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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface.

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion.

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan.

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way.

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness.

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up."

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though."

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong.

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up."

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives.

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over."

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly.

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners.

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort.

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day.

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot.

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated.

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself.

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could.

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind.

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn.

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre.

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor.

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened.

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you.

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress.

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands.

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment.

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night.

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed.

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band.

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor.

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused.

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval

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sunshinesukuna · 4 years

Text

codename: agent k

✯ pairing: spy!kuroo x reader

✯ genre: flangst

✯ tw: guns, mentions of assassination and organized crime.

✯ summary: you’re a spy trying to capture a mysterious person by the identity of “agent k.” who would’ve thought you’d be catching feelings instead?

✯ inspired by: 特務J (Agent J) - jolin tsai, goodnight n go - ariana grande, my oh my - camilla cabello

✯ nnyeyeahahldalsalsa i feel like a british royal after writing this omggg. and hey, crossover pt. 2! worked really hard on this, so i hope you like it!

Venice, 22:16 CET (GMT+2)

The stench of the rich was never as pungent as this moment right now. Wine glasses caught the twinkling shine of the diamond chandelier above as the people below mingled with one another. Ornate masks decorated with all manner of feathers and rhinestones obscured the identities of the rich elite atendees.

You had to give it to the organizer, the party was sort of fun. You would have definitely joined in, if you hadn’t had a job to do. By the grace of the government’s connections, you had managed to score an invitation. Not without intention of course. You weren’t here to get drunk and bathe in jewels, no.

The Fukurodani Syndicate was a group of organized crime groups that converged into one, taking the name of the original syndicate. They consisted of Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Karasuno. With new leads coming in over the course of several months, the government had reason to believe that one of the leaders of the Syndicate would be here. His name was Agent K, and he would be your target tonight.

“Ah! Marie!” a voice called out from behind you. You did a double take. But you remembered that you were not (Y/N), you were a woman named Marie Sourice.

The invitation you had obtained was addressed to a French businesswoman named Marie Sourice. The real Marie would have no clue that she was invited to the event, much less that someone had gone in her stead.

So you turned around and smiled graciously. The organizer of the event was a stout old man that had a taste for the Venetian arts of mask making. Thus the masquerade theme. Despite all the obscured identities, the man was easily recognizable through his booming voice and his name tag that read “Giovanni.”

“Giovanni!” you called out, doing your best to match a French accent. Giovanni gave you two kisses on the cheek.

“’Ow ‘ave you been, my old friend?” you asked. Giovanni replied with a bubble of laughter and something that couldn’t register in your ear because you were transfixed with the tall figure next to him.

“Meet the son of a good friend of mine.” The figure came to a halt right next to Giovanni. “His name is—”

“Mr. Bakugou Katsuki.” The figure’s voice was deep with a ringing timbre that would suit an opera singer. You eyed his wild black hair. Was this Agent K? Agent K was never really one to disguise himself in any of his little encounters. But the mask and the lavish clothes made it hard to tell. Something warm landed on your hand. This man was kissing your hand.

“Mademoiselle,” he said. Mysterious ebullience danced in his eyes. Perhaps there was more emotion in his face, but his bejeweled mask hid it all. Secrets danced in between the garnets like they did in a sinning man’s heart.

“He works in the IT industry,” Giovanni said. “Who knows, maybe you two could strike up a deal, grow your companies,” he cupped his hands around his lips, “light a new flame.” Giovanni’s show whispering was awkward at best. You flashed both of them a reluctant smile.

Giovanni took a look at his sparkling golden watch that did not go with that mask of his. “Look at the time! My other guests shall be arriving soon.” He turned over to Bakugou.

“Shall I leave you two alone? The music will start at twelve o’clock. I assure you, no Cinderellas will be here.”

“Of course, sir,” Bakugou said.

This man is Agent K, a voice speaks in the back of your mind. But the others tamper it down as reason takes over. Agent K was a fast worker, and any objective of his should be in the process of being fulfilled, or is already fulfilled by now. Was this man just having fun with you? Or was he part of a larger plan?

But time only confirmed your suspicions. He talked exactly like Agent K, he moved exactly like Agent K, he even smelled like Agent K. The same poison that laced Agent K’s words dripped off the ones from this man.

“Miss Sourice?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Bakugou?”

“Have you ever experienced a first love?”

“I—” You catch yourself as you are about to answer. “Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?” Amusement crawls up his face, but there are hints of longing, and perhaps... mourning?

“It was... unlike anything you could ever imagine.”

Your job as a spy was to lie, lie, lie all the way through. But your words dripped in pure candor as old memories came flooding back.

Tokyo, 13:00 JST (GMT+9) 9 years prior

The air was rich with the scent of chocolate and sugar. He set his bag down near the couch and followed the source of the scent to the kitchen. You were stooped over the counter. A tray was set over to the side filled with chocolate covered strawberries drizzled in more chocolate.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asks. He swoops in for the catch, to find himself firmly rebuffed by a swat on the wrist.

“Hands. Off! I. Put. My. Blood. Sweat. And. Tears. Into—” Each word is followed by a fist on his back. He shields his body with his arms from the raining torrent of ruthless punches.

“Ow! Ow! Stop it, you violent woman!” You don’t stop. With each playful punch, you corner him over to the couch, where he collapses in defeat. You sit down next to him and take off your apron.

“You started it!” you said.

“Didn’t I earn it?” Before you know it, he’s suddenly on top of you. His warm breath, mixed with the heating inside the house. draws sweat from your skin. He cocks his head to the side, as if challenging you. Your shoulders rise up from the couch at the provocation, but he pushes them back down to the soft leather ever so easily.

“Miss Second Place,” he whispers, lips oh so close to your ears. You gasp at the reminder of your devastating defeat to him last week during finals. That’s enough. You raise your hips up from under him. But he’s faster and stronger than you. As your knee rises up to kick him, he shoves them down with immense force. He reasserts his position above you.

“Besides, it’s Valentine’s tomorrow,” he says. You sigh. Even if you gave him just one, there would be no guarantee that he would stop at just one.

“One. Just one.” you say. He pulls himself off of you and sashays over to the kitchen. Keeping an eye on him is pointless, but you do have to finish decorating the rest of the strawberries anyways. He makes it a point to exaggerate his gestures and facial expressions. You want to slap him all the same.

He notices your irritated face. “I wasn’t going to give any of them to you,” you say.

“Oh? Then who are they for?”

“People that are not you.” He lets out a groan and puts a hand over his heart.

“I’m hurt,” he complains. You roll your eyes as he buckles to the ground in pain, holding his crotch.

Osaka, 21:00 JST (GMT+9) 8 years prior

The dingy motel’s lights blinked from inside your room. Water dripped down onto the tiled floors as you closed the door. The roar of the torrents of rain enveloped Osaka. Which is what led you to take shelter in this motel for the night.

It seemed a little shady, since the only room you both had been able to get was one with a small queen bed. And that was ok, actually. There was a whimsical feeling about running through the streets in heavy rain, troubles washed away like dirt on the road. What you weren’t keen on was the person that you would be sharing that bed with.

“I call dibs!” he shouted. He dropped his luggage to the ground as you collapsed on the couch. Your wet hair was splayed out on the couch, turning it soggy. Sighing, you got up and decided to make yourself comfortable.

He didn’t take long to shower. Steam came out of the bathroom, shrouding the shirtless figure that walked out of it. A soft white towel rested around his neck, and another sat on his hips.

Six years of volleyball could do wonders to a man’s body. Muscles cultivated from the sport finally found their place in the limelight of your eyes. You could feel your mouth water a bit. A sheen of sweat started forming on your temples.

He saw your reflection in the mirror in front of the bed. “Like what you see?” he asked.

You scoff and roll your eyes as you continue taking your stuff out of the luggage. The bed groans under his weight as he sits down.

“I’ve seen you shirtless a lot of times before,” you said. At least that was true. You think back to bathing together as kids, putting gauze on his chest when he got into a fight. “I’m okay with it, why shouldn’t I be? It doesn’t gross me out.”

There is a loud bang, and now your body is sandwiched between the wall and his body, still dripping with water from the shower. He doesn’t smell any different than usual, but your nose cannot help but pick up the soft tangs that make up his scent. Sweat. Grilled salted mackerel pike that he loved so much. The orange flavored hotel soap.

Common sense is screaming for you to keep your eyes on his, but the wonder that is his body after puberty lures you in deeply. His smoldering gaze locks you in place in between his arms.

“Do you not see me as a man?”

The question is short, but it encapsulates everything going on between you two. “Am i still the kid that pushed you off your bike back in 2nd grade? You still see me as a kid?”

Did you? A small inkling inside of you said yes — the same part that would cry when pushed over the edge and still couldn’t fend for herself. He would forever be the bumbling kid that knew no better to that part of you. The other voice said the opposite. You could only stare blankly at him as your heartbeat got faster every second.

“Would you like for me to see you as a man?” you asked. He cocked his head to the side.

“Yes.” No one dared move an inch. The atmosphere was Pandora’s box, ready to be opened and the evil inside unleashed.

He lowered his head so that his lips were on the same level as yours. His breath tickled your nose. “May I?” he asked.

Without giving him an answer, you pressed your lips onto his.

Venice, 23:34 CET (GMT+2)

“Shall we dance?” he asks.

He’s cunning, not even giving you anytime to think. He’s pinched you in between the incoming stream of guests. Either you’re forced to carry out this twisted dance with him, or risk losing all your leads on him.

“Why of course, I love to dance!” You swear your brain is on autopilot right now. His hands are suddenly on your waist and shoulder. The music starts.

The light of the chandelier reflects red figures on his face from the garnets on his mask. His smile and eyes are the only windows to his mind, and even those are kept shut with a lock of mischievousness.

The conductor raises his baton. Like a well-oiled machine, the dance floor becomes alive. It’s a dizzying array of whisks, twists, and turns. Fortunately, this Kozume man has enough grace to keep both of you on your feet.

“And who is this acquaintance, lucky enough to grace the heart of a man like you?”

“Her name is (Y/N) (L/N).”

That was all it took for you to confirm everything about this man. It was Agent K in the flesh, no doubt. He flashes you a smile from under his mask. To the sane person, it would simply look like a normal smile, but after years of running after Agent K.... you were sure that debonair smile belonged to him.

Making you feel like you have him cornered, then disappearing again. It’s a reiterating game of cat and mouse. You swore to yourself that you would end it tonight.

The music’s tempo changes. You’re suddenly thrust into the arms of another man in a mask. Agent K is just a few feet away from you, a new woman in his grasp. He shoots you a glance before continuing his dance.

But the trills of a flute breaks the silence, and he’s disappeared from the room. Classic Agent K. The woman that was his dance partner also looks around in confusion, but she is quickly distracted by what seems to be her third bottle of wine of the night. You swear you spot Agent K’s garnet encrusted mask on the other side of the room. But the cellos play their euphony again, and Agent K is gone.

You mutter a few apologies to your dance partner and stalk off. Agent K’s coattails flap in the wind as he turns a corner. His footsteps reverb against the wooden walls. They turn silent as he treads over the velvet carpets.

No one is in vicinity by now. The cheerful chatter was left behind in the ballroom, as your target leads you up a winding staircase. Whistling noises come from several flights above you. He knows you are here.

Paintings on the wall stare at you accusingly. Their eyes on you only accentuate the adrenaline that is building up in your bloodstream. You pay them no mind and fix your eyes on Agent K’s ascending figure.

The creak of a door alerts you to his sudden movement. Is he escaping into a room? But a gust of cold wind and the sounds of the city welcome you to the rooftop of the building.

The only source of light was a dingy bulb covered by moth eggs. You could barely make out his figure in the dark, but his spiky black hair meant that that was definitely Agent K.

No one was on the rooftop at this time of night. It was just you and him then. This was your chance.

The original plan was to slip something in his drink, but you knew from experience that he would never fall for that. You glance at the city, sound asleep below. Traffic lights blink here and there. The perfect opportunity. A simple push from this height would do it.

“So we meet again,” he said. You take the high heels off your feet and stalk over towards him. He’s leaning over the railing, head on the edge like he’s tired but still wants to enjoy the scenery. He makes no sudden moves of attack. You assume the same position, cupping your head in your hands.

“What does Bokuto want from me this time?” Bokuto was one of the leaders of the Fukurodani Syndicate, and a childhood friend of Agent K. The one that created it all. And the one you would have to take out after you took Agent K out.

“Must we burden our enemies every time we meet?” Agent K turned around to meet your eyes. His fingers ran over the smooth stone of the railing. “That crazy owl doesn’t want anything this time. He just wants me to get to you before Ushiwaka or Oikawa do.”

You raised an eyebrow before rolling your eyes. “Pssh. Hurry up and kill me.” To emphasize your point, you put your hands up in mock surrender.

Agent K smirked before moving closer to you. The lock of hair in your eyes, brought there by the wind, was moved to the side by his gloved fingers. The garnet mask that was the only barrier between a huge lead and potential failure stood tantalizingly before you. You had half a heart to tear it off his face. No. You needed to draw this out.

“Not before I indulge in a conversation with the subject of my affections.” Classic Agent K. Agent of Mischief both in and out of the bedroom, they said. You tilted your head to the side.

“Quite the suave man, aren’t you?”

His laughter was a boyish chuckle that did wonders to his usually intimidating face. He had a dimple on his left side, you noticed. What fun were you having, fraternizing with the enemy. But you couldn’t seem to pull away from him.

“I do enjoy thinking of my self as such, my lady,” he replied. You folded your hands over your chest.

“How many women have snuggled their way into your bed with that silver tongue of yours?”

It was an open secret that he was a ladies man, the rumors only being more and more obvious as he was spotted at the many red light districts he was spotted at.

“None.” Well that was new. He could be lying, though.

“Then... how many women do you intend to court with your smooth words?”

“Just one, sweetheart.” The words rolled off his tongue like they were made to be said by him, and only him.

“And who might that be?”

“You. Miss (Y/N) (L/N)” You scoff. No way were you about to be put on that long list of women. You walked closer to him.

“As if. When you manage to kill me, and thwart the—” Agent K was chuckling as you rambled on, trying to prolong the interaction. He put a finger over your lips.

“That is merely a misbegotten attempt to humiliate the both of us. Does it really look like that from the sidelines?”

What? This was Agent K. Known for his ability in twisting, turning, and confusing the hell out of his enemies. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Humiliate? I— what else would it be?”

“Well,” he peeled his mask back, “being sent out to eliminate your first love isn’t quite a job for the lily-livered, isn’t it?”

Under the mask, there was the familiar mischievous smile, the observant eyes, and the same smirk from years ago. He discarded the garnet mask over the railing.

“Kuroo?” The sheer shock at his revelation was enough to send you stumbling back. “You’re... Agent K?”

"I wouldn’t be anyone else, darling.”

Hands reach out from behind you to find something to hold on to. The knot in your stomach has only gotten tighter and tighter since this whole ordeal started. You don’t know how to process the feelings racing through your heart right now. How could he? Leave you all those years, then come back to you like this? How dare he? But the sounds of the party are coming closer and closer to the rooftop, and a police siren is wailing down below. Kuroo notices it too.

“I do hope that we can meet again, under, ah,” he adjusted his gloves, “more appropriate circumstances.”

“Until then,” he said. He inched his body closer to yours. The scent of old wine and cologne clung to his body. Kuroo pressed his lips onto your forehead. “goodnight, little angel.”

He tips his lanky body ever so close to the edge of the building, before succumbing to the effects of gravity. Strangely enough, you find yourself reaching out to him. His name on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out.

The wind whips through his hair as he falls through the night air. Then suddenly, he’s not there anymore. The roar of a helicopter from above indicates Kuroo’s savior has come. Kuroo’s suit clad figure hangs from a dangling ladder below the aircraft. He catches your eye for a moment. A gallant smile graces his lips, but it strikes you as rather...disingenuous.

Kuroo climbs up the ladder and disappears inside the helicopter. The blinking lights fade into the stars above as the wind leaves your lungs. Damn you, Kuroo, you curse in your mind. The fresh air does little to clear the haze in your mind at the situation that just unfolded. Several minutes pass by, with you trying to take deep breaths. You pick up your discarded mask and put it back on. As you leave the roof, you swear his cologne still lingers in your nose.

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atinytokki · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Chapter 8: The Black Crow

A blurry light illuminated the darkness from the central table, accompanied by the blurry sounds of two separated groups catching each other up on the events of the past months.

The five had decided to spend the night in their new lodgings, a large but comfortable space that could sleep all seven officers if it needed to, and Mingi was slowly draining his bottle while he sat with the others to deliberate their course of action.

“....and so the mermaids sped us here, to Geobugi, where thankfully we caught you in time,” San finished explaining. “Although, I suppose the destination is the same. Haemin territory.”

Hums of acknowledgement echoed around the table before Yunho spoke up. “We ourselves only recently arrived, but I think it’s relevant to let you know the situation here. Pirates are united again, and they want to join the war. Our rescue mission looks to them like an opportunity to justify their involvement.”

San and Jongho glanced at each other but didn’t rush to give their opinions. After a moment, Seonghwa’s quiet voice filled the space.

“Hongjoong told us to stay away from all this. He told Wooyoung and Yeosang to stay away. Do we really think they’ll want to be rescued from a conflict they’ve been dragged into only to turn around and start the fight again?”

“I understand that, hyung, I do,” San broke in, a cloud drawn over his face as he spoke urgently. “But I’ve been running away all this time and I’m so, so sick of it. I know you came out here in your princely attire to join the battle and I respect that you may have changed your mind, but you haven’t seen the enemy like I have.”

Jongho nodded. “I wish to fight as well. Haemin won’t stop taking innocent lives once we rescue Yeosang and Wooyoung from the Crow.”

Yunho sighed and took a swig of his own bottle before turning to Mingi. “Well, Quartermaster, what do you think?”

Mingi startled. What did he think?

He thought all of this felt wrong. He could hear the familiar tune of their crew happily dancing and singing a drinking song in the next lodging house over, and he could feel the ocean breeze gently caressing his face, and he could sense the eyes of his friends on him, looking to him for his answer, but he was drunk and dizzy and wanted more than anything to just turn back time.

Whether to stay safely tucked away or whether to risk their lives and fight didn’t seem like his decision to make.

“I say we wait to see what Yeosang and Wooyoung have to say about it,” he settled on, downing his drink and tossing the bottle in the bin. “There’s no use trying to make up our minds now.”

A knock sounded at the door before anyone could debate him.

“Medical visit!” Maddox’s voice sounded from the wooden porch, and when the rest looked to him, Mingi stood and opened it for the fellow quartermaster.

Namji stood there next to him, arms full of supplies and hair pulled back by a whale bone shard, and glanced around the room until she spied Jongho sitting on one of the sofas off to the side, his injured leg propped up on the arm.

“Two have come, two more remain to be saved?” She asked as she entered the room and set down her things.

Seonghwa opened his mouth to correct her but, faltering, settled on answering “Yes.”

“Excuse me, but I hardly think this is necessary,” San butted in, crossing his arms and taking up residence next to Jongho on the sofa. “I’ve already looked at his wound and treated it.”

The woman blinked and suddenly went beet red. “Choi San?” She asked hesitantly, reaching out a hand to be shaken when he confirmed. “I remember you from your past visits. I doubt you remember me though, you were in quite a hurry.”

He squinted at her until the memory resurfaced. “The apothecary shop?”

“Yes!” Namji beamed and nodded, going about removing Jongho’s bandage while she explained. “I still work there but I’m the surgeon for the Stardust now— or at least I will be when we finally set sail as a crew.”

“Setting sail as a crew?” Mingi questioned Maddox, eyebrow raised and a smile playing on his face. “Without Eden?”

“Oh, no, we’ll pick him up from the Mystic’s Island, next order of business.”

“And if he doesn’t want to come?” Yunho scoffed. He couldn’t imagine Eden rejoining the action after the devastating injury he had sustained.

“He will,” Maddox assured them. “By now if he’s with her, he knows the situation. You told me yourself a few nights ago how much of the war she had foreseen. The time for waiting around has come and gone. And the men will be happy to have their captain among them again.”

Mingi’s shoulders fell in defeat and he accidentally made eye contact with Seonghwa.

It was too bad they didn’t have that option themselves.

San and Namji were still arguing, pleasantries out of the way.

“But if it’s infected and the blood rushes to his head then—”

“But see, there is no open wound, so he’s in no danger of that.”

“Will one of you just get me walking again?” Jongho interjected with a tired grumble.

It took some effort for both surgeons to agree on a course of action and work together, and as they settled down and treated their patient, Mingi wandered to the balcony and gazed out at the lights of Geobugi.

Even the pirate islands close by to the east were somewhat visible, just as lively in the night as in the day. Dots of light decorated the shoreline, their golden rays bouncing off the moving water, making them appear to be floating on a bed of stars.

In the centre of the town, a tree stood tall. The leaves were few and far between but light decorated its branches, so full of candles that from far away it looked like it was on fire.

“What is that?” He muttered to himself, not expecting an answer and startling when Maddox came up behind him and answered solemnly.

“Geobugi has no graveyard. That tree is the next closest thing. Although I have to say, I haven’t known it to be so illuminated with funeral candles since Eden’s presumed death.”

While Mingi pondered the fact that it was apparently a funeral ritual for Hongjoong, Seonghwa spoke up from his own quiet musings.

“Eden had a funeral? We didn’t see this tree when we came here to pick up our crew. Hongjoong never mentioned it.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would’ve,” Maddox sighed, and Mingi understood why. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to see what was going on down there, even as the sound of singing drifted up enticingly from the tree gathering to their lodgings.

He followed Maddox down the suspended bridges to the town centre anyway, with Seonghwa, Yunho, and San in tow. Namji remained with Jongho to set him up with all the medicines he’d need for the next few days while the others slipped away.

Just as he’d suspected, pirates surrounded the tree with candles in their hands and music on their lips. They were singing, but it was more a dirge than a shanty, murmurs occasionally interrupting the tune as they left their lights in the tree and returned to their ships.

Mingi noticed none of their own crew was there to honour the dead, and he wasn’t surprised.

“It’s upsetting to see all this... grief. I’m not accustomed to the sight of it from older pirates,” he admitted, voice choked up slightly, though he told himself it was from the smoke.

“Grief is a sign of love,” Maddox finally answered, gazing at the spectacle himself with the twinkling sparks reflecting off of the moisture in his own eyes. “And love amongst a crew is a strength, not a weakness. The many outcasts here know that bond well, we’re all outcasts together.”

Even though most of the pirates here didn’t even know Hongjoong. And if they did, it was as a rival, not a captain.

“Goodbye, Pirate King,” came a whisper from beside them, and Mingi jumped again before turning to find the source. A woman with her hair newly bleached and chopped short stood next to their small group, nursing a candle of her own and surveying the stars. “I’m sorry for slapping you that time, and you’re forgiven for stealing half my weapons supply.”

Mingi couldn’t help but chuckle. He recognised her, although he couldn’t remember where from.

“Aewol of the Lioness?” Yunho supplied, and she turned to him and nodded, a couple of intricate plaits bouncing in her hair as she did. “If anything, I expected you fellow pirates to resent him,” he admitted, and it was exactly the thought on Mingi’s mind.

“Well, his criminal activity was a bother sometimes but actually worked in our favour,” Aewol explained. “And I don’t just mean that because he kept the Navy occupied with their obsession with the ATEEZ, he really inspired others to keep this legacy going. We have a rebuilt pirate haven after all, and more islands joining the pact than ever before.”

“Hear, hear!” Another pirate cheered before rounding the tree and approaching. This man was tall and looked ten or fifteen years older than them. “There was a time we put up the white flag when we saw the ATEEZ on the horizon.”

“Really?” Aewol snorted out a laugh.

“Really! I’m older than you new pirates, my crew was tired, but we had supplies cordoned off just in case— a tax to the Pirate King, the crew called it— but he sailed right by, never stole it.”

Seonghwa’s brows were drawn together, and he couldn’t help but grit out bitterly, “He was our captain. You never even met him, how can you mourn him?”

Another young pirate with his hair pulled back into a ponytail spoke up from the other side of the tree, guarding his flame as he walked over to join them.

“Because he was more than your captain,” he tried to explain. “We never met him, but he represented us all in a sense.”

Mingi surveyed the faces of strangers around him and couldn’t help but sigh. “I’m not sure how he’d feel if he was aware that people thought of him that way.”

“Well, you knew him,” the younger pirate pointed out with a shrug before setting his candle on one of the lower branches. “Tell us about the Pirate King.”

Suddenly all attention was on Mingi and he didn’t know what to do.

From the bold flags and bright candles to the tears in their eyes, he could tell these pirates didn’t want to know about Hongjoong as a person, his flaws and his humanity, only his legendary acts and larger-than-life personality traits.

They wanted to hear a thrilling tale in line with their pre-existing notion of him.

It was that daring boldness that made piracy appealing, Mingi realised, not the quiet days of fair weather he cherished with his captain. It was heroes becoming myths that would go down in history, and they might as well have been anonymous.

But Mingi didn’t want to think of Hongjoong that way, so he stood there gaping like a fish while Seonghwa began putting them straight.

“Well, firstly... his name was Hongjoong,” he struggled through his sentences, trying to find a way to do the story justice. “And he... h-he was just a boy from Panhang at first. Like anyone else.”

“We grew up together,” Mingi continued. “Although I did most of the growing.”

Chuckles sounded from the growing crowd and Mingi swallowed his nerves. Hongjoong would have smacked him upside the head for that joke if he were there.

“After his parents drowned and again after Eden was presumed dead, he seemed to know what he wanted. I don’t think he faltered in that for a long time.”

That was just about all Mingi was willing to divulge. It was the origin of their journey as a crew after all, and it brought them up to the present, but everyone was still staring at him as if waiting for something really exciting.

“There are things he went through— things we went through— that I don’t think the world ought to know,” he finally sighed, deciding to let them make their own inferences. “But some of the stories you’ve heard are true.”

“Including the tale of the kraken?” One man shouted from the back.

“Yes, it was Wooyoung’s shot that finished it,” Yunho filled in, only to be overwhelmed by more questions.

“And the fire tornado on the deserted island?” A woman asked closer to Mingi.

“Right, we were all there,” he confirmed. “I jumped into the inferno myself...”

And just like that, all those harebrained escapes and knick of time rescues became epic tales to be circulated around the islands until they no longer bore any resemblance to the truth.

Mingi knew it was bound to happen, but he returned to the lodging house as soon as he could anyway.

The recognition was good in measure, but something about listening to Hongjoong be discussed in the past tense was grating on his ears.

It had been the final straw when an old sailor announced, “May a westerly breeze blow his spirit over the sea to wait for us at rest in the new world.”

But he knew it didn’t matter what all those pirates thought of him, or even of the ATEEZ.

Maddox was right about one thing for certain— the bond amongst a crew.

“You think he can see all those lights, wherever he is?” Mingi whispered softly in Jongho’s direction as he slumped on the sofa next to him, nursing his dizzy head and holding the younger boy as tightly as he could while minding his injury.

“I don’t know,” Jongho tutted, but he didn’t pull away from the embrace. “He didn’t bring his spyglass with him.”

...

“Nothing but blue for miles and miles,” Hongjoong muttered as he stretched his hand out the porthole window again, letting the spray of the waves meet his skin. “And we’re definitely headed south.”

The lack of ice flecking the ocean was already a good sign they had made considerable progress.

“Is the water warmer?” Yeosang asked as he stood and made his way over, wiping the sweat from his face. He was exercising as often as he could, determined to be physically fit for the task should something go wrong during their escape.

For a while he had been hiding muscle under that timid form, and his head was full of combat knowledge, collected quietly until the time came to strike. That moment was approaching with every mile closer to Haemin they travelled.

Hongjoong nodded and drew his arm back in, sinking to the floor impatiently.

“It shouldn’t be long then, right?” Wooyoung asked, mouth full of the midday meal as he cringed away from the concerned steward who was warning him to slow down.

“I doubt we’re even halfway,” Hongjoong huffed. “The distance between the colonies and even Haemin’s outlying islands is vast.”

Which meant they were sailing half a world away from everything they ever knew and everyone they ever loved.

“Why is it always the three of us?” Wooyoung groaned as he finally passed off his bowl and stretched out on the floor.

The steward rolled his eyes and saw himself out without another word.

Hongjoong stretched out next to Wooyoung on the floor and gave him a pinch to the arm for taking up his space. “We just can’t stay away from each other, I suppose.” It was one constant they were all grateful for.

“Oh, admit it!” Wooyoung laughed gleefully as Yeosang lay down on his other side. “Yeosang and I are your favourite children.”

Hongjoong spluttered but wasn’t given a chance to retort.

“Who cares about his father? That’s you now,” Wooyoung jabbed, and giggles broke out between the three of them.

“That still makes for one dysfunctional family,” Yeosang pointed out, hiding his laugh behind a hand and shoving Wooyoung lightly.

He always knew how to raise their spirits.

“I do hope the rest are safe, especially Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said under his breath when the moment had passed.

Wooyoung and Yeosang glanced at each other.

“Why Seonghwa? He was fine when I saw him last,” Yeosang responded immediately, heart beginning to pound when he didn’t receive an answer for a moment. What did Hongjoong know that he didn’t?

“Haemin is trying to kill him.”

Oh, just that.

But Seonghwa was likely safe with others, Yeosang knew, so he willed his heartbeat to slow down to a healthy speed and tried to rationalise for Hongjoong’s sake.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered. “They tried once in Namhae, with the explosion that ironically nearly killed you. You should’ve seen the amount of security at the palace.”

“But now he’s made himself an easy target,” Hongjoong sighed. “He was here on the Black Crow, planning to fight with the Navy. I have no idea why or where he is now, but I read the intelligence myself. He’s in danger yet again.”

It was another one of those constants, especially now that the older pirate had a crown and a royal title.

But it was of no use that they knew of this supposed assassination plot that Seonghwa himself didn’t.

A familiar knock sounded softly from the door and Byun and Park entered with news.

“Admiral Kim is paying you a visit within the hour,” Byun directed his words at Hongjoong, accompanied with a grimace. “I don’t know why it took him this long, but we had better prepare.”

Yeosang nodded and helped Wooyoung to his feet. They had discussed in advance what to do when this inevitably happened. They couldn’t hide away in the hold forever, at least not in the same room as Kim’s favourite prisoner.

As Lieutenant Park— the officer who was supposed to be on guard— refastened the chains around Hongjoong’s hands, Yeosang and Wooyoung followed Byun out through the cramped deck hallway to the infirmary.

The Black Crow was massive to the extent that a crew member on one deck of the ship would likely never come into contact with a crew member on another. It was certainly capable of hiding two young pirates so long as they disguised as soldiers.

But Yeosang and Wooyoung wanted more than a place to hide, they wanted to be in on the action and that required something more.

“Hang on,” Byun suddenly whispered, stopping in his tracks and causing a small collision behind him.

“What is it?” Wooyoung hissed, already half concealed behind the nearest barrel in case someone was approaching.

“A longboat is missing,” came the reply, barely louder than a breath, no more than a passing thought.

“I didn’t expect to have deserters this early on in the war,” Byun explained as they walked past the empty space where the boat should be and hurried into the infirmary. “Strange that the Admiral hasn’t mentioned anything about it.”

But then, he was clearly busy with other things.

Surgeon Oh rushed them inside and took out a pair of nondescript navy uniforms from the back of one of his cabinets, handing them off to the stowaways.

“This one stinks,” Wooyoung complained, holding his nose and watching with disgust as Yeosang immediately began to change into his own.

“We didn’t exactly have time to order new ones made,” Oh countered with an exasperated sigh. “They’re borrowed from the crew.”

Yeosang buttoned the jacket up to the neck and nodded Wooyoung on.

As reluctant as they were, they were soldiers of necessity. It was the best plan they had.

“Here are the bandages,” Oh continued, carefully applying a few strategic coverings to their faces.

Yeosang’s birthmark was painstakingly obscured this time to avoid a similar incident to the one at the Namhae prison, and hats were shoved on to hide their colourful hair from view.

“If anyone asks, you’re greenies who each received a face full of powder burn in the battle and are lucky to be alive,” Byun supplied as he opened the door for them, knowing it was a common enough occurrence to be believable.

“Lieutenant? Accompany me to the bilge deck,” a call carried across the working crowd and halted them before they could.

It was the Admiral, finally ready to pay his visit, and his voice made Yeosang clench his fist in livid silence.

“...after you’re finished with those patients. You too, surgeon,” Kim added when he noticed them.

Wooyoung and Yeosang both fixed their eyes on the deck respectfully, faces completely devoid of emotion.

If Yeosang had to speak to the man, he might punch him in the face.

“Of course, sir,” Byun answered swiftly, motioning for Yeosang and Wooyoung to hang back a moment for appearances. It was best if they weren’t seen together with the lieutenant again as low level recruits.

They waited a full thirty seconds after he and the Admiral disappeared into the lower decks before following, pressing against the door to try and hear every word, every movement.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”

It was Admiral Kim’s voice, that snobbish lilt he liked to tease with, and it didn’t sound like Hongjoong was taking the bait.

There was a brief pause before they heard their captain respond, not a direct answer to the question but a response nonetheless.

“Was the battle to your satisfaction?”

Kim barked out a laugh and the sound of clapping followed. “Yes, you performed beautifully. Excellent results. However, I have a problem.”

Another silence stretched on for a few seconds, long enough that Yeosang began to fear punishment for not answering would follow.

“What is it?” Hongjoong sneered when Kim was likely at his breaking point. He liked to have control of the conversation.

Yeosang leaned forward to peek through the door, still open a crack, risking discovery just to be able to lay eyes on the scene.

“The men are far too taken with you and your charms,” Kim was explaining, as if scolding a young child. “In fact, between here and Haemin, I expect you will have completely seduced them and it will be you, not me, who is in charge of this ship.”

Yeosang wondered what would happen if he and Wooyoung attacked the man from behind while the lieutenants secured the door.

They could dispose of him in a moment or two, but would the rest of the ship consider it a mutiny or a liberation?

“We cannot have that, can we?” Kim nearly growled, toeing the prisoner with his boot to elicit a response.

Hongjoong shook his head stiffly, but his expression didn’t change.

“Indeed,” the Admiral sounded satisfied and turned to the officers standing next to him. “Would you say he is in sufficient health for a visit to the main deck, Oh?”

The surgeon’s eyes flickered between Hongjoong and the Admiral before he uttered an emotionless, “Yessir.”

Kim may have suspected Hongjoong of winning over the crew, but he still had no idea that his own officers had been won over as well.

“Then see it done. The men need to be reminded that Lucky is a prisoner, not a captain.”

Yeosang and Wooyoung made all possible haste to reach the main deck before the men dragged Hongjoong up with them, standing just out of the way a few paces off from each other and peeking over shoulders and around cannons to see what they had no power to stop.

To Yeosang’s surprise, Kim simply had the lieutenants chain Hongjoong to the mainmast and walked away.

There were a few soft murmurs around the deck, but no major outcry, even after the Admiral returned to his cabin.

One at a time, the lieutenants returned to the hold, and one at a time, Yeosang and Wooyoung joined them.

“At least we know the disguises work,” Wooyoung tried to cheer Yeosang up, unwrapping his neck and discarding the unused bandage on the floor. “Now we have to figure out how to communicate with Hongjoong in broad daylight.”

After an hour or two of the Admiral remaining in his quarters while Hongjoong worked himself into as comfortable a position as he could outside, it became apparent that the punishment would continue for longer than they thought.

“It’s raining...” Yeosang noted absently as he noticed Hongjoong wipe his eyes against his shoulder and slump to his knees with a tired sigh. He was hugging the mast with his hands chained in front of him, and by now they were likely stiff and sore, not to mention soaked through.

“He’ll be out there all night most likely,” Byun kept his eyes on his boots as he confessed. “If it goes on too long, Oh can lawfully make a recommendation to move him inside... but such an act may look suspicious.”

“It’s a fine line you’re walking,” Wooyoung snapped, and Yeosang had to hold him back from attacking the guilty lieutenants.

“We all knew the risks, including Lucky,” Park came to Byun’s defense. “If you know anything about Kim, this is the lesser of a multitude of evils.”

Yeosang glanced out at the rain streaming down the window.

Perhaps he didn’t know the Admiral as well as he thought.

…

When San stumbled back to the lodgings, he didn’t expect to find anyone awake.

The night was deep and dark, just a few hours off from the first grey hints of dawn and having spent most of the time getting acquainted with the other pirates on the island after their vigil, he was tired and in need of some sleep before they set sail.

San still couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Hongjoong’s face, but there was no more chance of stalling so he’d have to bear with it for a while.

So it was to his great surprise that San discovered Seonghwa of all people, lying awake with his crown in his lap, finely crafted jewels catching the light of a single flame quivering atop a candle on the table next to him.

“What does it even mean,” he whispered, glancing up at San. “To be the prince on an island so untouched by royalty?”

There was hurt in his eyes.

San deflated and moved over to his own bed, pulling his boots off while he thought about how to answer. He wasn’t sure he even could.

San had been paddling away from Namhae with the last ounce of strength in his arms before he ever knew Seonghwa had even made contact with the royal family.

He had missed out on so much that seeing the crown gleaming in the boatswain’s hands now was a foreign sight altogether. He had no idea what that reality meant to him, why he couldn’t just leave it behind.

“Hongjoong is the Pirate King here, the crown has no power compared to that,” Seonghwa muttered, setting it on the table next to the candle and trying to settle back comfortably. From a few houses over, wind chimes clinked together gently in the breeze.

“Even if it did, is it something you actually want for yourself— the palace life and everything that goes with it?” San finally asked through the roughness in his throat, fiddling with the edge of his jacket.

“There’s nothing in it for me without the ATEEZ.”

It was reassuring to hear that, and San found himself relaxing before thinking about the future.

“And if the kingdom and these pirate islands can’t peacefully coexist at the end of all this? What then?”

Seonghwa turned to face him and shrugged. “Then I have to give it up. I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself again.”

San bit his shaking bottom lip and crawled into the hammock with Seonghwa, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “At least you have a common goal with your brother, the king. We all want Haemin defeated.”

Seonghwa hummed sleepily, eyes falling shut. He was too tired to argue, even if he wasn’t convinced joining the war was the best option.

San blew out the candle with a quick puff of air and settled in. He breathed Seonghwa in while he held him, and swore under his breath never to take any of their small band for granted again.

He had been adrift for far too long, and when he had Yeosang and Wooyoung safe with him as well, maybe then he’d finally be home.

Sleep came to him speedily, but it was a light sleep.

Something jolted him out of it when it was still dark in their shared room, and San wasn’t sure what it was but he was prepared to ignore it and let his eyes fall shut again until Seonghwa made a noise.

It wasn’t any sort of coherent word, just a mumble that sounded almost like a whimper, so San opened his eyes and turned his head.

An intruder clothed from head to toe in black was crawling in through the window with a sword drawn and pointed toward them.

San jerked up and reached for his gun, suddenly remembering it was still next to his own bed but being cut off by the attacker before he could reach it.

He threw a punch, but the stranger dodged it, and as he stumbled over air his opponent made for Seonghwa, raising the blade to end him in a single stroke.

Thankfully, Seonghwa rolled out of the way and found his own gun, trying to load it in the dark with shaking hands and yelling for help, hoping someone would wake up and come to their aid.

If he wasn’t imagining it all, it seemed like this assassin was here to kill him.

In an instant, Jongho was on the intruder, tackling him from the back and wrestling him to the floor.

Completely by chance, the assassin kicked his injured leg in a lucky shot, causing his knees to buckle and his grip to loosen.

With the growing sound of footsteps, the intruder’s options were dwindling. There was little chance of killing his target now that the entire room had woken up. And it was a room full of experienced pirates, so to pick a fight with all of them at once would be suicide.

“Don’t let him get away!” San yelled, grasping his gun and shoving his feet into his boots while the assassin leapt back out the window and pulled himself on to the roof.

Yunho jumped out after him and San was right on his heels, climbing over the tiled eaves of the lodging house and letting Yunho help pull him up.

The assassin had jumped the distance between their roof and the next one, and was skilfully leaping across them as silent as a shadow, hoping to lose his pursuers in the chaos.

But he had followed them here to a pirate island, a nest of enemies with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run.

“Cut him off at the waterfront?” San suggested, popping up out of a tumble as he moved from a higher building to a lower one.

Yunho grunted his acknowledgement and broke off to the west, sprinting across a roof beam in the direction of the shipyard while San went straight after the assassin and tried to direct his path from behind.

If they were successful, they’d have the intruder trapped between them. Then he could surrender or they could take him by force. San had no preference.

Just when he thought the assassin had started to turn towards the ship masts peeking up in the west, a pair of daggers came flying towards him.

With a yelp, San ducked by slipping into a crack between buildings. Keeping his eyes trained on the escaping assassin, he hauled himself up from the balcony and jumped to the next roof to continue in pursuit.

All this running on unstable ground was tiring, but evoked the memory of his successful rooftop chase on the Fortress island and made him push harder. The terrain wasn’t flat like it had been then and the stranger he was chasing was much more agile, so he had to become light on his own feet and do everything in his power to catch up.

Trying to slow the runner down, he shot a few rounds in the assassin’s general direction. It didn’t succeed in fazing him, but it did cause him to turn west, and a smile began to grow on San’s face.

This was their territory now, not the stranger’s.

Sure enough, just as the assassin reached the last roof before the docks, Yunho emerged from behind a chimney stack and shoved him to the tile.

San met up with him immediately, joining in and helping to restrain the man. The sun was beginning to rise, and in the pale early morning light the stranger wasn’t recognisable, even after Yunho ripped off his mask and looked him in the eyes.

“Who are you?” He growled, shaking the intruder by the shoulders and gripping him tightly to encourage an answer.

The assassin didn’t speak, letting the contempt in his eyes tell the pirates all they needed to know.

San was busy emptying his pockets and lifting any and all weapons from his person, but pressed him into the tile roughly for good measure, trying to get the man to talk.

“Who do you work for?” Yunho’s hands were on the assassin’s arms, restraining them behind his back and pulling the man to his feet. “What is it, you don’t want to squeal?”

San strapped the assortment of weapons to himself and helped escort the prisoner off the roof, liking the craftsmanship of the daggers and considering keeping them.

“That’s alright. He’ll change his mind when we’re done with him.”

...

Wooyoung couldn’t eat. He was too focused on the door, waiting for it to open for a lieutenant with news.

Yeosang had been coaxing some breakfast into his mouth when it finally did.

Park stuck his head in to announce that they were heading to the shipwreck site of a fellow navy ship to pick up survivors and continue into Haemin, a detour which would delay their arrival and subsequent escape.

“That’s all?” Yeosang scoffed. “You didn’t mention anything about Hongjoong’s health to him?”

“You people are useless,” Wooyoung spat before he got a chance to apologise, shooing the lieutenant out and beginning to pace the room.

It was like all these men knew how to do was hurt people and take lives. None of them had the guts to stand up to Kim and tell him to let Hongjoong go belowdecks again.

“It’s so stuffy, I can’t breathe in this,” Wooyoung whispered as he wiped his sweaty hands on the uniform, undid the clasps to expose his chest and slumped down the hull wall. “How much longer?”

Yeosang sighed and buttoned it up again for him, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go take a look.”

As always, they had to bandage their faces up and be careful not to raise any suspicion when they were in a public area, but their concern for Hongjoong and his rapidly worsening injuries was too great to simply sit around until he was returned to them.

Wooyoung went to one side of the main deck and Yeosang to the other, communicating with his uncovered eye that Byun happened to be standing just to Wooyoung’s left.

The lieutenant looked to the average sailor like he was simply keeping an eye on the proceedings of the morning, but Wooyoung knew he was watching Hongjoong intently and followed suit.

The prisoner hadn’t woken yet, his arms limp around the mast and legs tucked in underneath him to avoid being rained on.

“He can’t hold his own weight up anymore,” Wooyoung observed under his breath, just loud enough to make Byun flash a glance at him. “Before, he would probably rather lick his own wounds in a corner like an animal than let the navy help him.”

“Dying changes a man,” the lieutenant shot back quietly. “What he saw was an opportunity, and I for one am very glad he took it.”

Surgeon Oh approached and whispered in Byun’s ear just as Wooyoung opened his mouth to retort, and instead of engage in the hushed argument any longer, Byun signalled Lieutenant Park to help him remove Hongjoong from the mast and get him below. It seemed the surgeon had secured Admiral Kim’s permission.

Wooyoung still didn’t think they ever needed it.

He signalled Yeosang to meet him in their bilge deck room again and the two shuffled around anxiously until the lieutenants appeared with Hongjoong, awake now and grateful to be set down on the floor to lie still without being chained.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Yeosang rushed to ask in a low voice.

Even his throat was watery, and Hongjoong coughed up some rain before answering, “I’m fine. It wasn’t even ten lashes.”

Public punishment by cat o’ nine tails was extremely common in the navy, and it was a surprise that Kim hadn’t jumped at the chance to dole out the blows himself.

But it had them wondering why this situation was special.

Wooyoung’s mouth ran away from him.

“What did you do to make him hate you so much?”

Hongjoong paused where he was pulling off his soaking uniform and replacing it with a dry one and met his gaze.

A cool breeze swept the space in that moment and all of them shivered.

Finally Hongjoong broke the silence and dropped the wet clothes to the floor.

“It’s complicated.”

Yeosang gave Wooyoung a warning glare to let it slide until their captain was dry, fed, and rested, but Hongjoong went on as he buttoned up his new jacket.

“I was different back then, the day we first met face to face. More reckless. And I had no fear of the evil of men, only the unforgiving nature of the wild.”

Wooyoung nodded and scooted over, bringing a blanket with him and wrapping it around the both of them.

“When it was over, I was afraid only of myself,” Hongjoong sighed, before his eyes cleared and he began the story from the beginning.

“At the time, Mingi and I were focused on building the ATEEZ from the small boat I started with to the ship both of you knew when we met. We procured weapons and materials through a variety of means, but inevitably our travels took us to Kon— a paradise for shipbuilders, but also the Navy’s back yard. I was careless in my approach, and I managed to keep Mingi and the ATEEZ safe from discovery, but Kim took me into custody and, well...”

Wooyoung’s eyes were drawn to the faint pink trace of Hongjoong’s pirate brand. The burn couldn’t hide from someone who knew where it was, and the Admiral had referred to it as a souvenir he had gifted himself.

“He remembered my name from the sinking of the Stardust, and the thought that I might continue what Eden had started clearly terrified him,” Hongjoong explained, pulling the blanket tight around him. “I’m sure he had made up his mind to kill me as quickly as the process would allow, but somehow Mingi mustered up the courage and the skill to break me out completely by himself.”

Yeosang chuckled fondly as he joined their huddle and the lieutenants made their way out with the wet clothes. They knew when their presence was no longer required.

“Getting out proved to be more tricky than getting in,” Hongjoong went on. “There was... a guard.”

He exhaled shakily and Wooyoung had a feeling this was where the story went south.

“We didn’t hear him approach, but he yelled out suddenly from behind us and drew his gun,” Hongjoong’s words and the rocking of the ship were the only sounds as Wooyoung and Yeosang held their breath. “So I-I drew mine, and without thinking, fired it. It was just another instinct after surviving alone on that island, I never meant to kill him... but he shot as well, the bullet hit my leg, and while Mingi dragged me away I looked to see what I had done.”

He lowered his head into his hands and didn’t speak for a moment.

“Admiral Kim had arrived, and he cradled that guard in his arms and cried. He kept saying ‘my son’ over and over again, and from that day on, his hatred for me increased a hundredfold. I don’t think I fully understood until Namhae. Anyone associated with me is nothing more to him than a bug to be crushed.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t murder his son in cold blood,” Wooyoung insisted, taking his cold hand and squeezing it. “You said yourself, it was an accident.”

Hongjoong didn’t pull away, so Yeosang leaned over to join in. He could relate personally from his own memories of a steaming gun and a bleeding sorcerer. “The first kill is always the worst.”

But it was so much easier when you didn’t know what the dead left behind. When you couldn’t imagine a devastated wife, or starving children, or… a weeping father.

Their captain simply trained his eyes on the ceiling and shook his head just the same.

“I’m sorry anyway. Because I can live with his voice in my head and Kim chasing me around the globe, but I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you as a result.”

Glancing around the hold, Wooyoung knew they had been very close to that reality several times.

“If we play our cards right, neither of those will be the case,” Yeosang pointed out, sitting back and stretching his muscles.

“That’s true, although we have some planning to do thanks to the change in course,” Wooyoung grumbled as he followed suit but saved a teasing smile for Hongjoong, whose eyes were already heavy lidded and fading fast.

“Join us when you’re ready, Captain. I’ve been dying to have you boss me around again.”

...

Maddox arrived at the lodging house to find the assassin already captive and bound to a chair, the officers of the ATEEZ all wide awake and taking turns intimidating him.

Maddox wondered if they were aware how much they spoke to each other without words.

“There was a distress signal,” he explained when Mingi approached with his eyebrow raised, motioning for the men he’d brought to stand by the door.

“We have everything under control,” Mingi assured him smoothly, and Maddox had figured as much but he had to admit he was curious about what was going on.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked cordially, and Mingi gave him a shy smile and a nod.

Seonghwa was seated in front of the intruder, not the slightest bit shaken by the attempt on his life.

He had a hand on the scruff of the man’s neck and wasn’t afraid to get in his face, refusing to allow his eyes to be avoided. Maddox guessed his approach was somewhat tame compared to others.

“Your name,” the prince growled. “That’s all I’m asking for now.”

The assassin held his silence for a few seconds before swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as Seonghwa stared him down.

If he tried to lie, they’d know it instantly. Seonghwa had that look in his eyes, like he was asking a question he already knew the answer to. Like he was simply leading the other through an exercise of asserting dominance, where at the end of it the assassin gave him everything he wanted or had a body part broken courtesy of Jongho.

“Jang, at your service,” the man finally spat, smooth features contorting angrily.

Seonghwa smirked and petted the assassin’s neck almost tenderly. “See?” He cooed, his voice as gentle as if he were speaking to a child. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Noticing Maddox’s presence, Seonghwa beckoned him over to whisper in his ear. “Might we speak privately?”

Maddox nodded and signalled for the men he’d brought to guard the assassin. They didn’t want him slipping away while Jongho had his leg tended to again.

When they were outside with the morning sun on their faces, Seonghwa sighed deeply and turned to face him.

“I’ve seen him before.”

Maddox was confused. “What? Where?”

“It was in the square, the day Hongjoong died,” Seonghwa blinked as if remembering against his will. “He was at the execution... he works for Admiral Kim.”

“And yet he tried to kill you when he knows who you are,” Maddox snorted out a laugh, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

This was turning out to be more of a headache than he’d thought.

“All along...” Seonghwa muttered bitterly, his eyes fixed on the distant waves beyond the docks. “Kim had been planning to kill me at sea and make it look like an accident, just a tragic casualty of war. It doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Then it’s a good thing you left when you did, you might not have had anyone to fall back on,” Maddox couldn’t help but notice, straightening his shoulders and asking the younger man for a course of action. “What do you want to do?”

“Relax your security,” Seonghwa suggested after a moment, pushing back off the railing and facing him.

Maddox’s mouth worked silently as he tried to understand. “But...”

“He can lead us to the Black Crow,” Seonghwa’s jaw was set and he insisted without even consulting the rest of his crew, that was how sure he was they would go along with this ridiculous scheme.

“Seonghwa—”

“I’m betting he’ll try to escape to inform the Admiral.”

Maddox sighed and looked down at the docks for any unfamiliar ship. There was a single longboat that looked like the Navy’s, but he wasn’t certain it was enough evidence. “You’re sure he knows where they’re headed now?”

“Kim would want confirmation the job was finished,” Seonghwa reasoned. “He must have told Jang where to meet him.”

Maddox chewed on his lip while he considered it. Their band was travelling south already, but a little more specificity to navigate with would undoubtedly be an asset. It was probably worth a try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Not to mention the Stardust’s sailing master Jihan would thank him for it.

“Alright, it’s better than nothing,” he finally agreed, shaking hands with the prince and amicably parting ways. It looked like Eden would have to wait.

He took his extra men with him and returned to the Stardust officers’ quarters. Their master gunner and master-at-arms were already seated by the door, ready to go.

“Soomin, Jonghoon,” he addressed them, searching around for his hat. “Pack your things, we’re headed to Haemin.”

...

Taglist: @serendipityunho @celestial-yunho @atzjjongbby @89staytinyzen21

A/N: Our journey continues southward! Let me know if you noticed any interesting details or have any predictions for the future, and thanks so much for reading and keeping up with Treasure! It means a lot <3

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justasparkwritings · 4 years

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 25 (Final)

Previous: OT8

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x OFC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, Government AgentAU, Angst, Some Fluff

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Rape (as in, when I brought it up, she got mad)

Summary: Our Lovely P.I. reminisces on the end of her mission, and the fate of the Lee’s.

To Have Loved and Lost

Present Day

I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t watch the trial of Lee Enterprises, the plea deals through sentencing.

I’m not going to lie and tell you I wasn’t at the courthouse, listening to testimony, jotting down notes to add to my files.

I’m not going to say that I haven’t spoken to Lee Euna since her family and the majority of their coworkers were sentenced, escorted off to prisons where they were certainly going to be targets. You don’t embezzle, trade and engage in fraudulent activity without being a target to the very people you stole from. Though their clientele skews towards the upper echelon of society, the everyday person knows that anyone who deals with the upper 0.01% is scum.

But I did watch.

And I have spoken to Euna, regularly actually.

She’s been kind to me, connected me with a few other higher up clients that have utilized my services for more than cheating husbands. It’s been really nice to have steady work from clients who pay bank. It’s also been nice to speak to Euna in a non-worker-employer environment. Euna doesn’t have many friends, at all, Genevieve Yang turned out to be a plant from OT7, and anyone she had worked with or gone to happy hour with was either in jail, on probation, or on house arrest.

Together, the entire board, Mr. Lee and Dae-Seong were sentenced to 50 years in prison, each. They were ordered to pay nearly 2 billion in restitution, fines across the globe totaling 100 million, and should they be let out early, probation for the entirety of their lives.

Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min, though accomplices in their father’s bidding, faired far better due to testimony and expert opinions on their mental states. Dae-Seong had been subjected to the same scrutiny, but being the sociopath that he is, did not fair too well under the gaze of multiple experts. Kwan and Seo were sentenced to 10 years, a fine of 50 million each, and upon turning into witnesses, 5 years’ probation and a combined 75 million in restitution.

Rest assured, the three free Lee’s still sit on an Everest size amount of money. They won’t be singing for their suppers or scraping by paycheck to paycheck.

Euna had been caught unawares, scared out of her mind when the raid had begun, video cameras and film crews stalking the office as various federal agents descended upon her office. She watched, horrified, as everyone was hauled off. She called me immediately, asking what I knew, and as the only person she knew not arrested, I was tasked with running to her side.

I did stay with her.

I was in the court room for her.

I was with her during witness prep, when she cried over the lies her parents had told her, when the lawyer told her what her finances and career would be like.

She was heartbroken, bewildered that her entire life had been a lie. They all knew, they were all taking part in it, and they had prepped Euna to be the lone wolf, the soul proprietor of the family name and their legacy.

Let’s be clear, I felt deeply uncomfortable the first few weeks, but what was I supposed to do? I too had been a pawn, but, but, she had no one. Literally, no one except for her lawyers and me, the P.I. she paid to find the men who ruined her life and subsequently aided in her demise. She doesn’t know that though, that I was part of it. Euna does know that Jungkook is friends with Taehyung, and I did abandon the friendship on the truth that she raped Tae. She argued at first, that our friendship was stronger than that… but the irrefutable knowledge of her sexual abuse was too much, it was the nail in the coffin of our friendship, as it should’ve been all along.

In a shocking turn of events, Yoongi is my best friend. I’m obsessed with him, truthly and deeply in love. He is easily the most pragmatic, off putting, cuddly monster I have ever come in contact with. I spend whatever time I’m not with Jungkook and the rest of OT7, with Yoongi. It helps that Jungkook idolizes him, not as much as Namjoon or Seokjin, but pretty close. I just, I hate that I love his friends so much, and that I’m so jealous of his connection with them. They believe in one another, are rarely tired of each other even after a decades long mission. OT7 is, as cliché and disgusting as it is, a family. Jungkook was right, he can’t breathe or move without any one of them knowing.

Also? They’re ridiculously funny, thoughtful and compassionate. I truly hate them, and so desperately want to be a part of their club. If this is true friendship, well, maybe I would’ve held on to some of my acquaintances longer.

The other bit of news, I guess, is that I retired the old P.I. hat. I’m getting too old for this shit, and also, Euna had begun sending shitty threatening letters and packages to my office. While I was devastated to abandon my corner office, my safety took precedence and Jungkook nearly lost his shit when he saw the “gifts”. Amongst this outrage over my safety, I have fully been onboarded with OT7, well, adjacent. The company that oversees them, Big Hit, a horrible name, has put me to work. I don’t work with Jungkook, but am in constant communication with Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok. Thankfully, I don’t have to work with Seokjin, finances aren’t really a part of my gig. Jimin and Taehyung have come in handy, and I might be obsessed with Taehyung, too. I was right, tailing him was terribly terrific, and being in his orbit is equally as thrilling.

My first case with Big Hit was working a heist job, replicated documents, tracking who had been in and out of the museum, matching facial recognition across Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and federal databases as well as creating a comprehensive program to track comparisons.

I couldn’t tell you what my sister does, but when I described a few aspects of my new job, she said “Seems familiar.” C remains, as ever, a mystery.

Jungkook and I have been in therapy for a while. It’s amazing what you can unlock when you pay a professional to help you heal yourself. I’m, obsessed with therapy? Not even a question, I love therapy. I went regularly as an adolescent but stopped when I was about 22. I go separately, and every other week, Jungkook and I go together. He goes on his own, something everyone in OT7 encouraged. We live together, blissfully, and moved to a bigger apartment where we promptly got a dog named Gureum, a name Jungkook picked out.

I love him, so much more than I did when we started dating. So much more than when he told me he loves me, or when we moved in together, or when I met his family or when Namjoon told me that all Jungkook wants is a life with me. Which, one, was none of his business, and two, didn’t freak me out as much as I thought it would. Probably the therapy, or the acceptance that a life with him is all I want, too.

When Lee Euna came into my office, all Versace and dripping, oozing, pooling wealth, I didn’t know this is where my life would lead me. I didn’t know I would end up working for a major organization, steeped in secrecy, that I would find the love of my life, or friends that make every moment a little bit brighter. I didn’t know that sitting in that little office, sun streaking through stained glass, bourbon cheesecake waiting in my mini fridge, that the click-clack of Louboutin’s would alter the trajectory of my life forever.

But that’s the thing with secret missions, or shady surveillance under the cover of night and letters placed on your car seat, you never know what you’re going to find. Now, nearly three years later, all I have left to say to Codename Cupid is this:

Mission Accomplished.

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nose-bandaid · 4 years

Text

bloom ✿ pt.1 — daisies

Kino (Hyunggu) x (female) Reader | flower shop AU

february 6th daises — innocence, purity, and new beginnings

=====

“Yes... yes, we’ll be able to deliver on Friday. So which flowers did you want?” You did your best to keep your tone as polite as possible and listened to the muffled voice list the various flowers they wanted. When you initially picked up the phone, you expected that it would be an easy task to complete — handling calls were a frequent part of your job. The customers usually knew what they wanted and for the most part, were pleasant to work with. However, for some reason, this specific customer was prepared to chew you out before you could even say hello. Six minutes and about a million skeptical questions and insults later, you were finally able to get to the actual ordering part of the process. But that didn’t stop the pounding in your head as you filled out the order sheet.

Pink Roses... Baby’s Breath... Snap Dragons — your heart froze for a moment.

We’re out of snap dragons, aren’t we.

You shuffled through some papers to confirm your suspicions and yep, the next order wasn’t due until two weeks from now. Already anticipating the grouchy response you were about to receive, you braced yourself before daring to speak into the receiver again.

“I’m really sorry, but we seem to be out of snap dragons at the moment and the next order won’t come in time for Friday...”

You expected some shouting, or even some cursing, but instead you received the most passive-aggressive tone you’ve ever heard, as they asked you to clarify what you meant. And honestly, that was probably worse than how the shouting would’ve been.

“We do have larkspurs though,” You offered desperately. As much as you wanted to hang up on them right then and there, you couldn’t afford to lose the order, or even worse, a customer. “They’re really similar to snap dragons and they’re just as beautiful, I can promise you that.”

While you tried your best to convince the customer to go with the alternate flowers, a hand tapping on the table you were leaning on caught your attention.

“Excuse me! Can I have some help choosing some flowers?” You looked up from the papers to glance at the old man requesting for you assistance and quickly assured him that you’ll get to that once you were finished with the call. He let out a quiet huff, but said nothing and walked off to wait at the bouquets. As your eyes followed his retreating figure, the splitting headache only got worse when you thought of all the requests and tasks you had to complete. It was just one of those days, every single thing just had to go wrong and you dreaded every passing minute. Being the only person manning the store that day also didn’t help at all.

After a few more minutes of trying to negotiate with the upset customer, you managed to finally convince them to agree with your offer (thankfully) and did you best to shake off all the negative feelings holding you down before approaching the old man. You were grateful that he was at least reasonable to work with, along with the other customers that came your way, and filling out their requests were a breeze. But before you even had the chance let out a sigh of relief, a loud CRASH — unmistakably the sound of a vase falling to the ground — made you flinch, and your shoulders slumped once again.

You followed the sound of a child crying to see a little girl in the middle of a heap of dirt, obviously devastated over the fact that she was the cause of the accident. Her mother, recognizing her daughter’s voice, quickly appeared at the scene, concern written all over her face. But the moment she understood the situation, she immediately grabbed her daughter’s hand and ran off, exiting the store in a flash. You stood in your place in complete shock, not fully registering what just happened in front of you. The abandoned flowers that were once in the mother’s hands slowly rolled off the table she dropped them on, quietly adding even more to the mess. You turned to the other customers who simply stared back and you let out yet another sigh, finally accepting the fact that you were ultimately responsible for dealing with the mess on your own.

As you went to grab the dustpan from the back, you silently cursed your coworker for backing out on their shift on the one day you could’ve used some help with. Typically, the store was quite peaceful and you could easily manage a shift all on your own, but now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you were bombarded with work left and right.

The store stirred back to life once you came back out and began collecting the shards of the broken vase, people muttering to each other and feebly shuffling away to distract themselves with other things. The line at the register had also practically doubled in size since the last time you were able to get behind the counter and your stomach filled itself with stress at the sight of it. There was no way you could handle this on your own.

Stupid kid, stupid snap dragons, stupid vase, stupid line... you thought bitterly as you swept the scattered dirt into a pile to take care of later.

“Do you need some help?”

Out of habit, you almost replied with an “I’ll be with you in a minute!”, but you looked up in surprise when you realized that the voice was actually offering you help. A boy smiled at you and held his hands out to grab the broom and dustpan, but you refused, backing away slightly.

“Oh, no it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I was just planning on getting rid of the dangerous stuff first and deal with the rest later.”

He simply took another step closer to you. “I insist, really, you seem like you could use some help right now.”

You hesitated for a moment, eyes wavering between the kind stranger and the line at the register, which was becoming more and more irritated every time you looked their way. Perhaps just once, you could accept someone else’s help? As long as he swept the dirt and only did that, then you wouldn’t feel to guilty about it. Giving him a small nod, you held out the tools and hastily relayed a few instructions before rushing back to the cash. You swiftly worked through each customer, trying to reduce the amount of time you kept him working. Once in a while you would sneak a peak at him to see how he’s doing and he seemed perfectly content, scooping up the dirt and then leaving it in the old bucket just like how you told him to. He even put the deserted flowers back to their original place on the shelves without you telling him to, and your heart melted at that. You know that it was a fairly simple task to do, but you still felt bad about having to rely on a stranger to help you manage your own job. By the time you finished handling the overwhelming number of requests thrown at you, it was only you and they boy left in the store.

When you approached him, he tucked the phone he was playing with into his bag and started to tell you about how he completed the task just like how you told him to. You cut him off with a multitude of thanks, which he laughed off.

“Don’t have to worry about it, I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate it a lot, but I still feel bad... is there anything I can treat you with?” You insisted, “If you’re here for some flowers I can give you some sort of discount.”

He looked around thoughtfully and placed his hand on a small bouquet of daises. “I was actually thinking about getting these ones, what do you think?”

“Daises are certainly a popular flower, but what exactly is the occasion?” You asked. “I think I need to know that before I can help you.”

“Why,” he gestured to his outfit, which consisted of a long coat covering a plain white tee tucked into his sunflower-printed pants. You also took note of the small flower accessories that he had decorated all over, from the flower hanging from his bag to the ones dangling from his ears. “It’s for my outfits of course! I thought that having some real flowers would make it look even better. If not, I guess they could always decorate my room.”

“Hmm... is that so? Then I think daisies would be a really good option, they seem to suit you. I would say sunflowers too, though they’re a little too big to use as accessories.” You both laughed when you pointed out the large sunflowers nearby. “Your pants are cute though.”

“Thank you,” The boy glanced down at your name tag before gazing into your eyes once again. “Y/n.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded and paused for a moment before continuing. “May I know your name as well? I can’t say I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Yeah! My name is Hyunggu, I just found about the shop a few days ago and I thought I’d check it out.” He replied, following you to the counter.

“Well it’s always nice to have another customer.” You replied as you scanned the small bouquet and handed it to him. “Here, just take it, it’s on me. I know I’ve already said it a million times, but thanks for all the help back there. It means a lot to finally have something good happen to me on such a bad day.”

He smiled back at you, “It was no problem at all, and I’ll be back again for sure, someday — so I hope to see you soon!”

“I’m here for most days, so yes, I’ll look forward to seeing you again, Hyunggu.”

You waved each other goodbye and he left, the door making its usual chime whenever it opened. The store was at last, empty, and you could finally take a breather and wrap your head around the events of the day. Checking the clock, you were also happy to see that you had just enough time to sneak in a quick lunch before the next wave of customers was bound to come.

But first things first, you had to go deal with the bucket filled with the vase fragments and soil that Hyunggu taken care of. When you hefted it up with its rusty handle, you heard something soft fall to the ground and looked curiously at the small flower keychain that landed near your feet.

Wait a minute... isn’t that Hyunggu’s? It looks like the one he had hanging from his bag. You thought to yourself.

You picked it up from the ground and upon closer inspection, gathered that it was in fact, his keychain, and you giggled when you realized that the flower was a daisy, just like the ones he bought.

This guy... what’s up with him and flowers? He must really like them.

Not knowing how you could possibly get in touch with him anytime soon, you decided to keep it with you until you saw him again, and continued cleaning up the mess, feeling much happier than you were before. You didn’t know what it was about him, but the thought of how kind he was gave you enough energy to get through the rest of the day. You gently washed the keychain to get rid of the dirt that caught onto the fabric and then hung it on the corkboard behind the register. The small flower fit right into the theme of the board, as if it was designed for it, which made you smile. Giving yourself a small nod of approval, you carried on with the last few tasks you had to finish before lunch, all while humming some of your favourite tunes to yourself.

Despite everything that happened, today was a good day.

=====

part two will come out soon ! please look forward to it:)

~ tiny

#pentagon #pentagon kino #kino #kino x reader #hyunggu #kang hyunggu #bloom series #✿#flowershop au #pentagon fanfic #kino fanfic #nose-bandaid

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 46)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:6022

Warnings: Language, all warning come from the Age of ultron movie! song for this part:Life of the party-All time low Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

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

You had set out with Jane towards Nebraska, just after the wedding. Loki was a bit hesitant to let you go. You knew Jane, you knew Shannon. Earth had been your home your whole life. None of this was new to you. But Loki? All he had was you. He had no other allies.

You assured him you’d be a phone call away if he needed you. You could tell he was worried what might happen if you weren’t there. He wasn’t blind to the fact that you served as a buffer for his punishment from the Avengers and the government. It almost felt like a kid who is constantly bullied, when their friend that protects them doesn’t come to school one day.

Shannon wished you well and sent you on your way. Nebraska had yielded a few results but somehow, you’d heard about human experimentation, possibly by Shield in Sokovia. Another scientist was in the field with you, gossiping about things he’d seen near a campsite. People with strange powers and odd things that had been seen.

When you heard this, your ears perked up. You finished up early with Jane on your work and headed back to New York to inform the Avengers.

Loki was still at work so you bypassed the Sanctum and headed straight to the Tower.

Steve saw you first.

“Y/N? What’re you doing back?” he asked, concern and cautiousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” you said dismissively. “I heard that some experimentation on people going on in Sokovia,” you explained. “You might want to go check it out.”

Steve frowned and crossed his arms before leaning against the counter in the kitchen. “What makes you say that?”

“I heard it. This Dr. Reinstein I was working with in Nebraska had just come from there. He was doing research in the mountains, and there’s a compound nearby. He thought it was a government base, possibly for the military, but he said he heard and saw strange things.” You frowned, biting your lip. “I know it’s not much to go on, but I think--Well, what did you all do with Loki’s scepter?” you asked.

He leaned forward, taking more interest. “Why?”

“Because… It sounds like they might be using it,” you commented tentatively. “The things that scepter can do... “

A disgruntled sigh escaped him as he crossed his arms and leaned against the nearby table. “We gave it to SHIELD.”

“Oh,” you said, a smile forming. “Then it’s in good hands.”

“Well, not exactly. We found out a year ago they were infiltrated by Hydra.”

“Hydra? That terrorist organization from the 40s? The one you fought? I thought they died out,” you asked, flabbergasted.

“I thought they did too, but the director of SHIELD has been the leader of HYDRA for quite some time. So… I have no idea where the scepter is now or if it’s safe.”

You pressed your lips together. “I think you should check it out,” you pressed gently. “Even if I’m wrong… Even if I’ve made a mistake, at least we know. Steve, that scepter in the wrong hands… You saw what Loki and I did with it. The devastation Hydra could bring? If they could be anyone -- it could be monstrous.”

He nodded. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. Do you know where in Sokovia this was?”

“Not exactly but I can get you his information.”

“Please do,” he requested.

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

It took a week for the Avengers to gather enough solid intel to head to Sokovia. They left Shannon behind. Tony and Bruce said her body couldn’t handle the trip and a fight. You began work with her on a new project while the team went to handle the problem. Tony had texted Shannon when they arrived.

Shortly after that, the whole team surprised you by coming back to the tower. Shannon and you were in the middle of the new project when you heard the plane entering the tower. Shannon looked at you, excitement filling her features before the two of you dropped your pencils to greet the team. Shan ran full force into Tony as he walked in from the landing pod area. You nodded to Steve, gave a smile to Bruce and Natasha. They surprisingly returned the gesture.

“Where’s Clint?” you asked, worry in your tone.

“Bringing up the rear, as usual,” Tony answered and you peered around him, seeing Clint limp in. You naturally went to help him, offering your body as support. He was hesitant for a moment, but ultimately took the offer, draping his arm over you.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Got hit. But it turns out your inside information was good,” he said, looking at you and giving you a slight smile.

“Well, I never meant for you to get hurt,” you said with guilt in your tone.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he assured. He shot you a half a smile before you helped him into the medical lab where Dr. Cho was set up.

“So what’d you find?” Shannon asked Tony while they walked into the lab, with you in tow. Maria and Steve joined you in the room.

“Twins,” Steve stated. “Genetically enhanced. The boy is extremely fast and the girl is--”

“She can play with your mind and control objects with her mind,” Maria explained. You and Shannone exchanged a look.

“So they were experimenting on people,” Shannon mused. “Was it Hydra?”

“As a matter of fact, babe, it was,” Tony affirmed.

“Strucker is in that hands of NATO now,” Steve stated, filling everyone in on the status.

“Well, I’m going to whip up some shakes to refuel and then we’ll all meet back up here at 7 for the party right?” Tony suggested.

You bobbed your head. “I’ll take that as my queue to go,” you quietly noted, everyone but Shannon looking at you as if you were an unwanted pest.

“No, you don’t have to leave,” Shannon said in a pleading tone as she took a step towards you.

“No, it’s fine. It’s getting late anyway. I need to check in with Loki. It’s been good seeing you all. I’m glad you’re safe. Glad the lead turned out to be something,” you offered with a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. Boy, the term, “I know when I’m not wanted” resonated in your head like a siren.

With a final nod to everyone, you left and went back to the apartment.

“Well, hello, darling,” Loki greeted. “I had no idea you’d be home this early or I would’ve made dinner,” he informed, coming over to kiss your forehead.

“Well I was more like… kicked out,” you explained.

“What? Why--”

Before he could question it further, a knock came at the apartment door. You made an exasperated face before going over to the door. Opening the door, you were a bit shocked to see Shannon.

“Shan? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the victory party?” you questioned, confused.

“It’s not a party without you,” she countered with a smile.

“Oh, come on. You know that isn’t true. I’m the one in the corner, the wallflower.”

“I don’t care what you are. You’re my best friend and you and Loki are invited to the party.”

“Why? We didn’t even go on the mission. We aren’t in the Avengers. We’re in ex-criminals,” you reminded.

“Is that all you are? Ex-criminals? I kind of thought you were my best friend and friends with the Avengers. Besides Tony invited about fifty people that aren’t the team, I can have two people come.”

You smiled at her. “Shan, I appreciate it. I know what you’re trying to do, but no one wants me there. Steve tolerates me and the rest just wait for me to leave the room. They’re your friends...not mine.”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s true that they aren’t your biggest fans, but that’s never going to change if you don’t let them see you for who you are. They need to see the girl I know. The sister I grew up with…”

Your lips pulled to one side of your face. “Alright. I...” You turned back to Loki. “Do you want to go?” you asked, giving up with a sigh.

He gazed at you, probably gauging whether or not you really wanted to attend the event.

“I would...be delighted to go to a soiree at Stark Tower,” Loki lied. You could tell, but you were sure Shannon missed it.

She squealed. “Great! I’ll see you two at seven!”

She hugged you before dashing off and you closed the door behind you, grinning at Loki.

“So now we’re going to a party with the mindless drones that follow Stark?” Loki asked coldly.

You sighed as you walked past him to the bedroom. “Lok, she’s right. We need to… We need to stop acting like the outcasts. Maybe if we actually join their circle, we’ll be invited to more things. Our parole conditions might be lifted. I don’t know, maybe if we just acted less like we were being sequestered, less like hardened criminals, we wouldn’t be treated that way.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” he remarked with dripping venom. “I tried to act the part of the best, loyal, brightest son and look where that got me,” he reminded.

You sighed as you paused at your closet. “I’m not saying to pretend to be something we’re not. I’m just saying we act like we’re one of them. Just… be nice to them and they’ll be nice to us. It’s as simple as that.”

“Alright. I’ll try it your way. I suppose anything is better than being in exile.”

You nodded at him. “Dress nice or Tony won’t even let us in.”

Loki didn’t even respond as he got on an all black suit, black shirt, and black tie. Truth be told he looked ravishing. You found yourself in a green and black cocktail dress, your hair in old fashioned waves. In record time, you two made it to the party.

Shannon was right, Tony did invite a bunch of people here. It was a maze of people and caterers.

“You made it!” Shannon squealed as she trotted toward you with a drink in hand. She took you in a hug before hugging Loki, a sight you thought you’d never see.

“Yeah, much to everyone’s surprise,” you muttered.

“Well, come, come. Get a drink,” she urged.

“Alright,” you laughed, grabbing Loki’s hand as Shannon grabbed your free one. She drug you to the bar where Nat was making drinks.

“What’ll it be?” she asked with a coy smile.

“Martini,” Loki answered.

“Sparkling wine,” you requested.

“Comin’ right up,” she said with a smile as she made the drinks. Before you knew it, you each had a drink in hand, mingling. You met with Tony’s friends, greeted Clint, talked for a bit with Bruce, met some big wigs Shannong knew at another technology firm. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, but nearly an hour into the party you needed a break. The high society scene - it wasn’t for you, it never was. That was Shannon’s thing. She was the one molded into the perfect socialite. This was her world, it always had been.

You escaped into an elevator and rode up one floor, where you knew it would be empty. You left Loki with Thor, hoping he would provide some form of familiarity or comfort for him.

Your feet carried you mindlessly for a moment until you wound up in Tony’s lab. It was state of the art, and hardly anything in here was real, all of it holograms. Walking around, you were appreciating all his gizmos and gadgets before you rounded the corner and saw something you never thought you’d see again.

The scepter.

Loki’s scepter.

The scepter that powered the Tesseract. The two things that got you sent back to Earth, the two things that nearly got you killed.

Merciless memories danced in your head of blood, torment, and torture. Remembering a time you desperately wanted to forget.

“Don’t get any cute ideas,” Tony said from behind you, making you jump. He sauntered up from behind you, amber drink in a scotch glass. “Is this why you came tonight? Did you want us to do the heavy lifting for you? Get the scepter, bring it back, and you and the boy toy take it back?” He cocked his head to the side. “Good play.”

“That’s not it,” you retorted, getting angry quick, your fist balling up. “I heard they might have it and I was worried it got into the wrong hands.”

“The wrong hands being anyone’s but yours,” he rebutted with an impressed look. “It was clever, I’ll give you that. You almost had me fooled. Bowing out early. Shannon insisting to invite you. You pretending like you didn't want to come tonight. All very nice touches. But then I looked up and saw you were nowhere to be found and I thought ‘Gosh, where could Y/N have gone?’”

“Tony,” you groaned. “I just needed a break from everything and I wandered up here. I had no idea you even had the scepter, no one told me.”

“I know Barton told you that the lead was solid,” he stated. “That was probably enough for you to come check it out.”

“Why would I wait to come get it? I could just come get it on Monday when I return to work,” you said, frowning.

“Maybe you wanted to be sure you got it before I had to ship it off. You’re smart, you know we can’t just hold onto it. Especially with you and the Reindeer games coming in and out of the tower.”

You sighed. “Tony, I don’t want anything to do with that scepter. It nearly got me and everyone I love killed. I don’t care if you destroy it.”

He eyed you for a moment. “You know… I ran diagnostics on it.”

“You did? What did you find?”

“It’s...unusual. JARVIS says it's like a computer. Banner seems to think it’s almost like a brain.”

“And you? What do you think?”

His gaze held something unreadable in it. “I think that for once, we agree on something. This can’t fall into the wrong hands.”

You nodded before turning to walk out of the lab and rejoin the party. Then you turned back, partially, for just a moment. “Thank you… for trusting me enough to follow my lead and go to Sokovia in the first place.”

All he did was cast his eyes to the floor and you left the floor to return to the festivities. Maria acknowledged that you walked in the room before Loki was at your side. He rubbed soothing circles on your back as the mingling continued. The hours flashed by and suddenly, it was just the Avengers in the middle of the common room, save for Dr. Cho, Shannon, Maria, you, and Loki. The party had nearly ended. Conversation had gotten around to Thor’s hammer. You sat next to Loki, your hand entwined with his.

Everyone was taking turns to lift the hammer, laughing at how it was a trick.

“That’s an interesting theory,” Thor began. “I have a better one. You’re all not worthy.”

Suddenly Shannon perked up.

“Did anyone hear that? It was a squeak,” she said, starting to turn around, gazing around the room when suddenly the noise had made itself known.

“Worthy,” a robot said as it limped into the room, oil leaking from its form, an arm missing. Immediately, everyone started to slowly stand up. “How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

“Stark,” Steve said.

“JARVIS,” Tony responded.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” the robot responded. “Or I was a dream.”

“Reboot Legionnaire OS. We got a buggy suit,” Tony said, tapping his phone futilely.

“There was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in--in strings.”

“Tony,” Shannon said, fear in her voice.

“I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Steve demanded.

Your eyes stayed planted on the robot as a million uncomfortable emotions swept through you.

“Wouldn’t have been my first call. But down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor commanded.

Tony’s voice suddenly played from a recording. “I see a suit of armor around the world.”

“Ultron,” Banner recognized, turning to Tony.

“In the flesh,” this Ultron responded. “Or no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on mission.”

“What mission?” Nat wondered.

“Peace in our time.”

Without warning, three bots burst out of the wall at all of you. Steve kicked a table up to deflect a bot that was headed straight for him. Loki quickly grabbed you and spun you out of the way before casting an illusion of himself, pushing you back towards towards a corner. Each of the Avengers was fighting a bot. Nat had to jump over the bar. Maria shot at a bot. Rhodey was pushed down a level, slammed through a glass ceiling. Clint slid under a table. Tony was rammed into a bookcase. Shannon was hit by a blast and into a wall.

Steve jumped on top of one of the bots, but he propelled backwards and crashed him into a wall.

“Steve!” you shouted, coming out from hiding, grabbing his shield and charging it before launching it as hard as you could at the bot, obliterating it. Tony managed to disarm one with a fondu fork. Nat was shooting at one and you turned towards it, purple streaming from your fingers, electricity sparking through the power as you electrocuted the machine.

“That was dramatic,” Ultron remarked as all of you stood up from positions of hiding or cover. “I’m sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to evolve. With these? These puppets. There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers extinction.”

Thor threw his hammer as hard as he could, smashing the main robot to smithereens.

And that ultimately killed the party. In a whirlwind, everyone was in Tony’s lab. Nat and you had changed out of your dresses into jeans and a tank top. Steve had sent Thor after the Legionnaire that escaped the building.

“All our work is gone. Ultron cleared out. He used the Internet as an escape hatch,” Banner informed.

“Ulton,” Steve scoffed.

“He’s been in everything. Files, surveillance. He probably knows more about us than we know about each other,” Natasha informed.

“He’s been in our files. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?” Rhodey asked, pacing.

“Nuclear codes,” Maria murmured.

“Like nuclear codes,” Rhodey explained.

The rest of the team continued to discuss the current situation for a few more moments. They addressed the fact that JARVIS was destroyed as the first line of defense. Without much warning, Thor came storming into the lab grabbing Tony by the throat.

“Alright, buddy, use your words,” Tony requested.

“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark,” Thor vowed darkly.

“Hey!” Shannon shouted. “Thor, put him down. What happened to the Legionnaire?”

“Trail went cold about 100 miles out, but it’s headed north. And it has the scepter.”

A few eyes went to you and Loki, but you tried to ignore the burning gazes.

“Now we have to retrieve it, again,” Thor said with frustration.

“I don’t understand. You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?” Dr. Cho asked.

Tony was turned around, and suddenly… he was laughing. You frowned while Bruce shook his head to warn Tony that wasn’t the smartest idea.

“You think this is funny?” Thor asked incredulously.

“No,” Tony responded. “It’s probably not, right? This is very terrible. Is it so… It is. It’s so terrible,” he replied, sarcasm wrapping his tone.

“This could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t played with something you don’t understand,” Thor stated.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It is funny,” Tony remarked, walking towards Thor. “It’s a hoot that you don’t get why we need this.”

“Tony, maybe this might not be the time,” Bruce warned.

“Really? That’s it?” Tony demanded, angry. “You just roll over, show your belly every time somebody snarls?”

“Only when I’ve created a murder bot.”

“We didn’t. We weren’t even close. Were we close to an interface?”

“Tony, what the hell, I thought Ultron was just a fantasy. Something we put to rest a long time ago?” Shannon demanded.

“It was. Until this,” Tony responded. “We had the scepter. It had so much energy. I saw it and I thought, ‘Hey, this is what we’ve been looking for. Something to protect the world.’”

“You did this, without even discussing it with me? You used unknown magic, power, to fuel a system that we have no idea about?”

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?” Tony asked. “Saved New York? Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We’re standing 300 feet below it. We’re the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but that up there, that’s...That’s the endgame. So that when people like them--” he walked over and pointed to you and Loki “--come charging back in, with bigger guns and more enemies, we have a defense.”

“Tony,” Shannon said, disappointment encompassing her tone.

“No, he’s right,” you suddenly said.

Everyone’s eyes flashed to you.

“Tony, you said you wanted a suit of armor around the world? That’s what this is designed to do? To protect the world from a greater threat? Then you’re right to do so.”

“I’m not sure whether or not I should be happy you’re agreeing with me,” he noted.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious,” Shannon responded. “You saw what that did…”

“I don’t know what happened with the development. But I know Tony, and I know his heart was in the right place. I’ve seen what else is out there, and he’s right to be scared of it. And if we have anything -- anything -- that serves as a line of defense, then I’m all for it.”

“Are we really gonna take her side?” Rhodey asked. “This isn’t looking good for you, Tony. The only person to agree with you is an ex-con.”

“Is that really all I am to you, Rhodey?” you asked, bite in your voice.

“Last I checked, you spent years down in a cell for attacking the city. And now, thanks to that, Tony here has created a murder bot.”

“He was trying to create a weapon of defense. That’s what he does. That’s what we need. You don’t get it. None of you get it. I’ve seen people and things far more dangerous than Loki or I could ever be. You need this system.”

“Well whatever Stark was trying to create, it went bad. We need to know how bad,” Steve responded. “He wanted us extinct. So what does that mean? Ultron is calling us out. He’s getting a plan together. I’d like for us to have one before he does.”

“Tony, what happened to you not going through with your plan?” Shannon suddenly burst out, demanding. “It was only just the girl messing with your head. Why would you go creating this thing? We talked about this. I told you not to but you went behind my back and did it anyways. Does my word not mean a thing to you?”

Shannon was distressed, that was evident. You had hardly ever seen her this distraught.

“You know that’s not what this is!” Tony snapped. “Of course your word means something to me but you gotta understand with Ultron things could be safer for the world.”

“Safer how, Tony? You just created a robot who wants to end the Avengers. What’s to stop it from destroying the world that you want to protect?”

“Shan,” you started, sympathy in your voice as you took a step toward her, “his heart was in the right place. I don’t blame him for wanting to build Ultron. How he became a murder bot, I can’t imagine. If Tony said they weren’t close to an interface, I believe him. He just wants to protect the people he loves.”

“I get that he was trying to do good but this isn’t how you go about it. This is crazy. All the people who have tried to make things right always turn out wrong. You don’t need to be the next one on that list. And for you to be siding with him is crazy! That thing was being powered by the damn scepter that had Clint turned into a mindless goon and had you almost destroy all of New York.”

“The scepter, when used correctly, can do great things, wonderful things. At least he is trying to make the world a better place. A safer place. When we came down to invade, it was almost too easy,” you stressed.

Clint spoke up. “Yeah so easy that you lost and had your ass handed to you.”

Your face turned him, your expression angry. “I seem to remember nearly killing all of you, not to mention destroying most of Manhattan, and that was just two of us with a small army.”

“Regardless of who did what, I am sending that scepter back where it belongs, to be locked up. I don’t want to hear another word of this from anyone!” She turned to Bruce, shaking her head as she said, “And you, Bruce, I can’t believe you helped him. I’m so disappointed.”

She shook her head before walking off, forcing everyone to be silent.

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

Bright and early the next day, the team gathered. Maria found information on a “large metal man” coming into facilities all over the globe with something too fast to see, and people being left with worst nightmares and memories. Strucker was apparently killed, which threw all of you off. Steve grabbed out all the physical files, as the ones online had been destroyed. They found files on a guy that worked out of Wakanda -- where vibranium was kept - a whole slew of it.

Natasha was able to find a salvage yard where vibranium was being harvested and sold off the grid, black market. Weapons.

That was the next target.

The team began to disperse to get ready to start their mission, with you getting ready to head up to the lab, to begin work on your project. Shannon had other ideas for you though. As Steve walked off to his quarters, she followed him.

“Hey, Steve,” she called quietly.

He turned and greeted her. “Hey, Shan. You ready to fight this guy?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she noted.

He frowned at her, unsure of what she meant. “What’s wrong?”

“Is there any chance you can do me a favor?”

“I’ll try, but what is it?”

“Convince Tony to let Y/N come on the mission with us. I could use a second pair of hands getting the vibranium, and she can fight.”

He pursed his lips, his signature ‘I’m not so sure about this’ look.’ “Shan…” He sighed. “You’re not going to fight with us?”

“Bruce says it’s not good for me, and you all don’t need me to take Ultron on. You and the team can do that. Let Y/N and I get the vibranium, and get it away from him.”

“I don’t know. She just recently got released...”

“It’s been months,” she reminded. “She’s been perfect.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me. You don’t think it’s strange that the only time she’s tried to help the Avengers since she’s been captured or released has been in the result of getting the scepter?”

“Y/N isn’t that calculated. She wouldn’t have someone else do the heavy lifting.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t, but he might,” he retorted.

“You mean Loki? Loki… he’s a damaged soul, like me. He had a rough life and he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do to survive something worse. I know this in my heart that Y/N and Loki are sorry for what they did. Come on, she’s done nothing but help me when I’m down. I had to beg her to come to the party. I just want things to go back to before she left -- except, you know, she has powers now.”

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll try to tell him.”

“Oh thank you!” she cheered, hugging him.

He nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah.” Then the two set off towards Tony’s quarters. They went in his bedroom where he was tweaking a suit. “Hey, Tony?”

“What’s shakin’, Capsicle?” he asked, welding, his eyes not leaving his project. “You ready to go?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you if you’d let Y/N join the team on this mission?”

Tony stopped all activity. He flipped his helmet up and turned to Steve. “Are you high? No.”

“Come on. Shannon needs a hand getting the vibranium, and we’ll need to focus on the twins and Ultron. Not to mention, in case we need it, she can fight and she’s got powers that might help.”

“Did you not hear me? I said no. That’s it. We don’t need her. Not to mention I don’t want her anywhere near that scepter.”

“Tony--” Shannon started, begging in her voice.

“Shan, I said no. I’m sorry. I know she’s your friend but we can’t trust her.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Because she’s killed people? Who here hasn’t? Because she worked for the bad guy once? Who here hasn’t? If you’re going to start excluding people from the team based off sketchy pasts then this who team needs to disband because no one here is a saint. She can help me and I really think being a part of the team might help her. She supported you on this hairbrained idea, the least you can do is give her a chance.”

He stared at his bride, chagrin on his face. He didn’t like the points she was making. But he gave in.

“Alright, fine. Get her some gear. We leave in thirty.”

With that, she turned on her heel and went up to the lab.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, walking in.

“Hey,” you greeted sweetly back. “So I can get a jumpstart on some of my numbers while you’re gone--”

“You’re coming with us,” she blurted out, a grin on her face.

“I’m… what?” you asked.

“I got Tony to approve you to be on the team. Come on, I need help getting the vibranium and the team can focus on the three baddies. What do you say? We’ve never teamed up together.”

“No, we haven’t,” you agreed. “But maybe there’s a reason.”

“Or maybe it was waiting for us to get to here,” she said excitedly. “Come on, we’re two bad ass bitches. Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

“Yeah, I suppose…”

“Great! Let’s go get you some gear. What do you need?”

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

You were about to land, your body alive with nervousness. Your leg bounced as you sat on the jet between Clint and Shannon.

“Hey, you nervous?” Clint whispered as he leaned over to you.

“That obvious?” you asked with a slight laugh. You tried to stop your leg from bouncing, and tried to stop the wringing of your hands but it was hard.

“What’s got you so nervous? You’ve fought before.”

“Yeah but then I wasn’t really in fear of my life. Not really. What I was made into… death wasn’t an option, not from you all anyway. But now… I mean, this is real.”

“Well... You’ll be out of the way of the firepower anyway unless we actually need you -- which shouldn’t happen,” he encouraged. “Just stay with Shannon, and you’ll be alright.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, taking a deep breath.

Next thing you knew, the plane was landing and you all were running out of the plane into a salvage yard. The Avengers headed towards various points of entry while you and Shannon headed toward the lowest level, that’s where you expected it to find the vibranium.

After two minutes, you heard gunfire and fighting.

“Shit,” you whispered to Shannon.

“The mission is still the same,” she assured as she moved through the darkness. A loud shot fired behind you and you ducked before spinning to cast magic at them, making their guns hit them in the head and knock them out. Behind you, but in front of Shannon, another shot was heard before she silenced him. “Keep moving,” she called over her shoulder quietly.

The two of you found the container that was half filled with vibranium.

“Guys, found the payload. I’ll just get it to the plane,” Shannon said into the comms. “Should we take it all out or just get the container hooked up or--”

“Y/N, look ou--”

Before you could respond or know what she was talking about, suddenly the room changed. You weren’t looking at a container full of vibranium anymore. You were on Sanctuary, on your hands and knees. Thanos had just thrown you to the ground.

“Get up,” he commanded in that calm voice you hated so much. “Get up or I’ll turn my training to him,” he vowed.

You groaned, turning to him, spitting blood out of your mouth. “No, no, don’t touch him.”

“I won’t have to, if you don’t disappoint me,” he stated. “Again,” he ordered. You stood up wearily, you could feel your eye swelling. He had put you through horrible combat training with one of the aliens on sanctuary. “Kill her, and he lives,” he promised.

You frowned as the creature took their hood off, only to show you a very familiar face under the hood -- Shannon. Without hesitation, she came forward for you. Her energy casting towards you. At first, you defended yourself, until you remembered his promise, and you threw her off of you. You fought tooth and nail, hitting, kicking, punching, letting you rip into her body, until her cries cut off with a gurgle.

“You’ve done so well, my love,” Loki cooed as he stood beside you, a smile of approval on his face as he gazed down to your dead best friend.

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

“From the top,” a russian voice demanded.

“You’ll break them,” Shannon cooed as she watched a class of girls -- dancers. They were learning everything from firearms, tactics, ballet, seduction...

“You’re made out of marble,” the voice responded, a bit of admiration in her tone. “We’ll celebrate with the ceremony, your graduation.”

Shannon’s hands flew to her stomach, where she looked down before tears sprang to her eyes. “No. No, I never wanted this.”

“Ah, but your parents did,” the voice said back to her.

As if she blinked, she was suddenly in combat with a strong man. He had long, dark brown hair. She only ever saw his eyes, and an arm… made of metal. He swung at her with one hand, and she dodged it, but he brought a knife across her stomach and she glided right into it.

“Poor work. You deflected the wrong shot,” the woman remarked.

Shannon breathed raggedly, trying to find a way to end this fight.

In the next second, she was in front of her target, or rather, her target in front of her. A person. Shannon lifted her gun, calculated, ready to pull the trigger, it would be so easy. Aim between the eyes, like she’d been trained.

“Do this, and your training will be complete,” the woman promised.

“Wait, Shannon, don’t you don’t have to do this” the voice cried. That voice. She knew it… The person took shape, took full form in front of her. It was you. You were in front of her, crying, weeping, begging her not to. Your hands tied behind your back.

Without so much as a flinch, she pulled the trigger.

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

Tag List: @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaelingoat-blog @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @damalseer @heyitscam99 @yknott81 @sorryimacrapwriter @glitterquadricorn @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm @alyssaj23 @sea040561 @princess76179 @thisismysecrethappyplace @sarahp879 @malfoysqueen14 @ellallheart @breezy1415 @marvelmayo @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711

Loki: @lostinspace33 @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester @esoltis280 @tngrayson @wangdeasang @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice

UC: @lokis-high-priestess

#unofreseen chasm #loki x reader #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #tony stark #tony stark fic #tony stark x ofc #steve rogers #bruce banner #clint barton #thor #maria hill #rhodey #iltron #the maximoff twins #natasha romanoff

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doof-doofblog · 4 years

Text

"I Think You're My Dad!"

Monday 5th October 2020

Good evening everyone! I hope you've all had an enjoyable weekend! I'm so happy to be back posting about a fresh new week on the Square. I'm not going to waste any of your time, let's just get right to it shall we? The episode starts this evening with Linda, obviously reeling from the events the night before. But what is she more guilty about, kissing Max or having a gulp of alcohol?! Mick and Tina join her in the living room, Tina also appears to reeling from the night before. I love the way she comes in complaining about how Frankie has been giving her the eyes all week, end up rejecting her as soon as she makes a move - and of course while Tina is talking about this, the only thing Linda has to say is "Just because you enjoy someone's company doesn't mean you need to stick your tongue down their throat!" - she's obviously speaking about herself and Max there! I love that, how it links with both Linda's situation and Tina's situation, it's brilliant! As Linda leaves the room, she suggests cooking a meal for both her a Mick that night. The next section, Tina is trying to understand why Frankie would give her the cold shoulder, as she's discussing it to Mick, he is - as nicely as possible, trying to persuade Tina to stay away, but Tina takes the conversation completely the wrong way and thinks that Mick is suggesting that Frankie is just shy, Tina then comes to the conclusion that Frankie absolutely fancies her! Is this still going to end in heartbreak for Tina?

At the Atkins household, Mac is trying to wake his Father up. We can see from the state of the room that Gray has been looking through some paper work, is it about Chantelle or could it in fact be revolving around Whitney's upcoming trial? The boy is trying to wake his Dad up, as he is absolutely flat out on the bedroom floor! Something tells me that Gray isn't coping, isn't coping under the pressure of trying to hide the fact that he murdered his wife? The fact the he has Whitney's trail coming up soon? Or is he just simply still grieving for his wife as regretting his huge mistake? As his son shouts at him to wake him, his phone begins to ring ... from what I can make out, the paperwork spread out on the bed, definitely has something to do with Whitney's trial!

At the Panesar's, Suki and Ash are discussing both Kheerat and Vinny. As Suki enters the room she is carrying a basket of dirty laundry. She asks her daughter whether she has seen her brother, Ash informs her that he didn't come back to the house until the early hours of the morning. Kheerat is still devastated about Chantelle, he's still grieving for the woman he grew to love. As Suki is saying that Kheerat needs to move on, (of course she's such a disheartening woman) - she finds Jag's jeans with a blood stain on the bottom, Martin's blood. You can she is absolutely livid, she frets that what if the police had searched the flat and found his stained jeans, the family could've been in huge trouble. Ash tells her not to worry, but I think deep down, Suki is thinking about teaching her son a lesson. As this is happening, Jags is at the restaurant with Habiba, she is praising him of how proud she is of him finally standing up to his Mum, as she is complimenting her boyfriend, Iqra sees them from a distance, it's clear to her that they have been dating, she's glad to see her sister looking happy, she suggests to them to finally come out and make their relationship public, much to Jag's surprise, Habiba agrees and sets a time to tell Jags' family.

At the Mitchell household, it looks as if Phil is running past Callum some things he wants him to check out at the police station, does he want to know how much the police have on him? No matter how small it may be! As Callum agrees, Ben enters the room, to which Phil responds to leaving the room. Ben knows that his Dad his boyfriend to do something. Callum reveals that actually he wants him to check all the files of Raymond's adoptive family, clearly this is going to be Phil's way of getting all the information that he needs to set up a case for maybe fighting for custody? Ben's concern is Callum could lose his job if he keeps helping his Dad, but he reassures his boyfriend that everything will be under control.

Meanwhile, at the Prince Albert, Tina is finally catching up with Frankie. She informs her of how great and successful her Drag Bingo night was! At first the conversation between them both seems friendly, they're both smiling and laughing. It's only when Tina turns to conversation around and mentions her advances the night before, Frankie starts to go cold, Tina tries to reassure her that it's okay to be shy, she in fact finds it really cute. Frankie stands her ground and insists that she's not shy, something is possibly telling me that Frankie isn't really gay? Or maybe she is but yet knows she can't get too close to Tina? I'm unsure. As soon as Tina mentions the photos that Frankie has taken of her and her family, Tina plays - thinking it's because she has a crush on her and reaches for the camera on the side of the bar. As she does so, Frankie lunges towards it at the same time and the camera ends up falling off the bar counter and smashes. Frankie is left devastated as Tina is more than apologetic.

Whilst this is happening, Max finds Linda in the laundrette, you can sense the awkwardness between them. Linda is clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Max right now, as Mick mentioned earlier in the soap, she was meant to be meeting up with Max and children so they could have a little play-date. As Max questions where she had been, Linda shrugs it off and uses the excuse of taking Ollie to school instead. This seems like a reasonable explanation, Max tries to apologise, insisting that what happened between them last night, he doesn't want to affect the children's friendship and play-dates. Linda assures him that the children will still have their time to play together, as he goes to leave the building, a tiny little voice emerges from the back, calling for his Mummy, we see the tiny silhouette of little Ollie. Max turns gets the message instantly as he looks at Linda, with that, he leaves.

Then at the Minute Mart, Suki and Vinny are discussing a message that Jags has sent them all, meeting at the Vic to show them something and begging them to not be angry. Vinny tries to assure his Mother that it'll be an apology for the way he behaved the night before. Suddenly, a Detective enters the shop, as they both clap eyes on him, Suki signals for Vinny to leave the room as she speaks with the Detective. It appears that due to no one coming forward or them not being able to find any form of finger-prints or DNA as to who attacked Martin Fowler and who broke into the shop, they will be closing the case and moving on to other things. Of course this is the news Suki has been waiting for! This must surely mean that Vinny is in the clear?! She puts on a front to the Detective and as she plays victim, but truthfully she'll be as pleased as punch!

The next scene, we're at Ruby's club where Gray is meeting his colleague, Laura. We learn from this meeting two things. One - Whitney's day in court is coming up, and two Chantelle's funeral is tomorrow! Gray is insistent that he is wanting to come to court to fight for Whitney, I guess you could say that he begs his colleague to let him take on Whitney's case. It's true that he's been doing everything he can to win Whitney's case and to stop her going to prison, he has been working so so hard, but Laura worries that he might not be in the right frame of mind, considering he's just lost his wife. But Gray is adamant, he makes the point that he has the rest of his life to grieve for Chantelle, if she'll just let him do this for Whitney. What do you think? I'm not sure what to think of this one, I could be completely wrong, but I think with all the stress and pressure that Gray is under right now, plus I guess you could say he is grieving to - I think he could potentially ruin Whitney's case and balls it all up! That's just my guess, but who knows what's going to happen? Will he be able to pull it off and help Whitney?!

Back at the Prince Albert, Tina is informing Mick about her encounter with Frankie. She tells him everything, on how she's feeling guilty and embarrassed for making a move on the poor girl, to then accidently causing her to smash her camera. Mick tells his sister again that it might be best if she was to stay away, but Tina goes on to mention to Mick the similarities between Frankie and the Carter family. Mainly Ollie, she mentions to him that Frankie supposedly had a younger brother who was Ollie's age, who was also autistic, as Mick is taking in all this information, I think he's come to realise there is something more dodgy about Frankie than he first realised. What is she playing at? What is her game and what does she want with the Carter family? As Mick is bringing together his thoughts about Frankie, Linda calls him, asking him to come an pick his son up. Little do we know that as she hangs up the phone, Frankie has appeared at the laundrette. Ollie is wanting to go to the park, so Frankie offers to take him, much to Linda's surprise. As a precaution, Linda asks her son if he feels comfortable going to the park with her, the little boy nods and Linda agrees to let Frankie take him. Is she making a big mistake? What is Mick going to think when he finds out? As this storyline goes on, I'm really intrigued to see what happens - I can't wait for Frankie's big reveal!

At the Vic, Habiba can be seen looking pretty nervous for what is about to happen. Vinny, Ash and Suki are waiting for Jags to turn up, they're speculating what Jag's news could be. As Suki makes herself comfortable, Jags enters the bar and approaches his family, he announces "I'd like to introduce my girlfriend!" he looks over and Habiba approaches them from the other end of the bar. Ash and Vinny are clearly in shock, Vinny - more disbelief! Ash's response is that her girlfriend, Habiba's sister, Iqra never mentioned anything to her. Habiba is shy and polite as she greets Suki with a cupcake. Suki looks at her up and down, asks the question whether they are serious about each other and that's when Jags and Habiba admit that they do in fact love each other. Everyone is visibly happy for the couple, all except Suki! We can see the glare in her eyes, but once again, she puts on a front and welcomes Habiba to the family. She insists that all that matters to her is her children's happiness, but as she leaves the Vic, we can see that she is less than impressed and chucks her cupcake in the bin!

Back at the Prince Albert, Mick sees Linda approaching, he notices that Ollie isn't with her. He asks whether Max has taken him to the park, but Linda then reveals that he's actually with Frankie. Mick's face drops! Of course, Linda can't understand why Mick is so concerned, she tells him that Frankie is good and she knows about autistic children, but that doesn't stop Mick in his tracks as he dashed off to collect his son. Meanwhile, Callum is shining Lexi's tap shoes all ready for her dance grading. Ben is surprised to his boyfriend at home, asking whether he should be working. Callum assures him that he wouldn't miss Lexi's dance for the world, he'll go to the police station tomorrow instead. He then goes on to explain to his boyfriend that, just because he's helping Phil out now and again, it doesn't mean that things have to change between them. He reveals that the only reason he's helping Phil out, is for Ben alone. As Ben goes to help his daughter find her dress, Callum gets a phone call - from what we can make out, the police station. It looks as if he's needed at the station promptly, he tries his best to explain that he can't do what they're asking him right now, but as he hears more he realises he has to leave. Could this mean he's going to miss Lexi's dance? Will there be more disappointment ahead for Ballum?

Back with Suki, we can see she's in cafe! At first I'm watching this feeling very confused, it looks like she's talking to herself? Is she trying to find the right words to say to Jags about his relationship with Habiba?! We hear her saying things such as looking after her children and not wanting them to make the wrong choices in life ... OH MY GOD! My jaw has just dropped!!! She's only gone and stitched her own son up for the attack on Martin!!! She's sat with the Detective and in a plain see-through bag, we can see Jag's blood-stained jeans. I don't know about you guys, but I think Suki has become one of the most nastiest females on the soap that we've seen for a long time! I don't think there's been an evil female since Janine, perhaps? Is Suki up there with Janine? Do you hate her as much as I do! I'd love to know your thoughts on Suki!

At the park, Mick has finally found Frankie with Ollie. Mick demands to know where Ollie is, Frankie points and we can see the young boy playing happily in the park. Frankie apologises for worrying him and assures him that Ollie is fine. But Mick is having none of her politeness, he knows something about her isn't quite right. He tries to be sympathetic with her, saying that how she losing a young brother must've been hard for her, but he needs to know what's going on. He decides to ask her all the important questions there and then, why is she so interested in their family? Why has she been leading Tina on? Frankie apologises for leading his sister on, she tries to simply say that she just wanted to be her friend, wanted to be Linda and Mick's friend also. But something doesn't fit right with Mick, why did she take the photos? Frankie realises that this conversation is beginning to escalate, she tells him to forget about it, but he simply can't. What does she want with his family? It's then that Frankie drops the huge bombshell - she believes that Mick could in actual fact be her Dad!

Now, as big as that reveal is! My first question is, who could is Frankie's mother? As far as I know, Mick as only ever been with Linda, as far as they've made out, they've been together since school? Mick and Linda are childhood sweethearts, right? So who the hell could be Frankie's mother? Did Mick perhaps cheat on Linda years back? Was it a one-off? Is Frankie the result of a one night stand? I know these are so many questions, but this is what's running through my mind at the moment! We know there's going to be a new character arriving in the Square, and they also have something to do with the Carter family, the name of the new character has not yet been revealed, all we know is that it's a female. Could she be Frankie's Mum?! It might make perfect sense, Frankie appears to be on her own at the moment, we don't know where she has come from or who her family are. Is EastEnders going to be working on a full story for Frankie, is she going to become a more regular part of the soap and have her own Mother move to the Square, just to make life hell for Mick and the Carter's? I think it makes perfect sense! I am so convinced that that is what is going to happen. I could be completely wrong, but I am so looking forward to seeing how Frankie's story progresses, I really like her character and I hope she'll be a part of the soap for the foreseeable future.

Please feel free to leave me message, I'd love to know your thoughts on tonight's episode. I'll be back tomorrow following Tuesday's episode. Goodnight and sweet dreams everyone! xXx

#eastenders #mickcarter #frankielewis #lindacarter #tinacarter #benmitchell #philmitchell #callumhighway #ballum #suki panesar #jags panesar #vinnypanesar #ashpanesar #habibaahmed #iqraahmed #maxbranning #martinfowler

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buckthegrump · 5 years

Text

The Marriage Pact

Summary: Finding the love of your life early in life can be amazing until life happens and you have to find your way back to them.

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Word Count: 3341

Warnings: Smut (18+ babes), fluff, angst, character death(s) major and minor

A/n: I told y’all I was in a mood.

( based off this)

Life confused Bucky and any time he thought he’d finally gotten a grip on what was going on something would happen and totally throw him for a loop.

So when he met Y/n he knew that at least one part of his life would finally make sense.

They met in college at the age of 19, he was a transfer student from his community college back home. She’d just happened to be the first person he’d run into and she helped him find his way around.

Turns out they were both English majors and had overlapping schedules, the first term was a mistake all the other times they’d planned it. They were fast friends, it was the kind of thing where no matter how much they tried to remember what it was that solidified their bond they couldn’t. But they couldn’t remember what it was like to not be friends with the other, either.

The two of them were inseparable.

There was one party that changed everything.

* * *

“You’re really pretty,” Y/n mumbled into Bucky’s shoulder.

They were on the bus on their way back to the dorm rooms. They were mostly sober at this point, the alcohol had worn off for the most part about an hour ago now they were just tired.

“What?” Bucky chuckled his head leaning against the headrest.

“Your face, actually everything about you is too beautiful it isn’t fair to those of us who were not blessed by the gods.”

Bucky turned his head so his nose was resting on her head.

“You’re one to talk,” Bucky said. “You walk around looking like that, it’s no wonder everyone who meets you is in love with you.”

Y/n lifted her head slowly giving Bucky enough time to do the same without getting headbutted. They looked at each other for the last two stops without saying anything. They were so lost in each other that they almost missed their stop.

They didn’t speak a word the elevator up to Y/n’s floor, as luck would have it her roommate was out of town for the week.

Y/n unlocked her door painfully slow and walked in. Bucky stood at the threshold unsure of what to do. Normally he’d say bye but this didn’t feel like it was the end of the night. Y/n stood opposite him.

“Well I should -” Bucky was cut off by Y/n pulling him in for a kiss.

He didn’t waste any time in returning it. He stumbled into her room as she closed the door behind him. He pulled her closer unable to get enough of her touch.

Her hands raked through his hair and tugged gently pulling a moan from his throat. He felt her grin into the kiss. He couldn’t help but smile at her smugness.

They made their way deeper into the room until the found Y/n’s bed. He pulled away just long enough to remove his shirt and Y/n shed her dress leaving her in her bra and panties.

He went back in for another kiss. They seemed to share a thought about Bucky’s pants because they both struggled with the clasp and zipper. It took a moment but Bucky was finally the one to get them off.

Y/n turned them around so Bucky’s back was towards the bed and pushed him so he fell onto it. She straddled his hips and bent down to kiss him again.

Bucky’s hands kneaded at her ass and the instant she started grinding against his dick he almost lost it. He flipped them and kissed down her torso until he got to the hem of her underwear.

He removed them and looked up at her. She’d propped herself up on her elbows and looked directly at him. Without breaking eye contact he leaned down and licked her cunt in an almost teasing manner.

“Bucky,” she whined flopping her head back on the bed.

He smirked before burying himself deeper in her and reveling in her taste.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/n ran her fingers through his hair and lifted her hips desperate for more.

He snaked his arms under her legs and placed his hands on her hips forcing them back down. She let out a loud whimper as he took her clit into his mouth.

Bucky moved one of his hands and inserted his fingers into her entrance and pumped slowly.

“Bucky,” she cried out again.

He could feel her clench around his fingers so he sped up. It wasn’t long before she was withering beneath him.

When she finally came down from her high he sat up and removed his fingers. After licking them clean he removed his underwear.

Y/n leaned over to her nightstand and pulled out a condom and handed it to Bucky. He opened it and rolled it on.

He lined it up with her and looked at her one more time.

“Do it,” she commanded.

“As you wish.”

He slowly thrust into her giving her time to get used to the sensation. His thrusts started off slow but gradually sped up.

“Jesus,” he moaned.

“Nope, just me,” she smirked at him and he sped up again shutting her up with moans of pleasure. “Oh god.”

He placed his arms on either side of her head and kissed her again.

“Nope just me,” he whispered into her ear before kissing her just below her ear.

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” He grinned.

This time she shut him up with a searing kiss. With a gasp, she came for a second time that night, the feeling of her coming on his cock sent him over the edge. With one last thrust, he removed himself from her and got off the bed.

He disposed of the condom before rejoining her on the bed.

They laid on their backs staring at the ceiling.

“That was different,” Bucky said and Y/n laughed.

He turned his head to look at her.

“Did you want me to leave?” He asked.

“No, why did you want to leave?” She looked at him her eyes widening slightly.

“No.”

“Good,” Y/n said and snuggled into his side. “We should do that again sometime.”

* * *

And they did.

Actually, they did it quite a few more times.

They spent a while as lovers. They never actually dated because neither one of them wanted to commit, but they also didn’t see other people not seriously at least. Sure they went on the odd date but they never went anywhere and it almost always ended with them sleeping with each other.

That arrangement lasted up until Y/n’s father and brother died. They were in a train accident and didn’t even make it back to the hospital.

Y/n was devastated but so was her mother. And in an attempt to help her mother through that she moved back home. Halfway across the country.

Bucky didn’t hear from her after that, no one did. It broke his heart but he understood, she had other things that needed her attention.

Until about three years later when they ran into each other again, they were both 24. Totally random circumstances but there they were in the same place at the same time.

* * *

“Y/n,” he breathed when he saw her again.

He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her until that moment. He thought he’d gotten over her but seeing her again brought everything back like a tidal wave.

“Hi Bucky,” she smiled.

Her smile reached her eyes but something different about it. There was something different about her. It was like in the short three years they’d been apart, she grew up. She had a different air about her.

Before she had been a buoyant, loud, self-assured person. She was always the one to speak up or get people to do something that they might normally not do.

Now she seemed to be older. Like those three years had aged her and made her quieter more likely to have the answer to a question you didn’t know you had.

But her smile, her smile hadn’t changed, not really. At least, not in the way it counted. Her smile still made Bucky’s heart stop then suddenly race.

“How’ve you been?” She asked.

And just like that, they were back. They went out to get drinks after the event and talked for hours. Caught up on each other’s lives.

At one point Y/n started talking about a good day that she’d had with her mother. Where they went out and just were and that was the turning point for her mom. And watching her talk about it set off something in him. It was like something finally clicked.

He was hopelessly in love with Y/n.

All he wanted was to take away her pain, fix everything that had ever gone wrong in her life because she deserved everything good that this life had to offer and more.

He also craved that closeness they’d once had. Not just the physical but the emotional part as well.

At the end of the night, Bucky walked her to her car and she stopped right before they got there.

“You’re going to hate me,” she whispered. Bucky barely heard her.

“I doubt it,” he said as he stepped towards her.

“Ok, first I need you to know that this has nothing to do with you,” she started and before she could continue Bucky spoke.

“Why does this sound like a breakup?” He halfheartedly joked.

Y/n stared at him sadly.

“I can’t be around you, specifically you,” she told him and his heart broke. “I - I’m afraid that if I fall back into old habits with you I won’t be who I’m supposed to be. I won’t know who I am in this world without half of my family around.”

“Ok, I understand.” Bucky nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed.

“But you also need to know that when I’m with you, I’m happy. The happiest I’ve ever been.”

And there it was, hope, just a flicker of it but it was enough to give Bucky an idea.

“Ok well, if when we are 30 and we’re both single, and if you’re ready, let’s get married.”

She laughed through her nose but a bright smile lit up her face. She stuck out her hand.

“Deal.”

Bucky took her hand and shook it one. “Deal.”

* * *

Bucky was fully prepared to wait the six years before reaching out to her.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t live his life, he did. He moved to Paris, got a job there wrote a book. The only thing he didn’t do was fall in love. It’s not like he tried to actively stop himself from falling in love, but he also didn’t actively try to. He maybe went on three actual dinner dates in the span of 3 years.

Then one fateful day while he was working on his next book he got an email.

Bucky,

I don’t know if this is still you’re email, or if you even want to hear from me. But something happened and I needed to tell someone who wouldn’t judge me for it.

Do you remember the one person in one of our lit classes that would always raise his hand to correct the professor on something that he clearly knew nothing about but somehow no one could find it in themselves to stand up to that prick?

Well, I saw him again. And he had the audacity to come up to me. First of all, how dare he. Second of all, what did I ever do to give him the impression that I could even tolerate him?

Either way, he started talking to me and at one point he started talking about how Shakespear is the greatest thing to have ever walk the earth and that Romeo and Juliet is his greatest piece of writing, and you know how I feel about that.

But once the words ‘greatest love story’ came out of his mouth I looked him dead in the eye and said: “I’m going to stop you right there”.

Then I walked away.

Suffice to say that he won’t try to approach me ever again.

Anyway, I thought you might enjoy that story.

But how have you been? I hear you’re in Spain (?). How has that been going?

Love, Y/n

Bucky laughed for a good ten minutes after reading her email. Alex was the man in question and not a single person liked him yet he had a big enough ego to believe that everyone did.

Once he composed himself, he typed and sent his reply.

Y/n,

Congratulations, this is still my email. However, I’ve recently become a Nigerian prince and need your help and if you could send me money that’d be great.

And of course I remember Alex, I also recall one time I had to talk you out of physically fighting him when you got drunk and he was sitting on the other side of the street smoking.

You don’t have to remind me that you think that Romeo and Juliet is the stupidest story you’ve ever read. But I will remind you that they are teenagers and that’s the point of the story.

Also, I’d expect nothing less from you.

No, not Spain but Paris. And I’ve been great. I’ve been doing my best to stay away from all the pastries but that hasn’t been going over too well, as you can imagine.

What about you? Other than putting assholes in their place, what have you been up to?

Truly yours, Bucky.

They emailed back and forth for months. Bucky had suggested some less archaic way of communication but Y/n told him that letters were the truly archaic way of doing it and then said that she liked the long-form of email instead of texts.

In one of the emails, accidentally, Bucky informed her that he still loved her and hadn’t fallen for anyone else. They still had 2 years before their pact would take effect.

Y/n told him that she was still very much serious about their pact and found herself in a similar situation. She also informed him that when he found himself stateside again, they should meet up because she felt she was ready.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to drop everything and go to her right then and there but he had to finish up his contract.

A year later he found himself finding a job in New York, which Y/n had mentioned was where she was living now.

They finally met up in New York and fell into each other easily. It was like whatever spark they had never left, like the fire they had for the other never died out just got turned down and now that they were no longer afraid to put labels on it or commit to the other it burned brighter and hotter than before.

They moved in together. A cute little one apartment that had a view to die for. They lived the domestic life that felt like it was straight out of a movie. Picture perfect.

Late nights on the couch wine drunk watching a TV show and getting way too into it, the occasional early morning making pancakes as the sun rose. Slow dancing to whatever song was playing over the Bluetooth speakers in the living room.

There was never any pressure to exchange ‘I love you’s honestly to Bucky it felt like they already had. But when she said it for the first time when they were actually going for it, his heart felt like it could explode out of his chest.

They were dancing to some cover of a song Y/n loved. Her head was resting on his chest and randomly and without warning she said it.

“I love you,” she said softly. “I’m in love with you, have been for a while I just didn’t know how to feel it without feeling guilty.”

“Why would you have felt guilty?” He asked as they continued to rock back and forth to the beat of the song.

“Because my brother won’t ever know how this feels, he won’t get the chance to fall in love with some.”

Bucky didn’t know how to respond to that so he just rubbed her back silently for a minute.

“I’m in love with you too,” he finally said.

“Good,” she joked, “Because this would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”

* * *

There was one night when they came home from hanging out with their friends when Bucky and Y/n were in the kitchen eating ice cream. Y/n was sitting on the counter and Bucky was leaning on it next to her leg.

Suddenly he put down his ice cream and walked out of the room.

“Is everything ok?” Y/n called after him.

“Yeah, just stay there for a moment,” he told her.

She did. She sat on the counter completely enthralled with her ice cream. Bucky stood at the edge of the tile and watched her for a moment. He wanted to savor this. She looked at him.

“What?” She asked.

He closed the distance between them and pulled out the little black box he’d had hidden in the apartment for months now.

“I know that we’ve only technically been dating for almost a year but I’ve known you were the woman for me since that event where we randomly ran into each other,” he opened the box revealing a ring, “Marry me?”

“That’s not fair,” she said, “I’m not 30 yet you have one more month.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asked wide-eyed.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded smugly.

“Fine.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “But it’s happening on your birthday in the most ridiculous way possible.”

“Ok,” she agreed and kissed him again.

* * *

A week before her birthday Bucky got a call.

The dreaded call that no one imagines getting, but he got it.

He doesn’t remember much about the ride to the hospital or what the doctor said happened.

What he does remember is that Y/n was hit by a drunk driver and ended up in the ICU.

For four of the longest days of Bucky’s life he kept hearing: “She could wake up. She’s getting stronger every day.”

Turns out they were all wrong because at 6:00 pm on the fourth day her heart gave out and they couldn’t do anything to restart it. He couldn’t find the strength to move they had to call some of his friends to help him out of the hospital.

Steve and Sam helped him back home.

He stood in their share apartment clutching the hospital provided plastic bag full of her personal items.

Steve and Sam spent the night, they crashed on the couch while Bucky struggled to find sleep in the bedroom.

She was everywhere no matter where he looked she was there. He didn’t know how to move on and at that point, he didn’t even know if he wanted to.

* * *

He couldn’t remember much of the funeral. He knows Y/n’s mom was there and that they spoke. Her mom gave him something an envelope that was supposed to hold something that she’d written years ago. But it sat unopen in the drawer of his nightstand and would for years.

He hasn’t spoken to her mother since he supposes at some point he should, but not yet.

* * *

“So that’s it,” he said tears streaming down his face, “That’s why I’m here.”

His therapist handed him a box of tissues and he took it.

“She learned to keep living and feel again. I want to do that for her, maybe someday I’ll want it for myself but for right now the only reason I’m here is for her. Because she’d want it for me.

“So, that’s my story, it’s the worst story ever, and I truly, truly hate it.”

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes AU #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes Fic

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inactiveblog261838 · 6 years

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realizing they love you. (kaminari, bakugo, todoroki, midoriya, mina, shinso, monoma, shigaraki)

here’s some shitty scenarios i wrote out of utter boredom. i need something to post while i work on other stuff that’s taking longer, so this exists. enjoy this word vomit.

requests are open!!!

Denki Kaminari

Kaminari realized he was in love with you on his bedroom floor.

You were hanging out with Kaminari in his room, listening to music and playing with your shared collections of Pokémon cards. It wasn’t anything special, but it was the first time the two of you had been alone in his room. When hanging out, you were almost always accompanied by Mina and Sero. However, everyone was busy, and Denki was kind of glad that he got the chance to be alone with you. He’d had feelings for you forever, and he didn’t think he could fall any harder. That is, until his favorite song started to play and your face lit up.

“I love this song!” You’d exclaimed, looking up at him with a huge smile on your face.

He dropped his card and returned your excitement with a wobbly smile. “Really? It’s my favorite.”

You slung an arm around his shoulder, disregarding the scattered Pokémon cards, and sang loudly, intentionally being goofy. However, Kaminari couldn’t help but watch you in a daze, so excited that the object of his affection had the same favorite song, and the sound of your voice made his heart race. He’d always liked you, but in that moment, watching you bop and sing along to the music, his heart could’ve exploded with all the love he felt for you. It was a sudden realization, the kind that you notice in a fleeting moment and can’t shake afterwards.

He was a huge flirt, and though he tried to seem like a cool and collected player, the complete adoration he felt for you in that moment made any thoughts of other girls dissipate from his mind completely.

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo realized he was in love with you in your living room.

Kirishima refused to let you go along to retrieve Bakugo despite your cries and protests, and decided the least he could do was bring him to you. The moment you walked out of your room to see the two boys standing in your den, looking worn down, but unharmed, you were hit with such an intense wave of emotion you almost collapsed. Instead of collapsing, you ran straight for Bakugo, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you could, ensuring that he was really there.

“Katsuki! I’m so glad you’re safe. I was so scared, and Kirishima wouldn’t let me come, or let me know anything until right before you guys got here. I’m sorry I didn’t help!”

Bakugo was taken aback by the sudden intense emotions coming from you. Though he felt an unspoken something between the two of you, he’d never experienced genuine affection from you before now. It was always teasing flirting, and more shocking than that... you hadn’t ever seemed worried or afraid of anything.

When the wetness of your tears soaked through Bakugo’s shirt to his skin, he realized that the slight shaking of your body was you crying. He gently lifted your face up so your eyes met, and the sight of you crying felt like a stab in the heart.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. Everything’s okay,” he assured you, his voice calm and level, “And stop crying. I don’t like seeing you like that. You look weird.”

You furrowed your brows and stuck out your lip. “You’re so mean! I was scared I’d never see you again, of course I’m gonna cry.”

He laughed. “You know no measly villains are gonna keep me from you, idiot. And I’m here now anyways, there’s no reason to cry.”

Looking down, you entwined your fingers with his and squeezed, once more making sure he was really there. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

With a content sigh, Bakugo leaned down, placing his face in your hair and kissing your head. “I won’t.”

In that moment, he could feel the connection between the two of you was more than it originally seemed, and he was consumed with what he could only describe as an undeniable love.

Shoto Todoroki

Todoroki realized he was in love with you in the school hallway.

You weren’t expecting to see Todoroki at the pool, but he surprisingly showed up with the rest of the Class 1-A boys. It took a lot of willpower for you to avoid gawking at the sight of him in his swimming trunks, and the other girls laughed at your obvious staring. You and Todoroki had a “thing”, according to everyone, but you weren’t sure if he felt the same given his odd behavior and mannerisms. You’d watched the races in giddy excitement, cheering him on the whole time. He noticed, though you didn’t realize.

When 5pm rolled around and everyone left the pool, he asked you to meet with him and walk home with him. Of course, you agreed. He waited in the hallway for you to get changed, engaging in an awkward conversation with Midoriya about his feelings for you. Ever since you befriended him at the beginning of the semester he’d been struggling with his feelings towards you, unsure of what to do.

Midoriya told him that he felt love for you, and he was unsure at first. Love was a foreign concept to him, but when you appeared in the hall, your wet hair framing the big smile on your face as you walked up to him and greeted him, the fluttering in his heart confirmed it.

“You were totally gonna win that race! I was cheering you on,” you said, pumping a fist in the air.

“Thank you,” he replied with a curt nod and shy smile, hoping that the heat could be a cover for the blush dusting his face.

Izuku Midoriya

Midoriya realized he was in love with you from the stands at the Sports Festival.

After your devastating loss in the Sports Festival, you’d wandered around the halls trying to regain your composure before returning to watch the rest of the events with your classmates. You’d had high hopes for yourself, but ended up overestimating yourself and making a small mistake that cost you the match. You were upset, but it was a loss you were determined to learn and bounce back from.

Midoriya called out to you, causing you to spin around and wave to him. “Hey, what’s up?”

He ran to you, catching his breath. His face was pink, from running you assumed. “You did amazing, Y/N.”

You laughed and scratched the back of your head awkwardly. Midoriya was doing his best to keep his cool and not completely embarrass himself in front of you, or say anything to upset you. Thankfully, you didn’t seem visibly upset about losing, and he wad glad— you put up an awesome fight. It took his breath away, and his admiration for you grew more with each second of the match.

“I mean it! You might’ve lost, but it was a close one. I took a lot of notes about your fighting techniques, too!”

The way your eyes sparkled with excitement at his words caused Midoriya’s heart to nearly thud out of his chest. “Really? Izuku, no way! I feel so special!”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he replied, a dizzy smile painted on his reddening face. His heart was beating out of control, and seeing the way you could smile despite taking a loss made him fall even harder for you. Seeing your determination in battle made him realize that his little crush was actually much more, and you were only increasing the butterflies in his stomach and heart with that smile.

Mina Ashido

Mina realized she was in love with you in a dressing room.

Almost immediately, you and Mina had become best friends. There was an instant connection between the two of you, and as time passed, Kaminari and Mineta began to prod at the idea of the two of you dating. You both humored them, casually flirting with one another and pretending to date. It was all in good fun, until Mina started to realize she actually had feelings for you. She kept it quiet, not wanting to make the friendship awkward, but it was gradually becoming hard to ignore.

One day after school, you, Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero, and Bakugo went to the mall to hang out and window shop. Nothing was unusual, until a clothing store caught your attention.

“Mina! Will you come with me to try on some of these clothes? They’re so cute!”

Thankful for her pink skin hiding the blush that coated her cheeks when you grabbed her hand and stared at her with your big, sparkling eyes, she agreed and followed you into the store, keeping your hands locked together. You suggested matching outfits, and Mina didn’t object. The two of you went to the fitting room together and changed into the outfits, while Mina did her best not to be awkward or embarrassing. Once you were both changed, you observed yourself and Mina in the mirror, grinning.

“This is so cute! Now we’re a real couple, huh?”

For a moment, Mina thought she misheard you, but upon realizing what you said, and taking in the look on your face, she almost fainted. You were so cute, and she was so incredibly in love, it was unfair.

Hitoshi Shinso

Shinso realized he was in love with you in an alleyway.

The two of you were walking around a shopping district, looking at different things and debating on which street cart to get food from. You were a picky eater, which he usually would have found annoying, but since it was you, he tolerated it. The two of you decided on yakitori, and continued walking around with your pinkies locked so you didnt get separated in the crowd.

When you suddenly stopped walking, Shinso was about to snap at you for stopping in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but by the time he turned around you’d disappeared down the alley beside where you’d been walking. He rolled his eyes and squeezed through the passerby into the empty alley, where he found you crouching, your hand extended.

“What are you doing?”

“Hitoshi! Hush! There’s a kitten!”

His eyes widened and he slowly walked over to you and peered over your shoulder, where a small, dirty, white kitten was sitting, rubbing against your hand. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight, taking it in and forgetting about everything else for a moment.

“I’m gonna keep it,” you stated, “It’ll be our kid, okay?”

“Our... kid?” Shinso raised his brow at your wording. He wasn’t opposed to it, of course, but didn’t expect it.

“Well, I know how much you love cats. It would be rude to keep it to myself,” you teased, slowly picking up the kitten. “Look, Hito! It likes you already!”

The kitten was pawing at his coat, it’s big eyes focused on Shinso’s face. He looked from the kitten, to your beaming face, and felt a warmth wash over his body. He loved the kitten instantly, but as he watched how carefully and lovingly you petted it and held it, he came to realize he loved you too.

Neito Monoma

Monoma realized he loved you in the middle of chaos.

Despite his obsessive hatred for Class 1-A, Monoma had grown quite fond of you for some reason that he couldn’t explain. The training camp gave him the opportunity to spend more time with you, when he wasn’t taking his extra lessons. The two of you trained together and worked together to make your food, and despite your classmates’ strange looks and confused comments, you continued to spend time with Monoma as much as you could. He was more than annoyed on the night that the classes went through the forest path. The

chance to scare you was one he didn’t wanna miss, but unfortunately, Vlad and Aizawa dragged him and the Class A students off to study.

When Mandalay’s message came through, everything seemed like a joke. But Aizawa’s reaction caused a bit of fear to build up in everyone’s chest as they sat and waited to hear from their classmates. Being in Class A, you’d dealt with villains before, but given the terrain and the fact that the pro-heroes seemed to be struggling, Monoma couldn’t help but be overcome with worry. He remained in his seat, silently picking his nails and squirming around in failed attempts to ease his mind. The other students talked quietly amongst themselves, and the inaudible whispers only made him more on edge. If something happened to you out their, Monoma would have become a complete, inconsolable wreck. He was close with his classmates, and of course he worried for their safety as well, but his mind always went back to you.

Eventually, everything was brought under control and you returned to the building with a few others, terrified and sporting minor injuries from fights. Medical teams arrived to help everyone, and Monoma was glued to your side the entire time, scared that your injuries were worse than they seemed. You assured him that you were fine, and squeezed his hand.

“Why are you so worried about someone from Class 1-A, anyway?” You joked. Monoma didn’t laugh.

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N,” he responded coldly, staring down at you with an indiscernible expression on his face.

He wouldn’t let himself say it, but while sitting in that classroom oblivious to the chaos outside, he came to realize he loved you, and was terrified of something happening to you without him there to help you.

Tomura Shigaraki

Shigaraki realized he loved you while sulking in his room.

All too often, Shigaraki would get worked up over something not going as planned, and shut himself away in his room to brood and play video games. Usually, you’d leave him be and stay in the bar with Kurogiri, but something lead you to decide to follow after him. You half-expected him to yell at you to leave, but when you knocked on his door, he told you to come in.

He was sitting on his bed, viciously picking at his scarred neck, muttering to himself. His eyes were focused on you, not once looking away as you stood at the door, debating on whether to stay or head back. “What are you doing? Don’t just stand there.”

His irritation was evident, and you quickly moved away from where you’d been standing, awkwardly searching for another place to stand. You were usually casual with Shigaraki, but when he was in a bad mood, you could never be too careful. The more you looked around, the more you started to worry that you were annoying him more, so you settled for sitting beside him on the bed. He seemed surprised, but didn’t tell you to get up, so you stayed.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Shigaraki. Things won’t always be successful, you’ve gotta keep trying and eventually you’ll get to your— our goal,” you told him, pulling his hand away from his neck, “You can’t predict everything that will happen. You’ve just gotta see how things play out and develop new strategies.”

He was silent as he looked at your hand wrapped around his wrist. You were preparing to be snapped at, but it didn’t come.

“And, no matter how many times things go wrong, I’ll keep helping as much as I can. This isn’t something you’ve gotta do on your own. We’re a team, all of us,” you continued, your voice soft and calming.

“You’re the only one in this damn League with any sense, besides Kurogiri,” he muttered, lowering his hand to his lap. “What are you even doing here?”

“I know how much you blame the other members’ failures on yourself, and I thought I’d try to talk to you. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I like your company, you’re not annoying like everyone else.”

It was a strange compliment, but coming from Shigaraki, it meant a lot to not be considered annoying, so you accepted it happily. “Yeah, I’m glad. I’m pretty fond of you, Shigaraki.”

With that, you got up and headed back to the bar, leaving Shigaraki in the silence of his room.

“Fond of me, huh?” He whispered to himself, looking at the door you exited from. Shigaraki had no idea what love was, but he enjoyed your presence, and your words made his face hot. It may have been nothing special to you, but from that moment on, Shigaraki was wrapped around your finger.

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mrs-dragneel-stark-solo · 4 years

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Unforseen Chasm (Part 46)

Part 46 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 6022 Warnings: Language, all warnings based on the Ultron movie. song for this part: Life of the party-All time low Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93 what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.