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wedreamedlove · 2 years

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Like Moths to Flames - Evan Character Update

Attempting something new here, which is translating some of my favorite scenes from recent Evan material because they impacted me hard. This updates my previous essay about him, Loving a Monster, but I won’t be doing much of an analysis here because the text is quite self-explanatory. However, I will point out things that stood out to me outside of the excerpts.

First, in [SSR Still In the Mirror DATE], there were interesting exchanges between Evan and his heroine which basically amounted to him showing how he explicitly wants to hear her thoughts, even if he can guess it pretty accurately. The two of them are also shown to pass the "initiative" between them (shout out to his Valentine's card, [SSR Sinful Love], that shows this well).

But one of the most important parts of the date was showing Evan's mentality in the Night side.

The door of the lounge closed quietly and Evan gently placed the girl onto the sofa. She was still and asleep, curled into a ball, as if she had forgotten the danger just now.

He used his fingers to comb her messy hair slowly, and then hoveringly traced over her face—

Her brows furrowed slightly as her sleep wasn't peaceful. Lowered eyelashes also trembled, like fragile thin wings, due to their owner's active subconscious.

But when these eyes were open, they would be filled with concern for him, as well as an unconscious dependence.

Rain fell slowly in Evan's heart, washing away the pitch-black background.

He suddenly remembered that, just earlier, she had been pursued so viciously but, after being rescued, she only wanted to ask him how his injuries were.

A human as fragile as a reed would actually worry about his safety.

He only found it laughable. He ought to find it laughable. But why didn't he have that feeling?

Why would he feel uncontrollably tense and guilty on the way to find her after completing his business with Countess West?

The girl's nose moved lightly with her breathing and her soft lips were pursed into a line. Her lips were pale but they seemed to have a most attractive color...

Was this his prey?

Should he mark her?

What would her blood taste like... Would it be fragrant?

Honestly, I could go on all day about the intricacies of Blood Clan society that we learn here, like how parricide is not unusual, treating your heirs like tools and dismissing their individuality, and how it's bad manners to go after another person's prey (that they will mark).

Anyway, you can see how Evan is torn in his feelings for the heroine. He admits he's fatally drawn to her (blood) but that he can overcome his instincts because what he has now with her is more important than that. However, there is truly a monster lurking beneath Evan.

This leads us to his godly birthday date, [SSR Enticing Feast DATE], and I will be going through the angst branch first. But please keep in mind that in both versions, Evan is deliberately trying to show her his monstrous and vile side.

After a long time, Evan's hands stopped in mid-air.

He really wanted to embrace the girl in front of him but, in the end, he didn't.

His torn lips were a little dry and, after licking them, the faint smell of blood and the bits and pieces of what occurred tonight slowly rolled up together.

Everything had been arranged to let her see his true self. That vile, contemptible, hypocritical, and brutal self.

It was best for her to hate him. The farther away she was, the safer.

So, when he saw her rejecting him with natural fear and dread on her face, he only felt happy.

Originally, it was just because he heard the footsteps of the girl following behind him that he wanted to send her safely to a room.

However, when she continuously stabbed at him with angry words, there was not a single bit of hatred in those pure eyes. Instead, they were full of pity and he was left completely at a loss.

It was clear she was the one pushed away, but why did it seem like he was the one who lost everything?

He knew that one day, when the girl saw through him, she would definitely choose to leave.

She would understand even more that, to a person sunken in the dark, light would only be torture.

DONG—DONG—Beyond the distant night, there was a muffled and long bell chime.

But tonight was not over yet, and for now he could stop thinking about everything after the sun rose. Just like a reprieve from a death sentence.

Evan closed his eyes and kissed her again.

All this terrible and delicious angst and the resignation and indulgence in the taboo. Anyway, now we will go to the other branch where the heroine finds Evan acting as the master of a vampire orgy banquet (heavily implied that he lead her here to let her see the "true" him and scare her off). Yes, you read that right. No, I am not kidding. You will understand after you read through the following section and then be just as surprised as me that this passed censorship and appeared in a mainstream otome mobile game.

Evan: My brethren.

His voice formed a strange echo in the air.

Evan: "Lu" is nothing more than an ordinary name among this immortal race.

Evan: I cannot and ought not to enjoy the pleasure of the feast before anyone else.

As I listened silently, everyone was looking at him. I couldn't see any of the expressions, I could only hear someone sob out his surname, "Lu".

Evan: Ladies and gentlemen, please go ahead.

The second his words landed, the smell of rust erupted in the hall. I almost gagged.

Evan took a step back and stood with me in the shadows. He raised a hand to cover my eyes, but I grabbed his fingers.

MC: Don't.

Evan: Your complexion is very white.

MC: I want... to see the same things you see.

Red. Everywhere was red.

I recognized Anna, as well as Linya. Anna buried her head in his neck and her fingers were covered in fresh blood, smearing a bright color on the young man's pale lips.

Fluid, thicker than wine, dripped onto the carpet and mixed together with the trampled rotten fruit, emitting a raw smell.

Screaming, sighing, moaning, every sound overflowed with wet undertones.

My teeth uncontrollably chattered.

MC: Evan, is this your first time seeing this?

Evan: No.

MC: Do you still remember what you were thinking of when you first saw this?

Tell me, I wanted to know.

Evan: It was a very long time ago, I don't remember.

Evan: But I can tell you what I am thinking about right now.

MC: Okay.

Evan: I'm reminiscing, recalling a mist-shrouded sunrise, a bell tower on a summer night, and a newborn white horse.

MC: That sounds... really nice.

Evan came close and supported me.

Evan: There is also the sound of a cello by a hearth in winter. But the strings are very old and instead they play the most stuttering musical movement.

Evan: I'm remembering coffee, acacia honey, and red bean paste. You like these, don't you?

MC: Mhm...

Evan: Also you, [MC].

Evan: You're sitting in Group A's office until late at night, buried in work. That place has the only light on.

MC: What about you? Where are you?

Evan: I'm watching from the hallway. Just watching, which is why I can have this memory.

MC: Evan, will they... will I make this a little bearable for you?

He was silent for a long, long time. So long that I thought I wouldn't hear an answer.

Evan: Yes.

My head was dizzy and heavy, but I still managed to show a small smile.

There was one thing that I had to tell him before my consciousness completely plunged into darkness.

MC: I know what that earlier sentence was now.

The one that had been covered by a bell and that he refused to repeat.

In this twisted world, you make me feel normal again.

Please know that the last lines in italic were in English in the game. The delivery of this line and how it stands out amongst all the Chinese haunts me even to this day. Also, all the memories Evan recalls are references to his dates with the heroine or the main story, where they either experience said thing together or where you learn about said memory. For example, the mist-shrouded sunrise is a SSR date, the bell tower is his top-up SR date, the newborn horse is Near in a permanent SR date, the cello is likely Professor Moran mentioned in a permanent SR date, and the foods appear in the main story.

Then there is this scene in the epilogue of the date.

Evan: You're very absentminded, what did you think of?

MC: It's almost Lunar New Year's Eve and after that is the beginning of spring. Time flies so fast.

Evan: Really? On the contrary, I feel time has slowed down.

MC: Why?

Evan: Perhaps because of you. Oftentimes before, there was only enough time to talk about survival.

Evan: It's only after meeting you that I have the opportunity to slowly start living.

Evan: Surviving is always a race against the clock, but you can look around as you go along living.

Do you still remember my musing in the previous essay about how interesting it will be to see Evan get through his nihilism? Well, he certainly took a huge step here and, gods, I am so in love. He is living now and not just surviving, but it comes at such a terrible price because now he is torn between his ambitions and emotions.

[UNLOCKING BIRTHDAY OUTFIT]

Evan: Have you tried on the formal dress I sent?

MC: I saw your message right after I tried it on. Why did you suddenly think to send me a dress?

Evan: When I saw this outfit, I knew it would suit you.

MC: This outfit fits very well and practically doesn't need any adjustments.

Evan: The last time I took you to get a custom dress, your measurements were saved.

Evan: I heard that the theme of this dress is the thorn bird, a bird that weeps and sings to the end of its life.

Evan: From a design perspective, what do you think of the thorn bird?

MC: Piercing its chest with a thorn and singing until death, it's very poignant and romantic.

Evan: "True love and all that is good needs to be exchanged at an unimaginable cost."

Evan: Beauty born from pain and sorrow is even more stunning to people.

Evan: I believe, in your eyes as a designer, this story probably has a richer meaning.

Evan is referring to "The Thorn Birds", a 1977 best-selling novel by Australian author Colleen McCullough. Specifically, this passage:

There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain.... Or so says the legend. — The Thorn Birds

In conclusion, Evan and his heroine's relationship are two moths throwing themselves into flames. She willingly walks into the lion's mouth, while he pierces himself with her despite the light being a torment for him and how he will (metaphorically) die when the sun rises. The two are passionately drawn to each other and she gives him so much to live for but, at the same time, he is truly monstrous and not just because of his race but his own thoughts and actions. If you recall my previous essay, Evan is prepared to get his revenge no matter what and there is the possibility of hatred warping him beyond recognition.

#光与夜之恋 #light and night #LN Evan #LN Lu Chen #meta of light and night

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otp-holic · 3 years

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Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

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solarwonux · 4 years

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Cherry || Vernon

vernon x f!reader: soulmate!au

w.c: 4k

warnings: angst, heartbreak, suggestive themes but very minimal

note: this is one of the works I’m most proud of, so I really hope you guys like it or love it as much as I do. Let me know your thoughts, yes this is a repost and I reposted it for good reason, hehehe.

p.s: read the sequel: sunflower hehe

masterlist || sunflower

The sun was shining down, peeking through the delicate petals of the cherry blossom trees as the two of you strolled hand in hand underneath them. “Why do we do this every year?” Vernon asked a soft smile decorating his face as a gentle breeze blew effortlessly causing the pink and white flowers to fall from their perspective branches into your hair.

“It’s tradition.” You said ruffling your hair, trying to get the un welcomed flowers to fall out. Vernon shakes his head reaching over and slowly untangles the dainty petals from your unruly hair. A soft giggle falling out of your cherry painted lips before you stood up on your toes to kiss him.

He smiles against them, moving his hand from the top of your head down to your cheek, his thumb caressing it gently. A colorful burst of emotions spiraling in the pits of your stomachs, a comforting warmth embracing the two of you. He pulls away, a small whine falling out of lips while he chuckles resting his forehead against yours. Locking his eyes with yours. He searched them admiring the way they looked against the pink and white of the Sakura trees. And he decided that this was why he always came with you to see the cherry blossom trees once they were in full bloom. The feeling he would get in his body as he watched you gaze up at them with so much adoration and care was indescribable and something, he would never trade for anything in the world.

But now as he was looking down into your glimmering eyes, he panicked because felt it. The sinking feeling in his stomach. The same one he had been ignoring for the past month as the bright colors around him started to fade, turning into pale versions of themselves. He knew what it meant, but he also knew that he loved you like the way the moon loves the stars. So, he kept ignoring it, pushing it aside, burying it underneath all the precious memories he kept of you. Because accepting the fact that one day he’d fall out of love with you was something he never wanted to face.

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly. He had somehow convinced himself that this was all in his head. And that the second he would open his eyes again the color he had grown to love would come back into his world. But of course, the universe had its way of working and right now it was working against him because when had opened his eyes, the color around him continued to fade.

“Are you okay?” You said wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s waist. Lately you noticed he had been acting differently. Listening to sad songs, spacing out and confusing colors with one another, but the two of you were going through a rough period in life. Money was starting to become tight and both of your jobs weren’t enough to pay for the overwhelming amount of bills, fights between the two of you had started to happen more frequently as well. But you just assumed that this would pass because as long as the two of you were together, you’d be able to take over the world someday.

“Mhm, I was just thinking of songs I could add to my new mixtape for you.” He winked playfully. A giggle escaping your throat. Vernon’s smile falling as the feeling of joy he would get whenever he heard your laugh was nowhere to be found.

“It’s been five years and you’re still making me mixtapes.” You smiled widely. Another cool breeze blowing, rattling the trees around you causing the petals to fall again, making you look like an ethereal angel. And if Vernon wasn’t so panicked or scared, he would’ve let himself indulge in this moment wholeheartedly. But he was terrified.

“It’s tradition.” He spoke, placing a soft kiss against your temple, grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “And I love you.”

“I love you more.” You smiled reaching up into his hair and grabbing the single pink petal that had found its way into it. You held your thumb out to him where the petal had stuck. “Make a wish.” You whispered watching as his face contorted into something you couldn’t decipher.

Every year the two of you made a wish together underneath the falling flowers and every year he had thought it was childish, but he never once complained. Now he wondered if what he was going through was punishment for being so selfish back then. He sighed lowly before placing his thumb against yours and closing his eyes as tightly as he had closed them before. The two of you mumbling underneath your breaths, unknowingly wishing for dreams that had started to become unattainable as the days passed by.

When he opened his eyes again the disgusting feeling returned but decided to push it aside again as he smiled and hugged you tightly. The air leaves your lungs along with a gentle laugh. He frowned noticing that the color he had once associated with your laugh disappeared. “Let’s go home, it’s wine night.” You pulled away from him, tapping his nose with your index finger. “You promised you’d watch The Bachelor with me.” You smirked before pecking his lips and pulling your hand from his. The feeling of emptiness increased as he watched you walk away awed by the trees around you. Leaving him behind to deal with the fact that maybe in a few seconds, minutes, hours, days or months; his home wouldn’t be with you anymore.

The heat was unbearable making the clothes stick onto your bodies. The two of you were sitting out in the balcony of your apartment because although it was hot outside, for some reason it was hotter inside. Your bare legs were resting on top of Vernon’s clothed ones, his dress shirt opened, revealing his glistening chest.

“How was work?” You whispered, wrapping your cherry red lips around the straw of the lemonade you had made in a desperate attempt to cool down.

“The air broke again, at this point I think they’re doing it on purpose just to go home early.” He chuckled looking over at you, the brightness of your lips making his heart palpitate out of time.

Ever since that day at the park, the colors had faded almost to a black and white, except for the bright red of your lips. He wondered why you still wore it, especially during the summertime where you usually opted for soft pink colors. And on days where the two of you stayed home doing nothing, but he never voiced his curiosity. Mainly because it was the only color about you that hadn’t practically faded to nothing and the color that he had started to associate with hope.

“How was your day off…did you miss me?” He smirked his hands mindlessly massaging your calves, kneading out the tension.

“Awful, I had to move the couch all by myself…my body hurts.” You pouted sitting and wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against his shoulder.

“I told you to wait for me before rearranging the living room.” He said turning his face and placing a small kiss into your hair. “But you’re impatient and stubborn, which is why I don’t feel bad about your pain.” He said wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him, wishing the touch of your skin still gave him the same effect as it did before. But as of recently he hadn’t been able to feel anything, and he hated it.

In fact, he had started to hate a lot of things ever since that day at the park. He hated coming home to face you, seeing a smile reach your eyes when he couldn’t offer you one anymore. He hated lying through his teeth, telling you he loved you when he honestly wasn’t sure anymore. He hated listening to you talk about work and how Janice—your co-worker had started cheating on her husband with Mark—the IT guy. He hated feeling your lips against his and your hands on his skin. Because it all meant that you still loved him. That your world wasn’t fading like his was. That the universe had no other soulmate for you but him. It hurt him because he was so sure that he loved you and that you were the only one for him, but as the days passed by, he was reminded more and more that you weren’t. And he hated himself and the universe for punishing you in such a cruel way.

He was angry and frustrated trying to convince himself that whatever he was going through was just a phase. But he was starting to run out of energy and that’s what scared him the most.

Vernon wanted to fight with you over stupid things again, like leaving the empty milk cartoon inside the fridge. He wanted to feel happiness whenever he woke up next to you with the sheets of your body, one of your legs caging him in and your mouth open as small snores fell out of them. He wanted to see you walk down the aisle in the prettiest white dress as he cried his eyes out like a child. He wanted to see you carry his children and complain about the weird cravings he was preparing himself for you to have. He wanted to move into a house with a big lawn and a backyard so he could run around it with his kids, while you sat back, your loud laughter erupting around them. He wanted to grow old with you, retire in a quiet town with a golden retriever.

But he knew his wish was getting farther as the days passed by and he hated it.

“Yet you love me and my impatient and stubborn ass.” You giggled planting a kiss against his cheek, the residue of your red lipstick left behind as a gentle reminder. He took a deep breath returning from whatever daydream he had been inside of. He turned towards you, his best fake smile etched on his face. “And I will never stop.” He said before connecting his lips with yours, the sparks erupting inside of you just like they had done the first time, unbeknownst to you that Vernon had stopped feeling them long ago.

The leaves had changed color. At least that’s what you had told him when you came home one day boosting about how pretty the scenery had been while you were walking home. And he wished he would have joined in on your excitement especially because fall was his favorite season. The season he had first laid eyes on you five years ago on a Monday morning. Where he rushed inside the bakery by the University campus for a quick breakfast before class. He had bumped into you, crushing the chocolate croissant you had in your hand against your chest, urgent apologies escaping his mouth as he tried to help you clean up your shirt. Stopping once he noticed he could see the color of it—a pale yellow. He raised his head, his eyes locking with yours as you stared at him speechless, holding the remainder of your croissant in your delicate hand.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out, your eyes getting wide as you realized what you had said. “Not like that, I didn’t mean it like that…I’m just—wow this is wild.” You blushed putting your hand against your cheek as you looked around taking in your surroundings.

“Shit.” He cursed hearing his phone buzz uncontrollably in his pocket signaling he was going to be late for class, he could care less. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, but he hugged you tightly, the colors hitting him like a wave, and he couldn’t be happier. You stiffened in his arms before relaxing and hugging you tightly, a comforting sigh falling out of your lips. “I-I found you.”

He shook his head trying to push back that memory, Nostalgia clouding his judgement just like it did whenever the memories of you flooded back to the surface. He tightened his hold around your waist cuddling you into his side even further. It was Sunday and the two of you had decided to stay in after a stressful week at work. You were mindlessly drawing inside of your notebook, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you concentrated. Vernon had always scolded you on that habit, claiming your lips were too beautiful to be put through that unnecessary stress. Now he didn’t have the energy to tell you anything about it.

You sighed feeling his thumb graze the skin of your hip, his lips finding your neck as he searched for anything that could make him feel. You smiled putting down your pencil and sat up, turning your head a small pout on his lips as he tried pulling you closer to him. “You’ve been so touchy lately.” You grinned placing your hands against his chest.

“Are you complaining?” He smirked moving your hair away from your neck and finding your sweet spot. A soft sigh coming from your lips.

“I’m not…” You paused moving your head away as he let out a whine. “It’s just not you.” You whispered looking down at your closed notebook, running your index finger against the spine.

“What do you mean, I love touching you.” He spoke removing his hands from your body, untangling himself from you. “Do you not want me touching you anymore?” His heart breaking slowly as words flew out of his mouth before he could process them.

“No…I love you touching me, it’s just you’ve never been this overly affectionate before.” You shrugged, opening your notebook again and grabbing your pencil as Vernon let out a frustrated sigh and stood up from the couch.

“I can’t show my love to you anymore without you getting suspicious.” He scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. You slammed your notebook shut throwing it aside before standing up to face him. Anger that you had been pushing aside for months coursing through your veins.

“Do you?” You spat out, closing your hands into fists at your sides. Vernon gives you a confused look making you roll your eyes. “Do you love me?” You spoke feeling smaller than usual as you fought back tears, Vernon’s heart stopping.

“O-Of course I do, why wouldn’t I love you anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, his words coming out of his mouth at lightning speed as he tried to process everything. He should’ve prepared himself for this moment instead of walking on eggshells around you, worrying about making the wrong move. And for the most part he had succeeded but he knew that one day you would catch on and he guessed that day was today.

“The other day when I asked you to hand me a yellow marker you stared at them for longer than usual before handing me the blue one. You usually gloat about the leaves around this time of the year and this year you seemed to care less and finally you’ve been dressing in just black and white clothes and when you don’t nothing matches. So Hansol I’m going to ask you again and I need you to answer me honestly.” You grabbed his hands holding them up to your chest as he stared at you wide eyed. “Do you still love me?” You choked out. A single tear falling from your eye and Vernon swore he heard your heart cracking along with his.

He closed his eyes, counting to five before opening them. The color of your bright red lights staring back at him. The same color he had started to hate because he understood why that had been the only part of you that hadn’t faded. He took a deep breathing wiping your fallen tears with his thumbs wishing he could still see the color of your eyes burning holes inside his.

“Yes, I do still love you.” He said pressing his lips against your forehead. Your heart breaking because although that was the answer you needed. It wasn’t the answer you wanted because it was a lie.

He knew you hadn’t believed him as he heard your sobs, but he held you closely hating himself even more now that you knew the truth.

The first snowfall of the year had fallen, while the two of you were having dinner on the rooftop of your apartment building. The first snowflake landing on top of Vernon’s nose, the first smile you had given him ever since that Sunday afternoon. You laughed at his confused face as it rang in his ear like a sweet melody that had slowly started to go out of tune, but he didn’t care. You laughed, you smiled, and it made his heart swell knowing it was directed towards him.

You had put your noodles down, your eyes glowing as you watched your surroundings turn into a pale white, the bitter cold hitting your bones, but you didn’t care because it still meant you could feel something. You turned to face Vernon as he watched you with calm eyes, hating the way his gaze made you feel. You looked down wrapping your arms around yourself welcoming the numbness that accompanied the cold.

“Let’s go to the bakery.” Vernon spoke standing up and gathering the trash on the table. You looked up opening your mouth before closing it again looking for words to say. But you had ran out of them long ago and it frustrated you. So, you nodded agreeing with him, because despite everything that was going on between the two of you. The traditions that two of you had built still mattered.

“You’re paying for the hot chocolate this time.” You said nudging your side against his as the two of you walked down the street hand in hand. His touch had started to feel foreign to you and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I always do.” He chuckled, shaking his head, bringing your hand up and resting it against his heated lips trying to warm you up. You tried everything not to pull away because days were getting harder than before knowing that one day the universe will finally give him the person he was meant to be with. But you were selfish just like Vernon was and just like every other human being on this planet was, so you pretend. You let him treat you the same way he had always treated you. You let him touch you the same way he always touched you and in return you’d do the same, opting to deal with your heartache when the day the two of you would have to exchange your goodbyes came.

“Wait outside.” He said as the two of you stopped in front of the infamous bakery you had first met five years ago.

“Deal.” You nodded taking a seat on the bench the owners of the bakery kept outside. A small kitten poking out from behind the legs making you smile widely. Vernon watched you, admiring the way you carefully picked up the kitten and placed it on your lap. Your heart was too big for your body sometimes which is why this whole situation was worse. He nodded once before walking inside.

Vernon took his place in line looking around, wishing he could remember the colors of everything he once had grown to love, trying to decide whether the glass display where all the sweets were laid out was still the same one as before. He racked his brain for a while before deciding that it wasn’t, adding it to the list of items that had changed ever since his life started falling apart.

“Next.” He heard the cashier yell. Vernon took a step forward looking up at the menu displayed behind the bar as his hands searched for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans.

“Two peppermint hot choco—shit.” He said as his eyes finally landed on the cashier in front of him. His heart stopping, his breath catching itself at the base of his throat as the feeling he had once felt with you rush through his veins.

His world that was now completely black and white, the world that had you in it. The one he had gotten accustomed to the last year slowly started changing. The colors return to their rightful places, starting with the cherry stain of her lips, fully understanding why he suddenly stopped seeing the color adorn your perfect lips days ago.

His chest tightened as her eyes widened and he knew she had seen it too. The fear that he had kept locked away in a wooden box, spilled out as his hands started to shake. He ran a hand through his hair tugging at the roots before closing his eyes shut. Scrunching them tightly hoping he’d see black and white once he opened them again.

A fool he was because the second he opened them the colors came rushing in faster than before. The color around her felt foreign to him because it wasn’t the colors he had grown to love when he was with you, and that broke him.

“S-Sorry.” He mumbled before rushing out of the bakery, bumping into passengers along the way, whispering his apologies. He pushed the door open, the annoying chime ringing his ear as his eardrum threatened to burst. His gaze landing on you and he swore he could physically feel his heart shatter into millions of pieces. Pieces he would no longer want to put together if it meant a life without you.

You paid him no mind as you beamed petting the head of the small kitten, humming the same song you would sing to him whenever he had trouble sleeping. He approached you slowly, the bitter snow crunching underneath his feet. His shaking hands down by his side as he stood in front of you. His bright shoes coming into your line of sight.

“Wow, that was fa—.” You stopped mid-sentence the second you finally raised your head to look at him. Tears falling down his face, making his cold cheeks even colder. He fell in front of you. His clothed knees scraping against the frozen payment.

“I-I don’t want this.” He sobbed, his arms tightening around your legs as he buried his face in your thighs, making the kitten meow in protest and jumping off. “I w-want to keep loving you.” He hiccupped.

You rested your hand on top of his head, letting your fingers tangle themselves into his dark locks. As you blinked back tears trying to come up with any comforting words to say as the two of you faced the moment you had been avoiding ever since that spring day at the park. The same moment that had kept you up at night as he soundlessly slept next to you. The reason why wore the atrocious red lipstick, even if it was out of character and clashed with your outfit. But you kept wearing it knowing it was the only color Vernon had been able to see, your heart breaking each time he unconsciously smiles whenever he saw it.

You knew this moment would come; you knew it would hit the two of you like a dozen bricks. The tightness in your chest getting worse as he held you, his sobs mixing with the sound of the chime from the bakery door.

“Is everything okay?” A soft voice spoke making your head turn, Vernon’s nails into your calves. You silently watched as everything around her faded at a rapid pace. Your breathing getting faster before the sob that you had been holding in finally fell out of your lips.

The last color you had seen before everything turned black and white, was the shade of her cherry red lipstick.

#seventeen fanfiction #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen vernon #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt fanfiction #svt x reader #vernon imagines #vernon fanfic #vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #vernon angst

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chrisevansluv · 3 years

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Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

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Would you consider writing a story or drabble about Geralt having to rescue Jaskier after the bard is shrunk and locked in a birdcage after a noble refuses to let him leave?

I thought I could write a short drabble about this... but predictably I got carried away. Jaskier isn’t exactly shrunk? but... I hope you like it! __________

Geralt was pacing in front of the fireplace in the tavern. He wasn’t sure why he was so restless. It wasn’t like he’d made plans to meet up with Jaskier this year, or even last year, but it was strange that they hadn’t run into each other in three years. What was worse was that Geralt hadn’t even heard about the bard in those years. Normally, there would be chatter wherever he was about the bard’s whereabouts, conquests and new songs. There had been no new songs about the White Wolf’s adventures. None of the other Kaer Morhen witchers had heard anything either…

And Geralt was concerned.

He kept telling himself that if Jaskier the master bard had died then he would have heard at least something. The fair maidens would have been in mourning for the loss of the famously unparalleled lover, not to mention the countless beautiful people of other genders that Jaskier had courted in his time.

No.

There was nothing.

Silence.

Jaskier hated silence.

Something was wrong. Geralt was angry at himself for caring so much. He’d had friends before that had come and gone. The Continent was a harsh land and humans were fragile, they died. Geralt’s chest ached at the thought of Jaskier’s cold dead body, no life left in those twinkling cornflower blue eyes, no song left to sing.

He snarled and spun around on his heels. Jaskier wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He was barely… Geralt paused to think. How old was the bard? He couldn’t be any older than thirty but he was sure they’d been travelling together for longer than that. He grunted. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jaskier couldn’t be dead.

“You there!” He pointed at the barkeeper. “Jaskier the bard, you heard of him?”

The barkeeper nodded with wide eyes. “Course I have.”

“Have you heard any news recently, rumours, cuckolded nobles?” Geralt asked in a low growl. He wasn’t intentional trying to frighten the barkeeper but the icy cold dread had gripped his heart in a vice and he had to get answers.

“Nothing, witcher.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. “What of his death?”

The barkeeper shook his head. “There’s been speculation but most lasses believe the bard has been cursed, the older folk think he got tired of fame and became a hermit.”

“Cursed?” Geralt latched onto that idea. Surely if there was a curse then a witcher or mage would have been called to deal with the problem. He let out a low sigh. “When did you last hear of him?”

The barkeeper gave a long drawn out whistle. “Sorry, witcher. Not for years.”

Geralt nodded and then turned to leave the tavern. He was going to find Jaskier.

_________

Geralt peered up at the manor house. The gates outside were shining, as if they were brand new. The gardens were in full bloom despite the cold winter chill and Geralt could hear the hum of bumble bees. As he pushed open the gates his medallion leapt from his chest and he frowned. He caught the wolf in his hands and gripped it tightly. That was not good. He whistled for Roach. She cantered up to him from the trees where he’d left her. She butted his head and he softly stroked her mane.

“Don’t know what he’s gotten himself into Roach, can’t let the idiot out of my sight.” He muttered. “I’ll kill him myself if he’s not already dead.”

She whinnied and stamped her foot, nipping at Geralt’s armour.

“Yeah. I miss him too.” He admitted quietly. It was the first time he’d said the words out loud but fuck, he hadn’t realised how much truth lay within them. “I’ll get him back.”

He pulled his silver sword from its sheathe on her saddle and gentle stroked her muzzle. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

The hum of his medallion got stronger as he neared the house. The sickly sweet scent of flowers was almost overwhelming. He covered his nose with his free hand to try block out the smell. If they were illusions they were fucking good ones.

The doors of the house flew open as he approached and he sighed. It was going to be one of those days apparently. He fucking hated mages. They thought the world owed them everything and rarely cared who got caught in the cross fire. The scent of the flowers faded away, replaced by the warm smell of roasted venison and apple tart. The strangest thing was the nightingale song that echoed through the halls. No matter where he walked it sounded like there was a nightingale on his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, swinging his sword in his hand and peering around each door with narrowed eyes.

One room was completely empty except a golden cage hanging from an elegant hook; the nightingale. Geralt held his medallion tighter and hummed. The nightingale’s song didn’t stop but it did change its tune as it saw Geralt enter the room. Geralt swore as ‘Toss a Coin’ began to fill the air. It was only then that he noticed the cornflower blue eyes on the bird.

Jaskier.

He ran across the room and grabbed the cage. Jaskier carried on singing, moving onto the ballad he’d written about a bruxa hunt. He fell off his perch as the cage jostled but still he kept singing. Geralt tore the cage door off and Jaskier flew out. As he escaped the confines of the cage the feathers changed into dirty and torn teal silk. Jaskier gasped hoarsely as he fell forwards into Geralt’s arms.

“G’ralt” He coughed.

“I’m here. You’re alright now. You’re safe.” Geralt pulled Jaskier to his chest in a tight embrace. He buried his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck and inhaled deeply. His scent was soured with fear but sure enough there was the warm smell of chamomile, of Jaskier.

Jaskier whimpered and shook his head. He pulled at Geralt’s arms and pointed to his neck.

Around Jaskier’s swanlike neck was a ribbon with an enamel nightingale in the centre; the curse. Geralt slipped his fingers under the ribbon. “Will this hurt if I take if off?”

Jaskier nodded. “I. I can’t do it. Only him.”

“Him?” Geralt growled. “Who did this to you?”

“I did,” an icy voice came from the doorway. “I wondered when I’d be seeing you, Geralt of Rivia. My poor nightingale would not stop talking about you at first. If he didn’t have such a beautiful voice I would have cut his tongue out. Luckily, hope doesn’t last for long.”

Geralt snarled and bared his teeth at the man. Jaskier shrunk back and hid behind him, fingers digging into the back of his armour.

“G’ralt…” He whined.

Geralt raised his sword. “Release the bard and I won’t kill you.”

The man laughed bitterly. “Do you really expect me to believe that? The man sings your praises for years. Everyone knows he’s in love with you. The question is, White Wolf, do you feel the same?”

Jaskier whimpered pitifully behind his back. Geralt’s heart jumped in his chest but he filed that information away for later. He needed to save Jaskier first and then they could talk.

“Lift the curse,” Geralt snarled.

The man sighed dramatically. “I can’t. I lied to your bard, witcher. Only—”

“True love’s kiss.” Geralt finished with a groan. “Why?”

He shrugged. “The bard who loves everyone but has no one in return. It entertained me, nothing more nothing less.”

Geralt took a deep breath. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

Geralt lowered the point of his sword slowly and narrowed his eyes. “He has me.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out if that’s really true, witcher?” The man’s lips pulled into a sinister grin. “Care to kiss your bard?”

Jaskier whined again. Geralt threw down his sword and spun round to face Jaskier. The bard was pale and shaking. Geralt did his best to give him a reassuring smile but it was difficult when he was so full of rage.

“Don’t have to…” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt nodded. “I know.”

Jaskier bright blue eyes were shimmering with tears. “I’ll understand. It’s ok.”

The hoarseness of Jaskier’s voice made Geralt see red. Jaskier meticulously took care of his voice, the same way Geralt took care of his swords. This man had taken that from Jaskier and he was going to pay. He took Jaskier’s face in his hands and placed a firm kiss on the top of Jaskier’s hair. “We’ll talk about it when you’re not cursed,” He murmured and then in a blink of an eye he’d turned to face the man again.

His sword was in his hands and at the man’s throat in a flash. The man stumbled backwards but Geralt moved with him, keeping the blade pressed against his neck.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” He snarled but before he could slit the man’s throat Jaskier’s hand was on his arm.

“Because of this,” Jaskier whispered and held out his other hand.

The ribbon.

Geralt’s eyes widened. “The fuck?”

Jaskier tilted his head and smiled weakly. “You, witcher, love me.”

“I…. fuck. Yeah.”

Jaskier laughed and then choked on a cough. “So it would be a shame to ruin it with murder, dear heart.”

Geralt glared at the man and sighed. “Fine.”

He pulled his sword away and Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his as they headed out of the manor house. It was far from over and they had a long journey ahead of them but it was a new a beginning.

Their new beginning.

Together. ___________

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt/jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

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ookami-tsun · 3 years

Text

Dependency

Childe x reader

Sighing to myself for the nth time, I start to feel that I am worthless as a person, why can't I solve my own problems?

I want to be like Childe who can communicate with people well and have many friends to be with...

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

Ah... Speaking of the devil, Childe have appeared right as I was thinking of whether to ask him for advice or to just try and solve it myself... But if I ask, I will not a self-reliant person, how can I grow up while depending so much on Childe?

I should try to learn how to solve things on my own instead-

"Y/N? Are you zoning out on me...?"

"Wha-?! Why are you so close?!" I shouted out in fright, since when did he come so close to me?

"Are you worrying yourself over something again? How about sharing your troubles with me so that we can solve this together?"

Hm... That would have been a good way, but I trying to become more independent

"I..." I tried to speak out but I stopped before I started, how can I always ask Childe only? I heard that showing your troubled side to your friends can make us into having a closer relationship... "I-it is nothing, really! I just... Well, I... Oh..! Childe, I remember I forget to give something to my friend, so I am going to go out!"

While giving fake excuses, I ran out of the door, hoping to seek out whoever I managed to talk to recently so I can share my troubles.

...Little did I know what Childe said after I left him...

"...She ran out... Did I fail in teaching her that she should be more open to me especially since we are in a relationship? What should I do now... My beloved is trying to spread out those wings of freedom..."

...

Walking about the street, I walked a long time before I can finally find someone I knew to talk with.

"H-Hi X-Xiuhua..." swallowing my saliva, I worked up my guts as I started the conversation "It seems that you a-are... free today..."

Xiuhua looks around and upon realizing that it was me, Xiuhua somehow turns white and refuse to look at me in the eyes "W-what do you want... I am not f-free, I have something to do, please talk to Childe if you have anything you want to talk about"

Finishing her sentence, she walks away fast before sprinting away seconds later

"She seems like she have something serious going on... What could happen with her face turning so pale?" tilting my head, I pondered for a second before I started walking off to find my next target "I hope the next person will be free..."

"...Sorry, I need to go off"

"...P-p-p-please spare me...! Leave this p-place alone...!"

I walked towards the mountain top that oversees the whole Liyue city, feeling upset.

After talking to so many people who just like Xiuhua, just trying to go off or shoo me away, I start to realize I am getting hated on, the place that I used to feel close in is no longer a place I can retreat to...

How could I not realize those people were avoiding me?

While I stare down at the ground, I start to doubt myself: am i really that detestable...? Everyone refuses to talk to me.... I just want someone other than Childe to talk to... After all, the target of the topic is him...

"...I found you..."

Hearing a whisper which I cannot figure what was said, I look around, and notice Childe a short distance away, looking at the sky.

I was walking slowly to him, feeling aggrieved, and soon I started running towards Childe for a hug.

"C-Childe..." calling him out, I noticed that my voice was very shaky and I feel needy for some warm embrace and pampering.

Soon, my tears fell along with the words I spoke, it hurts me so much and I felt breathless

"I... I just want to talk to them... What did I do wrong..." gripping his shirt, I bury myself into his embrace even deeper "Why does everyone hate me, why are they avoiding me..."

"...Y/N..."

Calling out my name, I felt that I could feel a hint of happiness and satisfaction as he slowly pat on my back, but he will never be happy when I am upset, it must be my imagination

"I am sure that they are blind for hating you, no one will treat others well in exchange for nothing, all of them are greedy... Greedy humans..."

Greed...Greedy humans...

"They will not treat people well if they can't get benefit, I too, but only you... I do not expect you to return of benefit me for anything... I simply need you around me, you are my life and the other half of my soul, I can't live without you"

Only... Only Childe will... Other people are all calculative people...

"So... No matter what you are troubled with, you can just tell me, I will always be ready to listen to them no matter what you are troubled with"

... In... In that case...

"Childe... You are the only one I can trust in this... in this world that rejects me... You cannot leave me, I can't live without you...!"

"Yes... That is why you should depend on me, we are a couple who can face anything together after all..."

...

After that mini eventful moment, Y/N fell asleep on Childe's back soon after he managed to convince a particularly drained mentally person into laying there.

Feeling the weight of his beloved on his back, Childe gave out an unsettling laugh as he can feel how much trust that person have for him

"...Yes... Depend more on me..."

It is worth the trouble to warn everyone about coming close to Y/N, they should learn to stay away from other people's treasure, why can't they take a hint?

"You can't escape... Just think of me and only me..."

Just like how Xiuhua understood how painful it is to lose someone important, and how it will feel to not be able to find where they are, especially when they are blood related and stayed in the same womb...

"Y/N is way more important than some worthless woman who looks like that..."

Slowly laughing even harder, Childe struggle to contain himself, how could he bare to wake up his beloved from her sleep when she clings cutely to him while mumbling his name...

Walking home, he starts to think of ways to keep this person safe and away from the filth outside of their house

"How should I make her depend more and more on me..."

#Genshin impact #genshin #Tartaglia genshin #Tartaglia genshin impact #tartalgia #Childe genshin #childe #Childe genshin impact #genshin alternative universe #genshin story #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin childe x reader #Childe x reader #kaeya x y/n #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x reader

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Die For You

Requested by Anon: “hi :) can I request Jennie scenario based on The Weeknd’s song ‘Die For You’? I also wanted to say I really love your works, they’re really good”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,705

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff, Near-Death Experience, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Thank you anon! My schedule is getting busy again, so writings may take a bit longer to get posted; I apologize for the delay with this one, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Let me know what you guys think!

PS ~ This is my first time writing a song request, so I kind of just went with it lol. It’s a little messy, but I think it has charm. Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jennie Kim has a magnetic pull to her -- one that is relentless and unwavering once it takes control of you. It’s hypnotic in every way; sweet torture in its truest form; and you’re always left to pick up the pieces.

The arrangement that you share with Jennie has been clear from the get-go: friends with benefits, no strings attached. Neither of you have time for anything serious, and this seemed like a win-win: always having someone to come home to when you happened to be in the same area at the same time? Hell yeah.

You hate that you want me

Hate it when you cry

You're scared to be lonely

'Specially in the night

Gradually, though, things got messy -- lines became blurred as feelings mixed into the equation. You did everything in your power to make them go away, reminding yourself time and time again of the agreement you had. But in moments like these, as you lay in bed with Jennie, her head resting on your chest as your hand runs through her hair, you can’t help how your heart swells. Pale moonlight traces patterns on the floor, wiggling its way into the room to offer a soft glow and ambiance. In here, you’re untouchable: no cameras or prying eyes; it’s just you and Jennie, free to be yourselves. Given this fact, you’ve grown to have a love-hate relationship with these four walls; they’re your haven -- your refuge -- but they serve as a brutal reminder of just how limited your relationship with Jennie is.

Nothing is certain: weeks turn into months -- especially when she’s on tour or otherwise occupied with her busy schedule -- and you’re left to your own devices, waiting on her return. Each day without her brings you closer to believing that you’re strong enough to move onto something better -- something more consistent; but then there she is, knocking on your door again, completely pushing that absurd idea from your mind. One smile from her is enough to reel you back in, and it only makes you feel more conflicted.

Jennie stirs in her sleep, nuzzling her face closer into you as she brings a hand up to rest against your collarbone. Her body twitches lightly, lips pursing and pouting against your neck, and you wonder what she’s dreaming about. She doesn’t seem to be distressed in any way, so you take the opportunity to get a good look at her. Within the next couple hours the alarm would be blaring that sound that you despise more than anything else in this world, signalling for her to get ready and head off to the airport to leave you all over again. Despite the circumstances, you're comforted by the fact that she always makes sure to set it for the very last second, barely giving herself enough time to catch her flight -- she wants to spend every moment possible with you, and she makes it a point to do just that. Tearful goodbyes in the back of your car would be too involved for your “relationship”, so you always try to seem unaffected (or, at least, as close to that as you can manage). You save your tears for when you arrive back home, where you spend the evening coming to terms with her absence. She would never tell you, of course, but her flights are known to bear witness to plenty of sadness for her as well; with each new mile added to the distance between the two of you, her heart breaks a little more.

~~~~~~~

It’s been 4 months since you last saw Jennie. The time apart had offered you a new perspective, something in the long nights without her affirming what you already knew to be true -- you weren’t capable of continuing on like this much longer. Nothing about your situation was ever simple; the instant you began catching feelings, it all became muddled. The one rule set -- the only principle you were tasked with following -- had been broken, and there was nothing you could do to repair it.

A knock at your door echoes out across the empty apartment, and you quickly put down the food that you had been preparing. With a swift adjustment of the dial, you set the burner to simmer and make your way to the door. None of your friends had mentioned that they were coming by, so you’re genuinely clueless as to who it could be.

“Jennie?” Surprise is inadequate in describing the feeling that courses through you upon meeting that familiar gaze. The metal of the knob is cool in your hand as you grip it, knuckles turning white while your emotions run wild. She had failed to let you know that she was coming back to town, neglecting even to text you recently.

“Miss me?” How are you to answer that? Part of you wants to blurt out your thoughts, effectively ripping the metaphorical band aid right off, but another part of you wants to deny her: the past few months had allowed your feelings to become somewhat dormant as you attempted to see a future beyond this arrangement, one void of her presence. It’s completely normal to feel like that, you tell yourself. It’s strange, but as in love with her as you are, you’re almost as equally indifferent about it all. How many more times could you watch her walk away, only to string you along until she came waltzing right back in?

The more important question of the matter is apparent: how would you even begin to tell her what you’re feeling? In the past, you’ve tried to make her aware of what you’re going through, only to be met by a change of topic. She always stayed reserved, opting to spend your time together talking about anything other than that.

Deciding that you were taking far too long to respond to her, she steps into the room, closing the door behind her. The time away from you had affected her more than she’s willing to admit, and she’s more than ready to embrace you. Her arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body flush up against hers, and she sighs at the feeling. “I’ve missed holding you, Y/N.” The sweet nothing does it’s job, making your heart flutter as the words register in your mind. You’re still tense, though, and she doesn’t fail to notice; before long, soft kisses are being trailed across your face -- her attempt at relaxing you. Sometimes you wonder if she knows your body better than you do: it responds to her, just like she knew it would, and you loosen up.

After what feels like minutes of just standing there, bodies intertwined, her hands make their way to your hips. She leans forward and ghosts her lips over yours, her gloss smudging a bit in the process. A battle is being fought in your mind: should you allow yourself this indulgence? Or is this the time to be strong and finally put your foot down? The choice is made up for you by the way that she slowly backs you up against the wall, along with how her mouth brushes against yours as her warm hands steady you. Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance.

Her lips move against yours in perfect time, a delicious rhythm being set in the process. It brings to mind the notion that maybe -- just maybe -- the two of you are meant to be. After all, you fit together like a puzzle, being complete in the presence of one another.

As her fingers play at the band of your shorts, hands roaming further with each needy kiss she presses to your lips, you debate with yourself. Her actions tempt you to cave in and give yourself up to her, but you decide that you can’t go down that road again. At least not until everything gets sorted. Quickly -- as to not give her anymore time to change your mind -- you step back and run a hand through your hair. Hers is messy, lips red and pupils blown wide. She reaches out for you again, but you simply hold your hand up in response.

“I can’t, Jennie.” The words come out as a reluctant declaration, your tone sounding tired.

Her brows furrow, but you continue.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

“Elaborate.” Her demand is clear, but you miss the effort that it took for her to come off that way. At your words, panic began to course through her; she can’t lose you.

“Whatever this is,” you say, motioning between the two of you. “I can’t be someone who waits around for you all the time, just keeping your bed warm.” She wants to laugh at that one; it’s almost comical how far you are from the truth. Jennie knows she’s good at hiding her feelings, but she’s shocked that she managed to make you believe something that ridiculous about yourself. You mean the world to her -- she’s just too afraid to admit it.

“Y/N--”

“No, don’t even try to change the subject; I’m sick of it. Please, just listen to me for once.”

A subtle nod from her serves as your cue to continue.

“I never meant for things to get like this, Jennie, believe me. But I can’t pretend anymore: I like you, a lot. And after having you in the ways that I’ve had you…” you pause, allowing your eyes to trail up and down her body as you clench your jaw, “I can’t bear the thought of someone taking my place when I’m not around. Do you know how hard that is to deal with?”

Happens every time

I'm scared that I'll miss you

I don't want this feelin'

I can't afford love

She seems stunned, to say the least; she blinks a few times before gathering her thoughts and speaking up. “You’re all I think about, no matter what I’m doing.” For a second, you’re hopeful: your heart beats a little faster at her confession, and you finally believe you’re getting somewhere with her. Sadly, she continues: “But I can’t afford that. I don’t have time for a commitment like that, and we have something good right now. I’ve seen plenty of relationships go bad and end in heartbreak; why should we risk it?”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Sometimes I really start to think that you like me back, but then you’re as guarded as ever, pushing me away again. I never know where I stand with you. So unless you tell me how you honestly feel, you’ll have to take me off your list of fuck buddies.”

Your language catches her off guard, seeing as how it’s unexpected and unlike you. How are you so oblivious? You’re so much more than that to her.

“Fine, Y/N! I’m in deeper than I care to admit. I’ve tried to run from it, but I can’t. You’re the one person I can’t seem to forget, and I can’t stand you because of that. And yeah..” she pauses, a bit exasperated, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I won’t deny that I’ve been with other people when I’m away.” You close your eyes at her admission, that familiar sadness beginning to seep in -- it wasn’t anything you didn’t already know, but that doesn’t make its confirmation any easier to hear.

“They’re not you, though. They don’t know me like you do… they’re not fun like you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I don’t want to. It terrifies me.”

“That’s kinda part of the deal, Jennie -- it’s a scary thing. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’m willing to try with you. What we have right now is wearing me down, and I don’t deserve it; so either listen to your heart and be with me, or you won’t be seeing me again.”

Following your ultimatum, she doesn’t dare speak. Her brows are slightly furrowed again, jaw set, and she’s looking at the ground. Out of habit, your arms cross against your chest -- being vulnerable is never something you particularly enjoy (especially with so much on the line) but you’re sick of beating around the bush with her. One of the first lessons you ever learned from Jennie is that she avoids her feelings at all costs; so, standing there, you wonder what it would take to make her finally open up. Would your absence be enough? Maybe you were foolish for thinking so.

With every second that passes, silence remaining unbroken by the words that you so desperately want to hear from her, your heart sinks more and more. Every insecurity you have is swirling in your mind, further clouding it. Her lack of a response confirms your fears, and you nod quickly, knowing what you have to do.

“Okay, I get it. I’m gonna take a walk, but you can stay here and take a shower since you just got in. When I come back, though, I want you gone.”

She doesn’t even raise her head to look at you. Inside, her heart is breaking; every fiber of her being is begging to say something -- anything -- but she stays quiet. It’s hard enough for her to keep her feelings for you in check with the arrangement you have now; if you become official, she won’t know what to do with herself. She’s falling hard, but she’s fighting it all the while -- her lifestyle doesn’t have room for love. You deserve someone who can be with you whenever you want them, not someone who’s always a world away. Calls and texts only go so far, and she knows it wouldn’t be enough for either of you. She’s spent your latest stint apart attempting to come to terms with the idea of life without you; it’s the last thing she wants, but she needs you to move on and find someone better. For you, she’s willing to hurt, so long as it means you’re happy.

After a beat, she accepts your words, confirming that she heard you by giving a simple nod. Any remaining hope you were clinging to fades away completely, and you’re left feeling empty. Now at the coat rack, you pull your jacket over your shoulders and slip your shoes on. “There’s food on the stove, by the way. Don’t let it burn.” You say over your shoulder, too sad to look at her again. Maybe that’s some sort of symbolism: the wonderful thing you had spent so long creating was fizzling out right in front of you, Jennie being the one who could fix it all. She can step up and repair things, but that doesn’t seem very likely to happen. Tears are brimming in your eyes, and her heart breaks at the sound of your sniffles.

Even though we're going through it

And it makes you feel alone

With a thud, the apartment door closes, and Jennie finally breaks down. It all hits her in an instant, and soon she’s sliding down to the floor, her tears mimicking her actions as they fall onto her cheeks. Why did this have to be so hard? Seeing the pain etched so plainly into your features was definitely the hardest part to all of this; she’s being cruel to be kind… if only you knew that.

I try to find reason to pull us apart

It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect

And I know that you're worth it

I can't walk away, oh!

As soon as Jennie had realized her feelings all that time ago, she racked her brain for any and every logical reason to end things. She would pick fights over small things, praying to every higher power that you’d get tired of the stupidity and give up on her. So many other people had in the past, so why wouldn’t you? Knowing that you’re different from all the rest -- perfect for her in every way imaginable -- only scares her more. You lit a fire in her heart the day you met, and it’s only grown stronger ever since.

~~~~~~~

20 Minutes Later

You have no real destination in mind; you’re content with just allowing your feet to take you wherever they wish to go.

Chatter from across the city makes its way to your ears, oddly offering a sense of comfort in your time of need. The night sky is full of stars, and the city bustles with life and activity. As you pass different businesses and shops, their iridescent lights shine just for you. Distant cars honk as they traverse the streets, and your mind begins to think of all of the different things those people might be doing right now. Surely some are having a great day, maybe on their way home, eager to be greeted by their loved ones. Others might be hurting just like you.

And you won't find no one that's better

'Cause I'm right for you, babe

I think I'm right for you, babe

Jennie fails to realize that all you want is her; you’re not naive -- you know how crazy her schedule is, but you’re more than willing to make sacrifices if it means she’ll be yours. No one makes you feel the way she does, and the thought of spending your life searching for something that can never compare scares you.

A slight breeze rolls in, ghosting over your skin, and you’re reminded of all the times she would pull you in close to keep you warm. Her sweet perfume would fill your nose as you snuggled into her embrace, sharing the heat that her coat offered. Getting over her would definitely be a bitch.

It's hard for me to communicate the thoughts that I hold

But tonight I'm gon' let you know

Let me tell the truth

Baby, let me tell the truth, yeah

The peace -- if you can call it that -- is broken by a shout. “Y/N, wait!” Confused, you spin around on your heel towards the voice. It’s Jennie; she’s sprinting to you, her brown locks bouncing and flowing in the wind with every step. Conflicted, yet again, your feet appear to be rooted in their spot. What does she want now? It seems that every time you get your hopes up, she’s always letting you down. With this in mind, you slowly turn back around and continue your walk. Eventually she’ll catch up to you, but you need the extra time to gather your now-jumbled thoughts.

Just know that I would die for you

Baby I would die for you, yeah

It all happened in a blur. As you began crossing the street to put more distance between Jennie and yourself, the high pitched sound of tires squealing against the pavement rang out. The car came out of nowhere, barrelling straight towards you with no signs of stopping; they had run a red light. Your eyes locked with the driver’s, both of you donning an equally terrified expression, and you had no time to react. Just as the bumper was about to come into contact with your body, you were instead forcefully shoved out of the way. Another person -- your savior -- comes tumbling with you just in the nick of time, and the driver swerves around you.

“Are you okay?!” It’s Jennie; her voice is ripe with worry, her thoughts focused solely on your wellbeing. She doesn’t even notice the cut that she received from the fall. You bring your hand up to her forehead to assess the wound.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. But you,” you say, touching her injury and eliciting a pained hiss from her in the process, “...are not.” The two of you are breathing hard as adrenaline courses through your systems; once it has died down a bit, you stand up and check each other for any more sore spots.

“Thank you, Jennie. I don’t know how to repay you for something like that.”

“I’d do it again a million times, Y/N. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. I came to tell you that I love you, and that I’m done running. Seeing you leave really put things into perspective for me.”

“Am I supposed to believe that, or will you change your mind again?” The words are harsh, your voice laced with the bitterness that you still hold onto. You can’t find it in yourself to cushion the blow much; you’re still hurt by what’s happened in the past, and rightfully so. Beyond that, though, you’re trying to be cautious; after hearing her confess like that, you know there’s no going back.

“Okay, I deserve that one. But I mean what I said. You’re the best thing in my life -- the best I’ve ever had -- and I just want you to be happy. I’ve always been afraid that I can’t give you that if I’m so far away all the time.”

“Oh, baby,” you start, cupping her cheek and running your thumb across it soothingly. She leans into your touch, and your expression softens. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. You’re everything to me, you know that? We can do this together, so long as you’re willing to try.”

“I am.” She utters before pulling you in, sealing your new agreement with a kiss. Her lips move against yours gently, taking their time as they attempt to make up for her previous behavior. It’s soft yet urgent, a million different things passing between you without words.

Suddenly, you pull back, and Jennie panics for a second.

“Did you turn the burner off?”

“Oh shit!” She exclaims, a look of pure fear gracing her features.

Just as that cold, prickly feeling of dread begins to spread throughout your body, she grins.

“Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes and huff loudly at her, delivering a rough shove to her shoulder.

“Don’t do that to me!”

She responds by pulling you in again, kissing away your frown. “I love you, too, if you didn’t catch that earlier.” You declare, feeling her lips turn up in that beautifully iconic smile of hers. She hums at that, pulling you in closer just as the chilly wind blows again. Huh, maybe the universe had been listening all along.

#jennie kim #jennie x reader #blackpink angst #blackpink fluff #blackpink #blackpink imagine #blackpink oneshots #jennie imagine #jennie kim x fem reader #die for you #let-them-read-fics #blackpink scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Movie Night

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki prefers to keep to himself but one particularly persistent Avenger may be able to change his mind. Warnings: none, just fluff A/N: This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, and, even though the concept is kinda basic, I’m really proud of it. Thank you for reading :) P.S. I apologize for being really bad at coming up with titles.

You stood at the door of the library, trying to figure out a strategy. Loki was sitting in the loveseat by the window with his back turned to you, absorbed in his book. You knew he’d stay there for the rest of the evening if you let him. It had been nearly a year since he joined the team, but, despite your best efforts, Loki ran off to the library every chance he got. Not that you had a problem with reading or anything. You loved to read too—it’s what made you two close in the first place. The problem was why he was there so often.

By now most of the team had warmed up to him. Well maybe that wasn’t quite right. Plenty of your fellow Avengers were still wary of him, but at least Clint was the only one who still sent him death glares. And even he was coming around. Still, Loki felt unwelcome in any of the common areas in the Tower. And it sure didn’t help that the rest of the world couldn’t forget his past actions. No matter how hard Loki had tried to prove himself when he first came to live there, no one would let go of what happened in New York. You could almost understand the not forgetting, but no one could find it in their heart to forgive him? Really?

You thought it was really a shame that the world still saw him as a monster, especially when he was so good looking. If only they could see what you saw right now. His beautiful raven locks fell over the back of his seat. The setting sun illuminated his pale hands as they flipped the pages in his book. And, though you couldn’t see his eyes at the moment, you could picture them in your mind. Oh, those beautiful, shining, blue-green eyes. You could imagine them moving quickly across the page, devouring whatever tale the book held.

“You’ve been staring for an awfully long time, darling” Loki said, snapping you out of your reverie.

You don’t know how he always managed that. No matter how silent you were or if he was looking in your direction or not, he always knew you were there. You guessed it was just a skill he was born with. Or perhaps, you thought, it was a result of living in a place where you felt everyone wanted you dead. “Sorry,” you said, sitting next to him. “I guess I was just lost in thought.”

He glanced up from his book for a split second to offer you the quickest of grins. “And what, my dear, were you thinking about?”

You simultaneously loved and hated his pet names for you. After you two had become friends he started peppering his sentences with ‘darlings’ and ‘dears’. The problem was, you never knew what to make of them. You supposed it was just a sign of how close you two had become. But was it naïve to think that perhaps it was something more? Probably, but that didn’t mean you could stop that thought from popping up every now and then. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach whenever he was around, but most days it proved impossible.

“Just wondering if you would be joining the team for movie night,” you replied, trying (and failing) to keep an air of nonchalance.

You see him stiffen a little at that. You and Thor took turns trying to get him involved in group activities, but he always had a bit of a harder time saying no to you. You looked at him expectantly, despite knowing that he was probably going to decline, just like every other time. Well, not every other time. Once you got him to come out for ice cream. It didn’t go bad, per se, but the atmosphere was kind of tense. That was months ago, though, and you hoped he’d be up to try again.

Finally, he gave his answer. “Perhaps another time.” You frowned a little at that, but before you could insist he continued, “I don’t really think they would want me there.”

“Of course they do,” you quickly countered. “Thor will be there and you know he loves spending time with you. And Peter adores you. And you’ve kind of been getting along with Wanda and Steve recently. And-”

“Though your rambling is adorable,” he suddenly cut you off, “I’m sure that the majority of the team wouldn’t appreciate my presence. Besides, I’m sure all of those people you just mentioned will be just fine without me there. They don’t need me to go.”

“But I need you to go. Come on, do it for me,” you said and grabbed his hand in both of yours, pressing it to your heart. You batted your eyes at him. “Please.”

He went even stiffer and returned to reading his book, but didn’t pull away from your touch. He sighed after a few uncomfortable seconds. You bit your lip as he replied, “Very well. I will consider it.”

You knew that was as close to a yes as you were going to get from him. You dropped his hand and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a quick hug, excitedly thanking him. You got up and walked toward the library exit. Just as you were stepping out of the room, you looked over your shoulder. With a wink you said, “See you there.”

“But I didn’t sa-” but the rest of his sentence was cut off as you were already gone. You hoped he hadn’t noticed you blushing. Little did you know, he was thinking the same thing.

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

Later that evening you sat on the couch filled to the brim with anticipation. You were nervously fidgeting with the zipper on your hoodie. You didn’t even notice you were bouncing your leg until Nat laid a hand on it to still you.

“You’re rather excited about this movie,” she said with a knowing smirk. “I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of The Hunger Games.”

You just brushed it off with a roll of your eyes. In reality, she knew exactly why you had so much nervous energy tonight. During your years in the Tower, she became something of a big sister to you. Of course you’d told her about your crush on Loki, and, though she hadn’t been totally on board at first, she was your biggest supporter now. She assured you that Loki would show up, but you were still nervous. After all, he had only said he’d think about it.

Just when you couldn’t take it anymore and were about to get up to look for him, Loki walked in with his brother. Loki hadn’t embraced Earth fashion quite as much as Thor, usually opting to where the most formal thing he could find. That’s when he even wore something from this world, rather than some fancy Asgardian get-up. Tonight, however, the god of thunder had somehow convinced his brother to wear sweatpants and a tee shirt. Damn, he looked good. You must have been staring because you heard Nat snicker beside you.

Thor clasped his brother’s shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile before walking over to his favorite armchair. You quickly waved Loki over before he could retreat. You saw him visibly relax when you locked eyes. It made you feel good knowing you could provide him that kind of comfort. He nodded to Nat as he passed her and sat on the other side of you.

You thanked him for coming and offered him your bowl of popcorn. He eyed it skeptically at first, but, as soon as he put a piece in his mouth, you could tell he loved it. There wasn’t much time for conversation before the movie started. You gave him a smile as Tony shushed everyone and hit play.

With only twenty minutes left in the movie, almost the whole team was asleep. Sometimes you wondered what the point of even having a movie night was if no one was able to stay up for it. Though, you had to admit, there was something comforting about being able to fall asleep in the safety of this little family you had. And maybe that was the whole point. It was kind of the reason you wanted Loki here. So that he knew he was welcomed and belonged. You snuck a glance at him, just like you’d been doing for the past two hours. Somehow he’d managed to relax a lot more. For once, it didn’t seem like he was nervous to be in the same room as the rest of the team. You were starting to feel a little sleepy yourself and decided to rest your head on his shoulder, surprising him a little.

“My sweet,” Loki whispered in the dark, just loud enough so that only you would hear, “thank you for convincing me to come. It means a lot that you care.”

“No problem, Loki. Maybe you won’t fight me so hard next time.” Before you could think better of it, you lifted your head and placed a kiss on his cheek, then turned back to the movie.

He was shocked into silence and just stared at you, once again resting on his shoulder. He too turned back to the screen, and was grateful that it was dark so you couldn’t see how much he was blushing.

Perhaps, he thought, we’ll have to have another movie night. Just the two of us...

#loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #marvel #mcu #first fic

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Growing Family

MASTERLIST

Woo I’m finally back to writing some! It feels like it’s been a lot longer than it actually has since I’ve posted a new fic. I hate to disappoint, but this is just fluffy daddy Spencer today, but I am working on a few new smuts that should be coming up next so stay tuned for those! Also shout out to @velventeenaries for coming up with some of the lines Rossi said when we were having a convo on this situation. Thus, the inspiration for this fic was born. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 2,557

“Penny G at your service, how may I help you?”

You smiled at the familiar female voice that came through the speakers of your car.

“Hey Penelope,” you said.

“Y/N! My favorite non-BAU chica! What can I do for you, today?”

You chuckled knowing good and well the chipper, eccentric and kind hearted blonde was most likely swinging in her chair, twirling a feathery pen in her hands as you spoke.

“I was just curious if the rest of the team was back yet? If so, I wanted to swing by before heading home. I just got out of my doctor’s appointment.”

“Please tell me you have ultrasound pics!” Penelope’s voice grew in excitement.

“That I do,” you grinned.

“Okay, good. Yes, they’re here and you better be here in 5 minutes or less or I will hunt you down for those pictures. PG out.”

You shook your head, exasperated by the usual antics of Penelope Garcia. She was basically the fairy godmother tech analyst of the Behavioral Analysis Unit—the department of the FBI where your husband Spencer worked.

Just recently in the last few months, you and Spencer had found out you were pregnant. Being that it was yours and his first baby, the excitement was unreal but it wasn’t just limited to the two of you. The rest of the BAU were just as excited too.

Garcia was maybe on another level of excitement though. She was already planning on things to buy for the newest BAU baby. It had been almost four years since a new little bundle of joy had arrived within the extended BAU family. Rose Mary Simmons, the fifth and final child of team member Matt Simmons and his wife Kristy, was no longer a baby. She was speeding towards four and would be starting kindergarten in only a year and a half.

“You know I love all my godsons and goddaughters,” Penelope had told you, not long after you and Spencer had announced your happy event, “But I need more baby love in my life and thank God you’re having a baby. I will happily babysit any time you want.”

“Oh, Garcia,” you snickered to yourself, thinking back on the memory as you maneuvered your car through the busy D.C. traffic.

As you’d told Garcia, you’d just gone to your latest doctor’s appointment. You were about 15 weeks along and already showing more than you expected to, which peaked your curiosity. If you were to guess, you could easily pass for 5 almost 6 months pregnant, not barely 4.

You had planned to ask the doctor at today’s appointment if she was sure it wasn’t twins. You had a strong feeling it was. Being only 15 weeks though, you’d only had one prior ultrasound around 7 weeks—not long after you’d discovered your pregnancy and even then, the ultrasound had revealed only one heartbeat. Typically, an expectant mother didn’t have another ultrasound until around 20 weeks, obviously to determine the sex, but your doctor thought it best to check. If anything, it was possible that you were just carrying further forward than usual. According to Spencer—and the many times he’d told you this—it was extremely possible it was just the way your body carried pregnancy. You knew well enough that bump sizes varied greatly.

You’d hoped Spencer could join you for today’s appointment—one that had been scheduled last month—but unfortunately, he’d been away on a case with the team and was on the way home.

You told him you could easily reschedule, but he heard nothing of it.

“You’re going today. Just to make sure little one is okay. You can show me the pictures when we’re back,” he’d said to you, earlier that morning, over the phone.

You’d reluctantly agreed.

But now, you couldn’t help but smile at the little secret you had.

•

“There she is!” Garcia squealed, running towards you practically the moment you stepped foot out of the elevator.

“Hey, Penelope,” you smiled, embracing your friend.

“How are we feeling?” she grinned, pulling away to rub your bump, “Is it twins like you thought?”

You chuckled, knowing Garcia wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Well, about that…” you took her arm, walking with her into the doors of the BAU.

You’d filled Garcia in on the way towards the briefing room where most of the team had settled for the time being, just trying to relax after the trip home. If her huge smile was any indicator, Spencer would know before you could even get the words out.

“Whoa! If it isn’t baby mama Reid,” Luke grinned, coming to give you a brotherly side hug, “Wow, you’re enormous.”

Garcia’s eyes widened, swinging an arm out to hit Luke’s chest—hard.

“Ow! Uh enormously beautiful I mean. You’re glowing,” he tried to cover.

“Nice save,” you laughed, heading over to your husband, who was anxiously awaiting to wrap his arms around you.

“You idiot,” you heard Penelope mumble to Luke, “You never tell a pregnant woman how big they are.”

You bit back a laugh and melted into Spencer’s embrace. He’d been gone for almost a week and you’d missed him, a lot.

“Hi, baby,” he grinned, picking you up as he hugged you.

You bent your legs slightly as you were lifted a few inches off the ground and hugged his neck, tightly.

“Soon you won’t be able to do this,” you laughed, then waved to the rest of the team in the room, “Hi guys.”

You patted Spencer’s shoulder lightly.

“Spence, set me down long enough so I can say hi to everyone and not be rude,” you laughed.

He obliged with a grin, giving a quick pat to your bump and you went to hug Tara, JJ and Matt.

“What’d you find out?” JJ asked, “Spence mentioned you had a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Well…” you trailed off, nervously.

“Is the baby okay?!” Spencer asked, his face morphing into panicked concern, his brows furrowed.

“Everything’s fine,” you reassured quickly, “But it’s not just a baby,” you said hesitantly.

His eyebrows rose, looking shocked.

“It’s twins?”

“Not exactly,” you laughed hesitantly, “We’re having triplets.”

Spencer looked as shocked as you felt when the technician had told you the same news. To know you weren’t growing one baby but three.

He stood for a second, blinking at you in surprise. You were about to say something when you suddenly realized how pale he was. He swayed on his feet before falling backwards.

“Spence!”

“Spencer!”

“Reid!”

Everyone shouted at once, your shriek of his name probably the loudest. They all moved into action at once as you stood horrified, afraid something was terribly wrong.

Luckily, Matt had been quick enough to catch Spencer before he hit the ground. With he and Luke on either side, they managed to sit him in one of the chairs, his head lolling back.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong?” you asked, quickly at his side, not knowing exactly what to do.

“He’s fine, he just passed out, that’s all,” Tara reassured you.

You nodded in relief, taking a seat in a chair next to him, taking his hand.

There was a commotion at the door and you looked over, seeing David Rossi running in—unit chief Emily Prentiss on his heels.

“What’s all the noise about?” Rossi asked, eyeing Spencer, “What happened?”

“Spencer fainted and Y/N’s having triplets!” Garcia exclaimed.

Rossi’s eyes flickered to Spencer once again.

“Nah, kid’s just sleeping. Making up for the next 18 years of it he’s gonna lose.”

“Dave,” Emily sighed, exasperated, coming over to bend down and hug you.

“Congrats,” she grinned, “Not only are you having triplets, but you’re the only person that’s made Spencer faint.”

You laughed a bit.

“Definitely wasn’t my intention.”

“He’ll be fine,” Rossi waved a hand.

Just as he said that, a groaning came from your right and you looked over, to see Spencer stirring.

“What did I tell you?” Rossi said, coming over to give his congratulations with a big smile.

“Bouna fortuna,” he grinned, giving you a kiss on each cheek.

“What happened?” Spencer groaned, his hand slipping from your grip to rub at his eyes.

“You just got the shock of your life, kid,” Rossi snickered.

“The last thing I remember is you saying triplets and everything went black,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, you fainted,” you tried to hold back your grin and failed.

“Are we really having triplets?” Spencer asked, eyes wide once again.

“I’m afraid we are,” you grinned.

His look of surprise quickly turned into one of excitement. He grabbed your face, kissing you hard, not caring about kissing you in front of the others. The rest of the team whistled, clapped and laughed, their joy just as huge as your own.

Rossi’s following remark made Spencer pull away from your lips and laugh. Your mouth curved upwards and joined him.

“Don’t forget! David is a great name for a boy!”

•

Everyone was gathered at your baby shower. You had been speechless when you first saw the amount of stacked diapers and wipes—along with at least 5 diaper cakes from different team members. You were sure that those would last maybe a week or two with three babies to change.

“Kid, come on! We’re a family! I’ll be grandpa Dave! We can get matching shirts that say Big Dave and Little Dave!”

You laughed, overhearing Rossi’s exclamations to Spencer, all the way from the food table.

Months had passed and your belly had grown exponentially. You could hardly believe that your body was capable of carrying three precious little babies.

Even though your belly was covered in stretch marks, your back hurt and your feet were swollen, you couldn’t be happier. You and Spencer would soon start a new chapter in your lives—a scary one, albeit exciting one too.

Only a few weeks after your reveal of the babies to Spencer and the BAU team, the two of you had discovered you were welcoming two girls and one boy. Ever since then, Rossi had been hounding you about naming the baby after him.

Unbeknownst to him, you and Spencer had already picked out names and were going to surprise Rossi after they were born. But due to his current banter with Spencer, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold the secret for any longer.

“Rossi,” you grinned, very much waddling over to the two men, “You're incorrigible.”

“I know. It’s the Italian in me,” he replied, nonchalantly.

“Well, much to Spencer’s dismay I’m sure, you’ll be happy to know you’re getting your wish,” you said.

Rossi looked stunned for a moment. You were positive this was the only time in the years you’d known him that he’d ever been stunned speechless like this.

“We decided to name our son David Gabriel Reid,” Spencer beamed, “We didn’t want to cause any confusion on names, so we’re going to call him Gabriel, but he can still be your little Dave if you want.”

It finally looked like it had sunk in when Rossi pulled both you and Spencer into a big hug, smiling bigger than you’d ever thought possible.

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” he grinned, kissing the tops of yours and Spencer’s heads, “I’m gonna teach him to play ball and how to cook spaghetti carbonara.”

“Don’t forget, you’ll have two little girls to deal with too,” Spencer laughed.

“Oh don’t you worry. They’ll learn how to cook and drop kick anyone who even looks at them the wrong way,” Rossi smirked.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you snickered.

“Speaking of,” Tara asked, popping up in the conversation, “When are you going to tell us what you’re naming your three little geniuses?”

“Yeah, I wanna know too,” Luke piped in, also walking up to the now small gathering.

JJ, Matt, Emily and Penelope followed behind him.

“Well if you didn’t catch it before, Baby A—the boy—is going to be David Gabriel,” Spencer beamed, “After the best father figure, mentor, co-worker, friend and member of this crazy BAU family. I couldn’t think of a better name to give my son.”

There were cheers all around as everyone lifted their glasses of champagne—apple juice for you—and clinked them together in celebration. You couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across your face to see how happy it made the well known, lovable, David Rossi.

“What about the girls’ names though?” Emily asked once the noise had settled down.

“Well there’s a bit of a backstory to that before we tell you the names,” Spencer began.

“We chose Gabriel’s name together because we already knew we wanted to actually make part of his name after Rossi, but we each picked a name, separately. One for each girl. Spencer decided on a name for baby B and I, baby C.”

“It’s also kinda funny what we both came up with,” Spencer interjected.

“Before the babies are born, kid!” Rossi said, “What are the names?”

“Baby B is Abrielle Jade—a name Y/N said she wanted to name a little girl on our very first date.”

Luke whistled.

“I’d be surprised that you remembered that but then again, you’re you.”

“Believe me, I’d forgotten I’d told him that, myself,” you chuckled.”

“And the other little girl is?” JJ prompted.

“Spensa Rae,” you said, looking at Spencer, a twinkle in your eye, “I wanted to name her after her daddy in some way, but it’s unique enough to be her own name as well. Rae is after my grandmother, too.”

“Those are the cutest names!” Garcia squealed, “Perfect timing time to give you my present for little Gabriel, Abrielle and Spensa then.”

She hobbled off in a partial run—not able to move too fast because of the grass in the backyard and her high heels—and grabbed three gift bags. She came back, handing them to you.

“Open it, open it!” she beamed.

You laughed at her excitement, pretty excited yourself. You handed one bag to Spencer as you reached into one bag, then the second, pulling out two matching onesies.

You looked over to see Spencer pulling out a third matching onesie from the gift bag you’d given him.

“Read the front,” Penelope beamed.

Opening one, you saw it read Rossi’s Sous Chef #2.

You laughed, opening the other which had the exact same thing printed on the front, but instead of the number 2, there was a number 3.

You peered at the one in Spencer’s hands, finding number one.

“Penelope, these are great!” you laughed, showing Rossi the outfits.

“These babies are going to be so loved,” Spencer smiled demurely, his eyes shining bright with tears.

“They will have plenty of people to love them,” Tara said with a bright smile.

“Lots of arms to hold them and cuddle them,” Luke added.

“Hands to help change diapers,” JJ piped in.

“Lots of kisses and bedtime stories,” Rossi said.

“Plenty of kids to play with them,” Matt chuckled.

“And a godmother to spoil them!” Garcia beamed.

“It’s not just your little family growing,” Emily smiled, coming to stand in between you and Spencer, wrapping an arm around each of you.

She looked around at the team that filled the backyard on this wonderful, summer evening, all gathered to celebrate the miracle of life.

“It’s our BAU family growing, too.”

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#spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid fluff #dr reid #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds gif #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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danddymaro · 4 years

Text

Temptation | Claude Faustus x Reader

This is the original [ HERE ]

It is pretty different and changed up. Heck, now that I'm re-reading both , I kind of don’t recognize much of the original. I like this one more, since its more recent and edited. I had actually written that one when I was younger and posted it up much later on that site... but I feel like I’ve done better now, like I’ve vastly improved. I guess cause I like having more details now, Idk about anyone else.

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word Count : 6335

Temptation

"Don't cry..." she cooed softly, all whilst petting the young boy, her hand gently running over his blonde, silken hair, combing it down with her small raking fingers to soothe him.

"Shh...it'll be alright young master," she assured him, her voice sweet, almost saccharine as she spoke to him, "I'm here...I’m here... And I'll always be here," she said yet again, repeating the words over and over, chanting them to him in a low, melodic tune that only she could produce.

- And it wasn’t just for that night she had made such a proclamation...

To always be there; to never leave him...

‘Never leave me...Never abandon me (f/n),’ He thought to himself, silently ordering her.

She so often assured him there was nothing in the world more important to her than he was, feeding the desperate young boy with everything he wanted to hear, not because it served to her benefit, but because he needed it.

-Because she truly loved him.

"It's so dark..." Alois whispered back to her as she sat on the large bed with him, satin sheets draped over both of them as they stayed huddled close together.

He had insisted she crawl in there with him, and of course, she wouldn’t dare dismiss his request, not when his blue eyes were nothing but melted ice, overflooding, and momentarily causing streams of sorrow down his young face.

His arms then wrapped around her with a sudden quickness, surprising her enough to put a halt to the gentle strokes she had provided on the fair-haired youth.

“It’s so dark...” He said again as he clung to her tighter, his face pressed against her left breast like the needy brat he was.

At his desperate hold, she too held him close, quickly coming down from the light start he had given her, holding him tightly against her and keeping his trembling body near her.

‘I see....it is expected,’ She mused to herself.

"The darkness is what you fear the most, yes master?" she said softly, embracing the poor child, knowing how frightened he was of not just the loud clapping sounds, but also the blackness surrounding them.

She was aware of just what the harsh sounds of chaos outside did the boy, and moreover what the lonesome void of light caused within him.

She knew him through and through, or at the very least she believed she did...

She knew what made him sorrow-filled, becoming familiar with what made him angry, as well as taking into account what unnerved him.

However, she hadn’t a clue as to what lay in his past, because he never spoke of it, but of course, she could more or less figure. She knew, of course, the world was a cruel place, and even then she was still surprised at man’s corruption where not even a child was safe.

She could put pieces together, ones that created a dreadful puzzle, one that made her weep at times.

Admittedly she had shed tears for Alois, and she wouldn't ever hide the fact, because she wasn’t ashamed to let it be known that she loved him.

‘I know what matters young Lord,’ She thought to herself, ‘ I may not know everything about you, but I don't need to...’ she added with motherly love.

‘Because that’s all that matters now...’ She reasoned, ‘ Nonetheless, I'm here now...I’m here now young master... and I won’t let you be harmed. I won’t leave you in the dark.’

“I know it is,” she voiced, “ But no worries young master,” she assured him. “You should have no worries now, not of the thunder or darkness...” she added with certainty.

“None of it...” she murmured, bringing her chin down to lay on top of his head, her eyes closing momentarily.

Meanwhile, the young boy in her arms stirred from within furthermore, '(f/n) am I wrong?’ Alois asked himself as he was embraced back, feeling her chin touch the top of his head.

‘ Do you truly care? Could you really..?' He wondered,‘ Or do you fear me instead? Do you only stay because you have no other choice as well?’ He continued on while his tears continued to fall,

‘Could it be...? Or am I wrong to doubt you?’

Alois Trancy always asked himself this, along with many more questions that ran along the same lines, because to his dismay, he always doubted.

The young boy always doubted.

No matter how certain he could be, he always challenged the notion that he could truly be loved, and that somehow, someone truly cared for him.

‘How could anyone really?’ he asked himself with spite directed at himself, at his tainted soul, and moreso his soiled body.

All of him was used...soiled...filthy.

‘Filthy...Filthy and unloved... I am...’ He thought with a hiccup. ‘ I am nothing more than that...’

Hearing what was the unmistakable sound of his blubbered cries accompanied by the little shiver coursing throughout his slim frame, (f/n) brought her gaze down to him, separating from him a bit in order to gaze at him properly.

She stared back at soft baby blue irises in the desperate attempt to comfort the lost, tainted soul, knowing he was suffering and fretful, well aware he was hurt more than words could ever fix.

A small, sweet smile overtook her pale-rose painted lips as she stared down at him, hoping to somehow raise one out of him.

Kind eyes, lovely, sweet and pure stared down at him, absolutely sunning him, making his heart still. They were filled with love, pure, unadulterated love he’d never received before, making his breath hitch in a notable fashion.

The way she gazed down at him, it told him she didn’t want his body. It reminded him that she didn’t want his soul either.

No... his (f/n) wanted nothing more than to give...accept...wholeheartedly devote herself to him, not because she was forced to by contract, and not because she had any hunger for him either.

‘(f/n) truly cares for me,’ he thought to himself, pushing away the thoughts of before, trying to shove them clear out the window,

‘(f/n) desires only my joy...She desires nothing more...’

He hated having to be reminded he mattered, hated needing the validation, but the truth was that the way he believed love to work was different. His mind had been warped, twisted and turned so much that it was nothing but a mess.

‘No...No...The way you look at me...’ He resisted, his glazed eyes gazing into hers, ' The way your eyes fall onto me... The way you hold onto me...’

She wordlessly challenged him, more specifically his doubtful thoughts, unknowingly giving him assurance with her (e/c) gems, giving validation to her words of promise.

He was aware of the existence of demons, the same unholy creatures which surrounded him. He knew those evils existed as his home had become nothing more than a nesting ground for the fiends.

He knew they were real, so he often asked himself if there was such a thing as angels.

Did they also exist?

He often wondered if the light lived with the darkness... if it had come down to roam free with the meager humans just as the demons had traveled from the depths of hell.

Did those holy angels exist? Or was their world just a playground for the fiends to fester and feed?

Had the humans been left to their monstrous mercy?

Had he been destined to just be pray?

As he brought his eyes back down, he lay them on the cloth over her chest, more specifically, the white apron trimmed with ruffles that followed a heart-shaped edge.

He looked on at her uniform piece, mindlessly letting his right hand reached up to the ruffled pieces, the tips of his fingers occupied with them,

‘ How different they are, ‘ he mused, a small sniffle meant to let out amusement, though very lukewarm.

If anything the action itself served more to vacuum up the snot running down his nostrils.

‘Like night and day,’ He went on.

The young Trancy maid was so different from his head butler that It wouldn’t surprise him in the least bit if she did turn out to be a divine spirit, one being the complete polar to the fiend Claude was,

‘Would you save me (f/n)? Could you be here to save me? Save me from the world?... from Claude even?... from myself if you had to?...’ he wondered idly. ‘Could you heal me?’ He wondered with a sliver of hope, knowing he was being foolish in his pondering, cringing as he heard large droplets smack his large window.

‘ Even if I were to be wrong...’ he started, ‘ I wouldn’t want to let you go. I wouldn’t want to give you up,’ he continued on, ‘ In fact, it’s meaningless to wonder, because I don’t want you to leave either way...

You could be yet another demon... you could also want my soul and I wouldn’t mind it...’

Nonetheless, he loved her still, loving her attention, loving her more than he could love anything else in the world.

‘-I’ll give you anything so long as you stay, I’ll promise you anything you wish,’ He compromised, ‘I’d break my soul in two halves...share it with you as well to feed your hunger...

I just ask that you stay...’

He could feel it in his chest, the aching he felt when he so thought of the possibility of her abandoning him.

Whether it was all some lie or not, he’d still wanted her with him.

‘Never...’ He told himself, ‘Never will I be alone...not without you or him...not without you both....’ He insisted, not being able to stomach the notion of lonesomeness.

It was then that an incredibly loud boom came from outside, making even the woman release a small sound of surprise.

Being caught off guard, her body had begun to melt by the strangely soothing sound of heavy falling rain, so when the roar erupted she couldn't hold back the alarm she felt. Meanwhile, the Trancy head’s eyes went enormously wide, a cry leaving him, nearly choking as he tried to speak,

"P-please don't let go!" He pleaded, burying his flushed face in her warm chest, trying to drown out the thunder.

Somewhere in there lay her heart, ‘Somewhere in here, it’s cradled by her...just like I want to be.’ he thought breathlessly, his heavy tears wetting her uniform even more, his nose going runny as well.

His hands clawed at her, small, thin fingers digging into her back as his grip tightened, his nails digging in, even though the cloth.

’Please keep me safe (f/n), Tuck me in near your heart, with what little space may be there... I'll take it.’

‘I’ve given you your own spot,’ He silently reminded her, knowing his heart was in two halves, one meant for her, and one meant for his butler, the same one who had yet to show face...

Something he hadn’t overlooked, because, in spite of all his wondering and fear, he couldn’t push the absence aside, " Damn it! Why isn't he here! Where's Claude?!" He demanded in anguish, which to her, sounded more like a soft, muffled plea.

It sounded weak...small.

‘ Where is he...’ the young boy wondered, ‘(f/n) your here... but where is Claude... where is he?’

Unknown to the two, the said man watched them, all with glowing interest, one that could not be truly measured, and that was unimaginable to them both. His golden eyes were both overtaken by fluorescent pink as he continued to eye them both in the manner a mischievous one would gaze at unattained decadences.

‘Sweet little treats left out for anyone to grab,’ He mused.

Both were sweet and savory little bites to take at his liking, and what was best;

Nothing would get in his way.

Nothing could stop him.

Claude licked his now dry lips, eyeing the young maid from a dark corner, watching as she embraced their young lord with a hold so fierce, one would have to tear her arms open to steal him from her.

She held him with an iron grip, one that cradled him near as though he truly was precious, as though he’d been nested within her womb at one point.

The butler knew she’d fight for him with the same ferocity he would, despite her mortality, and moreso, for reasons that were polar to his.

While to Claude he was nothing more than a meal, (f/n) saw something else.

She saw through maternal eyes that had given her a strength Claude hadn’t thought humans could come to obtain,

"It all excites me …" He said lowly, smirking at the vulnerable pair, his dark, delighted voice there for only himself to hear and reflect upon.

He watched with amusement as both the creatures jumped as the world outside flashed white, a roaring cry echoing with viciousness.

“Yes, it is indeed exciting... Madly rousing,” he said, feeling actual exhilaration, his body growing hot, the temperatures of it rising to a boiling point.

He looked all too much like a coiled serpent, waiting with glee, glimmering eyes filled with excitement as he waited for his moment to spring forward, viscously sinking its fangs onto innocent, little beings he’d make dinner out of.

They both were in his vision and interest, but only one left him truly spellbound because truth be told, everything about the woman made him go mad...feral even.

"Naughty me, wanting a treat before the main course," He snickered.

He wasn't the least bit concerned about the want he felt, because after all, it didn’t mean he couldn't have it all.

By having her, it didn’t mean he would have to give up the boy.

It was never in his plan to simply let go of something he’d already worked so hard on.

‘All the humiliation... the intolerable brat’s constant swings in between bitter and sweet...’ He thought with bitterness,

'...But of course that wavering...it does make him all the more appetizing,’ he reasoned. ‘ And it will make it all the more satisfying to see my young lord bloodied red,’ He went on.

The whimpering child's soul was appetizing, It had been his only focus, at least until a certain point.

It had been all he could focus on until she arrived.

‘And then, of course, there is you, my dear...’ He thought to himself as he continued to eye her.

“There is you my sweet (f/n)…Sweet...You’re all too sweet with that aromatic warmth... all of that tempting flavor you know nothing of,” He sighed in a daydreamed state, drunk over her tempting image.

Her soul begged to be devoured, shared with no one else, and swallowed whole by his gluttonous hunger, and all the while, he wasn’t even ashamed to admit it:

He wanted everything from her, from the soft (h/c) hair on her pretty head to that teasing, sweet soul she carried within her lovely vessel which was in every sense perfection.

She was perfection to him, pleasing every sense of his.

How he longed to ravish her pure, virgin body, run his nude fingers up and down her smooth legs before he’d have the chance to dig his sharp fangs within her silky neck.

He could smell it, she was untouched, untainted, and oh so tempting.

Never before had he felt such an overwhelming urge to completely devour a defenseless creature such as herself, not even his prior fixation on his master was in comparison, and it was indeed something for him to relish in with joy.

He was fortunate.

The day she stepped foot in the household, that single move marked her fate.

From that day forth, she was his, and his alone.

She was off-limits to the other roaming demons who he knew glared at him in spite...brewing in envy as he made another claim. He was aware he wasn’t the only one interested in her, but no one else would dare mark territory where he had plans to.

Surprisingly enough, watching her with the brat somehow made her more appealing, it made her much more delicious,

'How kind you are, how nobly sweet...’ he mused with mockery as he saw her being latched onto, no qualms on her part.

‘...No, better yet, How naïve and incredibly stupid, ' He thought darkly.

He knew she had a horrible inability to say no.

She couldn't escape out of the affection from the young boy, even if it meant living her life in servitude, even if it meant living her life in a nest of demons and possible death.

In his mind, such kindness and sympathy she demonstrated could only belong to a naïve and utterly stupid creature.

"- I'm sure he'll be here soon your highness,” (f/n) told Alois, “ I’m certain he would never abandon you," she added, lightly running her fingers through her master's silky blond hair to soothe the young male, continuing on with the tender action from before.

‘One’s heart would have to be black to leave you, ‘ She thought to herself. ‘Rotten and evil...Young master...”

"...And what about you?" He questioned unsurely, all with a quaking voice. His fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, fearing she'd leave him right then and there.

‘I know you’ve already told me,’ he reasoned, ‘ I know I may be annoying, ‘ he then thought, ‘ but please, please tell me again, once more... a million times after that as well...’

“Would you ever leave me?” he asked her, sniffling up at her.

‘ You’ve asked me so many times,’ she mused, a small shake to her head.

"I love my young master far too much to ever leave him," she said lovingly, making his heart warm and his body melt on to her furthermore.

She cherished the child, being pulled back to him, rendering her weak to the idea of disappearing from his lonesome life.

Moreover, something had drawn her to the home in its entirety, despite the cold chills she felt, despite the unease, her heart pulled her there,

‘I felt it my first day here...before the large door to this place were opened to me... before I knew what lay within these walls, All I wanted to do was to stay in what felt like home.’ She thought to herself.

‘As though a thread pulled me here, so thin...invisible to me, yet tied around my heart, controlling me every step of the way,’

The rain let out, sounds of fallen drops being the only thing still audible by then. and soon after, the lights flickered on, revealing a tall figure approaching them with slow, steady steps.

"Claude!" Exclaimed the young boy, fresh tears still running down his flushed cheeks, but none the less sounding completely elated, and just like that his eyes glowed, happily and with complete joy. He wiggled out of (f/n)’s hold, making the woman momentarily be forgotten, her own happiness evident as she watched her young master’s tears begin to cease.

"(f/n) was right! You didn't leave...." he said trailing off, furiously rubbing his puffy, tired eyes with enthusiasm.

Alois then looked at his either side to see the two people he loved the most; the two people he couldn't bear to live without.

(f/n) sat with him still, her head slightly cocked to the side as she watched him, the same warm eyes he had been staring at still there while Claude stood at the opposite end, his hand falling over his chest, beginning to kneel to him,

“ Your Highness, “ he addressed him.

They would never leave him... They could never do so...

‘I’ll never be alone again,’ He thought. ‘ With them, I'll never be lonely again,’

A soft smile made its way onto his young face, wanting to stay just as they were for all of eternity, wanting them to always look at him, always have him in mind.

Because he was their center, the path their eyes would take.

His angel and his demon, there for him...

' My Claude... and my (f/n)' he thought to himself, knowing he was safe.

With that thought aside he smirked discretely, his head lowering to hide it.

He then remembered there was something else he loved about having his (f/n) and his Claude,

Something that entertained him heavily...

'I suppose it's time for some fun,' he squealed inwardly at his favorite pass time.

He turned back to (f/n), wrapping his arms around her again, but this time purposely rubbing his face over her cushioned chest,

“(F/n),” he said happily, knowing he was being eyed by the other male.

'Oh Claude, u desperately want her...don't you?... Don't you wish you could hold her as I do?' He taunted the demon, not needing words to do so. With a single look shot towards the demon as he teased him, wordlessly toying with him.

‘ She’s always soft, she’s always warm... she’s always loving, but only to me,’ He thought to himself, a mocking, little smirk adorned.

As though he could read minds, Claude tightened his jaw, staring on with sharpness, knowing just what the boy was doing,

‘All the more reason,’ Claude started, ‘All the more reason I will enjoy swallowing you whole...Your highness.’ He swore seething.

His hands twitched at his sides, knowing he could do nothing to tear them apart, his only choice being to watch,

‘And you...’ He thought snidely, eyes glued to the woman’s smiling face as she remained unaware of the boy’s games, and much more ignorant to the demon’s possessive nature towards her.

‘You...’ He added, not knowing just what to think.

Within his mouth his pointed tongue swiveled, gliding over his sharpened teeth as they itched to bite. With a press to his left fang, he released a long exhale through his nostrils, wanting to sink the dangerous pearly white’s to her (s/c) skin.

"Your so warm...." Alois whispered softly, actually loving her coziness. All jokes aside, he really was enjoying himself.

"Your Highness...” The tall, slim butler started, struggling through the words, “Don't you think you should head back to sleep already?" Claude suggested, gritting his teeth, trying to sound pleasant as he offered the suggestion.

“It is awfully late,” he went on, eyes shooting right at the (h/c) haired young woman, his piercing golden eyes staring into hers with expectancy.

‘My dear... Darling (f/n),’ he addressed her silently, a sharp end to his own inner voice as he addressed the woman, warning in his fierce gaze as he gave her an opening for her supporting input,

“Claude is right,” (f/n) said in agreeance, her voice soft and small as she broke the connection she had with the man. Instead, she brought her focus down to the younger male, “ You need to sleep,” she told Alois, her hands both on the sides of his face, making him look up to her.

“ The storm is gone, you can now rest,” she assured him. “ And I promise you if it returns, we will come to you. “ she added with a placid smile, being tired herself as well as feeling shaken by the Trancy butler.

The young boy became entranced by her (e/c) eyes and slowly he nodded as she spoke, somewhat spellbound, having no room for opposition.

If it had been Claude he would have toyed more, played around more with his butler, but with (f/n) there wouldn’t be the same enjoyment.

There was no real satisfaction in disobeying her.

Yawning, he agreed with her, truly feeling drowsy, watching as she slipped out from the sheets.

Alois then looked up at her with large innocent eyes, his hand reaching out to capture her long skirt before she drew farther away,

“wait...” he muttered.

"(f/n)…” He started, his voice gentle and sweet, “ would please kiss me goodnight?" He asked shyly, the bashfulness being partially genuine.

As his blue eyes strayed, Alois caught sight of the demon, watching him begin to grow tense, notable stiffness in his tall frame as the question was asked.

‘Riled up are we?’ He wondered, ‘It’s truly amazing... I would have thought you looking at someone else in such a way would hurt me...’ He mused, ‘ But somehow it doesn't bother me...

Only entertains me,’ He went on.

“A kiss?” (f/n) asked with risen brows, a playful, little smile perking her up.

‘Still a child I suppose,’ She thought to herself, finding the boy’s request adorable, not at all suspicious or strange, especially with how rough of a past hour he’d had.

"Don't they say an angel's touch heals all wounds?" Alois responded in wonder, putting up a false play of a sinless child, pulling out his final move for his game.

"I'm no angel, but I will do so anyway," (f/n) responded and giggled lightly as she was shaking her head.

Placing a soft, chaste kiss on the boy's forehead, (f/n) tucked him in, leaving him with a good night's wish. She turned, ready to wish the butler the same, but found him gone already, something she found strange because he’d usually stay behind with the young lord, but this time he didn’t.

What she didn’t know was that he had left the room seconds before her lips touched the boy, not standing through the show before him.

All in all, the only reason he parted from them was that he couldn't stand the sight.

He couldn’t stand the idea of envying some child, especially for receiving something as a chaste kiss from the woman he craved.

‘That brat...’ He thought to himself, his hands balled tightly. '...That damned woman,' He went on, yet again left at a loss for words.

(f/n) quietly maneuvered throughout the dark halls in hopes of not disturbing the sleeping child with any loud noise. The last thing she wanted to do was knock something over, much less something that cost more than his own life did.

She knew calmed steps would be best, and yet, she found herself in a fast-paced walk back to her quarters.

The same odd feeling that someone was watching her made her spine tingle, her light hairs standing on end as she felt a cold shiver course through her.

It hadn't been the first time she'd felt so uneasy in the gloomish nights, and even during the sunny mornings as well.

Regularly she felt the same unease.

Occasionally, she wondered what evil lurked in the halls, what it was that watched her with such ferocity that she felt her body bare, vulnerable to anything that could be standing there in its hunt.

Before she could think twice, or even react, another body was pressed against hers, caging her between it and the hard wall. Her scream was muffled by a gloved hand, pressing over her trembling mouth.

She felt her heart race, blood pumping through her veins with a high dose of adrenaline, "Shh...now-now, although I'd absolutely love to have your screams echo throughout the halls...I have a different method...." A masculine voice muttered, voice falling so low it was deliciously husky and arousing. And she couldn’t believe it, the sound being familiar to her that there was an immediate click in her mind.

The grip on her lower face gradually loosened, enough for her to be able to speak and be understood. "C-Claude..." she stuttered shocked, never having been so close to the man, or even touched by him for that matter.

It was to such a state that there was not even an accidental brush-up she could recall until then.

"(f/n)....." he said in the same sensuous tone, practically purring in her ear, letting his hand fall from her lips, his fingers lingering over the thick flesh of her bottom lip.

'This is too much...it's all a dream...all a dream....this can't be real..!' She chanted in her head, closing her eyes tight, squeezing them close together, before opening them wide, expecting to see the roof of her bedroom there, but instead, seeing the same dark hall she had in sight before closing them.

"Pl-please! Get off of me!" she squeaked, squirming in his hold, her voice nothing but a harsh whisper at best.

He responded with a low chuckle, amused by her frail, little voice, knowing that it was much more than the unwillingness to wake their master causing her voice to fail.

He changed positions with ease, her two hands both held above her head by one of his strong ones as he pressed her back to the narrow hall's wall.

His golden eyes flickered pink, staring into hers, trapping her soul and making her go still, her entire body melting into a strange calmness she’d never experienced before.

Caught in a trance, she stood dumbfounded, watching him draw near.

‘He’s...He’s not even human,’ She thought to herself, watching as the vivid color glowed, a sort of magic certainly held within them that she relentlessly shook.

The uneasy feeling of before when she’d feel watched and preyed upon were present yet again as she was put under the glowing orb’s trap,

‘It’s been him... this whole time...’ She concluded, understanding now that what lurked within the darkness had been the seemingly perfect, beautiful butler.

The creature that gazed at her, followed her so fiercely was none other than the Trancy butler, and it took a single look from the glowing fluorescent gaze to realize it.

' I should... I should move...but... but...I can't...'. Mind set blank as she found it difficult to think properly.

He came close, his glowing eyes closed, dark lashes fanning over his perfect, pale skin.

She could have imagined it, with the lack of light she could be mistaken, but over his alabaster skin was a touch of rose, dusted over his face as he drew near.

His lips pressed over hers with notable yearning, the press being needy, screaming of a desperate desire.

Unresponsively, she let him continue, still stuck in surprise, (e/c) eyes still widely opened.

It was then that his pair of mystic oculars opened up to her from their closed state, eyeing her.

"Don't be uncooperative...Ms. (f/n)" He said softly, letting go of her hands, deepening the kiss by tilting her head upwards and bending down slightly to her stature, giving her the true taste of his craving mouth.

Reacting, she protested struggling to push him away, her attempt performed in a half-hearted manner as her balled fists pressed against his chest, hitting his strong chest with helplessness, weakening furthermore as she was lip-locked with him.

'No....' she thought desperately fighting the urge to give in, but she couldn't help but release a smutty, little moan as his free hand-molded her round breast, teasing her through the soft fabric.

She cried aloud as he squeezed it lightly, the male holding a teasing grin at the sound, filed more to toy with her to rouse the sounds of her purity being muddied by him.

“Claude...” She said softly, drunk on the taste of his mouth, driven mad by the crude crease of his hand.

He was dark-haired, tall, and handsome, always sporting A firm pressed suit, one that held not a single improper crease nor a snag or tear.

He was always the picture of absolute, pristine perfection, somehow unraveling before her eyes as his hair fell over his face, his breath released in heavy pants while her hands wrinkled his perfect suit.

"(f/n)...dear..." he murmured, his nose buried into the crook of her neck, inhaling the soft scent of Lillies and lavender, the same soothing scent that covered her flesh and had been soaked into it as she bathed,

"You are divine," He added with the same tender longing, lightly nibbled the soft skin, playfully nipping her to get a small taste before he bit down harshly, finally tasting the sweet blood that leaked from her wound.

Surprised, she cried out, an anguished release that sounded strained as she choked on air, alarmed as she felt sharpened fangs piece through her.

'Oh my....this taste better than expected ...' he thought to himself, planning to make more small nibbles over her (s/c) toned skin.

His moistened tongue dragged over his lower lip before darting out to drag over the bloodied patch of flesh, making her wince, the stinging pain there as in the corners of her (e/c) colored eyes, tears welled.

A decadent taste of sweetness lingered over his tongue, dancing over it teasingly as he drew his opened mouth down further, trying to find another spot to selfishly dig into.

Again, she released a strangled noise, one filled with pain as he had torn through the tissue a second time,

“It hurts,” she gasped out loud, her breath huffing out, voicing her pain while trembling in his hold,

“Claude...” she said desperately, her voice cracking, the sound making his body’s stance falter.

To say his name in such a way...

“Then I’ll take care of it,” he murmured against the skin, one of his hands trailing up to the naked flesh, his gloved thumb pressing over it with gentleness, before his other fingers trailed down it, falling to the top hem of her ruffled apron.

“Would you allow me to, miss (f/n)?” he asked teasingly, offering her a rather cocky smirk, knowing she’d certainly agree. Even while she shivered in pain she left him continue, silently begging for more.

Half dazed, her own hand trailed up to the spot, her glazed eyes looking right into his underworld glimmering gems that shinned with mesmerizing pink.

She contemplated the offer, knowing that it was best to deny him and flee, but nonetheless, she stayed planted, watching him with a want he could see.

He took a step back from her, knowing she'd already fallen into his web, and all she could do was tangle herself more into it, falling toward him and his trap. With a daring step forward, she took a hard swallow, "Claude.....please....make me yours", she practically begged, breathing ragged.

'Fight it,' Her inner voice begged, speaking with futility as it was ignored by the starry-eyed servent.

'Claude...' She mused, 'Your kisses are like wine...' She thought to herself, drunk on the sweet, addicting taste that fogged her reasoning.

'They taste as though I shouldn't have more.

They leave my mouth dry... wanting more...desirng more I know I can't handle,'

With a small lunge, she fell into his arms, where he once again took dominance over a feverish kiss.

During then he was met with a response, one that admitted to the overwhelming desire which reigned over him aswell.

She stood right at her toes, tightly gripping his shoulders as his mouth moved in sync with hers in a dance that had never been practiced between the two but was executed with perfection.

‘-As though you were made for me...’ He told himself, his hands gripping her tightly, her body melting onto his form.

He could sense the desire laced within words she spoke, as well as feel the need she felt to be claimed by him.

Oh, how he loved it...

She felt ready to collapse, her legs giving out as they became just as shaking as a platter of gelatine. Somehow, they felt like they’d never been used, giving out beneath her with inexperience as she fell onto him,

‘Like a fawn... an innocent fawn,’ He mused, and In a single swoop, he picked her up, breaking off the heated kiss with a harsh breath coming from him, a wild grin etched onto his features.

He watched her pouting mouth begin to press together, her own tongue which had been tangled with his now tasting the remains of him over her lips, leaving a glossy shine as she was left desperate for more.

He gave her a devilish smirk before he chuckled, “ Shall we continue elsewhere?” he questioned her, and with an eager nod, she pleaded.

With the same curl to his lip, he pulled her into the empty room, planning on giving her just what she wanted, planning on diving into the tempting enchantress more.

Yes, everyone would know she was his...

The Next Morning "Say did u hear miss (f/n) Last night?" Said masculine a voice while speaking in a quiet murmur. "Good grief, One would give to be deaf not too," another voice, almost identical to the first replied back to the gossip, “ Though, I'll admit... I wouldn't mind havin’ her squirmin’ beneath me instead... too bad that glory hog got to her first...." he continued on.

"I must say, I agree, she is quite a screamer, not that I'd mind either." The last of the three added, tilting his head, curious as to what her face would be set as while she made the final cry that had left him shaken to the core during the previous night.

It was then that the three men, all perfectly aligned nodded in agreeance.

"Indeed....." The other two said in sync.

The ruby eyed trio followed the (h/c) haired woman as she continued to walk forward, slipping past them without so much as a word of address. It was evident that her mind was set on something else, a look to her eyes that seemed glossy and dazed being what gave it all away.

“He’s on her mind so it seems,” Timber said sighing, pouting. “Foolish if you ask me,” he added. Thompson shook his head with disappointment, “ Honestly, I just don’t understand the appeal,” He went on.

“Yet even the young master fancies him,” the last of the triplets, Canterbury voiced out with notable displeasure.

What was so great about Claude anyway?

130 notes · View notes

phanfictioncatalogue · 3 years

Text

Long AU’s (2) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: November 8th, 2021

part one

A Map of My Heart and Mind (ao3) - Cadensaurus (orphan_account)

Summary: Dan and Phil get drunk and wake up married in Vegas, the day after Dan's 25th birthday. Dan thinks they could just get it annulled but Dan knows what marriage means to Phil, how important it is, and he wonders if they can just fake it for a year so it's not a total waste and then divorce. Of course, a year is a long time to pretend to be married and things can always change...

antisocialites watch a wilting flower (ao3) - det395

Summary: Phil's an emotionally attached and loving vet and Dan's the drained receptionist with no dreams at the animal shelter who reconnect over the poor, hurt puppy dropped off. Dan's boyfriend is their boss.

Black Blood - howellester8791

Summary: Dan is a vampire hunter, one of the best in the entire London, and he has to solve the mistery of the “Blue-eyed vampire of Haze”. But when he meets the vampire, something in Dan changes and he’ll find out that the enemy is not this pale, dorky, black haired and blue-eyed vampire named Phil.

bruising the sun (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: the bedsharing friends to lovers roommates au i was always destined to write

can't breathe when you touch my sleeve (ao3) - dayevsphil

Summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it's basically a meme. Now he's got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he'd had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

coffee at midnight (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: A recent trauma has lead Phil to embrace a ‘try new things’ approach to his life. One of those new things is learning how to swim, and Dan is the lifeguard who’s going to teach him.

Desires (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: What would you do if you were suddenly hauled from your inauspicious life and dumped into an unforeseen catastrophe with your worst enemy?

Dan Howell and Phil Lester completely and utterly hate each other. They fight every time they meet, and all of their friends are tired of it. But one day, these two hot-headed, reckless men stumble through a secret passage in a mysterious old house and wake up on a strange island uninhabited by other intelligent life forms. They only have each other and no way to escape. Will they fight to death, or will they learn to trust each other in a world where no one else exists? Can they put aside their mutual hatred for each other to survive this misfortune?

Don’t Ask Me How I’ve Been (Fake Happy) (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan Howell is an up and coming actor in a closeted relationship with a man who isn’t ready to admit his sexuality. Phil is their Uber driver for a very important awards show. Things don’t go exactly to plan, but maybe that’s a good thing? Based on the short film “Papercut” by Omad Productions.

Emergency Substitute (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: “You could always charm Phil for us,” Jack suggests. “Throw him off his game.”

“Right, yeah,” Dan says sarcastically. “Midway through the match I’ll just Summon his broom to me and he'll fall off and then Gryffindor’ll automatically win.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of charm,” Jack says, under his breath.

In which Dan is roped into playing Quidditch when all he really wants is a quiet life. And for Phil to never leave Hogwarts.

In Any World (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Returning home after his second world tour, Dan feels lost, bored, and without direction.

But things are about to get much more exciting when, while reading fanfiction in the bath, Dan slips, hits his head, and passes out. When he wakes up, it’s to a world that definitely isn’t the one he came from, especially because his best friend is in bed with him.

And if he thinks that is strange, things are about to get a whole lot weirder.

My Love is on the High Seas (ao3) - TheKidFromYesterday

Summary: After being accidentally kidnapped by pirates, Dan realizes that just maybe, his heart has been stolen as well.

Ships that pass in the night - jestbee

Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.

Shut Your Mouth and Listen Closely (ao3) - SimplyUndead

Summary: Dan is mute with an unfortunate past. Phil is a nice boy with a warm heart and love to give.

slutville, population two (ao3) - dayevsphil

Summary: Dan and Phil both have reputations for sleeping around. Their friends don't think they could hold down a relationship if they wanted to. Sounds like a challenge to them.

In Dan's defense, tequila makes anything seem like a good idea.

There You Were (Inside My Brain) (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: “So, like, you email that to me, right? The notes? Is that how this works?”

“Right,” Phil says. "Yeah, I email them to you.”

“That's great," Dan says. "So I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I'll meet you outside the...”

But Dan doesn't stick around. He turns on his heel and escapes down the corridor, feeling like he might actually die of embarrassment.

In which Dan needs someone to take notes for him in lectures and he ends up with Phil. Now if only he could get past his own awkwardness and just talk to the guy...

the water might be lovely (ao3) - isleofbants

Summary: Dan, utterly fed up with uni, runs away to the Isle of Man.

Seeking escape, he gets more than he bargained for when he rents a room out from happy-go-lucky, recent grad, Phil Lester.

This Could be the End of Everything (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: Dan’s finally starting university, the phase of his life he’s been waiting for since he was a small child. His first real chance at freedom, away from his parents. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans for him.

Through the Window (ao3) - Tastefulcucumber

Summary: Phil just moved in next door to Dan Howell, the amazing basketball star and winner of the best hair in mock elections. Phil can't help but noticing that a room in his new house has a window that leads straight into Dan's bedroom, and he happens to spend quite of bit of time in said room.

You and I against the World (ao3) - my_happy_little_bean

Summary: Dan and Phil are top MI5 agents, partners, and best friends. But when a party goes wrong and Dan is kidnapped, Phil is thrown into a chaos only he can get out of. Between mysterious clues, vengeful friends, hidden feelings, and sleeping with your bestie, he believes his social life may be harder than his actual job

Your Crowning Glory (ao3) - pasteldanhowells, rainbowchristy

Summary: Dan is 18 years old when the news is suddenly sprung upon him that he is next line to be the next king of Genovia, but things don’t go as smoothly as he thought, between having a suddenly busy schedule, a new lifestyle, an arranged marriage that Dan has no control over, and worst of all, Philip Lester trying to steal his crown.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #superlong #au #au masterlist

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wtnrscap · 4 years

Text

Never Enough

Pairings- Steve Rogers x Reader, slight Bucky Barnes x Reader towards the end, platonic Tony Stark x Reader, platonic Natasha Romanoff x Reader.

Summary- Steve Rogers has been forced to adjust to 21st-century life. Y/N has been by his side every step of the way. But in recent weeks, it feels as though she’s living in the shadow of a certain British Agent. She realises she’s fighting a losing battle. A choice will have to be made. But it isn’t up to her. It has, and always will be, the Captain’s choice.

Warnings- Winter Soldier, Civil War, Infinity War, Endgame references. Mentions of previous sexy times, brief smut and fluff. Swearing and angst.

A/N- Italics are the past. Bold is lyrics. Inspired by ‘Never Enough’ by Loren Allred from The Greatest Showman. I’ve always wondered how a lover of Steve would deal with him still being in love with Peggy, how that would affect their relationship and what would happen to them in Endgame. I wanna explore that, so feeling like this is gonna be quite long. I won’t even hint at the ending.

I am gonna say that while writing this, I am crying. Like, ugly crying. Steve and Bucky’s goodbye is so freaking emotional. Okay, I’m okay. Enjoy!

Word Count- 3.2K

Masterlist

The sunlight filtered through the silent room, highlighting her tears. Today was the day. Today was the day that Steve Rogers had to make the biggest choice of his life.

“Steve!”

The scream echoed around the battleground and the blonde turned his head, unclipping his helmet, his heart pounding painfully.

A woman stood a few metres away, her face dirted, her Y/E/C eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

For a few moments, the pair stared at each other. Steve’s helmet clattered to the ground and she was running, her hair flying out behind her before she jumped, her legs wrapping around his waist, his hands in her hair and their lips joined in a passionate embrace. When she finally pulled back, she giggled, allowing herself to get lost in his blue eyes. Steve nuzzled into her neck, panting slightly, “You’re okay... You’re back... We’re okay... We’re going to be okay...”

Y/N wiped the tears and took a deep, shaky breath. Since their reunion, Steve had told her absolutely everything.

The aftermath of the snap, Thanos destroying the stones, Thor killing Thanos, 5 years, Scott’s return, time travel, time heist, the new snap and, finally, the moments leading up to the final battle.

She’d figured it out in seconds. He didn’t need to say it.

Y/N sighed, standing and walking over to the window where she could see Steve talking to Bruce as they set up the time machine. In the morning light, Steve looked beautiful, his blond hair smoothed over and a mug between his lips. Y/N wondered if he’d always been this beautiful...

“Captain Rogers? Are you here?” Y/N dropped her keys into the bowl by Steve’s front door and walked into the living room to a strange sight. Pillows and duvets were bunched in a mess on the floor and the mound was moving slightly. Y/N moved forwards slowly, “Captain Rogers...?”

“How many more times? Call me Steve!” Steve’s head popped up through the blankets, his blonde hair messed up and blue eyes wide with mock anger. She almost had to coo at cute he looked.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Steve stood up and brushed off his trousers, “I found a list that had 100 things you have to do before you get too old and I’m working my way through it. Pillow fort was one of them.”

“I hate to break it to you Captain, but I think you’re a bit too old...” Y/N giggled. Steve pouted, “What will it take for you to call me Steve? Now help me! I feel like you’re better at this than me!”

“As your tutor, trying to get you to experience things you’ve missed out on, I will help you. Not because I’m a big kid,” she shrugged out of coat and picked up some pillows. Steve frowns, “It’s not that I’ve never made a pillow fort... It’s just I can’t remember how to. And need new memories, I’ve decided, fresh, happy memories.”

“Well, Steve, I’ll be perfectly happy to help you make new memories.”

Steve blushed slightly as he realised she hadn’t called him Captain and picked up a pillow, “Pillow fight!”

Y/N felt a hand rest on her shoulder and jumped when she saw Bucky standing behind her, “Are you okay?”

She nodded her head, “Yeah, I think so... Do you know?”

“Do I know what?”

“What Steve’s planning. As his best friend, have you figured it out?”

Bucky brushed a strand of hair out of his face and refused to look at her in the eyes, “I... I have an inkling of what he’s about to do...”

Y/N sighed and turned away from the window, another tear trickling down her face, “I was never enough...”

“What?”

“You know, it was you who brought us together. I’d been helping Steve to fit into the 21st century and I liked him, but on Nick Fury’s orders, I couldn’t... be with him. That day, back in 2014, when you saved his life... I realised I couldn’t lose him without him knowing how I felt...”

Bucky smiled weakly, “Glad to be of assistance, doll.”

“Is he okay?” Y/N pushed past Sam, forcing her way into Steve’s hospital room to see his smirking face. Without thinking, she dived onto him, making him gasp in pain, “Careful, careful! Y/N it’s good to see you too!”

A punch to his arm made him gasp again, “What was that for?”

“You’re an idiot Steve Rogers. When I saw you fall... My heart was in my mouth, I was so scared!”

“I’m sorry for scaring you... But I’m okay... I promise...”

“How did you survive? You should have drowned!”

“I don’t know... Steve suddenly looked thoughtful and Y/N grabbed his wrist tightly forcing him to look her eyes, “What?”

“Fuck Nick Fury and his stupid rules!” Y/N pressed her lips to Steve’s and his eyes widened before he kissed her back. When he pulled back, he was blushing, “What was that?”

“You almost died Steve! I can’t lose you... I just can’t... I love you...”

Steve flushes, “I love you too... I can’t believe that I’m asking you after everything we’ve... Be mine!”

“Yes, Steve! Thousand times yes!”

The air by lake seems clearer, and Y/N takes a deep breath, savouring her last sane moments. She knows she should spend them with him, but right now she can’t even look at him without a dull pain shooting through her heart. The last 24 hours have helped her to see every beautiful second with Steve, but at the same time, she has seen every flaw and every fight.

Steve gasped, rolling of Y/N and wiping a sheen of sweat of his forehead, “That was... amazing!”

Y/N nodded her head and pulled the duvet up to her chin, “It was certainly something else.”

Steve turned his head, his brows furrowing, “It wasn’t good for you? I love you, I tried to show you how much I-”

“Best sex I’ve ever had, Stevie...” she interrupted, standing up. Steve grabs her wrist, “Where are you going?”

“I’ve worked up an appetite after that.”

(20 minutes later)

Natasha sipped at her coffee, “Clearly Steve can please you. Has he got the golden dick?”

Y/N laughed bitterly, “Gave me an orgasm and that’s all I can say about it.”

“That bad?”

Unshed tears fill Y/N’s eyes and Natasha frowned, wrapping her arms around her, “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I love him, Tasha, so much, so goddamn much but I’m not enough! These hands could hold the world and it’ll never be enough!”

“What do you mean?”

“As he finished inside me, he called me Peggy! Every time we’re alone, he talks about how amazing Peggy is, how much he loved her, how much he misses her. I can’t compete!” she wept and Natasha’s gripped tightened on Y/N’s shoulder. Standing quickly, Natasha left the room, her eyes narrowed in a death stare.

Y/N almost had to laugh at how wrong things went after that. She had supported him at Peggy’s funeral, and then fought with him in Germany. Things came to a head in the Quinjet, on the way to Siberia.

“I KNOW YOU’RE STRUGGLING STEVE, I KNOW IT’S HARD FOR YOU BUT LOOK AT ME! I’M IN FRONT OF YOU! I’M RIGHT HERE! PEGGY’S DEAD! SHE’S GONE!” Y/N screamed, her emotions getting the better of her. The Quinjet was on autopilot and Bucky was trying his best to pretend he couldn’t hear the argument.

“SHE WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, Y/N! YOU NEED TO RESPECT THAT!” Steve yelled back. Y/N rolled her eyes, “I HAVE RESPECTED THAT SINCE YOU WERE PULLED OUT OF THE ICE! BUT I AM YOUR GIRLFRIEND! OR AM I JUST A TOY, ON THE SIDE TILL YOU FIND A WAY BACK TO HER?”

“I-”

“I don’t wanna break up with you Stevie...” Y/N lowered her voice, “And I don’t think you wanna break up with me. This stuff with Bucky is important, and with you fighting Tony, we’re going to need each other more than ever. What’s happening now, with the Avengers, is the end. This is the end of the Avengers.”

Steve paled and pulled Y/N close, kissing her temple, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too...”

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. He was and always has been blinded. I wanted to slap him sometimes...”

Y/N turns her head and sees Tony and Natasha, staring back her. They look younger and happier. Natasha reaches out her hand and Y/N tries to take it, but her hand goes through Natasha’s. Tears spill down her cheeks, “I need you, Tasha. I need you, Tony... I can’t do this on my own.”

“You don’t really have a choice in the matter. We’re gone, dead, and soon... Capiscle will be too,” Tony responds with a sad smile, “But we’re here to tell you that we may be gone... but we’re in your heart. You are not alone.”

“I am so alone...”

“No. You were not alone on Titan, I was with you, and I was with you when you came back...” Tony took a step forward. Natasha scrunched up her eyes, “I’ve been with you since 2012. I have given you advice, gossiped with you and now I’m here, reminding you that I’m not gone...”

“Thank you, both of you... Tasha, for being the best friend any girl could ask for, and Tony for always looking out for me. I was so scared on Titan. Natasha, I wished we could have said goodbye to each other...”

“This is goodbye.”

“Tony... “

“I heard you... as I was dying... I heard your words. I died unafraid.”

Tony and Natasha take a step back, “Don’t forget us, Y/N. We love you...”

“I love you too. I love you so much...”

“Tony...? Tony, what’s happening?” Y/N stumbled into Tony’s arm as the man weeps for Peter. He caught her and she fell to the ground, her mouth whispering, “Tell Steve... Tell him I’m sorry... He’ll understand...”

“Where is he? Why weren’t you with him?” asked Tony desperately. Tears filled Y/N’s beautiful eyes, “We argued... We were on a break... I can’t tell you where he is because I don’t know. The last time I saw him... I tried to get away, so far away and ended up in New York... I’m scared Tony...”

“I know... I’m right here... don’t let go of my hand...”

“Why did you forgive me? For what happened in Germany?”

“Thanos is a too bigger threat for silly fights.”

“They were your parents...” Y/N’s eyes began to dull, her skin flaking away. Tony gulped, “They’re were my past, you are my future...”

“Not much future here... Tell... Tell Steve... Tell Steve I love him...” Y/N turned her head to the side, her skin disappearing, gone from Tony’s hands as he whispered, “He knows...”

(1 Month Later)

“Tony... I need you to focus...” Steve addressed Tony carefully. Tony snapped his head around to look at Steve, “And I needed you, as in past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late, buddy! You know what I need?”

Tony turned around to face everybody, “I need a shave and a burger, not a bowl of soup. And I believe I remember telling all of you, alive and otherwise, that we needed a suit of armour around the world, whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not-”

“But that didn’t work out, did it?!” snapped Steve angrily. Tony jabbed a finger in Steve’s chest, “I said we’d lose, you said we’d ‘do that together, too.’ Guess what, Cap, we lost, and you weren’t there. But that’s what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We’re the ‘Avengers’, not the ‘Pre-vengers’-”

“Take it easy, Tony...” Rhodey muttered. Tony ignored him, “I’ve got nothing for ya, Cap. No coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero, zip, nada. No trust,” Tony ripped the RT from his chest and pushed it into Steve’s hand, “Here. Take this. You find him, you put this on, and hide...”

Weakly, Tony dropped to his knees, “I’m fine! Cap... When I say I have nothing, I mean it... You haven’t even asked about her and you know I was with her. She was right about you. You don’t love her in the way she loves you. She was never enough for you.”

Steve’s hands slipped and he stared at Tony hard, “Don’t talk to me like you understand what was going on.”

“She told me everything. As she dusted away, she said you were taking a break. I know she always felt like she was living in Peggy’s shadow. And she was right. Wanna know her last words?”

Steve was walking away but stopped in his tracks. Tony smirked, “I thought so. Her last words were this, exactly, ‘Tell Steve I love him’. I said he knows. But I don’t think you do.”

Steve stormed out of the room, the distant sound of smashing floating into the room.

“Y/N? It’s time...” Bucky’s voice sounded in her ear and a wave of nausea swept over her.

The time machine had been set up and Steve was talking to Bruce. Sam approached Steve, “You look a little nervous going by yourself. Ask nicely, I’ll go with you.”

“You’re a good man, Sam. But this one’s on me.”

With a small nod, Bucky leaves Y/N’s side and smiles sadly at Steve. Steve doesn’t break eye contact with him, “Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back, okay?”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you...” mutters Bucky. Steve grins and Bucky pulls him into a long, sorrowful hug, “Gonna miss you, buddy...”

“It’s going to be okay, Bucky...” replies Steve, trying to sound confident.

Y/N’s eyes hadn’t left the ground. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t-

“Y/N? Look at me, please. I don’t wanna leave like this.”

She didn’t look at him, “You should just go. Make it easier for both of us. I know your choice and I know what you’ve chosen.”

Steve shakes his head and places his finger under her chin, forcing her to look up, “You don’t know because I don’t know. I still haven’t made my mind up.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Last night-”

“Last night was the worst sex we’ve ever had. I’m telling you, Steve Rogers, you’ve made your mind up. And as much as I hate it, you deserve to be with someone who can make you happy. That person is not me.”

A hand cups her cheek, “You’ve made me so happy. You’ve spent 10 years thinking you weren’t enough, and you were. You were more than enough. You were too much for me. I didn’t deserve you.”

“Steve, please... Please... Just go...” begs Y/N, her eyes watering again. Steve leans forward, pressing a bittersweet kiss to her mouth. It’s hot and cold, black and white. It’s goodbye.

When she pulls away, Steve’s heart breaks a little more. It’s goodbye.

Sam turns to Bruce, “How long’s this gonna take?”

“For him, as long as he needs. For us, five seconds. Ready, Cap? You’re good to go. Meet you right back here, okay?”

You bet!” Steve calls back, glancing at Bucky, then at Y/N, who’s walking away. Steve’s heart breaks a little more and looks at Bucky again, mouthing, “Look after her...”

Bucky nods his head.

“Going Quantum in three, two, one.”

Steve disappears and Bruce’s voice rings out to where Y/N is now standing stock still, “Aaand, returning in five... four... three... two... one-”

Silence. Nothing happens.

Y/N pales as panic erupts.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know! He blew past our timestamp. He should be here.”

“Get him back!”

“I’m trying!”

“GET HIM THE HELL BACK-”

“I’M TRYING!!”

Y/N’s knees buckle and she lands in the mud, crawling into a fetal position as the truth hits her. Bucky’s voice calls out, “Y/N!”

He’s with her seconds as she cries into the ground, his arms around her tightly as he picks her up bridal style. She wriggles into her chest as Sam’s hushed voice echoes around the lake, “What the hell?”

Both Bucky and Y/N look up to see Sam holding Steve’s shield, “It was just left here. With this note.”

“Read it!” cries Bucky. Sam gulps, “’ Sam. Right now, you’re probably feeling a little confused. I knew I had a choice when I went back. I could stay in the past with Peggy or come back. If I stayed with Peggy, there’d be no Captain America in the future. So this is for you. A brilliant man once told me that I must remain a good man and not a perfect soldier. You are a good man. I know you will always try your best, which is why it’s going to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to give you it in person, but I still have important choices to make. I wish you, and Bucky, and Y/N the very best. And who knows, maybe one day, we will meet again. Because it’s been a long, long time.’“

Sam looks up in awe and Bucky smiles, “Good on you Birdbrain. Now I have to help Y/N clean up.”

Sam nods his head as Bucky walks away, Y/N in his arms. He knows the world is changing, and with Steve gone, it’s up to him, and Sam, and Y/N. The world still needs protecting. But first, they have to heal. They have to rest.

I wanted to leave this ending open to specualtion as to what Steve does. However, I have written an ending for those who want some closure.

- Bonus Scene -

He peers out from behind the trees and watches as Bucky carries Y/N away. He doesn’t know why he didn’t reveal himself but he knows he’s made the right decision with Sam. He thinks he made the right choice coming back.

One look at Peggy and Steve realises he made a massive mistake. All those years making Y/N feel worthless because he was still in love with Peggy and now he doesn’t want her. He just wants Y/N.

He’d written the note before he left the 40s and then accidentally blew past the time stamp. To top things off, he missed the landing point. Fallen into some mud behind a tree and barely had time to dump the shield and note in a place where Sam would find it.

When he saw Y/N on the floor, seemingly having a panic attack, his heart had shattered. He’d almost ran out to her, but Bucky got there first. Then he felt rooted to the spot. What if Bucky could offer more than he could? What if Bucky was better than him?

He’d spent years making Y/N feel like she was never enough and now fear crept in. What if she didn’t want him?

Steve realised he had to hide, and see if Y/N liked Bucky better. If she did...

He’d leave. Not to the past, or the future. But somewhere desolate. Somewhere quiet and alone.

Alone.

Y/N had always said she was born alone and she’d die alone.

But she was never alone.

Steve had been born with someone and had always assumed he die with someone.

For the first time ever, he was alone. He had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For the first time ever, Steve was genuinely terrified.

He had nowhere to go.

Tony was right. They’d lost. He’d lost. And he’d had to lose it on his own.

145 notes · View notes

justatiredpotato · 4 years

Text

Set Me Free | Chapter 7 (Ending)

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 4,000~ Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: mentions of physical abuse, injuries, blood, trauma, a lot of crying but there’s a happy ending I swear

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

Another Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic! It took a long time for me to finish and edit, but I’m so glad I finally got the idea out of my head and into the world. I’ve been kicking around ideas for a little epilogue (something short and fluffy) if anyone would be interested in that. I also have plans for future fics with the other boys in this same AU. :)

As soon as you recognized the man in the video, you called the police. Kwon Hyunjoong’s name wasn’t unfamiliar to the city police. They’d had multiple run-ins with him investigating hybrid crimes. But he was always careful enough to worm his way out of the charges. The lax hybrid rights laws didn’t help the situation. Even with all the progress and new policies implemented in recent years there was often next to nothing that could be done to stop the atrocities. Fortunately, since Yoongi was registered as yours, the police could pursue it as a theft and potentially damage to personal property. Depending on the degree of harm, it could be brought to trial as an animal abuse case. You didn’t like it, but it was the only way they could help you.

The problem was that Hyunjoong had multiple establishments at different locations, so the police weren’t sure where to start looking. Luckily the head of the hybrid crimes division, Detective Moon Bora, was more than happy to take it as an opportunity for a police raid on several of his known locations. Hopefully that would give them a chance to gather evidence and shut at least part of his operation down. Still, you needed to find the place he’d taken Yoongi too. You remembered the business card the snake of a man had given you when he came into the cafe. You quickly dialed Jin, who was still at your apartment with the rest of the guys.

“Jin, can you look for something in my desk? It’s a business card, mostly purple with some kind of logo on it. Should say the name Kwon Hyunjoong on it,” you said, not bothering with a hello.

“On it,” Jin said. You heard his footsteps and then the shuffling as he rifled through your desk drawers. “Got it! The Eclipse Club. *** W. **th Street. Is that where he is?”

“Maybe,” you responded, then hung up. You quickly called the police back and told them what was on the card. They assured you’d they’d send units there immediately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to just wait. So you snagged Namjoon’s keys out of his pocket and ran back to the car. By the time he, Jimin, and Jungkook caught up you were already pulling out of the parking lot. Namjoon banged on the window and tugged at the door handle but the doors had locked automatically when you put it in drive and there was no way you were stopping the car. You didn’t even glance in the rearview as you drove away, not seeing your little brother run his hands through his hair in frustration, Jungkook frantically dialing for a cab, and Jimin watching with wide, frightened eyes.

You punched the address into your phone’s GPS at the next light. To say you were speeding would be an understatement of comical proportions, but none of the cops that zipped past you with their sirens blaring, seemed to care. It both comforted and terrified you to see the pure volume of police heading to the same destination as you. You pulled up in front of the club to find several police cars already stopped near the entrance. The officers were trying to set up a perimeter so no potential witnesses or perpetrators could slip away. They weren’t being nearly as cautious about letting people in, so you managed to shoulder your way through the writhing crowd of sweaty and inebriated club-goers.

Once inside you suddenly felt overwhelmed. You had no idea where to start looking. With no better ideas, you started elbowing people aside and moving through the building, screaming Yoongi’s name. A young girl—she couldn’t have been more than nineteen—with round black ears nestled in her curly white hair bumped into you. One of her eyes was blacked and a split ran through her pretty doll-like lip. She hurried to apologize, straightening her microscopic tulle skirt as she bowed. You quickly grabbed her arm drawing her eyes back up to meet yours.

“Yoongi!” you shouted at her. She frowned, understandably confused. “I’m looking for a guy called Yoongi,” you said again, leaning closer in hopes she could hear you better over the deafening sound of the crowd and the music still blaring through the speakers.

“Yoongi?” she said, clearly not recognizing the name. Your heart sank as you realized with horror that Kwon Hyunjoong might not have brought Yoongi here. “Yeah. Smallish guy, soft cheeks, honey-blond hair, little black cat hears and tail.” You described, hoping to jog her memory.

“Suga?” she said, coming to a realization. “They just brought him back. The master took him to the cage.” She nodded to a hallway in the back where several police officers were already shoving their way though the crowd. “He looked angry,” she added with a frown, ears twitching nervously.

“Thank you,” you said, giving her arm a squeeze as you started pushing through the crowd again. You reached the hallway relatively easily but your progress slowed when you came upon a crowd of officers gathered around a doorway, trying to usher two burly men in handcuffs through the throngs of inebriated people. You continued pushing your way through, managing to escape their notice for the most part even as you elbowed a few cops in the ribs. When you got close enough to the doorway you saw a set of metal stairs leading down, and heard a familiar voice echoing up the passage. Even in the form of pained wails and animal panic, you knew that voice.

“Yoongi!” you screeched, lurching past the last two people between you and the door. You practically fell down the stairs in your haste, the cops behind you shouting at you to stop. The officer at the door downstairs was shocked still for a moment by the appearance of your small, frantic frame. He came back to himself as you pushed past him, and he caught your arm to prevent you from entering. The wild swing of your arm caught you both off guard as you wrenched your arm free, stumbling forward onto your hands and knees and catching the officer in the jaw with a backhand in the process.

“Hey, stop right there!” the man shouted, but you were already moving toward the pale figure trying to make himself disappear into the corner. Yoongi hunkered there, pale and shaking in just a pair of boxers. Blood splattered the fabric where it dripped from lashes in his back and thighs. Two police officers, a man and a woman, stood a few feet away trying to get closer to help.

“What do we do?” the man asked.

“I don’t know. We might have to tranquilize him if he won’t let us get close.”

“S***, I hate to do it though. He’s already pretty messed up.” The male officer eyed the tranq gun in his hand unhappily.

“He needs medical attention thou-” the woman started. You’d heard more than enough.

“Yoongi!” you cried again, sprinting across the room to him, the officer from the door right on your heels.

“Miss, stop! It’s dangerous.”

You got within a few feet of Yoongi, but pulled up short when he hissed, actually hissed at you. He tried to shuffle further away. That was when you noticed one of his legs stretched out, held by a chain bolted to the center of the room. Everytime he tried to escape further the chain bit into his flesh, the skin already raw and bleeding there.

“Yoon? Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Yeoji-noona. Yoongi, baby, please.”

His head lifted just the tiniest bit as he looked at you. “Noona?” he said weakly. His voice was raw and wobbly, barely audible, but that was all you needed to hear. You were at his side in a heartbeat. He finally moved forward a bit, no longer pulling against the chain and you heard him draw a breath through his teeth at the sting as the metal shifted against the wound on his ankle. He pressed himself to you, burying his face in your chest. You did your best to hold him without touching the raw skin of his back.

You pulled away for a moment and he sobbed, panicked, so you hurried to peel off your sweater and pull it over his body. He didn’t even put his arms through the sleeves, more concerned with getting as close to you as possible. Your scent enveloping him made him feel so safe despite the intense pain he was in, and that only made him sob harder. You knew the movement from crying so hard must hurt considering how bad his injuries were, so you patted his hair soothingly, wrapping an arm over his waist and hip—the least damaged section of skin you could find—to hold him closer. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t just his cries filling the room, you were crying with him.

The cops gave up on pulling you away from him, so you sat like that for several minutes. The voices in the room seemed very far away, not that you could hear very well anyway over your own breathing and pounding heartbeat. Someone touched your shoulder, lightly trying to pull you away. You shook them off with a terrified cry that didn’t even seem human. It was a primal wail of heartbreak and terror at even the hint of separating you from Yoongi.

“Noona.” A warm voice broke through your emotional haze. “Noona, hyung, it’s Hoseok. It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

You lifted your face from where it was buried in Yoongi’s hair, and found Hoseok standing there, emergency response bag in hand.

“Hobi,” you said, voice barely holding. “Help him.” Despite your words, you didn’t let Yoongi go, only turning with him in your arms so Hoseok could get a look at his back. He packed some gauze onto the wounds and then waved over two men with a stretcher.

“We’ve gotta get him to a hospital. The staff at my hospital is fantastic, they’ll look after you.” You bristled as the two paramedics settled Yoongi on his stomach on the stretcher, never letting go of his hand.

“You aren’t coming with us?” you asked.

“Yoongi-hyung isn’t the only person here who needs medical attention. Some of them are going straight to the shelter. I need to stay and help out.”

“Take us to the shelter too,” you decided. “Someone else can go to the hospital. I only trust you and Jin’s staff.”

“Noona…”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi, mumbled into the cushion of the stretcher. He winced as he spoke, not continuing, but you both took it as him weighing in on the argument. Hoseok sighed and turned to the paramedics.

“Take them to Remedy shelter. Taehyung will be waiting for you at the emergency entrance.” Hoseok placed a comforting kiss on top of your head and hurried off to help elsewhere.

The ambulance ride was silent and tense as you hovered over the paramedics’ every move. You shot daggers at them when Yoongi so much as winced. You knew it wasn’t their fault, but your protective instincts were in overdrive, especially after having failed him so recently.

Taehyung was indeed waiting at the emergency entrance for you. Other ambulances were also unloading patients. Apparently Detective Moon had been serious about the extent of the raids taking place that night. Tae was frantically checking patients in and dealing with drivers and medical staff.

“Yoongi-hyung!” he cried, abandoning the conversation he’d been having as soon as the ambulance doors opened. He appeared around the door, eyes puffy and red, obvious tear tracks staining his cheeks. His voice hiccuped as he spoke and it made more tears fall from your eyes. To be honest they had never really stopped. Yoongi didn’t answer, passed out from a combination of pain, pain-killers, and exhaustion. Tae looked at you anxiously, the question clear in his eyes.

“He’s- He’ll be okay. I think he’ll be okay,” was all you managed.

A doctor met you at the door. He was young, handsome, and remarkably calm. “Dr. Ko Shinwon,” he introduced himself as the paramedics wheeled Yoongi to a trauma bay and transferred him to a hospital bed. They briefed Dr. Ko on Yoongi’s condition before returning to the ambulance. A nurse stepped in to assist him as Dr. Ko started working.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside,” another nurse asked. She placed a gentle hand on your arm to guide you away.

“No! No, I can’t leave him.” You stepped closer to Yoongi’s side.

“Miss, I really have to insist.”

Yoongi groaned, making Dr. Ko and the nurses glance at him. He slipped his hand off the edge of the bed and felt for your fingers, threading them together and holding on tightly. “Noona, please,” he whimpered.

“It’s fine, Nurse Jung. Please just try to keep out of the way, miss.” He gave you a serious, appraising look before going about his tasks. You crouched next to Yoongi, gently petting his hair and whispering sweet nonsense, shushing and cooing every time he winced at pain that managed to cut through the numbing. The stitches were the worst part, and it was all you could do to avert your eyes and not pass out. Once the wounds were dressed Dr. Ko excused himself to see his next patient and the nurses checked monitors and IVs. They told you to call if anything changed, then slipped out and pulled the curtain shut.

A few moments later Yoongi shuddered and whimpered a little. “Cold,” he said.

You straightened and looked around, spotting a blanket folded in the cupboard next to the bed. You pulled it out with the hand Yoongi wasn’t clinging to and draped it over him. Then you paused, considering. Yoongi shivered again and you quickly made up your mind, slipping under the blanket next to him. Your body was only half way on the bed, wanting to leave more than enough room for him, but you didn’t care. He immediately shifted, wincing a little at the movement, and settled with his head on your chest, side pressed tightly to yours. You ran your hands through his hair.

You sat quietly for a while, listening as his breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed. The familiar warmth reminded you of the night before, and the thought brought tears to your eyes again. How could you have been so blind to Yoongi’s feelings? You hurt him so badly, and you almost lost him because of it. You held back from crying harder again, not wanting to disturb Yoongi, but your guilt over the whole situation ate at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, looking lovingly at the boy before you.

“‘m sorry, noona.”

You startled at the sound of his voice, surprised he was listening. “Don’t be sorry, baby. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Made you uncomfortable. Shouldn’t have done that. Made you worry. ‘s bad. Sorry.”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. You aren’t bad. My sweet honey boy, you are so perfect. I love you,” you said. Your voice was thick with emotion but you said the words clearly, with certainty.

Yoongi chuckled, flinching as he did so. You could feel the movement against your chest. “Not the same. ’s okay. Doesn’t have to be the same. Just let me love you ‘n I’m okay.”

You craned your neck to look at him. “What if it is the same? Yoongi, it is the same. I love you so much, I can’t believe you haven’t seen through me yet.” He tilted his head up to face you, uncertainty creasing his brow. You smiled softly and ran your thumb over his face to smooth out the wrinkle. “I love you, Yoongi.” You hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and pressed a firm but gentle kiss to his lips. You’d imagined doing this an embarrassing number of times, but somehow, they were even softer than you expected. The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled away, examining his face for a reaction. He didn’t disappoint, gracing you with the gummy smile that could single-handedly keep your heart beating. His eyelids were heavy, but he clearly had things to say.

“Love you,” he mumbled. His next words were more or less unintelligible.

“Shh,” you stopped him, running your fingers through his hair and scratching gently at his ears. “Talk tomorrow.”

He grumbled a protest, but didn’t try to say anything more. Instead he leaned his face up toward you expectantly. You chuckled and gave him three quick pecks, one on his forehead, one on his button nose, and one on his pouty lips. He smiled into that last kiss, then nuzzled into your neck where your scent was strongest. The combination of your perfume and your natural fragrance lulled him into unconsciousness within minutes, one of his hands finding the soft flesh of your hip to knead at. You smiled, wiped the tears from your cheeks with your free hand, and closed your eyes.

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Yoongi was in the hospital for two weeks. The beating had done some internal damage and the doctors were concerned about infection in the lacerations on his back. The boys helped out, taking care of things at the cafe so you could spend every possible moment by Yoongi’s bedside.

The relief you felt when they gave him the okay to go home was indescribable. It felt like you finally had permission to get back to normal. But of course, things weren’t entirely back to normal. Sometimes it felt like all the progress Yoongi made when he came to live with you had evaporated. He was jumpy and timid again, shying away from the boys when they came around. He even flinched away from you sometimes when you moved too fast.

You realized quickly that you couldn’t have him working with the public in the cafe again. Not yet. So Jimin and Jungkook picked up extra shifts whenever they could. You thanked them at least once every time you saw them, but they just brushed you off. You had to fight tooth and nail for them to take the pay for their extra hours. Every time you had to leave Yoongi and look after the business it broke your heart. He always watched you walk out the door as if you might not come back to him.

One particularly warm spring afternoon Jimin burst into the cafe, running late and still wearing his clothes from dance practice.

“Sorry I’m late, noona! Let me go get changed,” he panted as he slipped behind the counter.

“No worries. You can use my room to change in.” You nodded back toward the apartment and he ran off to get cleaned up for work. When he reemerged barely ten minutes later he managed to look more put together than you did after a half hour of effort. His bubble-gum pink hair nicely coiffed instead of the disheveled state it was in when he arrived.

“How do you always look so nice?” you marveled. You reached up and scratched his ear, careful not to disturb his neatly styled hair. He purred happily at the compliment. You hoped someday Yoongi might purr as freely as Jimin did.

“Thanks!” Jimin smiled, eyes turning to little crescent lines as he did. “I can take it from here. You should get back to Yoongi-hyung.” He paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something else. “Noona, aren’t you guys…?” He let the words hang in the air, but you knew what he was asking.

The truth was, after your confession that night in the hospital, you hadn’t really talked about your relationship. With everything that happened, it just never seemed like the right time. You spent much of the time since then wrapped in Yoongi’s arms, or him in yours, even placing the occasional peck on his cheek. But it was like both of you feared going any further. You saw the hesitation in his eyes everytime he stood just a little too close to you, or looked into your eyes a little too long. He couldn’t seem to find the courage to say or do anything, and you didn’t want to push him too far. He would make a move when he was ready, right?

You blinked, realizing Jimin had been waiting for you to speak while you stared into space. “I- I don’t know, Jimin. We were. At least I thought we were… something. I told him I loved him, in the hospital.” Jimin’s eyes widened, a hint of a smile on his lips. You leaned on the counter and let out a sigh before continuing. “He seemed happy. He even said it back. But we haven’t talked about it since then. He was so high on adrenaline and painkillers then, I’m not even sure he knew what he was saying.”

Jimin stopped you before you could make any more excuses. “He knew. Noona, he’s loved you for so much longer than you realize. But you know better than anyone else how scared he must be. If you rejected him, he might never recover, so he can’t do anything at all. I’m sure he feels like you’re too good for him. He needs you to assure him that you love him, and he deserves that.” You looked at Jimin, amazed at the wisdom he’d just dropped out of nowhere. He smiled, clearly pleased with the advice he’d given and your reaction. “I sounded pretty cool just now, huh?”

You grinned pulling him into a vicious bear hug. “Yes my sweet Chim Chim, you were super cool just now. Thank you.” You pulled back and he examined your face, clearly reading the nervousness there and in your scent. “I need to go talk to Yoongi.”

You took a steadying breath and he patted your shoulder. “Fighting!” he cheered as he waved you off.

Back in the apartment dinner was already finished. Yoongi was waiting at the table scrolling on his phone.

“I’m sorry I’m late Yoongs! Let me go change real quick.” You quickly peeled off your work clothes and put on shorts and a tank top, knowing the apartment was already warm, and it would be warmer when Yoongi inevitably wanted snuggles later. You returned to the table and took a chair across from him.

“Wow, this looks great!” You looked over the table, genuinely impressed. Yoongi had been cooking a lot lately. He found it was a relaxing way to pass his time, and he loved to see you enjoy what he prepared. You’d purchased several new kitchen tools and appliances for him, and he used them all. “Did you make this pasta yourself?” you asked, incredulous as he served you a generous slice of lasagna. Glancing at the kitchen counter you found the pasta press out, still dusted with flour. He nodded bashfully in response.

“This is my first attempt, so don’t expect too much. I’m just hoping it’s edible.” You both laughed and dug into the food. It was great. All of Yoongi’s first attempts seemed to end up delicious, unlike your kitchen misadventures.

After dinner you settled onto the couch together. He was sprawled half on top of you, laying between the back of the couch and your body, head on your shoulder. He was focused on the TV—he’d been watching obsessed with old Iron Chef episodes of late—but you were focused on him, hands gently stroking his hair and ears. A satisfied smile spread on your face when the now-familiar rumble started from his chest. You decided that now, when he was happy and relaxed, was as good a time as any to talk about everything.

“Yoon?” you called softly, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“Hm?” He looked up at you questioningly.

“Can we talk about something?” You tried to phrase it in a non-threatening way and keep your tone light, but his brow still furrowed as he grabbed the remote to pause his show.

“What do you want to talk about?” He propped himself up on one elbow and avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing bad. At least I really hope not,” you said with a nervous laugh that did little to ease Yoongi’s anxiety. “Do you remember that first night in the hospital?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, then looked away again. Clearly he remembered something. “Some of it. It’s a little blurry in spots. What about it?”

“We… We talked about some things. Do you remember that?” You looked at him expectantly, but he stayed quiet. “I told you I love you,” you said quietly.

He looked at you sharply. “That was real?” he asked, almost more to himself than to you.

“What?”

“I thought I dreamed that. I was on so much pain medication that I figured I was hallucinating or something. You- You actually said that?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes. And I meant it. I still mean it. I’d like to be more than just your friend, if that’s something you want.” You put a hand on his cheek so he’d hold your gaze, stroking it gently with your thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Yoongi said without hesitation. His eyes were glassy and he studied your face for a moment. Half of him expected this to be a cruel prank, but you didn’t laugh. You just smiled softly, admiring the soft features of his face. You reached down to clasp your other hand with his.

“Does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” you asked, still somehow nervous now that everything was out in the open.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed you. After a second he leaned back and looked at you to gage your reaction. You smiled and leaned up, bumping his nose with yours. He grinned and kissed you again. His lips moved against yours, gentle but you could feel the emotion in every move. You ran your fingers through his soft blond hair, tugging on it a little and he nipped teasingly at your lip. You let out a surprised gasp and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You enthusiastically followed his lead, wrapping your leg over his hip to pull his body closer to yours. Your hand pulled free from his to rest on his waist. He shuddered as you trailed your fingers down his side. The hand not supporting his weight grabbed your hip. Your fingers found the edge of his t-shirt and slid under it, finding the warm skin of his back.

At the feeling of your fingers on his bare skin he tensed, breaking the kiss. You looked at him confused, but immediately stopped touching him, removing your leg and releasing your gentle grip on his hair. He sat up, his body shaking a little.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” you asked, growing concerned at his obvious distress.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just.” He squeezed his eyes shut and slowed his breathing. You waited, resting your hand palm up on your lap so he could take it if he wanted to. He did. He twined your fingers together and took a longer, slower breath before he spoke. “I’ve never had someone I actually like, y’know, touch me, or kiss me. It felt nice, but when you touched my skin, my scars…” Your fingers tightened on his hand, heart aching as you realized what he was getting at. “I just started to remember all the bad times, the bad people, the things they did, the things they made me do.”

“We can go as slow as you need. Whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s enough for me.”

He huffed, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. “I just- I want this. I love you and I trust you. I hate that I’m letting them take this from me; letting them beat me.”

“Hey.” You wiped a tear from his cheek and kissed his forehead. “They are not beating you. You’re here, with me. You are safe and healthy. You’re still able to love someone, and you are loved. You have a family. Despite everything you’ve been through, you survived. Sure, you have scars, but you’re working hard to heal. I am so proud of you, Yoongi. You deserve a happy ending, and you’ll get one. We both will.”

“You think?”

“I know. I promise, we’ll get through this.”

He nodded and lay back down, resting his head on your chest so he could listen to your heartbeat. You resumed the forgotten episode of Iron Chef and went back to playing with his hair. You were just dozing off, his purr lulling you to sleep, when Yoongi spoke again.

“Noona?”

“Mhm?”

“I really love you.”

You smiled, already half in a dream. “I love you too, honey boy.” You kissed his head and fell asleep with your face tucked in his hair.

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