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bi-bard · 6 months

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Some Part of Me Came Must Have Died the Final Time You Called Me, "Baby" - Joel Miller Imagine [The Last of Us (HBO)]

Title: Some Part of Me Came Must Have Died the Final Time You Called Me, "Baby"

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Based On: First Time

Word Count: 3,231

Warning(s): main character death, violence, injury

Summary: Joel is offered a rare glimpse of hope after the apocalypse had started. However, the universe can pull away signs of hope just as fast it can offer them.

Author's Note: I've changed this song's story about three times... oops.

UNREAL UNEARTH - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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The first time that I met Joel it was because he was being dragged in very suddenly by Tess.

I had just sat down at my dining room table and placed my head and my hands. I was so tired. But then again, so was everyone else. At some point, everyone being tired just means that no one is and this state of being is just considered normal.

Doesn't mean that I had to like it.

I felt like I had done nothing but panic all day. People needed my help. They always did. The problem was that those in charge didn't like that I was trying to help people without taking part in whatever strange structure they had been developing. So, it all had to be done very quietly.

Which was hard to do when people were busting down my door... like Tess did.

She hadn't even tried to knock. She knew that she was less of a guest and more of a regular patient at this point. Instead of knocking, she shoved the door open, allowing it to bang against the wall it was next to.

"Hey, hey, what the hell," I asked. "What'd my wall do?"

"Sorry, not the wall's fault," she replied as she closed the door again. "Just tired of dealing with this hardass."

The man with her grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"Dumbass got his hand cut open," she explained. "Fix him. Please."

"I'm fine," the man muttered.

"The hall you are," she snapped at him.

"Let me look," I said, holding my hands up. I stood up and held out my hand. He glared at it for a few moments before finally letting out a huff and letting me grab his hand. "Oh, that is nasty. Come on. Sit down. I'll stitch it up for you."

He seemed like a toddler as I got him to sit down at my dining room table.

I was cleaning the cut to the best of my ability considering the whole apocalypse thing. I had to fight the urge to chuckle at his quiet grumbling and huffing at the stinging.

"So, Tess, who's hand am I working on," I asked.

"Could ask me," the man replied. "Joel."

"Well, Joel, you didn't seem like the talking kind," I shrugged.

"(Y/n) was a doctor before this whole shitshow," Tess added.

"Almost," I corrected. "Had a couple months left. Probably why I was left alone and not made to find a cure or kill those that were infected."

"And now you just... help people out of kindness?" Joel's tone was gruff. He didn't believe that it was possible for anyone to be kind for the sake of being kind. I didn't blame him. It was hard to believe.

"Believe it or not, darling, not everybody resorts to being awful when the world goes to shit."

I heard a quiet, amused huff escape Tess.

I went back to my work in silence after that.

At some point, Tess said that she had to leave. I was focused, tongue poking out a bit between my teeth. I could feel how closely Joel was watching me, but I did all that I could to ignore it.

Joel was just as I expected: not a conversationalist. He was gruff. His shoulders were tense. His hands were calloused, but most people's hands were these days. His face was hard-set in a scowl. He was clearly a man that had grown skeptical of everyone around him. Probably why it took Tess physically shoving him through the door for him to actually get his hand taken care of.

"Come back in... a week," I instructed. "We'll check out the cut and see what's next."

He nodded, muttering a thank you. It was an awkward thank you. It was as if he had forgotten how to say it. I had to keep myself from chuckling. Something told me that he wouldn't appreciate that.

I never thought that I would see him again.

I was wrong.

It was a few days later that I heard a knock on my door. I furrowed my eyebrows. It had been late. Most people didn't bother coming to me late at night because it was simply too much of a risk. The only people who got themselves hurt that late were the ones who went looking for trouble that late.

Joel was standing on the other side. He looked almost as awkward and tense as he did when he thanked me.

"Joel," I said in greeting. "It hasn't been a week yet, don't tell me that you've already hurt yourself again."

"Uh, no, no," he shook his head. I watched as he went to reach into the bag that he had been carrying on his back. "I was finishing up a job and found some medical stuff. Thought you'd get some use of it."

He held the bag out to me, letting me look down at the stuff that he had.

"Oh, thank you," I replied. "Here, come in."

I stepped to the side. He nodded as he moved around me.

We found ourselves standing at what little counter space I had. I was digging through the bag, pulling out supply after supply. Bandages and medication. Some supplies for cleaning wounds and stitching up cuts. It was a miracle.

I looked down at the collection of stuff I had.

"Listen. I won't ask where you got this stuff," I explained. "But I will say that, darling, you are a miracle."

"I hope that calling me 'darling' isn't gonna stick," Joel muttered.

"Keep bringing me shit like this and I'll call you anything you want."

I heard him scoff, which made me look over at him.

"Thank you, seriously."

He just shrugged me off, ignoring my gratitude. "I'll bring you more when I get my hands on it."

"Deal."

That was the beginning of a great arrangement between the two of us. He would go on his jobs and bring me back medical supplies. I would take care of whatever wounds he and Tess earned while doing so.

I got used to Joel being around. It felt like I was constantly finding him on my doorstep.

As time passed, I found something between us shifting.

It was something in the way we talked. It was like some kind of wall had started to crumble. We were becoming more and more vulnerable. Each revealed secret was a brick being pushed from the wall, leaving each of us with a far clearer image of each other. I liked it.

I found myself being more nervous. My heart beating faster, my thoughts moving even faster, and my face warming whenever I said something that wasn't strictly professional or friendly.

I was constantly convincing myself that I was conflating things. Any lingering looks or touches were simply my imagination running rampant. Any act of kindness was nothing more than Joel finding a way to ensure that something that benefited him was functioning properly.

What else could it have possibly been?

Why would I believe that it was anything else?

Those were two questions that I would constantly ask myself. It was some way of ensuring that whatever feelings I had stayed in control. That my thoughts didn't run wild.

I held onto those two questions until I was forced to let them go.

I was sitting across from Joel at my table yet again. There had apparently been a fight somewhere outside. Joel had won but had gotten a rough hit to the side of the head.

"I'm shocked that you came to me when there wasn't any visible blood," I said quietly as I leaned back in my seat. He seemed fine, thankfully.

"I knew that you'd never let me hear the end of it until you checked it," he muttered.

"Aw, you learn fast, darling."

"I thought you were gonna stop calling me that if I kept bringing you supplies."

"I don't see any supplies," I commented.

He nodded toward his bag, which was sitting on the table.

"Joel...," I mumbled, almost sounding like a disappointed parent. Or like an owner that just watched their cat drag in a dead bird. I opened the bag and found supplies tucked away in the bottom. "The fight... it wasn't over these, was it?"

"Asshole was trying to take the meds-"

"Joel!"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"You could've just given him the drugs instead of getting yourself hurt," I lowered my voice and leaned in a bit closer, trying to not alert anyone around us.

Joel mimicked my movements, "You were almost out-"

"That is my problem to solve."

"Not anymore."

"Why not?"

It was a question that hung in the air between us. It weighed it down, making it tense. Heavy. There was an answer there. Sitting in that space.

Joel went to lean back, clearly going to shrug off the whole event.

I didn't let him. Instead, I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his in the most awkward kiss I had experienced since I was in high school. Regardless of how awkward it was, it felt right. Almost comforting. In a world where proper connection felt impossible, this moment made it seem like the easiest thing in the world.

It was a short-lived moment. A matter of seconds before Joel pulled back. I leaned back too. Any comfort I had found faded away in seconds, now replaced by a kind of fear that I hadn't felt in far too long.

"I'm sorry," I muttered to him. "I shouldn't have done that. I-I'm sorry-"

Joel cut me off by leaning forward and kissing me again. It was as if he had been waiting for me to say that it was alright and after I kissed him, he knew that it was. My hand came up to touch his cheek, thumb dragging along the scruff on his face.

He leaned back. I smiled at him, hand still on his face. I saw the grin forming on his lips.

"I should... I should go," he mumbled.

"You could," I nodded.

"Or... I could stay here a bit longer."

"I like that idea a lot more."

He chuckled at me. "I thought you would."

It felt as if everything changed after that.

Objectively, not much had. Joel was still bringing me medical supplies. He was still having me look over injuries.

But something had still shifted.

It was nice. And weird.

I had gone through so much time on my own. I had shoved myself away from everyone. I had been someone hidden in the background. There when needed, blending in when I wasn't. Joel had largely done the same, hiding from any kind of connection for his own sake. Neither one of us truly knew what to do now that there was all this attention on us.

But we learned. Slowly.

I liked it.

Despite all of the fear, despite all of the life we had both lived through already, there was this kind of innocence that came with whatever we had. It was strange to have to relearn myself. But it was worth it. The highs and the lows of it all.

I think that being with him forced me to let my guard down.

I expected to hate the idea. To always feel that pit in my stomach that came with the fear of never being prepared enough, of nothing being scared enough. But it didn't seem too bad. It was nice, actually.

Every time that I felt the word "darling" pass my lips, the more at peace I felt with myself. With the world around me. Something that I never thought I would experience... or want to experience for that matter.

Maybe that made me a fool. Maybe that made everything that happened that night my fault.

I had no reason to believe that that day was going to be any different from any other before it.

I had woken up next to Joel, which had been happening more and more. I could remember smiling to myself when I did. I had been more comfortable with him than I had throughout most of my past.

We both had gotten up and gone to our respective jobs like it was any other day. He told me that he was going to come back to my place when he was done. I had joked about him making it home before me at sitting at my doorstep like a lost puppy. He chuckled and muttered that he would see me later.

I watched him walk to the door before I stopped him. "Darling..."

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at me. "Yeah?"

I paused for a moment before walking over to him. I kissed him gently. "I... I love you."

It had taken me months to get the words out. I had been thinking about it for ages at that point and something about the moment felt right. Nothing in the day had gone wrong yet. There hadn't been any bad news that morning. Everything had simply been quiet and calm. I felt as if I needed to say it then and there.

There was a long pause where Joel just stared at me.

I wanted to apologize. Take it all back and let our day go on as planned.

I didn't get a chance. Before a word could escape me, he replied, "I love you too."

I froze for a moment before a smile formed on my face. I leaned in and kissed him again. When I pulled back, I tugged the door open, causing his hand to fall from the doorknob.

"See you later," I said as I walked out.

"Yeah, see you."

I spent the whole day with a dumb grin on my face. Comforted and safe. It was strange to feel like that while working. It had been one of the only times that my guard had truly come back up all the way now. But I couldn't help it. I had gotten so comfortable with Joel that it made me comfortable with the rest of the world.

It wasn't until I made my way home that anything seemed wrong.

I was walking down the hallway back to my place. As I did, I saw that my door was cracked open. I furrowed my eyebrows, immediately slowing my steps.

I tried to make sure that I hadn't stepped on any squeaky floorboards.

As I got closer, I heard two voices muttering back and forth to each other and the distinct sound of someone rummaging through my stuff.

I should have turned around then. I should've gone to get somebody. I should've done anything other than open the door. But I didn't listen to that intuition. Instead, I slowly opened the door, hoping that it wouldn't creak on its hinges.

I saw two boys rummaging through my stuff. One of them in the kitchen. The other in my dresser.

"What the hell are you doing," I asked.

They both turned around to face me.

"Go ahead, answer me," I pushed, trying to be braver than I was. I was already certain that they were there for the meds that Joel had gotten me, but I wanted them to admit it.

"Grab 'em," the guy at my dresser said.

I took off as the boy at my kitchen cabinets ran toward me. There wasn't much room to move. I was hoping that I could get around and back to the door before he caught up to me.

I wasn't so lucky.

I had made it around to the kitchen counter. However, when I tried to run around again and back to the door, the guy managed to get in front of me. He grabbed me.

I struggled. I did all that I could to get away from him.

I think that scared him. The next thing I knew, there was a knife sinking into my stomach. I gasped.

I had never thought about what something like that would feel like. It was strange. It was sharp. A shooting pain that burned through my body. But some part of me almost felt... numb? As if as soon as the pain started, it stopped.

The boy looked just as shocked as I did. As if he truly didn't believe that he had the ability to hurt someone. I wonder what went through his mind. If it was some promise that he made not to hurt someone or some promise to get better or if he was realizing that all of this pain and suffering was going too far.

His panic caused him to jerk the knife to the side, cutting even further along my stomach before abruptly pulling the blade out.

He stumbled backward as I fell to the floor. I clasped my arms over my stomach, hoping to stop some of what was coming out. I heard his friend yelling at him to go after slamming the dresser shut. I heard something like a stunned 'oh shit' before insisting that they still go.

It was like poetic justice.

Joel walked into the doorway just as the boys shoved their way out. I met his eyes from my place on the floor.

I felt my vision tunneling as Joel's voice echoed in my ears. He was yelling at the boys who were running out.

"Joel..."

My voice came out weak. Weaker than I wanted it to.

It seemed to get his attention though. He would have all the time in the world to track those boys down. I wasn't going to be so fortunate.

He ran over, kneeling next to me. He grabbed the sides of my face, moving my head so I'd look him in the eyes. I tried to lean into his hand, searching for some kind of comfort.

"There you are... look at me," he muttered. "I've got you."

He pulled away from me. He was frantically looking around my now-messy place, looking for where my supplies had been thrown.

When he ran back over, he was holding my box of stuff for stitches. I almost wanted to chuckle. I knew that stitches were not going to work. The cut was too big, too deep. It had simply been too long for them to solve anything.

I found myself just wanting him to look at me again.

I reached up and touched his cheek. "Darling..."

He shushed me quietly. "I... I'm gonna... I'm gonna fix this. You're gonna be just fine, alright? Just fine."

I didn't respond. I simply dragged my thumb along his cheek before I pulled my hand away again.

I found my vision growing even darker than it had before. I let my eyes flutter closed. It was strange, being so aware of my death. I always thought that I'd be overcome by shock. Or that I'd go in my sleep. Anything that didn't force me to face the presence of death directly.

And in the end, I never found myself minding how death loomed over my shoulder the entire time. I was focused on Joel. Having him there, getting to touch him... getting to call him "darling" one last time.

If I could find one thing about death to remember in whatever afterlife I found myself in, I would like it to be that I was loved.

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#imagine #fanfiction #x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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myveryownfanfiction · 1 month

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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

requested by: @coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe

request: My other idea is for 'Mother' from Sneakers meeting a federal agent who he falls head over heels for but they try to deny that they like him back

warnings: swearing, mention of wanting to have sex

I watched as Abbott rolled his eyes at carls request. Chewing on my bottom lip, I glanced over at mother. His eyes flickered between Carl and the other nsa agent that stood behind me. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as his eyes landed on me.

“hang on.” He said. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “If Carl can get her phone number, I want one too.”

“Darren.” I sighed and looked at Abbott. Mother looked at me and shrugged.

“please?” He asked. I shook my head. He frowned as Abbott confirmed it was my choice.

“sorry Darren.” I said as we cleared out. I patted his shoulder and could feel his gaze on my back as I left the building.

“you know,” Abbott said as he fell into step next to me. “You could have given him the number. He’ll find it one way or another. And I don’t think it would be that bad…” I shot him a look, somewhere between heartbreak and fear.

“he’s not worth losing my job.” I whispered harshly. “He’s a hacker.” Abbott sighed and nodded.

“whatever.” He said. “Mother has a way of finding things anyway so don’t blame me if he finds the number.”

“I will blame you.” I said as I passed him by to get into the car. “You’ll leave him a trail to find it. I know you better than you think.” Abbott laughed as we drove off. A few days later my phone rang with an unknown number. I smirked and shook my head, letting it go to voice mail.

“dammit. Alright. Uh (Y/N), if this is the right number, please call me back. It’s uh…it’s Darren.” His voice dropped when he said his name. I smiled to myself as I continued making my lunch. He never referred to himself with his first name, mainly sticking to his hacker moniker. “Roskow. Uh please.” There was a pause before his voice came back across the line. “If this isn’t (Y/N), I’m sorry for taking up space on your machine. Have a nice day.” The machine clicked and beeped as he hung up. I laughed as I walked over to delete the message. Every week was the same, phone call from a new unknown number with the same message. He always left his name, never his moniker. Something about the refusal to use it made me rethink the length I was holding him at.

“still haven’t called him back?” Abbott asked one day as we drove out to a warehouse where there had been a tip. I glanced over at him and rolled my eyes.

“look just because you let him get my number and he hasn’t yet had his moniker when calling me, doesn’t mean that I’m going to call him back.” I shot back. Abbott laughed.

“I did nothing of the sort.” He said, having a hard time making eye contact.

“sure.” I laughed. “Oh shit.” I quickly covered my face as we pulled up to the scene. “Darren called in the tip didn’t he?” Abbott looked at me before looking out my window. Darren was standing there, looking at each car that drove by him.

“no.” Abbott said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s monitoring our frequencies.”

“fuck me.” I muttered, turning in my seat to see him. Darren watched my car as we drove into the warehouse.

“I’m sure he wants to.” Abbott laughed as we got out of the car. My door had barely closed when there was a commotion at the door. I held up a hand to let Abbott know i had it.

“Darren.” I said as I walked over. He smiled at the agent holding him back and I met him in the corner of the warehouse. “You know anything about this?” His smile fell. The rapid shake of his head made his hair fall across his eyes.

“no. Definitely not.” He said. I nodded, looking over at Abbott.

“if it werent for the way you’re shaking your head I’d almost say you were lying.” I said, reaching out without thinking and brushing his bangs back. Darren bit his lip as his eyes trailed after my hand.

“no uh bishop has a scanner and whistler may have…” Darren stopped as the corner of my lip quirked up. “Yeah I’m gonna stop talking.” He chuckled looking down at the floor.

“alright Darren?” He hummed as he looked up at me again, eyebrows raised. “I need you to stop listening to that scanner and tell whistler to lay off tracking me. Which is creepy by the way. Drop that one real fast.” Darren nodded as I pointed at him. “And just…stop calling me. Ok?” Darren’s face fell and I gave him a soft smile.

“but (Y/N)…” he started. I put my hand on his arm.

“I have to go do this but Darren…” I squeezed his forearm. “I cant. As much as you seem to think I can, I cant.” I turned and walked away, not being able to stand the expression that came over his face. Abbott frowned as he watched Darren over my shoulder as I walked back over. “Don’t.” I warned as I passed him to go look at the crime scene we had established.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Abbott muttered as he followed me. The next few times we got called out, Darren was there. The phone calls had continued, evolving into Darren trying to convince me that it was worth the risk to be with him.

Until one day, I slammed the door and leaned my head against it. I screamed and hit it with the palm of my hand. The sting brought me back slightly. There had been a shooting, we lost our evidence and on top of it all there had been a threat against the agency. I screamed again before turning to my living room. I collapsed on the couch and dropped my arm over my eyes. The steady beep of my answering machine made me drop my arm. Staring at it, I wondered who could have called. Darren called when he knew I was home, still hoping I’d answer it. Getting up, I pressed the button and leaned against the table.

“hi. It’s me.” Darren’s voice came through the speaker and I frowned. “I know you told me to stop listening to the scanner but…well…” Darren laughed and I found the knot in my chest loosening some. “I…well…I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Physically. I know mentally it’s got to be hell.” I ran a hand down my face. “So just listen. I know you normally do anyway. I can’t tell you much without you wanting to come get me. But let me tell you how I got the moniker. I know you’re curious.” I laughed and moved to lay down on the couch next to the end table. The knot was almost completely gone by the time Darren had to end the message and call back. He left three messages, continuing the story. By the end of the last one, I was smiling and felt like a weight had been lifted. The phone rang and I picked it up, already knowing who it would be.

“hi Darren.” I said softly. The way his breath hitched over the phone and me smiling to myself.

“you picked up.” He said. I could practically see the wheels in his head turning, trying to put two and two together. “You never pick up.”

“and you kept monitoring our frequencies.” I said, my tone teasing. Darren laughed and closed a door on his end.

“yeah.” He admitted. “I’m sorry about today. And before you say anything I know I didn’t have anything to do with it but I’m still sorry.”

“your call helped.” I said quietly. “I was about to put my hand through a wall when I saw your message. Ended up laying on my couch instead. Thanks for that.” I closed my eyes as I waited for his response.

“anytime.” It came a moment later, Darren still clearly trying to come to terms with the fact that I had picked up. “Hey want to grab something to eat? Tonight? I have more stories.” I chewed my bottom lip before nodding.

“sure.” I confirmed when I realized he couldn’t see me. “Meet me at mine? I know you know the address.”

“yeah about that…” Darren said. “Look out your window.” I walked over and moved the curtain, laughing when I saw him in the phone booth in front of my building. “Want me to come up?”

“see you soon Darren.” I hung up as I watched him scramble to get out of the booth and up the stairs. It was a couple minutes later when I heard the knock on my door.

“Hey.” Darren said as I opened the door. In response, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. Darren made a noise in surprise before his hands made their way to my hips. I cupped his cheek, running my hand down to his chest before pulling away. Darren stared at me in surprise before smiling. “Ok.” I laughed at his clear shock before blindly grabbing my stuff off the entry table.

“tell me the story of this.” I said, tapping the crystal around his neck. Darren nodded. “I’ve never seen you without it. I want to know about it.”

“yeah ok.” He said, taking my hand as I closed my door and started walking down the hallway to the exit.

#dan aykroyd #dan aykroyd imagine #dan aykroyd fanfic #dan aykroyd x reader #dan aykroyd fanfiction #Mother #mother fanfic #Mother x reader #Mother fanfiction #Mother imagine #Darren roskow x reader #Darren roskow fanfic #Darren roskow fanfiction #Darren roskow imagine

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sillygonk · 3 months

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Strings of Devotion [ao3]

summary: Samurai is rapidly gaining popularity, despite being relatively new to the industry. The group leader and vocalist, Johnny Silverhand, quickly became a heartthrob, furtherly increasing the band's reputation. But their path to money and fame can’t be too easy. Banzai Riot, another fresh Night City band, is gaining fans just as quickly as Samurai, and is led by an enigmatic girl known as "V". As both bands soar in popularity, their rivalry (or rather rivalry between the leaders) escalates, fueled by a one-of-a-kind opportunity – Battle of the Bands competition with a three-year contract from Universal Recording as the grand prize. Will they jump down each other's throats first chance they get, or will they find a common ground amidst their shared journey to success?

pairing: Johnny Silverhand/V

word count: 4,4k

Chapter II ->

Chapter I – Get in gonk, we’re going to get famous!

In the waking world, where reality's gleam, I long for the man from my nightly dream. When I try to reach, he fades from my sight, Leaving me alone in the quiet night.

In the first rays of light I whisper his name, But he's vanished, like…

Like, uh… Like…

Fuck.

“Writer's block again?”

V stopped scribbling and looked up at Raf from her notebook. “Yeah,” she ran a hand through her ruffled hair. “I… It's just, like, my brain is playing hide-and-seek and I’m losing every fucking round. Fucking pisses me off.”

She tried to break through that creative barrier for the past hour, while ignoring both the loud music playing in the background and the lively banter of her bandmates gathered around their favorite booth at El Coyote Cojo. This rickety old thing had seen it all and was marked by years of their spilled drinks, drumstick banging and even jack-knife carvings on the tabletop, for which they got an earful from Pepe couple years back.

V was mindlessly running her fingers along the gashes, cursing under her breath. Seeing her frustration, Raf sighed heavily into his beer and took a sip. “I think you just need to chill, you know? Take it easy. Clear your head.”

“Ooor, you know,” Nova smirked. ”Fuck what he said and let’s start a good ol’ bar brawl and see where the night takes us. That will give you some inspiration.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I need another fucking charges on my record,” V snorted, looking into her friend's pink optics. “Plus, Mamá would kill me if I blew up in her bar again.”

“I’m not saying here. I‘m saying, like, in general.”

“Maybe don’t say anything else, how ‘bout that?” Raf sighed again.

V just rolled her eyes at them. Like fire and water, Nova and Raf were total opposites. Nova thrived on chaos. She was beautiful, loud, and was always drawing attention wherever she went. Even though she was a big softie on the inside, Nova had an unapologetic attitude and was a force to be reckoned with. Raf on the other hand was the epitome of calm and collected for most of the time, but behind his composed exterior hid a batshit crazy madness. Sometimes, when his rational façade would crack, he’d dive headfirst into the unknown just for the giggles. He was also, as the only guy in the band, just a baby.

She equally loved and hated them sometimes.

“What about that new track you've been working on, V?” Misty chimed in and started humming. “The one with the killer riff?”

“Ah, that one,” V sipped her beer. "Well, I have a track with no lyrics. Nothing we will make outta this.”

“We can say it’s a ballad and call it a day.”

A drink almost flowed out of V’s nose when she snorted.

“Yea, I don’t think that would be enough, Mist.”

Nothing was ever enough anymore, it sometimes seemed. Ever since they started taking music seriously, nothing had been the same.

At first, it had all been just for fun – they had been just a pack of raggedy teens who tried to find a way to blow off some steam in a safer way then jumping into gang life or ending up as dorphers. It started in abandoned garages or basements with klepped equipment and no skills. Their learning stage had been laughable at best, but it was better than wandering the streets looking for trouble. They honed their skills, at first getting somewhat good and then better and better each day. They began to realize that their music held a power beyond mere entertainment. It was their way to escape the reality for a while. It even became a lifeline in the darkest of times.

Then, slowly but surely, a shy idea rooted in their minds that maybe, just maybe, they could turn their passion into something more. Sometimes they dared to dream of a future where music was not just a hobby, but a way of life.

In the beginning they ignored these silly dreams, thinking they were too big for their own good. However, over time, they managed to convince one or two owners of second-rate pubs to let them play here and there. Then they even got the courage to ask Mamá Welles if they could play at the Coyote and to their delight, she agreed right away. “I thought you'd never ask,” she even said. To their even bigger delight, after their little gig, she told them that they should think of it more seriously. And that was it. For the first time they really thought the idea through and made their decision.

The legends of this city.

And now, here they were, stuck in one place, trapped in the shadows of their own ambition. They still had almost no name, no money, and in their minds, no prospects in a city where everyone wants to be a legend. They were getting somewhat recognizable locally, but it was too little and too slow. They all knew that their path to a breakthrough would be rocky, but come on. Not that rocky.

Still, they were refusing to let their dreams die. They may have been naive back then, when they made that decision, but now? Now they knew that they were meant for something more. They may not have been the most fortunate, but they had their passion, their perseverance, and, most importantly, the unbreakable bond that held them together. Which was cringe if V thought about it long enough, but she wasn’t one to denied it.

And as V reflected on those formative years, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the innocent teens with stars in their eyes. They persisted despite the hardships, living hand-to-mouth, with empty pockets but unbroken spirits. They poured their hearts into every chord, every lyric, clinging to the hope that someday, their determination would pay off. They just needed to do better and be better. Better than anyone else.

So no, V didn’t think that leaving their song at “ballad” stage would be enough.

“Alright, V,” Raf placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “Show me the stuff.”

“It’s not finished,” V stated, trying to hide her notebook away.

“And it will never be finished if you’ll keep gatekeep us, you gonk.”

This time it was V who sighed. Even though Raf was (usually) right, she would never admit it out loud. Fucking smartass. She handed him her notebook.

As Raf flipped through the pages, he nodded or shook his head while reading her never finished lyrics. V was on the edge of her seat, waiting for his take. When he finally got to the latest part, he laughed.

“The man from my nightly dream? Who the fuck you writing about?”

“Not your fucking business, that’s who,” V scowled, snatching the notebook from his hands.

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m saying it’s a bit corny.”

“Then you write something, funny guy,” V rolled her eyes. “You are all trash today, seriously. Maybe except Misty.”

She wasn’t going to count the silent one, Prime, as she was baked out of her mind in the corner of their booth, as usual, not bothering anyone.

“Why thank you,” Misty smiled. “And don’t listen to them. Writer's block is just another hurdle in the vast maze of creativity. Take a step back, breathe in the chaos of the world around you, and let it fuel your imagination. Night City wasn't built in a day, and neither is a masterpiece. Just trust your abilities, trust the process, and you'll be back in the zone before you know it.”

A small smile spread on V’s lips. Misty, always the sweetheart, was her forever favorite addition to the band.

“Thanks Mist. You’re seriously an angel.”

“I know,” she smiled sweetly. “Maybe I should give you a reading?”

“Eh, not today,” she drank rest of beer in one gulp. “You will pull out The Fool card and my mood will be ruined.”

“V, I told you hundred times now, The Fool card does not-“

“Yeah, yeah, it does not mean I’m the fool, I know. Still doesn’t make me feel any better when you pull it out every single time,” she murmured under her breath, suddenly irritated at the stupid card. Misty only giggled and pat V’s head.

“Is there any way to make your mood better then?”

“Yeah. I need another drink.”

As if on cue, Jackie appeared on the top of the stairs, walking towards their table with a tray full of beers, smiling widely.

“Hola fuckers. And Misty.”

“Jackie, my man!” Raf greeted him with a grin, sliding over to make room for him. “Finally missed us enough to crawl out of a studio?”

The man in question shot a quick glance at Misty and V tried to hide the smirk, though unsuccessfully, when she saw her friend blush.

“Maybe a bit,” he placed the tray on the table and sat next to Raf, stretching out on the bench. “But I come with big news and you’re going to lose your minds.”

“We’ll see. What do you have?” V nodded at him, already reaching out for a beer.

Jackie placed a flyer on the table. “A chance for you to finally make a name. Music contest.”

“Music contest?” Nova frowned and leaned in to take a better look at the brochure. “Like a talent show for kids at school?”

V silently agreed with the comparison. In her mind's eye, she couldn't shake the image of over-the-top judges acting like they know shit, fumbled mediocre performances and uninterested applause. They would most probably end up as some kind of puppets, doing mere sideshow for the amusement of others.

“Hey, don’t insult me, chica. I wouldn’t have come to you with this if it was not legit. This isn’t some dive bar competition, it’s an opportunity, a big one. And, it’s in Afterlife,” Jackie wiggled his eyebrows.

Afterlife? The Afterlife, a cornerstone of Night City's underground music scene? And, sure, mercenary work offered by first-rate fixers, or whatever, since lines between the criminal underworld and the artsy trades somehow got really blurry there, but dude. The music scene. Everyone who wanted to become someone dreamed about Afterlife. This was where real deals were made.

Well. V could re-consider being a puppet if it takes place in the Afterlife.

“So… It is legit?”

“Por supuesto. At least check it.”

Nova reached for the flyer with a heavy sigh and read it quickly. “Batlle of the Bands, yada yada, big opportunity for newbie bands- newbie? I ain’t a newbie, it’s you guys who are amateurs.”

“Just fucking read it Nova,” Raf grimaced.

“Fine, Christ. The competition will consist of presentation and three phases, yada yada yada, oh, OHH!” She exclaimed excitedly and sat on her knees. “The winner will sign a three-year contract with Universal Recording. Guys, Universal Recording! It really is legit!”

“What did I just say?” Jackie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. But seriously, we've been playing gigs at crappy joints for too long. This really could be our big break.”

“Where did you even heard about it, Jackie?” Misty frowned.

“Wakako tipped me off about it,” he shrugged. “Talked with her about you guys copula times, guess she thought it might help you. As soon as she got the detes she let me know. I’m actually surprised that you didn’t already knew about this. Wasn’t Dex supposed to take care of stuff like that? This is a huge deal.”

“Well, Dex is a shitty manager,” V scoffed. “Fucking unbelievable that your cares about us more than our own.”

V met Jackie’s manager a couple of times now. Wakako Okada was a fucking scary woman. Professional and polite, sure, always treating everyone with the same level of respect and courtesy, but she was also reading you like an open book, her piercing gaze seemed to see straight through your core, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. And yet, despite not knowing her very well (and low-key being scared of her), V couldn't help but feel a deep respect for Wakako. She was one of the best in the business, after all, and there was no denying that. If Wakako wasn’t representing solo artists exclusively, and only within the rap and hip-hop genre, V would gladly sell her kidney to afford hiring her. At least Jackie made the cut, and V was really happy that he was able to work with the woman. She let him spread his wings and he was currently recording his first album under her watchful eye. Lucky bastard.

“You seriously should take care of your own biz all the more,” the lucky bastard said.

Guess he was right. They couldn't really deny the allure of this whole shebang. After all, when opportunity like this is literally knocking at their door, they couldn't afford to lose it. Especially if they were left to their own devices. V glanced around at her bandmates with a flicker of hope and was met with excited smiles and silent nods. From all except one since Prime was still spaced out and didn’t say a word since they sat down at the table.

Prime. Always a woman of few words. It might have something to do with her always being stoned, but, as she always said, no one had any proof for that. And she was right, if her constantly bloodshot eyes and the smell of pot that clung to her clothes were not proof enough.

V nudged her lightly.

“Astra? You with us?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Prime blinked slowly, her gaze drifting lazily towards V. “Sup?”

“We have a situation,” V handed her a flyer. “Big shit, big chance. We might even score a record deal. What do you think, we’re in or we’re out?”

Astra took a minute to check out the brochure and nodded slowly. “Oh, hell yeah, we’re in.”

“Really?” V beamed.

“Yeah, dude. That sounds cool,” she focused on the flyer once again and her eyes widened. “Yooo, this in Afterlife? Are we finally hitting the big leagues or sum?”

“That’s the plan, babygirl,” Nova laughed at her stoned enthusiasm.

“Oh, hell yeah, that sound epic.”

“Aight,” V nodded. “Then we just need to get the application and-” she fell silent when she saw Jackie pull application card and a pen from his inside pocket. “The big man thought of everything I see. Thanks Jacks.”

“A sus órdenes, chica,” he saluted mockingly.

“Kay. Guess we’re really fucking doin’ it,” V started to filling up their application with a goofy grin. “Nova, you want to go with full name?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Badges don’t have anything on me anymore, I don’t give a shit.”

“Cool, cool,” V quickly finished putting in their detes. “Okay gonks, sign this up and I’m taking it to the Afterlife.”

“I'll tag along,” Raf quipped in, already signing the papers. “I should get going anyway, I have morning shift tomorrow, so I’ll at least keep you company for a while.”

V narrowed her eyes at him.

“You just want me to drive you home afterwards, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Fine.”

When the papers were signed and the beers were finished, everyone decided to go their separate ways. Raf wasn't the only one working in the morning after all. The booth cleared and the gang headed downstairs, empty glasses in hand, so that Pepe wouldn't have to clean up after them.

Finding an opportunity, V tugged on Jackies sleeve, pulling him away from the group.

“Will you ever ask her out, Jacks?” V smirked at the man.

Jackie stuttered, tips of his ears turning red at the question.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really? Well, that’s a shame,” she hummed. “Misty would be thrilled.”

“You think?” his eyes gleamed and V laughed.

“Yea, you gonk. You just need to finally grow your balls,” she punched him on the arm, which he most probably didn’t even felt.

Jackie’s gaze wandered to Misty again. He cleared his throat and nodded, but pushed V to the side when she laughed at him. They said their goodbyes to Pepe and went outside.

“I, uh, I’ll take Prime home,” Nova winked at V with a smirk, which she returned, silently acknowledging their shared mission.

“Right, we should be on our way too. Need to take this pretty girl home.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Raf batted his eyelashes.

“The prettiest.”

“Prettier than Nova?”

“I heard that!” Nova yelled, already a few steps ahead, tugging Astra along. “You kids be safe. See ya tomorrow.”

V laughed and waved at them, then pointed at Jackie. “See you soon, Jacks?”

“Obviously,” he smiled. “Still have some jobs bagged, waiting for us.”

“I sure hope so. We need to finish them before you’ll be too famous for that,” she hugged him tightly.

“Still have a lot of time,” he ruffled her hair.

With a quick wave to Misty, assuring her she will be home soon, V and Raf made their way to where V's motorcycle was parked nearby, trying to disappear quickly and leave the lovebirds alone. She swung a leg over the back of the bike.

“Hop on, babygirl,” she patted the seat. Raf sat down behind her, but not without rolling his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That’s like, what, twenty minute drive?”

“I’ll make it in fifteen,” V smirked and revved the engine.

They took off, making their way through the streets of Night City, wind whipping through their hair. V weaved through late-night traffic with ease, the scenery shifting from the gleaming towers of the corpo districts to the gritty urban sprawl of the combat zones, flickering streetlights flashing by in a blur. Though the journey was quick, V still sighed sadly when she checked the time after parking the bike in the dark alley. Seventeen minutes.

They made their way inside and paused briefly to explain to the security guy why they were here. He nodded in acknowledgment before directing them to the bartender. As they stepped further into the bar, V felt a thrill of excitement going down her spine. Just being here was enough for her to feel less stuck and more hopeful about their future. They reached the bar and she smiled at the woman.

“Hey.”

“Hi. What can I getcha?”

“Rather, what we can get you. Application for the Battle of the Bands,” Raf flashed his charming smile at the woman, while V pulled out their application.

“Alright kids,” she smirked and reach out. “Let me just check the papers real quick, can't ignore the drill.”

She took the application from V’s hand, took a moment to glance over it, her expression thoughtful. Then, with a nod of approval, she returned it to them.

“Looks good to me. Now I just need the entry fee and you’re good to go.”

“Entry fee?” Raf’s smile faded.

“Yup. There’s always a catch,” she tapped at the bottom of the papers. Both V and Raf looked down.

NOTE: entry fee – 3,500 ed

V huffed and rubbed at her eyebrow nervously. Nova and her fucking reading comprehension.

“Shit. Just… Just gimme a minute, okay? I need to make a call.”

“Who you callin’?” Raf frowned.

“Dex. We ain’t gonna pay from our own pocket, he’s the fucking manager, he need to manage,” she moved away from the bar and headed towards the exit.

“Whoa, wait then, I need to hear you chewing him out,” he laughed and winked at Claire. “We’ll be right back.”

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

Claire chuckled and shook her head to herself as they made their way out. They were kinda adorable, she had to admit, with wide eyes but still exuding self-confidence. With a little smirk on her face, Claire got back to polishing the countertop as out of the corner of her eye she noticed a tall figure in leather jacket approaching the bar. She let out a resigned sigh.

“What now?”

“Those two that left, did I just saw them submitting an application?”

“Yup. Seems like they're gearing up to give you a run for your money."

“Lemme see their papers, huh?”

“You know I can’t do that, Johnny.”

“I know, but you have a soft spot for me,” he smiled sweetly.

“I do not.”

“And for me?” a second guy approached them.

“Don’t get involved, Kerry, you’re supposed to be the reasonable one.”

Kerry shrugged. “We’re just curious.”

When the woman rolled her eyes, Johnny whined.

“C’mooon, lemme see, I’ve been a good boy today.”

“The day hasn't ended yet,” she raised her eyebrow. He took it as a challenge.

“You poked the bear, Claire,” he snatched the documents before she could stop him.

"Johnny, I said no!" the woman exclaimed, her tone sharp with anger, but it was already too late. He quickly scrutinized the papers, narrowing his eyes, when he saw something he did not wanted to see.

Banzai Riot V – lead vocals, rhythm guitar Lara “Nova” Foster – lead guitar, vocals Rafael Gupta – bass Misty Olszewski – violin Astra Prime – drums

“So?” Kerry urged him. “Who are they?”

Johnny clenched his jaw and showed him their info. Kerry glanced at it, his eyes getting wider.

“The fuckers from Banzai?”

“Apparently.”

He heard about them, of course he did. A new band on the rise, slowly gaining fans and momentum, just like Samurai. Making a name was already hard enough when you're fighting for it with no opponents, but when do you add another young and dynamic team to the race? One that is similar in style, on top of it? Nightmare. It was one thing to compete against other bands, but to go head-to-head with a group that was basically their mirror image was not fucking good. Johnny knew that in the cutthroat world of the music industry, standing out was crucial. But now, with those motherfuckers in the scene, it was going to be so much fucking harder to achieve.

Kerry’s voice got him out of his head.

“Shit, they're coming. Put it back!”

Johnny quickly put the papers back in their place and turned around, nonchalantly leaning on the left side of bar with his elbows, his back to those little fuckers. Kerry, similarly, looked the other way, but both of them strained their ears to get any details about their rivals. Claire rolled her eyes at them.

“Kay, can send you the eddies now,” said the girl rather happily, her eyes glowing with blue.

“Okay, got it. From… V?”

“Yep.”

Oh, so she is the leader. She most certainly didn’t look like one, Johnny thought, barely holding back a snort. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips instead, as he processed the newfound information. With long basketball shorts, ripped tank top and checked shirt tied around her waist she hardly looked the part of a rock star. She looked more like someone you'd find shooting hoops at the local court than leading a fucking hardrock band.

As Johnny's mind wandered, Claire's distant voice slowly pulled him back from his thoughts. He blinked, refocusing his attention on the scene unfolding behind his back.

"… your own equipment, ‘cause the sounding is on us. Other than that, you’re all set.”

“Thanks Claire,” he heard the guy’s voice. “Appreciate it, really.”

“No prob. Guess we will see each other often over the next few weeks, so there will be an occasion to say it again, but still good luck.”

“Thanks,” the girl, V, said, and he could hear a smile in her voice. “See ya around, then.”

“See you,” Claire watched them go and when they were out of the earshot, she narrowed her eyes at Johnny and Kerry. “Enjoyed your eavesdropping?”

“Wasn’t even listening to that bubbly little bitch,” Johnny scoffed, turning around to face her again. “Can you fix me a drink?”

The bartender shook her head in disbelief but relented, reaching for a glass and a bottle of tequila. She poured him a new one, which he accepted with quick thanks and returned to his table, Kerry hot on his heels.

“That chick was their vocalist, did you gathered that?”

Kerry glanced at him, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? The fuck you mean?”

“I dunno, man,” Kerry shrugged, his gaze wandering back to the direction where their competition disappeared. “Was more focused on checking out the guy she was with.”

“Dumbass,” Johnny groaned. “Well, while you were busy checkin’ out the gonk, I was busy listenin’. Turns out, that chick is the one callin’ the shots."

Kerry's eyes widened in surprise, his attention finally fully focused on Johnny's words. "Seriously?” When he was met with Johnny’s uh-huh, he hummed. “Damn, she sure is unobtrusive,” he thought in silence for a while, but couldn’t suppress a twinge of doubt gnawing at his gut. His brow furrowed with worry. “Think we should be worried?”

"Please, they've got nothing on us. We've got this in the bag," Johnny said, downing his Tequila Old Fashioned.

Sure. They had it in the bag. One hundred percent.

Or, if he was really honest with himself, ninety nine percent.

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

They stepped out of the bar, their laughter echoed through the dark alley as they made their way back to V’s bike. Raf grinned, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Can you fucking believe it? We have a fucking golden ticket to the Major Leagues!”

“I know,” V smiled, fishing a cigarette from her back pocket. She lit it with a flick of her lighter and took a long drag. “And call me fucking crazy, but I think we stand a chance.”

“Are you kidding? We've got this in the bag, V!”

She smiled at his enthusiasm. He was right. He was fucking right, they could totally score this. All they needed was determination, which they had, confidence, which they had, and a talent, which they obviously also had.

A bit of luck would be also welcome, but to the hell with it – they were working hard for the success and they will succeed. Right now, they just needed to focus, work hard and show all them gonks something good. Something memorable and spectacular. Something…

“Aww, shit.”

“What?”

“Now I really need to think of a new song.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #fem v #silverv #au #alternate universe #cp2077 #cyberpunk fanfic #slow burn #enemies to lovers #original characters

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elliesslutworld · 10 months

Text

Friendly Tension

Synopsis-You and ellie had been best friends since freshman year of high school now it is their sophomore year of college. ellie has always had a crush on you and every since you’ve came out of the closet y’all’s tension has grown. what will happens when y’all make an agreement not knowing each other secretly have feelings for one another?

Authors note-This is my first fic so if it isn’t the best writing bare with me it will get better lol hope y’all like it i’m trying to do story lines that haven’t really been written for ellie! also don’t mind my grammar. and please don’t leave any hate i’m trying lmfao.

Warnings-I don’t own any of tlou characters etc I only own my own character hailey nothing else. smut, dom ellie, sub reader, flirting, sexting, tension, sexual games, praising and degrading kink etc if there are any more lmk!

I’m in the car with my best friend Ellie Williams we are on our way back to the University of Wyoming. I’ve known Ellie since freshman year of high school, she and Joel had just moved to Jackson and luckily the house right next to mine. Ever since I met her and introduced her to my friends we had all bonded. The music had pulled me out of my thoughts when I heard ‘diamond eyes’ by deftones come on “Ellie turn it up I love this song!” she chuckled a bit and complied. It was a couple hour drive so I eventually feel asleep to my music.

Ellie’s POV-

“hey Hailey could you skip this song?” after a few seconds of silence i look over and see her sleeping. she is so beautiful. i’ve had a crush on her ever since I met here except i’ve never made a move because were best friends and i thought she was a straight as a fucking ruler until she came out not to long ago. I sighed frustrated with myself for being so blind but all my thoughts go away when i look at her again. i take a quick photo of her knowing all i’m going to do is stare at it later and be a delusional loser lesbian. I take a deep breath as i prepare myself for this year of college. i mean i’ve had feelings for her for years this year won’t be any different.

Hailey’s POV-

it had been a few hours of dina and i unpacking and we were practically finished. i dragged my feet to my bed groaning as i let myself fall onto it. “Dinaaaaaa i’m so bored” i said over dramatically “then why don’t we go over to ellie’s hangout and smoke?” i shot up and shouted at her “perfect just let me freshen up and we can go” dina rolled her eyes “you just want to look good for ellie admit it” you shook your head of disbelief “dina your my best friend so that being said i wouldn’t lie to you.. so no but i am extremely horny so maybe” dina laughed “just fuck her already y’all’s tension is so thick it’s like almost distracting” i walked out of our closet in some simple hoodie and sweats applying some lip gloss telling her i was ready.

we both walked out of our dorms taking the elevator down bickering with each other the entire time. i had knocked on ellie’s door i could hear her slightly grown and then trip over something with a bang saying “shit, ow fuck that hurt” as she opens the door. she instantly tried to play it off saying “hey guys come in” we walked in “did you stub your toe again ellie?” she blushed and shook her head “no your just imagining things” i replied with a sure giggling at her awkwardness. “sooo why are you guys here?” she asked while glancing over to me. she was wearing black sweats and a black tank top witch silver jewelry, was she trying to seduce me? “haileyyyy” she said while waving her hand in-front of my face snapping me back to reality “hmm?” dina laughed slightly saying “she’s in a horny day dream right now don’t mind her, we got bored so we thought, smoke with ellie?” she said shrugging “dude i’m not in a horny sex day dream i was just spaced out” i huffed “are you sure about that?” ellie said as she sat down right beside me pulling my feet into her lap. “yea i’m pretty sure ellie” i said confused where all her confidence came from “if you say so babe” she said while staring at you leaning back. flustered you look away at dina “so are we going to smoke or just sit here?” ellie got up saying i’ll be right back. She came back with a couple pre rolls finch you and her one to share and dina her own. y’all had been smoking for a while now laughing with each other over nothing. “dina how come plants get life from the sun but we get aged-“ your breath hitched as ellie started to rub your thigh up and down caressing your legs getting a little to high up your thigh at times. “i would love to talk about that more but i promised jesse i would see him tonight” me and ellie got up to say goodbye and lock the door behind her. i mentally cursed out dina for leaving me be with ellie while i was high and horny.

Ellie’s POV-

as i closed the door i turned around to see hailey looking back at me with her droopy red eyes, a glint of mischief i rarely see. i grab her hand and lead her back to the couch pulling her close to me hugging her waist. “you wanna smoke some more?” i ask hoping for a yes “obviously” she said chuckling. i spark it up again, take a hit, and hand it back to her. “so what did dina mean by that horny day dream?” she looked at me taking another hit, “i don’t think you really want to know” i smile slightly pulling her body impossibly closer “i really do” i said challenging her, “don’t get all shy on my now” teasing her.

Hailey’s POV-

I suck in my breath not sure how to get out of this situation. i stare back at her, she looks so hot right now she was teasing me earlier and i’m really horny how am i not going to give in. “Truth or dare? i ask hoping to avoid that particular topic. “dare” ellie said not breaking eye contact, “okay i dare you to do a shotgun with me” it’s okay if i give into a little temptation right? ellie smirked as she picked up the joint with her long veiny hands. ellie stares at me “sit on my lap” i only smirk at this and comply to her demand straddling her. ellie takes a hit sits down the joint and takes my neck with one hand resting her other only my waist gripping tight as she blows smoke into my mouth. I close my eyes feeling euphoric as she pushes slightly on my pressure points making feel light headed. i can only focus on the fact of how close our lips are to fully touching it making me whimper slightly. “what baby, what’s wrong?” ellie says smirking knowing what i want. “you know what i want ellie just give it to me already” i whine, “your gonna have to try a little harder than that, beg.” she stated as she slightly pushed my hips down onto her thigh. still in disbelief i smile lightly “i’m not going to beg ellie”

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neptoons1998 · 1 year

Text

The argument

Summary: Every couple has arguments, It is just that for Shuri and Riri it’s mostly about the well-being of the small nation.

Luna couldn’t believe her eyes she was at the Wakandan research compound.

“Casey won’t believe this!” The young girl squealed out as she continued walking along the research lab. What she wasn’t expecting was hearing arguing between two voices.

“Must look past this Riri,” Shuri said to her, Riri was pacing around letting out a groan as she shook her head, “The sooner we forgive Bucky the sooner we can move on.”

“Move on?” Riri shouted causing Luna to put her hands over her ears, “You want us to move on? He almost stole the most precious metal in this universe! How are you not enraged right now ?”

Shuri gave Riri a tired look, “I am.”

Riri rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever.”

Luna looked at the royal as she continued working like her girlfriend didn’t storm out of the lab.

“Umm,” Luna started, “Shouldn’t you go after her?”

“No,” Shuri said, “No, She’s letting her emotions run wild, she’ll come back to her sense.”

Luna bit her lip, “If you say so.”

The pair continued working in the lab without much talking between the pair. Luna really wished she went to the research lab later when the couple wasn’t in an argumentt right now. Luna decided to start a conversation

“Umm,” Luna started, “Are you okay?”

“I’m,” Shuri started as her project she working on became unstable and started to fall to pieces. Luna gasped as the machine whirled and smoked. Luna looked to Shuri to fix her project, “Fine. everything is fine, Luna.”

Luna’s eyes widen, this was the opposite of fine, “I’m going to see how Riri is doing.”

And with that Luna walked down the hallway to find the other woman.

“Riri,” Luna called out. The woman couldn’t hear the fact she was banging on sheet metal.

“It's Vibranium, Luna! It's like Shuri doesn't even care!” Riri shouted as she placed the hammer down, “And we're supposed to be the bigger person about this? We're ALLLLLLWAYS the bigger person!” Riri stressed she continued to mumbled to herself “Well, not this time! Not—about—this!”

Luna look at a woman as she took a deep breath, “Maybe you should talk to her about it. Like how it makes you feel?”

Luna wouldn’t say she greatest in the love/ relationship department but it can’t be that complicated with friendship right? Riri turn to her as she pointed her index finger at Luna, “You’re right, Luna!”

Riri and Luna went back to the lab that Shuri was in. Riri took a deep breath so she could totally express her feelings about the situation. Luna made it sounds so easy, so it cant be that hard right?

“Oh good you’re done with tantrums,” Shuri said lightly. Luna sucked her teeth this won’t end well Moongirl thought as she saw Riri’s eyes narrow, “Excuse me?”

Shuri sighed, “Why can’t understand you forgive Bucky?”

Riri shook her head, “Why can’t you accept that Bucky was in the wrong?”

Shuri getting tired of the conversation raise her hands trying to clean her hands from the conversation. The royal began to walk up the staircase, “You can’t stay mad at Bucky forever. Be reasonable.”

“Oh you think you’re soo mature,”Riri lifted her eyebrows, “You wanna bet?”

Shuri sighed, “This conversation is going nowhere. Maybe we should cancel this whole thing.”

Luna’s heart cracked as she heard that statement, she slammed down the wrench that was in her hand. Cause the pair to look at the young girl, “Luna.”

“I was really looking forward to working with you guys all week!” Luna started, “All you guys have been doing is arguing non stop!”

Shuri gasped as she turn to Riri, “We made you feel like you weren’t important. I keep thinking four steps ahead and forgetting to tell you. I know everything will turn out fine, but you don’t know that..” Shuri felt her eyes glazed with tears, “N- no wonder… you think i don't care!”

“Shuri, “ Riri said as she saw tears coming out of Shuri’s eyes, “No, no no no no no no no! This is all my fault! I-I didn't want to look for a solution, I-I just wanted to be mad! Y-You're right! You're always right! I was being stupid!” Riri took Shuri’s hands. The royal looked at her girlfriend, “I don’t think you’re stupid!”

Riri didn’t give her a side remark, she focused on wiping the tears from her love’s face, “You think I’m not upset about it?” Shuri questioned. Riri stared at her as she continued to explain herself “ I just wanted to do the right thing.”

The pair looked at each other. They never had this bad of an argument before. To Shuri, she would rather not have another one with her love forever.

“Do you know what happens next when a couple argues?” Riri asked. Shuri wrapped herself around her love, “What?”

“The makeup sex,” Riri responded as she placed soft kisses on Shuri’s throat. As much Shuri would love to continue it Luna, who had her eyes closed, was standing right there, “Riri, later. There’s a minor present.”

“You better keep that promise, Kitten,” Riri said softly.

“Luna,” Shuri choked out putting some distance between her touchy love, “How about we get back on focusing on improving your gadgets?”

“And after we get done with that we should totally do movie night,” Riri added. The woman knew she would have to call the girl’s parents before she could stay overnight at the research compound.

“Like a sleepover?” Luna squealed out. She couldn’t believe her ears, her two idols wants to hang out with her!

Riri nodded giving the girl a high-five, “Yes a sleepover.”

Tag list: @xblackreader @pantherheart @mal-urameshi @somethingcleaverandwhitty

#ao3 #fanfiction #shuriri #riri williams #shuri x riri

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inkvvvells · 10 months

Text

galaxy on fire - prelude (thrawn x original female character)

Title: galaxy on fire Pairing: Thrawn x OFC Rating: M (eventually) Warnings: violence, torture, blood (eventual mentions of past assault, slavery. eventual sexually explicit content) Other Things: Enemies to friends to lovers, SLOW BURN, both the Empire and Rebels suck, touched starved, competency kink… I don’t know what else lol Summary: Born into slavery on the Outer Rim, Celena thinks she finally has a surefire plan to buy her freedom from a Hutt crime family. But everything goes wrong when she’s caught by Imperials and accused of being a Rebel and just when she thinks things can’t get any worse she meets a certain Grand Admiral…

Note: This may or may not be the start of a longer fic. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now and I haven’t posted fic in YEARS because normally I don’t want to post anything that’s not finished and I don’t finish anything but… idk. Here I am, lol. I like the idea of someone just trying to exist in this galaxy with no ties or love for either side. I know that most fic on here that people want is x reader fics but as I sometimes tldr introspection I don’t think I can pull that off for an x reader fic because I don’t want to tell anyone how to feel lol. So enjoy I guess, maybe I’ll write more. I might also rewrite this bc I’m not happy with it. I just wanted to bang this intro out and see what happens so… BASICALLY I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!!

Note 2: Also I realize that this is like confessing to sins but I haven’t read the new Thrawn trilogy. I am an expanded universe girlie and I have never emotionally recovered from them axing all of that. I’ve based this Thrawn mostly off Rebels with the EU in the back of my mind. Will I read those books? Maybe? I know Zhan wrote them and I trust him but I am a bitter, petty, salty bitch SOOOOO. There will likely be some references to things and characters from the EU (most likely Mara Jade and Thrawn’s reasons for joining the Empire). Sorry not sorry. If when I read the canon books I may incorporate parts of that. IDK.

Note 3: Also I pictured Deepika Padukone as Celena. But feel free to picture her however you want.

Note 4: I don’t really like this title so it will likely change.

—

PRELUDE

“I will ask you again, Rebel Scum,” Governor Pryce’s voice was cold as ice. “Where are the Rebels who sent you?!”

Celena’s ears were ringing and her vision was blurry. They had been like this for hours, with her strapped to a gurney and Pryce torturing her and yelling, demanding to know who sent her. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so painful, the fact Pryce was so convinced that Celena was with the Rebellion when in fact she hated the Rebellion.

Almost as much as she hated the Empire.

Celena had been caught trying to steal a weapons cache just outside of the Imperial base on Lothal. The most curious thing about it was she had been alone. It was daring to be sure but it raised the question of who sent her. She was human, late twenties with brown skin and long almost wild dark hair. She would have been beautiful if she hadn’t been strapped down and covered in blood and grime.

“I already told you,” Celena raised her head to look up at Pryce. Her head was throbbing from the gash in it and she could feel blood trickling down her cheek. “I’m not with the Rebels.” “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Pryce leaned closer to her.

“I don’t care what you believe,” Celena winces. “It’s the truth.”

Pryce sighs overexaggeratedly and takes a step back. “There are other ways of making you talk,” she gestures to the IT-O hovering in the corner of the room. “I simply wanted to give you the opportunity to say it on your own terms.”

“Wow,” Celena rolls her eyes. “How generous of you. With all the torture I totally missed how nice you are.”

Pryce’s nostrils flare and she hits the button controlling the shock treatment, sending another course of electricity and pain through Celena’s entire body. Celena tries to hold back her scream but fails and her scream seems to only make Pryce more excited. Almost like she was getting off on this.

“I’ll give you one more chance or this is going to get very painful for you,” Pryce says menacingly. “Where are the Rebels who sent you?”

Celena can tell Pryce is getting annoyed and she can’t help but be amused by that. A smirk tugs on her lips one that seems to make Pryce even more annoyed. “Do your worst.”

Pryce snarls, she’s about to bring over the IT-0 droid when the doors to the room slide open. She freezes when she sees who has entered the room. “Grand Admiral,” Pryce tenses slightly.

“Is this the thief?” Thrawn says, not even looking at Pryce, instead his attention is on Celena.

Celena doesn’t say anything, she just looks at Thrawn. Her eyes narrow slightly as he moves to stand in front of her. She doesn’t seem impressed or scared of him.

“I was just about to use the serum on her,” Pryce replies.

“You’ve been questioning her for hours Governor,” Thrawn is still looking at Celena. “And she has yet to break. Perhaps you are losing your touch.”

“I just need more time Grand Admi–” Pryce is cut off by Thrawn raising a hand to silence her.

“You are done here Governor, you may go,” Thrawn says dismissively. Pryce bristles slightly, for a moment it looks like she’s going to protest but then she leaves. Celena chuckles weakly. “Ohh… she didn’t like that,” Celena muses. “No,” Thrawn says. He continues to stare at Celena, as if he’s trying to figure out who she is just from looking at her. “If you’re going to torture me I’ve had worse…” Celena winces as she raises her head to look up at him. She’s realizing now that unlike all the other Imperials he isn’t human, she makes a slightly confused sound. “Something amuses you?” “You’re …not human.”

“How observant of you.”

“And you’re with the Empire? …why?”

Thrawn raises a brow. It was curious to him that this woman would think to ask that when she was the one captive, she was the one being tortured. And yet she was curious about something that to him was trivial in this moment.

“What is your name?” Thrawn asks instead of replying.

It was a question that Pryce hadn’t bothered to ask her.

“Celena.” “Celena. No surname?”

“...no.”

“Are you a Rebel?” “Your friend seems to think so.”

“Governor Pryce has a tendency to be… overzealous in her methods,” Thrawn leans in closer to Celena, as if he’s studying. “Is that what you’d call it?” Celena scoffs slightly. She feels uneasy under the gaze of his glowing red eyes. She’s met Chiss before so it wasn’t his eyes that unnerved her it was something about the way he was looking at her.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” she asks.

Thrawn tilts his head. “Thrawn.”

“...your actual name.”

Thrawn pauses a moment. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she repeats. She doesn’t seem to struggle saying his name as most humans would. There is barely even a hint of an accent as she says it.

Thrawn is surprised but he doesn’t show it. He doubts this woman is with the Rebels. The Rebels wouldn’t have sent someone to do something so risky alone. Which made the question of who she really was all the more interesting. He moves to the side of the gurney Celena is strapped to and presses a button, the straps retract and the suddenness of it sends Celena falling to the floor. She hits the floor hard and groans softly.

“Bring her to my office,” Thrawn finally looks away from her, focusing on the Stormtrooper standing by the door. “I will question her there.”

Thrawn leaves the room, leaving Celena on the floor. Every part of her body aches, now that she’s on the ground it even hurts to breathe. This hadn’t gone how she hoped it would. And inwardly she feels sick. She had been so sure her plan would work she hadn’t really thought of the alternative. Or maybe at this point, she didn’t care. Getting caught by the Imperials was no worse than what she had to go back to. The Stormtrooper yanks her roughly off the floor. “Get moving Rebel Scum!”

***

Thrawn watches Celena as she uses a damp cloth to wipe the blood off her face. When she got to his temporary office he had a cloth with a bowl of warm water waiting for her as well as food. There was something different about this woman, something he found intriguing. And since torture hadn’t made her talk, he would try something else - something less crass than the interrogation droid.

“Do you always stare,” Celena asks, lowering the cloth so she can fully look at Thrawn. “You aren’t a Rebel,” Thrawn says simply. “That much is obvious.” “To you,” Celena replies, her eyes going down to the food. “It’s not tampered with,” Thrawn tilts his head. “That would defeat the purpose of bringing you here.”

“Why am I here then?” Celena lowers the cloth. There is still blood on her face. It’s dried and it’s itchy on her skin but that feels like the least of her concerns right now. What she needed was a way out here.

Thrawn doesn’t say anything right away. “I must say I’m impressed you withstood Pryce’s torture. Most would break under such duress.”

Now Celena is the one who is quiet she looks at the plate of food - basic bread, likely from those portion packets she had gotten so accustomed to eating.

“I take it you have met my kind before,” Thrawn says.

“Once,” Celena replies. She doesn’t want to elaborate on that. Instead, her attention goes to the few art pieces in the room.

Even if this was just a temporary office for Thrawn before he went back to his ship he liked to be surrounded by art. He had made sure to bring a few pieces with him, after all if he was going to be here for any length of time he needed something. He had brought one of Sabine Wren’s paintings with him, it made sense considering the Ghost crew’s ties to Lothal. And it would give him more time to study it, to understand it – to understand the Rebels.

Celena begins to wipe at the blood and grime on her face again, moving the damp cloth down to her neck. Thrawn watches her, he studies her. With some of the blood removed there really is no denying she is beautiful, it wasn’t attraction just a simple fact. He squints slightly as she wipes away the dried blood from her neck, there is a mark there…

“I know you are not a Rebel, Celena,” Thrawn stands up and moves to stand behind her chair. He leans down, putting a hand on Celena’s head to move her so he can get a better look at it. “What are you–” Celena tries to pull away from him. “This mark,” Thrawn stares at it. It isn’t just a mark, it’s a brand. “You belong to the Hutt Cartel.”

Celena pulls away from him, dropping the cloth and standing up. From the way she pulls away it’s clear she doesn’t like being touched. She crosses her arms over her chest as she glares at Thrawn. “And if I do?”

Thrawn straightens and puts his hands behind his back as he looks at her. “The Hutts would not be foolish enough to send you to steal from us and considering how you still have that brand,” he pauses for a moment. “Did you think you could give them the weapons cache in exchange for your freedom?”

Celena moves her arms tighter around herself. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose it does not,” Thrawn takes a step closer to her. “At least not to most of the Imperials here.” “You’re Imperial.”

“Yes, I am.”

For a few moments, they stood there, staring at each other. Something about the way Thrawn looks at her makes Celena’s skin crawl and soon she has to look away. Instead of looking at him she turns her attention to the painting in the corner of the room.

“You like art?” Thrawn asks.

Celena says nothing, she takes a few steps closer to it as she takes it in. The shapes, the colours, they all seem to have meaning and for a brief moment she feels a pang of jealousy. This artist had a story. A purpose. Thrawn watches her, her reaction to the piece makes him more curious about her.

It was hard not to be curious. Besides… she could become useful later. Connections to the Hutt Cartel, connections to the Outer Rim.

“This was painted by a Mandalorian,” Thrawn moves so he’s standing next to her.

“This is a story,” Celena says, still looking at the painting. “I doubt you’re supposed to have this.”

“I like to collect art from my adversaries,” Thrawn says. “It allows me to understand them better. Their motivations.” “I doubt the artist likes you have this then.”

Thrawn almost chuckles. “No, I doubt she does either.”

Celena turns to look at him then, her brow furrowed. “So what are you going to do with me then?”

“I am going to give you a room, with a proper bed,” Thrawn replies. “You will stay here until I decide what to do with you.” Celena’s mouth opens to say something. “Do not mistake this for kindness Celena. I am merely deciding how useful you could be to me. Until then you will be locked in a room. I suggest you don’t try to escape.”

Celena stares at him, there is something almost menacing about the way Thrawn says that. She knows if she tries to escape he won’t stop whatever will happen to her. It also seems clear that he knows she has nothing to escape too. Go back to the Hutts or stay here and just wait and hope that she may have a better outcome.

She didn’t have a choice. So she forces a smile.

“With Imperial hospitality, how could I refuse?”

Thrawn smirks.

#thrawn x oc #thrawn x ofc #thrawn fic #star wars fanfic #star wars oc #!mine #thrawn x celena #star wars expanded universe fic #thrawn eu

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dreaminonao3 · 1 year

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I'm a day early but I have the time and I don't have the patience, so...

Day 7 -- Use the words: small town, bar, jukebox

Starstruck (AO3)

Puente Antiguo, 2011

Darcy Lewis looked over the list of songs on the jukebox at the one and only bar in town. Almost all of them were older than she was, but she always did like oldies. She settled on “The Last Time I Felt Like This.” Growing up with a Johnny Mathis fan rubbed off on me, she thought as the familiar song started.

“Care for a dance?” a male voice asked from behind her.

Darcy turned to see a man she didn’t recognize smiling at her. With the town being so small, she knew all the locals by face, if not name, but this one was a stranger to her and she immediately had her guard up. “Sorry, I don’t dance with strange men.”

The man chuckled. She had to admit he was good-looking – tall, thick dark brown hair with bangs falling lazily over his forehead and gray streaks at his temples, a mustache and a short beard that came to a point, and cheekbones any supermodel would kill for. His pale blue eyes held a hint of sadness alongside the mirth that went with his killer half-smile. With his pale skin and all-black clothes, he looked like a handsome modern goth.

“Oh, we’re not strangers, though I’m definitely Strange,” he said.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “We know each other? I find it hard to believe – Puente Antiguo isn’t known for its goth scene.”

“Right,” he said, chuckling again. “Let’s just say we don’t know each other yet, but we will.”

“Uh huh,” she muttered, rolling her eyes at his pick-up line. “In what universe?”

“This one, of course,” he said, obviously enjoying himself. “One dance, Darcy. That’s all I ask.”

“The song’s almost over.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” He held out a hand. “Please?”

Oh, what can it hurt? “Fine,” she sighed then she took his hand.

He led her onto the small dance floor and pulled her close enough to place his hands at her waist as she placed hers on his shoulders. They started to slow dance shortly before the song ended only for it to start over again.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Did you pay for more plays?”

The man chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Uh huh. What’s your name?”

“Stephen.”

“Just ‘Stephen?’ No last name?”

“Strange.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not strange to ask someone for their last name.”

He sighed heavily. “No, my name is Stephen Strange.”

“Oh. You must’ve been teased mercilessly when you were a kid.”

Stephen smiled a bit and she had to admit she liked his crooked smile. “My nickname in high school was ‘Odd,’ my classmates thought themselves hilarious.”

She had to admit it was funny. “Okay, Stephen, what’s your deal? You’re not from here.”

“Just passing through.”

“Uh huh, so you decided to just chat up the first single girl you see at the bar?” She wasn’t annoyed, not really, just curious.

Stephen chuckled. “I told you, Darcy Lewis, we will know each other well.”

She stared at him. “I never told you my last name. Come to think of it, I didn’t tell you my first name either.” She lowered her voice. “Are you stalking me?”

“If I was, I certainly wouldn’t admit it,” he said, his voice just as low and frankly, a lot sexier. “In all honesty, we’re going to be everything to each other in a few short years.”

“Should I be calling you ‘Nostradamus?’ I doubt you’re any more accurate than he was.”

Stephen grinned at her, a full grin, and her stomach did a little flip. “I don’t need a prophetic vision to know what will happen between us.” The song ended and didn’t start up again, which Stephen seemed to take as a cue. Taking her hand, he led her out of the small bar and into the relative privacy of the parking lot.

As always, Darcy gazed up at a sky full of more stars than she had ever seen in her life before turning back to him. “If you want to kiss me, you’re gonna have to wait until Date Number Two.”

Stephen chuckled, the sound doing something nice to her nervous system. “Actually, this is Date Number 58, but who’s counting?”

“You’re making no damn sense, you know,” she said, her tone almost fond.

He smiled a bit. “I know, but you’ll understand in time. I should go back.” He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Until next time, Darcy Olivia Lewis.”

She stared at him for a heartbeat then sighed. “Oh, fuck it. C’mere.” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss, which he was happy to give.

New York, 2022

Dr. Darcy Lewis looked up from her e-reader as her fiancé appeared in the room. The grin he gave her was contagious. “I take it it worked?”

“You tell me,” Stephen said as he sat down beside her on the couch and took her free hand. “Do you remember running into me in New Mexico?”

Her eyes widened with realization. “Yes! We danced to ‘The Last Time I Felt Like This’ then you kissed me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Your memory is faulty if you think that’s what happened – you kissed me.”

“You started it, showing up looking all sexy then asking me to dance and kissing my cheek.” She moved to straddle his lap. “That was risky, you know. You could’ve gotten stuck in the past.”

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. “I wanted to see you as you were back then, at the start of your love for the stars.”

“And if you couldn’t come back?”

Stephen smiled a bit. “Then we’d be married for at least nine years by now, if not more.”

Darcy smirked. “You think you’re that irresistible, do you?”

“I know I am, at least to you.”

He was right, of course, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, she simply murmured, “Kiss me.”

“With pleasure.”

#marvel's what if #doctor strange #doctor strange supreme #darcy lewis #mysticshock #supremeshock #stephen x darcy

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veteran-fanperson · 1 year

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A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

My very first AbhiSquared fic. Read on AO3 here.

He’s sitting with his laptop in front of him on the rickety table, an empty word document open. No words come to him, and he stares at the blinking cursor in some despair. It’s an uncomfortably warm afternoon, and there’s hardly anyone in the café. Ram takes a sip of his coffee and sighs, looking away from his laptop. He flushes slightly as Abhi catches his eye from behind the counter and grins, the other man’s dark brown eyes flecked with spots of gold.

Ram hurriedly turns back to his laptop, and chews his lip in frustration. He really should go somewhere else to work, as all he ends up doing is casting longing glances at Abhi whenever he’s here.

Ram had stumbled into The Wide Awake Café on a rushed Monday morning nearly a month ago. He had overslept and forgotten his umbrella, and true to form, it had started to rain heavily. He had ended up racing across the green to reach the only shelter he could see, handwritten story notes in his backpack. It was a small, old-fashioned café, filled with the smells of good coffee and banana bread. There were vintage wooden chairs, a couple of worn armchairs with plump red cushions, and a large, comfortable looking sofa to the side. Low hanging lamps glowed over tables, illuminating the red and gold geometric wallpaper flatteringly.

He hadn’t made a pretty sight as he entered, his clothes damp with the rain, the jeans flecked with mud, his hair completely wild. Cold and wet, he had made a beeline for the counter for a well-deserved cup of coffee.

“Hello there, what can I get you?” a gruff voice asked as he fiddled with his backpack, too impatient to sit down before checking on his notes.

“Just a large coffee will do, thank you” he mutters, huffing in relief when he sees that they’re all dry.

“That will be three pounds fifty”

He reached for his wallet to draw out the money, and promptly felt his heart threaten to jump out of his chest when he saw the barista.

The young man was about his age, with dark brown hair, neatly trimmed beard and sharp, brilliant eyes. He was dressed in a plaid red shirt and jeans, with a green apron that complemented his eyes, and a name tag that said ‘Abhiram’. His hands were large and calloused looking as he took the money from Ram’s suddenly limp fingers, and his beautiful full lips curved into a smile as he told him to go and have a seat.

Ram could positively hear his sister Indu’s voice in his ear as he tried to speak, to not let this chance go by.

Oh hey, nice name. Same as mine. Do you think we have the same number too?

Ram felt the words come up to his throat, but all that came out was a dazed “Uh huh”.

Yes, brilliant work, you idiot. Spoken like a true lit student.

But he had stumbled into an empty armchair nonetheless. His heart was pounding so much harder than when he was making a run for the café, and one look at Abhi’s broad shoulders as he turned away told Ram why.

He had started coming to the café almost every free day since.

He does mean to ask him out. When he gets the right opportunity, that is. Abhi’s generally too busy for anything other than a smile; the café is almost always full. He’s just mustering up the courage to stand when the door bangs open and Indu walks in.

Ram suppresses a groan as his sister spots him and swoops in with a loud “Rammmmmm!”

“Indu” Ram says morosely, as Abhi looks curiously over at them both.

“Yes I know, you’re so excited to meet me, but calm down” Indu says, rolling her eyes.

Indu refuses to live with him like she promised their parents when they both got into the same University, and when she’s not throwing loud, raucous parties that go on till the wee hours of the night, she’s raiding Ram’s kitchen. But she’s family, and Ram has precious few of those.

“Oh so that’s why you’ve been out of your dingy apartment lately. Have you asked him out yet, or have you just been staring at him moonily like a creepy stalker all these days?” Indu quips lightly, catching a glimpse of Abhi.

Ram feels his whole face heat up.

“I don’t know what-”

“He’s delicious Ram; you always did have great taste in men, even though they always ended up straighter than a flag pole. I’m tempted to ask him if you won’t.”

“I’m not - ”

“Hey there, Ram” Abhi’s rough voice interrupts, and he smiles warmly at him “Can I get you two anything?”

Ram feels the blood rush to his ears as he hurriedly slams his laptop shut.

“No. Thank you I was just leaving and-”

“But Ramuduuuuu” Indu catches his wrist and pulls him, making him stumble “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your gorgeous friend?”

“I’m Abhi” the barista says, saving Ram the trouble of answering. His voice is unusually cold and forbidding.

“Charming. I’m Indu, Ram’s sister. A very concerned sister, I might say. He almost never used to leave his apartment before, claiming he needed to work in peace.”

“I’ve been working here” Ram interjects desperately, wanting to flee.

“Really?” Indu says, injecting that one word with a great deal of scepticism, “Because from what I see, all you’ve been doing is staring at this lovely young specimen. By the way, isn’t there something you wanted to ask him?”

Ram wants to kill her. His parents wouldn’t really mind, especially if he prefaced the news with pictures of Indu’s apartment mid-party.

“What do you do?” Abhi says kindly, ignoring Indu and turning his warm brown eyes to Ram. There’s a small smile on his face.

“I - ” he’s panicking.

Indu has a wicked grin on her face as she sits back, watching Ram’s red face.

“I uh, am an artist” he babbles, “I um, I thought you looked like a good model and uh- I wanted to ask, um- Sorry”

Abhi stares at him, and for one second, Ram thinks he sees disappointment on his face. Indu looks stumped for a beat, before breezily blustering ahead.

“That’s just perfect. Ram here is a fantastic artist, but he’s always been too shy at approaching people to be his models. He pays really well too, and it’s just a few hours of your time. What do you say, Abhi?”

Ram just gapes at her in dismay while Abhi hesitantly agrees. Indu quickly scribbles down his address and phone number while Ram stands there like an idiot.

“Evening today then?”

“My shift finishes at seven” Abhi says, worrying his full lower lip with his teeth.

The door opens and two girls come in, prompting Abhi to attend to them. Indu claps his shoulder and smirks at him, before jauntily waving goodbye and breezing out, leaving Ram in the biggest mess he’s ever been in.

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT?” Ram screams later at an unimpressed Indu.

“I was not the one who made up such a ridiculous lie, Ram. Don’t blame this on me”

“I was going to ask him. I had a plan”

“Which was going just swimmingly I’m sure. I gave you the perfect opportunity, you were the one who put your foot in it”

Ram deflates.

“What am I going to do?” he mourns, head in his hands.

Indu takes pity on him.

“Cheer up, Ram. In fact, this is perfect. You get to leer at him to your heart's content. Just make a rough sketch of him and seduce him afterwards. By the time he gets your pretty lips over his dick I doubt he’ll care about your little white lie”

She neatly sidesteps the punch Ram aims at her.

“Don’t screw it up Ram.”

“So you’re working on a fine arts degree then?” Abhi asks him as he enters Ram’s apartment. He’s dressed simply in a white cotton button up and khakis, and looks devastatingly handsome.

“No. No” Ram says, waving his hands around like a moron, steering Abhi in.

“No?” Abhi looks baffled.

“Sorry, it’s just I’ve never done this before - I mean. I mostly sketch - um - landscapes. Not portraits. But I wanted to sketch you. Not that that’s why I’ve been in the cafe. That was for homework. Not Art - Well -” He gestures helplessly and luckily Abhi takes pity on him and lets the matter drop.

There's a long awkward pause where they just stand there, in Ram’s hastily tidied living room. He begins to wish he had brought some snacks or some soda or tea or anything.

“I don’t have to take my clothes off or anything right?” Abhi asks him finally.

“No.” Ram says again. He seems incapable of saying anything else.

Abhi looks uncomfortable.

“So, what should I do?”

“Just - ” Ram says, gesturing to his favourite red armchair. Words seem unwilling to come out of his big stupid mouth.

“Just sit down? Is that okay?”

“Yes. I’m just sketching the uh- initial draft today” Ram mumbles, sitting across him and grabbing an empty notebook and some pencils. He had only his writing pencils on him, and it had been too late to run out and buy anything else after he had finished with his panicked attempt to clean the apartment.

Ram stares at his page helplessly, and begins to draw. He doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to go about this.

Abhi looks around his apartment with interest while Ram tries to valiantly sketch Abhi’s head, but even after multiple attempts it looks like a wonky balloon. He doesn’t have a real eraser either, the cheap one on the back of the pencil only serving to make the paper dirtier.

“You have a lot of books,” Abhi says, breaking the silence. His voice is smooth and mellow like melted butter.

“Yes, I’m actually a wri-” Ram catches himself before he finishes, “Um. I like reading”

“That’s great. Who’re your favourite authors?” Abhi asks him.

Normally this is the sort of question that would make Ram talk volumes, but he’s too busy trying to not make Abhi’s fingers look like misshapen twigs.

“Lots of them” he answers vaguely, chewing on the end of his pencil.

"I see a lot of classics." Abhi says. He picks up Ram’s much battered copy of Tess of the d'Urbervilles.

"Uh-huh" Ram responds tensely as he studies Abhi again, not meeting his eyes.

Abhi makes a few other remarks, but Ram's only half-listening to him and incredibly nervous, so he grunts a few monosyllabic replies. There's a heavy silence after Abhi gives up, broken only by the scritch scritch of his pencil.

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you” Abhi says, prompting Ram to look at him in alarm.

“No, you’re not, really. I’m sorry. I just-”

“Need to concentrate I suppose” Abhi finishes for him. He looks disappointed and tired.

Ram nods, feeling his chances at ever asking Abhi out evaporate with every awkward minute. He never should have lied. He never should have listened to Indu’s stupid advice. An uncomfortable half an hour crawls by before Ram finishes, and puts his pencils away.

Abhi stands up and stretches, refusing politely when Ram nervously suggests a coffee.

“No thanks, I’ll just head on home. Have a nice evening.” Abhi’s voice is curt as he turns away.

He’s leaving. He’s leaving and you’ll never see him again. You’ll never find anyone else even a hundredth as amazing and you’re going to die alone in this apartment.

“Some water at least?”

Abhi turns around, and whatever he sees on Ram’s face makes him pause. “Okay.” He sits down again, and gives Ram a small smile.

Relieved, he runs to the kitchen, trying to find his best glasses. He can only find a Garfield mug, and pours some water, slopping it a little and cursing. He’s just about to walk back into the living room when he sees Abhi reach for his book. And flip it open to the page with his drawing.

There’s a silence.

Ram feels his heart sink right down to his shoes. Even someone who knows nothing about art can tell that that sketch was absolutely terrible.

“I’m sorry” he blurts, as Abhi looks at him, his face frighteningly calm and cold.

There’s a long pause before he hurries on. Best to rip the bandage out fast. Best case scenario Abhi leaves, disgusted. Worst case scenario he’s actually straight and would probably spit at Ram before storming off and applying for a restraining order.

“I’m not an artist. I’m an English Lit student. I lied to you because I uh- I’ve been coming to the café because I wanted to ask you out and my sister was just trying to make me say it and I panicked and I lied and I’m just really, really sorry”

He’s just about to die of mortification when Abhi begins to laugh. He drops the book and laughs long and loud, tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks. Ram stands there staring at him, confused.

“Oh god, Ram, you’ll be the death of me, I swear” Abhi gasps after ten solid minutes of cackling, standing up and catching Ram’s eye.

“I don’t -” Ram begins, but is cut off by Abhi striding towards him and kissing him firmly.

He sucks in a startled breath as Abhi wraps his arms around him, his heart thundering in his ears. Abhi pulls away after a minute, smiling gently at Ram and squeezing him a little harder. Ram blinks at him dazedly, his lips tingling from the kiss.

“You’re adorable” Abhi says, his beautiful eyes alight with mischief.

“I’m really not,” Ram says, breaking the embrace to pick up the book. He’s about to tear the page with the sketch when Abhi snatches it off him.

“I’m keeping that” he says, as Ram tries to snatch it back.

“Abhi, please, it’s so embarrassing”

“It’ll make a great visual to our story about how we met, don’t you think?” Abhi says, cutting off his protests by grabbing him and kissing him again, so deeply that Ram’s head begins to spin. They stumble into the armchair together, with Ram in Abhi’s lap.

“So” Abhi says, a little later, panting against Ram’s mouth, “Coffee sometime, me and you?”

“Yes”

#Abhi X Ram #AbhiSquared #rrr #my fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

natsfirecat · 3 years

Text

Bring You Back

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem reader

summary: r and nat have happily been together for over a year, until everything comes crashing down. now, nat and the avengers will stop at nothing to get back the r they know

genre: angst w happy ending

word count: 10k

warnings: swearing, cheating, mind control/brainwashing, setting things on fire, Supergirl references, two sentences that could potentially be interpreted as implied smut but that wasn’t my intention, lmk if i need to add any more

A/N: this is set in the same universe as Operation Fire Widow but you don’t need to read that to understand this!

also this is kinda proofread, and by that i mean it’s 2am and i read over it but i’m tired and not thinking straight so the proofread doesn’t really count

”I swear, if you two don’t get married then I won’t believe in love anymore,” Carol said as she sat down on the chair across from you and Natasha.

You smiled as you felt your girlfriend’s arms around you tighten.

Carol couldn’t help but smile proudly at the two of you.

You had been together for a little over a year, but you had been crushing on her for months beforehand. Carol, being one of your best friends, had been part of the big plan created to get the two of you together. Things didn’t end up going as planned, but of course it all worked out in the end.

“Does anyone want a blanket before it starts?” Wanda asked as she entered the living room.

Carol and Peter both nodded at her, but Natasha simply shook her head.

“I have my blanket right here,” she whispered into your ear.

You grinned, then closed your eyes. You purposely used your pyrokinesis to heat yourself up to just the right temperature so your girlfriend could be warm.

She leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on your neck, causing you to giggle.

In the past year that you were together, Natasha evidently found out about your love for Supergirl.

It took some convincing, but eventually you were able to get her to binge watch the show with you so she could catch up to the live episodes.

“Y’know, you’re kinda like Kara if you think about it,” Natasha had told you. “You’re a happy little ray of sunshine, but you can also be a powerful badass when you want to,”

You smiled at her, giving her a quick kiss.

“I think you’re like Lena,” you replied, smiling at her. “You don’t have powers, but you’re still a badass and the team would basically be lost without you. You’re also super smart, and not to mention the fact that you both have gorgeous green eyes. Plus, you and Lena both act like you’re all dark and scary, but deep down you’re a softie,”

She rolled her eyes at the last sentence, prompting you to giggle before kissing her once again.

“So if I’m Kara and you’re Lena, then that means that you have reason to ship Supercorp now!”

“I already ship them, detka.” She told you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Lena clearly makes her smile a lot more than Mon-El ever did. I wish he never came back in the first place, but Lena did right by making the device that required him to leave Earth,”

“I’m so proud of you.”

Now, Natasha had caught up so she could watch the episodes live with you Carol, Wanda, and Peter.

The current season wasn’t great, but you had been watching it since the pilot of the show first aired and you certainly weren’t going to stop now.

“Damn it,” you heard Natasha whisper as William appeared on the screen. “I don’t want to see him,”

You smiled, then placed your hands over hers, which were currently resting on your lower stomach.

“He’s just taking up screen-time that should be going to Nia, or Alex or Kelly,” she said to you.

You nodded in agreement, softly rubbing your thumb over her knuckles.

You leaned back father into her, allowing her to place a few kisses on your head.

“I love you, Natty,” you said softly, looking up at her.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, unable to stop the smile on her face.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Carol said, pausing the show. “Do your little sappy couple stuff later, we’re about to get a Supercorp moment,”

You breathed out a chuckle, then turned your attention back to the screen.

After the episode ended, Natasha insisted on carrying you back to your shared bedroom because of how tired you were.

You nodded, allowing her to effortlessly pick you up and take you upstairs to bed.

Luckily, you had decided to wear your pajamas before going down for Supergirl, so you didn’t have to change now that you were as tired as you were.

She gently set you down on the bed, climbing next to you as soon as she changed into her own pajamas.

Her arms had become your home at this point. You scooted yourself closer to her, placing your head underneath her chin as you wrapped your arms around her.

A yawn escaped your mouth as you began to entangle your legs with hers.

“Natty?” You asked her, not quite ready to fall asleep yet. She nodded for you to continue. “When do you think Bucky’s gonna ask Steve out? I can tell he likes him. Maybe we should do something for him like my friends did with me last year,”

Her breath had hitched the moment you mentioned Bucky’s name.

“What?” You asked her, eyes opening wider now.

“I don’t think Bucky likes Steve,” she said. Not in her soft voice she normally used with you. But with her voice she used with everyone else.

“What makes you say that?” You asked, your smile faltering a bit.

“He just doesn’t,”

“And how would you know that?”

“Don’t worry about it, let’s just go to sleep.”

You backed away from her, raising yourself up so you were on your elbows now.

“Why are you being so defensive?”

“I’m not!”

“You are,”

“Y/N I told you, don’t worry about it!”

Her eyes had widened, and she almost looked afraid. And that made you afraid.

“Natty, what’s going on?”

She said nothing, but broke her eye contact.

“Natasha,” you said, your own tone changing a bit too. It wasn’t your happy, cheerful tone you had most of the time. It was the tone you used while on the battlefield, or during interrogations. “Tell me what’s going on right now.”

“I can’t,” she said at almost a whisper. Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to fall down.

“Tell me, or I’ll ask Bucky myself,”

“No, don’t!” She begged. “Please don’t! It didn’t mean anything! You’re the one I love!”

Your heart fell, as she practically confirmed your fear.

You were wide awake now.

“No,” you got out. “No it’s not true,”

You pulled yourself out of her grasp and got out of the bed. You sped-walked down to the end of the hall, Natasha following after you.

Your fists were balled so tightly, you were sure your nails would leave a mark; they were almost drawing blood.

You had to take a deep breath before knocking on his door, you didn’t want to set it on fire.

“Yeah?” He asked, opening it. His smile fell as soon as he saw Natasha’s tear-struck face.

“What did you guys do?” You asked shakily, looking between them.

“You told her?!” Bucky said angrily.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you said softly, your stomach already twisting. “It’s true?”

“I promise it didn’t mean anything,” Natasha cried desperately. She pulled your arm back, flinching at the heat radiating off of it, but she didn’t let go. “It was only once, we just had a bit too much to drink, and-”

You pulled your arm out of her grasp, already feeling the tears falling down your cheeks.

“When?”

“Two weeks ago,” Bucky answered, earning a glare from Natasha.

“Y/N, baby, please,” she said as she reached out for you again. “I love you, and I want you,”

You couldn’t even look at her.

Without another word, you made your way back to your bedroom. Not the one you shared with Natasha, but the one you had before you and her got together.

At this point you began to hyperventilate. You could hear the banging coming from the other side of your door, but you weren’t going to open it.

You lay facing down on your bed, letting the sobs escape as your breathing only got faster.

Before you knew it, the pillow you were clinging onto had completely caught on fire.

“Shit,” you said, shaking it to try to get rid of it.

Unfortunately, your grip on it only made it worse. So you tossed it onto the bed.

Bad idea.

Now the entire bed was on fire.

“Oh, fuck it!”

Luckily, Tony had used his nanotech to upgrade all of your suits. So with a tap to your watch, your fireproof superhero suit began to appear.

If you could smother the flames with something that wouldn’t catch on fire, maybe it could work.

It did not.

The fire alarm was now going off.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” you muttered.

You closed your eyes, holding your hand out to attempt to use your powers to put the flames out, but it didn’t work. You could still hardly breathe, and your vision was still blurry with tears.

Finally, you fell to your knees, letting out a scream that carried so many emotions.

When you opened your eyes, the flames were gone. Your hands were shaking, your chest was burning, and the fire alarm was still going off, but the flames were gone.

You let out a shaky sigh.

You stood up, ready to open the door, but you stopped yourself right before you grabbed the handle.

You couldn’t be here anymore. You wouldn’t. Not after what she did to you.

You figured you’d call one of your childhood friends, and stay with her for a bit. You two had always had one another’s backs, so you didn’t doubt that she’d help you.

You made your way back to the door, silently praying that no one would still be waiting.

You wish had half-come true. Natasha wasn’t right outside your door anymore, but she was down the hall heading toward you. It looked like she was carrying something to open your door, since she wouldn’t have been able to do it herself with the material it was.

You quickly broke eye contact with her, then dashed down the other end of the hall. You heard her footsteps, but you didn’t stop running.

“Y/N, please!” She called, finally catching up to you as you stood outside yours and her bedroom door.

“Get away from me,” you choked out.

You just needed to grab your phone so you could call your friend. You needed your phone so you could get away from the person who had caused you all the pain you were feeling.

You opened the door, wasting no time in finding your phone right where you left it on the nightstand.

Unfortunately, your eyes met hers as you turned back around.

“Please, let’s just talk about this! Y/N, I love you!”

“I wish I believed that.”

You brushed past her, leaving her stunned.

You couldn’t face anyone right now. Once you got to your friend’s place, you’d text your other friends and let them know that you were safe.

But for now, you exited the building without another word.

You were thankful for your fire powers at this moment. You could see your breath in front of you, so you knew it had to be cold for anyone without pyrokinesis.

Once you got far enough away from the compound (you knew you were far enough when you could no longer hear the fire truck that had automatically been sent over by F.R.I.D.A.Y.) you pulled your phone out, and scrolled through your contacts until you found your friend.

You clicked the call button, holding the phone up to your ear.

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up...”

The phone rang a few more times as you waited for her, but you never found out if she actually picked up or not; as you suddenly lost consciousness at the feeling of a blow to your head.

Part of you tried to fight whatever was happening to you, hearing the voices as your body was dragged around. But the other part of you thought about what Natasha had done to you. That part didn’t fight.

And that part won.

6 months later

”We have intel on a HYDRA base formed near here, responsible for multiple civilian casualties and experimentation,” Steve told everyone.

Natasha had been staring at the empty seat at the table, once filled with your presence.

“Nat,” Steve said to her, sighing.

“What?” She asked, being brought back to reality.

“Look, Nat,” he said softly. “We need you for this. We need the whole team.”

She said nothing, but nodded at him.

She had to restrain herself from shifting her gaze back to your empty chair. She also had to restrain herself from looking at anyone but Steve to avoid everyone else’s lingering glares.

Most missions didn’t need the whole team, but because no one had been to this base before, they didn’t know what to expect. Because of that, it was better to be prepared and have the whole team rather than risking a few people for what could be too much for them.

The base was only about 30 minutes on the Quinjet, so definitely within somewhat close proximity.

Steve sent Wanda and Natasha down first.

Neither of them said anything to each other. Wanda had hardly said two words to her at all since you left. She missed you, and she blamed her for your leaving.

Tony and Carol followed close behind.

Natasha held her gun at her side, holding it up at every corner they passed.

Of course, she wasn’t really thinking about this mission, or about HYDRA.

She was thinking about you.

She was thinking about how you would go out of your way to hold her hand while she was nervous on missions. She didn’t get nervous until you.

Before you, she never really felt that she had a reason to be nervous.

But once she was with you, she would always get scared that she wouldn’t make it back to you, or you wouldn’t make it back to her.

Even after you left, her nerves didn’t go away.

With her powers, Wanda could sense Natasha’s anxiety. She was pretty good at hiding it, but her thoughts were loud enough for Wanda to tell otherwise.

They rounded the next corner, making their way into a room filled with computers.

“We’re in,” Wanda said through her earpiece.

Natasha made her way to one of the computers, and began to type away to get what they needed.

If she hadn’t been the cause for you leaving, Wanda, along with the team in general, would actually feel bad for the assassin. She hardly went on missions anymore, unless they absolutely needed her.

She could hide her emotions when people looked her straight in the face, but they all knew that she had been miserable since you had left.

Before you, she didn’t smile very often. When she did, it was usually just a small grin. But once she was with you, she couldn’t help but smile almost all the time around you. She wouldn’t hesitate to fully smile with you, especially when you were always smiling at her.

“Oh my god, Natasha,” Wanda said, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “For just one second, could you stop thinking about…”

Natasha perked up when she noticed that Wanda didn’t finish her sentence.

She turned around to see what she was looking at, causing her jaw to drop instantly.

“Y/N…”

“Let go of me!”

“No! I don’t belong here!”

“What did you do to me? Why can’t I use my powers?”

“Get away from me!”

Your cries echoed through everyone’s ears as you were restrained in a small cell.

Your plan was to burn the two redheads before they could get HYDRA’s important files, but they had failed to inform you that one of them had powers too. Except her powers allowed her to constrict you in mid-air as you fought against her.

She eventually put you into some sort of trance, so you wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.

You weren’t sure why everyone was looking at you the way they did, but you figured it had something to do with them being Avengers.

In your months as a HYDRA agent, they always warned you of the Avengers. They said they couldn’t let you get anywhere near them.

You weren’t sure why, I mean, you could literally control fire with your mind. Had you been paired against anyone other than the redheaded witch, you would’ve easily won.

“Y/N,” came the voice of Captain America.

“That’s not my name. I don’t know who Y/N is,” you replied, sending him a harsh glare.

“Y/N, we know this isn’t you. We’re going to do everything in our power to get you back,”

You scoffed,

“This is who I am. Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with? Especially since you haven’t even given me the liberty to be able to defend myself, by taking my powers,”

He sighed,

“We’re not going to kill you. Tony designed this cell to counteract abilities like yours. It’s not doing any damage to you, but you won’t be able to use them. We can’t allow you to have your powers while you’re like this,”

“Then just fucking kill me!”

He sighed again.

“I’m going to leave you in here for the night, but we’ll be back tomorrow,”

He waved goodbye, and even gave you a small smile.

You weren’t sure why he did it, but you only glared back.

“I can’t do it, Clint,” Natasha said, pacing around in circles.

Clint was the only one who didn’t completely shun her and shut her out after finding out what happened. Part of him wanted to, but he knew she needed somebody. Even if it was just one person. And if that one person had to be him, then so be it.

“You don’t have to do it now, especially since she’s not… the Y/N we know. But you can’t avoid her forever.”

“She left me. For all we knew, she could’ve been dead. She made no contact, she clearly didn’t want us to find her. I thought…. I thought she was gone forever. But now HYDRA has her, and it’s my fault.”

“Nat, you can’t blame yourself for this. Her abilities are unique, so it’s not surprising that they would target her like this,”

“It is my fault. If I hadn’t… done what I did, if I hadn’t been so fucking stupid, she wouldn’t have ran off like that. She wouldn’t have been taken.”

“You’re right, you were fucking stupid. But you didn’t cause HYDRA to take her and mess with her mind. That’s on them, not you,”

She shifted her gaze to the floor as tears began to form in her eyes.

“I’ve missed her so much, Clint,” she said, her voice breaking. “I wish I could take it all back. I wish it never happened. I wish I could just hold her in my arms and never let go,”

He took a step closer to her, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as she began to sob.

Just then, Steve began to make his way back, passing the kitchen.

“Anything?” Clint asked as he walked by, still holding Natasha close as she continued to cry.

Steve gave a solemn look, then shook his head no.

When he saw the way Natasha was crying, he felt a pang of sympathy for her. Yes, she had broken the heart of one of the nicest, and overall universally liked person, but he couldn’t help but want to comfort her in this moment. She was once his friend too.

Instead, he continued to the meeting room to consult the rest of the team and inform them of your state.

Steve kept his promise about returning. He was only there for a few minutes before Tony Stark stood in front of your cell.

He looked like he was about to throw up.

“So,” he began, stepping forward. “Do you know why you’re here, any of this look familiar to you?”

“God, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you’re really fucking stupid,”

“Look, whatever HYDRA’s told you isn’t true. They’re filling your head with lies. Both literally and figuratively.”

“Sure they are,”

“Well then why don’t you tell me what all you remember of your life before HYDRA?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug. “But that doesn’t mean they’re lying to me. They’re the ones who gave me my pyrokinesis, which you took from me, but the memory loss was a side effect.”

“They didn’t give you your powers, Y/N, you got them when you were a sophomore in college. Freak accident with something that wasn’t supposed to be in your chemistry class, but it ended up working out for you. You became an Avenger two years ago,”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me Y/N.”

“Fine then. What would you like me to call you? What name did HYDRA give you?”

“I don’t have a name. I have an identity.”

“Alright then, what’s your identity?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Cute. Alright, that’s enough for now,”

He left you. It seemed you had annoyed him enough.

No one came by for the rest of the day.

Well, that’s not entirely true. One person, who looked like he was just a kid, stopped by to slip food through the tray.

“Here you go, Miss.”

He didn’t call you the same thing Tony and Steve did. You were grateful for it.

But as soon as his eyes met yours, they instantly filled with tears and he ran out.

You had always been well-liked among all the Avengers, but Tony began to have a soft spot for you when you became friends with Peter. You were a bit older than him, but you always acted like a big sister to him, and thought of him as your little brother. Soon enough, Tony began viewing you as a daughter figure.

He didn’t like the idea of Peter going in there with you, but he was outvoted when the kid volunteered to bring your food.

He knew he was right when he saw him running back, rubbing his shirt against his eyes to wipe away the tears.

For the next week, it became a routine. Steve and Tony would come by, and try to get you to talk, but ended up just going in circles. You were beginning to wish they actually had killed you.

But after the first week, something changed. Two women walked in.

You recognized one of them as the redhead who used her powers on you, and the other was a taller blonde who looked vaguely familiar.

“What now?” You asked, sitting against the wall.

Neither of them made clear eye contact.

“You’re the one who suspended me in the air while your teammates fucking captured me,” you said, pointing at Wanda.

“We didn’t capture you, HYDRA did,” she told you.

“That seems to be a common theme going around, and it’s getting tiring. But you know what? Go ahead, tell me more about how they’re lying to me when they’re the ones who made me into what I am today,”

“We’re not here to talk about HYDRA,” Carol said, looking up.

“Oh? Well then by all means, do continue,”

She took a deep breath in,

“You were more than our teammate, you were our friend. So if you’re tired of us telling you that your life is a lie, we’ll tell you about your life here,”

You shrugged. You were bored. If what they said would keep you entertained, then you didn’t have a problem with it.

“I was the one who trained you with your powers. When we found you, you could hardly control them at all. You had run away from everything and everyone, trying to isolate yourself so you wouldn’t hurt anyone. The instant we saw you, we knew you were a good person. You had this look in your eyes-”

“Oh really?” You asked. “Where’s this look now?”

“Gone. Buried somewhere in your mind, along with the rest of your memories,”

You between both of them,

“Tell me why you’re really here,”

The truth was that Wanda believed she could somehow try to use her powers to get your memories back by searching through your head. She stood there, staring at you, trying to find anything that would show your old memories, but there was nothing.

If that wouldn’t work then it couldn’t hurt if they at least attempted to tell you a little bit more about your life here.

“I was there when you controlled fire for the first time, completely on your own. You were in control. You couldn’t believe it, but all I remember is feeling so incredibly proud of you. We kept working together, and soon, I was able to call you one of my best friends.”

You could see her crying, and you began to feel for her. You weren’t sure why; she was an Avenger. An Avenger who betrayed HYDRA nonetheless, but part of you wanted to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You instantly regretted it. You couldn’t let them manipulate you like this.

“When I joined the team, you were the most welcoming person here. You had joined just a few weeks before me, but I could tell that everyone already loved you. It didn’t take long for me to love you too.” Carol said, her eyes filling with tears too.

They had to be lying, but you weren’t sure why part of you felt such a pull toward them. It had to be part of Wanda’s mental manipulation. That was the only explanation you could think of.

“The boy,” you began. “If what you’re saying is true, I-” you stopped yourself. “Y/N, was also close with him, right?”

“Yeah,” Wanda told you. “You and Peter become close fast. You originally bonded over TV shows you both liked, which turned into a thing for the four, and eventually five, of us to watch together,”

You still didn’t fully believe them, but if hearing about your supposed life would entertain you, then you’d keep listening.

This pattern also lasted a week. They would come in for about an hour per day, and tell you stories about your life here.

They told you about the time Wanda decided to teach you guys how to bake. You decided that waiting for it to heat up took too much time, so you held the pan in your hands and heated it up with your powers. They ended up burning to a crisp.

They told you about the time all of Peter’s friends ended up being out of town for his school dance, so you agreed to go with him. Wanda and Carol had managed to sneak in as well, to check on the two of you but everything ended up being fine.

They told you about the time you tried to high-five Tony after a mission, and his suit registered you as a threat at first because of how you jumped up to meet him, so it ended up blasting you 20 feet.

They told you about how you once calmed down the Hulk and turned him back into Bruce simply by smiling and waving at him.

They told you about the time where Steve made a political comment, and you slammed your hand on the table and spent the next two hours educating him on important political topics. They said you had practically radicalized the man from the 40’s.

One day, neither of them came in. It was surprising, as you had actually begun to slightly enjoy their company. Slightly.

Instead, Peter came in. He looked a little less nervous than the first time, but he managed to look you in the eye.

“Y/N…” he said.

Your stomach turned as an idea popped into your head. It was a terrible idea, and would most definitely hurt him. But it would get you out of here. It would allow you to get out, and get back to HYDRA.

“Peter!” You said, perking up in a high-pitched voice.

“Y/N?” He was confused now.

“Peter, Peter, Peter! I remember now! It’s all coming back to me! We were friends! Close friends, you were practically my brother! I remember it all!”

You strained yourself to keep your face smiling and optimistic.

He turned his head to the side, thinking about it.

It had to work. He had to believe you so he would let you out.

“Peter, I remember going with you to your dance! Your friends weren’t there, so I went with you. We ended up having a great time, especially when Wanda and Carol made an appearance too!”

He reached forward, about to open the cell when he stopped himself.

He wanted to believe you so bad. He wanted his sister back.

“Tell me about the little boxes,”

This had to be a code of some sort. Shit.

The Y/N they were describing seemed to be a bit clumsy, losing control of her powers and getting blasted by Tony while trying to high five him. You could picture Peter being similar to that too.

“I tripped over a bunch of tiny boxes, and then you fell right after me. We ended up laughing about it for hours,”

He sighed, looking away from you.

The truth was that little boxes were a Supergirl reference. You and Peter were both generally optimistic people, so you had confessed to each other that there was a lot of pressure with that to keep up the team’s spirits. So when you both saw Lena talk about how she uses the little boxes as her coping mechanism, you both knew it was unhealthy.

Luckily, you came up with a healthy version. You both could keep up your optimism with the team, but you had a free pass with each other. Undoing the little boxes, if you will.

He couldn’t bring himself to look back at you. He couldn’t believe he almost let you trick him like that.

So he walked out without another word.

Tony was waiting for him, and immediately pulled him in for a hug when he saw his face.

“I thought she was back for a moment,” he said. “I thought we got her back,”

Tony let out a long sigh. No one could get through to you, not even your best friends.

They only had one option left now; Natasha.

“You can do this, Nat,” Clint told her.

It had been four weeks since you’d been in your cell. Over a week since anyone from the team tried talking to you. She was the only option left.

She didn’t want to do it at first, she still didn’t.

But Clint eventually convinced her. He told her that she owed it to you to at least try. Whether it be out of her love for you, or because she hurt you, she owed it to you.

He walked with her until they reached the door. From there, she had to go on her own.

She walked down the hall, holding her arms around herself.

She took a deep breath, then finally stepped in front of your viewpoint.

You sat with your back against the wall, eating the last bit of your lunch.

“Hey,” you said, giving a simple wave.

She tried to steady her breaths before looking directly at you.

“You were there when they took me back here,” you told her. “I remember. You were at one of the computers, and I was about to attack you and Wanda before she suspended me in the air and you guys brought me here,”

“Remember anything else?”

“No. Were you someone important? I thought they were done sending in all of Y/N’s friends,”

“We weren’t friends,”

“Oh?”

“I loved you. Part of me always will,”

“You mean to tell me that I pulled the Black Widow? Okay, now I know you guys are lying to me,”

“Peter, Wanda, and Carol were the ones who devised the big plan to get us together. They wanted to figure out a way for me to need your warmth, so you could be my personal heater. It didn’t go like that, and you accidentally burned me while we were dancing. Then I found out you liked me, and the rest is history.”

“You got with Y/N after she burned you?”

“First of all, I know you didn’t actually mean to burn me. Second of all, I had liked you for some time too. When we first met, I instantly felt this pull toward you. Your smile made me feel things I never thought I could feel. You always went out of your way to make me smile. I thought it was because you were like that with everyone; but as soon as I learned about your feelings for me, I couldn’t believe it. I called you down the next day to ask you out, and that’s when we had our first kiss,”

“Sounds great,” you said nonchalantly, knowing it hurt her. “But if you claimed to love me so much, why didn’t you look for me?”

Her breath hitched.

“Oooh, I hit a nerve there,” you said with a chuckle. “What? Did it happen in the middle of a fight or something?”

That’s when the reality of the situation hit her. Yes, she would do everything in her power to get you back, but would you still want her even when she did get you back? You were right, you had left because Natasha had broken your heart. How would she face you again once you remembered it all, once you remembered what she did to you?

So she changed the subject.

“Did the others tell you about your favorite shows?”

“They told me that we would all watch shows together, but didn’t give specifics,”

“Your favorite was Supergirl. I always thought you were a lot like the main character, Kara. You just had this sunshine in your eyes, just like her.”

“And now?”

“Well, I guess you’ll see once you get to the sixteenth episode of season one.”

“When I get to that episode? So you’re resorting to TV shows for my memory?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, which brought her even more pain.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind the idea, I imagine it gets boring for you in here,”

“No, no, you’re right, it does. Look, if you want me to watch it, I’ll watch it, but…” you burst into laughter again.

It was pathetic how the Black Widow was so determined to get her sweet little Y/N back.

But, you were willing to let her try. You couldn’t wait to see it crash and burn.

“You really think I’m like Kara?” You asked her the next day as she came to see you. “I’m five episodes in, and she’s the most annoying character ever.”

Natasha sighed. She’d get you back eventually.

“Look, I’m just saying that they could’ve made her more interesting. Like, she has the potential to do so much more but instead all she does is be giddy and fake quirky.”

The truth was, part of the reason you had loved Kara so much originally was because you were able to relate to her in a way because of your powers. She suppressed them for years, just as you had tried to, but eventually embraced them and became Supergirl. Even if it was fictional, it’s a big part of the reason you found the courage to learn how to use your powers and become an Avenger. And of course, you did happen to have a personality just like hers.

Now, all you could do was roll your eyes at the character.

A few days later, Wanda eventually came back. She had a few brownies with her.

“What’s this for?” You asked her.

“You wanted to surprise Natasha with something sweet after she came back from a mission, but you couldn’t do it on your own. You had already made three failed batches, so you knocked on my door at 2:00 in the morning asking for help. I wanted to say no, because I was asleep and didn’t want to get up. But I saw the look on your face, and I just couldn’t say no to you. So I got up and helped you make them. They ended up turning out, and Natasha loved them.”

“And you’re giving me this because you think it’ll jog my memory?”

“Partially, but it’s also because I still care about you, Y/N. Even while you’re like this, I know my best friend is in there somewhere. I made them, and it didn’t feel right not to try at least,”

You shrugged as she slipped them through the opening to give them to you.

You took a bite, and instantly closed your eyes at the taste.

“Oh my god, Wands, this is amazing,” you told her as soon as you swallowed.

She had the biggest smile on her face. Not because you liked the brownies, but because you called her Wands.

You were coming back.

Two weeks later, Natasha was making her daily trip to you. You smiled at her, happy almost happy to see her.

“God, Lena’s so pretty,” you said to her. “Her eyes are just perfection,”

Natasha let out a chuckle,

“Glad to see you still have an appreciation for green eyes,”

“How could I not? I really hope Kara gets with her,”

She laughed again,

“Come on, I have a surprise for you,”

“What?”

She smiled, then unlocked your cell door. You turned your head, giving her a confused look.

She stepped into your cell, holding a bracelet of some sort.

“As much as I’d like to fully trust you to take you outside of your cell, I can’t. So this replicates the energy in this room, keeping you from using your powers,”

You shrugged, then held out your arm for her to put it on.

Once it was secure, she motioned for you to follow her.

She led you through the compound, resisting the urge to grab your hand and interlace your fingers with hers. She knew you would come back eventually, and all she wanted to do was hold you in her arms when you did.

“Anything look familiar?” She asked with a hopeful tone.

You felt a pit in your stomach as you shook your head no. You gave an apologetic look, then continued following her.

She said nothing, continuing to lead you through the compound until she opened a door, leading up to the roof.

She gave you a smile, then turned her head toward a blanket and pillows with a basket full of food.

“What’s this for?” You asked as you sat down across from her.

“I dunno, I wanted to do something for you. You’ve been confined to that cell for so long, I figured it’d be nice to bring you up here,”

She reached into the basket, then handed you a peanut butter sandwich.

Her smile widened as you took a bite out of it, and you couldn’t help but return her smile.

She reached across, and placed her hand on yours.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately, starting to pull it back. You gripped it tighter so she wouldn’t pull back.

“It’s okay,”

You didn’t have your memories, but you knew that you and Natasha were a thing. It amazed you how the woman with a deadly reputation gave you such a soft smile.

Holding her hand felt familiar. It felt like home.

And you loved hated it.

“Why are you doing this, Natasha?” You asked her, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. “Don’t tell me it’s just another effort to jog my memory,”

She looked down at your intertwined hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

“Because I love you,” she said honestly. “You were my everything, Y/N,”

You smiled at her again, feeling fluttery nerves build up in your stomach.

So you muttered something in Kryptonian.

“What was that?”

She pulled away, staring at you wide-eyed.

“What?” You asked, disappointed she pulled her hand away.

“You didn’t learn that from HYDRA,”

“What are you talking about?”

“What you just said to me, it’s a made up language,”

“All languages are made up,”

“No,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s Kryptonian, from Supergirl. You and Peter taught yourselves the language from online websites. You always called me that after you learned it. You’re remembering,”

She grabbed your hand once again, then leaned in closer. You reached out and grabbed her other hand, so you had both of your hands connected to hers between the two of you.

“My beautiful sunset,” you said in English this time.

She leaned forward even closer, inches away from closing the gap between yourselves.

“Wait,” you told her, pulling back. “I don’t have all my memories, but I know that we were together.” She nodded for you to continue. “I also know that there was some sort of fight before HYDRA. I need to know what happened, Natasha,”

Her breath became shaky as she disconnected your hands,

“Not now,”

“No, I want to know. I need to know. Because as much as I hate it, I’m feeling something for you. But I don’t want to, especially if I don’t know what happened. So tell me,”

She took a deep breath in, then stood up.

“I think we’ve spent enough time here, let’s take you back,”

“No! Just tell me what happened!”

“Don’t worry about it, let’s just go back.”

“Why are you being so defensive?”

“I’m not!”

“You are,”

“Y/N I told you, don’t worry about it!”

“Natasha,” you challenged. “Tell me what’s going on right now.”

“I can’t.”

That was three days ago, and Natasha hadn’t come to see you since. You missed her.

You had continued to binge your way through Supergirl, almost finishing the fifth season.

“I killed my brother for you! For our friends, don’t you understand what you’ve done?” You quoted perfectly. It didn’t surprise you at this point. You had those memories, and they would show up. But you couldn’t think about any past memories, sometimes they just showed up; like this scene and like the Kryptonian.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you looked up to see a man you hadn’t talked to before,

“Ah, the Winter Snowman,”

“Winter what now?”

You laughed, turning your body to fully face him.

“I know who you are. HYDRA’s beloved Winter Soldier. I just think Winter Snowman is funnier. So, what brings you here?”

“I haven’t talked to you yet,”

“Why’s that? Did we not like each other or something?”

“We were friends,” he told you, looking at the floor. “Once, I was up in the middle of the night because of nightmares, and you happened to be up too for whatever reason. You saw me, and made me hot chocolate. When you saw that I wasn’t exactly okay, you hugged me until my breathing evened out and I was okay. After that, it became a routine for you to make hot chocolate every time I wasn’t doing so great. Sometimes we’d sit in silence, and sometimes I’d talk to you. But you were always there. I could always trust you.”

You smiled, realizing that you really were an incredibly nice person before HYDRA.

“So why haven’t you come to see me yet? Natasha’s been the most, except for the last few days. What’s been stopping you?”

He took a deep breath in,

“I came to apologize.”

“Apologize? What for?”

“I’m part of the reason this happened to you. I’m part of the reason you left.”

“Really? I thought that was Natasha. All I know is that something happened between her and me and she won’t tell me,”

“She did hurt you, through me if you think about it. I still hate myself for it. I’m so, so, sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what came over me, but all I know is that I would take it back if I could.”

“No. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m so sorry.”

He left as all the pain and emotion came to your chest. You could see your vision blurring as tears started to form.

“No,” you said softly, falling to your knees.

Your breathing got heavier as you practically crawled to the glass.

“Get me Natasha!” You cried, banging your fists against the wall. “I want Natasha here!”

Tears began to stream down your face as you continued banging. You weren’t sure how long it was like that, but she eventually came running.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. had alerted her that you were in distress and calling for you. She assumed you had somehow gotten hurt, especially since you were huddled on the floor.

She opened the door without hesitation and sat down next to you.

“I’m here,” she said gently.

“Tell me it’s not true,” you said, your voice breaking.

Her heart dropped.

“Tell me you didn’t make me think what we had was real, just for you to cheat on me with Bucky. Tell me you didn’t make me fall in love with you for it to be fake.”

“It wasn’t fake, Y/N. I did love you! I still do.”

You scooted away from her.

“Stop lying. Just tell me the truth; did you or did you not cheat on me with Bucky?”

She let out a few shaky breaths, feeling her own tears form.

“I did.” You let out a sob at her words. “I did and I regret it more than anything. I don’t know what came over me. All I know is that I want you and I wish I never did it,”

You let out a few more sobs as you cried harder.

Out of instinct, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around you as you sobbed into her chest.

“No.” You told her. “Get away from me. I don’t want comfort from the person who’s the reason for my pain.”

She nodded, wiping her own tears away.

“Y/N, it was the biggest mistake of my life. I’ll never forgive myself for it, but I still love you so much. You’re everything to me,”

You stood up, your harsh glare meeting her once again.

“You were right, Natasha,” you said to her. “I am like Kara. Because just like her, I gave my heart to a lying jackass. Get out and get away from me.”

You weren’t sure why it hurt so bad. You hardly had any of your memories together. But part of you knew that you loved her. Part of your mind never stopped loving her, even while you couldn’t remember her.

Sobs escaped your body as you held your knees to your chest. Natasha hated seeing you like this. She hated it even more so because she was the reason for it.

She wanted nothing more than to comfort you and hold you until you felt better. But she knew she couldn’t.

As she took a step toward the door, she glanced at you one last time, wondering if she truly lost you forever.

Carol came by to see you after she saw both Natasha and Bucky sulking.

Like Natasha, she had no problem entering the cell and sitting by you. Steve had advised everyone to keep a safe distance from you as your memories were still primarily HYDRA. He wanted you to fully come back just as much as everyone else did, but he couldn’t risk the safety of the team.

But as soon as she saw your red eyes and tear-struck cheeks, she could give two shits about Steve’s warning.

She sat down next to you on the bed, gently putting a hand on your back to let you know that she was there.

You practically jumped into her arms, allowing yourself to cry once more as you clung onto her.

You sobbed into her chest for a few minutes as she slowly stroked your back.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pulling away from her. “I think I might’ve ruined your shirt,”

She gave a soft laugh, then wrapped an arm around you.

“Don’t worry about it,”

“Why’d she put so much effort into getting my memories back if she knew I would find out and get hurt all over again?”

Carol sighed, gently squeezing your shoulder.

“I think part of her hoped, and is still hoping, that you’d forgive her,”

You scoffed,

“Once a cheater, always a cheater. Even if I remember everything, I’m not getting back with her. God, no wonder I left in the first place,”

“We were all worried about you, y’know. You left without a word. Tony tracked your phone, and found it shattered on the street a few blocks from here. We thought it meant you didn’t want to be found.” She told you. “If we knew you had been taken by HYDRA, we never would’ve stopped looking,”

“What happened while I was gone?”

“We all knew it had something to do with Natasha. She always acted like she was fine, but her eyes were constantly red and puffy. We also heard crying from her bedroom. A week or so later, she blew up at Bucky in front of everyone, so we all found out,”

“What happened then?”

“We hated them for it. We wanted nothing to do with them. I glared at Natasha any chance I got. How could she do that to you? I lost my best friend because of her,”

You let out a sniffle, then looked up at her to see that she had started crying too.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” you said, hugging her once again. “I don’t clearly remember it, I have bits and pieces. But I should’ve at least talked to you guys instead of leaving like that,”

“It’s okay. You’re here now, and I’m not giving up on you.”

A week later, to your own surprise, you had called for Natasha again.

Both Wanda and Peter had made individual visits to you. You were grateful for them as they hugged you tight.

Wanda had suggested that you talk to her one last time to get some closure. She also said that it could help with your memory.

You were reluctant to the idea at first, but eventually agreed as you realized that the memory process was getting you nowhere at this point.

So you stood by the glass, waiting.

When she arrived, she almost couldn’t believe that you wanted her there. She thought that maybe you just wanted to scream at her, but then she saw your calm and collected face.

“I only called you here ‘cause Wanda thinks getting some closure could help with the memories,” you explained right away. You didn’t want her thinking that you had forgiven her.

She nodded, biting her tongue to prevent herself from crying.

You pointed to the door, indicating that you wanted her to come in.

She nodded again, opening it and standing a few feet away from you, arms crossed.

“I just need some answers,”

“Okay,”

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes. You balled your fists, feeling your nails against your palms.

“Why did you do it?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Oh come on, you have to at least give me more than that,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I genuinely don’t know why I did it.”

“Then tell me how it happened,”

“Are you sure? You said that this could be helpful for your memories, but I don’t want this to cause you any more pain than you already have,”

“I’m sure. Just tell me,”

“Alright,” she let out a slow breath. “You were on your way back from a mission. I had been missing you, so I was staying up late so I could see you as soon as you landed.” Her voice began to shake, but you motioned for her to continue. “While I was waiting, I assumed I was the only one up. So I decided to pour myself a drink, since there was still about an hour and a half before you’d get back. Bucky ended up coming down a few minutes later, so I poured him a drink too.”

“Really? You’re using the drinking excuse?”

She didn’t reply to you, but continued anyway.

“Something didn’t feel right, physically. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I ignored it and instead focused on how I would be seeing you soon. After around 30 minutes, something really felt off. I was about to get up and try to do something about it, but he got up at the same time. One minute we were just standing there, the next we were kissing. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. I didn’t know why I was doing it, but I didn’t stop. After it happened, I felt sick about it; literally. My eyes had turned red, and I just felt so nauseous-”

“I remember that,” you interrupted her. “I remember you had red eyes and weren’t feeling good. I thought you had gotten a cold, so I took time off training to stay with you. Of course, it was just you feeling guilty about being a cheater,”

“I couldn’t face what I had done-”

You interrupted her again,

“Wait a minute, you said you had red eyes and something felt wrong while you were with Bucky, right?” You said, she nodded in response. “Did the drink taste normal?”

She shook her head no,

“It didn’t, but I didn’t really focus on that. I was busy thinking about seeing you again,”

“Who all has access to the drinks?” You asked, your heart rate quickening.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just, take me to the security room and let’s look at the tapes for around that time, but a bit before,”

She wasn’t sure where you were going with this, but she opened the door anyway.

“You’re not gonna restrain my powers?” You asked as you had made it around halfway down the hall.

She shrugged,

“I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me or anyone here,”

You returned her shrug, then walked ahead of her until you reached the security room.

Once you arrived, you smiled, realizing that you had made it there on your own from your memories of this place.

You sat down in front of a computer, and began typing away at the security tapes.

“There’s a missing one, a few hours before,”

She turned her head in confusion.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” she said, “Do everything you can to retrieve this file,”

“Right away, Miss Romanoff,”

“If I’m right then…” you began, but didn’t finish. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

A few minutes later, F.R.I.D.A.Y. found the deleted file.

You pressed play, showing what had happened that day.

The HYDRA agent had memorized everyone’s schedule. The majority of the most powerful Avengers were currently on a mission, and the others were training; so this was the window.

He had hotwired a car Tony had left at a bar parking lot, when he was too drunk to drive and had to be taken home by a taxi, and then forgetting about the car altogether.

The agent used this to pull in without security questioning it.

He made his way to the back of the building, then spotted a slightly cracked window. He used that as his opportunity, reaching his hands under to fully open it up.

Once he climbed in, he then went to the kitchen.

Due to training schedules and timing, it was likely that no one would be drinking tonight except for the target.

So he took the bottle, opened it, then sprinkled a powder into it.

He then closed it, and put it back where he left it before leaving the room and coming to erase his tracks.

“HYDRA’s told us about that powder before and the effects of it, it makes you susceptible to suggestion. They’ve modified it so they can give specific commands just from taking it.”

“So what does that mean,”

“They knew we were together, they knew I had powers. They knew I’d be devastated if you cheated, and hoped that maybe I’d leave.” You started, staring at her with a mixed expression. “It’s starting to come back to me, the fire alarms had gone off that night. That was their signal that it had worked, and I was hurt. They took that to their advantage, and found me in my devastated state and took me.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

You smiled. It was the same smile you used to give her before everything happened. You took a step toward her and cupped her cheeks.

“You didn’t cheat.”

Your moment was short lived as you instantly fell to your knees, hands around your head.

Everything was coming back to you now.

“It’s pathetic, and never gonna happen!”

“Oh come on, you guys aren’t gonna actually freeze the room, right?”

“Oh my gosh, um- it’s not what it sounds like! I promise, it’s-”

“You should watch Supergirl with me,”

“Can you not go easy on your girlfriend during training?”

“Of course I’ll be your personal heater,”

“Natasha… I love you. I really do. It’s okay if you don’t wanna say it back, but I thought you should know.”

“My beautiful sunset,”

“You’re my home,”

“Natty,” it was the first time using that nickname since you’d been back here. “Natty, I remember everything now,”

She bent down to you, running a hand through your hair.

To say she was relieved was an understatement; she had just found out that the biggest mistake of her life wasn’t even her fault, that she didn’t betray you like she thought she had. And, the love of her life had finally completely come back to her.

You instantly began crying, leaning your forehead against hers, wrapping your arms around her neck.

Without thinking, you crashed your lips onto hers. It wasn’t a pretty kiss by any means; it was desperate, and wet with tears. But neither of you seemed to care.

“I love you so much,” you said between kisses. “I’m so sorry for everything I said to you.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know, no one did,” she wrapped her arms even tighter. “I love you too.”

If either of you had been thinking straight, you would have alerted the team that you had gotten your memories back and didn’t need to be locked up anymore.

But you weren’t. All that was on either of your minds was making up for lost time.

She picked you up effortlessly, holding you tight. You wrapped your legs around her waist, keeping your lips on her skin.

She carried you all the way back to her (and now yours once again) room.

Once she set you on the bed, she reconnected your lips in a messy but meaningful kiss.

She crawled on top of you, planting kisses everywhere.

“I love you,” you told her again.

“And I love you,”

And those were all the words either of you needed right now as you continued showing each other just how much you loved and missed one another.

Hours later, you lay on the bed completely wrapped around her. Your face was buried in her neck as your limbs tangled with each other.

You both shot straight up at a knock to her door.

“Natasha,” came the voice of Steve. “Y/N’s missing.”

“About that…” she said. “There’s a lot I need to tell you guys.”

She hopped off the bed, keeping her hand connected with yours.

You met Steve’s worried eyes when she opened the door, tightening your grip on Natasha.

The conversation with the team ended up going well. Everyone apologized for how they had been toward Natasha and Bucky after learning that it wasn’t their fault.

And of course, they were ecstatic that you were back.

Carol, Wanda and Peter, ran toward you and all tried to hug you at once, resulting in a dog pile. Eventually, everyone else joined too, only making the pile bigger.

You met Bucky’s eyes, and gave him a smile. He seemed relieved, then smiled back at you.

The rest of the day, everyone continued making sure you were okay, and Tony had already started a plan for finding that HYDRA agent.

Bruce wanted to do a checkup, which you agreed to. Natasha held your hand the entire time, which made it a lot harder for him to do what he needed to. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to stop. You had both suffered so much these past few months, so if you wanted to hold hands right now, then so be it.

“Y’know,” Natasha began, pulling you into her lap. “We haven’t had a proper date in so long. Obviously it’s too late to go anywhere, but we can have a night in and watch last week's episode of Supergirl if you’d like. I haven’t watched it since the last time, and I really have missed my favorite blanket. So, what do you think?”

You turned around, kissing her instantly. It was a long, deep, needed kiss. You couldn’t get enough of each other now that you were back.

Once you pulled apart for air, she smirked at you.

“So I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x fem reader #natalia alianovna romanova

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Competition - Bakugou Katsuki - Victorious Inspired

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff(ish), Crack, Jealous Bakugou, tatted Bakugou Cuz we love a lil spice

Summary: You were doing homework online with your friends when a needy Bakugou wanted your attention and was pouty when he didn’t get it. After Mina slipped up and said something stupid, Bakugou assumed horrible things and went over only to find out something so very comical.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

You were in your second year of college and the work was killing you. Thankfully, this time around, your assignment was the slightest bit easier, as it was a group project. You, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina were currently working on the project through the computer while being on video chat. The night was still young and you still had plenty to do.

“Okay, after I type in this paragraph, what should the next section be abou-“ You were cut off by the sound of a little French bulldog barking and scampering your way. The cute little black dog jumped onto your lap and made itself comfortable, causing you to look down and smile at it before petting it’s ears.

“Awww, look at the little puppy!” Mina said.

“He’s cute, right? I’m watching him for my neighbor while he’s at his football game.” You explained.

“You live next to a football player?!” The pink girl exclaimed.

“I do,” you said with a smile.

“Figures. I live next to an old man who likes to throw lemons at me!” She ranted. The group all laughed at her before continuing the job.

You all worked and finished about 4 pages of the assignment. While in the midst of the 5th page, your boyfriend requested to join your video chat. “Oop, hold on. Suki’s asking to join.”

You added your junior high school sweetheart to the call and was met with a frustrated pout. “Hi babe!” You squealed.

The group all tried to say their greetings to their friend but he spoke before they could. “Where have you been?”

“What? At home.” You said.

“I’ve been calling you, texting you, and basically blowing up your phone, and you haven’t been answering for hours!” He whined. His friends got a small kick out of seeing their tough friend be a softie for his girlfriend and remained quiet to enjoy the show.

“Sorry. I’ve been doing homework and-“

“What is that? Why do you have that animal on you?” He interrupted and asked as he slanted his eyes towards the small canine.

“It’s my neighbor’s dog,” you said with a pitched voice as you cradled the pup closer, almost like you were defending it’s honor.

“Her neighbor, the football player.” Mina mentioned with a sly voice. You shut your eyes and released a slow sigh as you knew what was coming.

“Football player?!” Bakugou shouted.

“Why? Why would you say that?” You said to Mina with a disappointed tone. She was one of his friends, she knew what the reaction would’ve been.

“Sorry,” she genuinely said.

“Why are you doing favors for some football player and what is he doing for you?” Bakugou seethed.

“There’s nothing going on, he’s just-“

“I’m coming over there.” He blatantly said.

“No- no. You don’t need to-“ without letting you finish, Bakugou signed off and went to get ready for his leave. You sighed at your jealous boyfriend and threw shady eyes towards Mina.

—

Some time had passed and your group had finished the 7th page. Almost done! Thank god for this being a small little assignment. Unfortunately, your boyfriend’s little fuss put you all behind schedule a little and it didn’t help that he finally made his arrival to add a little more drama to the show.

A bang was heard at your door. “Open up Y/N!”

“Uhh, I think you’re getting robbed Y/N.” Kaminari said.

“Nah, it’s just Suki.” You said to the blonde through the screen. You then turned to your front door to speak to your boyfriend who was on the other side. “You’re being ridiculous!”

Bang! Bang! Bang! “I need to talk to you!” He said.

“Sorry, door’s locked!” You replied. Unfortunately, the door busted open and you sighed in frustration. “And now it’s not.”

“He has a key?” Kirishima asked.

“No, he has a foot.” You said and then turned to your boyfriend with a sarcastic but also genuine smile. “Hi baby.”

And now here stood your angry boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki. He was dressed in his combat boots, a pair of black jeans and a white tee. He held a dark green bomber jacket in his hands that he wore due to the slightly cold weather out in the night. With the jacket off, his fully tatted arms were exposed along with the few tattoos that adorned his neck. He had his silver chain on along with a few rings and his cross piercing on his left ear and a few other random ones on his right. To anyone else, your boyfriend looked like a ruffian especially with his motorcycle that was surely parked out front. He definitely was an attractive man. Girls wanted him, guys wanted to be him, and you felt so blessed to have him and have him want you and only you.

He looked like the typical bad boy who was mean as fuck and also happened to be good at everything he did. In reality, he was just your Suki who was a softie that can be a little tempered at times. Like right now.

“What is going on?!” He asked in frustration.

“You just kicked my door open!” You said as you pointed to the evidence.

“Put the dog down and tell me about this football asswipe who lives next door!” He demanded.

“No! I will not put the dog down!” You said, cradling the sweet baby even closer.

“Oh you’re not?!” He said in a threatening tone but you knew your boyfriend would never do any real harm.

“No! If you want to meet the football player then you can wait to talk to him when he gets back.” You said.

“Then I’ll wait for him!” He said, taking a seat a little bit behind you from your setup on the couch’s ottoman.

“Fine!” You said, turning back to your friends. After a second, you realized something and turned back to face him. “No kiss?”

He only stuck his tongue out at you to which you pouted in anger and did the same before turning around. However, you smiled once you felt him come up from behind you and place a peck on your cheek before going back to his spot on the couch.

“Awwww,” your group of friends cooed to which you and Bakugou both smiled and rolled your eyes.

—

Some more time passed and eventually, Mina and Kirishima both grew too tired (thanks to that college schedule) and signed off for the night. Surprisingly, Kaminari was the one who stayed up with you to continue to do the work and was more than happy to help.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” You said to the electric blonde.

“And me.” Your boyfriend said with sass in the background of your screen.

You and Kaminari continued to work until you got to the 15th and final page. Like what was previously said, very easy, very simple, very short. All you had to do was finish this last page and you’d be done! Unfortunately, the universe had different plans and an expected knock was heard at your door.

“Ouu, is that the football player?” Kaminari cooed and teased knowing Bakugou would hear.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Come in!” You kindly called.

“Yeah, COME IN!” Your boyfriend rudely said, setting himself up to sit a little straighter and look a little meaner.

To his surprise, in came a young boy who was dressed in his school representative hoodie and a pair of sweats. “Hi Y/N!”

“Hi Ryu!” You said to the young boy who took a seat next to you. “Katsuki, this is my next door neighbor, Ryu. Ryu, this is my boyfriend, Katsuki.”

“Nice to meet you mister!” The boy said with excitement as he looked towards your “scary” boyfriend in the back.

“Hello Ryu.” Your boyfriend said in a defeated tone that he hid with a smile and wave towards the little boy. You smirked at your boyfriend as you recognized his tone. The tone he usually had when you proved him wrong. Ryu being the sweet boy he is also waved towards your friend at the camera to be polite.

“What’s up little man,” Kaminari said as a greeting. Ryu turned to you to pick up his little frenchie.

“Thanks for taking care of Natsu!” He said sweetly.

“Anytime kiddo!” You said, giving him the dog. Ryu pet his pup for a second before looking back at Bakugou and whispering to you. Luckily, it was loud enough for Bakugou to hear.

“Your boyfriend looks really cool!” He whispered excitedly.

“I know!” You whisper-yelled back with a smile. Kaminari let out a little laugh while Bakugou had a sad face. He felt guilty for wanting to come here to beat the shit out of a football player, only for that football player to be a cool lil kid who thought he was pretty cool too.

“Well thanks again! Bye now!” Ryu said before getting up and leaving with his dog. You waved at them until the door shut, you crossed your legs and smiled as Katsuki got up with a sigh and took Ryu’s seat next to you.

“Wow Bakugou, looks like you got some competition!” Kaminari teased. Bakugou only sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand before feeling you push on his shoulder.

“You gonna say you’re sorry~” you teasingly asked.

“You didn’t tell me he was 9!” He argued.

“You didn’t give me a chance!” You laughed out. Bakugou flopped onto his back as he began bantering with you. You both went back and forth and Kaminari chuckled to himself before signing off to let the cute couple have their time in privacy.

Bakugou remained on his back until you poked his face and he grabbed you before flipping the both of you over so that you were under him. He flopped down onto your body, getting comfortable on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair in a successful attempt to soothe him.

“Just wanted some attention from my baby.” He muffled out with a small blush. You smiled and looked towards your screen.

“Well Kaminari signed off, Natsu’s gone, and it’s just you and me. You now have my undivided attention, Suki.” You said. Bakugou sighed in content before going up to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good.” He said before tucking his head into the crevasse of your neck. You held him close while he played the small spoon and you both cuddled up nicely. If it was attention he wanted, it was attention he’d get.

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo.

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy.

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships.

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate.

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?”

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise.

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum.

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed.

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks.

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.”

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you.

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is.

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support.

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle.

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this.

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway.

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you.

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck.

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal.

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw.

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship.

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.”

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him.

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it.

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought.

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble.

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later.

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again.

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding.

Both of you looked ridiculous.

“Stay away, fiend.”

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you.

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t.

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible.

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself.

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring.

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time.

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes.

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you.

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again.

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst.

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm.

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying.

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again.

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment.

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you.

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up.

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech.

“Suppose that’s two points for me?”

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something.

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him?

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know.

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again.

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

973 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

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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