I Thought Would You Be So Kind Was Sad. This Broke My Heart Especially Since Haechan Is My Bias. Even

I thought would you be so kind was sad. This broke my heart especially since Haechan is my bias. Even when I was reading Would You Be So Kind, I could feel that Haechan loved sweetheart. This was nice add on to an already wonderful story even if Haechan suffered from second lead syndrome.

i wanna hold your hand | l.dh

PART II OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION a would you be so kind? side-story written for the when you love someone collaboration hosted by @jaxminskale

✿SYNOPSIS. All the times Lee Donghyuck held your hand and the one time he didn’t.

✿PAIRING. lee donghyuck x (f) florist!reader x mark lee ✿GENRE. hanahaki!au, high school!au, best friend!au, flower shop!au, fluff, angst ✿WORD COUNT. 19.2k+

✿WARNINGS. hanahaki disease, vomiting, hospital visits, blood, mentions of death (no character deaths!), language, religious/Christian references, mentions of sexual thoughts (no smut!) PLEASE READ WOULD YOU BE SO KIND? BEFORE CONTINUING ON! Many scenes are scenes from in the fic written in Haechan’s POV.

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johnny // nct 127 'favorite’ mv

HAECHAN ♡ Favorite (211028)

This entire series needs to be read 10 times cause that’s how good it is. I could feel the reader’s frustration and their want for everything to stop from the beginning to the end. Please read this series, it’s really amazing

[4:39 PM] + hero/villain au + "fight back." + part 8

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

a/n: it's the final part! wooyoung is mean still lol, 4k, warnings for violence

-

when you were fifteen years old, you stepped off the bus a stop early to stretch your legs. you'd missed your bed. your parents. your slippers.

and when you'd arrived in front of the sign welcoming you to your hometown, all you could see was upturned dirt stretching on as far as your eye could see. white vans dotted the dirt and little white specks - later you'd realize they were people in white hazmat suits - and police tape blocked your path.

when you were fifteen years old, you learned that your hometown had been wiped off the face of the earth and all you had left to your name was the clothes on your back and the measly savings account your parents had only just begun to fill.

when you were seventeen years old, you learned you had super strength. honestly, you were aware you were stronger than normal for years before then, but when someone tried to yank your wallet from your hands after a tiring day working non-stop at two jobs, something snapped within you. you broke a stranger's hand that day. the police eyed you strangely, the robber cowered in fear, and you shrugged as you said, "i like to workout."

when you were nineteen years old, you met kim hongjoong, riddled with guilt and eyes desperate as he stepped in front of you and stuck his hand out in greeting. you could tell something was off with him from the beginning, but you eventually chalked it up to his perpetual nervous energy. he confessed to making your hometown disappear exactly three months after introducing himself and you wondered briefly if you had a second power involving intuition. a part of you wanted to be angry, but you didn't have it in you. even back then, you couldn't hurt the people you cared about.

in your twenties, you joined the hero-villain alliance. hongjoong hovered too much. seonghwa chastised him, but eventually he started to hover too much as well. yunho mentioned it was something about the two of them spending too much time with each other and adopting the other's habits. mingi cried when he bought your new team pouches based on fruits that he supposedly extensively researched to match each of your personalities. jongho made you his permanent sparring partner because you were super strong and he was completely indestructible. yeosang, san, and wooyoung were glued at the hip. the very first day wooyoung tossed his arm over your shoulder, weighing you down as he grinned at you, eyes twinkling, and you worried all evening over san's resulting wary scowl and yeosang's amused, pointed smirks. it took months for san to warm up to you after that. you were both so similar in so many ways that it was hard for him not to eventually give in. like san, you put your all into your relationships, platonic or not, but unlike san, you tended to lose your resolve too easily. san could hate just as much as he loved when lines were crossed. san set boundaries and stuck to them, for better or for worse. you did not. you could not.

"you can't fix him," hongjoong's voice cuts through the hazy memories, and it's clear, loud, ringing in your ears.

he'd said the same thing to you once, a long long time ago, regarding an ex you've long forgotten about. that time, you'd responded with a huffy i can try and hongjoong had scoffed and said, you can try all you want, but only you trying isn't enough. it'll never be enough.

"it really isn't enough," his voice is louder now. clearer. it takes you a moment to realize that this isn't a memory. this isn't you stuck in your heads. this is real. hongjoong is speaking to you.

you'd remembered that conversation clearly. you'd asked him if that meant you weren't enough and hongjoong looked you in the eyes, blunt as always, and asked, do you really believe that? why would you ever need to be enough for the both of you? why do you think that's your responsibility?

"that was pretty good advice, if i must say so myself."

"are you..." you frown, "really here, hongjoong?"

you can't even really figure out what here is. everything is muddy, hazy even, and you feel disconnected from your body, like you're floating through space. like you're in a liminal space that should not exist.

"no," hongjoong's voice is filled with quiet amusement, "i'm not really here. i guess we could call me your conscious. why your unconscious mind decided to make me your conscious though is beyond me. but here i am."

"what the hell."

"that's an entirely valid point. i think looking would make more sense, right?" hongjoong (your conscious self?) sighs, "come look then."

here turns into city square. at least what is left of it, with rubble blocking the sidewalks and skeletal bodies strewn across the streets. civilians lay crushed in the rubble. shoes and stuffed animals, clothing and purses, lay scattered all over. the sun is beginning to set, oranges and pinks filling the sky, a beautiful display of how the earth will keep going no matter what happens to its inhabitants. the city is quiet for a moment, before it isn't. before you focus on the scene in front of you and your heart stops in it's throat.

you're watching a standoff. hongjoong, mingi, and yunho on one side and seonghwa and wooyoung on the other, wooyoung's back facing you while seonghwa stands at your side, a purpling bruise adorning his chin and his brows furrowed. san, jongho, and yeosang are nowhere to be seen.

you try to move, to say something, but you can't. you can't move, only watching.

oh.

the liminal space is wherever the serum takes you while you're under its control. oh.

"took you long enough," this time it's san's voice.

you wonder if the serum finally took your sanity.

"unfortunately, no," san's voice is quiet. "in a way, i think you're just trying to protect yourself. it would be awful if wooyoung made you do something to hongjoong and you could hear his voice in your head at the same time."

your heart rate picks up at that, but before you can say anything, your body is moving. you can't stop it, can't control anything. you are merely a passenger in your own body, and being present for it is sickening.

hongjoong stands, chest heaving, sweat dripping, fingers curled into fists as his gaze lands on you. they all look on the verge of passing out. yunho still has his gloves on. your heart twists at the sight.

wooyoung presses a warm palm into your back as he says, "you all have three options. one, flee the city in the next ten minutes," wooyoung lifts his hand from your back, displaying his fingers, "two, surrender," wooyoung lifts a third finger, "or, three, y/n breaks your bones. again. which one will it be? i'll even have them take turns."

"you're giving us two options to leave?" mingi calls, raising a brow. he doesn't look at you, "want us gone that badly, huh?"

hongjoong, on the other hand, does not stop looking at you.

wooyoung raises a brow, "i think i'm being super generous, honestly."

"you're making them do all the dirty work for you," yunho's voice is rough with too many emotions you cannot pinpoint, "it's cowardly more than anything."

wooyoung doesn't respond, his jaw clenching.

you can't move a limb, no matter how much you will yourself to.

"you told me once that you would do anything to protect the people you love," hongjoong's voice is hair-raising in it's quietness. somehow despite how soft his voice is, everyone stills to look at him. his gaze flickers between wooyoung, you, and a point over your shoulder before it settles on wooyoung. "when i asked you if i could trust you with them, you swore to me i could. you sat in the bar we'd always go to and cried to me," hongjoong jabs a hand to his left, no doubt where the bar used to be, "after they broke their leg on the mission you were leading, you cried," hongjoong grits his teeth, "and i fucking believed you."

it was your fifth non-planned mission, and though you were super strong, you were not indestructible like jongho. an unauthorized rogue with the ability to turn their limbs into solid steel hammers crushed your leg in front of san and wooyoung. it took the rogue a few hits, and it was painful each time. wooyoung lost it after that, surging forward with flames bursting from him as he slammed the rogue through a wall. you'd never seen him act in such a way, burning with the fury of a thousand suns, not until after the betrayal at least. the rogue barely made it into custody alive, skin blackened, hairs and clothes singed. you couldn't get a proper look, not with wooyoung hovering and san scooting until your view of the rogue was blocked. you'd never know wooyoung had been affected by the situation to that degree. you thought he was just protecting you the way he would with anyone else on your team. you'd seen him defend mingi the same way once before.

you think wooyoung will say something of substance. his mouth opens, but nothing comes out. for a moment, there is the same vulnerability there he showed you before he said the words. then his face smooths out and he merely shrugged, "that sounds like a you problem."

hongjoong takes a deep breath, his voice soft, too kind, his voice cracking with a sadness he barely ever shows, "i still want to believe you, wooyoung."

it's a chance, you realize. another chance. hongjoong's gaze flickers over your shoulder, no doubt to seonghwa.

"if you want to be delusional, then go ahead." wooyoung merely laughs, "but, since it sounds like you've settled on the third option. y/n, you're up."

then you're moving. you're moving and you can't stop yourself as you descend on hongjoong, swinging your fist. he teleports through dimensions easily, avoiding your fist, but he's exhausting and you'll land a hit soon. you know it. he knows it.

when you do, the sickening crunch echoes all around you. wooyoung laughs. mingi could use his powers, but he won't risk blinding any of you. yunho won't remove his gloves. hongjoong gasps, clutching his bloody nose.

but he doesn't let down. you want to cry as your arms swing without thought, but hongjoong keeps his gaze on yours. he spats blood, never once removing his gaze. he says, "i know you're in there. i know you can fight it."

and it's as if the serum knows what you're trying to do because everything goes hazy as you lose consciousness once more, as you disappear, but this time, you refuse.

memories come flooding through your resolve, trying to bury you away. wooyoung joining you to pick up more snacks from the convenience store at two in the morning and stacking a mountain of snacks in your arms, so high you couldn't see over it. san looming over you, arms crossed, and asking you of your intentions with wooyoung while wooyoung was right there. you asking him his intentions with yeosang and wooyoung cackling while san blushed. moments when you gave too much. wooyoung with his head in your lap. telling you about his dates. pressing a kiss to your cheek while holding his new partner's hand. tossing you his sweatshirt after a long night of choreographing your next scheduled fight.

you find yourself whispering into the void, "how do i get out of this? how do i stop this from happening?"

san's voice is clear, quiet. sad almost.

"you don't."

~.~.~.~.~

your head feels heavy and your vision is hazy and you're sitting around a table in your favorite bar, music blasting all around you, empty soju bottles piled on top of each other, and meat scattered on the grill in the center of the table. a hand reaches out to pick at the meat. you look around. jongho leans heavily against the palm of his hand, his eyes drooping, and mingi's already asleep, his head nestled in the crook of jongho's neck at an uncomfortable angle. sober jongho would mind the touching, but drunk jongho doesn't seem to mind at all. hongjoong talks animatedly to seonghwa, too fast for you to understand the topic, but seonghwa seems to hang off every word, nodding as he grins fondly. san shouts something and shoves a hand in yeosang's face. yeosang guffaws. the sound of his laughter is muffled. wooyoung smiles at them both, then he meets your eyes and smiles wider. you remember this moment, from long ago.

yunho nudges your side with an elbow. you yelp, rubbing your ribs.

you remember he had wiggled his brows at you and whispered that you ask wooyoung -

"you love breaking bones, huh?"

you blink.

yunho scoffs, "you're going to fall for this every time?"

you remember bits and pieces of your time in the underground apartment. wooyoung. betrayal. yunho's arm. oh.

you look down at his arm, anxiety and guilt coursing through you. "did i...am i...?"

"it's not a question of when, but how many times, y/n. it's been a while."

before you can respond, the bar disappears.

the haziness subsides and for a moment, you feel clear minded.

you blink, getting used to the dim lighting surrounding you. you're lying on your side in an unfamiliar bed. you do not recognize your surroundings, but your gaze lands on the figure leaning back against the wall at your side.

wooyoung's eyes settle on you. he looks strange, different. his long hair is a bit shorter, and the softness to his features is not so prominent. the lines around his mouth are harder. he looks...older.

he meets your gaze for a long moment, but he does not say anything. he only leans his head back against the wall, bearing his throat, and closes his eyes. you watch as his shoulders slump. he looks exhausted.

you try to move, but you can't. your limbs are limp, from exhaustion or the serum, you don't know.

you don't have time to say anything. not when your eyes close on their own accord.

~.~.~.~.~

you're aware that when you disappear, you fall into your memories. you also know that there's something off with the serum, because all your memories change ever so slightly and someone in them always turns to speak to you. it startles you each time, when seonghwa, hongjoong, yeosang, san, mingi, yunho, or jongho break character to tell you something cryptic or scathing and you remember that none of this is real. it's a strange drifting feeling, where you know you're stuck in your head, but you also know nothing else anymore.

still, it has you wondering if your body is getting used to the serum's effects. especially when your memories break character more often than not. especially when you come to in unfamiliar places more frequently, places that you're positive are not a part of your past memories.

places like lonely, vast bedrooms and wooyoung sitting in a chair by your side or sleeping on the floor or just quietly regarding you.

places like grassy fields and jongho meeting your gaze, eyes widening when you'd maintained eye contact, before he looked down at his shoes, fingers twisting in front of him.

one time, you'd come to in a kitchen, dropping the fork when you'd realized and seonghwa sat across from you, picking at his own food. his hair was different, a soft brown, shaved at the sides. the lines were more prominent around his eyes.

and he'd looked at you as if he was seeing a ghost. then the apology came, and it was coupled with glassy eyes and curled fists. and you'd found your voice for just a moment, enough to whisper, voice hoarse, "an apology isn't enough."

they were brief moments, but they were becoming more frequent. you could tell that much at least.

one time, after too many nights of waking up in what you figured was the real world, you'd come to in a room, your back to the wall, a full soju bottle in front of you. wooyoung sat across from you. he had three soju bottles in front of him, two of which were empty.

when he met your gaze, you almost didn't recognize him. he looked a lot different from the memories of him you dwelled in.

he reaches up and presses a hand to your cheek. the touch is featherlight, barely there, and he pulls back quickly.

"happy birthday, y/n." his voice is deeper, softer, more tired.

he downs a shot, before he fully meets his gaze.

his eyes widen a fraction of an inch, and you wonder if he can see the lucidity there. you had a hunch that you were disappearing for months at a time, maybe even years, but hearing him mention your birthday brings a tightness to your chest.

"is it really happy?" you ask, your voice raspy from disuse.

his eyes soften. he looks at the shot glass in his hands before he pours a drink for you and then himself. he says, "for a lot of people in this world, it finally is."

"i'm not asking about the world, idiot."

wooyoung lets out a small, breathless laugh around his shot of soju, his face flushed from the alcohol and his eyes glassy as he looks at you. he says, "i've missed you, y/n."

your heart curls up in your chest. you blame it on the memories of him you've been to dwell in. you shake your head. it's hard to do. "i don't miss you."

he just hums, pouring another shot. he looks up at you once more, his eyes soft, his tone quiet, and he says, "sure you don't."

but there's a crack to his voice you notice immediately, even as he smiles at you. already, his face starts to blur and you know the serum has caught up to you once more.

he must have seen it happen enough times to understand that you would go under soon, because he turns his gaze back to the soju. your fingers curl into fists on the desk as you try to hold on. you've done it multiple times in front of him. he'd only watched as you struggled. this time, he reaches out and presses a warm hand to yours. your heart twists further, just as you go under.

~.~.~.~.~

it's a cycle, over and over, and anger starts to find it's way into your heart. it's always been there, always rearing it's head, but this time you feel it so viscerally, you believe you will die from the tight anger growing in your chest.

one day, you snap.

it's a memory you've mulled over a thousand times already, but this time your consciousness takes the form of wooyoung and he says, "how long are you going to be trapped in here? until you die? pathetic."

and, perhaps, that's the last straw. perhaps, it's seeing wooyoung break character from how you remembered him and mocking you the way he had when he'd first betrayed you. maybe it's him calling you pathetic so easily.

whatever it is, it shatters your world, your chest heaving and your nails digging into your palms, fists shaking. you're strong, you remind yourself, and it is a strength that you've carried with yourself since you stepped off that fucking bus and stared at the crater that was once your home.

it is a strength that no one had the right to take from you. you want it back and if you have to take it back, then you will.

~.~.~.~.~

you come to with your fingers wrapped around yunho's throat. he clutches at your fingers with gloved hands, but your grip is too strong for him. he looks entirely different, his hair longer, tied back into a ponytail, and lines on his face that were never there before. he's older, you realize. much, much older. years have passed and all this time, he could have used one touch to easily stop you, end the pain you no doubt inflicted on him over the years. but he hasn't removed his gloves. he won't. your grip loosens. yunho's eyes widen.

you look past him, where yeosang (your heart jumps in your chest at the realization that he's alive, he's alive, he's alive, though there's a burn scar running up the left side of his face that leaves you reeling) and san are shouting, struggling against their restraints, san with tears in his eyes as he shakes his head and cries for you to stop, calls for yunho to take his gloves off and save himself, and eventually looks past you both, pleading for wooyoung to call you off. the restraints are skeletons, piled on top of them, bones digging into their skin, hooked around them. seonghwa's army of the dead. seonghwa, however, is nowhere to be seen.

you drop your hand from around yunho's throat. yunho blinks up at you as he crumbles to his knees.

you spin on your heels, turning on wooyoung, and you swing at him. you hit him square in the jaw. he reels back at the force of your hit, at the sickening crunch of a broken nose, crumpling to the ground, clutching his face, but you follow after him, grabbing him by the collar as you land another hit. you keep hitting him, over and over and over again.

and he doesn't stop you. he lets you hit him. he lets you do whatever you want.

your hits lack the super human strength you pride yourself for, and perhaps that's because this wooyoung, or because tears are streaming down your face as you stare down at his bloody face, or you just know you can't actually kill him with your punches. you grip his collar, and you try to say something, anything, but wooyoung stares at you through a bloody nose and a bruised face, and slam one last punch into the ground next to his head. his chest rises and falls with each staggered, broken breath. you stare at him, watching him stare blankly at the sky, hands limp at his side.

you grit your teeth, "fight back."

he shakes his head, "my work is done and i'm keeping my promise to you."

"no." you lift him off the ground by the collar. he finally meets your gaze. you shake him, "you don't get to fucking do that. you don't get to pretend you're the good person here. you don't get to do this to me so," - you slam him back down - "fight back."

he looks at you with the same softness he held when you'd come to on your birthday. his gaze flickers over your shoulder before he murmurs, "there's nothing to fight for anymore."

something about the way he says it is heart-wrenching. you'd known he cared about his justice, his greater good, more than anything else, but this is - this is him admitting it. after taking away your autonomy for god-knows-how-long. after hurting you. after hurting his best friends.

your fingers curl into fists at his collar, tears spilling down your cheeks. he is admitting he does not wish to try to fix anything, and though that does not surprise you, it still makes you upset. he doesn't want to fight for any of you.

you can't make him, you realize. you can't make him.

he reaches up and presses a warm, trembling finger to your cheek, brushing at the tears. he doesn't pull away. wooyoung says, "i'm sorry, y/n."

he looks over your shoulder, and he repeats, "i'm sorry."

there is a quiet resignation in his glassy eyes. one that brings immense sadness coursing through you, mixing with the anger that's flourished inside you for so long. his eyes fill with guilt, sharp and familiar.

"you're going to live with it," you reach up and grip his jaw, making him look at you. "your apologies will never be enough. it doesn't fix anything, wooyoung, and i hope you live with the guilt of that and what you've done every single day. i hope you die from the guilt."

his eyes grow glassier, as you push off him, leaving him in the rubble. you force yourself not to look back as you turn to yunho, san, and yeosang. san grits his teeth, gripping yeosang's hand, and yeosang stares at wooyoung. yunho holds out his arms and strokes your back with shaky, gloved hands.

"welcome back, y/n."

wooyoung - logbook#73