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cinnaminsvga · 3 years

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a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it.

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch. If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away. Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p. You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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you get kidnapped by the fatui headcanons (diluc & kaeya)

prompt: Diluc and Kaeya headcanons for reader getting kidnapped by the Fatui before they have a chance to confess that they’re in love with her, as requested by @lohai-of-favonius word count: 2.1k (lol “headcanons”) characters featured: diluc, kaeya reader: gender-neutral/female/male (can be read any way, it’s in second-person pov) style: headcanons w/ angst then fluff warnings: possible spoilers for diluc & kaeya related info, light descriptions of injuries, kidnapping, light descriptions of violence

a/n: i made these into headcanons, i hope that’s okay! i was getting a little longwinded on the both of them and i feel like the scenarios would’ve turned into full length fics otherwise haha. i definitely need to learn to write less. i hope i interpreted the prompt well!

“I have a commission awaiting me,” You stated, refusing to make eye contact with the man in front of you as you absentmindedly fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt. “In Liyue. Looking for a missing person. Should be routine stuff, I’ll be back in a week, max.”

You glanced at the man in front of you. If you could notice the concern he wore on his expression, you failed to verbally acknowledge it and instead took one of their hands in yours, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. You don’t have to ring the alarm bells just yet!” You joked, plastering a small smile. As the man in front of you realized his expression was morphing into one of worry, he smoothed over his expression and composed himself.

He knew he couldn’t control your actions, nor had any room in stating which course of action you should take when it came to accepting your commissions. Missing person cases, while a valiant cause, often led to bad news. But, you were a hero at heart and here he stood, merely a friend of yours. Now wasn’t the time for a heartfelt confession of love that he desired to send your way. Doing so would only unfairly manipulate you into staying and he knew you were strong enough to make it back on your own.

But, a week later, as he awaited your arrival at the gates of Mondstadt, worry plagued the man who had fallen in love with your heroic, dutiful spirit over the last few months. As the hours ticked by, he realized he needed to have a new course of action...

KAEYA

Upon you going missing with little to no information, Kaeya would notify the Knights of Favonius, first and foremost. In fact, he speaks to Amber first, as he believes her to be trustworthy and her status as an Outrider makes her most likely to encounter you first.

However, despite his growing concern, he remains optimistic. You’re a strong fighter who has helped him clear countless hilichurl camps. He knows you can handle yourself well. You’re likely just taking longer than expected or picked up extra work in Liyue before returning.

A few days later, Fischl, one of the Adventurer’s Guild’s investigators, approaches him with information on your whereabouts. However, after lots of back and forth between the two, he finally understands (with the help of Oz’s translations) that you’ve been kidnapped by the Fatui.

Kaeya immediately panics, but manages to keep his cool, charming facade up until Fischl leaves his presence. Now left alone in his office in the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Kaeya paces around, trying to think of a plan.

Kaeya wants nothing more than to ride a horse straight into Liyue and search for you, taking down anyone that gets in his way. However, there’s one thing that limits him: Diplomacy.

Kaeya’s a part of the Mondstadtian government, meaning that any action he takes in Liyue directly reflects on the nation of Mondstadt as a whole. It wouldn’t look good to dirty his hands with Fatui blood in a land that isn’t his own. Not only would it be detrimental to his well-being, it would also put the freedom of Mondstadt at risk, which goes directly against the promise he made when being sworn in as a Knight.

Therefore, he has to use the next best thing: Connections. The Adventurer’s Guild has been extremely helpful on intel, he has friends in the Liyue Millileth, and he’s even willing to swallow his pride and reach out to Diluc if it means your safe return.

Diluc, despite his tense relationship with his brother, has always had a soft spot for your presence, so he’s more than willing to help by spreading word around the tavern.

As days go by, Kaeya gets antsy and right when he’s about to say fuck it and mess up the entirety of Sneznhayan-Liyuean-Mondstadtian geopolitical relations by murdering some Fatui to get you back, Amber bursts into his office and doubles over, trying to catch her breath after sprinting to the Knights of Favonius headquarters.

“We found her. With Barbara,” She manages to wheeze out. Without caring for the state of the Outrider’s lungs, Kaeya shoves past her and immediately sprints to the cathedral.

He rushes to the back where he’s met with your figure lying in a hospital bed. As he enters your room, your eyes flutter open to give him a bleary-eyed smile, despite all of your injuries.

He opts for sitting next to you and taking your uninjured hand in his, hesitant to move you a lot in fear that it would only hurt you. However, he wants nothing more than to wrap you in his embrace and never let you go. But instead, he simply brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles lightly, whispering a thank you to Barbatos for your safe return as his lips ghost along your skin.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes as Kaeya plays with your fingers, trying to think of the words to say. You, on the other hand, are content with sitting in silence, far too tired to explain everything that had happened to you over the course of your adventure.

“Who rescued you?” The first words out of Kaeya’s mouth are not a love confession, but rather embittered words, laced with jealousy. He wants nothing more than have to been the knight to bust down the door of wherever you were held captive and whisk you away to safety, solidifying the image of him in your eyes as a protector.

“I rescued myself,” You speak softly, a smirk spreading across your lips. “I beat up those Fatui jerks and escaped myself.”

Kaeya looks up from gazing absentmindedly at your hand and makes eye contact with you. Before he can stop it, a proud laugh escapes from his lips and you begin to laugh with him too. Despite all his worries, you had come back alive and in one piece, just scraped up. You didn’t need him to play protector -- you had yourself. He was just designed to be your cheerleader. As this thought settled into his head, his laughter subsided and a content smile graced his lips.

“I’m in love with you,” He confesses in the comfortable silence between the two of you. Kaeya was normally the type for bald-faced lies, but tonight, he felt as if he wanted nothing more than to peel back his layers of mystery and be honest with you.

You beam at him, rotating your hand in his grip and squeezing back. “I know. Aren’t you lucky that I feel the same way?”

DILUC

When you go missing, Diluc immediately expects foul play. He’s definitely more worrisome than Kaeya, but Diluc is more fearful of losing the one he loves. He’s experienced loss before and has built up walls around himself to avoid losing that again and, while Kaeya does the same, Diluc is far less charming and suave with his words.

Diluc has let you in as both a friend and has fallen in love with you. He doesn’t want to lose you before he can tell you how you’ve broken down his walls.

He trusts you to be able to take care of yourself, but even the mightiest of warriors can be kept off guard. Therefore, Diluc begins using his wealth to find information out about your location and what happened to you. While it might not result in the most reliable information, Diluc knows money can get people to talk more than anything.

Diluc quickly learns that the Fatui are holding you hostage and finds out where. The location is in Liyue, so Diluc does what Diluc does best: He sets out to rescue you himself.

He doesn’t take much with him besides a horse, his claymore, some food and medical supplies, and your weapon of choice. He doesn’t know what shape you’ll be in, but he knows that if you’re even remotely conscious, you’ll want to help him fight.

When he infiltrates where the Fatui are holding you, he’s filled with rage upon seeing your bruised and beaten form in the corner, chained to the wall, as if the Fatui had tried to get information out of you but failed.

Determined to rescue you safely, Diluc realizes that he’d have to fight the multiple Fatui that were now alert to his presence as well. The four Fatui members in the vicinity look like they had already had a rough time capturing you and are less than thrilled at the prospect of fighting Mondstadt’s Darknight Hero.

However, Diluc will be damned if he lets them run. He makes quick work of the Fatui members, thanks to your assistance in fighting as hard as you could before being captured.

Once the Fatui are defeated, Diluc immediately crouches by your figure, breaking the shackles holding you with his claymore.

“My hero,” You sigh in a dreamy voice as a mischievous grin forms on your face, causing Diluc to both sigh in exasperation and flush red at the same time. However, your voice becomes sincere as you utter your next words. “Thank you.”

“You would do the same for me,” Diluc responds, his words filled with truth. Diluc trusts you more than anyone else in Teyvat. He scoops you up bridal-style and carries you over to his horse. The two of you ride back to Dawn Winery in silence, with you sitting in front of him as he holds the reins. His arms around your waist prevent you from falling and the rhythmic motions of the horse lull you into sleep.

You awake in one of Dawn Winery’s beds with fresh bandages. At your bedside, fresh water and fruit had been placed for your consumption upon waking, but you’re not too concerned with either at the moment. You decide to eat some before going to find Diluc, realizing that he’d probably chew you out for not taking care of yourself if he found out.

As soon as you’re finished, you hobble out of bed, determined to find Diluc. You spot him on the balcony and as you creak open the door, Diluc whips his head around and frowns at you.

“You should be in bed,” He chastises, immediately rushing over to you. He notices the fact that you have to lean against the doorframe for support and sighs. “Why would you ever get out of bed with your injuries?”

You let out a small giggle. “I wanted to see my charming hero, who is just as excited to see me too,” You croon, enjoying the way the tips of his ears flush red at your teasing. You reach out your arms to him. “Carry me back?”

Diluc sighs and picks you up once again. “You have me wrapped around your finger,” He murmurs into your hair as he carries you back. You’ve latched onto him like a koala, with his hands supporting your thighs and your arms around his shoulders. You bury your face into his neck and sigh with content, causing him to flush an even deeper shade of red.

Despite his embarrassment about the current situation coloring his face, Diluc realizes that he doesn’t mind if everyone else in the winery sees him carrying you like this. It would showcase that you were clearly his.

As the two of you return to your room, Diluc gently lays you down on the bed and turns to leave, but you grab his wrist before he can make his escape. His face is still flushed a deep scarlet when he turns around to face you, causing you to let out another laugh.

As the morning sun filters in through the window, your eyes twinkle with delight as you stare up at Diluc, happy to be in his presence. Diluc looks down at you, entranced by how carefree you look, despite the hell of what you had just gone through. Despite all the bandages that cover your face, arms, legs, and torso, Diluc views you as a sculpture crafted with the finest materials by the gods themselves.

As he brushes the hair out of your face, Diluc realizes that he would rescue you a thousand times over if he could relive this moment of you being happy, without any of life’s typical worries etched into your face. That’s when he fully realizes how he feels about you, embracing the feelings he had long sought to push away.

“I’m in love with you,” He states, gently cupping your face in his hand. You reach up and cover his hand with yours, smiling softly at him.

“I’m in love with you too, Diluc,” You murmur as he closes the distance between the two of you and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc headcanons #kaeya headcanons #diluc #kaeya #genshin impact #*headcanons #*writing #*diluc #*kaeya

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candyflosstoxicity · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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rileymustdie · 3 years

Note

So yk how hawks lost his wings yeah so hm what if it was a different story and the reader was a healer and brought his wings back BUT it hurts her in the process that’s my request if u can do it :)

UGH YOUR MIND

•angst, death, manga spoilers

•you both were a very good match. you both got along together, plus the fact that you were a healer and he was a pro hero that was constantly in fights, yeah he adored you.

• when he would come home all bruised and cut up, you would heal him. it only caused you a small headache, plus you had a happy and snuggly boyfriend after, what could be the problem?

•you never told him that if you overuse your quirk, it hurts you. you didn’t want him to start ignoring his injuries just because he didn’t want to hurt you. the headaches weren’t that bad anyways.

•that is until he loses his wings. the doctors said there was little to no chance of them coming back he was so upset about it and you knew you had to do something. so, you offered to attempt to heal them. his eyes lit up at the offer and so you sat behind him on the bed, trying your best to focus your power on him. now you have a massive headache and nothing even happened. you tell him “maybe it just takes time?” he goes back to sleep, upset. he knows it’s not really your fault and he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up but the thought of having his wings back made him so happy.

•the next day you wake him up and ask if you can try again. you hate seeing him so upset, might as well take a few ibuprofen and get over it. he says yes so you try again, nothing happens. you lean your head on his back with a sigh. “sorry birdie, nothing happened”. he nods and you help him get up to go make breakfast.

•he notices while you were cooking that your eyebrows were furrowed and you looked a bit dizzy. he decides it’s just that you were tired. you go about the rest of your day like normal. hawks calls as many doctors as he can find to see if they can do something about his wings while you work on some household chores. you go to bed, still with the headache

•you continue trying for about a week with no results. finally, you begin to see two small bumps on his back. you tell him and he runs (stumbling a little bit) to the bathroom to see for himself. his face lights up and he picks you up and spins you around, thanking you. you stumble a bit when he puts you down. surely he didn’t put you down that hard, did he? he asks you if something is wrong, but you just brush him off and ask to go cuddle on the couch with a reassuring smile. he guesses he just put you down too hard and you both fall asleep on the couch.

•over the next month, you put more and more power into healing him. for every feather that appears on his back, another dark circle or bruise appears on you. he’s starting to get worried now, but you continue to act like you’re fine and blame it on low iron or just lack of sleep. he listens to you and you continue to heal him, but he keeps his worries in the back of his mind.

• after a few more weeks, he suggests that you should take a break from healing him. his wings are still small and not ready for actual flight, but it’s a large improvement from nothing. you tell him that you’re fine and that you need to keep healing him so he can go back to being a hero. he still tells you no, that he wants to wait until you’re feeling better. (keep in mind that you still haven’t told him that it’s hurting you) you agree with him and you go to bed that night.

•little did he know, you still healed him while he slept. of course not enough to where it would be noticeable the next morning, but you still wanted to help him.

•he started to notice that you hadn’t started to look any better over the past few weeks, and feeling so awful all the time took a toll on you too. every time you looked in the mirror, you saw the dark circles and bruises. how much weight you had lost. you looked deathly, compared to hawks. he was so bright, his muscles back to where they were originally, his hair so smooth. you felt like you should start listening to him and stop trying to heal him, until you heard him on the phone with the commission. “yeah! my partner has been healing me and my wings are coming back! i might even be able to go back to work soon!” oh no. he was no where near ready to go back, you had to work harder.

• you still continue to heal him little by little. you can no longer stand to look in the mirror or make eye contact with hawks for too long. one night before bed he’s holding you, and you start crying into his shoulder. he asks you what’s wrong, and you start explaining. you tell him how you’ve been healing him all this time, how insecure you’ve been, how sick you feel, how much you want to see him happy. you “forgot” to mention what your quirk does to you. he tries his best to comfort you and makes you promise to take a break.

•you decide to listen to him and you start to look a little better over the next few weeks. but unbeknownst to you or him, you’ve already caused permanent damage to yourself.

(also for plot reasons,, we’re going to act like hawks wouldn’t immediately take you to a doctor)

•you tell him that since you’re feeling better, you can start on healing him again. at first he shoots you down, saying that your health is more important to him than going back to work. but then he sees the look in your eyes, how you genuinely want to help him. “fine.” he says with a sigh, “once a week, but if you start feeling worse you have to tell me. deal?” “deal.”

•so, that next week you start again, and immediately you’re back to where you were. you know you should tell him, but he just looks so happy when he sees his wings growing. he only needs a few more weeks of healing and he should be able to fly again. you just have to hold on until then.

•one day, while he’s out getting groceries for the two of you, you start to feel more lightheaded than usual. you remember your phone on the couch and try to get over there to call keigo. you get to his contact, then the room goes dark. he comes home to you passed out on the couch, for a second he assumes you’re taking a nap and smiles down at you warmly. it’s only until he’s halfway through telling you about the new foods he got for the both of you to try that something was wrong. he walked over there and saw your phone was opened to his contact. he sat down next to you and asked if you were alright. no reply. he started to panic and picked you up, no response. you had a pulse going, a slow one. (a/n: i literally don’t know anything medical so i’m making this up and hoping it’s right) he immediately calls an ambulance, tears streaming down his face. “no, baby please don’t do this to me. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i should have payed attention more. please just be okay.” after about a minute of him sobbing into your shoulder, you start to wake up. your eyes barely open with a soft smile. he looks at you and hold you tight “what’s going on, what happened?” you give him a pained look as you start feeling numb. “i’m sorry keigo, i should have told you.” “tell me? tell me what? i don’t know what’s going on, i just walked in and you were passed out” he starts rambling, you use your last bit of strength to kiss him one last time. “you’re going to be a great hero keigo. i love you.” he stares while he processes what you said. “no, no please. don’t leave me. please there’s got to be something.” he grabs your wrist and checks for a pulse, vision blurry and shaking. nothing, you’re cold. he felt his breathing stop, his brain stopped working. the person he fell in love with so long ago, the person he spent long nights awake with talking about anything and everything, the person who greeted him with a warm and loving smile and dinner after a long day of patrol, the person who saw him at his weakest and brought him back up little by little, gone and never to return. he opened up his phone to do something, anything and there you were. the picture you had taken that day he brought you flying. your beautiful smile and that red shirt he got you for your birthday. he remembered how you said it looked so pretty next to his wings, he responded with “well, you look so pretty next to my wings” a silly response, yes, but it made you laugh and you kissed him on the cheek. he looked back at where you currently lay, grey and bony, no life left in you. all because of him. the ambulance finally arrived and they had to pry him off you. he finally got himself to stop crying so he could talk to them, but as soon as he saw them carrying you in the bag, his facade vanished and the tears started flowing again. that night on his way to bed, he saw the indentation on the bed of where you laid just that morning. he made his way to the couch, only to see your phone still on the coffee table. he started sobbing again, and fell asleep on the floor.

(tw: mentions of alcohol and suicide)

•your funeral was the next week, he went back to work the day after. he needed something to take his mind off you. he worked long hours, not caring how much his fragile and much smaller wings ached and how they could barely carry his weight. on his way home, he picked up the strongest alcohol he could get. he downed bottle after bottle and at one point, if he squinted hard enough, he could still see your sillouette.

• a month went by, he was miserable. some intern at his agency said “well, at least they died helping you. you can just get a different healer to finish the job, right?” he smacked the guy and retired then and there. he felt too much guilt, it was his fault you’re gone. just because he was too stupid to notice how bad you were getting. he stopped by your grave on his way home that night, the grass hadn’t even grown over the top. he looked at your name on the headstone. “heh, we didn’t even get to have the same last name yet. yknow, i had the ring in the drawer by the bed.” he looks down at the ground. “i know you worked so hard to fix my wings but, i hope you don’t mind too much if i joined you.” with that, he adds the roses to the growing pile of ones he brought before and heads home. the news the next morning read the title “Pro hero Hawks found dead after sudden retirement” He was with you again.

———————

okay okay i didn’t mean for this to be so long and so sad but here we are,, if you have any suggestions on how to edit it plz lmk! asks and requests are open and feedback would be appreciated! :)

#hawks angst #hawks x reader #bnha angst #keigo takami #keigo x you #keigo x reader #hawks x gender neutral reader #bnha headcanons #mha hawks

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Miss Bustier

Every year, Bustier looked forward to her birthday. All the teachers got together for drinks after school, and Bustier go show off all the wonderful presents her students got her. One gift in particular always was sure to wow.

However, the school year had been different than the previous ones. It had been a difficult year. The class seemed to be in a civil war. Marinette’s side versus everyone else. Caline was forced to expel Marinette after she was caught cheating. Only for it be revealed that she never cheated and Lila had a terrible disease that caused her to lie. The explosion was reversed and Bustier chalked it up to the students as terrible mistake.

Though the look Marinette had given her when she returned to class sent shivers up her spine.

Marinette resign as class president not long after. Lila took over but the sweet girl was so busy that the Alya and a few others were volunteered to step up and help out. Everything the class seemed to do or planned turn into a catastrophe.

An embarrassing one.

Caline started to avoid the teacher’s lounge after a bake sale ended up poisoning several of the students. Two of her students accidently started fires at another fundraiser. And the dance the class planned ended up with several students and two chaperones in the hospital because Lila ordered the gym floor to be waxed just before the dance.

She couldn’t take the snickering.

Plus, the other teachers had frequently needed to step in to sort out some of her students’ behavioral problems. Alya erupt in anger whenever she thought anyone had done anything wrong to her or her friends, got told off and given detentions many times before she finally learned her lesson. Alix had been caught tripping Marinette multiple times and had got suspended after the third incident. Lila had be verbally ordered by Mendeleiev to stop touching a clearly uncomfortable Adrien without his consent several times before she finally got the message. Mostly because Mendeleiev contact Adrien’s father and got a restraining order officially issued. Lila had to stay at least ten feet away from Adrien at all time when in class; fifty feet outside of it.

Which Caline thought was a bit harsh. She remembered what it was like to be a young girl in love. Emotions just overcome you at that age.

Normally, she would count on Marinette to rein the rest of the students in but girl had taken a step back from the other students. Or maybe they had taken a step back from her.

Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose seemed at odds with the rest of the students in class. And for the life of Caline’s she couldn’t figure out why. The small group never went to any fundraiser, vocally letting the class know they would not being going on any trips with them. They didn’t go to the dance, and Marinette made it clear she wouldn’t be helping decorate it. The costumes for the school play had been abysmal and not the usually quality they were; then Mylene informed Bustier that they couldn’t get their last costume designer to help out. Their last costume designer was Marinette.

The year had been rough but Bustier still looked forward to her birthday. Last year, she got a gorgeous cashmere scarf, the year before that an entire assortment of different chocolate pastries; every year, every all the gifts were amazing. She come on the morning of her birthday and find her entire classroom amazingly decorated, her students’ adoring faces looking at her, and a pile of presents on her desk.

This year was no different… technically.

The classroom was decorated but not nearly as well as it had been the previous years. It looked like the cheap decorations the other teachers were used to; not her. A majority of the students were smiling at her; but a few, Marinette and her team, just looked bored. There were presents on her desk but they all looked… basic.

Still Caline smiled happily and thanked her wonderful students for their thoughtful surprise and gifts. Only when they left for lunch, did she finally take time to examine them.

There were the usually gift cards, a box or two of cheap chocolates, some flowers, lovely handmade cards, some perfumes, and a gift basket full of amazing smelling various bath products, which was by far the best gift by far. But nothing outstanding like she usually got. Nothing she could show off to the other teachers as proof that her student adored her. It was the same type of gifts all the teachers got. Nothing extraordinary.

And it soured Caline’s cheerful mood a bit. She couldn’t understand it.

She still went out for drinks that night with the other teachers, still showed off her gift basket but saw none of the envious looks she was used to. When she got home, she looked over the presents again.

Bustier saw that each gift had was from a different student. Chloe and Adrien got her perfume. Rose got her gift card for a mani-pedi. Alya got her chocolates. She saw Marinette got her the gift basket and nodded, unsurprised; the girl always got her the best presents…

Caline paused. Marinette? Marinette got her the scarf from the year before; she made it. She also remember that Marinette was the one who gave her the delicious assortment of chocolate pastries from her parents’ bakery, the teacher supposed. In fact, as Caline thought back, Marinette always was one to get her the best gifts; whether it was for her birthday, Christmas, or teacher’s appreciation day.

Marinette was also one who always decorated the classroom, she recalled.

Marinette who had claimed to be too busy to be class president, to be on the decorating committee, to help fund raise, to make costumes for the school play, to be the good example for the class Caline needed her to be, and apparently too busy to get the fabulous gifts for her teacher like she used to.

Clearly, her student needed to be talked to. Caline would have to stress the importance of being an active presence in the class. Marinette needed to be a good leader so the other students could model after her. Her friends counted on her for help, no one should be too busy for that.

The following Monday, Caline Bustier finally got around to asking Marinette to stay after class.

“Marinette,” Caline started. “I’ve noticed you’ve become rather… distant lately with the other students in class.”

Marinette fought the urge not to roll her eyes, “We’ve had a falling out,” she said innocently. Not bothering to mention that it was Lila’s doing. “It’s fine. Things change. Friends go apart.”

“They don’t have to,” Bustier smiled. “You were such a wonderful class president; the entire class counted on you. Don’t you think you were a bit hasty in resigning… in that regard.”

“There was no avoiding it,” Marinette stated. Most of the class at that point at turned against her. And every time she tried to make plans or come up with ideas to fund raise she was shut down. “I’m interning with Wilhelmina Slater. She’s currently editor and chief for Mode Paris. I couldn’t turn that down. On top of that I’m overflowing with commission request; some come in by the website I launched, others from recommendations from my other clients. Also Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, if you remember, both announced three months ago that I was their personal stylist. I’ve been getting swamped with work ever since.”

Caline did remember. She had been shocked when she saw her student’s face on the news announcing her as up-and-coming Fashion design MDC. A number of celebrities tweeted that they had commissioned work from the teen; a dress here, a suit there, costumes. The announcement had only caused more derision in class towards Marinette, “But don’t you think helping your friends is more important than making money?”

Marinette blinked. “I am helping my friends.”

“Alya needed your help with the fundraising,” Bustier said. “Lila needed help with the dance. Mylene needed costumes for the play. Nino needed someone to design his set for a gig of his. You were too busy. How do you think that made them feel?”

“First of all, they never asked me for help,” Marinette quickly said. “Second-”

Caline cut her off, “Maybe they didn’t ask because they knew you’d be too busy.”

Marinette looked the teacher up and down and continued what she was saying, “Secondly, I have very few friends in class; and you didn’t name any of them. Lila is not my friend. Alya is not my friend. Neither is Nino, Mylene, Ivan, Max, Kim, or Alix for the record.”

Bustier reared back; shocked at the unexpected tone from Marinette.

Marinette crossed her arms. “I am helping my friends. Chloe is my PR manager, which is giving her amazing experience. Juleka and Rose model for me, and frequently get poached to model for other designers. Adrien gets to sit back and relax for once. Claude meets all the directors and actors I work with. He ended up getting an internship at WB. Nathaniel and Marc’s Ladybug comic got exposer after I used some of his designs of her on my clothing line. Images comics is picking up their comic to turn it into an entire series. Aurore is my personal assistant but that’s only to give her a clear reason to be there so she can interview any celebrities, I’m working with, that are willing to talk with her. She posted an interview with David Tennant about a cameo in Doctor; with him, Rose, and their kid. An hour later the website: Tumblr crashed. I do help my friends.”

Bustier sighed, “You’re having an argument. You didn’t stop being friends.” Honestly kids could be so dramatic sometimes. “Once you apologize everything will go back to normal.”

“And why should I apologize,” Marinette asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We talked about the Marinettes of the world, remember?” Caline smiled. “You have to be the bigger person; be an example for the other students. Show them the right way to act.”

“No.”

It was said so firmly but so quickly that the teacher nearly missed it as she opened her mouth to continue her speech but closed it as she processed what Marinette said, “No? What do you mean no.”

Marinette picked up her school bag and walked to the classroom door, “I mean, I won’t do it. I’m no one’s shining example. And in this situation, I refuse to be the bigger person. I have no intention of apologizing whatsoever.” She opened the door about to walk out. “Especially to people who you allowed to verbally harass me in class, trip me right in front of you, and disinvite me and my friends on class trips. I don’t care how it made them feel. I don’t care about them at all.” “Marinette,” Bustier started.

Marinette cut her off, “It is not responsibility to teach my classmates the right way to behave; it’s their parents’, it’s yours.” She said fiercely.

Bustier straighten herself up to her full height. She refused to allow any student of hers to speak to her like that. “I see. I will have to contact your parents to discuss your lack of participation in class.”

Marinette snorted, “Okay. You should do it soon, though. I and a number of other students sent in complaints to the school board about my wrongful expulsion, this class, the way you run it, and Damocles; with video evidence. Bourgeois and Agreste lawyers are leading the charge. Chloe out of sheer spite. Gabriel because of the clear case of sexual harassment you allowed Adrien to deal with from Lila. He’s out for blood.”

Caline Bustier paled. She couldn’t feel her legs. The school board? “Nothing is as bad as you say. You are overdramatizing everything.”

“My lawyer say different,” The bluenette shrugged. “If anything, they think I’m not understating things. Much like when I tell them, you’re a bad teacher.”

“I will not be spoke to like that!”

“What are you going to do?” Marinette asked with a single eyebrow raised, “Expel me?”

There was only silence to answer her question. Marinette just shook her head and left.

Leaving Caline Bustier wondering just how she let things get so out of hand. And more importantly, if she would even have a job come the new school year.

#ml fic #ml salt #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois

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it-was-summer · 4 years

Text

Who Do You Love? (Five x reader)

Requested: YES!! I am so so so happy that people are sending in requests! Also I am so sorry that this took me so long to write, I just started college in August and I haven’t had the motivation to write, with love em. I hope this satisfies <3. @kennahargreeves8

Plot:Could you do a Five x reader fanfic where the reader and Five are mean to each other and they like each other. The reader kidnapped by the commission because they distracted Hazel and Cha Cha from kidnapping Klaus and the reader and Five kiss at the end.

Word Count: 4,674 (I went overboard)

He was nothing but a little boy, even in his adult body. You were working at the Commission when someone had brought up the appearance of a boy running around in the wastelands of the post apocalyptic twenty-nineteen. He wasn’t supposed to be there, and yet there he was.

It took the commission a few years to decide to let him become a field worker, like you. You were a good field worker, always got the job done right, worked alone, worked quietly and didn’t ask for too much. You didn’t enjoy it as much as they thought you did, but it paid well and it was guaranteed protection.

He needed to be trained and one day, when you were about to leave your hotel room, The Handler was standing in front of your door with number Five. “No,” you went to close the door, but a polished, red heel stopped you. “He can get trained by someone else.” You begged as you slowly opened up the door.

“I know, Sweetheart,” She reached out her hand to gently pat your face “You are simply, the best!”

You scoffed at her reasoning, stepping to the side to let her and Five enter the small room. “I’m simply the biggest pushover.” You corrected her gently as you sat on the edge of your bed, looking over at Five with a slight frown. He was inhabiting a body that was older than you envisioned. You requested to be put into a body that was in its early teens. It allowed you to stay alerted and awake, it didn't wear you down too much.

It was easy to fool people like this, but it did also attract some unwanted attention sometimes. You could feel your frown turn into a small grin at the memory of a woman asking ‘where your parents were’.

“Five won’t intervene, he will just be shadowing you for the time being,” she pat Five on the shoulder with a perfect smile. “I’ll see you later.” She waved her goodbye and then she was out the door, leaving the two of you alone.

Your partnership with Five was anything but short and sweet, the Handler wanted him to be with you for almost two months just so the commission could see just how good Five really was. He had talent that was sure, but he was too loyal. His loyalty to his family was definitely going to kill him.

He was also incredibly annoying. He wanted to do everything his way. He was always right about everything. Everything.

You wanted to go around the back, Five would blimp in before you could form a plan. His power was a major disadvantage to you, because you were just a normal assassin working for a company that dealt with the fabric of time and space.

He thought he was just so smart, so amazing. He was just so full of himself, it made you want to vomit in your mouth. If you went against any of his ideas then you were suddenly an ant. Nothing more than an ant on the sidewalk, getting yelled at by a grasshopper.

Nonetheless, he was a really talented recruit. He had the makings for a successful assassin but the talent he possessed could also lead to his downfall.

If you were being one hundred percent honest, you liked Five. You liked him because he was a hard worker and loyal friend, if you were giving him the title of friend.

He was nice to talk to and if you had to pick someone in the commission to team up with it would be Five. He was witty, never missed a beat and he let you make fun of how old he looked.

One day, while you were working you saw your friend in the briefcase room, the two of you made eye contact, you flashed him an easy smile and then you turned the corner. You didn't see him return.

Time was fluid here at the commission. It could be six days in one timeline could be an entire year at the commission, people worked fast and within the timeline. When it had been the day for the Kennedy assassination, all hell broke loose.

Normally you didn’t really care for things that caused people to run around in a hurry, yelling out orders from the Handler and panic ensuing, it wasn’t until you heard someone say, “Five’s gone awol” that you stopped in your tracks and let out a shaky breath, knowing that your friend probably wouldn’t be back alive.

No one seemed to care that much about your missing friend, a part of you wanted to ask the Handler what she was going to do to Five when they found him, but she was too stressed to even look your way.

You played with the watch, resting on your wrist, thinking about how many days it has been since you last saw your older friend, how many weeks? It was weird. Your friendship was weird, indeed. You were in such a small and young body and he was not, he had wrinkles. He was gross, you felt a tear slide down your cheek, gently swiping it away before deciding that you need to stop thinking about him before you got even more upset.

Days passed like years and months passed like centuries. No one uttered a word to you, but Five was buzzing in everyone’s mouths. He was messing up the timeline, you shouldn’t be worried, you should be ashamed.

You felt a bitter taste in your mouth as you stood up from your desk, wandering over to the briefcase room, people entering the room and leaving the room and a man at the desk in front of it.

Before you knew it, you were slipping into the briefcase room, grabbing one and vanishing with a flash of blue light as people screamed your name.

You knew where you were, you set the time, and now you were in the front yard of a classic looking building, doors and gates cleverly embroidered with two umbrellas. You swallowed hard and opened the gate.

You couldn’t knock on the door, you just stood there paralyzed, briefcase in hand. It was so stupid, you could run someone through with knife but you couldn’t knock on a stupid door. The only reason you abandoned the doorstep was because you were sure that you could hear someone talking close to the door. You walked with your head down, moving through the narrow streets of the city, narrowly missing people and letting your head fill with anxious thoughts.

The loyal part of you wanted to go straight back to the commission and apologize, hopefully not die and hope that you wouldn’t get fired, but there was a bigger part of you that needed to save your friend. You didn't have many friends so you needed to take care of the one you had, even if it meant leaving the commission.

When everything was taken care of, removing the tracker from your arm, then you set off back towards the academy. Along the way you were trying to summon any remaining courage you had left with every heavy step, blood dripping down from your arm at a sickening slow rate.

Your plan was to hide the briefcase outside of the house, knock on the door, ask for help and get inside. You didn’t want Five to know you were here, if he opened the door you were fine with it but you didn’t want one of his siblings telling him the news without your knowing.

You stashed the briefcase amongst the bushes in the front of the house, almost invisible, and then knocked on the door. The person who opened the door was a beautiful woman, dark skin and ombre hair in tight curls. You sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes filling with false tears “Miss, could you please help me?” you asked, voice cracking ever so slightly as you lifted your sleeve to show her the deep gash in your arm.

Then you were in, sitting at a table getting stitched up by another beautiful woman, dressed in a 60′s like fashion, perfect blond hair and a pleasant smile. She smiled ever so softly as she closed up your wound, ignoring the group that was surrounding you in the kitchen.

There were just three of them, two women, one of them being the women who opened the door and the other looking much more cautious matching the face of one very large man standing behind the two of them. You winced and let out a small sound of pain as you struggled to say your name, telling the story about how you had lost your mother on the streets and how someone attacked you in an alleyway.

The three of them looked anxious as the blond beauty finished fixing your arm and stood up in a cheery manner, leaving as she pondered about a woman's life out loud. They did say his family was strange, you never got any case files on them so they weren’t your concern...well right now they were.

They soon introduced themselves, Luther was the large man, Vanya was the small woman and Allison was the glamorous woman, you shifted in your seat, drying your eyes. “I’m sorry for intruding, I just ran to this house because of the umbrella,” You explained, gently caressing your arm, feigning childlike shyness.

Luther nodded a little as Allison started to speak “They make you feel safe?”

“No, I just like the decoration.” You responded in the best way you thought a child would. You had to use this tiny body for your best interest.

Allison, advocating for you, persuading her siblings to let you stay in her room promising she would actively look for your ‘mother’, mentioning how if her daughter was in your situation she would be dying of worry. To save her, the unnecessary worry you assured her that you had called your mother at a nearby payphone and told her your location, telling her that you were going to go into the umbrella academy before you went in. She seemed skeptical, but somewhat satisfied before leaving you all along.

You knew that you were not a welcomed visitor, nor could you stay very long, you just hoped that Five would be back before you had to fake your leave.

You sat on the bed, playing with your hands, chewing slightly on your lip deep in thought when you heard the familiar sounds of guns going off down the hall. When you opened the door you saw two figures in their masks shooting up a room, backs towards you, Hazel and Cha-Cha. You ran down the hall, passing a man taking a tub taking a bath, oblivious to the events unfolding around him. You ran down the hall into a vacant room, hiding against the wall behind the door.

After a jaw clenching minute, the dripping man came into his room, oblivious to you as you pressed against the wall watching him dance. It was then the attacker came into the room that was when the dripping man was made aware of the situation he was when. Hazel advanced towards the man, your tiny structure giving you the upper hand as you moved in front of him and swiping at his feet. He dropped, grabbing your ankles and pulled you down right after. The last clear thing you saw was the man running out in a towel yelling for his siblings and then the butt of Hazel’s gun coming down on you.

You came to, your eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness of what you assumed to be the truck that surrounded you.

They were idiots. The two of them, they kept asking you where Five was, and claimed that you were one of his siblings. Every time they would ask you would answer with ‘I don’t know’, the question was so repetitive that you wanted nothing more than to scream that you were with the commission. They had yet to notice that you were a desk worker, and ex-assassin, at the commission, they were just simply so amazingly dimwitted.

You hissed as Cha-Cha slid the blade of knife across your cheek, pressing hard enough to definitely leave a scar, warm, crimson blood trickling down your cheek before you let out a soft whimper of annoyance.

“You two are just going to keep asking me the same question over and over again aren’t you?”

“Of course, we know that he would have told his siblings where he was,”

“Not this sibling,”

“Soon they’ll be looking for you and we can get them all at once, you and your freak family will be wiped out of existence.” Cha-Cha hissed as she sat down on a chair directly across from yours. “So where is he? Don’t you care about your siblings?”

“Not necessarily.” You said with a dirty smile, tired eyes burning as you stared at her confused face.

“I’m done!” she said, shoving herself off of the chair and storming over to the bathroom in a fury, leaving you alone, Hazel following her silently.

It had hours since they kidnapped you, assumed you were a sibling of Five’s, and were now torturing you. Waterboarding occurred, it felt nice to have a clean face, a close call with a finger nail removal played out, but for the most part they would just keep beating you till you felt dull. The feeling of nothing spread across your body like an invasive species. It didn’t numb the pain, but it did numb the feelings that came with the pain.

You were tired, alone and desperate for a savior. You tried to gain the attention of the cleaning lady while you were locked and gagged in the hotel closet, but that attempt was futile.

You were strapped to a chair now, once again getting asked the same question over and over again. You were getting sick of this question, probably because you shared the same question as them. Eventually they both resided into the bathroom, you were facing a window with a strip of duct tape over your mouth when you saw the outline of a woman pass by the window. Using this as a lame excuse to try and escape you started to slam your head onto the table, praying to something that you would be heard.

This is when your emotions started to return, you felt terrified, the idea of dying here was terrifying. You were so close to finding him and these dim witted assassins shouldn’t be the final stop. You needed to get out of here. You wanted to live. That’s when the door unlocked and you made eye contact with a woman holding a gun, her eyes instantly locking onto yours.

She spoke but you just nodded as she freed you from your restraints. You shakily got to your feet, but then the bathroom door started to open and the shooting started. You hit the floor and started moving towards a rather large vent, you pulled the metal covering down seeing an all too familiar briefcase as you started to crawl into the vent, pushing the briefcase with you, finally escaping from your tormentors breathlessly.

Now you were running down a street, blood dripping from your arm again, having reopened your wound in the vents, but that didn’t matter, you were free.

You held onto the briefcase as you limped through the night streets, you didn't know where you were and you were hoping you could find a way back to the academy without those idiots following you. You needed to find Five. You sat on a park bench and fixed the briefcase to this date and time and changed the location, and suddenly you were there in a brilliant flash of blue.

When you appeared in front of the academy the first thing you did was destroy the briefcase, you had yours and those irritating little try hards didn’t deserve a way back home. You threw the dismantled briefcase into the street, hoping it would get run over or explode or something, one of the two. You walked up to the clean glass doors, looking into the bushes for your own briefcase only to greeted by the same plain green shrub you were already searching. You cursed softly to yourself and you reached for the doors, throwing any caution to wind.

After what you had just been through, you didn’t care. You were hoping that their ‘mother’ would care for you if she found you first. You really didn’t care what happened, you just needed to see Five. If you were being honest at this point he was your only hope, a friendly face that would hopefully give you food and water. You were hungry.

As you walked into the ,surprisingly, unlocked house no one greeted you, silence was your host. You aimlessly walked upstairs, towards the only area you were familiar: the bedrooms. It was the last place you had been in the house, maybe that man in the towel would be there, maybe he could help you with finding Five. You could hear voices, a conversation, a conversation that hopefully involved something interesting, one where you weren’t going to get beat up at the end of it.

You walked faster down the fall, taking a turn, getting closer and closer till you stood in the doorway of the room of the man you saved from Hazel and Cha-Cha. He was in there but he was talking to a young boy, he looked about your age, talked like he was older.

The man’s eyes landed on you in the doorway and you saw a haunted expression on his face and you knew he must’ve been the one to take your briefcase. Nobody looked calm when coming back for their first time, especially if it wasn't intentional. You were about to say something when the boy spoke up first.

“How did you get in here?” he asked rather alarmed. You sent him a small look of confusion before you remembered that this, in fact, was not your house.

“I... uh, the door was open,” you answered lamely, hoping that this little boy, whoever he was, would let it drop. You pointed at the man you saved, “Why do you have a horrified look on your face and where is my briefcase?” you questioned, stepping into the room, only to be blocked by the boy.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” the boy said, something about the way he said your name was familiar. You took a small step away from him, how did he know your name?

“How do you know my name?” you said retreating to the door, closely watching the two in front of you.

“What do you mean, ‘how do I know your name’, you trained me!” he scoffed at you, letting the realization dawn on you.

“Five,” you beamed, rushing to him “oh you're so tiny! Just like me! I was here looking for you, but then Hazel and Cha-Cha,”

You were cut off by the older man, “She saved me from getting kidnapped from those psychos’ in the masks and then I found the briefcase out front, thought it had money in it, and I went back to Vietnam,” he breathed, sounding plain exhausted as he told his short story. You nodded a little as you watched him fall onto the bed with a groan “Now can you two please lower the volume?” he ended, frowning at you and Five at the center of the room.

You inched closer to bed, reaching up to tap his shoulder ever so gently, his eyes closed as he tried to calm his aching head “What did you do with the briefcase?”

“Destroyed it,”

You let out a small whine before you nodded, turning around on your heel and leaving the room, let out a tiny yell in the hallway before you turned around seeing Five staring at you with a small grin on his face.

Five had left the academy in a flash, only to return seconds later, you watched him as you were left sit in his room as he began to frantically mutter equations to himself, writing out his process on the walls around the two of you. You stood up, staring at his work on the walls with a small frown “What exactly is your plan?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at Five, seeing him pause his frenzy.

“You aren’t involved in the plan,”

“Five, don’t be ridiculous! I’m here, I’m your ally, let me help you.” You pleaded calmly, walking over to him with a little smile. He looked better now, age wasn’t really a concept at the commission. Technically you were in your forties but you looked about fifteen or fourteen, and now Five looked the same. You thought it was funny that he used to wear clothes like this everyday.

“You aren’t even supposed to be here, besides I need someone here at the academy to make sure something doesn't go wrong. You got promoted to a caseworker, so you know how important this must be.”

Your smile dropped, but you nodded in agreement, knowing that he had a plan and you had to stick to it if you wanted this to pan out well.

So now you were waiting at his house, he said he was going to go and meet Hazel and Cha-Cha, with a fake briefcase. You could tell he wasn’t telling you the whole truth, it was the way he scrunched up his nose, that's how you knew he was lying.

You never felt so helpless, you didn’t know how to stop the apocalypse and you didn’t know if you would be any help in stopping the apocalypse. So now you laid on Five’s bed, it didn’t smell like Five. Five smelt like pine and a tiny hint of sandalwood. You smiled a little as you turned to lay on your side, letting exhaustion catch up to you as you fell into a deep sleep.

You were pissed, it had been a day since Five disappeared, leaving you to watch over his chaotic family. They always had so much drama, and they did not trust you. You understood them not trusting you, but come on really, stop with the dramatics. You sat on a bar stool, listening to the siblings bicker among themselves for what felt like a second time when Five dropped out of the sky, slamming onto the island.

His siblings clamored around him, asking him questions, but he stood up, stole Allison’s coffee, downed it and then lectured his siblings. He then explained that they needed to stop Harold Jenkins. You tuned out the rest of the conversation, eyeing Five carefully, something about him wasn’t right. He kept ranting on and on with his siblings continuously bombarding him questions, and yet all you could do was stare at him.

The little brat wasn’t even acknowledging you, he was so... infuriating. You moved to follow Five out of the room, wanting to help, even if he didn’t want to. So now you were in the backseat with Allison, while the Five and Diego bickered in the front seats. When Diego left, the three of you stood outside the alleyway, and you and Five watched Allison make a call to Vanya.

You looked over at him, a frown still etched on your face as you stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole plan?”

“You didn’t need to know the whole plan, you need to stay put and stay safe.”

“You don’t know what I need,” you gently kicked his shoes with yours, your voice cracking slightly “,what if you died? What would I do then? My goal isn’t to save your family’s life, it’s to save yours. Tell me what I would’ve done, Five.”

Five stared at you after that, looking a little shocked. You understand why until he reached up towards your face and brushed the falling tear off of your cheek before he let out the smallest “I’m sorry” you had ever heard in your life.

When the four of you arrived at Harold’s house you had a small lump in your throat accompanied by a feeling that something bad was about to happen. Then when Allison called us up your eyes followed his every move, the way he gripped his stomach and swayed, and before you knew it he dropped straight to the floor without any warning.

Your eyes were glued to the bed, it was better than looking at Five, every time you spared a glance at his unconscious body you felt your cheeks get hot and your eyes fill with tears. You hated feeling so useless, why was he making you feel so useless? It was cruel, the cruelest thing he has ever done to you. You cared for him so deeply and it was cruel of him to ignore that.

When the sheets of the bed shifted, you lifted your eyes to look at Five, seeing that he was indeed awake. He made a move to get up, only to be greeted with your hand pushing him back down onto the bed. “You’re an idiot if you think that I am gonna let you get up from this bed.”

“I have to get up,”

You cut him off by lightly pressing on his stomach wound, “You don’t have to do anything with that wound,” you sat down again feeling Five relax under your hand. You let out a small sigh, puffing out your cheeks as Five and you stared at each other. “You’re insufferable, Five. I have never met another person or thing more insufferable than you. You need an award.”

“You aren’t really that great either.”

“Keep your mouth shut Hargreeves,” you ran a hand through your hair with another sigh “I came here to help you, I left my job, sucky as it was, I left it to help you, because why? Because I didn’t want to see you get killed when you came back or hear that you were horribly terminated by those idiots that tortured me. I know you aren’t the kindest person, but I shouldn’t feel like this...” You stuttered gently looking for the word, you didn’t know how you were feeling. You were mad but something struck you deeper, maybe it was fear or concern, maybe it was disdain? Something stronger than what you were used to.

You felt fingers ghost over yours, you looked up from your hand staring down at Five as he sat there as he silently, played with your fingers. “I shouldn’t feel so helpless, I feel like I shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t have left the commission, especially when you don’t want me here.”

“Who said I didn’t want you here?”

“You did,”

“I said that you shouldn’t be here, not that I didn’t want you here. I want you to be here.” Five muttered in a sweet tone as he cautiously held your hand.

“Don’t say things to make me feel better, it’s horrible to do that to a girl,” you slowly moved your hand away before Five caught your wrist, stopping you from moving away further. “What are you doing, Hargreeves?”

“Something that I should have done when I saw you in Klaus’s room two days ago,” he said, sitting up and leaning closer, and without realizing it you were leaning closer as well.

“I need you to come out of this alive, Hargreeves.” you said in a tiny voice, different from your usual bold volume, sounding oddly vulnerable.

“I will,” Five then pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, pulling away quickly “and so will you.”

You smiled a little and let out a tiny laugh “Okay.” you whispered as you leaned in once again to kiss him on the lips.

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01408 - 01424: Torrent Company

The most important thing Kix had learned during his time as a medic was to work with steadfast efficiency as quickly as possible. It had helped him gain distinction on the battlefield and save the lives of countless brothers. It was also a great asset when it came to paperwork.

As soon as Kix noticed that the stack of forms he had yet to fill out was shrinking, he worked faster and with more dedication. His left ear itched and his hand began to cramp, but all discomforts were pushed aside for sake of the shining prospect of having no paperwork left to complete. It had been several months since he had seen the surface of his desk...

The idea of being caught up was the same reason that he didn't look up when he heard the footsteps approaching the medbay, not even when he realized that there were far too many of them. It wasn't until the groaning came within earshot that the medic set aside his second-to-last form with a heavy sigh.

Though he didn't exactly hurry, Kix beat the footsteps to the medbay door by a large margin. Impatiently, he threw the doors open and glared at the approaching men - all twenty or so of them.

Shocked into silence, Kix stood back and held one of the doors open to allow his brothers to pass. The grand majority of Torrent Company was trudging inside the medbay, some looking more severely beaten than the others, but all seemed to be injured in some form or another. His first wild thought was that the Resolute had been attacked and he had missed it, but the injuries were wrong. Just from a cursory observation, Kix saw forming bruises, blackened eyes, and split lips. Not an attack and not an explosion. Apparently, he would just have to ask them himself.

When the last man had finally passed into the medbay in shuffling silence, Kix turned to stare at all of them. The question finally burst out of his mouth: "What the kriff happened?"

"Bolo-ball," Rex said darkly, trying to stem the blood seeping from his nose.

"Bolo- Bolo-ball?" Kix asked, making his disbelief plain. "You shabuir did this playing karking bolo-ball?"

There was no answer to that - at least, not aloud. Kix had his answer in the way the men avoided making eye contact with him. He sighed, shaking his head. "I can't do anything about self-inflicted injuries, you all know that."

Sizz glanced up at him carefully, "Technically speaking, Kix, these aren't self-inflicted injuries. None of us did this to ourselves, just to each other."

"That's splitting a Wookiee hair into eight strands, trooper," Kix told him sharply, but the man had a point. Besides, these idiots had somehow managed to do quite a bit of damage. If he sent them out of the medbay without any help, who knew what could happen? He was willing to bet that there was more than one fractured bone and concussions were a strong possibility.

Kix retrieved his scanner and began scanning troopers, mentally recording which injuries required them to stay in the medbay and which men could be patched up and sent back out. "Just wait until the Commander and General hear about this," he muttered.

"The Commander knows," Tup said. "She left after Bet broke his arm."

Kix snorted. "And the General? You're telling me he knew about all of this?"

"He was the referee," Jesse said with a smirk.

"Of course he was." Kix shook his head again. If there was going to be trouble of any kind, General Skywalker had a habit of either making it or being right in the middle of the fray. "You're an ARC. You know better than this."

Jesse shrugged. "Tell Fives that."

Kix sighed again and kept working. Eventually, he managed to send most of the troopers out of the medbay with only bacta tape and pain meds for their minor injuries. To everyone’s shock, Hardcase was one of the troopers who didn't have to stay, though he left with the air of someone who expected to be called back at any moment. The number of troopers who needed more intense treatment was lower, but there were still more than a few who had to stay.

Time passed quickly as the medic worked on concussions, dislocations, broken bones, and major lacerations. In the end, only five troopers had to stay for observation: Ronto, Tup, Fledge, Bet, and Jesse. All of them had managed to be injured worse than their brothers, and needed to be kept under surveillance - if only to make sure they didn't injure themselves further.

Bet - in a bed for his broken arm and extensive bruising of his ribs - shifted uncomfortably. Kix recognized the motions for the guilty conscience indicator that they were and moved silently to the trooper's bedside. Bet glanced up at him once before running a hand over his own stripe-shaven head. "Sorry, Kix."

The other troopers repeated Bet's soft apology and Kix shook his head. "Just heal up quickly, men. We can't afford for so many of you to be out of commission for long."

The younger troopers - Bet, Fledge, and Ronto - took Kix's request to heart, settling back against the thin, medbay-issued pillows and dropping off to sleep in short order. Tup and Jesse stayed awake, softly chatting back and forth about the game.

Kix finished his tasks and circled back to stand between Tup and Jesse's beds. Tup had already kicked his rough medbay blankets away and Jesse had stolen pillows from all of the unoccupied beds to make a thick cushion behind his shoulders and back. After Jesse described a particularly brutal-sounding tackle that sent Tup into shoulder-shaking laughter, Kix frowned and folded his arms over his chest.

"Problem, Kix?" Jesse asked cheekily.

"Why am I never invited to any of these matches?" Well, that certainly wasn't the blistering condemnation of the 501st's collective intelligence that he had meant to give, but the question had come out of Kix's mouth anyway.

Jesse grinned and asked patronizingly, "What would you have done if you were there and saw Bet's arm get broken?"

Kix thought about it for a moment. "I would have stopped the match and taken him for treatment."

"There you go, then," Jesse replied, settling back against his nest of stolen pillows, clearly satisfied by Kix's answer. On Kix's other side, Tup gave a small shrug accompanied by a nod.

The stab of hurt in Kix's chest was a surprise. Not a stab, really. More like a pang. A pinch. Indigestion, probably. What did he care if he was known as a buzzkill? Kix's main goal on the Resolute was to make sure his brothers were healthy, not to be their favorite person.

"Hey, don't get upset, vod," Jesse said, seeming to be under the illusion that he had hurt Kix's feelings. "All of us know you're here if we need anything. We know we can count on you to keep us safe. You're still one of us, you know."

Despite the warmth that spread through his chest at the assurance - karking indigestion - Kix rolled his eyes. "Lucky me," he deadpanned.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can come to the sabaac tournament tomorrow night," Tup offered, waggling his eyebrows. It must have hurt with the newly placed stitches winding up his forehead, but he made it look effortless.

Kix considered it for a long moment. "At least that doesn't sound so violent��"

Jesse gave a laughing sort of grimace. "Well…"

"What?" Kix asked flatly.

"It can be a little violent," Tup sheepishly admitted from the other bed.

Kix stared at him. "Sabaac? The card game?"

"Well, we bet!" Jesse said defensively. "We usually end up throwing a few punches by the end of the night. Mostly just to settle the bets, though."

"You idiots are going to fight with so many of you injured?" Kix burst out, horrified but not shocked. "Forget it, I'm coming along, if just to make sure no one kills anyone."

"Great!" Tup cheered as Jesse grinned widely. Kix fought a smile of his own as he mentally noted that he should bring some bacta tape and pain meds.

The urge to smile soon melted away and Kix sighed, thinking of all the additional forms he had to fill out - one for each man who had required medical treatment. "Rest up, men. You'll need your strength for this game tomorrow night."

"Yeah, especially since Hardcase cheats," Jesse muttered. When Kix shot him a glare, he only smiled wider and snuggled into the pile of pillows. Giving it up as a lost cause, Kix went back to his desk and pulled out a fresh stack of flimsi, mentally saying goodbye to the sight of his desk as he did so.

---

A/N - sorry for the Umbara gif! It was the only one I could find of the 501st that didn’t feature a Jedi.

#Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper kix #medic kix #kix #captain rex #tup #clone trooper jesse #jesse #clone trooper tup #writing #fic #please reblog #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

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phasmwrites · 4 years

Text

safe with me || bakugou katsuki

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader Warnings: Body Injuries, Mild Violence, Angst Word Count: 1841 Prompt: “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” A/N: This was a prompt request from a lovely anon! I hope u like it friend💖 I added a word into the sentence prompt I hope that’s okay 👉👈 I promise this is also fluffy!!

When you become a pro-hero, it means that you accept and understand the risks that come with the profession; you must be fully aware of the chances of getting severely injured on the job, or even worse.

“Ground Zero!” Bakugou’s current sidekick shouted as he sprinted through the debris over to the hero, desperately trying to catch his breath, “It’s Y/H/N!”

You and your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, knew what you were both getting into when you decided to become heroes. It was through this profession that the two of you met one another in the first place.

“What about her?” Bakugou’s own breaths were labored as he restrained the villain below him, digging his boot further into the criminal’s back to keep them docile.

Years upon years of intense training would never prepare Bakugou for the emotional turmoil his sidekick was about to throw in his direction.

“She’s- she’s…” The young hero mumbled, cowering at the harsh glare directed at him.

Bakugou narrowed his eyebrows further and gritted his teeth, “Spit it out!”

“She’s been taken to the nearest hospital-”

The moment the word hospital was uttered from his sidekick’s lips, Bakugou’s face visibly dropped along with his palpitating heart.

“Keep this fucker on the ground until the cops come. Are there anymore villains not restrained?” Bakugou waited for the young man to shake his head, “Good, if anyone asks where I went tell them to fuck off.”

It was on this day that the heroes reigned triumph once more in the fight against the villains, but Bakugou no longer cared about basking in his glory. His primary concern was finding out why he was receiving sympathetic glances from the nurses when he rushed through the hospital doors.

During your battle with one of the villains, you had noticed a small family huddled up hopelessly clinging to one another as the front of their apartment had been entirely decimated. You did the one thing Bakugou had always admired about you, which was rushing towards the family and aiding them in their evacuation.

Though you abandoned the fight for your sidekick to handle in your place, you failed to notice that they had fallen unconscious. It was then that you were promptly tossed into the nearest building by the mutation quirk-handling villain. The last thing you could remember was the agonizing pain your body suffered from the impact before you passed out, too.

Once Bakugou reached the door that held you inside, the doctors informed your husband that you suffered severe injuries to both of your legs along with shattered ribs and collarbone. It would take extraneous amounts of physical therapy and rest for your legs to properly heal from the emergency surgery, putting you out of commission for anything hero-related indefinitely.

The sobs that wracked through your aching chest were sounds Bakugou wished he could burn from his memory. Although the moonlight casted beautifully into your hospital bedroom on most nights, it did nothing but expose your tear-stricken complexion and bloodshot eyes to the ash-blonde who spent every night by your side.

After many weeks isolated in a hospital room, you had finally received approval from the doctor to finish your recovery in the comfort of your own home. Your husband was more than thrilled to bring you home; he hoped that a new environment would aid in your healing.

“Welcome home, baby.” Bakugou murmured as he held you close to his chest, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple. The wheelchair he had ordered for you hadn’t arrived on time, but he was more than content carrying you wherever you asked of him.

The first thing you noticed when the two of you entered your home was how pristine it was, “You cleaned up.”

“Yeah...” Bakugou shrugged, “The place was an absolute shithole and I’ve had some free time when I’m not at the hospital with you.”

When his agency got word of your incident, they insisted he step away from hero duties for a short while until you got back on your own two feet. It infuriated the hot-headed blonde at first, but he also refused to abandon you when you needed him the most.

“What do you want to do?” He asked while setting his car keys on the nearest table.

You took a moment to contemplate, “Can you draw me a bath? I still feel gross from the hospital...”

So he did just that as he stepped into the bathroom, setting you down on the counter and allowing your legs to dangle over the edge. Bakugou took his time in unraveling your bandages, remembering the strict instructions he was given from the “annoying” nurses.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was so hushed he nearly missed it, “Do you think my legs are ugly?”

He wanted to laugh aloud at the absurdity of your question, but harshly bit his tongue to keep you from getting the wrong impression. Sure, your legs were swollen with excess water retention and now scarred from surgery, but he didn’t find you any less beautiful than you were before.

“How the hell can legs be ugly? They’re beautiful, just like you.” The last of the bandages collapsed into a puddle below you as he returned to the tub to make sure it wasn’t too hot for you. You watched as he stepped back over to you and aided you in removing the rest of your clothing, gathering you in his arms to slowly set you into the large white tub.

The warm water instantly relaxed your muscles, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss, “Thank you, Katsuki.”

“Tch, it’s not a big deal.” He brushed your gratitude off, “I’m going to start on dinner, yell for me if you need me.” Before he truly left you to your own devices he pressed his lips to your forehead again and made sure you could reach anything you needed.

While preparing your favorite meal, Bakugou hoped that returning home would help bring back the normalcy you desired from your time in the hospital. He himself desperately craved to see the sparkle in your eyes that had undoubtedly vanished since the incident.

He had gotten so swept up in his thoughts and finishing his cooking that he didn’t originally hear you crying from the bathroom. When your sobs finally reached his ears though, the large spoon he had been using clattered to the ground and his legs rushed him over to your aid.

“Hey, what the hell happened-” Bakugou slammed the ajar door fully open, his own heart crumbling at the sight of you so distraught.

Tears streamed down your cheekbones, mixing into the soapy bathwater. Your bottom lip trembled at the sight of your husband until your sobbing transitioned into broken wails of anguish. Collapsing onto his knees next to the tub, Bakugou ignored the dull ache from the impact and gathered your face into his large palms.

“Y/N, it’s okay, come on, I got you baby…” His voice was the softest you had ever heard in your entire life, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze met yours, “Come on, tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Your cries slowly silenced, dulling into small hiccups as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou waited patiently for you, using one hand to caress your tear-stained cheek and the other to rub comforting circles into your shoulder.

“S-Sometimes…” You stammered, trying to collect your abundance of thoughts into words, “Sometimes my mind...it brings me back to being tossed into the building and I just feel all of that pain again and- and holy shit it hurts so bad…”

If you had continued to maintain contact with Bakugou rather than stare into the tub, you would have noticed the tears that silently rolled down his own complexion. Being empathetic wasn’t something Bakugou was known for, but seeing the woman he loved with his entire being so broken and traumatized...it was almost too much for him.

Following a brief silence, Bakugou stood back up as you watched him wipe his eyes and begin to disrobe his tank top and sweatpants. Once bare he gently nudged you forward so that he could slip his large figure behind you. He curled his muscular arms around your middle, your back now comfortably pressed into his chest.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again, you’re safe with me.” Reaching for your hand, he began to toy with the wedding band on your ring finger as a silent reminder of his vows to you only six months ago.

You brought your now intertwined fingers up to your chest, holding his hand close to your heart, “The doctor’s warned me that I may not be able to return to being a hero...I don’t even know if I could…”

“Listen, you can do whatever you want, baby.” Bakugou took his hands back, but only to begin massaging shampoo into your damp scalp, “I’ll support the fuck out of you no matter what choice you make.”

“B-But being the top heroes was our dream…” Your bottom lip trapped itself between your teeth, feeling as if you failed both yourself and your partner.

You were slightly surprised to hear Bakugou scoff, “You want to know my other dream? Starting a family with the love of my goddamn life.”

“Katsuki-”

“I know I’m awful at romance, alright?” You went to protest but he interrupted you for a second time, “I know the kind of person I am, but I also know that somehow you still chose to marry me and support me. If you’re no longer a hero, that doesn’t change how I feel about you because I also made that decision to support you...until death do us part or however the fuck the saying goes.”

He began to rinse out of the suds in your hair when you leaned further into his chest, “You mentioned starting a family…”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a little mini-me causing a bit of chaos in our life one day.” You could sense that he was smirking at the concept, one of his large hands pressing against your stomach as if he were imagining it already.

It was uncomfortable, but you tilted yourself back far enough so that you could look into Bakugou’s vermilion eyes, watching the way his gaze softened when they met yours.

What was meant to be a tender moment between the two of you was promptly ended by your next words, “You’re pretty soft, Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I’m not soft! Shitty fucking woman.” He sunk further into the tub behind you, sulking childishly as your laughter rang out through the room. Even if your giggles were a direct result of teasing him, he’d let you do it forever just to keep that vibrant smile from never leaving your lips again.

It would be a rough while for you to fully heal from both the mental and physical trauma you endured, but you knew that you could take on anything as long as you had Bakugou by your side.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #phasm.writings

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xbladekitkat85 · 3 years

Text

Do You Remember Now?

Summary: It's Peter's birthday and everyone is planning on a surprise when he wakes up. Except there's a huge problem. Peter's gone missing.

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, swearing, ANGST, mentions of dealing with grief.

A/N: I haven't really written angst before so I don't know how hard it's going to hit. I did tear up at one part while typing so maybe it's a bit heavy???

Peter's disappearance happened when everyone least expected it. It was the morning of his birthday, and all the heroes of the universe were going to be there. It would have been the first reunion in over 5 years where everyone was available to come, Asgardians and Guardians as well. Everyone was going to sneak into Peter's room to wake him up with a collective shout of "SURPRISE!" and pop an unnecessary amount of party poppers all over the room.

Tony peeked inside first to make sure that Peter was still asleep before beckoning everyone inside. But he felt a cold draft flowing from the crack between the door and the doorframe that shouldn't have been possible due to the picture windows.

He entered the room to find the window cut open and various items belonging to Peter scattered on the floor. There was no sign of Peter himself and the excited feeling that Tony had all morning quickly twisted into something he had felt only when Pepper had been taken years ago by Killian.

It was the feeling of debilitating fear.

Tony felt a wave of nausea hit him as various scenarios all ran through his head, each with Peter hurt, scared, or possibly even dead.

Pepper was the first to notice Tony hadn't come to get everyone. He came out of Peter's room after a few minutes more of waiting. But he wasn't acting like the excited father he was only moments before.

"Tony, what's wrong?" She asked, feeling anxiety building up with each second of silence.

Tony turned to look at everyone with a haunted look in his eyes. Pepper recognized it as the same expression he had when he had returned from space after fighting Thanos. Something was horribly wrong, and it had to do with Peter.

"Tony, talk to me. What's happening." Pepper asked gently despite the worry she felt.

"Peter's not there." He whispered hoarsely and turned to look at her. "Pep, we can't lose him again."

Morgan, Carter and Harley had heard what Tony said and they all felt a sharp stab of fear and worry. Morgan felt tears burning in her eyes, and buried her face in Carter's shoulder for a moment to compose herself. Carter held her close and stroked her hair while Harley walked into Peter's room to see it for himself.

Harley looked around the entire space. He checked the closet, the hammock near the ceiling, and the bathroom adjacent to Peter's room to no avail.

"FRIDAY, show me the tower's security activity from 11pm last night up until dad opened Peter's door." Harley requested.

But to everyone's shock, there was no familiar response of, "Sure thing boss." from the speakers throughout the tower.

FRIDAY was out of commission. That meant that somebody had been able to shut down an AI made by Tony Stark, which is no easy feat. This meant someone skilled was behind it and most likely planned the kidnapping with extreme scrutiny.

Nothing about the situation was remotely close to how everyone thought this day was going to go.

"We need to get Friday back online ASAP." Morgan shakily said. "If we are able to access the security cameras, there's a chance we might be able to find a clue."

Carter glanced at Morgan and saw the pain and worry in her eyes, and gently took her hand and squeezed it to reassure her. She squeezed it back to acknowledge his presence.

"Morgan, Harley, and Carter, come with me to my lab. Nat, you reach out to any contacts who may know something. Carol, this is a long shot, but I want you to ask off world allies if they have any clues as well." Tony ordered. "Everyone else start looking around the tower for clues of any sort. If you see anything remotely suspicious, make a note of it."

*Time skip*

Nobody had been able to find a trace of a clue regarding Peter's whereabouts.

Not any of Tony's extensive connections had an idea. Natasha's contacts hadn't heard any chatter about a kidnapping or hostage. Carol came up empty from every person she had asked but that wasn't unexpected.

Morgan had been back to school and Carter was supportive whenever she needed reassurance. But after a month of no news, or leads, she was starting to lose the little hope she had left. Peter would promise her before every mission, that he would come home safe and sound. But this time he hadn't come home. She didn't even know where he had gone.

Harley became fixated on building tracking devices, scanners, homing beacons, anything that could help find his brother. Harley had promised to always help Peter if he was in a pinch, regardless of how annoying he could be sometimes.

Tony had shut himself in his lab to fix FRIDAY and go through everything he could think of that could offer some sort of sign, a clue, a word, literally anything to bring Peter back home. He had invented time travel to bring him back so why couldn't he do something as simple as finding a clue? Peter would probably point out an error in his work that would solve his problem but now that wasn't possible.

Pepper busied herself by concentrating on running Stark Industries. Whenever she got the chance, she would drag Tony and Harley out of their labs to eat meals with her. God knows those two would forget to eat if nobody reminded them that food and water was an essential part of living. Peter would usually take care of that but since his disappearance, she took up the job.

Everyone felt a piece of their family was missing. But nobody said his name out loud, even though everyone thought about him.

It just hurt too much to hear his name knowing that by now he was likely dead. That he was never coming home.

And time would continue to pass, as the pain of losing Peter would too.

Until one day, on a mission, everything changed.

*6 months after Peter's disappearance*

HYDRA had suddenly resurfaced with no warnings whatsoever.

They had set off Tony's alert system designed to warn of threats, and a group immediately suited up. Having HYDRA stirring up trouble was never a good sign, especially since they were supposed to be gone. But as the saying goes, "Cut one head off, two more take it's place."

The team that had gone to check out the threat consisted of the original 6 Avengers as well as Harley, Bucky, Kate, and Wanda. Upon arriving at the location that had set off the alarm, they noticed that another group of people were there as well. One person among them in particular stood out to the OG Avengers. Before anyone could make a move, all the Avengers were suddenly knocked down, and tied up so they couldn't move.

"Hey, I found these guys lurking around. Who are they?" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"Yo-Yo, you can let them go. We're friends. Well, at least most of us are, those three I haven't met. It's alright."

All the OG 6 Avengers felt a cold shock run through their bodies. That voice belonged to someone they thought was dead since the Battle of New York.

"Agent Coulson?" Tony asked in shock.

"It's former Director actually and yes, I'm alive." Coulson replied, as everyone was untied by Yo-Yo.

"There's no way." Natasha said as she stood up. "Fury would have said something sooner. And when were you Director of SHIELD?"

"I'm sorry, Nat, but he meant to keep it a secret from all of you. Me being resurrected." Coulson said with regret in his voice. "Said that if you knew, it would have distracted you from your goal."

"Steve, who is this guy?" Bucky asked in confusion.

Coulson's eyes widened in a very comical way when he noticed who had just spoken.

"Sergeant Barnes. It's an honor to meet you." He said, holding out a hand to shake.

Bucky took Coulson's hand to shake and noticed that his hand was not a real hand.

"Your hand... It's mechanical isn't it?" Bucky asked curiously.

"How much has happened with you since we last saw each other?" Steve asked.

"A lot. And we'll talk about it later after we take care of this HYDRA base. I assume that's why you're all here." Coulson said, gesturing to the other group.

"Yes, well, let's introduce the new members of our teams and then make a plan." Steve said.

Coulson informed his team of the change of plans. Everyone on Coulson's team met up for introductions.

"Daisy Johnson, aka Quake. She has the ability to manipulate natural vibrations as well as generate concussive blasts of vibrating air. Elena "Yo-Yo" Rodriguez. She is able to travel at superhuman speeds within the timeframe of a beat of her heart before she bounces back. Hence the nickname, Yo-Yo. Melinda May, expert martial artist, pilot and empath. Mack, Deke, and FitzSimmons are on the Bus right now. You'll meet them later."

Everyone on Tony's side acknowledged their names and took note of their abilities and powers.

"Ok, for the new faces on our side, we have Barnes, the Winter Soldier, who you already know, Wanda, she's got telekinesis and can read minds, Kate, she's Clint's protege, slash eventual replacement and Harley, my oldest kid, who built his own suit." Tony said, introducing the group.

Daisy leaned over to Yo-Yo.

"Tony Stark has kids?" She whispered.

"How the hell would I know?" She responded. "I'm not the former groupie member here."

Daisy glared half heartedly at her.

"I said it was one time!"

"Not my fault you got drunk and told me that story." She shot back.

"Hey, focus we're not here to argue." May interrupted. "We have a mission."

Everyone quickly formed a plan and they all entered the base.

Yo-Yo ran through the halls to assess the amount of security as well as any potentially dangerous weapons. When she was done, she gave the report to Coulson and Tony so they could split their team accordingly.

"May, Harley, Kate, Captain Rogers, Wanda, and I will be one group. Daisy, Yo-Yo, Nat, Clint, Sergeant Barnes, and Tony will be the other. " Coulson explained. "Dr. Banner will be here on comms just in case. I've synced the signal our comms travel on so we're on the same channel. We're going to be split up, so only call for help if necessary. We have about equal amounts of power on each side, so take advantage of every opportunity if need be. Let's go."

Everyone nodded and headed off with their respective groups to raid the base.

(A/N Tony's team will be written in bold and Coulson's team in regular text to avoid unnecessary writing)

Wanda lead the group through the hallways, with May taking out the first few guards easily. Coulson shot ICER bullets at the ones May couldn't focus on while Harley made sure every guard was unconscious. Cap and Kate ran ahead to scout out the next few corridors and the rest of the group quickly followed.

Daisy knocked down the first wave of guards and Yo-Yo tied all of them up while Nat, Clint, Tony and Bucky advanced deeper into the building. A group of guards wielding batons and handguns immediately appeared in their path, blocking the way. Clint shot arrows into the walls that released smoke to obscure the soldiers vision and aim. Tony took advantage of their disorientated state and used heat signature seeking taser blasts to knock them out.

Cap almost got a punch to the face while he rounded a corner but he leaned to the side, barley avoiding it. Kate quickly rushed in and used the man's momentum to flip him over her shoulder into the wall while Cap recovered and punched another soldier trying to attack Kate from behind.

"Thanks." She said, a bit out of breath.

"No problem. Incoming from both sides, get ready." He replied, standing nearly back to back with Kate.

"You got it, Cap." She said, readying her bow.

He threw his shield at the closest guard while Kate shot multiple electric arrows at the hallway in front of her, effectively creating a bolt of electricity that hit multiple targets. They quickly rotated in sync and they repeated the same attacks as before, with Cap taking out the last of the soldiers in his way and Kate knocking out hers.

Tony watched Yo-Yo as she sped forward to scout the next hallway. He couldn't help but think of Pietro Maximoff, and how similar their powers seemed to be. Of course, Yo-Yo bounced back while Pietro didn't. He just kept going forward and never looked back.

Before he could even blink she had returned to the group.

"There's about a dozen guards outside a set of reinforced double doors." She said. "They're guarding something important."

"That's why we're here though. HYDRA has some weapon or something they plan on using, right?" Daisy asked. "Why else would they have resurfaced?"

"It's never a good sign when there's that much security outside an already pretty secure door." Clint added.

"They couldn't have possibly made anything more dangerous than supersoldiers." Bucky muttered.

"I wouldn't put it past HYDRA to find a way to do it." Nat said. "We got to make a plan. We can't just charge in."

Coulson's group had reached the end of the last hallway on their side. There wasn't anything at all to take as evidence or to destroy.

"It can't just be a dead end." Coulson said in disbelief. "There's gotta be a secret door or something at least."

Harley snorted at his complaint.

"I mean that's would I would have done." Kate said thoughtfully. "There wasn't anything of importance on our side of the base. So it makes sense that there's something we're missing."

Cap walked forward and proceeded to rap his knuckles on the wall.

"Whatcha doing there Cap?" Harley joked. "Hoping the secret door will open if you politely knock?"

Cap had moved to the left wall and knocked on it as well.

"He's checking to see if any of the walls sound more hollow than the others." May interjected. "It's a smart idea. It could reveal a hidden room or passage that isn't visible to the naked eye."

Wanda turned to Harley with a raised brow.

"Hey, can't you scan through walls with your suit? That would make this go a lot faster." She asked sarcastically.

Harley froze and everyone turned to look at him.

"Yeah, that would have made this a lot easier." Coulson said wryly.

"I'll get on it." Harley said sheepishly.

He scanned all the walls around them and eventually started walking in another direction.

"This way. There's a room further this way that I can't see through with the scanner. It seems to be lined with lead, which means x-ray scanners won't do the job. Whatever we need to find must be there." He said.

Everyone quickly followed Harley's lead as he walked down the halls, eventually leading them to where the other group had gathered in front of heavy looking doors. The soldiers that had presumably been standing guard were incapacitated on the floor.

(End of bold/regular text switches)

The entire group was preparing to enter the room they stood in front of. Whatever HYDRA had been working on had to be here. Nowhere else in the building had anything significant and this was the final stop.

The door had a keypad that required a passcode as well as a biometric scan. Of course, they could try using the guards to try to pass the retinal scan but there wasn't any guarantee they had access. Of course, they had to deal with the code as well. Maybe physical force would work.

Tony scanned the door's material and found that it was capable of taking the strongest hit from his and Harley's suit combined.

"All right, does anyone else have any brilliant ideas on how to enter this room?" He asked "I don't have enough firepower for this door."

Coulson turned to Daisy and nodded his head.

"Do your thing." He said.

She rolled her eyes and approached the keypad to the door and forced the device to open, revealing circuit boards and wires.

"What is she doing?" Harley asked in confusion. "I thought she could blast through stuff?"

Daisy took out a small tablet and hooked it to the keypad, quickly typing out code and breaking through the security.

"You're lucky I still carry a tablet, Coulson. We would have been in trouble otherwise."

Tony was impressed and slightly scared of how fast she broke through HYDRA's mainframe of security. He made a mental note to update his security system as well as FRIDAY's firewalls.

After a couple minutes of rapid typing, the door opened with a hiss of cold air.

"Remind me to change all my passwords on my social media." Harley said to his suit's AI.

"All right, lets see what HYDRA has been working on." Coulson announced. "Prepare yourselves for anything."

They walked into the room and immediately, everyone noticed the change of temperature compared to the rest of the base.

FRIDAY informed Tony that it was 10 degrees in the room and understandably, everyone was shivering.

Tony walked a bit further and then stopped suddenly. He felt his blood run colder than the room itself.

Coulson had said to be prepared for anything but he clearly didn't have this in mind of the things he needed to steel himself for.

"Oh my god." Kate whispered. "Is it?"

"Peter?" Harley asked in disbelief.

Tony's son was in the corner of the room, curled up in the fetal position, and unresponsive to the world around him.

"FRIDAY, scan for any vital signs." Tony asked desperately.

"He's got a pulse, but I believe he may be in a comatose state. He is also dehydrated and malnourished."

Coulson's team didn't know who this Peter was, but they knew based on everyone else's reaction that he was someone who had been missing for a long time.

"FitzSimmons, do you read me?" Coulson said into his earpiece.

"Yes sir, what's wrong?" Jemma's voice replied.

"We need you to set up the medbay immediately. Get an IV drip sufficient for dehydration as well as malnutrition." Coulson ordered. "We also need heat lamps, if you got any."

"Right away sir." She replied.

Steve picked Peter up and everyone followed him out of the base, back to safety.

*Time skip to returning to New York*

Morgan had been in the middle of a meeting for student council when her watch buzzed. Although it wasn't unusual for that to happen, this time it was buzzing in a pattern that meant there was an emergency that she could not ignore.

"May I be excused to go to the bathroom?" She asked the teacher, who nodded her approval.

She grabbed the hall pass and made her way to the bathroom and checked to see what the message was.

The message was from Harley and what he had sent broken down the walls of composure she had been building for 6 months.

Morgan, we found Peter. We're almost back to the tower and mom's picking you and Carter up. We'll tell you more when you get here.

She sank to the floor and started to sob.

How was this possible?

Where had he been?

How was he alive?

Was he still alive?

More and more questions ran through her head and she finally calmed down enough to exit the bathroom without looking like she had just had a breakdown. When she walked back into the classroom she was handed a summons to leave early.

She arrived at the attendance office and Carter was already there, waiting for her with Pepper by his side.

They all hugged for a good long while and they all cried a bit before Happy started to drive to the tower to meet up with everyone.

"Mom? Is he alive?" Morgan asked hoarsely.

She was silent for a bit before replying.

"He's alive but he's in a coma of sorts."

"Do we know why?" Carter asked.

"Dad said it was extensive exposure to frigid temperatures and that the spider DNA caused him to hibernate because of it." She answered.

"Do we know when he's supposed to wake up?" Carter questioned.

"I don't know honey." Pepper said honestly. "We have to hope for the best."

Morgan felt her heart sink in her chest as they pulled into the parking garage.

Everyone got out as soon as the car was parked and rushed to the elevator.

"FRIDAY, take us to the medbay where Peter is." Pepper said.

"Right away miss." She replied.

They made it to the medbay in record time and rushed to Peter's bedside, where he was still asleep.

Morgan almost didn't recognize that it was Peter in the bed.

His face was unnaturally pale and gaunt and he had lost weight, his frame looking thinner and weaker because of it. His hair was longer than she had ever seen it before and was tangled in knots. He had multiple bruises scattered around his body that should have been healed.

Tony and Harley walked into the room soon after and Morgan hugged them both extra tightly as she let out months worth of fear and anxiety in the form of tears.

"Shhhh, Maguna, it's ok, he's home." Tony whispered. "Breathe, you have to breathe."

"I thought he was dead." She sobbed into his chest.

"I know, but he's here now, everything's going to be ok." Tony reassured her gently.

Carter and Pepper joined in the hug and they all comforted each other.

Peter was finally home, where he belonged.

And he was about to wake up from his slumber.

"Hello?" a voice said, cracking in the middle of the word. "Where 'm I?"

Harley turned his head towards Peter so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

"He's awake!" He said.

Everyone let go from the hug to gather around Peter's bed.

"Peter, are you ok? How do you feel?" Carter asked.

Peter turned to look at Carter.

"Who're you?" He asked confusedly.

Peter looked at all the people standing by his bed.

"Who are you guys?" He asked. "What am I doing here?"

Everyone's hearts collectively sank at his question.

Peter didn't remember anyone in this room. He couldn't recall his family. What had HYDRA done to him?

"Peter, we're your family." Morgan explained shakily. "I'm Morgan, your little sister. That's Harley, your brother, Carter, my boyfriend. That's mom and dad over there. Don't you remember at all?"

Morgan's voice broke as she asked him that question.

Peter looked at everyone's faces, one by one, trying his best to remember them but he couldn't. His memories were blank with a capital 'B'.

"Maybe photos or videos might help?" Carter offered weakly.

"FRIDAY pull up video footage from the folder, Family Shenanigans."

FRIDAY displayed footage from the timeframe that the Avengers were playing pool in the rec room.

Tony was on a team with Carter and Harley and Morgan were on the other. Peter and Pepper were watching them play from the side.

"Come on Harley, you can do better than that!" Tony teased as he put chalk on his cue stick. "Morgan's been carrying your team the whole game."

"No way, I've hit at least half of our balls in the pockets!" Harley protested, even though he knew he was spouting bullshit.

"I've done two behind the back shots and made them, how many have you done?" Morgan piped in, absolutely decimating Harley, the Roast King himself.

Everyone burst out laughing at her comeback and Tony immediately fell to the floor from laughter and pounded his fist on the ground.

Morgan had never seen her dad laugh so hard at something, let alone everyone else, including Natasha, who usually never let more than a chuckle out when she found something hilarious.

"WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON ANYWAY?!" Harley yelled at her over all the laughter.

"That's my sister!" Peter said proudly, with tears of laughter in his eyes.

Friday played other videos taken during random moments, as well as displaying photos. Everyone took turns explaining what had happened that day and why it was special. Peter asked questions here and there and everyone answered patiently and with extra detail to help.

Eventually, they had gone through the entire folder and Morgan glanced at Peter to see if there was a flicker of recognition at all.

"Do you remember now?" She asked him softly.

Peter had tears in his eyes as he answered.

"I'm so sorry." He said.

Morgan wanted to scream her heart out. He still didn't remember his family. She didn't know if he ever would.

"I've been gone so long, and HYDRA erased my memories. But you guys were able to find me before they could finish the job for good." He said, finishing what he had wanted to say. "I do remember you guys. I can't believe I ever forgot how much everyone here means to me."

Pepper let out a gasp as she nearly tackled him in a hug. Everyone felt a huge weight lift from their shoulders as Peter laughed weakly at everyone's faces.

"Peter, don't you ever scare us like that again!" Harley scolded with tears running down his face.

"That was a shitty thing to do, seriously." Carter said, annoyed but mostly relieved that Peter was back.

"Peter, never forget how much we love you." Tony said, wiping a tear away from his cheek.

"I can't believe you're back." Morgan said, smiling despite the fact she was still crying a bit.

"I'm here, and I won't be leaving you guys like that again." Peter replied. "I mean, I'm bedridden at the moment anyway."

Everyone groaned at his joke before a group hug formed around Peter.

Everything was as it should always have been.

A/N: Here's a little fun fact about this chapter, the part where Morgan roasts Harley is based on something that happened within my family a couple years ago. In my family's version, I was on a team with my cousin and my dad and another cousin were on the other team. The dialogue is basically word for word what happened. I roasted my cousin, and my everyone started laughing, and my dad literally fell to the floor and was pounding his fist on the ground.

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summerstardust · 4 years

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Did You Miss Me? Part 4

Dhawan!Master x Reader - Previous Missy x Reader

Summary: The Reader finally copes with the loss of Missy, and now The Master, thanks to their TARDIS. Did You Miss Me? Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of character death and alcohol

Word Count: 3290

The Doctor had let you keep The Master's TARDIS, piloting it into your apartment, making it look like an ordinary old wardrobe in case of visitors. You requested that she land the TARDIS parallel to the wall that faced your bed, so the ship would always be watching over you. Surprisingly, given The Doctor’s recent reluctance to let you get close to the current regeneration of The Master, The Doctor understood how there was no place like home. Despite The Doctor seemingly understanding that you needed the comfort of The Master’s main possession, she and the fam tried to reach out and keep in touch with you an annoying amount of times, but you became very flaky in responding to them. You didn’t feel comfortable with them anymore. You decided to put yourself into your work and school, however, eventually making friends with some people there, but probably not to the extent The Doctor wished.

You understood that standing with The Master was questionable, but you knew, where The Doctor and the fam did not, that The Master would never force you to take part in his schemes. The last moment you were face to face with the fam and The Doctor was when they took you back to your apartment after the events of the Kassavin. You could see, then, that they were disapproving of your relationship with The Master. You would rather spend time with those who could at least try to understand your feelings for The Master and his feelings for you, instead of blindly following The Doctor’s view of him. SO you just decide to ignore their demeaning remark to The Master and your relationship with you.

You didn’t need The Master to tell you that he was acting out because of something. You assumed that it had to do with being left behind by The Doctor on that adventure where you were not present, causing Missy to regenerate into this new Master. But when he spoke of knowledge he had gathered on the subject of Gallifrey’s founding, you didn’t question his acts because you knew of his past and the trauma that was inflicted on him and even The Doctor by the elders of the planet. The Doctor didn’t inform the fam about her past, you could tell when you bring up something about Gallifrey or the Timelords or The Master, and they looked onward to you, confused but intrigued. It was difficult to not find The Doctor’s secret keeping annoying, only making your wish to stay away from that environment increase with each passing day.

With the lack of communication with the fam and The Doctor, and little involvement with people at your school and job, you and the TARDIS became very close. She would brighten up when you were near, the both of you grieving over the same individual. She was used to The Master’s changes and schemes that could get out of hand and leave her stranded, but she knew how you were not accustomed to this lifestyle. Missy, if she were to ever get lost, once she found her TARDIS she would always fly back to when she last saw you. From your perspective, it was always the same Missy, but to her, sometimes it was a couple of months since she last saw you, in extreme cases it would be years. When The Doctor has brought her back to Earth within the Vault, it had been almost fifty years since she last saw you.

The Master has obviously watched over you as O and during the 77 years stay on Earth, but unfortunately for him and his relationship with you he was more absentminded than Missy, resulting in him getting lost in his schemes and not landing back at the most available time. So it was now the TARDIS’s responsibility to look after you.

After a rough and stressful day at university, you went searching through the TARDIS, trying to find The Master’s bedroom. The TARDIS had led you to multiple doors, purposefully leading you to them, but also not letting you stay too long in the first few because there was still more to show you. The first was your private room from right after Missy told you who she really was, she gave you the opportunity to go to that room later whenever you felt overwhelmed and needed alone time. The second was the room you and Missy shared whenever you would stay in her TARDIS compared to your apartment at school or family home. The third room was the room you stayed in O’s Australian home, in the exact same state you left it in, messy bed and all.

The final room the TARDIS led you to was The Master’s, it was much larger than the previous rooms combined. It housed a cluttered desk, a large, four poster bed covered in purple and black blankets and pillows and purple curtains, and tall bookcases covering the walls. A ladder leading up to an open attic layer in the corner of the room caught your eye. Curiosity got the better of you, and an extra push from the TARDIS, caused you to climb the ladder. The room was dark, but clean and filled with large trunks neatly labeled in Gallifreyan. You tried to understand the circular writing, but to no avail. Some words were comprehensible, thanks to what the TARDIS had taught you, but not enough. So you decided to just open the trunk closest to the attic opening.

Inside, you found Missy’s old clothes. She rarely let you wear any of the items, only when she was protective of you or jealous of a stranger getting too close to you, or when the two of you were intimate, would she let you borrow one of her coats. With the latter circumstances she might have let you borrow one of her corsets. Generally, however, she preferred to see you wearing clothes that she commissioned for you, still allowing her to be possessive, but making you more comfortable in an outfit perfectly designed to your figure.You quickly shuffled off your top and replaced it with Missy’s purple coat, it was always your favorite. You dug through the trunk, moving away more clothing items until you found a couple of small, ornate boxes.

Inside the boxes, there were various items. It took you a moment to realize that these were all mementos of your time together. One of the boxes, larger than the others, was filled with multiple journals and bound photographs of the pair of you. You packed up the small boxes and carried them out to your room, still wrapped up in Missy’s coat.

You stacked up the journals in chronological order, the oldest on top, then removed the ties holding the photographs together. You noticed very quickly that all of the photos were taken on either your phone or one of your cameras. There was one outlier, however, which was a photo of you glaring at Missy who you remembered was trying to prove to you that her alien camera technology was better than your primitive human technology. You didn’t really respond to her taunting, you liked and were used to your human belongings, but were open to the new science you were being introduced to on a daily basis. But you grew shocked when you found photos that you had never seen before contained within the stacks Missy had collected. There were pictures of you asleep in your arms, or you when you were working on your homework or art, or even you doing everyday chores in your apartment. On the back of each photograph, you could read Missy’s elegant handwriting describing the photo and the date it was taken.

As you delved deeper into the contents of the boxes, rereading miscellaneous notes and letters from you and gifts you had given her, your home phone rang, but you let it go to voicemail, more consumed by Missy’s memories. You forgot about the answering machine message on your home phone until you heard it, it was Missy’s voice, “Why hello, lovely Human! You seem to be calling at an inconvenient time, turns out the owner of this home is in the middle of a very private act” she audibly gasped before laughing. You heard a younger version of yourself yelling at Missy to put the phone down. Missy only continued to laugh at the younger you’s shocked attitude before saying, “Do whatever it is you Humans do on this primitive device.” You don’t know why you never changed the outgoing message. The mementos the TARDIS let you see plus this moment of actually hearing Missy’s voice again broke you. You couldn’t hold back the tears streaming down your face, even with the reassuring beeps emanating from the TARDIS. The only thing that broke your concentration was the person calling you.

“Hi, Y/N.” It was Yaz. “I tried calling your mobile, but you didn’t answer. The Doctor said that this was your home number. I just wanted to check in and see how you were.” You weren’t going to respond, at least not yet. You would just say that you were busy with school work. Missy was the only important thing right now, especially when you had the opportunity to read her words and encounter her thoughts and beliefs again.

You opened the journal you had placed on the top of the stack, the first date recorded being the day your first met. She wrote of when she first saw you often, constantly referencing back to that moment well into the journal, always referencing how she knew she needed you from that date, how everything you did caught her eye. How quietly you entered the shop Missy was working at in an attempt to be seen as human, how you shyly searched the aisles, moving out of the way and turning your head down to stare at the floor whenever another person would pass you. She described you as young, you were. You were barely old enough to drink when you met Missy. But she could see something within you that was not present in other people your age she would come into contact with. She was the person who was attending the cash register when you finally retrieved all of the items you wished to buy. You recalled how flirty she was toward you, as you read how she loved seeing your cheeks grow warm and red as you would bashfully giggle and look toward your feet. You had left the shop with a hopeful Missy declaring that the two of you would see each other again. You were unaware, until you returned to your dorm room, of the note Missy had snuck into one of your shopping bags containing her number.

You hesitated when responding, no one had ever expressed any interest in you before and you were naive and unaware of how to go about this without seeming desperate or juvenile. You read Missy’s account, how hopeful she was, how she saw something special in you and she didn’t want to be disappointed. She wrote how anxious she became when you never contacted her, that was definitely something to learn. You had never really seen Missy as anxious, she hid it very well except when pressed.

You remember thinking that it would be better to confront Missy in person, rather than call her. So, despite not needing anything, you ventured out to the shop to look for her. You saw her eyes light up when she saw you, but she quickly put on a face of confidence. She asked what it was that you were intending on buying today, but you quickly told her that you weren’t here for anything to buy. Then you quietly asked if there was a time when she was free so the two of you could talk. Missy noted in her jornal that if anyone else was on the receiving end of your statement, they would have assumed that you were disappointed or annoyed or about to tell them off because of your tone. However, Missy was able to read you well, and knew that you were just shy.

Once her shift was over, she took you to a fancy restaurant, too fancy for the everyday clothes you were wearing. She paid for everything, not worried about the money. You looked around the restaurant occasionally, everyone appeared to be a powerful business person or politician, you couldn’t help but wonder why they were not glaring at you and Missy for your daily wear . WHen you turned back to Missy, she always wore a knowing smile that simultaneously scared you but drew you in. You wanted to know what she knew.

After your meal, Missy asked if you would like to come home with her. You were hesitant, having had a couple of glasses of wine already, but you eventually agreed. Her home was quaint, but incredibly elegant. More elegant, you assumed, than what a home owned by a shopkeep would have. She led you through her home, briefly stopping in her kitchen to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of wine similar in price to the one she ordered in the restaurant, she then showed you to her room. You stopped in the doorway, worried by what Missy wanted.

When she turned around, wondering why your footsteps stopped, she laughed when she saw your scared face. She stopped and sighed saying sweetly that the two of you would only do what you were comfortable with. She only led you here because her chairs and sofas were more for appearance rather than comfort and her bed was the only comfortable place in the home. On later occasions when you sat in those chairs, you agreed with her and said that she should think about comfortable furniture in the future. Which could explain O’s Australian home and then his console room and the abundance of sofas available. The night ended by you drunkenly falling asleep in her bed beside Missy’s adoring face. You awoke, however, alone, but to the smell of various breakfast food. Before you could get out of bed and meet her in the kitchen to help her with the food, Missy carried in a large tray containing various foods for the both of you. She forced you to eat and manage your hangover, even though you said that you were fine and she didn’t need to do this, but she insisted. After eating, Missy gathered up some clothes that were magically your size and allowed you to shower before she drove you to your school building. Before leaving the car, you made sure that you enjoyed your evening and that if she wanted it, you would like to continue seeing Missy. She smiled brightly before leaning in to place a sweet kiss to your lips before saying that she would love that and she would pick you up in a couple of days. Looking back on it, this moment felt so long ago, both you and The Master had changed so much since then, how the two of you grew together.

Going over these events and reading them through Missy’s words, you couldn’t help but see similarities between how she treated you and how The Master treated you. Eventually your mind wandered from Missy’s memories and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have mementos with her new regeneration. Would he push away your camera when you want a picture, or would he strut and pose like Missy did? From what you had read, Missy cared about you more than anyone else, but she was quite reserved emotionally and tried to stay stoic and and constantly expressing the essence of regalia to keep you in a constant state of flustered bashfulness. She loved seeing your blush. Would The Master? Would his new regeneration try to separate his feelings, or would he let you see all of him, even the broken parts. You were shocked when you read how long Missy would be away from you on some occasions and how you were so unaware of what Missy had been though. You remembered Missy just falling in your arms on some nights, and you figured that a failed adventure or scheme would explain that. You wondered how long it would take The Master to come back. You hoped that it would be no where near 77 years. You wish you had known of Missy’s collection, how intense her love was for you, and how much she did to protect you and keep you safe from her past. You might have acted differently around The Master, stronger and more forceful in protecting him, because he needed to be cared for too.

You hoped that The Master was safe. Despite fear present in The Master’s eyes before he was taken by the Kassavin, you believed that he was still alive. You had to believe that he was still alive. Other than the TARDIS, the thoughts of him being alive was all you had. You hated how short your time together was. Reminiscing on the few days of knowing O and this new incarnation of The Master, you knew that he not only loved you, but loved you deeply. You, as a Human, had very little understanding of the effects of regeneration, however, you imagined that a love carrying on through the change of every cell in a body was a big deal.

You removed your mind from your sadness over him and brought yourself back to reading Missy’s journals. You were currently reading about how she loved to watch you sleep, cradled in her arms and pressed flush against her body. She said that in those moments time stopped, the outside world didn’t exist. It was the two of you in a cocoon of love, acceptance and big fluffy blankets. Your moment with O in his Australian home popped into your mind when you read that, despite you wanting to focus on Missy. This would explain why you saw his eyes lite up so brightly when you asked him to stay with you that night. You wished that The Master had listened to you to take a break when looking for The Doctor, then the two of you could have had a moment alone. If all you did was take a nap together, at least the both of you would have some time alone away from the stress The Doctor placed on your relationship.

But you became distracted when you heard a loud bang come from outside your bedroom window. You quickly rushed over to see what could have made the noise, but from where you were there was nothing below your apartment window that could have been the source of the sound. You returned to where you were sitting on your bed. You continued to search through Missy’s old journal and the photographs, reminiscing on the positive moments you had with her.

You ended up falling asleep whilst reading Missy’s journal, still wrapped in her purple coat, having reached her accounts of the events that occurred after Missy revealed who she truly was to you. You slept soundly that night, which had been an unusual occurrence since you lost The Master again. But finding these artifacts of your time with the love of your life calmed your mind. You now had something to remember her by, along with The Master’s TARDIS, these items were a comfort to have in this time of grieving. However, in your heavy sleep, you were left unaware of the shadowy figure watching you from the balcony outside your window.

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #the master #the master imagine #the master x reader #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #missy #missy imagine #missy x reader #fanfiction #request #personal post

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joezworld · 3 years

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Deeply Specific and Very Long Ocean Liner Headcanon

So, most boats, ships, and vessels of every sort are normal - or as normal as a sentient seagoing vessel can be.

With one big exception

The Transatlantic Ocean liners were considered to be an odd bunch on the best of days, and got seemingly nuttier as years went on and ships got larger. While ships like the RMS Olympic might have had some personality quirks, moving on just 20 years brought about ships that were just eccentric.

Take, for example, the SS Normandie.

The pride of the French Line, the ship made a name for herself in the interwar years for being bigger, faster, more luxurious, and downright prettier than any other liner at sea. She took her appearance very seriously, and many of her initial eccentricities were missed under the assumption that she was vain, not nutty.

But nutty she was, and this became especially evident during The War.

Most French Line ships scattered to the four winds, running to any port who might protect them from the incoming German threat. Not Normandie, who called her fleetmates cowards and kept to her scheduled sailing dates until September of 1939, when she sailed into New York harbor and requested asylum for herself and her full complement of crew.

The Americans were more than willing to provide protection, but at a cost - Normandie would have to become a troop ship for the allied war effort. According to the vessel, she had been expecting this, but had been more than willing to do her part for the war effort.

That is, right up until the US Navy announced that they would be stripping her of her fine furnishings and painting her in dazzle camouflage. This was a line in the sand that Normandie refused to cross, as she knew that the Americans would likely ‘appropriate’ her elegant art deco décor for its scrap metal content the instant it hit the dockside. She refused, and left immediately for the open ocean, opting to serve her native France in a different way.

What was that different way you might ask?

Well, first she sailed to the French Colony of Guadeloupe in the Caribbean, intending to serve as the island’s supply ship in order to keep it from starved out by enemy U-Boats.

This plan lasted about a month, before a U-Boat sank another vessel virtually in front of her. Equipped with high-tech radar and many other navigational aids required for a safe transatlantic crossing, the infuriated liner bore down on the surfaced U-Boat and rammed it, sinking it instantly.

To quote the ship’s 2011 autobiography: “It was at that moment, surrounded by the oil and debris of my first kill, that I became a warrior. My mission - to destroy the enemy by any means possible. None would escape me.“

Normandie would spend the rest of the second world war as a one-ship wolf pack in the Caribbean, chasing down and sinking any and all vessels - military or otherwise - flying the Axis flags.

A typical day for the Normandie was captured in the logs of the U.S.S Plymouth - which sighted the ship several times during a Convoy Escort mission in September 1942.

Log entry - Sept. 9 42 - sighted Periscope off port bow in early morning (approx. 09: 30) - dropped depth charges to no effect. Sub made attempt to torpedo convoy - missed by significant distance. Sub fled. No further sightings until after noon.

- Recon aircraft out of Guantanamo observed what appeared to be a German sub tender and Sub two hundred miles due east of Havana. Moved to intercept at 13:04 ship’s time.

-13:51 Sighted large contact on radar, moving fast to intercept from SW. Radar says that contact is bigger than any ship known to be in area.

-Large contact made no attempt to intercept - made beeline for approx. location of sub and tender. Crows nest observed a huge liner flying the French flag at 14:39.

-15:04 All ships visible - contact revealed to be liner Normandie - flying biggest French flag ever seen. Sub Tender - unknown freighter flying Italian flag- attempted to flee while sub dove. Liner lowered French flag to reveal equally large pirate flag and charged the sub - ramming it and sinking it at [COORDINATES CLASSIFIED]

- 15:12 rescue effort made on sub crew - 3 survivors. Normandie bound NNW in pursuit of sub tender.

- 18:26 rejoined convoy - prisoners in brig to be transferred to Guantanamo Bay.

- 23:11 sighted Normandie again. Received Aldis lamp transmission from liner. “Two Sunk. Success.”

- 23:19 lost sight of Normandie.

At the war’s end, the Normandie had accumulated a whopping 37 confirmed kills of German, Italian, Japanese, and Vichy French vessels, making it one of the most decorated warships of either side had it been commissioned into any navy.

Following the war, Normandie resumed transatlantic services until she was replaced by the much larger SS France in 1962.

Now lacking anything to do for the first time in her long and illustrious life, Normandie elected to sail more or less for pleasure, spending several years sailing about the Caribbean in order to properly mark out her ‘kills’ to West German survey vessels, before circumnavigating the earth in the company of the SS United States, who had been retired following the collapse to the United States Lines in 1964.

Although both ships are immensely private about the nature of their relationship, the addition of a gold band to each vessel’s lead funnel - a traditional sign of marriage - in 1972 did not go unnoticed.

Since then, both liners spent the tail end of the 20th century living lives of leisure punctuated by mild adventure.

in 1979, both ships attempted to evacuate residents of the Dominican Republic ahead of Hurricane David. They failed to do so, and were forced to ride out the storm at sea, reportedly reaching the eye of the storm in the process.

Following the attack on their close friend SS Atlantic Conveyor during the Falklands War, both ships led a flotilla of other retired liners in an effort to significantly hamper the Argentinian Navy’s assault on the islands. The success of this still debated, however it did show that the Normandie is not alone her ability to hunt down submarines, as the United States and the former German/French liner Liberté successfully hunted down and sunk the ARA Santa Fe during the conflict - much to the shock of all military forces involved, who had thought that the liners were joking when they began to participate.

In 1985, following the SS France’s abrupt ‘retirement’ from Norwegian Cruise Lines, (NCL had wanted to ruin France’s lines by adding more cabins on her upper decks - she refused and was shown the door) The United States and Normandie joined in a venture to provide even better cruises - so that they could beat NCL at their own game. The resultant company was one of the largest cruise lines in the world, and was the highest valued travel stock in the world after its IPO in 1991, causing all three ships to become immensely wealthy when they sold the company to Carnival Cruise Lines in 2000.

All three liners have left the public eye since the early 2000′s - becoming eccentric billionaires instead of eccentric vessels. Most sightings of the Normandie and United States have been in increasingly unusual places for them to go, like the Arctic, the Antarctic, the US Great Lakes, and even off the coast of Siberia. They claim that they’re just doing touristy things, but most of the world’s submarine fleet has doubts.

#long #ocean liner #ss normandie #ss united states #ss france #ww2 #war #boat headcanon #extremely specific headcanon #headcanon #I wrote this one for me #having sentient boats messes with so many historical events

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itsamejin · 4 years

Text

the one that got away || hendery angst || part 2 (finale)

Part 1

Summary: Some days you don’t regret the decision to leave him, but most days you do.

Warning: self-hatred, insecurities, mutual pining

Genre: angst, fluff, mutual pining

Pairing: Hendery x reader

Premise: You two broke up and that should’ve been the end of it, but he sends you a message and all of a sudden it isn’t.

Commission Request: @iron-lix

Word Count: 4,164 words

—

hey, its guanheng. just got your new number lol, wanted to know if you would like to catch up sometime and talk? Idk… just text me back if u want to

You were tempted to delete it, bury it in your trash bin along with all the other concerned messages Guanheng sent you before you blocked his number. It would’ve been the right thing to do, to end any sort of contact before you could hurt yourself further. Insecurity nagged at the back of your brain, yet you find yourself texting him back anyway.

if you want

Short. Simple. Enough to get the message across, but not enough to make him think you were desperate. Did you come off as desperate? Please, don’t make him think-

omg

u actually replied!!

how are you???

and im free on sunday

do u wanna meet up then?

The bombardment of texts brought a sad smile to your face. It really was him. It was Guanheng. No person used question marks as liberally, no person sent that many texts consecutively. You hesitate to answer. Too much could go wrong for you to risk seeing him again. You could break down in tears and be left in the dust, similar to how you had left Guanheng just a year earlier.

You convinced yourself that there was nothing left to talk about, there was no more closure needed. You two broke up cleanly and it should stay that way.

i’m doing fine, and yeah i’d love to :)

Your thoughts contradict your actions and you find yourself burying your face in your hands, frustrated at how easily you agreed. What the hell was wrong with you? You blocked him for a reason, you wanted to get over him. Agreeing to “catch up” with an ex wasn’t getting over him. You would only end up missing him more after all was said and down.

What made you think that you deserved to see him after all you had done?

—

At a small cafe on the outskirts of Macao, you reconsider every decision you made that led up to this point. You fiddle with your fingers, wondering why you even decided to paint your nails like he’d even pay attention to them in the first place. You scratch at the polka-dotted dress you wore, cursing at yourself for wearing his favorite color- pink. You purse your lips, regretting putting on such heavy makeup to hide the dark circles that formed underneath your eyes from the sleepless night you had. You couldn’t get a wink of rest knowing you’d see his face again after so long.

You should’ve just stayed home, should’ve just blocked his number as you did all those months ago.

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls out, interrupting your negative thoughts. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s actually you.”

You look up from your lap, Guanheng staring at you with the brightest smile on his face. He takes the seat across from you hesitantly as if he still wasn’t sure he came to the right table. No one recognized him here in this reclusive cafe, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to relax. Especially with you in front of him.

“It’s been a while,” you smile sadly. Your voice was shaky and Guanheng noticed. He noticed everything.

“Did you order yet?” he asks, equally nervous, but with a large grin on his face. His hand reached out to grab a piece of paper on the table thinking it was the menu. Sadly, it was not. You giggle slightly at his awkward expressions as he slid it back to where he got it from.

“That’s the placemat,” you inform him. “They were planning to give us the menu when you came.”

He cringes at himself. ‘Why do I always find a way to fuck things up?’ he cries in his mind. Guanheng thought he could’ve introduced himself more smoothly.

“Y-yeah,” he scratches the back of his head. “I probably should’ve known that.”

You two sat in silence even as the waitress planted the menu on the table. You let Guanheng order for you, surprised he still remembers your favorite drink. You wonder if his stayed the same too.

“...and I’d like a black coffee,” he smiles widely, bidding the waitress goodbye. He sees the small scowl etched on your face, but doesn’t quite know why. He used to never drink black coffee. It was too bitter for him and he always overreacted when the liquid would touch his tongue. You couldn’t believe that had changed in just a year- just like him.

You inspect his face blankly as he chatters about something nonsensical, trying to fill in the silence that you had left him with. Guanghen’s hair is shorter now, trimmed in a way that highlighted his boyish features perfectly. He wore a dress shirt, cuffed at the elbow. He wouldn't have been caught dead looking so suave in the past, opting for comfortable hoodies and beanies so ill-fitted that they hid his eyes. You were looking at Hendery, a version of him that existed on magazine covers and photo cards. You clutch the ends of your dress. See [Y/N]? He’s fine without you.

He stops his talking when he notices your lack of enthusiasm. You used to love hearing him talk, but you looked at him with such emptiness that he wondered if his voice was grating in your ear. He stares at you too, a sad glint in his eyes. Your face, although beautiful, was tired and sunken. You had a dullness in your complexion. You no longer glowed as you used to when he was yours- or to put it in terms that he liked better- when you were his. You shake him out of his own wallowing thoughts.

“How’s Korea?” you ask, knowing he had been promoting there recently. You hear from his friends that he loves it there, that the European-esque streets of Macau got too boring for him. He liked the hustle and bustle of Seoul, the capital of entertainment and fast-paced living. “Your new album doing well?”

Guanheng is happy that you asked, afraid you had lost interest in his work after the breakup. He was so afraid you had lost interest in him.

“It’s been great!” he nods thoughtfully. “We’re planning something soon, so I only have a week here before I go back. It’s been hectic...”

You purse your lips. It must be rough on him, only getting to stay with his family for such a short period of time. Guanghen must miss it- all of this. The city, the humidity, the people... maybe not you, but maybe the memories that came with the relationship. You sure miss it too.

“How about you?” he breaks the silence, noticing that your glances were drifting off somewhere else. “Anything interesting going on in your life?”

You shake your head and give a fake smile. He hates seeing it. Guanheng would prefer for you to curse him out than for you to act fake towards him. It’s like you couldn’t let your guard down with him... and he used to be the only person you let your guard down with. This wasn’t how usually were, but then again, he hasn’t seen you in a year. Could you have changed so drastically that the sight of his face made you that uncomfortable?

“Nothing notable,” you sigh, staring past him rather than right at him. “I’ve been thinking of moving out of Macau for a fresh start, you know? Somewhere new...”

‘Somewhere that doesn’t remind me of you,’ you say silently to yourself. You see a flicker of a pained expression, but you get distracted when the waitress delivers water to the both of you. You stir the water with the straw, glad you found another distraction to keep yourself from making eye contact with Guanheng.

“I wouldn’t have an excuse to visit,” he says teasingly, but you could feel grit in his tone. “if you weren’t here.”

You blink rapidly, not quite registering his words. What was he saying?

“What about your family? Your friends?” you question. There were a lot of things that came with this city, it’s not like you were the only one living here. You figured you’d be the last thing on his mind these days. Guanheng just shrugs.

“They visit me often,” he sighs. “But you don’t. You never visit.”

He gives a sad chuckle, sipping from his cup lowly. Your mouth opens, but not a sound comes out and so you close it again. How were you supposed to respond? Guanghen sighs at your silence.

“You blocked my number.”

Your heart cracks at the sound of his voice. He played around with the straw, refusing to look at you. He sounded... sad and you wondered if the reason for his sadness was you. Weren’t you usually the reason?

“Guanheng-” “You don’t have to say anything,” he stands up straight, a panicked look on his face. He realized then that he made the atmosphere even tenser than it already was. “I’m not here with any other intentions except to talk to you. I know... I know that...”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t know how to without sounding desperate. ‘[Y/N] I know that it’s been a year, but would you like to start over even though you might not have feelings for me anymore?’ Yeah, no way he would be caught dead saying that out loud- not when you looked at him with such emptiness.

“What’s wrong Hendery?”

You wonder why the person with the brightest smile in the world had such furrowed brows as he looked into your eyes. And maybe that was your first mistake. Calling him by his stage name.

“Hendery?” he scoffs.

“I’m sorry,” you say a little shocked at his angry expression. “Did I overstep-”

“Why would you call me that?” he asks with sad eyes. “Why are you treating me like I’m a stranger?”

Your last chance at getting closure and you had said something wrong that made him uncomfortable. You blew it, didn’t you? Of course, how could you be such an idiot?

“I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Hendery,” he repeats, still shocked at your words. “You never call me that. Not even when we dated.”

Dated. Past tense. He wasn’t yours anymore and you needed to accept that. Guanheng was right there telling you to. You were out of your mind for thinking this was going to turn out like you expected, that he would walk back into your arms without hesitation.

“I can’t do this,” you say abruptly, standing up from your seat. “Guanheng I’m sorry it was a mistake even meeting up with you.”

“[Y/N]-”

You walk past the table, feeling bad for the cafe workers that were oblivious to your sudden outburst. You took out your wallet from your shoulder bag, setting down cash to make up for the food that hadn’t arrived at your table. The worker stared at you with large eyes.

“Ma’am-”

You were already out the door, tears threatening to spill over. Guanheng came to talk, came to have a chat with an old friend that happened to be his ex-girlfriend and all he got was an awkward conversation that showed how broken you were without him. You walk and walk, missing the bus stop that you were supposed to wait at until you hear rapid footsteps behind you.

“[Y/N] wait-”

Guanheng wraps his fingers around your elbow and pulls you to face him. You couldn’t bear to look at him, staring at your feet rather than his face.

“Just let me walk you to the bus stop. It’s dangerous for you to walk alone,” he says, the hand that was on your elbow was shaking. “I’m sorry for acting weird back there. It wasn’t even something serious and I freaked out over nothing-” “No,” you say shaking your head, pulling his hand away from you. He felt empty now that you were out of his reach. “I was the one that overreacted.”

“Don’t,” he says sadly. “Don’t apologize to me.”

You finally gather the guts to look up at him directly, but you regret it almost immediately. You notice up close that he’s still the scared kid who couldn’t believe he was called in for an audition by a massive foreign company. It makes you want to embrace him, comfort him from all his worries, and tell him that it’ll be okay. Except it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a while.

—

Under a flickering streetlight, you sit at the bus stop’s bench with tense shoulders. He sits farther away from you, careful of the watchful gazes from the public and any sneaky cameras around patiently waiting for him to mess up.

“I miss taking bus rides late at night,” he admits, not looking at you in fear of people watching. “It feels different somehow.”

You smile sadly.

“Yeah. We used to ride one from school together.”

He nods, biting the inside of his cheek. Words used to flow naturally when he was with you, but he had to go and mess it up at the cafe by feeling offended over something that was trivial. So what if you called him by his stage name? It's been a year since he’s last seen you- of course, you’d have been more cautious about what to call him. He was stupid, so hopelessly stupid.

“I miss the rivers too,” he mutters. “I miss those overpriced boat rides tourists would pay for.”

He chuckles sadly, reminiscing of a time when you had gone with him. When you were his and he was yours.

‘Most importantly I miss you,’ he thinks to himself, but he balls his hand into a fist before he could say anything else. You hated this, hated that he always held back before saying the most important thing.

“Guanheng,” you start, heart beating rapidly from your chest. “Why did you want to see me?”

His eyes waiver and you could see it glisten in this light. Did you say something that made him uncomfortable yet again?

“I just,” he swallows, not finding the right words, “wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he replies, “I feel like you’re doing fine.”

‘Without me,’ he screams in his head. Guanheng doesn’t notice you bowing your head or the tears that had started to form in your eyes. He was too caught up in his own tears that threatened to spill over, but he convinced himself to hold it in.

“Well, I’m not,” you broke out with a cry, already knowing you were past looking pathetic. You let the tears fall onto your lap. He doesn’t notice at first, but Guanheng snaps his head to you, no longer caring about his surroundings. He slides closer, patting you on the back.

“What's wrong?” he asks worriedly. “Did I say something again?”

“No,” you say, looking up at him and he swore his heart sunk at that moment. Even when you broke up with him your eyes never looked this hurt. Guanheng didn’t even know he had that effect on you anymore. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well obviously I did if you look like this right now,” he says angrily, more at himself than at you. He wipes away the tears from your eyes, but it only made you wail harder. He was still so good at comforting people, still so gentle. You wished that he wouldn’t stare at you with such caring eyes and give you false hope- hope that he wanted you back just as much as you wanted him. It wasn’t right to be feeling this way when you were the one that broke up with him. You had no right.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry out, holding onto his arms to steady yourself.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks worriedly. His eyes, too, were turning red.

“For ignoring you when you needed me most.”

A silence falls between you two and his grip on you tightens. This was a conversation you two should’ve had a year ago. He didn’t quite know why it was being brought up now, but at least now he can ask what he’s been dying to figure out.

“Why did you block me?” he questions solemnly. “Why did you agree to be friends and then just cut me off like that?”

You purse your lips.

“I’m sorry for-”

“Please,” he begs, hands letting go of you. “Answer me just this once.”

You try to gather yourself but fail miserably. How could you when this was potentially the last time you’d ever see Guanheng again?

“I was scared,” you answer truthfully.

“Of what?”

You take a deep breath and sigh.

“That you might hate me.”

Guanheng tips your head to face him, a serious look on his face.

“I’d never hate you.”

He looked at you with such softness- the kind you haven’t felt in so long. At that moment you could trust him, at that moment you felt like everything would be okay.

‘It’s alright if he does,’ you think to yourself. If he hates you then fine, but you needed to tell him one last time. Then there’d be no regrets. Maybe then you’d have the guts to finally leave, start anew in a place that didn’t remind you so much of him, but that’s probably impossible to do because Hendery was the sun itself, and you were just you.

“I still love you,” you whisper solemnly, “and I hated that you let me go so easily when it was so hard for me to let go of you.”

His mouth falls open and you swear you see hurt in his eyes, so you turn away. Regret always came after your worst decisions.

“You thought I let you go easily?”

A stray tear had fallen down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry I-”

“Stop being sorry,” he pleads. “I hate hearing you apologize when it was my fault too.”

You look up at him, confused.

“I should’ve fought harder for us,” he continues. “I should have told you that I loved you back then and that I could’ve made it work. I can’t believe you thought I was okay with breaking up. I said we should stay friends just so I could have an excuse to talk to you again and you kept ignoring my texts and I thought I was being annoying and-”

He always used to ramble a lot when he was anxious. Guanheng takes a deep breath and puts your hands in his. The bus was not coming anytime soon.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he mutters. “I still love you too.”

You shake your head, refusing to believe his words. He just felt sorry for you, he didn’t mean-

“I tried dating other people,” he says matter-of-factly, breaking your heart a tiny bit because you hadn’t. You never tried to venture past him because it had always been him, always.

“Guanheng, why-”

“But it just didn’t work out,” he cuts you off, swallowing his saliva nervously, “because they weren’t you.”

You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off again.

“I sent you text after text asking you to take me back,” he sighed sadly. “But I never sent them because I knew you wouldn’t even see them anyway. I told the guys about you and they said it was a lost cause, that I should move on.”

“But you didn’t,” you whisper, touched by his words. Guanheng shakes his head.

“I didn’t,” he smiles as he intertwines his fingers within yours. “And maybe it’s messed up to say this, but I’m glad you didn’t either.”

You laugh with him, the tears dried by now. You look at him, his eyes crinkling so beautifully as he smiles.

The bus came seconds after under the flickering street light where you two share a chaste kiss. His lips tasted the same and you can’t help but grin.

It was still him. It was still Guanheng.

—

He walks with you, his hand bumping into yours one too many times that he just held yours in his. It didn’t feel real, being so close to him again. Maybe you had gone through hurdles to get to where you two were now, but at least he was back where he wanted to be- by your side. You two talk about anything and everything and let a comfortable silence fall in between you two when there wasn’t a need for conversation.

Guanheng asks you what you watch recently. Netflix documentaries. You ask him what songs he listens to nowadays? You cringe when he says Justin Bieber. He laughs when you laugh, walks at the same pace as you, calls you pet names. It’s like he never left, but you knew that in a week from now, he will leave. And maybe you’ll go back to wallowing in your own sadness again.

You’re already at the steps leading to your house, but he refuses to let you go, so you let him inside. He smiles at the lack of change.

“My stuff’s still here,” he says in awe, picking up the small robot figurine that was propped up on your coffee table. You fluster at his words.

“I didn’t have the heart to throw them away,” you mutter. He smiles at you.

“Do you still have my clothes here?” he asks. You panic.

“Oh, do you want them? I can go-”

“So I can stay the night then, right?” he asks seriously. You wonder if he thinks himself a comedian. You punch him in the arm with a puff of your breath.

“We haven’t even seen each other for more than a day and you-”

“Not like that,” he chuckles, realizing what he had implied with his statement. “I just want to sleep here. With you. Innocently.

You stare up at him, unconvinced.

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get kidnapped?” he whines, giving you those puppy dog eyes that you missed so much. You miss him so much.

You click your tongue at him, walking to your bedroom as he follows right behind. You scathe through your closet, pulling out the comfy clothes he always wore. You could never admit to him that you’ve been sleeping in them for the past year since he was gone. He takes them from you.

“Then I’ll go change,” he says with a cheeky smile. You roll your eyes, getting dressed for bed as well. Guanheng takes a seat on your bed and lays down next to you. He watches you silently for a while before he starts stroking your hair.

“Move to Seoul with me,” Guanheng jokes casually. You take him seriously for a second, but notice the Cheshire grin on his face and decide to play along.

“I don’t know anyone there,” you pout, squeezing his hand lightly.

“You know me.”

You roll your eyes.

“You know that’s not enough,” you scoff. “I need a job, I’ll miss my family and-”

Why were you taking this so seriously? Your face heats up with embarrassment. How could you let yourself be carried away by his simple teasing?

He smiles at you, patting your head softly.

“Then, I’ll just keep coming back to visit, I guess,” he replies. “Unless you’re still planning to leave?”

You pondered for a bit. You did need a change of view, a change of pace. You had spent a year in this apartment wallowing in self-pity. It wouldn't be so bad to move somewhere new, would it?

“If I go to Seoul,” you start off hesitantly, “What does that mean for us?”

He looks at you, confused. The atmosphere had turned somber without him noticing.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitate to ask, still confused as to where he stands. Dating an idol was hard, you knew that. Did he?

“Will I be your girlfriend again?”

He scoffs.

“I thought that was a given.”

You smile, but there was a hint of sadness in your eyes.

“I’m not good at being there for you, Guanheng,” you admit. “I have so many flaws and you have to put up with so many of them-”

“You put up with mine,” he says, inching closer to you. You shake your head.

“I’m not a good girlfriend.”

He shoots you a glare, pulling you into his arms and burying his face into your hair. Guanheng hated in when you talked about yourself like this.

“You don’t have to be,” he says. “I want you to be [Y/N], not just my girlfriend. You just have to be okay. I want you to be okay.”

You feel the prick of tears in your eye and nod into his chest. You need to trust him. You have to.

“I’ll try,” you say, drifting off into sleep. “This time I’ll try.”

And this time he won’t let go.

—

A/N: Super hard writing this because it’s been like uhhhh more than a year, but I’m glad I got to do it. Thank you @iron-lix for commissioning this and being so sweet and patient. I hope this was up to your expectation! Check out her blog for cute WayV fics!

I’ll be starting on my drabble game after I finish my last two commissions. Writers block is starting to get to me guys, so I’ll try to pace myself better in these next few days. Again thank you to everyone for being so kind in your messages and asks to me. I really feed off the positive vibes, you guys really know how to make me feel special T^T

give me a coffee?

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