be grammar errors and misspelling. Have fun reading

6 months in, 21 victims and counting, 13 males and 8 females, between the ages from 21 to 57; no clue leading towards the identity of the killer, Jaehyun sighed loudly, leaning his head back against his swivel chair, spinning around a couple of times. Stopping when a knock on the door was heard; you stuck your head in, sending a soft smile towards your boyfriend. You made your way around the desk to wrap your arms around Jaehyun neck. Jaehyun buried his face on your chest, inhaling your sweet scent arms tightly around your waist, bringing you closer to him. You run your fingers through his hair, receiving a delighted groan from the man beneath you. “Take a break, baby” you place a soft kiss on top of his head “You’ve been wracking your brain on this case long enough that you forgot to eat” you left a small chuckled when your received another groan from Jaehyun “This case is driving me crazy” “That’s why you need a break, come on Mr. Big Size, dinner’s ready”

Jaehyun and Doyoung walk through the yellow tape before entering the house; they went upstairs towards the master bedroom. Broken perfume bottles spreading it sweet fragrance but it wasn’t enough to cover the metallic scent, objects scattered across the room, scratches on the floor board from the bedroom door to the bathroom. The two men made their way towards the bathroom, red splashes on the pristine wall, blood pooling in the bathtub where the body was found; Their 22nd victim. Taeyong stood tall in front of the meeting room, making eye contact with each of his subordinates. His eyes lands on Yuta, understanding his boss silent gesture, he stood up from his seat and cleared his throat “Mrs. Bong Young-Hee worked under KRW Enterprise for 5 years as a regular office worker, she was then promoted and work as secretary for the vice chairman for a year. Mrs. Bong and Mr. Bong Yong-Chul got married 2 years ago. We also learned that she was a track star throughout her university years” Yuta clarified with confidence lacing in his voice before sitting back down “The body was found with abrasions on her arms and abdomen area and I found fragments from the floor board under her nails, our killer dragged the victim by their leg which explains the scratches on the floor board and how the victim received her abrasions” Jungwoo explained “The victim then was dragged toward the bathroom and our killer proceed to stab the victim 22 times; 13 stab wounds across the chest and another 9 stab wounds on the victim’s heart and left her body in the bathtub, leaving the scene without a trace”

“22 four stab wounds, 13 across the chest and 9 on the heart” Taeyong scoffed “Seems like our killer is keeping track of their victims” “Mr. Bong was already at work during the attack but he forgot his employee’s ID card and went back home to retrieve it. That’s when he found his wife dead in the bathtub” Kun said “Mr. Bong said he wanted to file a divorce because his wife has been distant towards him, always coming late for work, and she does not wish to carry his child” “Do we know the reasons why?” Taeyong asked “Mrs. Bong committed infidelity with the vice chairman”

A loud sigh left Taeyong’s lips, he leaned his body forward on the table; head hung low “What about the black CR-Z, Johnny?” “There’s a lot of black CR-Z in Seoul, trying to find a specific one without a license plate will take longer than usual to find” Johnny said while stretching his long limbs “Mr. Choi was allegedly seen getting inside a CR-Z by one of the neighbor, but the neighbor could be mistaken the car for a different model”

Jaehyun was sitting across from you; the two of you were having lunch together at an Italian restaurant. Jaehyun had already finished his plate, waiting for you to finish yours as you are a slow eater. You took a last bite of your food asking the waitress for the bill; your attention went back to your boyfriend, sending worried looks as you watched him stir his now empty glass, with the plastic straw “Jaehyun baby, you okay?” Your hand reaching out for Jaehyun’s, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand; Jaehyun sends you a tired smile and nodded his head “Just a little stressed with the case as usual. We found our 22nd victim this morning” Jaehyun explained, looking down at your interlocked hands, failing to catch the unbothered look on your face “is that so?” you replied nonchalantly “what happened this time?” “The killer broke into the house while the victim was getting ready for work, the room was a mess, it was clear the victim put up a fight but got dragged by the feet and stabbed to death in the bathroom” a another sigh left his lips before continuing “I found it strange though” you cocked your eyebrows at him “why didn’t the victim just bolted out of the room? There was broken perfume bottles scattered all over the room, other items were also thrown, there’s a chance at least one of them hit the killer, buying a little time for her to escape and the victim was a track star so she had a higher chance of survival”

“The victims lived in that old neighborhood right? The house there are old designs and it’s common to have doors that can be lock from the outside, especially the master bedroom’s door. The killer probably locked the victim in her bedroom before climbing through the bedroom window” you said as you took a sip of your drink. Jaehyun just stared at you, startled by your words “How do you know the door can be locked from the outside?” Jaehyun watch your expression carefully, he noticed your eyes went wide for a split second; you stopped sipping your drink and slowly place the cup back down “I used to have a friend who lived in the same neighborhood and she stayed in a similar house” you explained softly, before he could ask you another question, hoping to get more details, he was interrupted by a waitress, placing the bill between the two of you. Jaehyun took his wallet out from his pocket to pay but you stopped him by placing your hand on top of his. Your hands were smaller compare to his, however it felt cold. You took the bill in your hand and handed the waitress the right amount of money whilst sending a warm smile at her. Jaehyun couldn’t help but notice a small cut just beneath your hairline.

After dropping you off at your café, he couldn’t help but recalled your words and your expression, it was very unlike you. You always had a smiling face and a cheerful voice but during lunch he had with you, your voice was monotone, the sparkle in your eyes were gone and your face hold no emotion. You were like a different person; he didn’t know you were capable to make such an expression. He drove back to the crime scene to investigate. He shortly arrived at the house, cops still surrounding the area; he showed his badge before stepping inside the house. He stopped just a couple of feet away from the closed door that leads to the master bedroom, his eyes rested upon the golden key in the key hole.

A week later after the lunch with (y/n), he couldn’t shake off the feeling he had. He felt uneasy, shocked at how you seem to know the details of the door being locked from the outside beforehand, and the cut beneath your hairline that day looked fresh. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprise of you knowing about the door. Turns out majority of houses in the neighborhood had at least one door that can lock from the outside. You mentioned having a friend that lived in the same neighborhood so you were probably just stating a fact.

Jaehyun entered the meeting room, surprised to see Doyoung alone, sitting on one of the swivel chairs, spinning mindlessly “You’re early” Jaehyun rested his hand on Doyoung’s chair, stopping him from spinning “And you’re early yourself” Doyong replied before proceeding to spin in his chair again. Jaehyun sat down next to him, letting out a sigh, folding his arms on the table before he lay his head on top of it “What’s wrong with you, trouble in paradise?” He lightly nudge Jaehyun with his foot, earning a groan from the man next to him “I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘trouble’” Jaehyun voice muffled “Come on, spit it out, I could give you some love advice if you want” “Why would I want love advice from a person who bought a mini fridge and place it in their room because they were too lazy to go to the kitchen” “It’s not being lazy, it’s saving energy” Doyoung grumbled, kicking Jaehyun’s chair to push him away but ended up pushing himself away while Jaehyun stay rooted to his spot, earning a laugh from his partner “Well, what’s going on in that head of yours. I haven’t seen you like this since you got rejected by a girl back in high school” Jaehyun shook his head upon remembering the old memory “It’s (y/n)” he said after some time “Oh no, really?” Doyoung faked his surprised, placing a hand over his mouth, only to get hit on the arm “Shut up, anyway, I had lunch with her last week, I explained to her about Mrs. Bong’s case and I found it weird, that after buying some time to distract the killer by throwing objects at them, why didn’t she attempt to escape the room and (y/n) point out that the door could be lock from the outside prior to the attack. It’s like she knew it from the first place” Jaehyun finished explaining

“How did she know the door could be locked outside?” “She said she had a friend who used to live in the same neighborhood” Doyoung hummed while nodding his head “Maybe she was just stating a fact” Doyoung shrugged his shoulder “After connecting the door being lock beforehand and Mrs. Bong failed attempt to escaped, it made sense. If the door wasn’t lock, Mrs. Bong would’ve have escape and we would have a visual on how the killer looked like, their gender, and their height. It seems like (y/n) was able to piece those two together quickly” After letting Doyoung’s words sink in, it does made more sense now and it is true that Mrs. Bong could escape if the door wasn’t locked and when you look back through Mrs. Bong’s history as a track star, she could easily outrun the killer. Maybe he was thinking too much, he shouldn’t jump to conclusion so quickly.

“Well aren’t you two early for the meeting” a voice announced, the two men stopped and looked at the door, seeing their boss, Taeyong by the door, they quickly stood up to greet him. Taeyong raised his hand, returning their greeting and made his way in front of the room “Is there a new victim, sir?” Doyoung asked after taking his seat “Fortunately we don’t have a new victim and I wished it stayed like that because I want this to end as quickly as possible. Apparently, Johnny asked me to gather you all for a meeting, for what reason, we will soon find out” Taeyong said, hands stuffed in his pocket while rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet

“Why, good morning gentleman” Yuta greeted, he sauntered around the table before taking his seat across from Jaehyun “You guys are early today” He addressed towards the two men in front of him. “Knock knock, Johnny’s here” Johnny’s tall figure walked inside the room with his laptop in his arms, followed by Jungwoo “Knock knock” He softly repeated Johnny’s words. After the two men took their seat, they both eyed Jaehyun and Doyoung “Quite rare seeing you guys arriving early for a meeting” Johnny spoke “Do we always arrived late for meetings?” Seeing everyone in the room nod their head silently, Doyoung slumped back in his seat, letting out an annoyed puff “Let’s just start the meeting so I could leave early as well” flailing his hand in the air

Johnny connects his laptop to the projector then proceeds to stand in front of the room to start the meeting “I was right about Mr. Choi’s neighbor recalling the wrong car model” Johnny grinned “It was a black 2001 Civic Hybrid, this footage here was taken by a traffic light camera at 6:15 a.m” Johnny pressed the play button, the video shows the said black car slowly stopping at the intersection, a clear view of the vehicle, Johnny then paused the video “Now, if you zoomed in and made some few adjustment with the footage for a clearer view, you can see Mr. Choi, in the car with a women” Johnny tapped away on his laptop and the screen showed a picture of Mr. Choi with an unidentified women sitting in the driver’s seat “It could be two friends sitting in a car together until you looked at the next frame” The next frame showed the two people leaning forward, lips melding together “It seems Mr. Choi had a lady friend. We also have a witness; the car was spotted once at a park 6 kilometers from Mr. Choi’s apartment around 7:30 a.m, the car was seen rocking back and forth” Johnny wiggled his eyebrows

“Do we know the identity of this woman?” Taeyong asked “25 years old, Lee Eun Bi is a fellow co-worker of Mr. Choi” Yuta answered “She is soon to be brought for interrogation later with Kun” “We also found out the whereabouts of Ms. Chung” Johnny continued “There was footages of her in a hotel with an unknown man. Taeil will bring the results- speak of the devil” Johnny stopped when Taeil entered the room “I apologize for my tardiness but I have the results” waving the paper in the air before handing it to Taeyong “Ms. Chung booked 5 rooms from different hotels with the same man named Jong Youngjae and I can confirm that both of them had perform sexual intercourse. I also found Mr. Choi’s sperm inside of Ms. Lee’s car”

Taeyong sat in his chair quietly, looking through the papers before looking up “Does this lead us anywhere closer to our killer’s identity?” “Honestly sir, not really, we just discovered a dead couple’s disloyalty to each other”

“They did what?” you cried. You were sitting on the couch next to Jaehyun with your legs rested on his lap meanwhile his hand rubbed circle on your bare thigh, giving it an occasional squeeze “Apparently Jihyo booked 5 different rooms and fucked a guy who wasn’t her boyfriend while Yoonwoo fucked his mistress in her car” Jaehyun repeated his words, you had a dejected looked on you face, his hand reached over to brush his finger in your hair to help you calm down “but I remember them being so happy together so why would they do that to each other?” “Sometimes acting like the happiest couple is their way to cover up their toxic relationship” “Now that I think about it, Jihyo did put more effort on her makeup that day” you sighed “Guess, Jiyho, Yoonwoo and Kang Hyun-Jun are the victims that committed infidelity” Jaehyun cocked his eyebrows at you “Actually it was Jihyo, Yoonwoo and Bong Young-Hee that were caught” Jaehyun corrected, emphasizing the word ‘and’, your eyes widen and you let out a nervous laugh “Right, Mrs. Bong, there are just so many victims that I forgot sometimes” You smiled sheepishly

“By the way, last week when we had lunch together, I can’t help but noticed a cut underneath your hairline” Jaehyun asked “How did you get that?” “Oh this” You brush away your hair from your face to reveal an already healed cut “I dropped a mug before you picked me up, guess some shard flew up to my forehead” Jaehyun studied your face for a while, looking for any signs of nervousness or panic, after finding none he softly rubbed over the scar with his thumbs “Be careful next time, alright?” He then focused on the screen in front of him, not noticing you fiddling with your fingers

“Guess Jihyo, Yoonwoo and Kang Hyun-Jun are the victims that committed infidelity” your words keeps replaying in his head, how can you get mixed up between a recent victim and the 15th victim? He doesn’t seem to recall about telling you about Mr. Kang, let alone his full name. ‘Could it be?’ He made his way to Kun’s office, knocking the door before entering

“Oh Jaehyun, nice timing actually” Kun smiled warmly which Jaehyun returned with a small one “Could you hand this to Taeyong, it has all the information about the last interrogation with Ms. Lee and Mr. Jong” after the papers were taken away from his hands, Kun sat back down behind his desk “So, what do you need?” Jaehyun sat down on the chairs that were placed in front of Kun’s desk “Can I have the contact information of Mr. Kang Hyun-Jun’s family?” Kun cocked his head to the side “Sure I can do that but why do you need it for?” he asked while he rummaged through the files “I just need to confirm something” “Is it important?” “I still have no clues but if my assumptions are right, maybe we are able to find out about our killer” Jaehyun explained, Kun let out a soft cheer after finding the contact list and hand it to Jaehyun “Here, have the entire contact list of our victims, whatever you are looking for, I want to help as much as I can” “Are you sure?” he asked worriedly “What if I lose it?” his shoulder slightly shakes as Kun let out a soft laugh “No worries, I have another copy of it” He patted his shoulder, Jaehyun stood up, thanking the older man and walked out of the office

“Thank you for taking your time to come here” Jaehyun shook hands with Mrs. Kang “Please, I will do everything in my power to help you find my husband’s killer, as well for the other victims” Mrs. Kang smiled softly. “Do you have any leads so far?” “Unfortunately, we haven’t gotten anywhere but I hope today you can help me with something” earning a nod from the women, Jaehyun took out files from his breifcase “These files contains information about our previous victims, possibly the same killer. We discovered that these 3 victims has one thing in common, which was disloyalty towards their partners” Jaehyun explained slowly “Mrs. Kang, if you don’t mind me asking, but has your husband been acting strangely before his murder?” Mrs. Kang expression fell, she looked down at her clasped hands on her lap “I was aware that love him too much and I know if I confront him about it, it’ll destroy our family” The women cried, gently wiping her tears “I thought I’d be fine if I just go on with it and act dumb as long my daughter is happy” Jaehyun sat quietly, giving time for Mrs. Kang to calm down “Do you possible know the women that your husband cheated with?” “I believe it’s one of his colleagues but it hurts me too much to know who it is, so I never know”

After a short banter on who should pay for the drinks; Mrs. Kang ended up paying despite Jaehyun’s refusal; he was back in his office, sitting in silence. After meeting with Mrs. Kang, his suspicions for his girlfriend only grew. ‘She knows something’ he took out his phone, searching for your name in his contact list. It rung once, twice, it’s not until the fourth ring is when you answered the call “Hey, baby” You greeted warmly through the phone, your voice is music to his ears, but this time it felt deafening “Sorry, the café is a little pack today but do you need anything?” “Yeah, could we meet up tonight; I need to speak with you” Jaehyun spoke lowly “Oof, tonight’s is not the night; I’m hanging out with my friends at this restaurant near street 135, how about tomorrow?” Jaehyun agreed, biding you goodbye before slouching back into his chair

The clock reads 01:27a.m, Jaehyun is back home, tossing his keys on the table. He sat on the living room couch, head in his hands, file records displayed across the small coffee table. ‘Jihyo, Yoonwoo, Bong Yong-Hee and Mr. Kang’ Jaehyun thought, you were right about Mr. Kang, how were you right? You said it yourself, there were too many victims, of course you get mixed up but it felt too strange that you specifically said Mr. Kang’s name. His eyes fell upon the contact list of the victim’s family, ‘what if-‘ The phone rang, interrupting Jaehyun’s train of thoughts, he looked at the caller ID, Doyoung was calling him

“What is it this time?” Jaehyun answered quickly “Bad news, we found our 23rd victim” Doyoung’s rough voice could be heard through the phone, he sounded distraught “What happened this time and where are you?” Standing up from the couch, he quickly put on his shoes and his keys before rushing towards his car “It’s messy, our killer is feeling bold tonight, we’re waiting for you at street 135”

#nct #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #nct angst #nct fluff #fbi agent! jaehyun

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jsilva0117 · 5 years

Text

Once Upon a Dream: A Sleeping Beauty AU

Decided to redo my first two chapters for my fic. so far I have 10 chapters posted on fanfiction.net ...more to come =)

No Beta so I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors and other nonsense.

Once upon a dream

Chapter 1

The Evil Queen’s laugh echoed in the great hall as she departed with her magic. Her threat to destroy their daughter was too much for him to take. He had told Snow that it wasn’t worth it to stoop to her level, but once she mentioned Emma and threatened her life, his anger took over. Pure rage launched that sword out of his hand and into a puff of magic smoke. Secretly he hoped he’d be quicker. He wished the blade would’ve run right through her. He wasn’t a murderer, but with his daughter’s life threatened he wasn’t sure how far he’d go to keep her safe.

Regina’s words lay heavy in the air. Snow rushes over to baby Emma, holding her close to her chest. Sadness and concern are pressing in Snow’s chest, constricting her breathing as she looks upon her only child. This was her precious baby that she dreamed of having. Princess Emma’s coronation was supposed to be a happy celebration, but it quickly turned into the worst day of their lives.

“Don’t worry Snow. I won’t let Regina hurt this family,” David says as he wraps his arms around his wife and daughter.

“The Evil Queen’s threats are real, your majesty,” a voice calls out from the crowd. Most of the subjects in attendance turn around to see who has spoken up. They move aside to allow the speaker a way to the King and Queen of Misthaven.

A slender woman holding a long wooden staff and wearing a long black dress approaches. She stops to bow at the King and Queen’s feet.

“I mean no disrespect, your majesties. I simply know Regina. She and I go back. I know of the curse she speaks of. And trust me; you do not want your daughter anywhere near it.”

Snow and David look at each other with dread.

“Is there anything that can be done? There must be a way to stop this curse!” David says.

“There is. I’ve used this curse before on my enemies. I hadn’t known at the time, but as it turns out, true love is the strongest magic of all. True love, your highness, can break any curse.”

David thinks for a moment, “True love? True love is supposed to be the rarest magic there is. How are we supposed to find out who Emma’s true love is?”

“There is another way, your majesty, to keep her safe.”

Maleficent couldn’t believe she was about to suggest what she was about to. She’d hoped it wasn’t the grief of losing her child nine months ago talking. The moment she laid eyes on Emma, Mal was stricken by her beauty and innocence.

“You can hide the child. The Evil Queen’s threat only lasts till her 21st birthday. If we hide the child till then, the Evil Queen’s promise to take her life will never come to pass.” Maleficent held her breath as she let the words sink into the King and Queen’s heads. She knew this would not be a decision they would come to lightly. “For this your majesties, I offer my services in the task of caring for your daughter. I would treat her as if she were my own”. Maleficent’s eyes begin to tear up knowing that this child could never replace the one she lost, but maybe it was a second chance at being a mother. “I have magic that is comparable to Regina’s. I could protect her-- and I would, your majesties-- with my life if need be.”

The King and Queen could hear the conviction in her words.

“The King and I will depart to our chambers to consider your offer Maleficent. Thank you,” Snow said trying to be strong. David looked at her, unable to believe she was actually considering giving up their only child.

“Of course your Majesties,” Maleficent bows.

Snow nodded at David as they left the Great Hall.

“Snow, you can’t really be considering giving Emma, our daughter, to Maleficent. We don’t know her that well. Only that we’ve been told that she turned good. We don’t know her real intentions here.”

“David I know! I know it’s scary because I am terrified.” Snow’s voice is shaking. “But we need magic on our side. We Know Regina. This isn’t an empty threat. She will come after Emma!” Snow’s tears are fighting their way through as her face contorts with the pain that’s screaming inside. “We have to give her her best chance!” The tears now stream down snow’s face as she looks down at her baby daughter.

David comes up to them and holds them both in his arms, kissing snow on the head. Do you realize what you’re saying? We won’t see her until she’s grown.” Charming whispers softly and squeezes his eyes shut as the tears roll down.

Snow continues to cry still looking lovingly at her baby girl. “We love you Emma. Always remember that. No matter what.” Snow then gives a lovingly mother kiss to her precious child, knowing this is their last few moments together. It was with heavy hearts that they decided to give Emma her best chance, and that was to go in hiding.

That evening, Maleficent came to the king and Queen’s summons. “Maleficent. We have decided to let you watch over our sweet Emma,” Snow continues with tears in her eyes. You know Regina and how her magic works. You need to be far enough away where Regina’s magic can’t reach.”

“Of course, your majesties. I will put a protection spell around the glen in the forest where we will live.” Maleficent spoke. “There, Regina won’t be able to enter nor use her mirror magic to spy on us.

“And you will return her on her 21st birthday,” David added.

“Of course.” Maleficent pauses. “I do request that I bring my sisters to live with us as well. They too have magic, your majesties, and all of us together will be able to protect Emma from Regina.”

David and Snow look at each other. Both wished they didn’t have to do this. They didn’t want to leave Emma to someone. All they ever wanted was to have a family of their own, and now that dream was slipping through their fingers.

David nods at Mal in approval. Snow approaches Mal to hand her only daughter over to her, to give her her best chance. Snow couldn’t even believe she was able to let her only daughter go when Mal took Emma into her arms. Snow could feel her eyes well up with more tears. Her legs began to give way beneath her, but David took notice and held Snow to keep her from collapsing in grief. David looked at Mal, pleading please take care of her with his eyes.

With that, Maleficent turned and walked out of the kingdom with infant Princess Emma in her arms.

Chapter 2

21 years later…

His thoughts were all over the place, pounding in his head. He was tired of hearing about his betrothed. He’s never even met her with the exception of her coronation, but she was an infant and himself barely just a lad of 4 years. He doesn’t even remember that day, and yet his father keeps reminding him that she’s his bride to be. His father, the king has been able to talk about nothing else. Killian had to get away. A good long ride seemed to be the best plan.

Today he didn’t feel like being a prince, especially if it meant he was being forced to marry a complete stranger and he knew that time was growing nearer. Maybe, just maybe, he could get away and never come back.

After hours of riding Killian decides to give himself and his horse, Philip, a much-needed break. Killian dismounts and walks his horse to a nearby boulder. He sits on the ground leaning his tired body against it. He lays his head back watching the blue sky through the summer leaves of an old oak tree. It felt very peaceful here he thought. Something Killian was hoping to find, but still wishing he could escape his fate.

It was then he hears a strange sound coming out of the forest. After listening for a few moments he begins to wonder if it’s some kind of songbird singing the most beautiful melody, but after a few more moments the melody continues into a more intricate song and he knows it’s a woman.

“Did you hear that Philip?” The horse just shakes his head and snorts. “There couldn’t be anyone this deep in the woods? Could there?” Killian listens for a few more minutes than looks at his horse, Philp. “Oh c’mon now. I know you hear it too.” Killian stands from his spot and with dreamy blue eyes, gazes in the direction of the music. “Whoever or whatever that is it can’t be far.” His grin gets mischievously wider as he looks over to his trusty horse. “C’mon ol’ boy. What do you say?” Killian playfully asks as he climbs on his horse. “We’re now on a good ol’ fashion quest, my friend. Let’s go!” Off they ride in search for the strange singing that has Killian so enamored.

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Emma always found joy in singing. It was the birds that taught her. The beautiful music they sang to one another gave her soul wings. Even though she loved to listen to the songbirds, she especially loved to sing to the swans at the lake near their cottage. Their music was not so pretty, but the way they loved one other, inspired her. She always felt a kinship to them. She would notice the same two swans return every year. They seemed to mate for life, or so she’s read. But she knew these two, even though they were mere birds, held love for one another. She sang to the swans every day at the lake. It’s what made her aunties nickname her ‘Swan’.

She longed for that kind of partnership. She supposes it was a romantic notion, but lately, approaching her 21st birthday, she’s been feeling more lonely and isolated. Growing up, she got to hear stories of Kings and Queens, Dragons, and Fairy Godmothers. It all sounded wonderful and heroic, but most of all, it made her yearn to be a part of something bigger. Her only companions are the animals of the forest. In her mind, she pretends they understand her when she speaks-- she hopes they understand her; although, she’s always had a floating suspicion they only hang around her because she feeds them berries and nuts that she collects in the forest.

“Typical forest animals,” she thought, “only one thing on their minds.”

This thought alone was frustrating enough to fuel the loneliness she felt. She sits on a nearby boulder blanketed with moss, staring off into the forest of large oaks. She listens to the songbirds nearby and decides to join them in their song. What else is there to do but sit in her favorite spot, praying that one day she’ll have someone to share her soul song with and them in return?

She sang what was on her heart. She sang for deep soul connection like she saw with the swans. No words. She knew words could never convey this feeling-- this longing to belong to someone and to have someone belong to her. Her heart continued to sing into the wood, but it had the saddest of undertones because she knew no one could hear it- and no one ever will.

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Killian knew he was getting close but, because of the trees, the sound kept echoing. Philip’s gallop comes to a halt as Killian listens again to the sound.

“Bloody hell, Philip. What’s with this blasted forest? I could swear it was coming from this way.” He quiets himself for a moment and tries to listen more intently this time. Then, that beautiful voice came ringing out once again. The sound didn’t just vibrate in his ears, it resonated with something else--something more than he could describe or understand. All he knew is that he was desperate to find out where it was coming from. He pauses again. “This way boy! Let’s go!”

This time he knew he was getting close. He gave Philip a kick to pick up his speed. A yell and another kick, faster again. He was getting closer; he could feel it, but the next thing he knows, a large stream comes into sight and before he can pull back the reigns, Philip comes to a violent stop just before the water. Unfortunately, for Killian, the stop was way too abrupt, and it sent Killian flying over his horse and straight into the flowing stream, landing on his back soaked to the bone. Killian looks up at Philip and he swears he can hear a hoarse chuckle coming from the beast.

“Not funny Philip. Rest assured you’re going to pay for that one my friend.” Killian indignantly hoists himself out of the water and onto the embankment where he begins to strip off his wet clothes. He starts with his overcoat and vest, peeling it off his wet torso and wringing it out to hang up on a nearby branch. Then he strips off his undershirt leaving his upper body completely naked. He begins to unlace his trousers when Philip starts to slowly trot away. “Whoa Philip. Hey!” For reasons he can’t understand, Philip picks up his pace. “Wait! Get back here you blasted animal!” Killian shouts as he sprints after his runaway horse half-naked.

Killian’s feet move swiftly beneath him to try and catch up. As he quickly moves through some thick brush his body slams straight into Philip’s rump. Killian immediately grabs his nose hoping he didn’t break it on that devil horse’s arse. “Ah!....aahh! Ugh! Philip! What in the blazes is wrong with you--” And then he sees her through a small opening amid the thick brush. She was breathtakingly beautiful-- a vision he could not turn away from, even if he wanted to. No words could describe his draw to her. Then, he heard her sing. Her voice was like an angel’s. He instantly recognized the song she was singing. Elated that he finally found the voice he’d been chasing this whole time. Had Philip known? He led him right to her. Killian looks down for a second, about to put his foot forward to go and introduce himself to her when all of a sudden she vanishes from his line of sight. “What the devil,” he whispers to himself. “Where’d she go?” He takes another step forward when all of a sudden hears a loud smack and everything goes black.

The pain reverberates through his whole body. His head aches like it’s never ached before. His hand goes behind his head to make sure he isn’t bleeding. It’s a bloody miracle he isn’t. He then realizes he’s lying on his back in the dirt, the summer sun beating down on him. A shadow moves above him looking down with fiery eyes and a branch the size of a warrior’s mallet.

Once his vision returns he sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever lay his eyes upon. Despite the pain in his head, he is awed by the sight before him. He’s conflicted as well. He’s not sure whether to grab this gorgeous creature and pull her down on top of him or put his hands up in surrender. He figures he should choose the latter.

“Whoa, whoa darling…take it easy with that. I mean you no harm… I was only standing here loo-“

“What?” She interrupts. “Spying on me?”

Her eyes are like jades, drawing him in like a spell. They bore into him with such ferocity and fire. He knows he is in trouble… in so many ways.

“What’s your purpose here mister?” She spoke with authority and passion. He was even more enamored now than he was when he was searching for her. He’d kiss her if he wasn’t so afraid.

“No, no I was just… following a voice, I heard in the forest and well… it was lovely and-- it was singing and… well… I believe it was your singing lass and so…” He was having a hard time getting his words out. He hadn’t planned on their conversation going like this, nor to be in so much pain, or on his back, with a weapon in her hands ready to crack his skull open. With the look in her eyes, he knew she might just do it.

“I just wanted to find out where it was coming from that’s all.” He shot her the most charming grin he could muster. Though he knows it looks forced since he swears he has a lump on his head the size of his fist by now.

“Is that so?” She asks raising an eyebrow. “Then where are your clothes?” She continues to interrogate in a very aggressive and threatening tone.

It’s suddenly dawned on him that he’s half-naked. He realizes that none of this looks good. “Oh. That. Well, that my dear, there is an explanation I assure you, but how ‘bout’ you put that tree branch down and I’ll tell you.” Her stare only bores down onto him more intently; she waits for his explanation holding her ‘ready to attack’ stance.

“Look, I was following a sound in the forest and my horse threw me in the ravine. As I was drying off he took off and I followed trying to catch the blasted animal.” He could see Philip slowly creep behind a large shrub as if ashamed of his actions. Killian throws him a look that says, you’ll pay for this!

“Oh.” She let her guard down a bit to his seemingly reasonable explanations. She lowers the branch/weapon to her side and holds out her hand to help him up. Relieved, Killian takes her hand to stand. Still suspicious, Emma asks, “So what are you doing this deep in the forest anyway?”

His eyes go soft and his shoulders slump, as if all of a sudden he realizes his body is exhausted. He lets out a long breath. “Running away from my fate it would seem.” He sits down on a nearby fallen tree trunk. Her brow perks up at his words. She reluctantly takes a seat next to him, realizing he’s still a stranger, yet she can’t help but feel drawn to him. It surprises her how she’s let her guard down with him (even though she did smack him good in the head.) She looks at him with pleading interest. “Your fate?” She spoke quietly hoping she could get him to divulge further.

“Aye,” he looks to the ground, sadness coloring his features. “Have you ever felt that you were made for something else? Something more than the hand you’ve been dealt?”

Her jaw drops; astonished at the similarities they seem to have. “I suppose.” She decides to lean the tree branch against the large trunk they’re both sitting on. “I’ve lived in these woods my whole life. All I ever wanted was freedom from this isolation. My three aunts-- they mean well and want to keep me safe, but I don’t want to live in fear and suspicion. I want to travel and see what’s out there. You know, go to exotic lands, meet interesting people.” She pauses, “maybe even find true love.” She looks at him and smiles. “But as you can see I may need to work on my social skills.” Her smile gets bigger as they both laugh. He rubs the back of his head, glad she hadn’t caused too much damage when she whacked him.

“I suppose this lump forming in the back of my head would say that’s true.” He just looks at her and sees how different her features are now that her guard is down. His heart swells at how breathtakingly beautiful she is because of it. But then her smile falters and she looks down, watching her hands as if she wants to share more but is afraid to. He watches her with softness in his eyes waiting for her to continue.

“I wake up in terror sometimes, worried that this is all life is ever going to be for me. My aunts would read me stories growing up and I always wished I could travel in my books and live their lives for only a day. What if this is all my life will be? What if what I want will be nothing more than a fantasy?”

Killian watches her fidget. He can tell she isn't used to sharing herself like this. The kind of sharing where you reveal a part of yourself that makes you exposed and vulnerable. The more he watches her though, the more he realizes he isn’t either. But for some reason, he feels he can truly share himself with her.

“And this life you dream of living for yourself… what does it look like?” Killian asks with softness in his eyes.

A warm smile forms on her face as she looks back down. Killian’s heart squeezes as he watches her.

“I know it sounds silly, but I wish I was someone people look up to. I imagine I was someone who was capable of saving people; a hero perhaps. Not for glory or anything like that. I just want to make a difference. I want to know that I’m capable of helping another.” Her smile falters a bit as she continues. “I know my aunts love me but I also just want to meet other people. They’re the only other people I’ve ever known. I mean you’re pretty much the only other person I’ve ever talked to besides the three of them.”

“Well lass, I hope I’m not too disappointing as of yet.” They both give a small chuckle at his comment.

Killian’s expression hardens a bit as he decides to share a bit more about himself. He closes his eyes and says, “My father, he’s forcing me to marry. See, my family, mostly my father, has determined my fate for me, taking away any choice to my own life. That’s what I was running away from.”

The corners of her mouth lift slightly, hoping to lighten the mood. “No wonder you ran away,” she adds.

“Yes well, I have no idea what I was running to.” He pauses for a moment and gazes into her eyes, “until I heard you singing.”

“Me?” she questions, surprised by his words. She looks down again. “I’m afraid there’s nothing special about me or my singing worth running to.”

“Now why would you say that lass?” Bashfully he adds, “I’ve never been more drawn to anything in all my life.” Even he himself was surprised by his words because they were true. Their eyes meet after his confession and Emma realizes her stomach is doing flips. A feeling she is so unfamiliar with that she believes she is becoming ill.

He gazes into her eyes, pleadingly. For what she’s not sure, but at the moment her heart is soaring at the possibility of someone else actually intrigued by her. But by the look in his eyes, it was more than intrigue, it was… longing.

After their gaze holds for a few moments she can’t help but blush and drop her gaze back to her hands. A comfortable silence falls between them. It feels a little daring but she looks back up to his eyes and then unconsciously down to his lips. A vision suddenly appears in her mind’s eye of them kissing. She leans in and notices he does the same. His eyes close as their faces are mere inches from one another. Before they touch she backs away. Memories of her aunts warning her of strangers invade her thoughts, yet she’s not afraid. She clears her throat as she settles back into her seat.

“Well then… I uh,” she gives a nervous chuckle. “I wish you well then.” She reaches her hand out for a handshake. She can see Killian’s expression is that of shock and, perhaps, awe. Did he actually want her to stay?

He reaches for her outstretched hand and gingerly raises her knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss. He lowers her hand but continues to hold it, his thumb rubbing small circles on her knuckles. He averts his gaze and stares down at his hand holding hers. He notes how good it feels. He doesn’t want to let go.

“I wish to see you again,” he speaks softly. She catches her breath, her hand unconsciously squeezing his. It takes her a while to answer and, for a moment, he wonders if he’s overstepped his bounds.

She’s in a bit of shock. Here she was trying to wish him well, thinking they would never see each other again and then he says he wants to meet with her? She’s caught a bit off guard with this whole encounter.

He waits with bated breath as she finally speaks, “um… ok.” Years of her aunt’s warnings of talking to strangers continuously hammers in her mind. But looking at him, she can’t help but feel she already knows him. Yet, she also yearns to know him more.

“Meet me here tomorrow at noon,” she says.

Killian smiles the biggest grin at her and she can’t help but smile back at his beautifully hopeful face. He stands to face her looking earnest and happy. “I shall count the hours, milady.” He kisses her hand again making her smile even bigger.

Emma takes her hand back and stands to leave, making her way back to the cottage. Killian calls out to her before she’s out of earshot, “wait! I don’t know your name!”

“It’s Swan,” she yells backs. She’s not sure why she only gave him her nickname. She supposes she’s hoping this isn’t too good to be true. Or maybe it was the fear her aunts had instilled in her about strangers. Regardless, she knew one thing; she was actually looking forward to tomorrow.

As Killian watches her scamper away, he brings his hand to the back of his head, just now realizing he has a terrible headache. The bruise is excruciatingly large, but right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Read more here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12450580/1/Once-upon-a-Dream

#captainswan au #cs fic #cs ff au #ouat captain swan #Prince!Killian #PRINCESS EMMA #ouat ff #prince killian #Killian and Emma #emma swan

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: I Bet You Can’t {2}

Chris Evans x Uriah & Chris Hemsworth x Summer

Crossover-Collab Four-Part Miniseries

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Fun, and Games, Raunchy Talk, Trigger Warning Mention of Trump🙃

Words: 2.9K

Summary: Uriah and Chris are happily married. A night of relaxing with your best friends Chris and Summer Hemsworth brings up “No Nut November.” Once you hear it, you know where it’s leading. IT was all jokes until somehow it turned serious. The Chris’ strike a full-on bet while dragging their better halves into the madness. The rules are simple, for the entire month of November none of you will have sex, none of you will get that nut in any way. Whichever couple makes it get bragging rights, and the 10k pool bet money. Whichever couple doesn’t make it has to change their social media name to “Failed NNN” for a week and post/tweet as normal and go on IG live to announce their failure. The bet is rigged though when Uriah and Summer decide to sabotage their husbands and make a side bet on who could make their husband fail quicker. All’s fair in love and war, and this is war.

Note: Got this idea from a group conversation with my friends, where a debate broke out about women being stronger and more able to survive NNN than men. It got me thinking, hmmm we know Chris has a dirty mind, dirty mind has to equal freak and always wanting to fool around.

It was too much fun working with @oceanscorazon a while back for her part one to out first collab titled Rumors & Waves. Look out for part two coming soon. I had to do it again. Thank you to the beautiful and phenomenal Amber @oceanscorazon for agreeing to this!!!

This will be a four part story to be posted one chapter a week to show what November is like for Chris and Uriah. @oceanscorazon will also write four parts to show that November is like for Chris and Summer.

***So for Chris and Uriah’s timeline, this is before the events of Rumor Has It.

🍁 🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

-Week One-

Four days. Four damn days. You rolled your eyes and stared at your reflection. Fresh out a shower that you thought would help the tension in your shoulders; you realized it hadn’t done anything at all. You rolled your shoulders and groaned. It had been four days. Not one and done or two and done, it had been four damn days since this stupid bet began. Four days where Chris maintained this gung ho attitude that he’d be victorious in No Nut November.

The first day was easy for him because he was busy working the whole day. When it was time for bed, you expected him to see the error of his ways. As you were lying in the bed channel surfing, he came in kissed your forehead, and stretched back as if he had not one care in the world. He even tried to have a nonchalant conversation. When you slid closer to him and rested your head on his chest you were sure after a few minutes of feeling your body heat he would abandon the no nut ship but nope. He was perfectly content, even had the nerve to stroke mesmerizing and soothing circles onto your arm.

The second night was much like the first; the only difference was when he climbed into bed he went to you to assume the big spoon position. He stayed there for a few seconds, but when you moaned and wiggled deeper in his embrace he groaned and abruptly moved away to his side of the bed to roll onto his side. When you asked him what that was, he said he wanted to be the little spoon. You found it strange because he never wanted to be the little spoon. He liked being big spoon so he could overpower your body with his long spider-like legs and arms. When you wrapped your arms around him and pressed your body to his back it felt ridiculous because of how much more muscular he was. You moaned and pressed closer, and it was then he moved away claiming he was hot and really needed some sleep.

Night three, he was in bed before you, and he was fast asleep. That irked your nerve; he was creating space between you, not physical space either. He knew you loved to cuddle, but cuddling had all but disappeared as were any kisses that weren’t for your cheek, or forehead. He’d only allowed lip kisses that were under two seconds. The last time you had a two-second kiss was when you were fifteen playing kissing games with other kids your age. You thought when you were married two-second kisses would be a thing of the past.

After giving your hair a last once over, you gave yourself a determined look in the mirror. You planned on kicking it up a notch. It was couples workout day, and you had a plan. You walked out the bathroom and grabbed your workout towel, and made your way up to your in-home gym where Chris was waiting. You went over the plan in your head again.

“Tease, tease, ask for training, tease, then seduce, and finally find a release.”

You nodded, getting into the right mind frame as you climbed the steps to the top floor of yours and Chris’ Boston Brownstone. When you got to the top, the doors to the exercise studio were open, and you saw a tank clad Chris doing pull-ups. Getting lost you stood there and just watched him pump them out like they were nothing. When you’d counted to fifty he dropped down and groaned while stretching out his arms.

“Fifty, impressive.” He turned around and looked your body over. The look on his face was a masked one.

“Ready to show me what you go?” You approached him while fastening the gloves around your wrist.

“Don’t expect fifty.”

“Come on; I’ll spot you.”

You stretched your arms, then stood in front of the pull-up bar and looked at Chris through the mirror. He lifted you effortlessly, and you gripped the bar and began your pull-ups. He walked around you as he counted. You tried to keep your eyes focused on yourself in the mirror but every circle he made, you found yourself getting slightly distracted.

“Fifteen, good. Remember to keep your core tight,” Chris reminded.

You nearly laughed; he had no idea how tight your core was thanks to this stupid bet. Your arms began to shake, and you knew you only had a few left in you. Chris sensed it too and stood in front of you with his hands out ready to brace your drop.

“Thirty.” You let the bar go but barely dropped before Chris’s arms caught you, and placed you onto the floor.

“Felt good, right?”

“You and I, my friend have very different ideas of what feels good. Lucky for you I know just what will feel good.” You took a step to him. A smile spread across his face then he bit his bottom lip.

“I’m all ears, Mrs. Evans.”

“Just ears? I can think of better body parts to have all in.” You pressed your body to his and placed your hand over his crotch. Chris groaned and dropped a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Did you come up here to work out or talk?” He moved away to the treadmill and set it up. He was resisting. Great, you thought.

You spent thirty minutes on the treadmill, then fifteen on the elliptical, then separated for Chris to focus on his back while you concentrated on your legs. After another twenty minutes you’d worked up quite a sweat. When you wiped your forehead you saw Chris doing curls. You walked over to the kettlebells and decided to kick it up. Taking a spot in front of the mirror in clear sight of Chris, you began your kettlebell squats. When you dipped down, you made sure to poke your ass out a bit more than usual.Thanks to the micro shorts you wore, you knew the view was sublime.

After ten, you began to feel the burn, and you could feel his eyes glued to you. You decided to let your grunts and moans out on the next dip. When you did, you heard him suck in a hiss of air, but you didn’t stop. You were glad you chose this outfit, it showed just the right parts of you, the parts you knew he loved. After another ten you dropped the kettlebell in front of you and bent over to catch your breath. Placing your palms flat on the floor with not even the slightest bend of your knees you waited.

After a small grunt, he spoke. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna feel those tomorrow,” you responded. He smiled and nodded then walked to the bench press machine.

“You wanna go first? I’ll spot you.”

After you put the kettlebell back, you walked to him and lied back. Chris put twenty pounds on and lifted it like it was nothing to make sure it wasn’t too much. “Think you can handle twenty?”

“Most I’ve ever taken is about ten and a half, but I can handle twenty.” He fully got your meaning and adjusted his stance as he cleared his throat. You lifted your arms, gripped the bar then began. Chris counted them out.

You were doing fine until you realized how wide his stance was and just how close your head was to the ten and a half you were speaking of. Suddenly your concentration faltered, and your only thought was having him settle into your mouth. His eyes locked with yours, and you wondered if he could tell what you were thinking about. You bit your bottom lip and just imagined him slapping your face with it. Chris was a gentle guy but when he wanted he could get real nasty. You remembered the first time he slapped your cheek with his dick. It was a shock because he was this vanilla guy and you didn’t expect it, but you liked it. All you wanted right now was for him to slap you with it again.

“Forty, take a break.” He took the bar and put it back in place as you panted and tried to get a grip.

Why was this harder for you than his freaky ass? You sat up, stood, and motioned for him to go ahead. Before he did, he added another eighty pounds to the bar making it an even hundred. He knew you couldn’t spot that. When he laid down he nudged his head to the side.

“I got this, babe.”

Without wasting another second, he began pumping out lift after lift without so much as a tremble. You’d watched him do hundreds of these over the years, and you knew he wasn’t anywhere near tired. Your eyes slowly feasted on every inch of his body until they landed just below his waist. Without thinking you walked to him and swung your leg over him and sat right on his dick. Chris groaned and stopped with the bar in the air. He looked to you with a question in his eyes.

“Uriah, really? I could have dropped this.”

“You wouldn’t.” You fixed yourself on him, and he groaned again.

“What’re you doing?” he continued lifting the bar, only this time, his movements were slower.

“Nothing, just sitting.”

“I’m not a seat.”

“This is the second best seat in the house.”

“What’s the first?”

“Your face.” You saw his arm wobble, and your heart skipped a beat, worried he’d drop the bar on his throat. Chris lifted it with a loud grunt and flung it back. The barbell dropped to the floor with a loud clatter before Chris sat up, wrapped one arm around your waist and flipped you so your back was pressed to the bench with him between your legs.

“Fuck!” the look on his face was an intense mischievous one.

“What’re you doing, Uriah?”

“Nothing.”

“Since the minute we started working out, you’ve been saying all sorts of slick shit and doing everything you possibly could to have my eyes on you. Now, what—are—you—doing?”

His face was so close, and you could feel him getting hard.

“I want you.” The fire flickered on behind his deep cornflower blue eyes.

“It’s been four days, and I want you, baby.”

“We can’t; you know that.”

“Chris, of course, we can. I won’t tell anyone. Summer and Chris will keep thinking that we haven’t. It’ll be our little secret.”

You dropped your hand between your bodies and slipped it into his shorts and gripped his meat. Chris groaned and closed his eyes to enjoy the feel of your hand.

“Don’t you want me too, baby?”

“God Riah, you know I want you. You know I always want you.”

“Okay then. Take these off and let me do all the work.”

Just when you thought he would give in, he grabbed your hand and stopped its movements.

“I’m not going to fail this baby. It’s one month, four weeks, thirty days, it is barely a drop in the bucket of our marriage. We can handle this. Our relationship is much more than sex.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Who are you?” Chris got off of you and walked over to his towel.

“Chris, come on. This is stupid. We’re adults. Children make these kinds of bets.”

“It’ll make us stronger.” You rolled your eyes. He was making you feel like a dick crazed thirsty thot. You sat up on the bench and glared at him.

“Christopher Robert Evans, if you do not give me the dick I want I promise you I’ll get it elsewhere.”

Chris rose his eyebrows, but he was amused. He didn’t take a thing you said as serious.

“Really? Where?”

“Right under your nose! Don’t test me, boy. It may be November, but I’m still a hot girl!”

With that, you walked out of the room and stormed downstairs. Hopefully you’d scared the shit out of him, and he’d screw his head on right.

You were disappointed that night when you were met with an actual barrier between you and him in the bed. He’d made a makeshift wall. Your jaw dropped at his audacity. When you saw it you saw red.

“Chris, you’re fucking kidding me, right?!”

“What? I thought this would help you out. It’s a wall. You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine,” Chris explained.

“A wall? So you Trump now? Building walls and shit? What’s next?”

“Don’t play with me like that. Don’t mention that name in my house!”

He was dead serious. You rolled your eyes. “Well, stop acting like him, unless you plan on grabbing this pussy.”

He couldn’t keep a straight face to that one, and he busted out laughing. His laughter prompted yours, and some of the tension melted away.

“I love you more than life Riah, but you’re not getting none of this dick.”

Again your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe this. You stormed away and went into your closet hell-bent on finding your stash of toys. You went into the drawer in the back, expecting to find them in the box you’d put them, but the box was empty.

“Oh hell no he didn’t.”

You stormed back out to the bedroom and saw Chris sitting there with a smug smirk on his face. “You’re not getting any plastic dick either. For better or worse means we’re in this together.”

This shit would not do at all. It wasn’t even the end of the week yet, and you were bout tired of this shit. Tomorrow it was time to reassess.

~~~~~~~

“Girl, you too!”

You’d just finished telling Summer all about Chris’ ass and the shit he’d put you through. You even told her how he confiscated your toys, so self pleasure was out of the question too.

“Summer, why are we always the ones paying the price for their stupidity?”

“I don’t know, but Chris had the nerve to get a body pillow to separate us in bed. A body pillow Riah!”

“They must be long lost brothers or something. Chris pulled that shit too, except he actually made a fucking wall Summer, a wall of pool noodles. Pool noodles!”

Summer snickered and nearly fell out of her chair. You laughed too, but deep down, you were salty as fuck.

“He is serious about this, Riah. I didn’t think he’d make it two days, but the week ends tomorrow, and he still won’t let me sit on it,” Summer whined. You felt her pain.

“At least he didn’t take your toys.”

Summer looked from side to side as she thought about it. “Hold on.”

You watched as she walked through her mansion to the master bedroom. She perched the camera up and searched her belongings. You busied yourself looking through the folders that had been messengered over for the impending album. Suddenly you heard a loud squeal.

“This mother--.”

“Watch your mouth, Summer!”

“Christopher Hemsworth, what did you do? Where is my bag of trix?”

Chris came into the frame with a wide smile. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“Chris, I’m not being funny. Where is it?”

“It’s safe. I found it a new home for the month.” Summer’s mouth dropped.

“You had no right; it’s mine Christopher.”

“What’s mine is yours, and yours is mine.”

“If that were true, you’d give me that dick already!” She shrieked again, but Chris didn’t look threatened. He simply laughed then looked to the camera.

“Riah, how are you, darling? How is this first week of November treating you and Evans?”

You tried hard not to scowl, but the salty look on your face was a permanent fixation at this point.

“Ah, I see, as well as Summer’s week. Cheerio, just three more to go. Eye on the prize. Tell Evans I’ll call him later. I’m off to get a workout.”

“Yeah, yeah, no one cares. You have the best workout equipment here, and you’re just letting it grow cobwebs,” Summer spat.

“Cobwebs? I think they have products for that babe.”

Summer shrieked again before she launched a pillow at him. Chris shouted bye as he ran.

“I have had it with him, Riah. All I want is some sex, is that too much to ask for?!”

“I know. I thought Chris would be over it by now, but he isn’t. They’re serious,” you finished.

The two of you sat there with pained, salty expressions. After almost a minute, the two of you gasped simultaneously. Your eyes met, and she looked like she had an idea.

“I’ve got it,” the two of you said together.

“What?” Again your voices overlapped.

“You first,” a final time you said together. The two of you giggled before Summer spoke.

“Sabotage!”

You smiled widely and nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. We kick it up ten notches.”

“You know what Cevans likes and is weak for, and I know what’ll make my Australian blonde go nuts. We use it,” Summer added.

“Exploit the shit out of it. The gloves have to come off Summer. We turn this all the way up.”

“Jamaica Hedonism style, anything goes,” she added as she nodded in agreement.

“Our goal is to make them lose this bet. The question is who will lose first,” you finished. Summer’s face lit up, and your smile followed.

“Oh girl, this is good. Payback is a bitch!”

“May the husbands fail,” you both said together. The two of you looked determined. Your eye was on the prize, and the prize was your nut.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

TagList:

@chrisgalore @chaneajoyyy @rynabarnesrogers @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @ab-baybay @sonjashuterbugjohnson @caramara3 @patzammit @melodyofmbaku @kelbabyblue

#bet you can't fic #bet you can't collab #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #no nut november #NNN

154 notes · View notes

typhon-science · 5 years

Note

68. ("This isn’t what it looks like.") for... anything with North and Connor, if I had to pick anyone for that.

this is my first attempt at humor so like,,, proceed with caution fvgwakvfgwhkavk also it’s unbetaed except for grammarly saving my ass with some errors here and there. also no.2 i learned that prompts were supposed to be 100 words long which like,,, oops? here, have a healthy 4,1k heap of chaos instead. Enjoy.

@kianraidelcam asked to be tagged, so here you go!

68. "This isn't what it looks like."

North was just watching them. Just watching. Absolutely not breaking into their house and stealing their pets right from under their noses. No, sir.

In her defense, said illegal act hadn't been a part of her plans for that night at all.

She's just been spending her free time the usual way - which meant stalking small anti-android groups, a hobby that made her feel both productive and useful in a way none other hobbies did.

(Besides shooting things, which Markus disapproved of, as it apparently ruined the "aesthetic" of New Jericho to have gunshots going off at night. Clearly, even with his fashion sense, Markus had no sense for true aesthetic.)

The group she chose to observe that day called themselves the True Humanity. It was a really small group - nothing nearly comparable to the gangs that Cyberlife attracted to itself, or the terrorist groups that tried to snipe Markus every few months. Definitely not similar to the workings of the BIOR (Blood is only red) group, Detroit's biggest anti-android establishment that Markus was semi-forced to tolerate for the time being, even if their protesters swarmed Jericho 24/7.

True Humanity was not some masterminds' strategic plan to overthrow the android movement. Not even a boycott or a protest.

It just looked like a band of teenagers with nothing else to do.

She had been standing outside on the street, leaning against the wall, in front of their meeting point, a small, semi-collapsed shack of a house, when she overheard the conversation.

It was between two of the teenagers, the one leading the group and its member, smoking outside in front of the porch. North had been watching them for some time, choosing her place so that the shadows were in just the right position for it to be unlikely that they'd notice her.

They didn't really talk about anything interesting, spent 15 minutes bickering about sports alone.But just as she was losing patience and itching to go and see if there was something else happening in the house, she heard one of them curse and start in a different tone.

"Damn fucking bitch won't stop making more kittens. I swear, one more time and I'll shoot it, right between the eyes." He glanced towards the open door of the house.

The other followed his gaze, before taking a drag of the cigarette and asking, smoke flying off his tongue. "You still having trouble with the cat?"

"Yeah. Gonna drown the new ones today."

North system stuttered. They what?

"Why do you even keep that cat, dude. Can't you just...shoot it already or dump it on the street?"

The leader's answer was quiet. He stared into the ground, voice slightly pained. "It was my brother's."

"Oh," the other replied, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What...what exactly happened to him?"

The leader took a while to answer. "He...he was near Hart Plaza the day those plastic bastards decided they needed their freedom and vandalized the place."

North scoffed to herself but continued listening. It wasn't the worst she'd heard.

"He tried to run away, but the military mistook him for an android. He...didn't make it."

Oof. It never occurred to her, but really, how was the military supposed to know who was and wasn't a deviant? She didn't care at that time, either.

How many casualties were there? Nobody mentioned any at the meetings.

The leader took a breath and turned around when he received no reaction other than a mumbled "I'm sorry," from his accomplice, ending the conversation.

"You're right though, I should just shoot the cat. No reason for it to stay here, It'll be basically mercy." He nodded to himself, straightening up.

"Gonna shoot the kittens to while we're at it, I don't really feel like going to the river."

North's insides twisted in disgust.

She knew humans could be brutal to creatures that they considered below themselves; the acts against androids spoke for themselves just how far they'd go.

But kittens? Why would they drown kittens? There was a multitude of other things they could do that would not require such a brutal (and illegal) action. Hell, shelters still existed and all they needed was to wait until morning.

She didn't know much about pets, not many androids did, but from what she knew from Connor, humans were usually pretty fond of them. More than fond, in some cases. They were family members, even more than androids used to be (oh, how bitter she was about that.)

"You wanna help?" The other dude asked, absolutely unconcerned.

The leader shrugged. "If you want to."

North's spine went cold. Of course. Of course.

She should've guessed that people who saw no issue in gunning androids in the street would see no issue in shooting a helpless fucking kitten.

She watched as they retreated into the house, complaining about the lack of light. The absence of street lamps in the less funded parts of Detroit was actually something that went in her favor, now more than ever.

She was just supposed to watch. Connor allowed her to stalk them with only that one condition, and North initially saw no problem with it.

Now, she was on her own thin ice.

There was no reason to save that cat. None, really. A few lost kittens wouldn't make the world crash and burn.

But it nagged at her. G-ddamn empathy.

A door shut and the two teenagers came out again, a third member dragging behind. The leader carried a gun, an old rifle from the year 2027. Quite the punch, but without the reloading speed.She had to say it was a good gun when you're fighting androids in the streets.

The leader was explaining how the gun works to what she assumed was a new member. They were all completely caught up in their conversation, not paying attention to anything else.

She was so close. Given that she was an android, locating the cat and taking it away without being noticed would be a breeze. She'd just take it to the closest vet and-

Ah, yes. 2:34:27 AM. She'd take it to New Jericho then, just for the night.

Okay, okay. She could do it.

Only then she realized that she had really started planning.

I'm really doing this, huh?

Fuck Connor. She's saving a life today whether he likes it or not.

She sneaked around the fence, careful to evade detection. Thankfully, it was second nature to her from the minute she became deviant. At last, the days of constantly running and hiding like a coward were actually good for something.

As far as she was aware, True Humanity only had three members, but she'd never seen the newcomer before. Which brought the number to four and meant that one more person was inside, probably sleeping.

She assumed they were awake. Rather assume the worst and then later find out it was better than the other way around.

She went around the back of the house, finding all of the lights off. It wasn't a problem to her; one more advantage she had to herself was night-vision.

(Not all androids had it, but it was standard equipment for sexbots, of course, because how else were they supposed to find the dick in the dark? Echolocation?)

She took out her knife and opened the window to what seemed to be the kitchen and climbed inside, her night vision protocols automatically loading.

The place was a mess.

Did humans really live like this?

The first thing that hit her was the smell; burned food, mold and sweat, oppressing and stuck to every surface.

It was a sight to behold - trash everywhere, clothes and wrappers laying on the ground making her movement unnecessarily difficult and dirty dishes in the sink that she doubted were ever touched. Anti-android banners and posters covered the walls. The room was large; a kitchen connected to the living area; making her able to see the lights on the porch through the window on the other side of the room, above the couch repurposed as a bed.

She checked the couch for the fourth member while she made her way to the door. Wherever he was, it wasn't there.

She avoided stepping on the wrappers and moved over to the hall, adjusting her audio units and listening for any sign of a human presence.

She heard meowing instead.

It came from the other side of the hallway. She crouched at the door, hearing the conversation outside, and moved in the direction of the tiny sounds to the small space in the darkness in front of her.

She saw the cat's bright, reflective eyes staring back at her.

Half across the hallway, her units picked up other sounds, human breathing. It was coming from behind the wall, slowed down and deep; definitely from a sleeping person.

She knew the sound well enough; it was something that androids simulated quite well while in rest mode and she was awfully known for watching her friends sleep, paranoid and insomniac as she was.

The floorboards creaked softly, but she doubted human ears would pick that up.

The cat started hissing when she finally came close enough to touch and North realized that she actually had no idea how to handle a cat with kittens. Well, too late to stop now.

She recalled what Connor did when he wanted to pet a dog on the street and simulated the movement, curling her fingers and reaching out towards the cat.

It recoiled at first, but eventually leaned forward and sniffed her hand. Hissed again, this time quieter. Wary, not aggressive.

North finally noticed the kittens, four fluffy, breathing balls curled next to the cat. They were smaller than her own hand; their ears stuck to their heads and limbs short. She had only used to word three times in her life, but she had to say that it was, as humans said, really fucking cute.

Humans' ability to murder kept surprising her. Androids, their own, children, pets? They didn't care. They would murder everything if it got them what they wanted. Or even, if it just got rid of a problem for them.

(It had actually been what made her stop wanting to murder. Realizing that she could be better than them. After that realization, only then was she able to see what of an extraordinarily strong being Markus was. Murder was the easy way out; it took a lot of strength to avoid it.)

She reached, slowly and hesitantly, for one of the kittens, feeling tears in her eyes when she actually touched the tiny, warm body, felt the fast heartbeat and the weak breaths. How could anybody cut the lives of these creatures short? And even worse, how could they choose to?

She couldn't see the kitten's colors as her night-vision was nowhere as sophisticated as Connor's, but she knew they were beautiful. Tri-colored, by the way how some parts of them appeared darker.

She looked around for anything that she could carry the cats in, noticing a rectangular cardboard box lying on the side of the hallway. She reached for it, emptied it of the never-opened books, and laid it in front of her.

The cats watched her while she took off her jacket and placed it inside the box to create some cushioning.

Now, the hard part.

North didn't know how to handle cats. She never actually met one before, only knew how they looked and what they did, but the actual presence of one and the overall situation made her anxious.

She reached with a whispered "sorry" and lifted the animal with both of her hands, ignoring the way it scratched her synthetic skin in protest, causing drops of thirium to drip down her fingers.

The much easier transport of the kittens began as soon as she laid the cat down into the impromptu container. North hoped their meows, quite loud with the way her audio sensitivity was set on high, wouldn't alert any of the four members.

She was well aware the conversation outside stopped, but currently powerless to do anything about it.

The door opened while she was still holding the fifth kitten in midair. Her thirium pump jumped fair beyond parameters.

"What the fu-"

With the changed audio-sensitivity, the gunshot was loud enough to rattle her processor as a bullet went through her right shoulder. Warnings exploded in her vision, huge and assaulting, but all she cared about was finally closing the cardboard box and getting the fuck out.

The leader of the group stood in the light coming from the main door, gun aimed, his accomplices behind him.

"Oh, my g-d! And android!"

It was really time to go.

The door to the kitchen area was on the other side of the wall, the dude standing directly in front of it. Which left one option.

She picked up the box and broke into the other bedroom, almost falling as she stumbled into a mattress. The fourth member was there, waking up from his slumber, still obviously groggy and not exactly aware of what was going on.

She vaulted over him, trailing thirium behind her and broke the window to the outside, calibrating her leap with the safety of the cats and then jumping through.

The fall was rough for her, she could survive much more than a kitten could.

She picked herself up and started running in the direction she originally came from, knowing where the street allowed her to get to the roof.

Several gunshots rang off behind her, these only hitting the cement wall. Splinters rained down on the sidewalk.

"You fucking bitch-" the leader screamed at her, taking aim and missing again.

Excellent vocabulary there, mister.

She turned a corner and found the ladder, climbing to the roof of the abandoned apartment building.

She immediately set course to New Jericho, only then realizing that there was no way she could make it through the main door like this.

First, there were the protesters. Second, one of the leaders of Jericho just randomly showing up in the middle of the night covered in blue blood is prone to scare some of their own poor, poor people. Third, Markus was probably still awake and she was not nearly okay enough to hear whatever bullshit he'd have to say.

Her own room in New Jericho was inaccessible from the roof; she made that choice so that nobody could sneak up at her and try to kill her while in rest mode. Markus' room was the same case and even if it was accessible, she wouldn't even think of it.

Which left the one and only room which she could use. Connor's.

Connor got the ridiculously small room after everybody picked out their own, elaborating on his choice to wait and see by the claim that he wouldn't be in Jericho much anyway, which turned out to be true. North didn't know much about where he actually went or spend the nights at, but the only days he made sure he was in New Jericho were saturdays.

It was thursday. So, no Connor.

She stumbled several times while on her way to the building, her thirium pump skipping a beat each time. The cats had to make it. Had to.

She knew the thirium loss was making her partly delirious, but it was still concerning when time stopped working how it was supposed to, her awareness fading in and out as her processors tried to cope with the sudden losses of power.

But she made it in under 30 minutes. That was good.

Connor's window wasn't easy to open, the action much more difficult by her hands growing uncoordinated from the unsteady power flow, but she managed to pry it open and started climbing through, cradling the box to her chest with one hand and using the other to stabilize herself.Getting her leg through the frame without completely destroying Connor's special flowers was harder than all the other times she'd done this, but she made it eventually.

The sound of somebody clicking off a gun's safety went off.

She froze and stared into the dark, trying to find the source, while her processor struggled to give her prompts of what to say and produced one heap of utter garbage.

"This isn't what it looks like!"

Okay, North. That was definitely words.

What did it even look like? She was covered in blood, one leg in the room with the other still outside, clinging to a box full of cats like if her life depended on it and she just attempted to break into New Jericho through the room of its Security counselor of all people.

"North?!" Connor's voice. Fuck.

Only then her processor realized that yes, Connor mentioned that he's gonna be finishing some work on thursday. Damn.

The lights turned on. Connor was standing in front of the door, which was still ridiculously close to her; the room itself was more like a tiny pantry than anything that could be lived in, anyway.

His gun was already down, but she knew he had been aiming right at her head a few seconds before. His LED finally lighted up, going to yellow.

He was worried, she could tell, but she doubted she ever saw him so confused in the entire time she'd known him.

"What- did you get shot?!" There it was.

North tried to get her other leg through the window. "...a little."

"A little?!"

"Okay, actually a bit lot." Words, North. Words.

Connor rushed to help her, basically pulling her out of the window and helping her stand.

"There's blood fucking everywhere, North, what the-," he glanced over at the windowsill, "my plants!"

North honestly hadn't considered that she was still dripping thirium everywhere and that thirium was highly toxic. Ah well.

"My G-d," Connor turned to her, his gestures unusually expressive. "What the fuck is going on? North, what did you do?!"

She wasn't sure if her processor was that fucked up from the thirium loss but it sure was producing garbage instead of meaningful sentences.

"Cat. I stole... a cat," she held up the box, "uh, more like, five cats."

"What?!"

And that was the moment the cat decided to investigate the outside, pulling a black paw through a hole in the box and meowing loudly.

Connor stared at her, mouth slightly open, but he didn't say anything. Just stared as if in some kind of shock, his eyes darting from North to the cat and back to her. He didn't move. His eyes were still wide.

She shouldn't be proud of it, but Simon sure did owe her 10 dollars now that she was the one who made Connor bluescreen. Their ongoing bet was silly yet challenging, as Connor never fell speechless when he was supposed to react, always knew what to do next and what to say.

Until now, apparently.

She itched to do something, realizing that she had been staring right back at him and also hasn't moved, as if they were stuck in a staring contest unaware.

Connor moved first, shifted his weight, his expression not changing. "...okay." His voice was strained.

"Can I…?" She gestured at the box and then the desk, getting a nod in response.

She left him standing there and laid the box on the desk, sighing in relief when she found that all of the kittens survived. The cat immediately tied to jump out and North didn't blame it, given that the time it spent in the box wasn't exactly a relaxing experience.

North couldn't scan and even if she could, she wasn't sure if scanning animals for injuries would be available. She surveyed the net and tried to work with what she got, still coming up too short for her liking.

She hadn't even realized Connor moved to stand next to her until he leaned over, his LED went yellow, scanning. His calm facade was back.

"You will tell me how the fuck this happened, but for now, let's take care of these," he reached forward and let the cat, currently sitting on the table, sniff his hand. "You should be glad that I started taking veterinary courses."

North turned to him. "You what?"

"I'm pretty sure the message I conveyed was clear. Did the blood loss damage your auditory units?"

There was the Connor she knew. Cold, stone-faced, sarcastic bastard.

"Fuck you," she snapped back, getting a grin in response.

"They're all dehydrated and haven't been cared for for quite a while, but I don't see anything serious.” He straightened up, his expression going back to neutral. “They’ll stay here for the night. I can drive them to the nearest shelter tomorrow. The cat isn't chipped, so I think it should find a good home pretty fast."

She was surprised at herself when her mind recoiled at the thought. "No."

"What?"

"Mine," her voice was louder than she expected. "Mine now."

"Come again?" His eyebrows rose up.

"I'm keeping them."

"North, are you sure? Do you even know how to care for a cat?"

"No," she began, "but I almost died for them! I'm not giving them back to the humans!"

He thought it over. "North...why exactly did you steal them? I thought you went to investigate the True Humanity group."

"I did. And this was never my plan, but the dude said he was going to shoot them and I just...I just couldn't let him do it."

She saw the fire rise in Connor's eyes. She almost expected him to be shocked, but he was a detective after all; he saw what humans could do to each other, what they could do to androids.

And if there was something she knew that made the detective angry, it was the mistreatment of helpless animals.

"So," his voice was firm. He was, indeed, fucking mad. "They shot you? Because you broke into their house to save these?"

She nodded, looking back at the kittens. They were tri-colored, her search identifying the coloring as calico, except for one, which was fully black.

Her eyes with the mother cat’s and she noted their color – copper-brown, whiskey at the edges.

Connor was rubbing his hands together, his LED yellow. "Don't worry about the law, I'll cover it for you."

She nodded again, trying not to show her relief. "Thanks."

"Do you have anything to do tomorrow? I'd rather get to the vet as soon as possible."

North crossed her hands. "When did you get the right to command me about this?" she teased.

Connor straightened and put his hands behind his back, a habit he still hasn't let go. "North, you don't know how to care for a cat and these will need more than what you can google. I want to help."

"Sure," she chuckled. "You're just a sap."

His expression dropped. He actually looked hurt as he stared on the ground.

"Fine! You're co-owning them."

His eyes lighted up instantly. It was pure excitement, which was also something she didn't see on him often.

"So, 6am tomorrow?" She asked.

He nodded. "I'm not letting you off the hook about breaking into the house of an anti-android group just yet, but this is way more important."

Connor reached for one of the kittens, petting it with extremely careful movements. "I'm going to order the supplies shortly, but I'll wait on your input if you have color preferences and such."

"Yeah," she said, opening a connection and sending the information.

She lifted her hand, intending to fix her hair, frowning when she noticed it was covered in blue. Ah, yes, bullet wound.

She looked down on the floor, relief washing over her when she noticed the thirium loss was much weaker as her self-repair systems kicked into gear. The floor had quite a lot of bloody footprints, though. Connor hadn't noticed yet. She should leave before he does.

"I...I think I'm gonna go get repairs now."

"You should be glad it didn't hit anything important," Connor said with a slight frown as he looked at her.

"I am."

She hesitated for a while. "Take care of them, okay? I'm gonna be back in an hour or two."

"Of course. "He replied with a nod and a smile.

She nodded back and gave the cats a last look before she turned and left through the door.

She noticed Markus incoming from the other side of the hallway, doing his typical waltz-walk. Their eyes met. If she won't leave now, he will notice.

Not today, sir.

Too many things happened. Too much new.

She turned in the other direction and sped up, hoping he wouldn't notice the blue footprints she was probably still leaving behind.

19 notes · View notes

havecourage-darling · 6 years

Text

Million Reasons, Ch. 2: During

banner credit: @spiderszman

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Established Relationship Words: ~13k Warnings: Cursing & some graphic injury descriptions A/N: Yeah...this ran away from me a bit. I did warn you all about it. If you want to be added onto the taglist - let me know! Again, ignore any mistakes. This whole story was put together quite hastily so please forgive any obvious errors.

-Additionally, this wasn’t showing up in the tags so I deleted and reposted on my new laptop and it worked? Sorry to those who already liked!-

Chapter One: Before | Masterlist | Ao3

Chapter Two of Three: During

A sharp gust of cold air hit a patch of exposed skin around your neck and you shivered almost violently.

Where was he? You pulled your coat tighter around yourself.

You glanced at your phone for the tenth time in the last five minutes and tapped your foot against the curb.

Having both managed to get off early on a Friday, Peter and you had planned to catch a movie and dinner. You’d missed each other for a few days now, with your conflicting schedules. You always went to sleep without him home and he’d wake up with you already gone for the day. He was supposed to have met you almost two hours ago.

Huffing, you called him again and got his voicemail.

“Peter, if you forgot about me again because of some experiment, I’m going to put Nair in your shampoo.” You looked around and frowned. “If something happened to you, I’m going to kill you. Call me, please.”

You crossed your arms and shifted your weight, deciding to wait a few more minutes. A group of teenagers passed you. The tallest one shook his head and pointed at his phone. “That’s so dope man, look at his moves!”

“He’s cool as hell, I bet you I could do a flip like that!”

The other teenager laughed, shaking his head. Soon, they were gone from your line of sight.

Already knowing, you closed your eyes and sighed. You walked towards the bar next to the theater and peeked in. The wide screen television on top of the bar was set on the news. A shaky cellphone video was playing under the BREAKING NEWS header and a flash of red and blue blurred across the television. There was a good sized crowd huddled under the television, staring up at it in awe. The anchor woman came back into frame and she smiled.

“As always, Spiderman was spotted helping the victims of this heinous crime. The 56th precinct is now on scene providing him with back up.”

Not wanting to linger, you shut the door and started walking towards the subway. Before you could even get lost in your thoughts, a black town car with tinted windows drove up next to where you were standing. The passenger window rolled down and you saw Happy.

“Long time no see,” he greeted.

“Long time,” you agreed. “Who sent you? Tony or Peter?”

Happy winced. “Both. Peter says sorry, got caught up in the thing downtown.”

“Yeah, I saw,” you said, lips pursed.

“He asked me to drive you home. He looked real torn up about it, don’t be mad at the kid. He’s a good apple. Besides, he said he’d bring pizza home but I got you some of the good stuff from fifth anyway.”

Leaning in, you saw a pizza box sitting on the passenger seat. You knew Peter well enough to know he already felt horrible for standing you up. The smell of pizza wafted up and you took a deep breathe.

“Come on, you know you want to.”

You smiled, the annoyance lifting and slowly ebbing away.

Nodding, you slid into the backseat. “Alright, you won me over. The Yankees are on soon, you got somewhere you gotta be?”

“I’m all yours.”

///

The next morning, as usual, you gingerly walked passed a snoring Peter and stuck a post-it on his chest. Bidding Chewie a goodbye, you left for a long shift ahead of you.

Unfortunately, halfway through your shift you’d been called to help a few men that had gotten into a bar fight. The tallest one had managed to drunkenly knock you into the wall - where a shelf hit your bad shoulder just right.

Fortunately, you had enough ice packs to last you a lifetime and were given only easy calls for the remainder of your shift.

You helped load an elderly woman into the bed of the ambulance and assured her that your coworkers would take good care of her. She squeezed your hand before bidding you goodbye.

You closed the doors behind you and knocked on the side window.

The second ambulance had shown up, both of you having been called into the same location and they’d agreed to take the woman. He waved a hand and pulled out of the parking spot.

You looked at your watch and stretched out your sore shoulder. “And that’s a wrap folks, last call of the night,” you grinned. “I cannot wait to get home and sink into my couch. I’ll never leave that spot again.”

Walking passed a crowded area, you stopped in your tracks. “Wait - hold on!” You called out.

“What?” Daria, your partner for the day, asked. “Girl, if it’s someone who looks hurt call in another unit - I’ve been on for longer than I need to be.”

Laughing, you shook your head. “No - look!”

You usually rode with your best friend - both of you having gone through your certification together and everything since. Daria was friendly, but was still new to the crew and you hadn’t had the chance to really speak with her. She was, however, always professional and had one of the best bedside manners you’d ever seen.

“That’s it,” you said excitedly, walking towards the closed restaurant. It’s hours indicated that it should open within the hour. “This is where Peter got our reservations.”

“No shit?” Daria whistled. “This is the place? Looks fancy - figures, we’re on the Upper East Side.”

You grinned and turned to her. “You should see their website, the food looks amazing. I already know what I’m going to order.”

She leaned in over your shoulder to glance at the menu. “Jeez, this place doesn’t even list their prices on the menu. That’s how you know it’s too expensive for me.”

“Courtesy of Tony Stark,” you shrugged, smile still on your face. “I need to send him a thank you card.”

“You need to introduce me to your patron saint Tony Stark is what you need to do,” Daria grinned. “What anniversary is it?”

“Seven years.”

“Damn,” Daria shook her head and stopped walking to shoot you a disbelieving look. “Seven years? That’s unheard of now a days. How do you do it? I can’t even get a second date. Teach me your ways.”

You smiled and felt suddenly bashful. “I don’t...know?”

“Oh, come on!”

“No really,” you laughed and dodged her balled up napkin. “We’re high school sweethearts. I don’t really know what it’s like to not have him there.”

“Romantic,” she said, dryly.

You shrugged again and hopped into the passenger's seat to your ambulance.

“What’s it like then?” Daria pulled out of the lot and stopped at a light. “I’ve never made it passed three years. My high school boyfriend and I broke up because college got too hard - you know, being apart.”

“Peter and I went to different schools too but, it was different then. We were still giddy around each other. I don’t mean to be a cliche but, it feels like he’s my second half. He’s my best friend. I love him and I know he loves me, no matter what. He’s been...my entire world for a long time. It’s hard to describe.”

Daria grinned. “Yeah, I know, I see the way you two look at each other. That boy is definitely in love.”

“It’s not always easy,” you told her. “We don’t agree on most things.”

“I hear that,” Daria shook her head. “This girl I’ve been seeing, she’s very much about veganism and gives me all these talking tos. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals! You’ve met my rescue - but, I’m from the south baby. You can’t try to lecture me out of a good medium rare steak.”

You laughed and knocked her shoulder. “Daria!”

“What?” She grinned. “Oh, some ribs would be amazing right now. You want to swing by for some? I just got my new car and it still has that smell to it.”

“That’s how I know you’re from Georgia, you bought a car to drive in New York City,” you joked. “Us real New Yorkers know how to slum it on the subway.”

Daria rolled her eyes. “You try commuting from Westchester.”

“I might as well, Queens feels like it’s just as far.”

“So?” Daria expertly pulled into the ambulance bay and waved when a few of your coworkers shouted their greetings. “You up? I think Rob and Aziz are coming along.”

“Thanks but Peter’s picking me up,” you said. “Or at least he should be.”

Daria turned to glance at you and frowned at your expression. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the locker room.

“He stood me up for dinner yesterday,” you explained. “Two hours later, he let me know a work emergency came up.”

“Aw, but if he’s not usually like that...you know better than anyone how some of us can get stuck with a patient. Besides, you two are the most solid couple - that I know anyway.”

Your face must have given off more than you’d like because she shoots you a concerned look. “Unless there’s something else going on?”

Trying to appease her and diffuse the awkward tension you stumbled for an answer.

“It’s just…” How could you explain to her that Spiderman sometimes weighed you down, more than you could handle? That the non-traditional life you’d both liked as teenagers wasn’t so appealing anymore as an adult? Even your own career - you were always getting hurt during your working hours.

You had too many aches for someone who was in their early twenties. Life felt very up in the air now, and while you weren’t looking for a picket fence with two point five kids and a golden retriever...a little stability would be nice.

Closing your locker, you sat down on the bench as you waited for her to finish up.

“It’s just, sometimes it feels like work will always be more important than me, you know? I’m not getting any younger.”

Daria smiled sympathetically. “I get it, but, seven years is a long time to keep something like that bottled up. I say talk to him about it - he may even surprise you. And stop trying to act like you’re old, you’re making me look bad.”

You thought it over as you walked out into the rec room and you nodded. “You’re right-”

“Hey Wonder Woman!” One of your coworkers shouted. You rolled your eyes - you had gotten the nickname after the infamous accident on the BQE.

You lifted your gaze, looking for whoever had called for you.

Finding Aziz in the far right corner, by the vending machines, you smiled.

“I found something that belongs to you,” he said, pointing to Peter who was standing by the entrance with a sheepish smile.

“Hey you,” he said once you got close enough.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “I thought we were going to meet in an hour? Didn’t you have that project?”

Peter shrugged. “I left early, I didn’t want you to have to wait for me.”

“I would’ve waited-”

“-I know, that’s why I didn’t want you to,” he said softly.

Glancing up at him, you found him smiling sadly at you.

“I’m sorry you had to wait for me so long yesterday, I promise, I’ll try my best so that it won’t happen again.”

You snorted. You knew that he’d meant it but, it’s not like he could schedule in when a robbery was going to take place. However, you knew that he genuinely meant it.

Peter tapped a finger on your chin, silently asking you to look at him.

“Are we okay?”

You smiled, not helping yourself.

“Yeah, Spiderman, we’re okay,” you whispered.

Peter beamed and pulled your face towards his.

You spent enough time deepening the kiss that a series of cheering and whistles came from behind you.

“Get a room you two!”

“It’s disgusting how in love you two are.”

“Seriously! You don’t need to rub it into our pathetically single faces!”

You laughed and buried your face into Peter’s chest. He shook with laughter and rose a hand.

“See you later assholes!” You yelled behind you raising a hand.

Loud kissing noises followed and you shook your head.

“Hey,” Peter said, burying his nose into your hair. “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled. “I missed you too.”

///

“Ugh,” you groaned as you lifted the heavy pan onto the stove top.

Work had been particularly hard the past few days - especially considering that you’d jumped at the chance at overtime since Peter had left on another spontaneous Avengers trip.

You lifted your shoulder methodically, rubbing at a particular sore spot and continued cooking.

Tonight was the first night all week that he’d be home for dinner. He’d promised he was going to be free from patrolling for a few nights after he got back – so you could both finally enjoy each other’s company.

While you rarely cooked, because you were one of the laziest people on earth, you were trying to make an effort. You knew how much he loved your chicken marsala so despite your aching shoulder – aching body really – you wanted to make it a good night. You’d even gone so far as to beg an hour early off of work to go across town to get dessert from his favorite bakery.

After a few more hours on your feet, you collapsed onto the couch. Chewie immediately jumped into your lap and purred loudly.

“I’m just going to shut my eyes for a second, just until he gets home,” you said around a yawn.

He meowed, kneading your leg. With the combination of the warmth and Chewie’s constant purring you were asleep within minutes.

You jolted awake at the sound of your neighbor’s door slamming shut, what felt like seconds later, and looked around feeling a little disoriented. Loud purring brought your attention down to Chewie, who was rubbing his head against your stomach.

Scratching his ears, you rubbed one of your eyes and noticed the sun had disappeared. You tapped your phone and your stomach sunk.

10:30PM - two hours passed the time Peter was supposed to be home. A text notification blinked menacingly at you.

Pressing it, you saw a voice note.

“Hey! I’m so, so, so sorry but I’m going to be a little late tonight. Something came up – Tony needed me - you know how it goes. I’ll make it up to you, I promise! Karen says hi! I love you!”

Karen cheerfully greeted you in the background, over the sound of sirens.

You sighed. You weren’t angry, or upset, not really. Just a little...disappointed. You missed him, after the last time he’d stood you up - you’d both taken time off to actively spend together. It seemed, however, like the cycle had started up again. You knew his excuse was valid but-

Meow.

You smiled down at Chewie and scratched under his chin.

“Guess it’s just us Chewie.”

He meowed loudly up at you and you grinned.

Despite your lack of anger, when you heard Peter sneak into the bathroom - groaning in pain a few hours later - you blinked up at the ceiling for a moment. You bit your bottom lip, turned towards the window, and closed your eyes.

You had an early shift tomorrow.

///

“Uber’s here!” Peter called out from the living room.

Cursing, you grabbed a set of boots and struggled to put them on. “I’m coming!”

Stumbling into the hallway, you smoothed your dress down and pulled on a sweater in case the restaurant was cold.

“Pete, does this sweater ruin the outfit?” You asked, pulling on one of the sleeves. When he didn’t answer, you looked up.

Peter was staring at you, that familiar wide eyed look you knew so well.

Smiling, you felt a little flustered - Peter always complimented you but seeing him stumble was just as satisfying.

“You- you look - you look-” Peter stuttered.

“What?” You asked innocently, running a hand down your waist. “This old thing?”

Peter smiled at your teasing and pretended to be deep in thought. “You know, on second thought, who needs to spend an anniversary at some fancy restaurant? I can think of a few different things we could do instead…”

“Oh no, Mister,” you danced away from his wandering hands. “We can do whatever you want after we go to dinner. I’ve wanted to go to this place since it opened and, at this point, I’d go without you to be honest.”

“Hey!” Peter protested as you shrugged on your coat.

“Come on!” You urged, laughingly. “Molten waits for no one!”

///

You sipped your drink while you waited by the bar when you felt something pinch you.

“Peter!” You squeaked as his wandering hand found your butt, for the third time, and you swatted at him. “We are in public behave yourself!”

His huff of laughter was muffled into your neck and he burrowed himself closer to you. “I can’t help it,” he whined. “You knew what you were doing when you wore that dress.”

You laughed and Peter smiled.

“Stark, party of two?” A light voice called out.

Peter lifted his hand and took yours with the other. “Finally.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, you’re impatient. It’s been five minutes.”

He turned around, winked and you rolled your eyes again.

“They’re going to get stuck like that,” he joked.

“Good, then you’ll know how I feel about you all the time.”

Before he could give an answering quip, the hostess sat you both down at a table by the window.

“Your server for this evening will be by shortly.”

“Thank you,” you smiled up at her.

She bustled away and you turned to look at Peter. “This place is so fancy, Jesus, that guy over there is in a suit!”

“I’m in a suit,” Peter said, offended.

“And you look very handsome-” Peter preened, “-but every time I passed by this place and thought, ‘Oh man I wish we could eat there, the reviews are great and the food looks amazing,’ I didn’t think it was this upscale.”

You fought your urge to start chewing on one of your freshly manicured nails. There were so many utensils you didn’t know which one to use. “Is my hair okay?” You asked him, patting down the spots where strays usually went.

Peter laughed lightly and grabbed one of your hands. “Stop worrying, who cares if we stick out? Your hair is fine and you look beautiful. One might even say you look amazefull.”

Beaming, you squeezed his hand and felt a rush of affection for him.

“Good evening, my name is Amber and I’ll be your server for this evening.” A tall slender blonde woman introduced herself, seemingly appearing out of thin air. “I have here that you two are celebrating an anniversary – congratulations! How long have you two been married?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed and mumbled: “Stark.”

You gave his hand a warning squeeze. “Thank you. We’re not married, we’ve been together for seven years as of a week ago.”

Amber apologized and congratulated you both before disappearing to get your drinks.

“Oh, husband, I didn’t know we were here celebrating our marriage.”

“It was Tony!” Peter squeaked.

“Are you sure?” You teased. “Should I be looking in my dessert for a ring? You should just tell me now in case I swallow it whole and accidentally choke on it.”

“I’m not- you’re not- I wouldn’t!” He stumbled over his words, face flushing pink.

You laughed, trying to muffle the noise with your hand and Peter glared at you.

“I’m sorry, it was too easy,” you grinned.

Peter reached out and tangled his hands in yours. “You know, you shouldn’t be so mean to me.”

You flipped through the menu with your free hand and smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lucky I find that sexy,” Peter said loudly.

This time, you flushed, and glared at him. “Peter!”

He grinned and pretended not to have heard you. Before you could kick him under the table, an older man cleared his throat.

“I don’t mean to be a nosy old man,” he started.

“But you are!” A woman across from him said, she had a wide grin but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, he’s always been like this.”

“My name is Charles and this is my wife Margaret. You two remind me of my wife and I when we were younger,” he smiled kindly. “We were high school sweethearts. I couldn’t help but overhear and just had to say congratulations. We’re celebrating our 55th anniversary.”

Your eyes widened. “Congratulations!”

Peter smiled and leaned in closer. “What’s the secret?”

Charles’ eyes lit up and he shared a knowing look with his wife. “You gotta ask her to marry you before she smarts up and finds someone better!”

Margaret let out a laugh and nudged her husband. “Don’t pressure them, kids nowadays don’t live like we used to.”

Peter’s face flushed red and you laughed, delighted. “It’s no pressure at all. He’s asked actually, twice.”

It was a running joke in your circle of friends. Peter had asked you to marry him at your high school graduation and college graduation. You’d rejected him both times, to Tony’s everlasting amusement, telling him that you were both too young. You knew you were going to marry him one day, you just – Peter had a different idea of love.

Peter had grown up watching his parents and then watching Ben and Aunt May.

You, on the other hand, were the child of a nasty divorce. While you had great relationships with both your parents, you’d learned to become cautious when it came to marriage.

Despite your rejection, both proposals were good memories.

Margaret’s laughter pulled you back into the conversation. “Poor guy, you got him waiting around?” She joked.

Peter, still red-faced, smiled kindly. “I’d wait an eternity for her.”

This time you flushed and you beamed at him.

“Besides, it’s her turn to ask next.”

You laughed, nodded, and took a sip of your drink.

“Aw, he’s a sweetheart. You’re both sweethearts,” Margaret looked pleased. “You two are one of the good ones, I know it.”

“Now who’s being nosy?” Her husband joked.

“Don’t start!”

Amber placed your glasses down onto your table and a few complimentary snacks. You thanked her and quickly started on a few pieces of bread.

Moaning, you closed your eyes. “Even the bread is amazing. Try that sauce, it looks like liquid gold - Peter?”

Peter had a distant look in his eyes, one that was painfully familiar.

“Pete?” You took his hand and squeezed.

He blinked, eyes refocusing on you. His grip on you tightened and his face went serious.

“Code red and blue,” he said quietly.

“Now?” You asked incredulously. “Peter, you can’t be serious.”

He opened his mouth but before he could’ve said anything, a series of muffled popping noises came from beyond the door. Half a second later loud screams echoed from the front of the restaurant.

“You need to trust me. Something’s coming,” Peter said quickly, “I can’t make out what but-”

The unmistakable sound of gunshots boomed and shortly after, the entire front window to the restaurant shattered as a car flew through it. Peter lunged across the table, grabbed you under your arms and flung you both backwards.

Only years of practice had you clinging onto his torso and going pliant in his grip, knowing that it was easier for him to maneuver you that way. You felt him move quickly and he landed behind the counter of the second bar.

“Go!” He yelled at a few frightened employees, hiding. “Go through the kitchens! Take anyone you find with you!”

“Peter,” you patted his chest, looking for any injuries. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, are you-”

“I’m good,” you took deep breaths, trying to steady yourself. “What was that?”

Peter peeked over the counter and you followed suit.

The entire restaurant was in chaos. The people who’d avoided the cars trajectory ran wildly in panic. The majority of people were thrown across the room. The smoke from the crashed car was filling the room quickly.

“I think it’s a robbery but I’m not sure-” he was cut off by a buzzing. He fumbled for his phone and you caught Tony’s picture.

“Hello? Yeah - we’re both okay. I think it’s just a drunk driver- it’s what?” Peter shouted over the noise of the room. “Yeah, I’ve got it. I’m on my way - I’ll meet you at the bank.”

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for something and coming up with a comms unit. He placed it into your hand and pointed to your ear.

“Put that in - you’ll be able to hear anyone on the line soon enough. It’ll activate when Karen’s online.”

“Wait - Peter, what happened?”

Peter began shrugging off his jacket and huffed. “A group of enhanced ex-CIA have been hitting banks along the east coast. We thought they would skip over New York because of Tony but they hit his bank instead.”

“Ballsy,” you huffed, helping him shed his twisted jacket. “He’s on his way?”

Peter nodded, checking his watch and waiting to activate his suit. “I’m going to get that car out the front so the ambulances can get to the injured. Tony says a few of them have regular agents with them - they’re the ones shooting. Stay safe and do not put your life on the line for someone else.”

You snorted. “I could say the same to you.”

Peter glared at you and went to scramble for the kitchen doors. “I’ll find you when I can. I love you.”

You grabbed Peter’s tie and pulled him towards you, kissing him quickly. “Please, be careful.”

“You too,” he kissed you again and disappeared through the kitchen.

Taking a few deep breaths, you straightened your shoulders. Your training kicked in and you steadied. You kicked your feet against the cornered wall, breaking off your heels and you pulled your hair into a hasty knot.

A loud screeching sound from behind you indicated that Peter had started pulling the crushed car from it’s place. Time to move.

You stood, crouched over and glanced around for any serious injuries first. Your eyes found Charlie. Pushing passed a few panicked people, you maneuvered your way to him.

“Thank God,” Charlie said when he saw you, voice trembling. “Someone pushed her and she can’t get up.”

You saw Margaret sprawled out on the floor, her leg bent an odd angle. “Don’t worry, I’m an

paramedic. I am going to help you the best I can.” You worked quickly, securing her leg and making sure she had no other visible injuries.

“That should hold. She’s in shock Charlie, so I need you to keep this around her.” You wrapped a few tablecloths around her tightly. “First responders should be here within a few minutes, it’s already been five minutes so far and the block has been cleared. She doesn’t look to have any other injuries, keep her talking. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

He nodded, focused expression on his face. “Be careful.”

You glanced around at two women a few feet away. One was holding a napkin to the other’s abdomen and crying loudly.

You straightened your shoulders, let’s get to work.

///

A few minutes, or hours - you had lost any grasp on time that you’d had - a team of first responders rushed into the restaurant.

A woman, one you faintly recognized from a unit in Midtown, grabbed your shoulder. You shook her off and continued to apply pressure to your patient’s shoulder. Listing off your badge number and hospital, you started giving out instructions.

“I got a few GSWs, multiple broken bones but I’ve tied red napkins to those who I think are more serious. You should take those first - the rest are injuries that can wait,” you instructed.

She nodded, relaying the information into her radio. “What about this one?”

“This is Lila, she’s seventeen and going to Yale in the fall. Kinda of a smartypants but I like her.”

The teenager smiled weakly and groaned as the EMT worked to secure a neck brace around her neck.

“She was waiting to be sat when one of the first gunshots hit her. It missed her artery, but it doesn’t have an exit.”

She quickly takes over and you head towards the next critical case to help in anyway you can.

By the time the police close off the street and most of the critical cases were taken out - you were exhausted and your shoulder was killing you.

By some miracle, you managed to not lose your phone or wallet but your keys were somewhere in the remains of the restaurant.

You didn’t realize how much adrenaline you had pumping until you were coming down from it and the familiar impending crash had you slumping.

A lingering EMT glanced at you and wrapped a space blanket around you. A loud voice called out your name and you darted around, looking towards the sound.

Charlie waved and you smiled. Jogging over to them, you saw that the EMT had already hooked her up to a drip, probably administering a pain reliever.

“Thank you dear, you were incredible in there,” Charlie told you, motioning towards the paramedic. “She’s one of you too, she helped set my wife’s leg.”

The guy glanced at you and nodded. “I’ve seen you around - Brooklyn right?”

You nodded and winced when your shoulder was jostled. He straightened and eyed you critically. “You hurt? Have you been looked at?”

You huffed, a puff of air shooting out into the cold air. “I’m fine.”

He hummed disbelievingly. “How about you ride with your friends in the back? Mount Sinai is only a five minute ride.”

Frowning, you were about to reject the offer but Charlie shot you a stern look. “Young lady, you need to be looked at by a doctor.”

Feeling chagrined and mostly exhausted, you nodded. “Alright, alright, I’ll go.”

Charlie beamed and climbed into the back of the truck. You waved off the helping hand and hauled yourself into the back corner.

True to his word, you make it to the hospital in a few minutes. You helped Charlie into the right room and stumbled back out into the medic bay - needing a breath of fresh air.

The cold woke you up and you searched your pockets for your half-shattered phone. A small clear earbud fell out by your feet and you picked it up.

Suddenly you remembered the comms and shoved it into your ear.

It takes a few moments but a cheerful Karen greeted you by name and tuned you into the main line. Announcing you, a surprisingly calm Natasha huffed.

“Where’ve you been? Peter said he gave you comms an hour ago,” Natasha huffed. “We thought you’d been hit.”

“Sorry,” you said, already rushing out towards the main avenue on your left. “I was taken to Mount Sinai, where are you guys?”

“What?” Peter squeaked and grunted right after.

“Not for me,” you said quickly. “Our table-neighbors. I rode with them.”

“We’re five blocks from the restaurant, these idiots have a lot more firepower than we thought,” Tony interrupted. “Go towards your left on Broadway.”

“Who’s on the line?” You veered left.

“Hey kiddo,” Steve’s voice came through, gunshots evident from his side.

“On your left Romanoff!” Bucky yelled.

“You were just waiting until all the heavy lifting was done,” Sam joked. You looked up and could make out a faint outline of wings. You followed his trajectory and could hear more gunshots from your left.

“I’m on a roof a few avenues down from you if you want to join me. I got an extra crossbow,” Clint said.

You laughed, despite the situation and slowly jogged towards Clint. “Thanks but we all know what happened the last time you guys gave me a bow and arrow.”

“I thought the fire feature was off!” Tony said defensively. “How was I supposed to know she was going to destroy half the floor?”

“What can I do?”

“How’s your shoulder?” Natasha asked. “You got anything on you?”

“It’s fine.” You frowned. “Most of my stuff is in whatever’s left of the restaurant.”

“Incoming!” Sam yelled.

You looked up and saw Sam dive towards you. He landed gracefully on your right and huffed, out of breath.

“You good?” You asked, hands already reaching for a nasty gash on his head.

“Yeah,” he leaned into your touch and almost slumped into you. “Just a little tired. It’d be easier if we had Wanda.”

“Where is she?”

“Wakanda with Vision,” Tony answered for you.

“Alright, this is all I got for you - just in case. Stay tight on the ground - one of us will need you at some point.” Sam dropped a small first aid duffel that you knew Clint carried in the quintjet and a few guns.

“I do not need five guns,” you said, pushing all but one back to him. “I’d end up shooting myself in the ass or something.”

Sam laughed but before he could’ve said anything - you were both jolted by Tony’s shout.

“Back up - I need some back up!” Tony wheezed.

Sam winked at you and took off a millisecond later. You glanced around, looking for somewhere that you could stick to without being too close to ground zero.

“You want some company?” You asked Clint.

“Sure, take the entrance on 6th - the elevator will only take you to the 10th floor. You gotta climb out to the roof.”

“Roger that, be there in five,” you said, taking off towards the building where you could now see multiple arrows being shot off from.

Before you could make it to the door, you heard Peter’s voice.

“I think I got a chance, Sam cover me.”

“Wait, Parker!” Tony said.

You glanced up towards the building where they had managed to corner the leader to. You saw Iron Man’s suit zooming towards a blue-skinned, angry figure. Before he could get there, Peter swung into view.

“Stop! Look at his left-”

You couldn’t make out what was happening from your point of view. Glancing around, you noticed a crowd of people behind a police car, watching a cluster of TVs. You ran towards the them, where all the television units reflected Peter swinging towards the leader. He managed to get a few punches in before he was swiped and thrown off camera. Your stomach clenched and Tony screamed out.

Finally, a bright blue blast of energy shot out and hit it’s target. Peter dropped limply and his pained groan echoed in your ear. The crowd around you gasped and your eyes welled up.

You watched as one of the henchmen grabbed him and flung him aside like a rag doll.

“Peter!” You screamed, voice hoarse.

“Kid!” Tony schotued, his red suit going after the man who’d swiped at Peter. “I got him - Sam - take the others! Anyone have eyes on the Parker?”

Jumping over an NYPD barrier, you dodged an angry police officer.

You faintly heard Natasha yelling: “She’s got clearance, let her go!”

Running as fast as you could towards the direction you last saw Peter, your chest heaved. You heard your name being called through the comms but you ignored them all.

Your heart stopped as you saw Peter lying on the ground, motionless. Your brain, which had been running on a hundred throughout the whole night, seemed to empty the second it saw Peter’s body. You don’t even move to his side until Tony screamed at you through your comms.

“Peter?” You said quietly, your trembling hand going to his face. You tore the mask off and blanched when you saw how pale he was.

“Friday?” You called out.

“Yes Miss,” she responded in your ear.

“Is he - does he have a pulse?” You asked, voice cracking, not able to bring yourself to check.

The beat of silence before Friday answered you was one of the longest moments of your life.

“Yes, his BPM is currently at sixty.”

You slumped over, a sob trapping itself in your throat.

Invigorated, you clamored over him to check him for any obvious critical injuries. Your hand brushed against something wet and you quickly focused towards it. Ignoring the minor injuries, you looked towards his lower waist. Pulling on his suit to get a better look, you gaped at the sight.

Earlier in the week, you’d treated a teenage boy who had managed to break his collarbone. It had snapped and broken through his shoulder. Last week, you and Daria had found that a man had gotten his hand stuck in a garbage disposal. You’d helped Tony with multiple medical cases - to say that you’ve seen your fair share of grotesque injuries was putting it mildly.

But - at the sight of the gaping hole in Peter’s lower abdomen, with chunks of singed skin falling easily, you immediately clamored a few feet away and promptly threw up all the contents in your stomach. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand a few seconds later and tried to take deep steadying breaths. You opened your eyes and almost screamed at the sight of red streaks on your knees.

You looked around and realized you’d been kneeling in a puddle of Peter’s blood. Your eyes went back to the torn flesh and the sob finally made its way out your throat.

“Peter - Peter oh my God,” your vision darkened, a sign of your blood pressure dropping and you willed yourself to stay conscious.

“F-Friday, what’s his vitals?” You asked, ripping off your sweater and uselessly using it to apply pressure to the wound. Instantly, your sweater was soaked with his blood.

“Blood pressure is dropping, pulse is slowing, death is imminent without further treatment. Transfusion is strongly recommended.”

“He’s losing too much b-blood-” You heard yourself stutter out. “I-I can’t carry him.”

You sat, gaping at him, frozen. You couldn’t lose him - he couldn’t die. He couldn’t. But you couldn’t make your hands move.

Out of all the moments to freeze, you couldn’t understand why it had to be now. But no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind seemed stuck in a state of shock. It was like you had left your body and was watching everything from a different perspective.

Suddenly, Peter’s eyes fluttered open when you pushed a little harder into his wound and he groaned. His glazed eyes looked towards you, not seeing anything. Suddenly your brain whirred to life and you pressed your fingers into his neck, feeling for his slow pulse.

“It’s me,” you said brokenly. “I’m here, I’m trying to h-help – stay still.”

His eyes slipped closed and you felt him go limp.

“Come on, dammit,” you cursed. “He’s losing too much blood Tony...he’s not going to make it if we don’t move him now.”

“I’ve got it!” You heard Natasha scream.

“Go Tony, go!” Steve urged.

Your voice was trembling and your hands tried to keep the wounds compressed but you were starting to lose it again. You knew, logically, that his odds weren’t good. You didn’t know what other injuries he had and you had no way of stopping the bleeding. You glanced down at his limp body and started to cry. You recognized, as any other paramedic would know in a situation like this one, that he was going to die. You could hear your professor’s voice - “Sometimes all you can do is make them comfortable.”

Angrily, you pushed that memory to the back of your head and looked around helplessly for anything that could staunch the bleeding.

Friday’s voice pulled you out of your chaotic panic. “Mr. Stark is two minutes away.”

“Where the hell are you?” You screamed.

“I’m on my way, he had me cornered. I can take him back to the tower.”

“Tony – he’s losing too much blood. It’s – he’s dying,” you choked out, voice hysterical. “He’s going to be dead in a few minutes.”

“Keep it together soldier,” he said sternly. “I can see you now, look up.”

You craned your neck and saw a red dot growing bigger as it flew towards you.

“Fuck.”

Instantly, little nanobots detached from his suit and planted themselves to Peter’s body. “It’ll help with the bleeding until I get to the tower,” he explained.

Tony lifted Peter up as well as he could and glanced at you. “Natasha, Clint and Steve are stuck distracting the entourage. I took out the leader - Bucky or Sam is coming for you. He’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“Tony please,” you croaked.

“I know kid, I know,” Tony’s mask fell back down and he was gone.

You looked down at your trembling blood-stained hands and the puddle of blood you were kneeling in. Your dress was torn, your knees skinned and one of your ankles was starting to swell. But all you could think about was Peter’s cold skin and vacant look.

It’s all your fault. You cried, alone, and covered in Peter’s blood. It’s all your fault.

You don’t know how long you sit there, half-out of your mind, when a warm hand touched your shoulder.

“Come on doll, I got you,” Bucky said quietly. “I got you.”

///

You have close to no recollection to how you arrived at the Stark Tower. One moment, Bucky was picking you up off the street and then you were being ushered off a helicopter and into the medical bay.

Steve plucked you out of Natasha and Bucky’s arms and hugged you tightly. You buried your face into his chest and clung back.

“Wanda’s on her way back,” Steve said. “She’s almost here. Tony went to get May. He’s in surgery with Bruce. It’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

The next time you managed to come back to consciousness, you were being led out of a waiting area and into a large room. Peter’s bruised and pale body had a intubation tube and so many wires attached to his body that you were dizzy just looking at him. The monitor behind him beeped unobtrusively. You squinted, taking in as much information as you could.

A frowning, dark skinned woman with long braided hair popped up on a screen in front of Tony.

“Move him to the side Tony, what are his vitals? Did you manage to attach the artificial veins in surgery?”

You watched them move around in a flurry – Dr. Banner eventually walked in, offering help to Tony when he started throwing an angry fit.

You, on the other hand, felt like you’d had your heart scooped out and dropped onto the bed next to Peter’s lifeless body. It seemed like the only thing you were able to do was watch his chest rise and fall. You weren’t aware of anything around you. You could faintly hear your blood rushing, your erratic pulse and hitched breath.

How could it have gotten this bad? How could you just stand on the sidelines and watch him do this to himself? Year after year...you were always there to pick up the pieces. You’d never thought about a time that there wouldn’t be anything to put back together.

Most importantly - how could you have saved so many lives that night but failed him?

A voice eventually pierced your fog. “Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want anything? You haven’t eaten in hours.” You mechanically looked up to see Pepper’s empathetic face.

“Does it get easier?” You asked her, your voice dull. “Seeing them like that? Feeling this useless?”

Her eyes darted to where Tony stood, brows furrowed over one of his charts. Pepper’s pretty face contorted into something sad and remorseful.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Is it worth it?” You asked, eyes returning back to Peter. “Watching someone you love this much destroy themselves?”

There was a beat of silence and a soft sigh. “Not all the time.”

///

You must have fallen asleep because when you woke up, you found Aunt May sitting across from you. Someone had brought her a chair and she was clutching Peter’s hand tightly.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she said quietly.

You glanced around and realized you were alone. “May - this...this is all my fault.” You said brokenly. “I found him first and I just sat there...I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Aunt May hugged you with a ferocity you’d never seen. “This is not your fault sweetheart, don’t beat yourself up. You did the best you could and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.”

Despite her warm embrace and comforting words you couldn’t help but watch Peter over her shoulder.

It’s all your fault.

///

The next morning, you’d managed to finally drink something and change out of your bloody clothes. You were coming out the bathroom when you saw Steve and Wanda, sitting on a couch in the waiting area.

“Hey,” your voice was hoarse from all the crying you’d done. “What are you two still doing here?”

“We wanted to be here - in case you needed us,” Steve said.

Wanda stood and outstretched her arms. “Oh, I’m sorry little one,” she said quietly. Steve wrapped his arms around both of you and your throat tightened.

“Is there an update?” Steve asked.

You frowned. “Tony says that he lost too much blood. They had to put him into a medically induced coma to help the brain swelling and now...we need to wait to see if he’ll wake up on his own. Bruce said he’d go back in to help some of the damage to his liver but he needs to give him a few days to recover from the first surgery. They did a skin graft from his leg but everything seems to be holding...we don’t know why he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Hey, if I know Tony as well as I know I do - I know he won’t rest until Peter’s out of the forest. Don’t lose faith.”

You felt Wanda’s hold on you tighten.

“It’s my fault,” you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth miserably. “I helped half of those people in the restaurant. I helped save their lives and I couldn’t save his.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve tapped your chin. “Not everyone reacts to situations in the same way. A normal civilian wouldn’t have been able to even save those people in the restaurant. You did because you were trained to do so. I was a mess after I thought Bucky had died - it’s not the same when it’s your family.”

You heard him, and knew that there had to be some truth to them, but your brain was stuck in a loop and no one could convince you otherwise.

Instead of answering, you just held tightly onto your two friends, letting them hold you up for a moment.

///

After a few days with no change with his condition - you had to go home to get a change of clothes.

Ned had promised he’d take care of Chewie, but you knew it’d do you both some good if you saw him even if only for a few minutes.

As if on cue, the second you opened the door, you found Chewie trying to climb up your leg.

“Hey boy, I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” you said, bending down to pick him up. He meowed loudly at you, disgruntled almost. You laughed, surprised at yourself.

“Dad got hurt,” you told him and he went quiet. You rubbed his head and tried to keep your tears at bay. “I don’t know if he’s going to be okay but, I gotta be with him until he’s better.”

Chewied meowed and his swishing tail brushed against your arm.

You pulled out a few treats for him and went to grab a few fresh shirts when you tripped, going head first into the wall.

Annoyed, you looked down to see a discarded shirt from a few days ago. You bent down to pick it up and slid down the wall, your mind blank. You brought it to your face and smelled a faint trace of Peter’s cologne.

Tears pooled in your eyes and you bit down on your lip.

Don’t people run out of tears at one point? Why were you a bottomless pool?

Your phone rang, the sound was jilting enough to bring you out of your head. You reached for it and didn’t look at who was calling you.

“Yeah?”

“He’s awake.”

///

“It took a little longer than expected, but his body is showing clear signs of recovery,” Bruce said to you and Aunt May.

“Why did he take so much longer to wake up?” She asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Bruce smiled kindly. “His body was just resting, we underestimated the damage done and his body needed to heal before it would allow him to wake up.”

“But he’ll recover? Fully?”

Bruce nodded. “He resisted treatment initially but it’s taking well now. He’s got a long road ahead of him - I’ve already scheduled multiple appointments with great physical therapists that I’ve worked with in the past - but bottom line, he’ll be just fine.”

You let out a small sound at that and Bruce turned to you. His eyes sympathetic and he smiled widely at you.

“He’s okay, he’s absolutely okay.”

Aunt May burst into tears and hugged Bruce tightly.

“Thank you so much, thank you-” she sobbed.

Bruce smiled and led her into Peter’s room, where you could faintly see his outline.

You wanted to give May a few minutes with him to herself but Bruce emerged and beckoned you in. “He’s been asking for you since he opened his eyes.”

Feeling overwhelmingly happy, and guilty, you took small steps into the room.

You didn’t manage to get a word in, with Aunt May speaking a mile a minute, but you were happy to sit at his bedside and just take him in. The others had given you three some privacy but after a while, they’d started to trickle in one by one.

Once everyone had made their rounds, the three of you ended up alone again. Aunt May yawned widely and you reached over to squeeze her hand.

“I’m fine,” she waved off your worry. “Tony had a nice bed set up for me to take a nap on.”

“Aunt May, why don’t you go home for a little bit?” You asked. “Get a good night’s sleep and we can trade off tomorrow morning?”

Immediately, she protested, flustered and pretending not to yawn again.

Peter, with practiced patience, assured Aunt May that he was okay and that she could go home without worrying that something would happen to him.

She had tried to entice you into coming with her but you’d waved off her offers.

You sat in the rigid chair by Peter’s bed and kept your eyes on his hands. Tony and Bruce had come in after May’s departure to administer his nightly meds.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you said, your voice audibly shaking.

“Are you okay?”

No.

Your eyes darted up to his and you laughed incredulously. “You’re the one in a hospital bed – you’re the one who almost-” Your voice gave out. You can’t say it – you can’t.

You weren’t naive. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten hurt, he’d probably seen worse, but this was the first time you’d seen it first hand. This was the first time he’d almost died in your arms because of you inability to help him.

“Hey.” Peter’s hand came up to your chin and he smiled brightly at you. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, still numb.

He’s okay.

///

You were on a roof, the same roof you always found yourself on. It was dark, cold and smoke encased your feet. You felt your pulse racing and your head was throbbing. You looked down and you were drenched in blood. You faintly hear Peter scream out your name.

“Peter!” You yelled out, looking for him. “Peter where are you?”

Smoke billowed around you as you swung wildly. A pained groan came from your left.

“Peter!” You sobbed. He stood at the edge of the roof, a gaping wound on his shoulder. “Peter!”

“Why didn’t you help me?” Peter asked, his voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, I tried...I’m sorry!”

“This is all your fault.”

You ran towards him, your heart beating wildly. You outstretched your hand and Peter gasped.

“Help me! Help me!” He yelled painfully.

“Peter!” You screamed as his body disappeared off the ledge.

“No!” You yelled, trying to reach the edge but never getting any closer. “No! Peter! I’m sorry! Please!”

You heard him scream your name. Again and again and again.

Gasping, you darted up, the covers tangled around you feet. Your chest was heaving and your throat was on fire. You looked around frantically and found Peter at the foot on the bed, his crutches leaning against the foot board. He was watching you, worried.

“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely. “Was I screaming again?”

“I’ve been trying to wake you up for a while now.” Peter nodded, his eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

You shook your head and released the sheets clutched in your fists. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Same nightmare?” Peter asked eventually.

“Yeah,” you sighed. Your face was wet with tears, your throat rasped from your screaming and your muscles ached from the tension.

“Hey,” Peter said, rubbing a comforting hand across your leg. “It’ll get better.”

“I hope so.”

///

The metallic red and blue banner was obnoxious. You had no doubt that Tony had done it purposefully.

In big block letters it said: Congratulations on your comeback.

“Pepper said it would be inappropriate to have a ‘congrats on not dying’ banner,” Tony told you and Sam.

Sam snorted and took a sip of his whiskey. “Yeah, good call.”

Tony’s name was called and he was whisked away. You could hear Peter laughing with Steve and Natasha a few feet to your left and you couldn’t help but reflexively smile.

“I think that’s the first real smile I’ve seen on you in a few months,” Sam said matter-of-fact.

You glanced up at him and let the smile fade, his dark eyes watching you steadily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed.

Your eyes trailed over to Peter, his curls combed into submission and his eyes bright. He caught your look and smiled his dopey smile at you. You gave him a tight smile in return and turned back to Sam.

“See, that – that’s what you’ve been trying to pass off.” Sam nudged your elbow with his own. “You can tell me, I’m good at keeping secrets.”

It was true. Sam was everyone’s go to person when it came to any heavy emotional turmoil. You and Peter had once agreed that it was his steady and easy air about him. It made you want to trust him.

You motioned towards the windows on the far right and he followed. Turning to lean your back against the railing, you caught Pepper and Tony with their arms around each other. They were laughing at something Rhodey had said.

“I wonder how they do it,” you said to Sam quietly. He followed your gaze and nodded.

“It’s not easy,” he snorted. “Trust me.”

You understood what it was like to love someone enough to look passed their flaws. You’d loved Peter since you were sixteen. You loved him before Spiderman. Shit, you loved him despite Spiderman.

“What do I do Sam?” You asked him, wanting someone to just tell you the right answer. Tell you how to stop having nightmares of Peter’s death. Someone to tell you how to stop reliving that night, over and over again.

He looked at you, really looked, and you closed your eyes.

“I didn’t hear you ask a question,” he said, smile evident in his voice.

You smiled faintly and his warm hand came up to your shoulder.

“Sometimes, you gotta do what’s right for you. Whatever that is,” he sighed and dropped his hand. “If that’s staying where you are, great. If it means changing up the pieces of your board game, then that’s what you have to do. Not everyone was built for this life and that’s okay. Hey, look at me.”

You opened your eyes and saw his sad smile.

“You listening? It’s okay to put yourself first - no matter what.”

Nodding, you cradled the wine glass to your chest and pushed a wide grin onto your face when Peter made his way over to you.

“Nice cane kid,” Sam said, eyeing the obnoxious gold bedazzled cane that Tony had given Peter a few weeks back - once he had graduated out of crutches.

“Thanks!” Peter smiled.

Sam shot you a smile and made his way over to Steve.

“Hey, you okay?” Peter reached out for your hand.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He grinned. “Tony wants to introduce you to someone-”

///

“Our supervisor just left, he keeps screwing us over,” you said, frustrated. You pushed your food around on your plate.

MJ hummed, chewing on her burger slowly. You frowned and picked at the label on your drink.

“He’s never cared about all the slack we have to pick up with him gone.”

“Maybe because you don’t speak up,” MJ said.

You glanced at her and shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s hard to confront people like that.”

She nodded and sipped her water. Your phone vibrated and you turned it over, silencing it. MJ just watched and said nothing.

“What?” You asked defensively.

“Are you going to tell me what’s really wrong or are we just going to keep talking about our jobs like we give a shit about it?” MJ asked nonchalantly, grabbing some of your lunch off your plate.

“I-I don-”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about. We haven’t eaten lunch together in months,” MJ said.

“Because you work in Queens! It’s like a two hour commute to get to you!” You said exclaimed.

“I know, that’s why we stopped going back and forth and catch up on the weekends. So clearly something has changed.”

You frowned. “I…” You risked a look at her and immediately looked back down at your plate. “Peter’s done with his physical therapy next Wednesday. He’s been bouncing around the apartment all week about it.”

“Okay?”

“It’s just-” You tapped the table rhythmically. “He wants to start patrolling again soon.”

“Ah,” MJ nodded and pointed, “there it is. You think it’s too soon?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “It’s way too soon! I don’t know what he’s thinking - there was a hole in his body and he wants to act like it’s nothing. I-I can’t understand how he’s not worried about it- Tony isn’t either and you know how he follows Tony’s lead.”

“Hey, hey,” MJ’s hand grabbed yours and you realized you were breathing heavily. “It’s okay, deep breaths.”

Your exhale came out stuttered and choppy but you managed to relax your shoulders a little.

“I think you need to talk to him about how you feel,” MJ said.

“I can’t, it’s ultimately up to him,” you said quietly and lowered your voice. “I haven’t had anything to do with Spider-Man for a long time.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you two are building a life together and you should both make decisions together.”

“I don’t know, sometimes it feels like I’m the only thing that doesn’t fit perfectly into this vision. It’s like I realized how much I haven’t liked it and now it’s too late to say anything. That’s not his fault.”

“Yeah but-”

A loud, sudden, clattering noise came from behind you and you threw yourself against the window.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. Someone dropped a bunch of plates, you’re okay,” MJ placed a tentative hand on your shoulder.

You unfurled yourself and glanced behind you. A handful of waiters were picking up the broken ceramic pieces. You looked around you, most people looking unbothered. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, feeling small. “The nightmares are really messing with my sleep and the whole thing is becoming a little too much.”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” she said fiercely.

You nodded, barely listening, and focused on calming your pounding heart.

Your waiter came over with the bill a few tense moments later. You both leave a few bills and head towards the subway on the corner.

“Can you...not tell Peter? I want to work through it myself before - you know? Make sure of what’s happening.”

MJ shot you a skeptical look and nodded. “Of course and if you need me, you know where to find me.”

You smiled weakly and hugged her tightly. She hooked her chin over your shoulder and sighed.

“You need to help yourself,” she said, tone serious. “And you need to tell him what’s going on. You owe each other after all this time to be honest about the big things.”

“A Manhattan bound express train is one station away.”

Stepping back from her, you felt her hand tighten on your wrist.

“If you don’t talk to Peter, at least promise me that you’re going to consider talking to someone. If the nightmares are affecting you to the point that you can’t function…” she trailed off. “I know what it’s like to have a panic attack, it’s not fun. Promise me you’ll talk to someone.”

You felt odd about therapy but found yourself nodding. “I promise.”

The sound of your train arriving had you waving and rushing down the steps.

///

“That was amazing,” you moaned, rubbing your stomach.

Peter grinned. “Of course it was, I’ve been perfecting my recipe since last month.”

“Well, if I didn’t love you before, I sure as hell love you now,” you joked.

“My dad always did say that mom loved him best when he cooked for her,” he smiled.

You reached over and intertwined your fingers together. Smiling softly, you traced circles into his palm. “Thank you.”

He smiled at you, eyes shining and nodded.

“I’ll wash up, a deal’s a deal.” You transferred Chewie onto his lap and cleared the table.

Peter stretched and stood, following you into the kitchen. “I could help-”

“Hey, the one who cooks doesn’t clean, you know the drill. Just sit over there and look pretty,” you winked.

Peter laughed and rubbed Chewie’s head. “Yes ma’am. Hey, that reminds me-”

“Wait, your phone,” you motioned with a soapy hand to Peter’s phone on the counter. Tony’s face flashed under Iron Man and you shot him a look.

Peter shrugged and pulled himself onto the counter next to you.

“Hello?”

“Parker! Did you leave yet?” You heard Tony shout.

You straightened. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

Peter’s face broke out into a wide grin. “No, not yet. I was going to tell her right when you called. Yes, I won’t forget. Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“What was that about?” You asked, forcing your voice to be casual.

“I was just about to tell you,” Peter beamed at you, eyes lighting up. “I’ve been cleared! Tony gave me a new suit and said I could start to ease back into patrolling. It’s been so long and I’m so psyched to get back out there! You know-”

Peter’s voice faded into white noise and all you could see is his body flying through the air. Your heart dropped into your stomach and you froze.

“Hey - you okay?” Peter’s voice pulled you out of your panic.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “So, you’re going tonight? Like...right now?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, just for a few hours. I’ll be back soon, I don’t want to over do it.” He jumped off the counter and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to go get ready.”

Your blood rushed through your ears and you felt a little light-headed. Shutting off the water and leaving the remaining plates in the sink, you dragged yourself towards the kitchen table. You dropped into the seat by the window and tried to get your heart to stop racing.

Stop it, you scolded yourself. You promised you’d always be supportive of Spiderman. You knew what you were getting into. You’re being negative. Nothing is going to happen, he knows what he’s doing.

You continue to try to convince yourself when Peter popped up in the hallway.

“I’ll be back soon okay? Wish me luck!” Peter smiled.

His sincerity broke your heart but you were practically choking on your panic. Nodding, you lifted a hand and waved until he darted down the hall.

“Don’t wait up!” He called out before closing the door.

Breathe, you inhaled deeply, like Sam had taught you. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Identify the trigger and find a solution.

Peter could get hurt.

Peter has patrolled multiple times before with minor injuries, you countered.

Exhaling, you gripped the table so hard your knuckles paled.

Peter could die and you wouldn’t be there to help.

The dark parts inside you laughed. You were there last time and you didn’t help.

Before you could stop them, the intrusive thoughts assaulted you and you started to spiral downward.

It was all your fault. He’s going to die….he’s going to die.

A loud ringing interrupted your spiraling and it took you a moment to realize it wasn’t in your head. You looked around for your phone and saw MJ’s face on your screen. Rejecting the call, you padded into the living room and looked through your missed messages.

MJ is the Best Ever [10:45PM]: Ned told me Peter started up again, you okay?

MJ is the Best Ever [10:51PM]: Hello???

MJ is the Best Ever [10:55PM]: If you’re not answering me that means you didn’t talk to him about it.

MJ is the Best Ever [10:57PM]: Are you alive???

MJ is the Best Ever [10:59PM]:You’re freaking me out

MJ is the Best Ever [11:40PM]:I’ll call Peter if you don’t answer me!

You typed out a quick response, letting her know that you were okay just a little shaken up.

MJ is the Best Ever [11:50PM]: You can’t continue on like this forever - talk to him!

You stared down at your phone and at your trembling hands. MJ was right, you couldn’t go on forever. You didn’t want to get used to his patrolling again just to have another accident happen. You wanted to break the cycle but didn’t know how.

MJ is the Best Ever [10:51PM]: JUST TALK TO HIM.

You huffed and stuck your tongue out at your phone.

Chewie jumped into your lap and looked up at you curiously. You rubbed a hand down his back and sighed.

“Alright Chewie, I’m going to do it. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. He’s my best friend, I know he’ll understand what I’m talking about.” Chewie meowed loudly and you nodded.

“You’re right. I can’t keep this a secret. This is how it started with my parents. They always said that their anger and resentment had built until they’d exploded. I don’t want that to happen with Peter.”

You loved Peter - you loved him more than you’d ever loved anyone and MJ was right. He deserved the truth, you both did.

Deciding that you can’t wait until tomorrow to speak to him, you burrow into the couch and turned the TV on. The intro for Law and Order: SVU filled your living room and you smiled.

Perfect.

///

“Hey, wake up sleepyhead,” Peter’s voice pierced your drowsy fog.

You opened your eyes and squinted at the brightness. You stretched out your sore neck and yawned.

“I fell asleep?” You asked, surprised. You looked up at him, still dressed in his Spiderman suit.

Peter laughed lightly. “Yeah, on the sofa. I tried to pick you up myself but you kept kicking me.”

“Sorry?” You smiled sheepishly.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your head. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Wait - I need to talk to you about something,” you patted the spot next to you. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not, what’s wrong?”

You winced, loaded question.

“Uh - I - um, well, first how did it go tonight?” You asked, stumbling.

Peter lit up - his entire face came alive and you felt the heaviness in your stomach grow.

“It was amazing,” he beamed. “Finally being back out there, it’s...it’s what makes me happy. It’s what I was meant to do, you know? And I just, can I say something first?”

You nodded, throat tightening. Peter grabbed your hands and encased them in his own.

“I want to thank you for being there for me, for helping me get back to this, to doing what I love. I finally feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

Is that what you’d done? Helped him recover from nearly dying to go out into the world to almost die again?

Your chest ached and you nodded faintly. “Of course.”

“Sorry, I took over. What did you want to say?”

You opened your mouth but snapped it shut at the sight of his wide eyes.

I can’t, I can’t do it to him.

“Nothing,” you smiled faintly. “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”

///

You’d tried to continue on like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t had your epiphany and were maturely ignoring most of your anxiety.

It worked for a few weeks, you’d managed to learn enough coping mechanisms to distract yourself when he patrolled. You were mildly successful in ignoring the fact that it was like putting a band-aid over a bullet hole.

Unfortunately, like most times, reality smacked you a few weeks later.

A few minutes into your shift on a rainy Friday, your unit was called to a bank robbery. First ones on the scene, you picked up the most critical injury and hauled him into the ambulance. He was young and his eyes had a glazed look to them. You quickly glanced down at his injury and hooked up his oxygen.

Your hands started shaking at the sight of the blood oozing out of his stomach.

“Please,” he gagged against his mask. “I’m s-sorry, I was just trying to help.”

You left Daria to attend to him and ran towards the driver’s seat.

A minute into the drive, you heard Daria swear and start chest compressions.

A few beats later, she called out time of death.

You managed to keep it together until you reached the hospital. You’d angrily pushed passed a nurse and slammed your hand against a wall. Before anyone could reach you, you stormed off towards a supply closet on the fourth floor and broke down.

That was where Daria found you, half an hour later. You were sitting in a corner, red faced and mid-panic attack.

“Oh, babe,” Daria rushed forward and pulled you into her arms.

“I’m s-sorry,” you cried, stumbling over your words. “I didn’t mean to push the nurse.”

“She knows that, I spoke to her. She knows what it’s like to lose someone,” Daria smoothed your hair back. “We can find her after so you can apologize.”

You nodded. “Please.”

“Was it the gunshot?” She asked carefully.

“Yes,” you hiccuped, tears still streaming down your face.

You’d taken one look at his injuries and flashed back to that alleyway, that stupid alleyway.

“We did the best we could,” Daria cupped your face. “You drove as fast you could and as safely as you could. You know this, sometimes there’s nothing we can do.”

You did know, you’d always known that. It was hard losing someone but, that’s why you did what you did. That was the first thing you were taught in school - you can’t save everyone.

Suddenly, in that dusty, dark supply room you realized the truth.

You couldn’t save everyone.

And that had been it, that was your breaking point. MJ was right, something had to give and it finally did. So you dried your face, took calming breaths and leaned on Daria for the rest of your shift. Then you went home, determined in your decision.

You managed to get up to the apartment and halfway packed before you’d started to doubt yourself.

“Sometimes, you gotta do what’s right for you. Whatever that is.”

You sighed and for the tenth time in the last hour, you sat down on the edge of your bed. You’d gotten to your pajama drawer and your favorite t shirt – Peter’s old Mathlete’s shirt – was clutched in your hand. You could honestly hit yourself. You were such a goddamn cliché.

But, cliche or not, you couldn’t do this again. You’d tried to snap back the same way you’d been doing for years but...it wasn’t sticking this time. You couldn’t break the cycle and you couldn’t stay in it. It was a lose-lose situation. Peter was Spiderman and there was no way around that.

Peter was your best friend and you did not want to let your most precious memories of him be tarnished with resentment or bitterness. You refused to become your parents.

So you straightened your shoulders and finally accepted it. The fact that you were leaving because of how much you loved him and you couldn’t stay to watch him crash and burn. You knew you could never ask Peter to choose between you or Spiderman.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what the answer would be and which one would hurt more.

You pulled out your phone.

“‘Ello?” MJ said.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Can I crash on your couch tonight?”

///

You sat in the living room, rigidly, waiting for Peter to come home. He’d texted you earlier about a mission he needed to go on next week and he’d be home after the briefing.

The sound of the locks made you clam up.

“Hello?” He called out.

“Hey,” you answered softly.

“Hey! Oh my God, I almost had to fight an old lady for the last almond milk in the supermarket. I think everyone’s starting a new trend or something because no one drinks regular milk anymore-”

“Peter?” You called out, trying to interrupt his tirade.

He continued over you. “-I don’t know why you like that stuff anyway. What did you want to eat for dinner? I think I could whip up something. Oh! I saw Ned at lunch and he wanted to know what you wanted to do for your birthday this year-”

“Peter, can you - can you stay still for a second?”

He emerged from the kitchen, brows furrowed at your tone. “Yeah...what’s wrong?”

Your chest tightened and you swallowed around the lump in your throat. “I- this isn’t working. I need a break.”

Peter frowned and you felt like your heart was going to jump out your chest. He nodded and looked pensively. “I didn’t think you’d ever get to that point but, we could definitely get by on my paycheck alone until you decide on what you’d like to do-”

Your stomach sank and you cleared your throat. He stopped and narrowed his eyes.

“A break from work?”

You shook your head, your eyes welling up. “No, Pete, a break from us.”

At that, he froze. His eyes darted across your face, as searching for something.

“Wait, I’m confused. Is this a joke?”

“No, it’s not.” You bit down on your bottom lip and shook your head. “These past few months have been a little too overwhelming for me. I can’t...I don’t think I can continue in our cycle.”

“Cycle? What cycle?” Peter’s voice rose.

“This cycle of you getting hurt Peter,” your tears finally fell. “I can’t go one day - one fucking day- without dreaming of your dead body.”

Peter’s face blanked. “I know you’ve been having nightmares-”

“Nightmares?” You laughed humorlessly. “We’re passed nightmares Peter. Do you understand how traumatizing that was? To see you like that? To accept the fact that I didn’t do anything to help you - that I would’ve taken part in the reason as to why you died?”

“I told you, I don’t blame you for that-”

“But I do!” You shouted, screwing your eyes shut in attempt to stop the flow of tears. “I didn’t do anything - that week you were in a coma? I was in a haze Peter. Steve, Wanda and Natasha led me around like I was an empty shell. I kept thinking, what am I going to do without him? He’s my whole life and he’s lying on a bed half-dead in front of me. How am I going to wake up tomorrow knowing that I’m going to live in a world where Peter Parker is dead?”

Peter closed his eyes. “But I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” you reached out and grabbed his hand. “Peter, I know this is sudden but you have to have known. You know me better than I know myself. You have to have known that something was wrong.”

He raised his eyes towards yours and you knew the answer.

“I knew something was...off, but, I didn’t think it was leading towards this. I thought we’d just talk about it eventually.”

“Eventually?” You huffed.

Peter crossed his arms defensively. “You didn’t exactly bring it up either! We were both ignoring it!”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated with the turn of the conversation. Chewie meowed from his carrier by the door and Peter glanced at your duffel bag. He made a hurt noise and your stomach dropped again.

“You’re leaving?” He asked, hurt radiating from him. “You’re actually leaving?”

“I have no other choice,” you said, trying to remember your practiced words. “I can’t stay here, I need a moment to breath. I need to recalibrate.”

After a beat of silence, Peter stood up angrily.

“Is it – do you not love me anymore? Is it not enough?” Peter ran a frustrated hand through his mop of curls. “Is it because I’ve been patrolling again? I promise, I’ll come home sooner. I’ll tell Tony that I need to cut back on some shifts for now.”

For now.

You closed your eyes. “Peter, I love you but, I’m not as strong as Pepper. I can’t put myself through this again, and again. Seeing you like that, it almost broke me – it did break me.”

You felt like punching something, anger bubbling and sadness overwhelming you. You sat back down, tears bubbling out of you. Not cute, graceful tears but angry and ugly sobs.

“You said being Spiderman makes you feel whole. I could never ask you to give that up for me,” your stomach churned and you wiped at your face messily. “They’ll be more girls but there’s only one Spiderman.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true,” you forced a smile on your face. “I couldn’t live with myself if I thought you felt trapped by me. What type of relationship is that?”

Peter squeezed your hand, his eyes red and face wet. “But I love you.”

You laughed, surprised. “God, Peter, I love you too.”

“Then why do you need to leave?” He asked, frustrated.

“It’s been almost eight years Peter,” you whispered. “I don’t know what it’s like to live an adult life without you – I need…we need to figure it out, because I can’t stay here with you and watch you die.”

Peter opened his mouth and you shook your head.

“The other guy will always have someone who needs him. It didn’t matter before when you left in the middle of a movie, when you missed anniversaries, when I studied alone or when I didn’t see you for days at a time because you were on a mission.

But…we’re older now Peter. I’m not sixteen with the biggest problem being getting my calculus homework done. I can’t be at home waiting for my whole life. I can’t have a baby on my hip or get to fifty and have the possibility of you being killed hanging over me. I can’t wait for you to die in an alleyway alone. I won’t survive it. ”

“But-”

“Please,” you inhaled deeply and squeezed his hands. “Don’t lie to me and don’t make any promises you can’t keep. We owe each other that. I owe you more than that and that’s why I’m leaving, why I’m taking a step back.

“I hope you can forgive me, one day. I- I love you Peter, please don’t ever doubt that. I just need a little space right now.”

With that, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out the door.

@nataliebartell @dangerousluv1

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