#a lot of these r like.. a month old? maybe a little less? the paper ones were done during class tho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

journalxxx · 3 years

Text

By Hook or by Crook (7)

“So! How does it look?” Toshinori asked, with a booming voice and his best hands-on-hips pose to kickstart the endeavor with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.

He wasn’t particularly successful.

“Daunting. Impossible. Like I’m gonna die of old age before I’m anywhere close to making a change.”

“A little optimism goes a long way, you know?”

“...I may not die before I’ve lugged away some of this.” Midoriya amended tentatively, scanning the extensive length of garbage-filled beach stretching before them. “And… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger?”

“That’s the spirit!” Toshinori gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to make the boy stammer forwards. He walked around the back of the truck and started unloading the few supplies he’d brought.

“Wear these.” Toshinori threw him a pair of work gloves. He hoped he’d eyeballed the size right. “I trust you’re up to date with all your vaccines.”

“Uhm.”

“Hopefully no one’s dumping organic waste in here, but I’ll bring some traps if you see any rats. They won’t solve the problem, but it’s better than letting them scurry around freely.”

Midoriya’s eyes darted between the gloves and the beach with muted horror. “R-Rats?”

“Scared of rats?” Toshinori couldn’t help but tease. “Did I mention that I had to wade through the sewers for half an hour before finding you and the sludge villain the other day?”

Midoriya instantly looked mortified. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault! Don’t apologize!” Toshinori tossed his hands in the air. This kid desperately needed to learn the basic mechanics of humor. “I’m just saying that heroes can’t be squeamish! Rats come with the job, as well as a variety of nasty stuff and filth.”

“Right.” Midoriya followed him as Toshinori, cooler in one hand and bag of papers in the other, sat down on the last steps of the stairs. He picked an egg sandwich for himself and fished a folder out of the bag, opening it on his thighs and starting to read it.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Midoriya was still staring at him, as if awaiting further instructions.

“Well? Have at it!” Toshinori gestured widely at his new playground.

“Oh, uhm, okay.” The kid donned the gloves and took a single step towards the piles before pausing to look at Toshinori again. “I thought you wanted to ask me… stuff.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you can handle working and talking at the same time without building up some stamina first.” Toshinori answered, eyeing the boy’s scrawny frame critically. “We’ll talk while you’ll be taking a break to catch a breather, which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Oh… All right.” Midoriya turned away, his arms hanging limply from hunched shoulders as he muttered to himself. “...Where do I even start...?”

“From the small things. Working your way up to the heavier objects.” Toshinori explained patiently, then gave him a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’re procrastinating.”

The boy approached the closest stack… and did nothing. Was he ever going to stop waffling and get cracking? “Meanwhile, you’ll just, uh… do your own thing?”

“Surely you don’t need me to guide you through the elaborate process of moving objects from point A to point B, do you?” Maybe the kid detected the hint of annoyance in Toshinori’s voice, because he finally, finally set to grab the closest piece of junk- “...Oh. Okay, that’s not a great start.”

“What?” Midoriya stopped halfway through picking up what was probably the first electric fan ever invented, all the way back in the Iron Age. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Bend your knees, not your back. Otherwise you’re going to- do you really not know this? Isn’t the correct way to lift weights Household Chores 101?”

“Oh, right, I know.” Midoriya rearranged his stance in a way that was less likely to earn him a slipped disk within the next two hours. “Do people really lift things like this though? It’s… a lot harder than the normal way.”

“For your legs, yes. For your back, no. You’ll thank me when you’ll be old enough to realize you aren’t made out of rubber.”

Toshinori munched slowly while he watched the kid carry his first loads to the truck. That act alone seemed to distract Midoriya to an amusing degree, his gaze often flicking to meet Toshinori’s eyes for just a moment before shooting back in front of him with blatant self-consciousness. Toshinori allowed the boy a few minutes of warm-up, just the time for him to finish his sandwich and sip a small cup of apple juice, before deciding to kick things into proper gear.

“Running from the truck to the heaps and vice versa would help you gain some endurance too, rather than leisurely strolling back and forth.” Toshinori commented as Midoriya walked past him.

The kid stopped in his tracks and regarded him with a mix of horror and aversion that vaguely reminded him of death-row inmates when faced with their executioners.

“What?” Toshinori went on, unperturbed. “Are you expecting to get fit without getting tired?”

“No, of course not-”

“Besides, you’ll need to keep a swift pace if you want to clear the whole beach before the admission exam.”

“Wha- All of it?! Before the…” Midoriya sputtered, arms wrapping more tightly around the broken chair he was holding as if that was supporting him instead of the other way around. “Y-You never said…”

“But of course! They don’t do things by half measures in U.A., so why should you?” Toshinori grinned. “Plus Ultra, am I right?”

Midoriya let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I can do something like that...”

“Depends on how much elbow grease you’re willing to put into it.”

Midoriya’s expression shifted minutely as he caught onto Toshinori’s seriousness. “But… but that’s impossible! No matter how hard I work, I can’t- I can’t move stuff like that!” He griped, pointing at the wrecked husk of a van half-buried under a mound of assorted refuse. “Even if I do my best-”

“And pray tell, what’s your best?” Toshinori stood up and walked to the kid, ditching the whimsical demeanor. If playful cajoling wasn’t enough to stir him, maybe it was time to bust out the big guns. “What’s the heaviest you can lift? The fastest you can run? The hardest you can push yourself? When’s the last time you actually tried your very best, and how did it fall short?”

Toshinori was already well and truly spent for the day, but he let the provocation and drive in his words stoke the fire within him, and it flared. The Symbol of Peace broke out of his diminutive shell among dramatic wisps of steam, ready to bestow his wisdom more effectively than his rickety counterpart ever could.

“Do you know what’s the only way to gauge your limits? Reaching them. And the only way to get stronger?“ Toshinori held out his arm between them, and clenched his fist resolutely. He relished the sensation of unyielding muscles tensing and bulging under his skin, tangible proof of the truth of his assertions. “Gritting your teeth and smashing past them! Little by little, but constantly!”

Midoriya had only witnessed that transformation once, poorly and by accident, and it showed. The chair had slipped from his hands without him even noticing, and now lay forgotten at his feet on the bare sand. The kid was gawking at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, the very picture of spellbound rapture. It was far from an unfamiliar reaction from whoever was graced by the Symbol of Peace’s presence, and yet it was still flattering, every time.

“You’ll never improve if you keep dwelling on what you think you can do now. Focus on what you want to do next. Visualize it as a clear goal. Build an image out of it, and then carve it in reality. If you really want that van to move, then it will move. If you really want this beach to be clear, then it will be. But you have to put your back, sweat and heart into making it happen!”

All Might captivated his one-man audience with the usual effortlessness, boisterous showmanship and honest positivity deeply intertwined in a way that boggled his detractors’ minds, but that felt so natural and appropriate to Toshinori. He’d made an art out of it, down to the rumble of his voice and the firmness of his gestures and the levity of his attitude, the art of highlighting and displaying the very best parts of himself so that they could resonate louder, better, brighter.

“So what will it be, young Midoriya? Will you clean up this place within the next ten months or not?”

“Y-Yes. I will.” That had done the trick. It was obvious from the way Midoriya’s back straightened and his expression toughened. It was obvious from the spark kindled in his eyes, a reflection of Toshinori’s own passion, still lacking in heat but full of potential.

“Then you’d better get down to it!” The hero sealed the deal with a radiant smile and a thumbs up. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

“Yes, sir!” Midoriya picked up the chair and dashed towards the truck to unload it there, then he immediately bounced back down the stairs and towards the nearest heap of waste. Toshinori observed the boy’s next rounds with his unwavering smile and few approving nods that kept the kid a bit lighter on his feet.

How much easier it was for All Might to touch people’s hearts. How much easier to inspire, to reassure, to nurture. How much easier everything was for All Might, really. If only that shining beacon of hope wasn’t shackled by the whims of a withering body, how much richer society at large would be for it.

Toshinori let out a deep exhale that took more than just air out of him, and the flame settled down to a low glow. He couldn’t hold back a few wet coughs, and he promptly turned his shrunken back on Midoriya’s concerned glance to sit back on the cool steps.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more than motivation to strength training. Right off the bat, Toshinori could tell that Midoriya wasn’t going to last twenty full minutes of workout. He honestly didn’t know that an ostensibly healthy individual could reach the ripe age of fourteen with such poor body awareness. The boy had coordination and balance on par with a toddler’s: he stumbled on his feet, he tripped on sand, he nearly fell off the stairs twice before realizing that trying to climb them while his view was obstructed by the very items he was carrying might be a less than optimal solution. He seemed to be unaware of the existence of entire muscle groups, and Toshinori had to physically get up and mime movements for him to understand how to exert force more efficiently. Not to mention that he needed incessant needling lest his sprints quickly devolved into lax jogs.

This whole training thing was going to be… an interesting experience, Toshinori could already tell.

Exactly sixteen and a half minutes later, the boy all but collapsed on the stairs beside Toshinori, gasping for air and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

“B-Break?” He pleaded, quite redundantly.

Toshinori took pity on his plight and pushed the cooler in his direction. “Have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you…” The lack of polite refusal made Toshinori suspect that Midoriya had forgotten to bring his own water.

“There’s sports drinks and fruit juice in there too. Save the snacks for after you’re finished, food and heavy workouts don’t always agree with each other.” Toshinori had packed food primarily for himself, expecting their after-school meeting to last long enough for him to slot in one or two meals in the meantime, but he had taken care of adding a few extras for the kid. A good idea, because the possibility of Midoriya face planting on the ground halfway through out of sheer exhaustion seemed more and more likely by the minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

“I promised bribes, didn’t I?”

Midoriya flashed him the tiniest smile, and eagerly drank some water while Toshinori retrieved a small journal and a pen from the other bag. He skimmed through the list of preliminary topics he’d scribbled on the first page under Tsukauchi’s advice, wondering which one he should tackle first.

“All right.” Deciding to follow his instinct in spite of basic common sense, Toshinori decided to begin from the end. “These phone calls of yours. Give me an idea of what they’re like. The last one you had with your father was on April 1st, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. Everything you talked about, as precisely as you can remember it.”

The good thing was that Midoriya’s memory was very accurate, and he was able to recall the whole conversation basically step by step. The less good thing was that said conversation was largely commonplace and unremarkable, consisting of very ordinary small talk and inquiries about school, grades, news, local events-

“Quirks?”

“Mh-hm.” The boy nodded. “We always end up talking about quirks, in one way or another. Quirks and heroes. It’s always been… a common interest.”

“Always, uh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it since… forever, really. I’ve always found quirks fascinating, and he has lots of great insight to offer.”

“I can imagine...” Toshinori mumbled. Asking who had initiated that habit was probably pointless, it sounded like it had started too early in the boy’s life for him to remember - or even to understand if he had been deliberately led to develop that interest. Some intriguing nature-versus-nurture speculations could be made on the matter, but they weren’t likely to aid Tsukauchi’s case. “And in what way do you talk about them?”

“We… analyze them, discuss them. What is known for sure about a certain quirk, what can be deduced from footage and descriptions of its use, what its unmentioned limitations might be, how it could be further developed… You saw my notebook, right? Basically the kind of stuff that’s in there.”

“Wait.” Toshinori blinked. Could he have already stumbled into a treasure trove of All For One-certified information? “You mean that all that’s written in that notebook was dictated by your father?”

The kid almost choked on his next gulp of water, and shot Toshinori an almost offended look. “No! No, no, it’s all stuff I found out on my own! Well, almost all of it, there are some additions of his here and there, but… Uh, I’d say at least 90% of it is mine, and 10% of it is his… Actually, more like 95% and 5%-”

Well, that sounded less promising, but it was still a lead. “So he’s been basically teaching you how to conduct your own quirk analyses?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say teaching. I wish our school teachers were that engaging...” Midoriya let out a small sigh. “But I guess we do go about it a little like with school essays. Research, deadline, discussion and all that…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, every month we decide which heroes or quirks we’re going to talk about the next time - back in March we chose Hawks, Kido and Snatch for last month’s call, for example. During the rest of the month we gather information and draw our conclusions, and then we compare them during the next chat.”

“You’ve got quite the well-oiled routine going on there, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I think it’s just to give me a chance to make my own deductions with a clear head instead of on the fly.” Midoriya scratched said tousled head in embarrassment. “I bet he doesn’t even need to do any research, he’s always on the top of his game. I’ve never been able to, uh… one-up him, you know? He always knows what I’m driving at, and somehow he always brings my hypotheses two or three steps further than where I stop.”

Toshinori answered with a non-committal hum. No surprise there, the man was a living quirk storeroom complete with its own self-congratulatory, sentient database. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not like he’s ever… disappointed or angry or anything, even if I don’t get stuff. He just enjoys chatting, I guess.” That he surely did, Toshinori grimly thought. Way too much. “And I do too. It’s kind of like a game. Or a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah, uh… How can I explain…?” The boy drummed his fingers on the bottle as he collected his thoughts. “Okay, for example: one of the first things dad asked me about Hawks was what shape his wings are, and what I could deduce from that about his flight capabilities. Which was a trick question! I knew it as soon as I heard it, because I’d already figured out the real answer during my research.”

“Ah.” Toshinori blinked. “And… how is that a trick question, exactly?”

“Because Hawks doesn’t actually fly! Not like a bird, at least, so his wing shape doesn’t matter!” Midoriya beamed, and suddenly Toshinori realized that that was the first real, genuine, enthusiastic smile the boy had given him since they’d met. And, without exaggeration, not crying, panicking or grimacing made him look almost like an entirely different person. “He simply can’t! Humans can’t fly even if you stick a pair of wings to them, they’re just too heavy! Other heroes who can fly properly are mostly transformers, like Ryukyu - their whole bodies change when they shift, bone structure and all - but Hawks’ body is entirely human if you exclude his wings.”

Midoriya reached for his backpack and drew out the same charred notebook Toshinori had signed days earlier. An item so vital to the kid’s daily life that he always had it with him, apparently, even more essential than beverages during a workout session. A peculiar, if questionable, trait.

“What Hawks actually does isn’t flying, it’s levitating!” The kid held the notebook open before Toshinori’s eyes on a spread page dedicated to the hero in question. “He uses the second facet of his quirk, the telekinesis that allows him to control his feathers singularly! That also explains his incredible speed, which is completely unjustifiable if you only take into account normal bird flight aerodynamics. His propulsion is powered by his feathers - and each of them is quite speedy and powerful on its own, so it stands to reason that he would be lightning-fast when his wings contain so many of them pushing him in unison!”

Toshinori politely elected to wait for the onslaught of words to subside on its own, although he already suspected that it was a little like standing right under a waterfall and waiting for someone higher up to turn off the faucet.

“That said, that doesn’t explain everything about his quirk… For example, a single feather of his is capable of lifting and transporting an adult person, that has been extensively documented. Yet, he loses the ability to levitate relatively soon after dispatching too many of them - he becomes unable to float even when he still has at least several dozens of them attached to his body. We couldn’t figure out why that happens with the information we have. Maybe it’s harder for him to apply his power to himself, that is often the case for emitters. Maybe it messes with his proprioception, and he can’t control the feathers he hasn’t detached as finely as all the others…”

If there was one thing Toshinori was absolutely certain of at this point, it was that the kid wasn’t short on breath any more. “And this is the part you inferred on your own.”

“Yep! And dad agreed with all of it!” Midoriya’s smile grew even wider. It was astonishing how much it didn’t look like dad’s deranged, shark-like, nightmare-inducing sneer, and Toshinori could only send a quiet thanks to the heavens for that. “This is all guesswork though. Do you… by any chance, do you know if we were on the right track? I’d be really curious to know…”

“Ah, I can’t help you there, kid.” Toshinori felt suddenly on the spot. “I’m not acquainted with Hawks, nor do I know more about his quirk than the average person.”

“Oh, I thought… Since you’re both- I mean, I thought All Might may have met him during the billboard chart events, what with them both being in the top ten.”

“We passed by each other, yes, but we were never properly introduced. He wasn’t particularly interested in rubbing elbows with the old guard, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s his loss, for sure.” Midoriya, funnily enough, pouted. “Pity, I was wondering… Even if he doesn’t fly, he does flap his wings in a way that resembles a bird’s. I wonder if that’s intentional, to mislead opponents and prevent them from figuring out how he actually moves. Or maybe he does it subconsciously…”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know…” Toshinori had never met Hawks on the field either, it wasn’t common for accidents to require more than a single big-name hero to intervene these days. Especially if one of them was the number one, who often showed up first and invariably solved any incident in mere minutes-

Toshinori suddenly came back to himself and almost facepalmed in frustration. Why was he letting himself be interrogated about completely irrelevant hero trivia? He was the one asking questions! God, he was bad at this. “And your father had nothing to contribute about all this?”

“Not about this specifically, but he did raise a point I hadn’t considered.” Midoriya looked up at the sky, once again lost in his very wordy, very deep lucubrations. “Hawks has an astonishing control on his quirk. He can use his telekinesis to move hundreds of feathers at once, to sense his surroundings, he can even harden them and turn them into weapons. He made Fierce Wings into an incredibly versatile ability, and he’s so young too… And yet, there’s no record of him attending any hero school or training facility in Japan, nor abroad. He claims to be self-taught, but… admittedly, it is hard to believe. One would think he must have had some excellent education and tutoring to make it into the top ten when he was only eighteen…”

Toshinori didn’t reply. Midoriya looked back at him when the silence stretched, and whatever he spied on Toshinori’s face made him immediately backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s odd, but, uh… not suspicious per se, nor a sign of anything… weird or bad about him. There are many heroes who, ehr, prefer to keep their personal history private, especially geniuses, and that’s fine! They have all the right to! Same goes for their quirks, it makes total sense-”

Toshinori massaged his left temple slowly. Right, better just nip this topic in the bud before it got irredeemably out of hand.

He peered again at the notebook in Midoriya’s hands. So All For One had been imparting occasional, amicable quirk analysis lessons to the kid for a good decade, which sounded suspiciously like the kind of knowledge a potential underling or successor might use. On the other hand, Toshinori could think of a million other ways for the Symbol of Fear to instil skills in his son - all of them remarkably more efficient, safe, manageable and ruthless. The whole thing was contradictory in a way that didn’t sit right with Toshinori.

“Mind if I take another look at that?” Toshinori had been in a bit of a rush the first time round, and he’d only taken a cursory glance at the contents of Midoriya’s notes. But if there was a chance of those pages containing words uttered by All For One himself, a more thorough examination was in order.

“Not at all! But, uh…” Midoriya was fast to hand out the item, but his eagerness to assist was even faster to dampen. “Are you going to retain this as evidence too?”

“Mh, I don’t think that will be necessary...” Right, the poor kid’s house had probably been ransacked even further after Toshinori and Tsukauchi’s first pass. No wonder he was worried about losing this prized possession too. “But if it will be, I can make a copy of it for you to keep, so you won’t lose all your, uh, data.”

“Oh, thanks! That would be great!” The kid perked up instantly. He was so easy to please. “Although… I guess I should make a copy of it myself anyway. It’s already kind of… unrecoverable. I could detach the pages with All Might’s sign and preserve those separately, and just photocopy everything else…”

Toshinori’s imagination mercilessly supplied him with the picture of a new addition to Midoriya’s bedroom decor, his five-second poorly-made signature hung to a wall in an elegant frame. He repressed a groan, deliberately neglected to point out that he could simply provide as many new authentic signs as needed, and directed his attention back to the scorched edges of the notebook. “Right… What happened to this thing, anyway? Did someone put it in a toaster?”

Midoriya let out a totally not nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands in a totally not nervous fashion. “Oh, uhm... You know…” Toshinori didn’t, actually, but the kid didn’t elaborate either.

Well, he was allowed to have a modicum of privacy, still. Toshinori let the issue drop, and nudged the boy with his foot. “You seem well rested. Back to the trash you go.”

Midoriya shuffled to his feet less than enthusiastically, and resumed toiling away at his task. While still checking on him often, ready to poke and prod at the first hint of sluggishness, Toshinori browsed through the kid’s notebook. While the contents were indeed worthy of attention, they were scarce in quantity. It must be rather new, since less than a quarter of the pages had been filled. However, the promise of more material to be discovered made Toshinori withhold his judgement on the matter for the time being.

Once that was done, he continued his perusal of the few files Tsukauchi had already put together about the Midoriya case. Toshinori had practically begged his friend to let him have an active role, any active role in the case: he simply couldn’t bear to twiddle his thumbs until someone else kindly pointed him to All For One’s hideout for another overdue thrashing. He simply needed to be involved, or he’d probably start crawling up walls within a week.

Questioning the kid was pretty much the only suitable occupation for him, currently… Well, it was either that or questioning Mrs. Midoriya, and Toshinori was fairly sure that his brain would leak out of his ears if he heard any more details about All For One’s romantic escapades. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investigative work, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was going to spare no effort to earn some results. If that meant poring over reams of police reports in the hopes of spotting some helpful clue, so be it. At least it would keep him busy, and busy was good, especially in trying times.

He’d applied the same logic to Midoriya, in a sense. The boy seemed the kind of person who’d very easily overthink himself into a negative spiral, even in less dire circumstances than the messy family drama he’d found himself into. It would do him good to focus on a better future, rather than on his depressing present. Giving him a goal to set his sights on would keep him going more smoothly.

At first Toshinori had thought to motivate him towards his dream career, but it turned out that the boy’s strategy about the admission test was… nebulous at best. Not that he could truly blame him for it: fourteen-year-old Toshinori didn’t exactly have a multi-step plan towards becoming the Symbol of Peace either, one couldn’t help being somewhat scatterbrained at that age.

The illegal dumping site had been a serendipitous discovery, and cleaning it up was the perfect type of goal to incite the boy towards. It was very obvious and straightforward, and required no intricate planning: he simply needed to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. And the muscle he’d build while doing it would serve him well for heroic purposes too, so it was a win-win on all fronts. Not to mention that some good old physical exertion would help him sleep at night, which he was still struggling with, if the persistent bags under his eyes were of any indication. Toshinori dearly missed the times when that trick still worked on him too, when driving himself to the brink of exhaustion was a guaranteed one-way ticket to restful and regenerative dreamland. Nowadays, if he accumulated even a sliver of excessive fatigue, all he got was… well, fatigue. And a metric ton of unrelenting body pains and lasting debilitation.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly and unremarkably. Midoriya drudged through many rounds of garbage disposal with decreasing energy and verve, but that was to be expected. Toshinori collected more barely relevant and generally useless information, but that was to be expected too. They were both in for the long haul, there was no point in getting upset about it. Eventually the sun started to set, and Toshinori beckoned the boy back to him with a handwave.

“You have more of these?” Toshinori said, tapping his index on the big 13 on the cover of the notebook still on his lap.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you bring them with you next time?”

“All of them?” Midoriya seemed frazzled.

“If you still have them, yes. Would that be a problem?”

The boy scratched his head as his cheek reddened slightly. “N-No, not a problem, but some of them are really… I finished the first one when I was seven. They aren't just outdated, they’re… ehr, childish. Just doodles and misspelled ramblings.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be grading them.” Not yet, at least. Toshinori smirked at his own private joke. Maybe he should grade them, as a small practice run. “I just want to give a quick read to a few things here and there.”

“O-Okay…”

“Good. Well, I think we can call it a day.” Toshinori rummaged in his cooler to fetch a chocolate energy bar, and tossed it to the exhausted boy. “Catch.”

Despite the warning, Midoriya did not catch, and the snack bumped against his chest and fell to the ground with a sad clack. Reflexes were MIA too, apparently. What a rare specimen of a prospective hero Toshinori had crossed paths with.

“T-Thank you!” Midoriya immediately picked it up, unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth as he hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. Whether it was real hunger or fear of passing as rude, Toshinori couldn’t tell.

The drive to Midoriya’s house was brief. The boy was too tired to chat - as if they hadn’t already had their fill for the day. When they arrived and Midoriya climbed out of the vehicle to be on his way, Toshinori finally addressed one last pressing issue.

“Tomorrow your father is going to call you.”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyes dropped to the ground. Maybe Toshinori should have brought it up sooner. Way to end the meeting on a sour note.

“How are you going to handle that?”

“I’m not.” The boy shrugged. “Mom will tell him I just got my tonsils removed. It's… safer for now. I think.”

Toshinori nodded. “Let’s take a day off then. Even if you can’t speak, he might want to say something to you, and it would be strange for you not to be at home while recovering.”

“Okay.”

He looked so very small, and so very young like that, bathed in the warm hues of sunset, but with no real warmth to his eyes and demeanor. He was too small and too young to be dealing with this shit. No one was old or big enough to deal with any of All For One’s shit, really. Toshinori would have to make sure no one would have to ever again.

“Thank you for your help today. It’s very appreciated, believe me.” Toshinori offered, with his most sincere smile. “Feel free to text me or Tsukauchi if anything comes up, you should be able to reach at least one of us at any hour of day or night.”

“Okay. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too, kid.” Toshinori watched him until the door of his house closed behind his back, then he drove off.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku #izuku midoriya #All Might #Toshinori Yagi

21 notes · View notes

cherryyjjk · 3 years

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forever rain [2]

summary: to greek gods, it was a well-known fact that the fates liked to play tricks. but was this too far? what would happen when they made two unlikely gods have a tugging string in their hearts, yearning for each other?

pairing: hades!jin x persephone!reader

genre: fluff / angst / greek god! au / black swan! au

word count: 18.3k

warnings: the use of the word “whore” / cursing / snake mention

a/n: WOW this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. please check out both pt 1 and the note about this series in my masterlist before reading! i know this is SO overdue like a year overdue. i’ve been writing it in the last three months bc school <<. anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy!! :D

By the time you wake up, he is gone— not that you had known he sat next to you. But when you rose up from your slumber, a coat fell from your shoulders.

His..?

You looked at it and wondered if he had given it to you. It was a thoughtful gesture, and a necessary one as your hands were getting numb. Before wrapping it around your shoulders, you stretch your hands above you. Blinking the drowsiness out of your eyes and sitting up a little further, you yawned and decided to stand up. Your feet hit a softer material that you weren’t expecting, making you look down. The cold floor that was there yesterday was covered by a soft gray rug and you moved your toes to feel it more.

Him and his dark colors.

You rolled your eyes at the color palette of the entire room and thought that maybe the guy hadn’t decorated in a while. It made you think of Yoongi's liking for dark colors even though he was viewed as basically the opposite— the god of love. If you were going to live here for the rest of your life, a thought that made you sigh, might as well change the place a bit. Adding tones of lighter colors would not be so bad, maybe brighten up the room and seem less like a cave and more like a palace. You looked around the room to the lanterns on the wall and decided that you would have to do something about that.

It didn’t even light up the room! What was the point of lights if you can’t even see the floor?

The air seemed less tense than when you entered the palace and you were definitely feeling it. The entire palace was suffocating when you walked inside, cold and sharp as if to hurt you. But now, it seemed different. Maybe not soft or lush like your home— or what was your home in the mortal realm. It was rather empty instead of spikes, a little bit better, but not great either.

You continued to look around the room before your eyes landed on a small nightstand and saw a few warmer clothes. You walked towards it and with one hand, as the other was tightly holding his coat, you felt the material. It was a lot thicker than your chiton and was a dark green, reminiscent of the forest trees back home. Your lips lifted up in a light smile at the thought and decided to change into it. Before removing your current dress, you saw that there was a flower. You didn’t understand how flowers could grow in the Underworld, and when you picked it up and realized it was a silver color, but fake. Not the color of jewelry that you often saw other mortals wearing, but like a coin. It was pretty.

A piece of paper fell on the floor that had been next to the flower. Picking up to read it, you were surprised by the penmanship.

My apologies, Persephone. I have some duties I must attend to in Olympus. This palace is yours as well, ask for anything to the ghosts and they shall bring it.

You grimaced. While it was a thoughtful gesture in any other circumstance, you still were wary of this God. Putting the flower back on the table, you changed. The dress made you feel a lot warmer and the cloak was quickly discarded.

What time was it in the mortal world?

You wondered how time seemed to simultaneously slow down and speed up. Slowly tip-toeing out the room, you closed the door behind you very softly and continued through the hall. The hall seemed a little more lit up but it was still darker than usual. You wondered if you could use your powers to grow a bioluminescent lily, and light up the hallway. But after squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate, holding your palms out, and thinking heavily about life, you could not do it. You couldn’t even produce a regular lily. You didn’t understand.

Where did my powers go? How would I go back home? Was I.. not a goddess anymore?

You took a few deep breaths and reminded yourself, relax, it’s fine. But it seemed far from fine, you would just have to ask Hades when you saw him. You roamed around the hallways, finding winding staircases, huge rooms, empty rooms, rooms that weren’t empty but you wished they were when you saw inside, and all filled with the scent of death. You quickly turned away from those rooms and opted to keep walking.

It seemed that minutes turned into an hour, an hour and a half, then two. You brought your hands together and rubbed them together. The hallway seemed to never end and you wondered where the door was. You just wanted some fresh air, you tried convincing yourself. It’s not like I’m trying to escape..

“Excuse me,” a voice called out. Your eyes widened and you whipped your head back to only see more darkness, and heard it continue, “but who are you?”

“Don’t come closer! I might seem weak but I could knock you out with one punch.” Your voice was a lot steadier than you let on. You were tired of being afraid all the time.

“..I’m sure you can but you didn’t answer my question. I don’t care what type of hero or princess you were as a mortal but you’re dead now. Listen up, I’m in charge here.”

“Mortal?”

“Yes, didn’t your mother ever tell you not to get a God angry?”

“..I’m Kore, the daughter of Demeter. Goddess of the Spring, flora, and fauna. Whoever you are, know this. I am in charge here.”

The hallway suddenly brightened up and you lifted yourself with your head held up high. While the light was too bright for your eyes, you tried not to let it phase you and faced the figure that revealed itself in the light. You glared at the man in front of you, he was wrapped in a black cloth— seriously, what was up with the color scheme here?— and wouldn’t meet your eyes. He quickly glanced at you with a grimace but kept his head down for the remainder of the time as he felt utterly embarrassed. His scythe that was on his back made your eyebrows raise.

“Well?”

“Look, I’m sorry—“

“You better be, and you better tell me quickly why you tried to trick me before I turn you into a cactus.”

“..I’m Thanatos, the God of Death, the one who reaps the souls. I..I come here to report to Hades. I didn’t know his wife was here.”

At the word wife, you twitched. You weren’t just someone’s wife, you were your own goddess. Styx, the gods needed to learn some manners. You stepped up close to him, still with a serious gaze. Grabbing his shoulder, you speak coldly.

“Don’t call me just his wife. I’m more than that.”

“R-right, sorry. Kore.”

“No, not Kore. That is reserved for my mother and the nymphs. Call me, Y/N.”

Thanatos looked at you quizzically. You seemed so calm and usually this was where the other gods would punish him. You gave a small smile before complimenting on his scythe. He had never encountered any god that was so carefree and kind. You looked young, maybe a few eons old, yet your eyes held a soft wise look that could only come with experiences.

You asked curiously, “Did you make it so that these hallways are so dark?”

Thanatos answered quickly and rushed over his words, “Um, yes. I apologize. It’s much brighter because Hades sometimes mirrors the daytime of the mortal world.”

“Hm, so you’re the one who made me lost!”

Thanatos tried to test his luck, he was a God he couldn’t possibly die, right?

“..You’ve been wandering in circles for the last half an hour.”

“..And?”

You scoffed at his continued rudeness but it seemed more playful than last time. It was better than being alone all the time, sure, but you wanted to ask someone who didn’t know what was going on like you. Couldn’t the Fates just help you out here? But truly, you were happy to smile and have a friend.

“It gets kinda lonely here, doesn’t it?”

“..Yes. Hades often works until he collapses.”

“You don’t have to be so formal with me, please let us walk.”

You pondered over Thanatos’s words, did he really work like that? That wasn’t healthy but you wouldn’t fret over it for too long, he could take care of himself. Switching to think about yourself, you realized you didn’t have any contact with Jimin, your mother, or anyone else you knew. It was just you in this huge palace, and the guy in front of you of course.

“Hm, Thanatos?”

“Yes?”

“Is it.. just you here?”

“Well, mortal souls come and go. Some heroes test their luck with Hades but he’s colder than Hera.”

“In that case, mind being my companion until I go home?”

Thanatos didn’t understand your request. Not only had you just asked the personification of death, the son of Nyx, to be your friend, but you proposed it as if you were leaving. No one but himself and Hades left the Underworld. Thanatos was baffled beyond measure and his face showed it completely. You tried not to get frustrated at his obvious confusion and waited patiently.

“Oh, um. Sure.”

“Awesome, now onto more important matters. Why the fuck am I here?”

“W-What? What do you mean? Didn’t Zeus—”

“Namjoon? I haven’t seen that old man in ages!”

Thanatos stuttered, understanding that you were a powerful Goddess was one thing but talking about the King of all Gods so casually was a whole other. “Well, Hades has visited you once, when you were younger. He asked Zeus for your name and Zeus told him that you and your mother would have wanted this union.”

“When I was younger? OH!”

Suddenly you remembered when you had first come down to Earth to live with your mother. She was busy the first few months and had let you wander off (with nymph supervision of course) but as the mischievous child you were, you had run fast away until you hit a river. At the river you distinctly remembered a young man, the same age as you practically, that held out a purple flower. Entranced by the dark petals— usually only bright yellows and oranges were flowers— and by the dashing young man, you had become friends. Rarely speaking about yourselves, you would talk about flowers. Something both of you really liked. Now that Thanatos mentioned it, the black messed up hair seemed to resemble Hades, and his love for dark colors— something that you didn’t quite agree with— was evident too.

“Oh..I see. Well, my mother would never give me off to someone! She’s wonderful and very protective so Joon’s lied to you. But I guess that’s something to settle with Hades himself. Now, what’s something fun we could do around here?”

Thanatos slowly smiled at your enthusiasm, it was like a breath of life into his life. He had lived most of his life in the shadow of his mentor, Hades and although he enjoyed Hades’s company..it was hurting him. Thanatos wanted to be known for his own thing, why didn’t he have altars or temples in the mortal realm? Though that question was probably fruitless since mortals didn’t know what they were doing most of the time.

For the next few days, or weeks— you couldn’t really tell— you spent your time with Thanatos when he was free. He was free almost all of the time, showing many new rooms and how to not get lost through the hallways. He also let you vent about your worries. You worried that your mother must have been saddened without your presence, and maybe even Jimin was missing your short talks. Hopefully the flowers in the meadow had fully bloomed by now. All of these things, and more, kept running through your head and you liked that Thanatos had basically nothing else to do but give you advice. You appreciated his company but you wanted to see the person that brought you here too. Hades— Seokjin you figured out from Thanatos— was apparently extremely busy with human deaths. Maybe there was a new sacrifice that Zeus was putting them through? Or maybe another war? You didn’t really care too much until you realized that Seokjin would have to stay up there, counting and making sure that everyone and everything that died was in place before coming back. That’s supposed to be Thanatos’s job but apparently even he couldn’t round that many people. Strange.

A conversation with Thanatos also raised your frustration.

“So Tan-Tan.”

“No.”

“Tosy?”

“Nope.”

“Tanny?”

“..Can you please just call me Thanatos, Y/N.”

“You call me Y/N! Come on, let me give you a nickname.”

“Y/N is the name you chose. That’s different and no.”

“You’re literally so boring. Anyways, when’s Hades coming back? I’m getting tired of your face.”

“I am literally not boring! I’m Death, how can I be boring? aND MY FACE IS PRETTY WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

“You talk like— never mind. Ignoring your pretty obvious questions, I asked, why is Seokjin taking so long?”

Thanatos paused, Zeus had warned the minor god that if he told Y/N what was happening in the world above, he’d be cursed. Being cursed as a God was the farthest from good.

“Mortals..have been in a war recently.”

“Oh, whatever for? They have food, warm weather, sunshine, and plentiful water. There shouldn’t be anything missing…Right?”

Good thing that he would be able to escape your line of questions by just disappearing in a fit of smoke. You glared at Thanatos and when you started seeing smoke forming. You lifted your hand to stop him but it passed through the air like nothing was there.

Stupid Thanatos, thinking he can trick me. I’ll figure out what’s happening up there!

You tried to be determined but you were scared too.

You reached for the front door of the palace, somehow making itself very easy to find, and you pulled on the handle. It didn’t budge. You pulled harder, it stayed the same. Realizing that you were still stuck here, you tried punching the door. But that only left you with a hurt pride and a bruised knuckle. Groaning loudly, you dragged your feet back to your bedroom and decided to take a nap.

Better than waiting for him to come back.

By the time you woke up, an empty gold plate was left on your nightstand. You rubbed the drowsiness out of your eyes and reached for it. Ghost servants usually came to give you your meals this way. An empty plate where you can think about what you want and it’ll appear. It was pretty nice but you were getting more tired about the fact that no one would eat with you.

You finished your lunch? Dinner? You didn’t know and didn’t bother figuring out. A few days ago, Thanatos had shown you a library and you had been encouraged to use it. You had picked out a few books and was still reading it. (F/G) was by far the best genre and you always liked authors that wrote about it.

While reading on the bed, you decided to move around for a change of scenery. Wandering the hallways alone, you stopped in front of your favorite room. The throne room. Also the room that was “off limits” but you lived here so you didn’t really care.

The warning was for a reason. Hades didn’t think you would be there and so when he first shadow travelled there, he was surprised. Finally, the person that plagued your days and nights had come home. But he didn’t look great.

You had heard his footsteps before seeing his face, thinking it was just Thanatos. You sat on Hades’s throne, as it was the only one there. It looked a lot like a hard brick of marble, and definitely felt like it, but it was a lot softer than you imagined too. Not nearly as soft as the meadows back home. It was cold and smooth, like the freshwater rivers.

Wonderful.

Soft footsteps grabbed your attention from the book and up to the person in front of you. Your feet that were haphazardly thrown over the throne quickly turned around to the front. The book once in your hands dropped to the floor but you didn’t rush forward to meet him.

Hades.

“What happened?” You asked breathlessly, your hands fumbling with each other but your feet didn’t move. Hades’s shirt was soaked with gold and he was limping towards you.

Was this a trick? To make you vulnerable?

He looked at you and you could only comprehend the soft murmur of your name on his lips before he fell forward, his eyes closing shut.

You’re here...Y/N..

Running towards his side, you caught him as he landed on your chest. You felt a blade handle on his back and held back a scream.

Hades had gone up to Mount Olympus the very next morning after your arrival into the palace. His brother Namjoon had looked at him in confusion, Seokjin never came late to their monthly briefings, opting to come on time and leave as fast as he could, but usually they would take a few weeks to finish. His hair had been tousled through several times and he kept clutching his feather necklace when listening to Namjoon, Hermes, and the other gods and goddesses’s discussion of famine, war, and other things that were troubling mortals.

They only knew this because mortals just loved to blame the gods for not being able to do anything to save them. But, when in peril, their curses turned into prayers and while it annoyed the everliving Styx out of all them, it made sense. Deities that were supposed to be all powerful couldn’t even get rid of a simple plague or bug that was absolutely destroying the population and food? Seemed sketchy.

Namjoon wanted to ask what his brother was thinking about but whenever he looked at the feather dangling from his neck, he shut his mouth. When the Gods were first born to take care of the world, Namjoon had banished Seokjin to the Underworld. Only giving a necklace with a black feather before doing so, saying that his miseries would be fulfilled when the necklace was put on its rightful owner. What authority did he have on his brother’s life if he was the one who made it so horrible?

No, Namjoon would keep his bruised ego to himself and stay silent. He did not get the right to ask him what the matter was— it just seemed wrong and distasteful. So, he turned a blind eye and let Seokjin leave in a rush. Jin always left in a rush, he didn’t like sleeping in Olympus for so long. Namjoon was so preoccupied with his thoughts, that he didn’t notice his brother stopping at the foot of Olympus and meeting her.

Unfortunately for Seokjin, it was only the mother of who he was so concerned about. He wondered if the Fates had just thought it would be funny to pair the quietest god with you. He had heard wonderful stories of you, Kore. The original reason he was so attracted to you. Zeus himself had told him that you were the strongest and kindest Goddess there was, sprinkling in your humor and beauty to try and make you seem more appealing. But Seokjin had met you once, you had mistaken him for a minor god. That was eons ago, you probably didn’t even remember but the way you had walked towards him, with such confidence and power.

God, he really liked you.

He felt bad at the same time, here he was, this lovestruck God, for a Goddess that probably despised him from taking you away from your home. Did the Fates hate you so badly to let Zeus convince him to take you? Jin was about to greet your mother but the slap to his face certainly made him backtrack.

Demeter slapped him and the fury she brought with her made all present in Olympus tremble. She spoke with such power, it was clear where you inherited your confidence.

“Are you happy? Now that you have my daughter all to yourself?”

Jin gently touched his red cheek, confused at the sudden aggression and onslaught of questions.

Didn’t Zeus say that Demeter and you were glad to be offered a proposal from him?

“She’s the only thing that kept me alive, the world spinning, and here you are, not even at her side! You fool! Don’t take my status among the Olympians lightly, I am still powerful and if you cross me I will make you regret it.”

Demeter yelled out in one breath, as if she had been waiting years to say it. Her frustration and anger was evident and the icy tone could easily cut harshly into the heart, “Does it bring you so much joy to have Persephone all to yourself? My most precious possession—?”

“She is not an object.”

Demeter paused, then scoffed at Seokjin’s quiet but confident interjection. She glanced up at him and almost gasped at his eyes which had a purple fire burning in them.

Instinctively taking a step back and crossing her arms around her shoulders, she continued, “..Obviously. But you’re still in the wrong. How dare you take her! I’m her mother, you are nothing.”

The fire in Seokjin’s eyes simmered down but were still clearly there, and he responded with a level tone, “It doesn’t matter who I am or will be to Y/N. You or any other living, dead, or immortal being can not talk about her like that.”

“Stop talking like the hero, you stole her!”

“Stole her? Zeus said—”

“Zeus is a liar. You, of all people, should know this.”

Seokjin fell quiet and his eyes returned to their normal color, he couldn’t bring himself to disagree now that he knew the truth. He had stolen you, and he laughed at himself in his thoughts. Who was he to defend you like this when he treated you the same way?

He was not your husband, whether or not the Fates tied your strings together, whether or not Zeus had assured him that you were happy to be with him. He had witnessed the marriages of his siblings and their respective significant others. The Olympians were famous for their affairs, demigod children, and stupidity. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t end up like that, or force his significant other to love him. No, that would be your decision and your decision only. But the moment you step into the Underworld, there was a rule that applied to everyone except himself and Thanatos. No one could leave.

“..Goodbye Demeter.”

Seokjin kept his head down and vanished with only a black smoke left behind in his wake. Demeter folded her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

“You’ll regret this, God of Death. Mark my words, she is not yours.”

Seokjin appeared in the middle of Demeter’s palace, somewhere completely different to where he was aiming. He should work on his powers.

What type of god (a bumbling idiot for sure) couldn’t even control his powers? He wasn’t a few eons on for Styx sake! But he definitely acted like a blushing teenager when around you— again, another thing he sincerely had to work on.

He looked around the white, marble balcony he was standing in. He could feel you. But you weren’t here…right? Where was he? He willed himself to shadow travel again and landed in the middle of a town. If he could still call it that.

It was destroyed.

By war, famine, or a plague, even Seokjin would never know. It was barren, but he heard coughing in a few huts. The crops in the field nearby had dried up and the river that used to flow was only a trickle. He walked through the paths and found a family of two bundled together trying to fight off the cold— cold?

Now that he thought about it, it was freezing. There was frost on the ground. Usually the mortal realm was flourishing in either Spring or Summer but it was neither right now. What was this cold, soul-less feeling? Something was terribly wrong and Seokjin was sure Demeter should have fixed it back to Spring.

Was this her anger?

Seokjin shook his head in confusion. Obviously, Demeter was angry that her only daughter was taken from her. The thought made Hades nauseous, how would he fix this? Better question, shouldn’t Namjoon have said something in the meeting?

Seokjin’s ears burned red when he realized that they probably did. It’s just that he was too preoccupied by the thought of you and your enchanting eyes, and soft lips— oh shit, shit, shit. Trying to snap out of it, Seokjin failed to hear the small footsteps of a child behind him.

Not that it should matter, mortals couldn’t see him. Right? The Fates were probably laughing at him, one of the Big Three yet he was dumber than a skeleton.

“Sir?”

Seokjin whipped his head around so fast that he was sure he heard a crack. But he was more focused and confused on the little child staring up at him in curious wonder. The kid had matted hair and a cloth dress that was barely thick enough to keep her from getting goosebumps on her arms. She was staring up at him but the dagger in her hand radiated power, but not just any power.

Godly power.

It flowed through the dagger into the surrounding air and Seokjin was sure that at this point there was no way this child wasn’t a monster or a god in disguise.

Her eyes suddenly rolled back and turned white. With her mouth open, she started to chant ancient Greek at a speed even Seokjin couldn’t keep up to, but he picked up one phrase.

Περσεφόνη νεκρός, άνοιξη νεκρός.

Everything clicked in his head just as the girl seemed to vanish.

Persephone is dead, Spring is dead.

Seokjin felt an electric shock in the middle of his back, intense heat, and then he doubled over from pain. He hadn’t experienced such scalding and burning feelings ever. His legs collapsed from under him and when he looked at his hand covering his midsection, he saw ichor, the golden blood of all immortal beings, covering his hand. He looked behind him to see the young, mortal girl.

“Demeter.”

The young girl transformed into the goddess in an instant and the dagger in her hand was coated with ichor. Looking at it made him queasy— ironic because he’s the god of the dead and he’s getting nauseous from blood. Poseidon and Zeus would surely laugh at his deplorable state if they ever saw him. But Seokjin was still more concerned about why Demeter had stabbed him.

Demeter may have been angry but not enough to kill— even she had principles. But, nonetheless impressive, he’ll give her that. But the pain was making him see black flecks in his vision— poison perhaps. It made him more worried than he should be.

“You were foolish to think that I would let you get away with this. Truly, is there anything in that head of yours?”

“You— why? I didn’t take her on purpose!”

“LIES, you men are all the same! But, don’t you like my little toy? It’s wonderful, truly. Hephaestus must’ve pitied me, not that I care as he has his own problems with Aphrodite and Ares, but he made a weapon that even a God could get hurt from. Zeus said I had one chance, but judging by the fact he lied to me, I don’t care. Now, this. THIS is for Persephone. DO NOT FORGET IT.”

With that, Demeter stabbed Hades in the same wound and Seokjin yelled out. The tip of the blade sank deeper and Demeter twisted it to make sure the blade touched every part of his wound. She jerked it out only to push it further, making Seokjin choke and roar in agonizing pain. Demeter saw the ichor flowing freely out of the wound and stepped back. She disappeared into the night, leaving Seokjin alone. He had one thought in his mind while the pain took all energy out of him to do anything else.

Y/N

His form was gone with a flash and all that was left of his presence was the pool of ichor on the ground. Even that faded into the ground.

“Styx! Hades, Hades, stay awake!” You screamed while trying to see how to pull out the dagger that was inches deep in his back.

His breathing had slowed down and your hands were frantically trying to keep him up. The bedroom was way too far so you would have to set him down on the floor. Trying to be careful, you made him lean on you and sit on the floor. His head was on your chest and his eyes were closed. There was a bit of gold on his lips and you were getting increasingly worried.

You looked around, “Shit, this is bad. Thanatos! How did this..” You tried not to shuffle Hades around but your arms were weak with worry.

Thanatos immediately appeared in front of you at your request and the scene made him startled. His hands were shaking and he didn’t understand what was happening. The words you were saying were muffled and his eyes were blurred. He could only look at the deep gash and the skin cut around it, a horrible shade of green.

“Thanatos! Pay attention. I need you to stay calm and get me some bandages, okay? Can you do that?” Your voice was shaking but you tried to keep it level.

His head nodded slightly and he instantly disappeared. He’d have to find mortal supplies because there was no reason to keep medical supplies in a palace for a god. Something was very wrong. Gods couldn’t die, right?

“Okay, okay Y/N. You got this, just put pressure on the wound and seal it shut. Okay, how hard could this be?” You reassured yourself in frustration, you were scared beyond belief.

You hesitantly put your hands on the dagger’s handle and when you touched it, a blood curdling scream left Seokjin’s mouth.

His breathing was getting shorter and faster, but he was still awake. You had nurtured a squirrel back to life after it fell down a tree but that was basically all the experience you had with medical equipment. You reasoned that until Thanatos brought back bandages, you wouldn’t be able to securely stitch up his back wound. A thought entered your mind, Why are you helping him?, but you shook it off as soon as you thought about it. It didn’t matter, Hades didn’t deserve to die.

“O-okay Hades, I’m gonna need you to stay calm. Okay? I’m flipping you on to your stomach, just keep talking to me okay?”

“I.. okay. I’ll keep talking..”

“Good, that’s good. You’re doing great.”

“You can call me Jin, you know.”

“Oh alright, Jin. You can call me Y/N, just keep talking.”

You slowly put your hands on his chest, trying to ignore how your left shoulder was numb from his weight, and slowly focused on the dagger in front of you. You could see the wound was ghastly. Green and gold colors mixed, as if it was poisoned. Poison. You hoped you would be able to save him. The ichor had finally clotted on the dagger, but the green foam seemed to keep stopping Jin’s body from regenerating. You remembered when you fell once and got a scratch, it instantly healed.

“Shit, shit, shit. This i-isn’t working. I-I need to—“

Jin frowned, “It’s okay Y/N. Don’t…worry. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not healing, you are not fine!” You insisted. “I wish I had my powers, then I could do something. Ugh, this is so stupid.”

Jin paused, thinking over your words. “They don’t work here? That’s odd. My palace..should let you have everything.”

You huffed. “Uh-huh, you’re telling me. Look, just…don’t die, alright? We’ve barely met and I’d like to be friends.. again.”

“Did..Thanatos tell you that we were friends?”

“..No, I remembered it on my own obviously. It’s not like it’s been eons since then.”

“Y/N,” Jin’s clammy hand found your open one. “You’re really…something.”

You grimaced when he squeezed your hand from the pain. You were pleasantly surprised with how this conversation was turning out, it didn’t seem too forced. But it was almost like the Fates were tricking you again. Probably laughing at your naivety and hope.

Jin groaned and particularly squeezed your hand tighter, making you yelp in surprise. He apologized softly but even you could see that the poison was seeping through his shirt more and making it lighter somehow— possibly from the golden color of his blood.

You’re losing time, and Jin is not getting better. You really don’t want him to die, and you’re not really sure why either.

What has Jin done for you? He’s taken you away from your home, forced you to live in his palace, and for what? To be his ever loving, loyal, and submissive trophy wife?

Whispers in your mind keep telling you, don’t care! But you can’t. You can’t just leave him here, hurt and poisoned. You won’t.

Maybe that’s your fatal flaw. Helping everyone without actually considering if they deserve it. Maybe your mother was right, you aren’t ready for this world. But it didn’t matter. Jin needed your help, and you were going to help him. Somehow.

Looking down at Jin’s body, he was still breathing but definitely labored. You didn’t know how to help him other than try to put pressure on the wound. Recounting words from a friend, you decided that a certain god might be able to help you.

“Oh Apollo, God of Immeasurable Light, the Healer of Sickness and Diseases. Please, I ask you to heal Hades for he has done no wrong where this poison should have befallen him. Please, listen to my prayer.”

Kore, daughter of Demeter and Goddess of the Spring, flora, and fauna. You ask for too much. What has happened to Hades is of his own doing.

“Who has he hurt? Let him live and I will see to it that they are reimbursed for his sins.”

Oh, Y/N. You do not understand. He has hurt someone that is insatiable. What they want will never be allowed for.

“Who? Who has he hurt? Surely I can convince them?”

You will do it? For his life? What has he done that makes you compelled so? Saving his life is not simple. My powers may not curse you but you will be eternally bound to your duty after he has been healed.

“Do not ask a question that is none of your business. I shall complete your task when he has fully healed. Now, heal him!”

Alright. But do not beg me to undo this.

You didn’t think about what would happen to you. Hoseok was usually kind and the task would not be so heartless. You’re sure he was only being so formal because of pleasantries..right?

As you questioned your intentions, you saw that the green foam was becoming concentrated into a glass-like orb. It was the potent poison that the blade had been coated with. You carefully took it in your hand and stuffed it in one of the pockets of your dress.

Lifting Jin so that his face was facing you, you realized he was unconscious, probably from the pain. His eyebrows furrowed, and lips in a thin line made you think of how much stress he was in. But a more pressing matter plagued your mind.

Who did this to him?

After asking Thanatos for help, the two of you were able to lift Jin into his bed and let him rest there. The entire time Seokjin couldn’t bear to remove his hand from yours and you could practically see Thanatos’s eyebrows moving up and down in a suggestive manner. That god was basically a man-child at this point.

“So, what do we do?”

“We have to wait, Y/N. There’s not much else we can do.”

“Right, right..He’ll be fine, right? Like nothing will happen to him that bad, right? Maybe I should try praying to Apollo again, yeah—“

Thanatos put a hand on your shoulder to stop your rambling and look up at him. His eyes tried to tell you to stop but you could see the pity in it.

“Y/N. It’ll be okay. You did the right thing by praying to Apollo. You should probably be more worried about yourself and what duty you have to follow than Hades. Hades is the God of the Dead, he’ll be fine.”

Your heart twisted and you could feel your hands becoming clammy. You wondered why you kept feeling so anxious, hoping that it would go away if you walked around or something. You didn’t like the antsy feeling, wanting to get rid of it by all means. The duty Apollo had asked of you didn’t even register when you were praying, you just were too preoccupied with Hades almost dying.

“Right, right..But maybe I should stay here? To make sure he’s okay?”

“..It’s your choice, but don’t let it overtake you. I can’t help both of you if you collapse from exhaustion.”

“Haha, yeah..”

Thanatos disappeared quickly after, saying he had some work to do. Taking a seat, you brushed a piece of hair out of Jin’s face while trying not to disturb him in his sleep. His left hand was still holding onto yours, not letting go anytime soon. Gently trailing over his knuckles in an effort to soothe yourself and hopefully Jin, you started thinking about your stay here.

It was shit. You had been taken from your home, the Fates had told you that you got married to the God of the Underworld, who apparently was one of your oldest friends, you were stuck in a really dark palace, and now your spouse is resting in bed from almost dying. And you’re indebted to Apollo.

Great!

Swarmed with less than kind thoughts about Seokjin and how you managed to get here, you didn’t take notice of him stirring until his hand squeezed yours slightly, “Hey sleepy head..”

He blinked lethargically, raising his right hand to stretch,“..How.. how long was I out?”

“Not long, just a few hours at most. Are you feeling any better? Need anything?”

“No.. Um, why are you helping me?”

You paused, so maybe the thoughts that plagued your mind weren’t just in your head. Not knowing how to answer— because you had been beating yourself about it too— you shrugged your shoulders.

“You don’t deserve to die, no one does. The person who stabbed you.. should watch their back. I’ll personally give them the worst harvest for the rest of their life.”

Jin laughed abruptly but the pain in his chest didn’t subside, making him cough. You lifted him up more and patted him to try to calm him down, which worked for a while. The tips of his mouth were upturned, as if he didn’t just almost die, and his ears were turning red.

“I don’t understand you, Y/N and I don’t think I ever will.”

“No problem but you got to answer me this, what in the everliving Styx happened?”

Jin’s happy expression dropped for a second and you thought it was your imagination but you could feel that the atmosphere had changed quickly.

“..Humans have been starving recently, I was afraid to tell you because you have such a close connection to them.”

“So it’s not a war, like Thanatos told me?”

“…”

You sighed a shaky breath, as this majorly concerned you. Your mother was very strict in making sure everything in Spring was correctly taken care of and nothing was out of place. If it had become so bad where people were starving, well something was wrong. War wasn’t exactly starving people, sure it could lead to less food and things but the real problem here was why everyone kept hesitating to tell why this was happening. Was Zeus mad? Was Apollo mad? Who the fuck was mad to make the mortal world so bad?

“So..you’re not going to tell me who started this?”

Instead of fidgeting with your hands, you fully sat down on the bed. You looked at the bandages on his back and decided to redo them because they had already soaked through. Carefully unwrapping the bandages, you tried not to fluster at how close you had to be to unwrap the from around his body. While rewrapping the cloth and your hands were basically hugging his torso at one point to get them all the way, Jin gently put his hand on yours.

You stopped, suddenly too aware of how you were almost cuddling Jin and how he was soothingly rubbing your hands. You could already feel your face getting hot and you desperately tried to think of anything except his hard chest or his broad shoulder you kept brushing over.

“No..no, I can’t..”

You tried not to let his words have too much of an effect on you, it’s not like he couldn’t have some privacy from you. But this was different, his life was on the line a few hours ago. You hoped you would be able to persuade him later. Right now, you had a bigger responsibility to take care of. You tightened the bandages on his torso, causing him to yell in pain.

“HEY! What was that for?!”

“You’re not.. very nice, you know that?”

The moment you said the words, your entire body sagged and Jin could feel your hands slowly pulling away. But he didn’t want to let go, they were much too comforting, much too soft for him to let go of them. Jin tried to speak but your response cut him from doing so.

“Whatever, just go to sleep Jin!”

Jin heard the crack in your voice and got ashamed of himself for not being able to answer you. He didn’t want his relationship with you to be any more strained and telling you that your mom almost killed him would definitely screw it up. While your hands had stopped and your head was down, Jin slowly turned around so he could face you. You were so preoccupied with what he had said that you didn’t realize he was facing you until he cupped your cheeks.

Your eyes were glistening a little bit, which made Jin’s entire body soften and feel helpless, but you didn’t even know why. This didn’t even happen with your mother yet when Jin was hesitant to say who hurt him, you naturally started to feel sad and uncomfortable. A few tears started to fall down and Jin softened even more, wanting to try and help you or comfort you in some way. He brushed his thumb over your cheek to get rid of the tears and you closed your eyes at the movement.

“Why can’t you just tell me? Weren’t we friends once? I’m not that kid okay! I can handle it, I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

Jin’s heart breaks at your questions and he can’t even explain how the string in his heart starts to feel strained— you feel it in your own too. Taking his hands off your cheeks and holding yours, he swiftly puts a kiss to your forehead before you can even realize. It was soft but it burned into your memory. You could feel his eyes on you but the kiss was quick and yet your cheeks felt like they were on fire from the sweet gesture. If Jimin had done it, you wouldn’t have felt anything but now that Jin did it, you definitely were feeling something.

“I want to, I do! You’re not that kid anymore, you’ve definitely grown up. But, it’s complicated and you really wouldn’t believe me.”

While you were still reeling at the revelation that Jin kissed your forehead, the god in question started feeling immensely proud of how he was making you flustered. It was a much more welcomed look than you in tears, that sight would always hurt him. He smiled lightly at your shocked expression before feeling extremely drowsy from all the events.

“..I see, alright then. Tell me when we’re better friends.”

God, they’re really cute. I wonder if..

Taking another risk, Jin settled his head into your lap and you almost stopped breathing.

Never thought I’d say this but my husband is going to be the death of me.

“It’ll take a while but I will. Eventually.”

After that day, the two of you kept getting closer to each other. Whether that be when you woke up and saw that he had draped a blanket over you. Or when you found his office room, after a long time trying, and pushed his hair out of his face when you saw him trying to take a nap. You also helped redress his bandages because they seemed to wrinkle more often than usual; believing that Jin had something to do with it, you didn’t bring the question up.

Why would you not want to see your husband shirtless?

He even had another throne built for you beside his own, decorated with lighter colors which had made you laugh as it stood out so much in the dark room. The two of you would eat together in a dining room you didn’t even know existed. There were two big chairs on either side, but the table was so long so you opted to move it closer to him. Seokjin tried to play it off as if he was cool about it but on the inside he was screaming about how sweet the gesture was. At one point you even had the idea of making rings for each other. Seokjin was also the God of Wealth—since jewels are created underground— and so had an advantage, making two gold rings. While you tore a small piece of cloth of your green dress to make two cloth rings. Each of you wore both a gold and a cloth ring, symbolic for the friendship (and later love) you shared.

Once, he even showed you a large library, full of books about, death for sure but many others about adventures, myths, romances, fantasy, and some new ones about (F/G). You spent most of your time going between the bookshelves trying to find something to expand your knowledge on godly powers. For some practice with your own, you had asked Jin to get some seeds or plants down to the palace. But, the moment he did, they were instantly killed and even then, your powers couldn’t revive them.

“This is so useless!” You groaned for the umpteenth time, “How is it that my powers just disappear?”

Jin looked at you and hummed in solidarity, “I’m not sure, I’ll check the library for some books about godly powers and um, maybe Demeter..”

At the mention of your mother, you stiffened but forced yourself to loosen your limbs. You shook your head from the intrusive thoughts and nodded towards Jin, allowing him to lead the way to the library as you thought about what your mother had taught you about your powers.

They are an extension of yourself, Kore. If you’re uncomfortable, it’ll become jagged and out of control.

Jagged and out of control was certainly the emotions and atmosphere you had when you came into Hades’s palace.

You have to control your powers just like you are able to control your emotions.

Your environment is important. Olympus is not a place where your powers can work because Spring does not touch it. Only the mortal realm does.

Maybe the Underworld wouldn’t let you have powers either.

Be careful! When you get upset, those plants can grow thorns rather than flowers.

“Are you alright? You seem..disturbed.”

“Disturbed?” You came back to the present and raised your eyebrow as if the adjective Jin said was the most illogical word, “I’m fine, just a little confused.”

“Fair enough, but I think I know what book you need.”

You looked at the seemingly never ending shelves and rows of bookcases. The books in here defied time; there were section of ‘past’ books which were finished, ‘present’ books which added a new page and words every time the author wrote in real time, and ‘future’ books which had books with blank pages without titles but the date they would be finished was already printed on the cover. It was magnificent, you could find any book and read it as it was being written, and if you cracked the intense magic that protected the books, you could even read the literature that hadn’t even been written yet.

“Which?”

Jin sighed, running his fingers through his hair and taking one look at the library before fixing on you, “It’s in the past section which is good but the title escapes me, probably having something about godly power or an index of their abilities.”

“Who wrote that?”

“Athena, she’s a bit too enthusiastic when it comes to things like this.”

“..Did you just call Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, a nerd?”

“Well-I mean..am I wrong?”

You laughed loudly, echoing across the long walls and between shelves. Your head tipped back and your arms hugged yourself to keep your frame from shaking. Jin’s ears turned red with embarrassment, for he had no idea why you were laughing so much. To be honest, you couldn’t either. It was just so funny that one of the most formal of gods talked so normally, a happy accident truly.

“It’s alright,” You were still giggled a little bit and by this time Jin was chuckling too, “Let’s go find this book. Split up?”

Jin nodded and went to the right part of the ‘past’ section while you headed over to the left. The two of you looked at the titles of each book but none of the key words or phrases in them matched. The search seemed useless.

Seokjin couldn’t find anything in his section, and even after having several ghost servants to help him— Thanatos showed up for a few minutes too— there was nothing to be found. Deciding that working together or at least being in the same company as you would be more beneficial then the current strategy, he headed to you.

You weren’t having any luck either, but hearing footsteps, your mood turned for the better. After spending some time with your husband, you had realized he had a lot of endearing qualities to him. He always took care of you when you were missing home, opting to bring fake flowers, like the silver one from your first day here, that wouldn’t die but would remind you of your home back in the mortal realm. They were delicate all the same, but you liked holding them and imagining yourself back in those fields.

You missed it, a lot. You missed your mother even more.

But you couldn’t deny that Jin’s company wasn’t delightful. He never made you do anything or feel afraid, his presence was calming and when you were together, the string in your hearts felt connected and alive. The two of you were unfortunately way too shy to admit it but, there was definitely some sort of love between you two. The way your heart soared when looking at each other or laughing at the most unfunny jokes. You hadn’t missed the red ears he had when you complimented him and he definitely didn’t miss your stuttering when he called you loving names in front of his servants or the inevitable mortal or “hero” who wanted something from Jin.

Since gods were not permitted to directly help mortals, often blessed or favored mortals called heroes emerged. They were given unimaginable powers and strength to fight off evil monsters or save villages. Once a man endowed with superhuman musical skills came to the two of you, asking for help. His singing moved the ghost servants and the gray horses that were outside the palace. The two of you were no match either.

“Oh God who rules the dark and silent Underworld,” The man sang with his lyre, tears in his eyes, “I beg you to help me. All lovely things at last go down to you. But I seek one who came to you too soon. The bud was plucked before the flower bloomed. I tried to bear my loss. I could not bear it.”

Seokjin knew that Orpheus was seeking out his wife, Eurydice, and the prominent aspects of love in the song tightened the string in his heart. While Orpheus sang for his dead wife’s revival, he glanced at your face and the refusal suddenly got stuck in his throat.

You looked longingly at Orpheus as his song for Eurydice’s freedom made you feel drowsy and heartbroken. Here was a newlywed couple, both full of joy that they could marry the person of their dreams, but then disaster struck. The woman had unfortunately died on their wedding day and here was her husband, traveling fearlessly through the depths of hell to beg for her back— all for love. A few tears escaped your eyes as the desire to resonate with the man was so strong. You wanted to feel as loved as Eurydice did, wanted someone to love you as strong as Orpheus did for her. Did Hades even know what love meant?

Seokjin could feel your pain, the string that connected your hearts often shared those strong emotions. He liked sharing the happy ones, when you were laughing at something he said or smiling brightly because of his cheesy and old fashioned jokes. Not because you didn’t feel loved. It was breaking his heart to know that you wanted to feel this love and despite his own insecurities of being unlovable, he promised himself that he would love you fully. He would love you as much and more than Orpheus loved his wife, and even more than that. Seokjin felt so heartbroken that you didn’t feel loved already and made it his mission to show you just how much he cared.

“My love is too strong. So I beg of you, King of the Dead,” Orpheus was on his knees and looked at only Jin, “Help me so that I may hold my Eurydice!”

Seokjin raised his eyebrows by the blatant disrespect that Orpheus showed by ignoring you completely. You most likely did not notice it but the clear distinction the man had from you and him was a glaring red flag. But Seokjin could also sense that you were too swept up with the song that you would want to see the couple reunited despite the rudeness.

You put your hands on the hand-rests of your throne to lift yourself up when Seokjin put his hand on yours to stop you. Setting yourself back down, you looked in confusion up to him whose eyes did not stray from the man in front of him. Although Orpheus’s story was tragic, he had heard of many before. As the overseer of the Underworld, his heart had to be hard as steel, and so it was— until you of course. You had softened him by doing practically nothing, but the thought of you continued to melt him. Many mortals had approached Hades to beg for loved ones back and all requests were always refused. No doubt, Orpheus' music was sweet and very moving, but the look in your eyes and tears that dropped down your cheeks were much more convincing; anything to see his wife happy.

Seokjin slowly rubbed your knuckles before finally answering Orpheus, “Your music is ever so moving, but you must know that many couples have begged for their lovers before. I have refused all.”

At the statement, you had gasped and swerved your head to your husband trying to comprehend how someone could refuse so many heartbroken lovers. Orpheus is distraught and close to sobbing harder, dropping his lyre to the ground. But ignoring it all, Seokjin gently chuckles at your expression and strokes your cheek.

“However..” Seokjin starts with a twinkle in his eye.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you ask, “However?”

“To my right side is Persephone, Goddess of the Spring, flora, and fauna. She is my equal, my other half, and the love of my life. Her presence moves me to help you more than your music. For that, I shall grant you your wish of seeing Eurydice again.”

There is that familiar blush Seokjin has witnessed almost everyday, that adorns your cheeks again. Your eyes bulged out at his words and you couldn’t help but lean over to his throne and kiss his cheek in appreciation. He snickers lightly but in reality, his heart almost beat out of his chest. He’s as smitten with you as you are with him. A loveless King had turned sweet for his Queen.

But Orpheus does not seem to care for the intimate words between the two of you. For he seems angry, possibly envious of the love you two share, and resentful that his music that could move rocks on every hillside and turn the course of all rivers was nothing compared to what you could do. The loving look you two shared made him more furious that Eurydice was not beside him at the very instant. Unfortunately, having such wonderful musical abilities often followed with instant compliments and help. For that praise to be lacking from the Gods hurt Orpheus’s pride, and would eventually lead to his demise.

Orpheus snatched his lyre from the floor and said, “My music.. did not move you? I am appalled.”

You tilt your head in confusion, still with a smile on your face you turn to face the man. Seokjin looks at you when you ask, “Appalled? What for?”

“How has a whore been able to influence you, my King?”

At the comment, your smile falters and you see Jin’s eyes light up with the purple fire you saw when you met him. But instead of being a warm, welcoming and even comforting flame, it is chaotic, burning, and seething. He doesn’t need to see your face to see the crestfallen look, but instead whirled around to walk towards Orpheus. Jin’s anger was immeasurable and Orpheus was alarmed at how his eyes seem to flicker brighter with every passing moment. Glowering down at the man, the god was Hades, not the Jin you were used to. His eyes flashed and Orpheus saw every moment in his life up to then and what looked like an older version of himself. Only later would he realize that the God of the Dead had shown him his life in only a few flashes to humble him of his worth and his insignificance.

Realizing that the man may be scorched by your husband’s anger alone, you gracefully walked up to them. Your presence eased Orpheus’s mind for a split second before his eyes flickered back to Jin’s, it was obvious that Jin would not back down. Showing disrespect to you would result in nothing less than banishment to the Mourning Fields of unrequited love for the rest of eternity, or even a trip to Tartarus, the deepest abyss known to all deities.

But he really should have paid more attention to the scowl on your lips.

You spoke with a steely, calm tone, but it reeked of annoyance, “Who are you, a trivial, fleeting thought for me, a Goddess? You are nothing. Mind your tongue and consider yourself lucky that I do not turn you into a corn plant right here.”

After summoning Eurydice with a wave of your hand, you continued, “As you ascend, do not look back as she follows you. Like the explicit disrespect you showed me today, I will take Eurydice away from you.You will lead a desolate and lonely life, as your music will never be heard again.”

Without waiting for a response, you sent the two on your way and sat back down on your throne. Jin sat next to you in utter disbelief and awe of how you commanded respect in the room. He would tease you about it later but it truly showed you how the two of you were so interconnected with one another. Many other challengers would come to try their luck with the softened God, but he didn’t accept all of them— only the ones that you also approved of.

“Hey,” Seokjin started and you only just noticed how dangerously close he was to your face, “Is everything okay? You zoned out for a while.”

Coming back to the present, you realized that you were still in the library trying to find a book to help you with your powers. You had opened one that was clearly not what you were looking for, as the title had something related to (F/G) instead of godly powers. Snapping the book abruptly shut, dust swept up into the air and you coughed up a bit. Seokjin leaned away while you put the book back into its rightful place and tried to clear the air.

You sighed, “I haven’t been able to find anything even remotely related to what we were searching for.”

“It’s alright,” Jin said as he placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort, “I haven’t either. Maybe we should look for a book about you specifically.”

“Me? You think I would be in a book?”

“Well, you are the Goddess of Spring.” He chuckled and patted your head, “Pretty sure that’s important, baby.”

“Did you just call me..?”

“Shit, I didn’t know if nicknames were okay. Are they okay? I’m guessing they’re not okay? Are you not okay with them? Can I call you something else? Should I just stick to Y/N? Or Persephone? Wait, what about Kore? Or is that only reserved—”

You stopped his rambling by grabbing his hand and interlocking them. Looking up to gauge his reaction, you were pleasantly surprised to see that his mouth was upturned and he tried to turn away from your gaze.

“It’s perfectly fine, my love.” With your term of endearment, Jin groaned and shook his head, “Now what should we do next?”

“I call you something cute like baby and you call me my love? Are you trying to open up my wounds?”

“I’m sure your heart will stay intact, what you should be more worried about is your lips!”

“..My lips?!”

You giggled at his star struck expression before you realized that you may have come of as too strong. Deep in thought, you caress his hand with your thumb before grabbing the black feather necklace he’s always worn. It takes Seokjin by surprise and he leans towards you, his face only a few inches from touching yours. His eyes flicker to your lips then back to your eyes and your smile slowly relaxes. He subconsciously licks his lips, and you were so close to just capturing them but you think again.

Did he want you as much as you did?

Seokjin could cut the tension with a knife, and he was going crazy not being able to kiss your lips. He internally groaned because his shy side was poking at him to run away and hide in a corner while the confident side of him wanted to do nothing but kiss you.

God he wanted you, he hoped you did too.

“Can I kiss you, Jin?”

“Please do, you’re going to kill me if you don’t.”

“I think I’ll kill you either way, I’m a pretty good kisser.”

His eyes fluttered closed, and then your lips were on his. Unlike you had imagined— because yes, you had been dreaming for this for a while— he tasted like nothing but everything at the same time. Fireworks and bursts of warmth burned in your hearts and the string in your chest seemed to tie with Jin’s. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he gripped your waist, the both of you wanted to get as close as possible. You let go of each other eventually, and could only stare at each other in awe of what you had done. Glancing at his ears, you immediately grinned seeing them completely red and his flushed expression. Not that you were doing any better, the color tint on your lips was smudged and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. It may have been your first kiss but it definitely would not be your last.

You eventually found the book you were looking for in the first place and Jin would help you control your powers until you could blossom flowers and fruits from the dead seeds he brought when he would go back up. It was a team effort and it definitely earned you some kisses whenever you were successful.

Almost six months had passed since your arrival in the Underworld. After Hades was poisoned, he did not show up to the meetings in Olympus, believing that he knew he was not welcome. Nor would he be able to clearly face Demeter, his mother-in-law, and not absolutely go ballistic. The love for his wife had increased one hundred fold since the last time he saw Demeter and any type of insult to how he cared for her daughter would surely set the deadly side of him off.

But many things happened in the mortal realm. Orpheus looked back at his wife just as the two were leaving the Underworld, and he would live in eternal sadness without his other half. The rest of the mortal realm was not faring well either. While the two newlywed Gods were happy, things like famine, drought, and death plagued mortals. Spring had not come, but was replaced with a harsh, cold winter. Diseases and frostbite was common since Demeter had no intention of changing the season until her daughter was back at her side. Since Hades was not the bringer of Death (Thanatos was), his job was maintaining a record of who died, was alive, and where they would spend their rest of their lives in.

The Fields of Punishment for eternal torture or The Fields of Elysium for rebirth?

The paperwork was clogging up as Hades had renounced his duty and was so lost in his love for his wife, that he only tended to his wife’s needs and taught their three-headed dog Cerberus how to fetch a bone of some unfortunate skeleton than anything else. At one point, your Seokjin had even gifted you a garden full of pomegranate trees, the only real plant that could successfully grow in the Underworld, to you as a sign of his love for you. You were overjoyed by the garden but he had warned you about something, but it all fell on deaf ears.

“You’re kidding..Jin!” You gasped, twirling around and noticing all the blossoming flowers and the vibrant colored plants in your garden.

“It’s for you,” Seokjin looked at you lovingly, seeing you so happy and bright made his heart and face glow too, “An entire garden of pomegranates for you. But be careful alright? They have powers that can make you stay here. So don’t eat them or then—”

“Mhmm.”

“You’ll stay here for that many months and I doubt that your mother—”

“Yeah, yeah, enough talk! Oooh, that one looks pretty.”

Seokjin’s face softened at your giddy expression and he couldn’t help but admire you from afar. But as he realized what your true intentions with the fruit were, he became worried.

“Y/N, wait! Don’t—”

Before Seokjin could finish his sentence, there you were, grabbing a pomegranate that split open with a gentle, magical prod by your finger. You took twelve seeds and threw them into your mouth with a smile on your face. Looking towards Seokjin, or at least where he was last, you saw that his eyes flamed with purple. He looked terrified.

Before you could even bite one of them, Jin was kissing you feverishly. His lips molded against yours and before you could blink, the gentle but insistent press of his hand on your waist made you part your mouth. He slipped his tongue past your own lips and while you were too distracted by the passion behind his actions, he had another thing to worry about. Finally when you parted, both of your lips were stained red with pomegranate juice and were breathing heavily.

Still reeling and drunk on his lips, you only barely noticed his frown and furrowed eyebrows. Jin licked his lips and you blinked slowly before wondering what he could possibly be thinking about. On your end, you definitely enjoyed that heated makeout session, and you were pretty sure his urgency was a good sign.

“Fuck, only got six seeds out,” Jin cursed, before looking at your satisfied expression, “You still ate the other six!”

“Uh, what?” You said lethargically, holding on to Jin’s arms to balance yourself.

“I tried to warn you that pomegranate seeds are dangerous, Y/N! If you had eaten all twelve of the seeds, you would have stayed in the Underworld for all twelve of the months in the year.”

Jin cupped your cheek and sighed, “I tried to kiss you to take them out but I only ate six so you still ate the other six. Now you’ll have to stay with me for half the year.”

“What? That doesn’t sound bad at all! I’m not regretting that kiss because, wow Jin you really know how to kiss someone, but I feel like I should have eaten all of them. What’s so wrong with being bound to you for all eternity?”

Everything, Jin wanted to say. But he could not get his lips to move for the breathless expression you had was too alluring. He stroked your cheek and wished that he could stay by your side but he knew that would not be good. While his ghost servants, Thanatos, and surely all the other Gods in Olympus believed that Seokjin had completely forgotten about his duties, he had not. He was too swept up with the thought of you to do anything about it but he knew that the mortal world was failing.

“It might be safer.”

“Bullshit! I would be much safer, here, with you.”

“I’m the God of the Dead, I doubt your mother wants a son-in-law like me.”

“And? She’s not married to you.”

“My kingdom, it stinks of death. You’ve lived all your life with the beauty of life, are you sure?”

“More than sure, my King. This kingdom is also mine.” You smirked, putting your hands on your hips, waiting for the next thing you would defend.

“The deaths that our love has caused? I’m sure Thanatos has slipped that by now.”

“He has! But what happens to mortals is not our fault, that’s someone else’s fault.”

He knew that. But he also knew that while he was in that poisoned, dying state, you had prayed to Apollo for help. Jin cursed himself for not being stronger so that you would not be indebted to the Hoseok, but he could not change the past. In his own time, Jin had asked Apollo for what you would have to do, and the answer made him scared beyond belief.

“She must go back home, that is her duty.”

“Home? Hoseok..”

“You and I both know that Demeter is mourning for Persephone. Without her daughter, she has put an eternal blanket of winter on the mortal lands. Even Hestia’s hearth in Olympus flickers away at times.”

“She won’t leave, Y/N will be suspicious of my intentions. She’s not some dumb deity that is oblivious to everything around her, she will ask why I am making her do this. I cannot do this.”

“Then lie to her. Tell Persephone that Demeter asks for her or that the mortal world is falling. Or better yet, betray her—”

“I cannot— no, I..I can’t.”

“Please, for the sake of Demeter and the sake of all mortals, force her back. If you must trick her into thinking you don’t..care for her— do it. Even Namjoon has tried convincing Demeter, she won’t budge.”

It was heartbreaking for him to know that Seokjin would have to hurt you like that. But he couldn’t allow himself to go against your duty and responsibility as the bringer of Spring and life. Your mother would not budge without seeing you, it was stated by the Fates too. Maybe if he betrayed you, then you would be safer and wouldn’t be with such a wretched god like himself.

Who was he kidding?

The God of the Dead with the Goddess of Life? It seemed like a cruel joke, especially because of how much he adored you.

Not wanting to worry you, Seokjin kissed your forehead and smiled as best he could. He realized that this might be the last time he could be honest with you, and so took off his black feather necklace and placed it on your neck. You grinned and pecked him on the lips.

“Maybe you’re right, Y/N.”

The Underworld had only one connection to the living world and that was by a boat ride on the River Styx with the reaper of souls. Unless you could play music, then you might be able to charm your way through like Orpheus, but even that was unlikely. In that sense, there are a few ways to get to the underworld but for a normal person, it was impossible.

But you were far from normal.

You were the Queen of the Underworld, Persephone or Y/N, alongside your king, Hades or Seokjin. It was nice having a title to yourself and not Kore, which was just ‘maiden’. It was yours and you loved it.

You couldn’t feel the sunshine on your face, the dewy breeze of a spring morning, the crisp droplets from a rainy night, nor anything else that you usually felt. Only the emptiness from the souls that were reaped, dying to be put back into the world above. But even that beautiful to you, the beauty of death often allured you. The dead stayed dead but even some of them were happy to leave their suffering above.

You wondered why your Jin had taken you for a walk around his palace, he hadn’t spoken a word to you the entire time either. Thinking it was just him being a little distant, you didn’t find anything weird. Seokjin wasn’t the most extroverted so instead of getting caught up with what his silence may have meant, you instead thought about the events that had happened in the last few months. Things had moved so fast, almost as if to compensate for your still life with your mother.

Originally, you had felt that she had done nothing but kept you inside like a prisoner but now you could clearly see why. The way Jin treated you was the biggest indication but you’ve realized your self-worth. You matter to both the mortal world and the Underworld, you’re a powerful Goddess, and you feel lucky that your first love was such a sweet, kind man. Mom wasn’t trying to force you into solitude, but she never trusted any of the Gods in Olympus and that’s why you didn’t even live up there anymore. It wasn’t like she forced you to stay home but the restrictions and ‘protection’ she gave was stifling.

You missed her so much. You missed the sunshine and you missed picking flowers and making flower crowns. You missed feeling the grass underneath your feet and how the Spring would hug your body.

You closed your eyes while taking a large breath in before opening them and smiling, anyone looking at you would have wondered in curiosity or more so horror. Who would smile in the Underworld?

You.

You would, for multiple reasons but mostly because it was more of a home that any place you had lived before. You looked at your bare feet and the black rocks beneath it. They were sharp unlike the grass above, but there was no pain due to the increase in your powers. Having always walked through fields and meadows, you were used to walking without any protection on your feet— though scorned and scolded by your mother.

“Jin, where are you taking me?” You asked at last, giggling a little but your patience running thin.

Seokjin did not answer nor did he move his head in your direction. He kept walking with longer strides, heading to the River Lethe. You had hated that river, a river to make those who touched it forget their memory. You had always expressed your disgust with the concept but Jin usually just laughed at the thought.

“You are the Queen of the Underworld, love.” He said, with a slight smirk on his face.

Jin cradled your chin and looked into your (E/C) eyes with a softness the other gods would’ve laughed and mocked. The god of the Underworld, your Hades, was happy and smiling with such adoration at your face that your cheeks started to heat up. You were a goddess but that didn’t prevent your heart from twisting when he said such sweet words.

He closed his eyes and touched your foreheads together, saying, “You shouldn’t be afraid of it, not when it’s yours.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and reaching out to hold his face in your hands. You weren’t afraid. As long as Jin was there with you.

You remembered the moments that you shared, when you’d be paranoid about your identity and your husband would reassure you that you did have a place in his— our world— he would say. That you were in the right place. A lot of things had happened in the past six months. But none of that could have prepared you for your husband’s next words.

“..You need to leave.”

“What? Seokjin, this isn’t the time to make jokes.”

“I’m serious, leave.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, you felt dizzy, as if the entire world was spinning. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, and then you took a shaky breath in before shaking your head in dismay, smiling to try and fight the large tears in your eyes.

But he continued, “This..isn’t right, your mother was right. We can’t be together.”

Your mother had warned you to not fall for such a man. Yet you had, for a man that you believed loved you back— no he loved you. A few tears rolled down your cheeks and you hurried to brush them away. You walked slowly towards your husband, your bare feet scraping against the dark rocks and your fern green dress trailed behind you.

You held out your hands in a comforting manner, trying to hold your beloved in your arms. In an instant, he shoved them away with his hand, his knuckles scraping against your arms. You winced but held your ground. “What are you saying? My mother was..right? Right about what?”

Jin’s resolve could have broken right there, but he stayed true to what he was told to do. He had to do this quick, or the tears in his eyes would fall and there would be no way to send you away. It hurt every fibre in his body to know that you were hurting because of him.

You looked up to try and find some sort of sign in Jin’s eyes, only to be met with dark purple ones— the very same that burned Orpheus only a few months ago. They looked empty yet were surrounded by that fire you hated.

“She told me this would never work out. And then poisoned me.”

You shook your head again, chuckling softly to yourself, trying to convince that this wasn’t true. You tried to speak confidently, but your voice started to shake after seeing his entire form move away from you.

“Do you truly think I’m so stupid to believe that lie? My mother may be overprotective of me and may have said this wouldn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean you should listen to her! And she would never hurt a God.”

At your words, Seokjin gets uncharacteristically angry at you, “She almost killed me and you defend her? Before me? When I have protected you—”

“Protected me from what?! Orpheus?! I am a Goddess, I do not need your protection!”

“You don’t need my protection?! Then leave! Stay with that mother of yours, even though we both know I’ve shown you more care than she ever will.”

He stated, turning his back to you and chucking the gold ring into the River Lethe. His ashy gray coat that covered his shoulders fell to the ground, at the feet of his dark robes. He didn’t even flinch, a tell-tale sign of him teasing or lying to you.

He wanted to forget you.

“Please,” You reasoned, “don’t send me away for such a stupid argument.”

“You’re right, I won’t be. You’ll leave on your own because you don’t belong here.”

Only then did you break into full sobs, you fell to the ground, clutching your heart in pain. This wet anger made you curse the Fates. Why did you have to be so weak in front of him?

You couldn’t believe it, the one man you had ever loved, threw you away. As if all the kind words, light kisses, and soft touches were worthless. He had lavished you with affection, even in front of disapproving others. From the day he unknowingly rescued you from a hell to now, he had always looked at you like you were his world.

You hadn’t said a word the night you had left with him, too much in shock with your future. But you couldn’t bare to let yourself ask him to take you back.

Anywhere was better than up there.

You had foolishly thought. And during that time you stayed with him. Fell in love. Thinking you would finally get a happy ending, one where the love of your life loved you back.

“Goodbye,” He stated, without looking back at you. All you could see was his tall figure in front of you before you disappeared. He was standing in front of your home. Or what you thought was. But home is where the heart is.

And yours was shattered.

He snapped his fingers and you were gone in a puff of dark black smoke. The feather on the black necklace that he once wore so diligently close to his chest, vanished with you. There was silence in his world for a few moments, after long months of happiness and joy. The flames in his eyes faded, for how could he be angry?

He had just screamed at the one he loved most.

“..Y/N.”

You didn’t see the tears that fell from his eyes without stopping, wetting his cheeks and the ground in front of him. You didn’t see how his shoulders shook with the thought of your absence. You didn’t see him scramble from his hunched position to the River Lethe. You didn’t see him dive in to try and find his ring and realize that it vanished. His legs started to burn from the river’s powers but he stayed in it, thinking that this was nothing to what he deserved. The green cloth ring that you had once put for him, kissing his hand and saying your vows with a happy voice, was still on his finger.

“I’ll stay with you, Seokjin, as long as you want me to. For you are my friend, my companion, and my truest love. I trust you.”

You didn’t see how broken he was when he came back to the palace only to collapse in front of your shared bed and scream until his throat went dry. You didn’t see that his heart was shattered too.

It wasn’t long until you made it back to the meadow, a small walk away from your mother’s palace in the mortal realm. It was dark, and you felt no sun on you. It was a different type of dark, rather than being ominous and mysterious, it held a type of serenity you weren’t ready for. But looking around, you felt empty.

The meadow was covered with some sort of cold, white fluff (snow, you would later find out) that pinched your toes. The once vibrant meadow, filled with plants of different colors and sizes, no longer welcomed you. The soft grass between your toes was now frozen ground and had grown into a long grass that reached your chest.

The world around you was imprisoned in a deafening silence, nothing was awake, nothing sang. The nightingales and woodpeckers were silent, there was nothing. It felt like the world above had stopped living the moment you left. Gashing winds had stripped the once bright green leaves from the trees, leaving them vulnerable and groaning from the cold.

You had never seen such coldness, felt such coldness.

Where am I?

The dark green dress you wore held up well, while the Underworld did not have as the biting cold as you experienced now, it was too similar for you to believe that you had really left there.

The stars twinkled sadly, as if crying out for someone. The moon waned brilliantly and yet everything felt dull. While this world seemed beautiful when you first entered, even though goosebumps had erupted on your limbs, it felt colder than you think it should have. The loneliness you felt was something you had never felt before, nor did you want to. The trees moved as if mourning and you felt like it was your death they were mourning.

Was this why people were dying..?

“..Kore?”

You turned around. Squinting to see the far-away figure, you realized it was your mother with her (H/C) hair in long locks, tumbling down her back— an unusual sight as she hated keeping her hair down— but she was hesitant to come to your side. She was looking at you differently, like she used to when you were a child. Not like how she pretended to when you got older but different. Better.

Like a mother should.

“Mom..” You whispered, but she heard it.

A flowing stream of tears started down Demeter’s face, and she made no move to wipe them away. Demeter held a hand out to her daughter, silently calling out to her. You slowly walked through the field to your mother’s side until finally putting her chin on her mother’s outstretched arm. As you saw your mother’s happy expression, you started to shakily smile and a few of her own tears started to drip down your cheek. Demeter stroked her daughter’s cheek and kissed your forehead in joy.

The mother and daughter were finally reunited.

Quickly after you reunited with your mother, she interlocked your hand and led you back to the palace. Your home. But even saying that had a sour taste in your mouth, because all you could remember was the dark walls and soft smiles of your husband. The walls of your room were just as blindingly white and clean and smooth as you remembered it. But, you remembered what you used to think in the Underworld. As much as you had loved it and the people who came with it, it wasn’t what you were used to. You loved the mortal realm much, much more, and finally seeing the lush vegetation wherever you walked, the pretty flowers sprinkled here and there, the ponds of clear water, and the countless species of animals was both a shock and a blessing.

A few days after you arrived, the winter and snow that had swept through the mortal realm was finally vanquished. Your mother held your hand and simply waved her hand, causing Spring to come back to the world. She was glowing, much more than before you left. You wanted to both strangle her and hug her.

You even asked her about the poisoned dagger and she confirmed what he had said, she did poison him. It made your stomach squeeze and feeling uncharacteristically angry and snappy, you conveyed your concerns to your mother, but she didn’t brush it off like you had feared.

“Mom, I won’t get mad if you tell me the truth.” You sighed out one night.

Demeter raised her eyebrows and laughed merrily, “Oh? This is new Kore, usually I would say that when you were younger!”

Your throat was feeling dry and scratchy but you pressed, “Heh, right, um. Did you.. poison him?”

“Don’t speak of that monster! I—”

“Whether you did or not, please answer me.”

Demeter looked at her only daughter. Her wonderfully talented, intelligent, witty, and beautiful daughter. She couldn’t imagine the emotional manipulation that she went through in the Underworld. Demeter wanted her daughter back and she was afraid of how you changed. That time when you were gone was over.

“Please, Mom.”

Your eyes pleaded and shined in the moonlight and even Demeter couldn’t hold back, “I didn’t have a choice. Even Zeus approved of it, but you have to realize that you were gone.” She poked your chest with your finger and you felt small, like a mouse in the presence of a hawk.

“I didn’t even know where you were and to learn that, the God of the Underworld had taken you..It wasn’t okay and I’m glad that you’re back. That’s all that matters now, don’t worry about it, okay? You’re safe.”

Demeter combed through your hair and smiled at you but her eyes didn’t crinkle up like usual and you knew that she wanted this conversation to be over. But you’d test her limits.

You continued, “But it could’ve killed him, Mom.”

“And?!”

Demeter didn’t miss the flinch at the raise of her tone and she instantly regretted her actions. She didn’t want to be like her siblings, loveless of their children and so enraptured by mortals. But at the same time, she wanted to protect you. Why couldn’t you see that she didn’t want someone like the God of the Dead, an emotional manipulator and kidnapper, to be any of your concern. It tore her heart in two.

“You are the most important part in my life, I used to only live for you. Obviously, that doesn’t mean your life should revolve around me but you were kidnapped!”

“It was Namjoon’s fault though, he told him that we wanted this.”

“You’re right, Zeus is just as punishable for this crime. But if he wanted your hand so much he could have easily come to us formally. Where was the need to capture you like that? None.”

But that wasn’t it either. Sure, you were upset that Seokjin had taken you away. Sure, that seemed logical from your mother’s perspective, realistic. But that’s not what happened. Namjoon was a drunk idiot and had told Seokjin a lie which caused all of this. But even with that figured out, you were still angry that you didn’t see the color black more often or you didn’t have a library full of books to read, or someone that would keep your head in their lap as you slept.

You missed him the most, and that’s why it hurt the most.

No, you repeat to yourself, You aren’t going to be caught down by someone you’ve only known for a few months. You’re better than this, Y/N.

So you busy yourself with other things that need your attention, like the new plants that are popping up in villages. It helps with the loneliness that seems to have taken you captive, even though your mother smothers you with affection. She wanted to celebrate the way you’ve finally come back to her, from that monster.

The new plants seem to have medicinal properties and you keep record of them in a small journal. In the same journal, you’ve been writing down your feelings as a way to cope with the environment changes. You’ve been liking the cool shade and swift breezes that come rather than the blinding sun that you were so used to. You often nestle between a few apricot trees, and would stare blankly at the fruit. It was so close to pomegranates but entirely different. The red color hurt and even the nymphs could see it, often asking you to pluck flowers with them far, far away.

Jimin visits you and the two of you spend an entire day in each other’s company. He talks about how he wasn’t able to visit you in the Underworld and missed you. You find comfort in his words and you confess that you miss Seokjin. Terribly. He’s the only person you have that won’t go to your mother and snitch on you.

“It hurts, Jimin. But I am afraid that you.. will not like what I have to say.”

“What does, Y/N? Don’t be afraid.”

“My heart..it misses him so much.”

Jimin had furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, he couldn’t understand why you would miss such a horrible God. He tried to comfort you about the matter, but it was stiff and rehearsed. When you had cried yourself to sleep that night, Jimin had quietly snuck out of your door only to see Demeter wiping her tears. Your mother had heard your pleas and she broke.

Why did you have to love such a disgusting monster?

Six months have passed and the world has been recovering. You don’t forget the black feather necklace on your neck and almost daily, you rub it to make sure it’s still with you. Your mother had asked what it was and Jimin had saved you before you could stutter out a response, saying he gifted it as nostalgia for being nicknamed pretty bird. Even the rings you had were considered a gift from other gods.

Demeter had looked at you in fear but hid her emotions well enough with a smile that you thought she wouldn’t ask again. She didn’t.

Seokjin couldn’t bear it anymore. Ever since you had left, his heart was heavy with the fact that he had pushed you away. Not even telling you anything and you just had to go.

Thanatos could see that his friend was drowning himself in his work, checking and double checking who were coming into the Underworld. Even Cerberus was ignoring Hades in fear of making him angrier. The dead souls rarely would see their king and while that usually did not worry many, those in Elysium were confused. Sometimes the two of you would visit their houses and get togethers, and even then they could make out his lovestruck expression whenever you talked. He looked at you like you were the moon, made of wonder and beauty, and had painted the stars in his world with small kisses.

Thanatos has gotten angry at Seokjin and forced him out of the palace, locking his office to be extra sure. Walking around aimlessly, everything in the palace reminded him of you. When you would walk next to him and talk about the most useless topics, it was the first time he noticed the sharp rocks on the floor. Instead of creating shoes or anything that a logical God would’ve done, he offered to let you get on his back while you walked. At your shocked expression, he was sure he embarrassed himself more than he thought was possible. But you quickly grinned and jumped onto his back while he held on tight to your legs to keep you steady.

At the memory, Seokjin smiled bitterly and scoffed at the tears that escaped. He wished he was stronger. You were probably going through something a hundred times worse, the love of your life just randomly banishing you must have hurt.

It was to protect her.

Either way, it made him curse out the Fates for even allowing him to meet you once. It wasn’t fair, for either of you. He even cursed his brother Namjoon, he would never listen to his brother again. It wasn’t fair.

The pomegranate trees in front of him made him stop. He wanted to break down in tears and throw his life away for what he had done to you. The brightest red fruit was on the lowest branch, but it was open. With twelve seeds missing, Seokjin shook with fear.

Six months was almost up.

You walked through the meadow, somehow leaving the safety of the nymphs that followed you on Demeter’s request, and brushing through the flowers. You twirled around, feeling free for once. Not in a palace, under someone’s watchful eye or endearing gaze. You loved both of them dearly, but it was hard for Kore, the Goddess of flora, and fauna to be expected to stay in the same place. You felt lost everywhere but here, with nature, was where you felt at peace. There was some substance in what your mother said. Nonetheless, your duty as Persephone, Goddess and Queen of the Underworld, stayed the same. You would have to leave soon, but that made your stomach twist and turn.

While preoccupied with your thoughts, you failed to notice the grass parting behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw something long shoot through the field. You froze, knowing that it was too late to move and your body felt on edge, the feather on your neck started to heat up and become uncomfortable. Another quick movement and—

THUD!

Something grabbed your arms and the intense motion made your eyes squeeze shut. You were shaking, and spots danced behind your eyes. It took you a few moments to realize who had grabbed you, and now shielded, sporting an all-too familiar clothing color palette.

“..Jin,” You whispered breathlessly, “You’re here.”

Worlds away from each other, lifetimes away, or in different versions of reality, Seokjin heard your words as if it burned in his mind, clear as day, your presence bringing him back to life. You could only stare at him as he stroked your cheek, probably because there was some dirt on it because you had fallen asleep on the crumbling soil before walking around.

“I ask you to go away,” He starts calmly, looking at your dumbstruck expression “And you actually left, huh?”

Your growing smile for him saving you quickly falls and you roll your eyes with a hard frown on your lips. You push him away in annoyance and hurt, and walk away from him with your arms crossed. You tried to tamp down your irritation but you were fed up with Gods trying to take your life and just throw it around.

“Why,” You asked, seething with anger, “did you come here?”

You didn’t even turn around but with the way your fists were clenched, Seokjin knew that you were not feeling happy about his presence. Better than utter despair that he had thought of, you hitting and being angry at him was infinitely times better than you being sad.

“That snake wasn’t any ordinary one. I..” Seokjin said slowly, looking back at the dead reptile, “I was cursed by a God once that I wouldn’t be able to protect someone I loved from one of my own. And well, snakes are my sacred animal so..”

“So you think that I needed your protection again?”

Seokjin felt at odds with your response. Of course you could protect yourself, it was just his wish that you didn’t have to. That he could do so instead. He knew you were smarter than you let on, you knew exactly why he had sent you away and were angry why he couldn’t have just communicated it.

“I’m sorry,” He relented, putting a hand on your shoulder before you brush it off, “I was rude and disrespectful. You didn’t deserve that. I thought that you would leave and I was scared what would happen if you didn’t. The mortal world was dying—”

“So? I would’ve come up if you had just told me! It’s really not that hard,” You finally faced him, “especially when you’re supposed to be trying to be everything that my mother thinks you are, you shouldn’t have shouted.”

“Well.. you shouted too.”

“Yeah, to make sure I was heard over your voice!”

“I just wanted to protect you.”

Of course he was. Even when you had snapped at him, he was protecting you. Seokjin had promised you that he always would take care of you, and here he was, doing just that. The more you thought about the day you were forced to leave, you realized that Seokjin had tears in his eyes.

“I know but, there’s better ways to do it.”

Seokjin’s voice wavered with sadness, “I hope that you can forgive me for the stupid things I said. I promise I’ll work harder to show you that I deserve to be your partner and that I can take care of you.”

He was scared, afraid of your reaction and how you might refuse him outright. A figure in the distance, behind Jin, captures your attention and you’re thinking of them while Jin continues.

“I wanted to make your garden a little prettier,” He admitted, his thumb stroking your finger were both the golden ring and your makeshift cloth one was tied together, “I added flowers and different fruits that reminded me of your aura. But much of them are made of jewels since, well, you know, you can’t have live plants in the Underworld.”

“Mhmm, yeah.”

“And that ring I tossed into the River Lethe,” Your ears naturally perked up at the river’s mention, “was my ring and I found it just as soon as you left. I would never mean those things I said and I’m sorry you had to hear them.”

“Right, well,” Your eyes shined with excitement and giddy, “My mother is coming, so you better be able to convince her.” You quickly removed your hand from his before your mother burst in.

Oh shit.

“So you’re saying,” Demeter’s eyes burned into Seokjin and he could feel his mind turning to shreds at her words, “ you want my daughter to go back with you into that wretched palace?! She won’t return as long as I’m her mother and she has no obligation to leave. Kore will stay here.”

“Persephone is the Queen of the Underworld,” Seokjin looked at you tenderly, “it’s her duty now.”

You cringed at his wording, that was not the way to convince your mother. If anything, talking about duty would bring up the fact that she’s the Goddess of vegetation in the mortal realm. And mentioning her other name? Total loss.

“Do not defy my Hades. She will not leave my realm.”

You butted in, “I ate the pomegranate seeds, Mother.”

“You— what?” Her fiery anger dissipated into a tame flame, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, “No, no. You,” She pointed straight to Seokjin, “You did this, didn’t you? Tricked her into eating the flirt of the Underworld to where she must leave me, her own mother for you? A lying cheat and disgusting, dishonorable coward!”

“I am no coward. I warned her and she said she wanted to,” He interlocked your hands and it made Demeter angrier, “She won’t be away for long. Only half of the year.”

“Half of the year?!” She moved towards Seokjin at a pace that even made him panic, “If you want my daughter’s hand, then propose to her properly. If she accepts, fine. She’s her own person and she had the right to choose her partner. But if she doesn’t, I will make sure your life is living hell.”

Kinda already is, Seokjin wanted to sarcastically comment but kept his mouth shut. But he reasoned that this was the best he was going to get. He turned to you and saw your wide smile and twinkling eyes. To him, you were the only person he needed. If he must, he would scourge the four realms and more to find you and even just hold your hand. With you, he had nothing to worry about.

So the two of you got “engaged” and you reapplied rings (different ones because your mother wanted you to have only the best) at the very place your mother met Seokjin. He summoned the most beautiful of jewels to make the rings and many other riches when he saw how Demeter’s eyes bulged and gravitated towards the power. She was warming up to him alright.

The night before you would leave, you held a celebration— the wedding— in a small gazebo that your friend Chan, or Hephaestus, happily built for you. He started crying in the middle of building it because his own partner, Yoongi or Aphrodite, seemed to have no interest in doing the same— but another story for another time!

Celebrating with your nymphs and other Olympian Gods and Goddesses that you had befriended long ago, it was a magical experience. You saw Jungkook, or Hera, and his husband Namjoon, or Zeus, arguing animatedly in the gazebo that you had proclaimed your love for each other earlier in the evening, something about how Namjoon never made any romantic gestures for him. In another place you saw Yoongi and Hoseok, or Apollo, sharing drinks with each other while Jimin, or Hermes, was flying around trying to meet everyone. Even Seokjin, basically the God of Shyness, was smiling and accepting praise from Irene, Wheein, and Taehyung, or Ares, Athena, and Hebe respectively.

You casually walked around, the rich purple wedding gown that you wore dragged through the grass but stayed dried, magical powers were always nice. Talking with some people, drinking and eating with others, it was wonderful. At the end of the night, Demeter came up to the two of you with flower crowns, and all the Gods watched with curiosity, except you and your mother of you knew what was to come next. The crowns were beautiful and matched your auras perfectly. One made with pink lilies, purple lavender, and white baby breath, while the other was made of cress, ferns, black and purple roses. The lighter one was for you and the darker for Seokjin.

“It’s tradition,” Demeter’s voice wavered with sadness and her hands trembled as she continued, “When a nymph is married and leaves my care, she is given a crown to remind her roots and to be happy in her new life.”

Demeter turned to you, the tears in her eyes finally came pouring out and she tried her best to allow this day to be a happy day. You looked ethereal in your dress and your expression made everything she had sacrificed worth it. Cupping your cheeks, she lovingly gazed at you and put your heads together. Your own tears were coming down and you held back a sob.

“Be powerful and strong, my Kore. If anything happens, I will always be waiting here for you and you can come back, alright? It is your duty in the next six months to take care of the Underworld, rule it with a wise mind and even sharper mouth. Many will test you but prove them wrong. Your husband’s duty is to take care of you, you are equals in love. Never forget my teachings and that I have and will always love you.”

You kneeled down to your mother and touched her feet in a sign of respect, and she crowned you with all the flowers you loved most. Standing up, you saw Demeter’s eyes stare at your husband. She looked neither happy nor angry, and everyone in the room held their breath.

“It is your duty,” She started as she firmly grasped the other crown, “to protect and take care of my daughter. She rules beside you as equals and you must treat her as such. When you are troubled, find peace in the fact that she can calm the ground we walk on from rumbling, a panther from pouncing, and my very nature. After seeing your love and hearing about it from Kore, I trust you and bless you to be a good King for the Underworld and a better husband to your Queen. You are part of my family now, Hades.”

Demeter looked pleased at how her heartwarming words touched Seokjin and made him weep as well. Maybe it was her own power, because all the deities present were desperately wiping their tears so others couldn’t see. Even Jimin, both known to be lighthearted and not as sentimental, had burst into tears when he saw his best friend crying and getting crowned while Taehyung tried to soothe him.

Seokjin kneeled and did the same as you when Demeter crowned him. Seokjin mouthed a ‘thank you’ to his mother-in-law and held out his hand for you to grab. You smiled and interlocked your fingers together before looking at your mother and then the rest of your guests.

“All hail, Persephone and Hades,” Your mother continued, “The Gods and rulers of the Underworld!”

The other gods and deities, and even nature itself seemed to bow down. But the two of you were so immersed in each other, that you only waved goodbye before Jin kissed you and the ground broke beneath you and went home.

#seokjin fics #bts fics #bts x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #kim seokjin #seokjin x reader #hades x persephone #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagines #greek god au #hades! jin x persephone! reader #hades! bts x persephone! reader #bts fanfic #my writing #i'm so proud of this #proud of myself!!

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//general dating headcannons//

Characters: Daishou Suguru/ Kita Shinsuke/ Yamaguchi Tadashi

Warnings: i don’t think any??

Word Count: 2K (~650 a piece)

Notes: i am soft for kita shinsuke. that is all.

Daishou Suguru

He’s a top tier boyfriend and no one is allowed to tell me otherwise

He is a first-class WEENIE for his s/o and would genuinely do anything for them

But noooo y’all hate him smh

Daishou is the kind of person who puts every important date of your relationship in his phone. He is never missing your anniversary or your birthday or any other important relationship dates.

He’s a good morning/good night texter too. I know that everyone thinks he’s an asshole, but after being broken up with for focusing too much on a club, he doesn’t want you to feel like he only cares about volleyball. If he’s going to be busy for a few hours, he’s going to tell you so you don’t think he’s just flat out ignoring you

I promise, he will let you do anything to him if you just ask. Want to try to curl his hair? Cool, just please don’t burn him. You want to pluck his eyebrows? Go ahead. He doesn’t mind. Did you see this really cute nail design that you want to try? Suguru already has his hand held out towards you so you can practice.

He’s not telling anyone that he does all of this so willingly though. He has to maintain some essence of coolness

Literally the whole volleyball team knows that he’s a total simp, so idk who the hell he thinks he’s hiding it from

His love language is quality time, so as long as he’s with you, he’s perfectly content. Daishou will happily just sit next to you for hours, sending each other memes or stupid tiktoks.

When it comes to actually going out on dates, he’s really simple. He likes picnics in the park or taking hikes or going stargazing. It feels very intimate to him and allows a certain degree of vulnerability that can’t be found anywhere else.

You guys went stargazing on your first date and he brought you flowers and the two of you shared snacks it was all very cute and there was no way that you weren’t going to go on a second date with him

Speaking of flowers-

One time you made him mad over something really stupid and he brought you some flowers as a partial apology for him being overdramatic, but the card just said “fuck you” in really pretty lettering, but there was a really small, “but also, I love you” on the other side.

The two of you pick up random hobbies together? For no other reason than the two of you spend an awful lot of time just sitting at each other's house? So, you decided to do something other than just sit on your phones for h o u r s

You’ve made those giant arm-knitted blankets together. One time, you tried to make soap, but it didn’t smell good so that hobby got scrapped. You’ve tried to learn how to roller skate together, but Daishou almost broke his arm so you thought maybe something less dangerous like puzzles. But, those got old really fast.

Please for the love of god run your hand over his arms. He will be putty in your hands. He loves it so much.

Better yet? Put your hands on his biceps when he kisses you and he’s a happy boy. His arms are the feature that he’s most proud of, so knowing that you like them too is a big boost to his ego.

He has two main nicknames for you smh. When he’s teasing or just being a little shit, he calls you sweetheart. If he actually wants to be affectionate, Daishou calls you babygirl.

He’ll pull you into his lap and pepper your face in kisses while telling you, “I love you, babygirl, you know that?”

If you call him ‘Sugu’ or just ‘ru’ he may actually die right there. It just plucks something in his heart that sends him to cloud-9.

Suguru really is a fantastic boyfriend who just wants you to be happy ;-; He wants you to smile and laugh and be comfortable around him, because he’s here for the long-haul. When Daishou falls in love, he falls hard

Kita Shinsuke

An absolute sweetheart

He’s going to take care of you so good

Kita for sure walked straight up to you and asked you on a date. He gave zero fucks. Nerves? Kita has never heard of them before. If you reject him, you reject him. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.

You met his grandmother really early into the relationship because she’s really important to Kita, so he needed to know that she approved of you before fully committing to a relationship with you.

But, I promise, she loves you and now that Kita is finally dating someone, she’s going to pester him about wedding plans once he comes home from your date. She doesn’t care that this is only the second date. She wants to see her grandson married.

Kita genuinely loves domestic life? Please please please come over and cook with him. If you offer to help him with the dishes, he may propose right there. Okay not literally but you know what i mean. Come over on Saturdays for laundry and gardening.

I should mention that dating Kita isn’t always chores and housework, but even when it is, it really doesn’t feel like it? The two of you joke around, definitely throwing dirt at one another while you’re pulling weeds in the garden or flicking water at him while doing the dishes.

He’s an “acts of service” kind of person. Little things like having your favorite snacks in the cabinets for when you come over or turning the heat up before you get there so it’ll be warm because he knows you get gold. You left your math binder at his house once, so he took the time to put all of the loose papers where he knew you would’ve wanted them.

If you’re a person who gets periods, he has pads and extra painkillers stocked in the bathroom cabinet.

Please note that Kita has zero shame in buying you period products. You need tampons? Okay. What size and what brand? Do you want anything else? He can get some snacks while he’s at the store too. You can say no and he’s going to pick up a package of pizza rolls anyway. He knows you well enough that you’ll say no, but only tell him that you're hungry the minute he gets home. He’s played this game before. He knows.

It makes his grandmother so proud, seeing him love and care so wholeheartedly for another person that isn’t related to him. She just knows that he’ll make an excellent husband to you one day

She cares about you just as much as he does. Kita mentioned that you weren’t feeling well once, and she packed up a bunch of leftovers and some tea for him to take over to you, pretty much telling him not to come back until you were feeling well again.

Kita doesn’t beat around the bush, so if he has something he wants to tell you, he’s just going to say it. Communication is really important to him and he believes that it’s the key to a healthy and happy relationship.

But, because of this, it took him a while to say I love you. He didn’t want to just say it, you know? He wanted to genuinely mean it. He believes that that phrase gets tossed around too easily. So, it was a few months before he actually said it, but you knew that he was serious when he did.

He likes to kiss the top of your head. If you’re tall, he enjoys kisses to your temple just as much.

I 10/10 recommend a Kita. He would love you wholeheartedly and, don’t tell his grandmother, he really does want to spend the rest of his life with you.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Another absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend oml

But, I promise that you’re probably going to have to make the first move if you want anything to come from this.

He’s just so shy and nervous when talking to people that he finds cute ;-;

Although, there is a chance that Tsukishima told him to get over himself and just ask you out.

“It’s not that big of a deal. If they say no, you move on.”

Shut up, Tsukki.

Yamaguchi really likes to hold your hand. It’s really grounding for him, so if he’s ever starting to get panicked, he’ll reach for your hand.

Before every game, he has to hold your hand and he’ll squeeze it three times before he has to go. So, if he starts to panic during the game, he has a fresh memory of the feeling of your hand in his.

Yamaguchi lets you wear his jacket during games ;-; He didn’t even think about it as something to show you off as his, he was just worried that you might get chilly in the stands, so he offered for you to take it.

But, now he’s obsessed with how cute you look with his jacket around your shoulders that he’s letting you hold onto it whenever he gets the opportunity.

Study dates study dates study dates

The two of you will either go to a cafe or a library and claim a table and just hang out and do homework together. If you’re struggling with something, he’ll walk you through it. He moved his chair close to yours so that your knees just barely brushed against one another.

He loves to bring you little gifts. If he sees something in a shop that reminds him of you or if he thinks you might like it, he’ll buy it and give it to you the next time he sees you.

He usually doesn’t like nicknames? He'd rather just be called by his actual name, but something about you calling him ‘dashi’ just feels right and he really likes it.

Tadashi has a lot of insecurities, especially in the start of your relationship with him. He doesn’t understand why you’re so willing to be with him?? He’s just a bundle of nerves and he’s convinced that you could do so much better than him, but yet you still stay with him?

It took him a really long time to get comfortable with the idea of being in a relationship and realize that you weren’t going to just dump him because you really got to know him, but when he does get comfortable, it’s like he’s a totally new person. His nervous laughter actually becomes more full and free and he smiles a lot wider. He isn’t afraid to tease you and he’s a lot more open about his emotions.

Tsukki is the first one to really notice just how good you are for Yamaguchi. Tadashi isn’t super open with anyone but him, at least, until you came along and gave Tadashi another person that he could connect with and feel comfortable around.

Tadashi loves it when you play with the hair at the base of his neck. It feels so comforting and he would love to just fall asleep right there with your fingers in his hair. Everytime you play with his hair, his head immediately goes to your shoulder and he’ll wrap his arms around your midsection and tell you that he loves you.

You will never go a day without Tadashi telling you that he loves you and that you’re absolutely incredible. He finds something to compliment you on every single day because he just wants you to know that you’re loved and, while yes, he does find you absolutely beautiful, sometimes it’s nice to be complimented on things other than physical appearance and that’s where Yamaguchi really shines.

{Taglist: @moncymonce @nicka-nell @celosiiaa @lovinnoya and my fellow daishou suguru simp @kuronekomama}

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novelconcepts · 4 years

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fic: souvenirs you never lose

prompt, for @karatam: five scars Dani found on Jamie’s body (and one she left behind on her heart)

It takes Jamie time, to open up. This does not surprise Dani in the least; the Jamie she met at Bly wasn’t the sort to show off--not her innermost secrets, and certainly not her body. Even innocuous bits, elbows and forearms and collarbones, were covered half the time in thick jackets and jumpsuits. She didn’t see Jamie’s knees for the first time until they slept together.

It feels less like Jamie is hiding something, and more like Jamie appreciates a certain barrier between her body and the rest of the world. Dani can respect that. Knows the value of armor, of a good sweater and pounds of hairspray and the effort to be seen only as you choose. And what Jamie chooses, mostly, is to be seen as the job. As soil under fingernails, as hair messy around her face, as small hoop earrings and old t-shirts and overalls. Jamie doesn’t much put in the effort, because she’s busy channeling all of that effort into more important things. Dani likes this about her.

Still, for the first month or two, she doesn’t see much of Jamie’s bare skin. Maybe because Jamie is still working out the angles of their relationship in her head, easing in gently even as she’s taking enormous leaps of faith on little more than Dani’s word. Maybe because they’re leaving England (where, even in summer, a chill holds dominion over most nights) for Vermont (where, by the time they arrive, fall is chipping away at what remains of the year). Either way, for a while, Dani thinks Jamie is hiding in baggy sweaters and loose jeans because it’s just Jamie.

It isn’t until they’re in bed in a hotel in Pennsylvania that she thinks for the first time: maybe it’s about something else. Maybe it’s about the lives Jamie lived before meeting her. Maybe there are some boxes Jamie holds close to her chest, will need time to unlock.

Dani can be patient.

“It was a pot,” Jamie says, like that’s the whole of the story, but a story is never so simple or so short as that. In fact, it was not just a pot, not just water, not just a child left to raise a baby like she’d ever be prepared for something like this.

Jamie, maybe eight years old--she has trouble thinking back this far, has trouble remembering anything from this time with an adult’s clarity--stands as tall as her meager height allows whenever she’s in this house. Shoulders thrown back, chin up, the way she’d seen her mum in shops. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it land. Just keep your chin up, eyes forward, and keep walking.

Jamie, maybe eight years old, with hair that hasn’t been trimmed in months and hand-me-down trousers from Denny, who scuffed his shoes and scowled and said nothing, because what could he do about it? Denny, who keeps his distance, who hasn’t had a kind word for her since she can’t remember when. Jamie tries not to mind. Tries to understand, with an eight-year-old comprehension of human instinct, why her big brother is so determined to shut her out.

They call her mum things in the street, and maybe that’s why she left. Maybe sticks and stones aren’t all that can tear you up, in the end. Jamie’s had her share of both, has limped home and mopped up tattered knees and scraped cheeks more than she likes to recall, but maybe words can do the same kind of damage if there are enough of them all bound up together.

Or maybe she left because Jamie wasn’t big enough to wrap her arms around all the little aches her mum was made up of. Maybe because Denny turns up his nose at anything he doesn’t like, and Mikey screams all day, and Jamie--sandwiched between them with no way out--is just too small.

She’s trying. She’s trying so hard. Mum’s gone, and she hasn’t seen Dad in...what’s it been now, days? A week? She’s losing track fast. Losing track of a lot of things, really. She’s falling asleep draped over her desk, sneakers dangling off the floor, waking to wadded up chunks of paper drenched in someone else’s spit clinging to her neck and hair. Her homework, when it gets done at all, usually gets stolen out of her bag and shredded before she can turn it in. She’s starting to hear the whispers at night, falling asleep with one eye open, one arm wrapped around Mikey’s tiny frame: Whore. Cunt. Your mum’s a--

She doesn't even know what these words mean, but they live beneath her skin like razor blades, and she is so small, and so tired, and only eight, only eight, only--

The day the pot goes over, she knows. Something prickles at the back of her neck like a bad itch, like a bug bite, like the worst kind of déjà vu. She’s got Mikey in one arm, bouncing him up and down the way he likes, and the other hand is trying to stir pasta. It’s one of the only things she knows how to make, and Mikey probably should have something more, something better--baby food, or fruit, or something--but Dad’s been gone for maybe-days, maybe-weeks, and Jamie hasn’t figured out how she’s going to buy groceries yet. Problem for another day, she keeps thinking, the idea growing more fringed and frazzled by the hour.

She’s standing on a chair, baby in one arm, stirring, and it wouldn’t have happened if only she were bigger. It wouldn’t happen if only she could stand taller, if only she didn't need to climb on things to reach, if only she had been able to sleep last night under all Mikey’s whimpers and Denny kicking the wall they share and the hisses of whore, your mum’s a dirty whore reverberating through her head.

She’s swaying, bouncing Mikey up and down, up and down, and then she’s swaying too far. Too far to the left, too far to correct, and before she knows it, gravity’s got her in a headlock. She pitches sideways, the chair skidding out from under her with a squeal on linoleum, and Mikey is already bawling. Even before her stirring arm yanks the pot. Even before the water sloshes over, all bubbles and steam and Jamie distantly realizes she is shrieking. Her right shoulder comes up in a protective shroud around her little brother, taking as much of the splash as she can stand, and her shirt is pasted to her skin, pasted and bubbling and Jamie hadn’t known anything in the whole world could hurt as much as listening to Mikey screech from against her chest.

“Just a mistake,” she says, yawning in a dimly-lit hotel room. “Just a mistake that a little kid makes on too little sleep and too much responsibility. It’s okay.”

Dani, fingers tracing the edges of raised skin, watches her. Jamie’s head is turned away, her body tucked into the space where Dani suspects she’s always sort of been waiting for someone to lay. Jamie is bunched up tight in the too-high AC, her knees pulled up to her chest, her hand holding gently to the arm Dani has draped loosely over her waist. She feels small in Dani’s arms, which is strange, because Jamie always feels like she takes up so much space in the world. Brass bells on her laugh, brass tacks in her smile, walking like she was told one too many times to sit down and her only response was to flash the finger.

Dani sometimes wishes she could walk like Jamie does. Breathe like Jamie does. The closest she comes to it are nights like this, pressed close in a bed barely bigger than a twin, Jamie speaking slowly, tiredly, to the opposite wall.

“You protected him,” Dani says softly. She doesn’t so much like the feel of the scar under the pad of her finger as she does the sensation of Jamie breathing beneath her hand. Jamie, exhausted from a long day on the road, still pressing backward into her like she can never get close enough.

“Had to,” Jamie says sleepily. “Was so little.”

Dani gets that, understands what it is to hold something small and precious and innocent, and know the world doesn’t care about any of it. The world doesn’t want to keep small, soft things safe. The world just barrels on, riding its own track, and damned be the rest of them.

She bends her head, presses her lips to the top of Jamie’s shoulder, waits for permission. Jamie exhales, leans her head back.

“Go on, then.”

She smiles against the soft slope of Jamie, of the lightly freckled skin where no secret memories lurk, and drops a kiss right on the edge of the scar. Jamie doesn’t move, doesn’t push her away, just breathes lightly in and out as Dani explores the spot where a child’s error in judgment left a permanent brand. She traces the map of it with soft lips, careful not to do anything that might cause Jamie unease, careful to simply embrace this part of a woman who pretends it was just a pot because it’s easier than admitting the rest. How much guilt she must have carried for years after. How much it had hurt in ways that have nothing to do with searing burns.

Her hand tightens across Jamie’s stomach, pulling her reflexively closer, and Jamie arches her back. Her breath is coming a little quicker now, her laugh deep in the shadows cast by one tiny lamp.

“S’just a scar,” she says, and turns in Dani’s arms to kiss her lips. “Just a scar, Poppins. S’all right.”

A few months go by, Christmas stumbling past with all the grace of a young puppy, the winter months unspooling after in its wake. Eventually, the world begins to wake again. The days warm, the sun casting its light on a new apartment, and Jamie--for the first time since Dani’s known her--is wearing shorts.

“You’ve never told me about this one,” Dani says, seated on the floor of the living room, surrounded by clean laundry. Jamie is on the couch, legs dangling on either side of Dani’s shoulders, a book propped gently against Dani’s hair.

“Which?” she asks absently, flipping the page. Dani shakes the book away, pressing her thumb lightly to a spot high on Jamie’s right inner thigh. Jamie sucks in a showy breath. “Gettin’ a bit handsy there for all that laundry, Poppins.”

“One,” Dani says, “you can get down here and help me fold. Or two, you can tell me about this one.”

Jamie tosses the book aside, leaning over to look. “Ah. That. Was just a bad jump.”

Dani can tell right away that this is like the burn, that nothing with Jamie’s past was ever just anything. She rests her head against Jamie’s knee, gazing up at her, waiting.

Jamie doesn’t advertise it or anything, doesn’t think anyone really needs to know, but she’s always been a good runner. Had to be, when she was little, when the other kids were big and strong and the only thing standing between her and a busted lip was to take off like the wind at the first sight of them. Had to be even more in foster care, when quick thinking and quicker legs were maybe the only chance she had at a peaceful evening.

She’s not much to look at, seventeen and gangly, hips still figuring themselves out and legs prone to tangling when she’s tired. But, oh, can Jamie run.

She’s running now, in fact. Running like all the world’s vices have her number and are ringing her up, and it feels good to move like this. Arms pumping, chest expanding and contracting around heaving breaths, eyes wild. A woman dives out of her way, almost upending her shopping cart, and Jamie laughs like she’s got the breath to spare.

It would all be better, maybe, if she didn’t have the goddamn police on her tail.

If she didn’t have a rather damning piece of fine silver tucked up under her shirt.

If she could be sure why she was doing this in the first place.

But no matter. No worries at all. It’s just pavement beneath her battered old work boots, just the breeze tearing at her hair and the dirty glares of complete strangers, and Jamie thinks, Yeah, you wish you could move like this. You wish you had the fucking freedom.

Hands, catching at her jacket tails. Big hands, broad-palmed and nasty, and if they close over anything that counts, she knows she’s done for. Knows this is the price of living free: sometimes, you’re free to make choices that get you run down. Not that she cares. Not that she minds it in the least. So long as she can run like this, Jamie figures she can go just about goddamn anywhere.

She shrugs the groping hands away, hears one of the uniformed men swear as she bolts left down an alley. She knows this street like the back of her hand, knows if she can just get to the end and up over the gate, she’s home free. The cops are older, bigger, slower to swing around such a tight corner, and Jamie’s leap takes her halfway up the chain link before she even has to start her mad scramble.

She’s all seeking hands and desperate boots, gasping around the burn in her lungs where a fresh smoking habit is not doing her endurance any favors, and she’s laughing still. Even as she goes over, even as she feels something barbed catch along her inner thigh and tear, she’s laughing. Blood, spilling hot down the leg of her jeans, soaking black into the faded denim. Still, she throws her head back and brays insane laughter toward the sun.

She’s still laughing when she rounds the corner and slams straight into the barrel chest of a beat cop. Not the grabby one; he’s still puffing his way over the fence behind her. This one has mean eyes and a shark’s grin, and when his hand closes over her forearm, all the laughter seventeen years can produce goes rotten in her chest.

“That,” the cop says, “doesn’t belong to you.”

Jamie, lungs heaving, silver hot against her belly, feels the shredded skin of her thigh pull tight, and winces.

“Went in not long after,” she says, shrugging and resting a hand lightly atop Dani’s hair. “Stayed in nearly five years.”

She says it like everything’s okay, like it doesn’t hurt to remember a teenage girl who felt her only recourse from the world was to steal from it. Dani shifts, pulling Jamie’s leg higher on her shoulder, and kisses the jagged remnants of the day Jamie saw her freedom stuffed into a cage.

“Honest,” Jamie breathes, watching her with eyes gone dark with some mix of desire and memory. “It didn’t even hurt all that much.”

She’s lying, Dani can tell; Jamie’s a terrible liar, so bad at it that she rarely bothers. She holds Jamie’s gaze, feels the uncomfortably sharp edge of the scar against the soft skin of her lower lip. Jamie’s brow pulls like she’s warding off something dangerously akin to shame.

“I did it because,” she says, and Dani kisses the spot a little harder, shifting to her knees on the carpet. Jamie swallows hard, leaning back against the cushions. “Dani, I was...”

Don’t, Dani thinks. Don’t say my name like you’re confessing something. She presses her face against the hot skin of Jamie’s thigh, tries to imagine being young and desperate and foolish. It isn’t so hard to do.

“You were just a kid,” she says, muffled. Jamie rests a hand lightly on the back of her head, giving her permission. “Just a kid running from so much.”

“It was stupid,” Jamie says thickly. “I was--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dani says, so fiercely she surprises herself. “Doesn’t matter who you were at seventeen, Jamie. Do you have any idea how stupid I was at seventeen?”

They could go back and forth all day--Jamie’s mistakes stripping her of five years of freedom, Dani’s nearly stripping her of a lifetime. They could, but Jamie is looking at her with such love in her eyes that Dani knows it isn’t the time. It just doesn’t matter, not as much as this place and Jamie’s smile and knowing they're both who they need to be for one another, regardless of the past.

Her hands are moving toward the zipper of Jamie’s shorts, her mouth light and gentle on Jamie’s skin, and they don’t talk about the scar again. Even with Jamie moving her hips restlessly, even with Dani’s tongue teasing and tasting, even as Jamie grasps her by the hair and makes the most wonderful sounds above her, Dani keeps her thumb pressed gently into that spot. Reclaiming it, in a way. Giving Jamie a dose of what it feels like to fly, to forget all her mistakes, to know only what it is to be loved.

She likes to think she knows Jamie’s body pretty well by the time she finds the third scar. They’ve been together three years--three years of blessed, shocking serenity, and Dani feels good. Has felt good for so long, in fact, she’s almost forgotten anything else.

That always feels a little like rattling the bars of some enormous cage, like taunting something huge and bestial she still can’t make out among the trees. Still. It’s no less true.

They’re in the kitchen, of all places, when she notices it. Jamie’s shirt has ridden up as she stretches to retrieve a plate from the cupboard, and there--just under the strap of her bra--a mark Dani’s never really registered before along her ribs. It’s a small thing, a puckered spot smaller than the nail on her pinky.

“What’s that from?”

Jamie twists awkwardly, trying to look under her raised arm. “Ah...bit of a mishap with a sharp implement.”

“At the shop?” Dani frowns, trying to imagine what kind of barbed plant it would take to skewer Jamie in such a way. Trying, too, to imagine what would keep Jamie from sheepishly showing her the same night, allowing Dani to patch her with rubbing alcohol, bandages, a long kiss.

“Uh, no, actually. Inside.” Plate recovered, Jamie drops back down and tries to sidle around Dani toward the stove. Dani raises an eyebrow.

“Inside like in prison?”

“Just about the only place I can think of gets described as such,” Jamie says lightly. Dani jabs her gently in the shoulder.

“So, how’d this one happen?”

“Accidentally.”

Her voice is too light. She’s doing a little dance back and forth, trying to pass Dani, who finally relents.

“You got accidentally stabbed. In prison.”

Jamie sighs. “I suppose you’ll want this tale, too, mm?”

Dani gives her a look, half-exasperation, half-deeply entertained. A well, yes, Jamie, if it isn’t too much hassle to clarify the time you got shanked in prison look. She hadn’t even known she had a look like that, but bless Jamie: always teaching her new things about herself.

It’s not as bad as it seemed at first, Jamie learns quickly. Prison isn’t a picnic by any stretch, but for the most part, the other women leave her be. Maybe it’s something about the way she walks, a trick picked up before she was even into her teens: a good healthy swagger keeps at least the lowest-tier assholes at bay. Walk like you know what you’re doing, walk like you own the place, people are often less likely to take interest. Self-preservation’s a hell of a thing, especially in a place like this.

She doesn’t make friends, exactly, and maybe that’s for the best. The last friends Jamie made all had too-pretty eyes, too-quick smiles, hands that could produce a knife or the wallet out of your pocket with equal glee. She’d fallen in with them in all the wrong ways, these girls who knew too much of the world and were all too willing to share it with a gutter rat who kissed like it was the only thing worth doing, so long as no one went talking about it later.

Prison feels like that life magnified to its highest order. Still some pretty eyes, still some too-quick smiles in here, but no one Jamie feels secure even chatting up for long. Everybody in here is in for a reason. Some reasons less justifiable than others, maybe, but still.

Still, there is one girl. Jamie’s been in for maybe two years, maybe three--gets hard to keep track, after a while--when this one arrives. Fresh meat, as the worst of the women say. Walk says she’s been around the block, but Jamie’s fair certain she can’t be older than Jamie herself was upon arrival. Just a kid.

Kids make bad choices sometimes, she knows better than anyone. It isn’t her problem.

Even so, she finds herself trailing along in the kid’s wake. Keeping an eye out. Kids who walk like that sometimes get skipped over--Jamie did, after all, but Jamie also knew when to say when. Head up, mouth shut. The back half of that plan is crucial to survival.

This kid doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Every time Jamie comes around a corner, it seems like she’s walking in on another bag of bullshit. The kid, always picking fights with women bigger, or crueler, or more capable than she is. By the time Jamie realizes it, she’s taken to talking these women down. An extra pack of cigarettes in exchange for letting the girl live to see another day. A shift in the garden traded for a shift doing laundry. The women grudgingly accept Jamie as one of the level-headed among them, even if they don’t particularly love her for it.

Not my problem, Jamie thinks each time she sees the girl raise hackles, and each time, she finds herself making it her problem anyway. Stupid. But maybe if she’d had someone in her corner, someone watching her back...

She’s been cleaning up after this kid’s messes for about three weeks when it happens. Jamie’s just minding her business, just walking around the yard, and suddenly...there’s pain. A weird, blazing, hooked-talon pain radiating up through her side.

Pain, and the bared teeth of a teenage girl.

“You keep the fuck out of my business,” she hisses, brandishing the sharpened bit of what Jamie’s pretty sure was once a toothbrush. “Hear me? Fuck out of it.”

Jamie, hand clapped around a small puncture in her jumpsuit, pulls her palm away streaked with red. She raises her eyebrows. “Clear as day.”

She doesn’t see the girl again. Doesn’t question it. Can’t bring herself to wonder if it was a transfer or something else altogether. All Jamie knows is, this is what comes of sticking your nose into other people’s shit.

“Wasn’t my finest hour,” she says, checking that the chicken in the oven isn’t actually on fire. “Just left me feeling dumb, really. Imagine getting poked by a goddamn toothbrush.”

“You said it was an accident,” Dani points out. Jamie sighs, opens the fridge, closes it again.

“It was. Wasn’t meant for me, not really. I just happened to be there. She would’ve stuck anyone silly enough to step in her path.”

There’s a look in Jamie’s eyes Dani isn’t sure she’s seen before. Something tired and responsible, though not exactly guilty. She moves closer, carefully sliding Jamie’s shirt up until the tiny scar is lit by the overhead lamp, gleaming pink against Jamie’s pale skin.

“I knew better,” Jamie sighs, leaning her hip against the counter as Dani gently touches just beneath the scar. “Saw myself in her, y’know? Same caged-animal desperation. Same darkness. And I didn’t think I could save her or anything so...fucking noble, but I thought maybe she just needed a little time.”

Time, thinks Dani, right. The one thing none of them are ensured enough of.

“Never tried anything like it again,” Jamie says, taking Dani’s hand from her ribs and kissing her knuckles. “Never saw the use. I was in the garden by then, and actually giving therapy its due, and by the time I was up for anything like real human connection, I was out. Probably for the best, though. Imagine if she’d gone for my face.”

She’s teasing, trying to pull the sympathy from Dani’s frown and replace it with something brighter. Dani lets her. There’s little point in dwelling on a scar Jamie has already put to bed, after all.

“It was good of you,” she says before letting the subject drop. “To try.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says softly. Dani cradles her face in both hands, willing her to believe it. A small smile touches Jamie’s lips.

“Speaking of trying,” she says, giving Dani a light kiss on the cheek. “Think the bird’s burnin’.”

The fourth scar, Dani doesn’t feel too terrible about missing. She only finds it by accident one night, sitting on the side of the tub while Jamie soaks off a long day, and only then because her hands are busy massaging Jamie’s scalp.

“Hey,” she says softly, so as not to shatter a mood built of lit candles and quiet music. Jamie leans her head back, questioning. “There’s something here...”

“Nothing big,” Jamie says, in that tone of voice that says she knows Dani will want to hear anyway. She sighs, patting gently at the foam of bubbles climbing the sides of the tub. “Just another tale of my misguided heroism...”

Dani laughs. “For someone who says she doesn’t care, you sure do get into a lot of hero-shaped situations.”

“Takes one to know one,” Jamie teases, and some of the light fades from Dani’s grin. She doesn’t want to talk about that. Doesn’t want to think about it much. A night a thousand years ago in a lake a million miles away, and though she can feel it all creeping in at the edges, she thinks there’s still time to turn her head.

“Anyway,” Jamie adds in a slightly louder tone. “Anyway, how are you only just finding this now? With all the times you’ve pulled my hair...”

Her hand is creeping toward Dani’s knee, armed with a thin trail of bubbles. Dani shakes her head.

“After,” she says, “you tell me the story.”

Jamie moves into the little flat above the only pub in Bly and thinks, Right. Home. The way a person who’s never really had a home does, she’ll reflect later. When you think a home is just four walls and a bit of furniture, a place to lay your head. At the time, in this moment, it feels better than anything she's ever had.

She's already decided how the next year--maybe five, maybe ten, maybe the rest of what she’s got ahead of her--will look. Nothing complicated. Nothing big, or heavy, or loud. No pretty eyes. No quick smiles. No one to tell her they’ll love her if only she’d do this one little thing for them, no one to tell her they’ll kiss her if only she can keep her mouth shut about it afterward.

Just this, she decides, looking at the tiny flat with its tiny sink and tiny bathroom and tiny spot where she’s just managed to wedge a bed. Just this, and the job. Don’t need much else to get by.

It’s a good job, one she was unaccountably lucky to snag so soon out of prison. There’s so much green, she can feel her head spin to look at it all, and knows there is fortune in being asked to care for such an expanse of life. Five years ago, she doesn’t know that she could have done it. Doesn’t know if she could have been trusted. These days, she can’t imagine anything better.

A good job at a great old manor, flowers as far as the eye can see, and this little flat. She’s doing all right for herself, Jamie. She’s doing just fine.

Though the pub is a bit much some nights.

She usually comes straight home after work, uninterested in playing nice with the very specific breed born into Bly. There are some, she supposes, who are pleasant enough, but the grand majority remind her of watching her father climb into and out of a coal mine. They have the same blank expressions, the same vapid smiles, the same shape of mouth that so easily tends toward words like whore, whore, your mum’s a--

Nah. Better keeping to herself, really.

Every so often, though, despite the noise and the company, she treats herself to a drink. Just one, usually alone at a corner table or the far edge of the bar. At first, there were men who tried to get involved, men who thankfully got the message--or if not the message, at least one similarly postmarked not interested--fairly quickly. Good for everyone. Jamie’s patience is only so thin, and there is something deeply alluring about a sharp fork on a bad night.

She’s thinking about this on the night one of these men--one she remembers fairly well from a couple of weeks back, dark hair and patchy beard and bad aftershave--takes it upon himself to visit the backside of a woman’s skirt. His hand is trembling, a whiskey reverb taking the wheel, but it lands exactly where he’s aimed it. The woman, tall and angular and nervous, flinches away.

Jamie casts a quick glance around, reading the room. Everyone saw that. A pub like this, in a town so small; everyone sees everything. And yet, stunningly, no one is moving.

The guy knows it, too. She can see it all over his face, the triumph of having gotten away with a misdemeanor. Did it even happen, if no one calls him on it?

Best not find out, she thinks, and before she’s got a handle on this impulse, this stupid impulse that once got her stabbed in a prison yard, she’s up and moving. Just got out, she reminds herself, even as she’s stepping between the man and his target.

“Lady doesn’t look like she’s having a good time,” she points out. There’s a feral smile on her lips, one she hasn’t entertained in a very long time. Never ended well, nights that put this smile on like a coat of deepest red.

“Don’t remember asking,” the man sneers. His breath is so stained with alcohol, it nearly sends her reeling. The woman behind her makes a tiny noise.

“We could ask,” Jamie says, faux-brightly. She twists at the waist, just enough to glance at the woman. “You having fun with this pack of shit?”

“Hey,” he snaps. “Bitch. Who the fuck asked--”

She loses her brief struggle with restraint on bitch, her head punching forward into his nose. It hurts, a little. Hurts him worse. He’s staggering back, blood streaming between his fingers when he reaches up. She’s gratified to see he nearly pokes himself in the eye in the process.

“Might wanna,” she adds to the woman with a little nod toward the door, watching as the drunk’s intended prey rabbits on out into the night. It feels good in a way she doesn’t entirely like, listening to the blood sing in her ears. Men like this shouldn’t be allowed in public. Men like this are--

A crashing, tinkling sound, as if from very far away. Jamie’s eyes go dizzy, her hand fumbling for purchase on the bar to stay upright. Glass rains down out of her hair as she gives her head a small, aggrieved shake.

A bottle. This fucker has a bottle--well, what remains of it after introducing its length to her skull--in hand, his eyes wild. Jamie stares at him with gray disbelief, blood trickling down the back of her neck.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” she says thinly, just getting the words out before another man throws himself at the first. Then, a woman, apparently deciding the night has been too dull to stomach. And her friends. Before Jamie knows what’s going on, the world has devolved into the very particular chaos of a bar brawl, people slipping and screaming and slapping at each other with aplomb.

Right, she thinks distantly, too aware of the blood pooling sticky under her collar. Head injury. Maybe time to...

She’s back upstairs, the door double-locked behind her, before anyone notices. Briefly, while pressing a damp cloth to the back of her head and gazing at her nerve-wrackingly gray pallor in the mirror, Jamie considers calling Lord Wingrave and telling him she needs tomorrow off. Imagines how he’d sound, clipped and unyielding, over the phone line.

Of course, she won’t do it. Of course not. This job is important. This flat is important. Everything else?

Everything else is just a reminder of why she’s best left to her own devices.

“So, anyway,” Jamie says, absently patting a foam of bubbles into a small tower. “That’s why I didn’t spend much time in that little pub. If you were curious.”

“Jesus.” Dani can’t quite find something more coherent. “Jesus, didn’t you press charges?”

“For what?” Jamie looks honestly puzzled. “Small town bar, small town life. It happens.”

“You could’ve been concussed!” Dani says, louder than she means to. “You could’ve gone to sleep and never got back up again!”

Jamie reaches up, touches her cheek gently. “Hey. Poppins. Easy. I’m here. Right here.”

Dani realizes the breath is pounding out of her faster than it’s coming back in, a sure sign that she’s about to tip over the precipice of something dark and exhausting. She leans into Jamie’s hand, squeezes her eyes tight.

“Hey.” Jamie’s sitting up, knees squeaking along the bottom of the bath as she shifts. Water drains over the edge of porcelain, soaking into Dani’s skirt, trickling onto the tile. “Hey. With me, yeah?”

She lets herself be folded into Jamie’s arms, finding balance in each deep breath Jamie draws until Dani is able to match her. Jamie is still sopping wet, slippery, and the most stable thing in the room.

“Still here,” Jamie says against her ear. “Bit battered around the edges, but it’s nothing new, is it? You still like me this way, dented packaging and all?”

“Love you,” Dani corrects in a thin gasp. Jamie squeezes tighter.

“Exactly. That scar? It healed up. Like all the rest. It’s just a memory now. Can’t hurt a fly.”

Dani reaches up, combing searching fingers through Jamie’s hair until she finds the spot again. That strange raised bit she must have touched a hundred times, and only just registered. Someone hit Jamie there. Someone hurt Jamie there.

“I’m all right,” Jamie says, enunciating every word right into her ear. “Save for being a bit chilly. I don’t suppose you can help with that...?”

She’s tickling Dani, moving to kiss her neck with sloppy good humor until Dani finally breaks. Even so, for a moment longer, that image holds: Jamie alone, Jamie holding a cloth to her bleeding scalp, Jamie with tears in her eyes and a decision never to care branded on her heart.

“I love you,” Dani repeats, so forcefully, Jamie pulls back to look at her.

“I know, Dani. I love you, too. Now. Hand me a towel, or get in here with me, I’m cold without you.”

The fifth and final scar, Dani doesn’t have to look for. Jamie shows it off herself, wearing an expression Dani remembers all too well from a panic attack, a shrub not quite big enough to hide behind, a mention of just how many times a day the average Bly groundskeeper bursts into tears.

It’s a bad day, and this is Jamie’s way of making her smile again. Jamie, whose body she knows so well now, whose heart she knows even better, who wears her ring and has barely left her side in days.

It’s a bad day. They’re in bed, one of the last places in the world Dani still feels completely safe. All of the mirrors are gone from this room. The pictures on the walls are strategic in placement, making sure Dani can never catch an accidental glimpse of herself--or not--in their glass. This room, where she sleeps with Jamie each night and wakes to Jamie each morning, is a bastion against the monsters.

“Here,” Jamie says. She is, as Dani prefers her, without pants, hair up in a messy tangle, gold band gleaming on her finger. She is also, baffling Dani, holding up the bottom of her left foot.

“What...?”

“This,” Jamie says, “may be the final frontier.”

“Your...foot,” Dani replies slowly, wondering if the increasing bad spots are taking a toll on her memory. Maybe this is a conversation that would make sense, if only she hadn’t spent so much of yesterday in a daze.

“My foot,” Jamie says confidently. “More specifically: this.”

She’s pointing to a spot about midway down the sole of her foot, a spot Dani only just now can see is actually a small three-pronged scar. She frowns.

“What happened there?”

She’s a bit afraid to ask, if she’s honest. Jamie has told her so many stories over the years, and they’ve gotten progressively more intense, progressively more violent. She's not sure her heart could take it if Jamie were to tell her this was from some unexpectedly grievous injury.

“You sure you want to know?” Jamie asks gravely. “It’s quite the story. I mean, really, this is among my best. I’ve saved it just for a night like this one.”

Her mouth is somber, but her eyes are dancing. Dani feels herself smile, just a little.

“Tell me,” she says, settling her head in Jamie’s lap.

Jamie has been working for the Wingrave family for a couple of years, and it’s been better--and worse--than she could have imagined. The land is sprawling and fertile, incredibly eager to grow whatever she plants. Her rose gardens--and they are her gardens, make no mistake--are thriving. Sometimes, she thinks they’re doing better even than the human residents of Bly Manor.

It’s been a rough couple of years, even with the fulfilling nature of the work. She’s met people she can’t help regarding with a deep affection bordering on family: Hannah, and Owen, and Rebecca, and the kids. She’s met some she doesn’t get on with so well: namely, that prick Peter Quint. And things have happened, things no one could guess at or control. Lord and Lady Wingrave, once so kind and generous to her, are gone. Rebecca is gone, too, in a fresher sense. Jamie’s starting to think letting any of these people in was a mistake. People have a way of vanishing.

The plants, though. The plants are lush and green and loving. It’s silly, but Jamie thinks they believe in her more than anyone else ever has.

This middle ground between grieving people and loving the gardens of Bly is where she’s grown most comfortable, and it is that comfort she blames for being surprised when things change one sunny day.

She’s been puttering around the greenhouse for a couple of hours, glad to have the time away from prying eyes and whispering children. Flora and Miles--Flora more than Miles, lately--are charming, even wonderful, for kids, but they’re also under the age of thirteen. Jamie rarely knows what to do with kids that small, save for tossing them over her shoulder and teasing them mercilessly. They make her think of days long gone, of brothers not seen in two decades, and it scratches a strange, painful itch she doesn’t like thinking about.

So, the greenhouse. Quiet, off-set from the main property, a nice place to prepare pots and experiment with seeds. She likes it out here better than anywhere, except maybe the roses.

She especially likes how no one visits her out here. Not even Hannah or Owen, who know her better than most, and therefore understand a person’s need for solitude. No one comes out here at all--which is why, when she raises her eyes and spots a figure passing the window, she almost shouts with surprise.

Blonde, she registers. Blonde, and a sweater in some pastel off-shade of purple, and--

Who the hell...

She’s drifting toward the door, she realizes only when her legs carry her through and out onto the lawn. The woman is walking with Flora, talking to her in a voice that does not carry out to Jamie. The new au pair, she realizes. Rebecca’s replacement. Of course; they were bound to find one eventually.

And something about this one...

She isn’t looking where she’s going. It’s a rookie mistake, especially out here where the ground slopes and there are as many holes dug by rabbits as by Jamie’s own hand, and while she’s gazing after the blonde woman’s retreating form--

--her foot comes down on the upturned teeth of a fallen rake.

The breath whistles out of her through clenched teeth, pain shooting up through the bottom of her foot in radial bursts. She hops for a second, grabbing hold of the greenhouse wall, and grasps her ankle for a better look.

“Son of a,” she hisses. These boots were good, once, but good only lasts so long on a fresh-out-of-prison budget. Three of the four teeth she managed to land on have punched straight through the base of the shoe and into her skin.

“Jesus,” she mutters in mild disbelief. Years without injury on this property, and the first time she deals herself a good one, it’s because she was mooning after some woman she’s never even seen before, Jesus fucking wept.

At least she’s way out here, all on her own. At least there are bandages and a slightly less beloved pair of boots to change into. No one ever has to be the wiser.

“You see?” Jamie makes a grand gesture, wiggling her toes. “My most glorious story yet.”

Dani sits up, mouth working, unable to land on any one expression. “Are...did that really happen?”

“Did I step on a rake like a true goddamn idiot because I’d just caught my first glimpse of one Dani Clayton, you mean?”

“Yes,” Dani says, her throat suddenly dry. Her eyes are itching, tears pulling at the corners. Jamie smiles fondly.

“I did. But I recovered myself marvelously. Bet you didn’t even notice the limp.”

“You weren’t limping,” Dani recalls, remembering in a hot rush how Jamie had strolled into the kitchen that afternoon. She’d looked so at home, so confident. Dani had felt instantly, wildly, as though they’d already done this once before. Like taking a test to which she had all of the answers.

“I was not,” Jamie confirms. “Because I’d already spotted you once and made a fool of myself, and I was not about to pull that trick off again. Did you think I was cool?”

“The coolest,” Dani says, unable to stop the tears from spilling over onto her smile. Jamie pulls her close, kissing her forehead, rubbing comforting shapes into her back.

“Then mission very much accomplished. Want you to know, though, it did hurt like a--”

“Why are you telling me now?” Dani asks from against her chest. Jamie pauses.

“Why am I telling you my deepest, most embarrassing secret?”

Dani nods, sniffling a little. Jamie thinks on it.

“Because,” she says at last, reaching down to tip a finger under Dani’s chin until their eyes meet. “There are some people you don’t want to keep anything from. Some people who have earned rights to every story in your book. That one? That scar? No one knows about that. Just me. And now you.”

It means more than Dani could possibly explain. More than she could clarify, even to herself. Jamie, seeming to understand the hugeness of such a small moment, pulls her close again, kissing her with all the weight of thirteen years finally at home.

Jamie’s body is a map of scars, she thinks sometimes. A map of all the strange little accidents and intricacies of a human experience. Things that have gone wrong, so wrong, in her life as to leave a permanent mark in their wake. They’re on her back, her thigh, her side, her scalp, her foot. A road map of a life lived fully, if not always precisely well.

None, though. None could match this one.

She won’t show it off to anyone. Won’t have an ugly raised bit of flesh where the wound sealed over and made itself whole enough to carry again. Won’t have a cute story of clumsiness or a vicious tale of chivalry to back it up. This kind of scar, she thinks, is different in a way no one could understand unless they bear its ilk themselves.

The letter stays by the bed. Every night, before completing the ritual of Dani’s shirt, Dani’s pillow, Dani’s reflection refusing to show itself in the bath, Jamie picks it up. She had it memorized by the end of the first night back here, alone, pressing as close to Dani’s side of the bed as she’d dared. One night, spent back in their bed with all its pillows and blankets and emptiness.

And then, never again. She reads here, sometimes, remembering the way Dani would lean back against the headboard and watch old movies. She’ll do paperwork among sheets where Dani once lay, sprawled naked and happily asleep. She makes the bed each day as though it had been slept in the night before, rumpling the blankets a little before leaving the apartment so she’ll have something to fix when evening comes around again.

But she doesn’t sleep here. Not without Dani. Not ever.

She stays, instead, on the couch. Turns it to face the front door, with the lock that always seemed to stick with Dani’s key in it, and turned smooth as butter for Jamie. She props that door open with one of her oldest shoes, careless of whether it will still be there in the morning. Dani’s shoes, the heels she hated and the flats she wore everywhere and the sneakers that had started off Jamie’s and been slowly co-opted onto Dani’s side of the closet, stay safely tucked away. If one of those went missing, the price of some desperate thief in the night, Jamie suspects she’d lose her mind trying to track it down.

She stays on the couch, door open just a crack, bathtub full. That first night, she’d thought about just laying down in that bath and letting herself fall asleep. A bad thought. A thought running contrary to Dani’s final word on the subject. That Jamie was, above all else, to keep going without her. That she believed with her whole heart that this was the right answer. That she’d see Jamie again, and Jamie would be able to tell her off then, tell her off, and kiss her blind, and love her endlessly.

But first: this one thing. This one last, hopeful thing. To keep living. To keep going.

The worst thing, Jamie thinks each night, laying with pillows behind her back and her eyes on the door, she’s ever asked of me. Maybe the only bad thing Dani has ever asked of her in almost fifteen years. Dani was never cruel, not once, but sometimes Jamie is still angry with her for this much. For doing exactly the one thing she knew Jamie could not deny her. For asking this kind of oath.

She can’t show this kind of scar to friends at parties, can’t find the words to spin out a pretty story about how it mapped its way onto her body. All she can do is sleep with it each night. Wake with it each morning. Walk with it each day. Sleep. Wake. Walk. And know, deep down, that there is nothing like a scar left by someone like Dani.

Nothing in the world like it.

Sometimes, with her eyes squeezed shut and one of Dani’s shirts against her skin, she thinks she can still feel a hand tracing the spot on her back, that spot just under her shoulder where a small girl once dragged a boiling pot off a lit burner. Sometimes, if she closes her eyes hard enough, if she lets herself drift through the black dots behind her eyelids, she imagines slim fingers finding the raised edges, mapping them with such care, such wondering love.

She wishes Dani could ask after this one, too. She wishes more than anything she could turn a corner and there Dani would be, asking how she missed another one, how she possibly could have one more story to unburden. How would I even explain it, she wonders. How could I even tell this kind of tale?

Maybe she’ll work it out, someday. Maybe. She can’t imagine anyone wanting to hear it. Can’t imagine anyone understanding the kind of print, the kind of wound, the kind of sear one person leaves on another when they’re gone for good. Maybe someday. Maybe Owen would, or Henry. Maybe she could...

But not now. Not yet. The wound is still open, still bleeding, and every day, she finds something new to pick at its edges. A journal Dani bought and only wrote in three times. A sock lost under the couch on laundry day. A package of those silly hair ties Dani liked, the ones Jamie liked to pull gently from her hair until it tumbled in waves around her shoulders.

The place still smells of her. Jamie knows that will change, is nearly wild with horror at the idea of it. She goes to the shop in a daze one day, impulse-buys an entire cart of Dani’s shampoo. Her brand of deodorant. Her perfume, used only on special occasions like birthdays and engagement dinners and when she just wanted to get Jamie into bed for the hell of it.

This is what a scar does, Jamie thinks, staring fixedly into a mirror that stubbornly refuses to show her blonde hair and a wry little grin. This is what a scar is. One that sits in your chest. One that sits here, and tears itself back open every time you think you’re starting to heal. It picks at you. It owns you.

A story for another time, maybe. Another night, maybe.

Right now, Dani is a scar Jamie couldn’t share even if she wanted to. Dani is hers alone to carry.

She sleeps, and she dreams, and from somewhere far, far away, she imagines Dani pressing a kiss against her heart.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #anyway this is also all karatam's fault so go yell at her for making it happen #I hope you're pleased with yourself. it certainly acted as a great distraction from this extremely stressful day #and now I'm a mess so you're welcome #also I'm sorry in advance to anyone currently in class

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

Text

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff.

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget.

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement.

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier.

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs.

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child.

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands.

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother.

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement.

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment.

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd.

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over.

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she��s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.”

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie.

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors.

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper.

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous.

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls.

“ Millennium Falcon playset.”

“ You and a million other little boys. “

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face.

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street. “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity.

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #frankie morales x you #francisco morales imagine #frankie morales imagines #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier imagines #catfish imagine #catfish x reader #catfish x you #jos2020xmasspecial

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samwrights · 4 years

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Aoba Johsai 3rd Years as dads [hc]

Lmao, as if I was gonna stop at Karasuno. I’m a Seijoh hoe through and through 😂😂😂 this ones a little off the rails but it’s my blog and I write what I want. I’ll get to the rest of Seijoh later, maybe, but these turned out way longer than I anticipated.

Slight TW; mentions of miscarriage.

Iwaizumi;

I love this supportive man so much 🥺

I don’t even want kids and I’d let him turn me into a baby factory, idgaf.

Ahem, n e ways.

Low key, he would be freaking out over your guys’ first kid. Didn’t matter that you were in live-in S/O’s, or that you’d been together for y e a r s.

Homie wanted to marry you first, finally get you guys out of your shoddy apartment, maybe spend a few years traveling the world.

He wanted to live the life of a dink, at least for a little while before eventually starting a family with you. Apparently someone’s pullout game weak af.

Despite not being prepared for parenthood, your pregnancy actually goes pretty swimmingly. Iwa would def be the man to come with to all doctors appointments, parenting classes, and would literally call his mom every three seconds freaking out because he has no idea what color to paint the nursery.

“Mom, I can’t just paint it whatever, what if the baby doesn’t like it?” Don’t ask me why, I just know it would be a fact.

Throughout your relationship as teenagers, Iwa was always your hype-man cause he loves flaunting his woman at whatever she chooses to succeed at. Which made Oikawa hella jealous but irrelevant. Now that you guys were going to be a family, it was like falling in love with you all over again and he literally hyped you up everyday with how great of a mom you were going to be.

Endless comments on how beautiful you looked while pregnant, regarding your glow or how he gets so overwhelmed with love knowing that you are having his child. Fucking simp.

If you feel he’s laying it on too thick, you tell him it’s actually Mattsun’s and Iwa is just a cover so you can run off with him and Makki. 0/10, does not appreciate.

The closer you get to your due date, however, all jokes are completely off, and Hajime is in full on protective husband/dad mode. Did I mention y’all still ain’t married or

He does literally everything for you just to make sure you aren’t in too much pain or discomfort. Mfer won’t even let you pick up a laundry basket 💀

“Honey, I’m fine! Please, I can’t sit on the couch all day, there’s going to be a permanent imprint from my ass on it.”

“Baby, why is the couch wet?”

“Huh. Guess my water broke.”

Annnnnnd cue Hajime screaming his head off while proceeding to grab your hospital bag packed with clothes, a spare aux cable, and your toiletries, before rushing out to the car, starting it, and driving to the hospital.

Without you.

With that being his only major faux pas, Iwaizumi welcomes fatherhood with open arms. Sure, y’all didn’t have your house yet and a wedding was going to be difficult to plan (though if you’re down for the courthouse, he was in), and he didn’t have enough saved to buy you a ring that screamed “Mrs. Iwaizumi” to him.

But in the mean time, he could not get enough of his girls. Even little things like feeding your daughter or watching tv with her in his arms with you snuggling up to his side made him the absolute softest boy.

It may not have been his ideal situation in the past, but now all he looked forward to was watching your family continue to grow with a few more hopeful additions.

Oikawa;

Well this is awkward. You and Tooru I mean Oikawa broke up a few months ago. Not that it was a particularly bad break up; definitely more on the mutual side.

You wanted to continue pursuing your dreams and he wanted to carry on being a Pro. (Personally, I picture Oikawa being with a musician of some sort that posts covers of YouTube).

So even though you guys aren’t together anymore, you still keep up with how he’s doing in the pro VB world and he low key still watches your covers on the internet.

Your posting becomes less and less frequent, he notices over the span of a few months until you stop uploading all together. He thinks nothing of it until he gets a notification that you’ve finally uploaded a video. Two. Years. Later.

“Where we’ve been.” He doesn’t miss the collective pronoun before clicking on the video, seeing you standing with your guitarist, the former Nekoma VBC captain, Tetsurou Kuroo, as well as a cute, pudgy baby.

A baby that looked nothing like Kuroo and a whole lot like Oikawa did when he was a baby.

The video talks about your hiatus, as well as how you and your now boyfriend/guitarist were enjoying your life as parents and making music was hard with your little boy, and that the two of you needed to prioritize your son first. you introduce your baby, but the first thing Oikawa discovers is that the age of your baby and the duration of yours and Kuroo’s relationship didn’t add up. Don’t ask me why Oikawa knows how long you’ve been together, he has his resources.

Considering the toddler was two, and you and Kuroo had been together for a year. And the baby didn’t look anything like you OR him

Oikawa is flipping out now, and tries everything in his power to get a hold of you. Which oddly enough, wasn’t that hard considering your number is still the same.

“Did you finally figure it out?” Was all you said to him. He’s so upset that you didn’t tell him—that could have been him. Standing with you. Holding his baby—not bed headed fuck holding HIS son.

After FTing him, you, Oikawa, and Kuroo agreed to set up a meeting with all of you so Oikawa could finally meet his flesh and blood. He’s excited, but man oh man is he salty.

He missed his son’s first steps, first meal, holding him, teaching him how to walk, his first words; he missed ALL of it.

But the bitterness he feels completely goes away when he sees baby Oik’s in person for the first time. He had never, in his entire twenty three years of living, been in love until now. Despite your hesitation, you allow Tooru to hold his child for the entirety of your little meeting, allowing him to make up for lost years.

The three of you agreed on a form of joint custody that allowed Oikawa to have his son while you toured or were busy working, and you would have him while he was out doing his thing.

TL;DR, Oikawa takes the opportunity to make up his lost years spoiling the fuck out of his baby when he can and, oddly enough, the arrangement works out to benefit the both of you.

Ngl, parenthood is hard for him. Not because he doesn’t know how to parent, but rather because he never pictured his first child to come about this way. He would never admit it to anybody, not even Iwa, that knowing he had a child that he was barely a father to left him feeling lonely. That loneliness, however, motivates him to truly be the best dad that can be so that maybe when his son his old enough, he would rather live with him instead of his mom

Ofc, he teaches his offspring how to play volleyball as soon as he’s old enough to learn. But outside of that, Oikawa’s favorite thing to do with his son is little quiet nature walks away from the bustling city to have quality time with him.

Hanamaki;

This chill mfer 💀💀💀 for some reason, I feel like his love language is touch.

Your relationship with him was so simple, even after moving in together in your second year of college, years ago.

Well, it was simple.

As simple as life could be with four demons overrunning your house.

Due to the number of children the two of you had, with all of them being no more than two years apart in age, you became a stay-at-home mom, leaving Makki to provide for the six of you.

Because of your hellions wreaking havoc on you all day, Takahiro always wound down from work with the kids by putting on a movie and even reciting the script in his own voice to keep them entertained. Allowing you to go wind down with a glass of wine while you took a bubble bath.

Your oldest was Makki’s right hand man at the ripe age of 7. He always made sure that, as the big brother, he was looking out for his siblings and being the man of the house to help mommy while he worked.

Makki never raises his voice at the kids. Ever. Period.

If he’s upset with them or they did something they weren’t supposed to, he resolves the issue by picking them up, sitting down on the couch with them in his lap and staring at them. “Why did you draw on the walls with crayon, little man?” He would ask the offending five year old boy in the most calm voice.

“I wanted to paint a pretty picture for you and mommy!”

“And we love it. But next time, dude, if you put it on paper, I can bring those pictures to work so I can show everyone else.” Yeah, he calls his sons dude.

If his youngest and only daughter began crying over anything—Makki was on it like flies on shit. Little princess is not allowed to cry in daddy’s presence. He’s always quick to figure out why she’s crying too and, he learned, it’s mostly just because she wanted attention.

“When did you get so good at this?” You’d tease him.

“We’ve had lots of practice, honey.” 💀💀💀

A lot of the time, he felt really bad because he felt that he just kinda left you with the kids while he worked, and he’d be a little insecure. He thinks you’re tired of him and that you want to leave sometimes.

He thinks you don’t notice when he’s upset but he kinda dumb dumb cause you’ve been together for almost half of your lives, ofc you know when he’s upset.

While he’s laying in bed, nonchalantly scrolling through his phone before falling asleep for the night, you sit at his bedside, giving him the look. “C’mon, Takahiro. I can tell when something’s bothering you.” His lips would purse a little bit before locking his phone and putting it on his night stand, then holding whatever hand of yours that was closest to him with both of his.

“Ya ever just...get tired of our life?” Aksfnrjfl WOW THAT CAME OUT WRONG. This is why he prefers touch, he’s shit with words. “Wait no, that’s not what I meant. D-do, uh...a-are you happy?” Wow he really shit with words. Even if this would be conversation y’all would have at least once a year.

But no matter how many times you told him you loved him, he needed to feel it. Why do you think you ended up pregnant nearly every year? “I’m getting my fucking tubes tied after this, Makki.”

Matsukawa;

This goof would be your partner in crime second to Makki of course.

Half the time people kinda forgot you were dating let alone married because the two of you had always been playful and full of laughter; the only change was PDA was sprinkled in.

Sitting in his lap, little pecks during conversations, burying yourself in his neck or him burying himself in your hair, a hand always on your back or your shoulder.

Homies super subtle touchy.

The biggest reminder was when you’d announced your pregnancy to your friends. While Makki was super excited to be an uncle, Oikawa and Iwa were kinda like “y’all actually have sex??” Like you weren’t fucking married??

But whatever, y’all goofy and in love or w/e and it almost seems that the two of you aren’t taking pregnancy seriously. You totally are, but your friends don’t think so.

Coming up with baby names was Issei’s favorite pastime. But he went super left field with a lot of them, so you unfortunately had to veto them.

Painting and preparing the nursery was also an absolute blast. Because you both wanted the gender to be a surprise, y’all painted the room white on top with a full rainbow on the bottom, complete with gender neutral wall decals.

Honestly, he was so so so excited to be a dad. But mostly, he was just so smitten with you. It wasn’t hard for him to, considering the two of you were best friends long before dating.

He definitely turned your ultrasound pictures into memes that he hung in the babies room. “The last time I got pussy” captioned under the first ultrasound was his favorite.

You woke up one day in excruciating amounts of pain—like someone was carving out the muscles in your stomach and separating them from the skin from the inside and you knew something was wrong. “Issei, we gotta go to the hospital now!”

“N-now?” All jokes are gone, all laughter void and absent. “Honey, you’re only at the end of the first trime—“

“I know, idiot! We gotta go now!” You’re sobbing while hunching over your stomach, trying to walk but not succeeding in getting very far. Instead, your husband opts to carry you out to the car before zipping on over.

The sudden appointment had taken hours and the both of you felt drained. Well, you actually were. All of the pain you had experienced earlier in the day did not compare to the devastating blow of hearing that you had a miscarriage.

Silence fills every space that the two of you were in but, knowing you as well as he did, Mattsun refused to leave your side. Even if you had to pee.

“Babe, I have to pee.”

“Cool, which bathroom do we wanna use?” He wasn’t making jokes for the sake of being funny, which was the reason you allowed him to sit on the edge of the tub while you handled your business, holding your fingers in loose threads. It’s weird, but this was not a time for either of you to be alone to indulge your demons.

“We’re gonna get through this.” His arms would wrap around you from behind, carefully folding over your once filled womb, with his head resting on top of your own. “Just you and me, babe, against the world.”

“And Makki.”

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transsexualhamlet · 3 years

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Sherlock Holmes Reactions As A Flaming Homosexual (part 5 lmao)

Again I will be putting this shit under the cut because it's gonna be So Long and also fair warning for sherlock is in fact a raging drug addict and I have a lot of yknow parts that talk about that so tread with caution but hi i am once again yelling. keep in mind i am deliriously ill while writing this one but i think i sound. just about as insane as usual. maybe it's a bit less organized tho lol

OK FIRST I WILL STATE IT SOMEHOW DID NOT COME TO MY ATTENTION FIRST READING SIGN OF FOUR THAT WATSON APPARENTLY F U C K S

like i think it's so funny that most people will look at those two and definitely think it's the other way around but no. sherlocks a virgin and watson has had sex with every woman ever and probably not limited to women

and another thing I somehow missed the first time around in sign of four. sherlock sherlock please honey this is serious get help

THREE TIMES A GODDAMN DAY???? SHERLOCK I AM BEGGING YOU TO STOP HOW IS THIS MAN ALIVE

Funniest thing is that watson tells him to stop and hes like Watson i Only do drugs when the Newspaper is boring

is the newspaper boring three times a day sherlock. is it really

And at the same time sherlock checks the paper like a goddamn phone notification he'll just run out and get the latest version to see if anything's changed just like on the hour. Wow that man is not neurotypical.

poor watson tbh

why are these men just batshit fucking insane I love them

So yeah back to some random funny bits i got from reading a ton of the short stories

Ok i must say it's quite funny just my experience being either reading something about sherlock and watson and going awww they're in love or just violently yelling S H E R L O C K

Cause i was like reading a bit where watson was talking about how he was on a nice little walk with sherlock, you know, the kind of walk where no one talks but it's really comfortable and you know only people who know each other Very Intimately like him and sherlock are that well together and i was just like aww

And then three seconds later I'm laughing my ass off about "how did you know my name" "IT WAS ON YOUR HAT"

SDHFDHHDFHFDS AND ALSO THAT TIME WHEN SHERLOCK JUST COMPLETELY GODDAMN MISREAD A SITUATION AND MADE UP THIS CONSPIRACY ABOUT LIKE A SECRET HUSBAND WHOS DEATH HAD BEEN FAKED AND THEN IT WAS JUST OH NO MY KID'S BLACK WHATEVER SHALL I DO

AND BECAUSE HE WAS SO EMBARASSED ABOUT IT HES LIKE WATSON IF I EVER MAKE UP SOME DUMB SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN FEEL FREE TO CALL ME A FUCKING IDIOT and wow thats the most humble thing hes ever done

And then he starts saying shit like "i hope your marriage doesn't change anything between us" like damn shawty what is that supposed to mean /homosexual

I also love how bc watson is the only one writing it when sherlock is talking about something that happened to him in the past with quotes and stuff there's just like seven fucking quotation marks around each other im dying

SGBDFSNNDSGNSFNFDSDFS I THOUGHT THE SHOOTING THE WALL THING WAS A YUUMORI SPECIFIC THING NO HE JUST DOES IT FOR FUN AND NOT JUST ONCE LIKE HE MAKES ART OUT OF THE FUCKING BULLET HOLES HE WAS MAKING BULLET HOLE ART OF QUEEN VICTORIA PLEASE IM CRYING AND HUDSON WAS LIKE STOP??? SHOOTING THE WALL??? AND HES LIKE SHAWTY IM ALMOST DONE CALM DOWN

And when they make him clean his goddamn room im losing my mind why does he keep random shit from his old cases "in case it comes in handy" and "to remember that time i solved that thing" i am going to throw marie kondo at you

BASFBGHDFSHGFHFSDHHDSFDS IM NOT EVEN SURPRISED THIS HAPPENED BUT ITS SO FUNNY WHEN HE JUST GOT SO HYPERFIXATED ON A CASE THAT HE JUST FUCKING. WORKED ON IT 15 HRS A DAY FOR TWO MONTHS AND THEN GOT SO EXHAUSTED AND SICK THAT WATSON HAD TO TAKE CARE OF HIM AND TAKE HIM TO THE SEASIDE TO GET BETTER LIKE HE GOT VICTORIAN WOMAN DISEASE AND SOMEONE IMMEDIATELY FUCKING GOT MURDERED RIGHT NEXT DOOR AND WATSONS JUST LIKE. HHHHHHHHHHH FINE I SUPPOSE YOU JUST FUCKING KILL YOURSELF AGAIN ALL THIS IS FOR NOTHING IM TRYING SO GODDAMN HARD

I feel so bad for him, hes just trying so hard to keep this idiot alive and it is Not Working

Ok so like this is something Im still absolutely reeling over because it's like. it doesn't even seem real to me but the fact that Sherlock has multiple times just like gone to watson's house in the middle of the night, climbed up his goddamn wall and into his window, been like "you better not be busy" and started Talking

Like. Man's in his nightgown and just sees this fucker climbing in the window like "WATSON WATSON YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND" and not just that. he's like "I only came in because you don't fucking sleep with your wife and it appears that you don't have any men in here either so I thought it was ok" LIKE ONE, WTF IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN SHERLOCK WHY WOULD HE HAVE OTHER MEN IN HIS BEDROOM SEHGIHO:EWOHO:GHE BUT TWO, WHYYY ARE THEY GAY

He didn't even fucking ask or say he was gonna do that no watson just has no clue when hes gonna show up and start remarking upon watson's appearance what even. homosexuals

Sherlock honestly just baffles me sometimes.

Oh, also, I read the one with Mycroft in it, and wow, is the man just as boring as he is in yuumori. That's just hilarious that sherlock is this absolutely insane man and then in contrast his older brother Pays Money to Sit In A Completely Silent Room and Read The Paper

It's so funny how he's like. Straight up even smarter than sherlock but no one gives a shit about him because he just. Is so fucking boring and antisocial

Like, we don't know anything about Sherlock's childhood but like. Part of me wants to think that it must have been absolutely insane and then Mycroft's rebellious stage was to just be fucking boring. Like. I would believe that. Just imagine that

I am going to make the final problem stuff its own post just cause I went absolutely insane over it but yea this was certainly an experience

#rowan views moriarty #rowan's hyperfixation essays #sherlock holmes #help lol

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wayward-riana · 4 years

Text

The Lost Silhouette | Part One | Thomas Shelby

Summary: After Grace’s death, Tommy had closed his heart off but when he marries the new female detective of the Crime Investigation Department of Birmingham only for protection from the law, his cold exterior starts melting.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and violence. Brief mentions of sadness and depression.

A/N: Charlie is 1 and a half years old in this story. Grace died when he was just a couple of months old. The reader’s job in this is not entirely historically accurate. But I hope you enjoy.

________________________________

Dull blue eyes stare up at the ceiling as pink lips wrap around the white roll of paper. The air is heavy as it has been for the last eighteen months. There isn’t a hint of happiness in this dreadful residence. The only thing that keeps the house from seeming haunted is the rare laughs of the little toddler that Thomas’ lover had left him, before she was shot right in front of his steel blue eyes.

The blue eyes that used to shine so bright once. The blue eyes that used to light up. The blue eyes that dreamed so big. Now those same blue eyes have lost all their light. They hold no emotions. No happiness. No love. Only a little bit of affection for Charlie.

Tommy lost all his ambitions and the only reason why he keeps going on is for his beloved son, who he loves the most in this world. Everything Tommy does is only for the good of his dear son. So when he married Y/N, he told himself he wasn’t betraying Grace, he was doing it for Charlie and for his family. Charlie was only just a few months old and he needed a mother-figure in his life and to Tommy a nanny did not count as a mother-figure.

Y/N was a girl from a noble family, who had a pretty prestigious job. A job that no other woman seemed to have at the time. A detective. When she first met Tommy, she had just been transferred to Birmingham from London. Around that time, the Peaky Blinders were having a lot of issues with the law. The cops made their lives a living hell. He did what he thought was right, he went to Y/N’s superior and asked her hand in marriage. Y/N’s superior was the superintendent, Christopher Holden, who was transferred to Birmingham alongside her. He was a father-figure to her, as her father died in the great war.

Christopher was absolutely appalled by the idea. He wasn’t going to let someone like Tommy marry one of the best officers in the unit. He wasn’t her biological father, but he loved her like she were his own blood and flesh. So. Tommy made a deal that he’ll help them keep all the gangs in Birmingham on a leash if he got to marry Y/N. He knew if he married her, someone with such a big reputation in the police department, no one would be able to even lay a finger on his family and the rest of the Peaky Blinders.

Christopher agreed to the deal only if Y/N did.

Y/N is an independent woman with a job that she absolutely loves. She earns her own money and has saved up enough money that she could buy the city of Birmingham if she wanted to. She didn’t need a man. She was almost twenty-seven but unmarried, which was strange to everyone. She was beautiful, head-strong, classy, smart and rich. Everything a man would want yet she never married. The reasons were unknown.

But she never imagined herself to be in an arranged marriage. Especially, with someone who is always in trouble with the law. She would’ve never agreed to it if it weren’t for Christopher. He put out all the benefits this marriage would bring to the department but he never forced her. But she was smart enough, so she agreed to marry Thomas Shelby.

Tommy’s family was pretty skeptical about Tommy’s decision to marry a cop. But as Polly says, “Tommy knows best.” When he told everyone about the marriage, everyone was...somewhat cooperative.

“She’s a cop?” John scrunched his face in disapproval.

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed. “She’s too pretty for such a disgraceful job.”

Polly wasn’t sure of what Y/N was going to be like. She never approved of Grace but knew how much she meant to her nephew. She knew that Tommy had no liking or feelings towards the detective, but she still held out the hope that he would be happy one day.

Surprisingly, everyone adored Y/N. Her quick-wit, knowledge, and kindness managed to charm the Shelby’s. They were more than thrilled to welcome her into the family.

Tommy didn’t care about that at all. He never knew what she was like and he couldn’t care less. They only had exchanged a few words before they got married. They never even had a proper conversation. She didn’t care either, she was doing it for the good of the city. She only cared about that and Charlie, who she instantly fell in love with when she first met him. The little boy adored her as well, which was a huge relief to his father.

The wedding was a beautiful yet gloomy one. The wedding took place on the edge of a beautiful cliff. The guests were just the Peaky Blinders and some of Y/N’s closest friends.

The altar was decorated with all kinds of flowers. It was the only thing that made Y/N happy.

Tommy didn’t even kiss her on the lips. He just offered her a small peck on the cheek.

The feeling of his lips lingering on her cheek is a feeling that Y/N still remembers every time he walks into her bedroom with Charlie in his arms and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He always stands by the edge of her bed and briefly mentions some business that he needs her help with. He then lets Charlie kiss her goodnight, before he disappears back in his bedroom with the little boy. And that’s the only amount of interaction Y/N has with Tommy, everyday.

However, Y/N feels a little more courageous today.

She smooths out her blazer, while looking in the mirror for the last time. The light of the early sun makes her navy blue pant-suit a little more bright than it is. Her hair shines underneath the rays of the sun. She walks out of her bedroom door with her suitcase in her hand. Instead of walking downstairs, she takes a turn and walks into her husband’s bedroom. Something, she never does.

The open door of his bedroom is very unusual, so she peaks her head through the door and sees Tommy rummaging through his drawers, getting ready for work as well. She clears her throat to grab his attention. He turns his head slightly and catches a glimpse of the woman. He raises his eyebrows, expressing his surprise.

“Yeah?” He grumbles.

“Was heading to work, so I thought I’d say goodbye before I leave.” She explains. In the six months of their marriage, this has never happened before.

Tommy eyes her up and down, taking in the sight. He has seen her in a suit maybe twice, because the only time he ever sees her is when they both get home from work and get settled in their home attires.

“All right,” He nods at her. “G’bye”

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek as she nods back at him. Before she heads out, she goes to kiss Charlie as she always does.

On her way out of the home, a wave of sadness washes over her. She realises that her silly heart has fallen for her husband who she had no relationship with. Other than legal papers binding them together, they were not even acquaintances.

She had not fallen for anyone after she lost the only man she ever loved, to the war. James. Major James Voight was a gallant man who fought alongside Y/N’s father in the great war in France. She lost both of them. She never wanted to love again. She was too afraid to lose someone again.

Tommy didn’t know about this. He didn’t know that she lost her fiance to the war. He never knew how troubled she was, deep down inside.

Now that she has fallen in love so foolishly, she tells her feelings to shut down like a machine. She has functioned herself to be a machine, to never feel again. But the machine she made, seems to not work anymore. The fear courses through her veins, because she knows...she knows that as her heart beats in her chest, it now only beats for Thomas Shelby.

______________________________

I hope you all enjoyed this. I’ll be writing a few more parts of this particular story. So, stay tuned for more. R, xxx.

#tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas #shelby #shelby family #thomas shelby #arranged marriage #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #shelby family x reader #charles shelby #charlie shelby

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yonymii · 4 years

Text

2 arabesques

a/n; this one was hard to write bc I did it while having writers block but I hope it's ok!! I love alisa a lot she is lovely and I would marry her if she was real 🥰🥰😍😁😁 also I got very absorbed like, halfway through so y/ns personality is basically me. yes

wc; 3.9k

warnings; cursing,

genre; fluff, strangers/friends to lovers, romance

pairing; alisa haiba x gn!reader

listen to 2 arabesques here!

She reminded you of the old paintings of angels you’d seen in art galleries as a child. It was weird, seeing something so ethereal reincarnate as a university student. She didn’t belong here; she belonged on a pedestal, deserved to be adored. But life was unfair, you supposed, and not everyone could experience the excitement of such an elaborate life. Perhaps that was why she was studying fashion modeling in the first place (whatever that was). You’d probably never know. She had absolutely no idea who you were.

By the time you’d stopped daydreaming, your final class of the day was over and everyone had left. Only you were left in the lecture hall, sitting at the very back with your head resting ontop of your arms, the shuffling of the professor packing up his things quickly making tiny little noises at the front of the room. He left, the door swinging shut behind him, but it wasn’t locked.

It didn’t take you long to pack up, seeing as your laptop hadn’t left your bag in the first place. You swung it over your shoulder after your coat, tucking your hands into the sleeves to protect them from the bite of the wind. It had been snowing when you arrived in the morning, and it took and hour to wake up your fingers to be able to type, let alone write anything.

The hallways were quiet (as usual; it wasn’t as if anyone wanted to stay in school when they didn’t need to). The little shop on the ground floor had a few students in it, but they were in a hurry to leave too. The large exit doors had obviously been open all day and it was absolutely freezing. You were glad you’d put on your big coat in the morning; it was a long walk back to your apartment and you planned on going to a coffee shop before going there.

It had stopped snowing, but the ground was covered in puddles and your boots and feet got soaked in numbingly cold water as you wandered towards the place you usually studied. It was slowly getting darker as you walked and the sun was lowering itself below the tall line of skyscrapers and apartment blocks when you entered the coffee shop and joined the small queue of teenagers and tired-looking adults ordering their drinks.

It was quiet inside but you were thankful for the warmth the heaters provided, and the low hum of voices under the music wasn’t unwelcome; you payed for your drink quickly and went to sit at your usual spot, the two-seater table in the corner. There was a small, dim light hanging above your head and it lit the space in a soft, golden glow, unlike the rest of the coffee shop that was lit by streetlamps outside. The moon was hid behind a building, only half of it visible, but you still found yourself staring at it for an unnecessary amount of time. It reminded you of her; your friend’s friend. The girl studying fashion modeling.

To be quite honest, you didn’t see her that often, so it was a mystery as to why she plagued your mind so often. Apparently, her brother played volleyball for a highschool called Nekoma (albeit not very well), and she was half Russian. Not that it mattered to you, though. You supposed that you’d like her anyway.

Suddenly, you found yourself snapped out of your little trance by the waiter bringing your mug to the table and setting it down a little too loudly. He walked away quickly, avoiding any sort of contact with you, but you weren’t bothered by it. You were focused on your book so the lack of conversation wasn’t disappointing in the slightest. The bell at the door rung again, and because of the small distraction of your drink arriving you raised your head to see who it was, somewhat begrudgingly, despite it being completely of your own accord.

Your eyes were met with a pair of stark green ones that seemed to go right through you; you shivered, not because they were unfriendly. Admittedly, you knew who she was, but your frank lack of energy made it hard to want to communicate with anyone, and so you pretended not to see her, looking back down at your book and swiftly burying yourself in the pages, as if you were trying to hide from her.

You knew your efforts were futile though. She was almost too nice, and it wasn’t like she knew you were already half-asleep and probably weren’t able to form a coherent sentence. At this point, you weren’t even reading. The words were going right over your head.

You heard her footsteps before her voice, and you didn’t even need to look up to know she was smiling. “Y/n!”. Too loud. You tried not to wince to noticeably.

“Hey, Alisa,” you managed to spit a greeting out. You weren’t sure what you thought about her at this point. You were tired, and it was late, and you had so many essays due that you doubted you’d get more than an hour of sleep over the next few days. Yeah, sure, you loved her but you were so overwhelmed you didn’t think you’d be able to handle talking to one more person. Emotions were confusing (especially when you considered yourself to be in love, whatever that felt like).

“How have you been?”, her voice was like silk, and you had to wait a moment to process what she was saying. Alisa continued, “I haven’t seen you since last month! How have you been?” she looked down at your book, then at your bag that barely held all the paper assigments from your classes. She laughed (the same laugh that gave you heart palpitations. This was the reason she wasn’t good for you) “You look busy.”

You laughed (it was sort of forced, but that isn’t the point), “Yeah. School tends to keep you busy,” you paused, adding shakily, “I’m used to it, though. Don’t worry about me!”

The blonde girl frowned as she watched you panic, your eyes darting everywhere but her. It was hard not to worry when you watch someone you consider a friend fall apart in the back corner of a coffee shop. She tried her best to ignore it though, and as soon as you managed to look back at her she continued the conversation.

“I don’t think we have each other’s numbers yet, y/n. Do you mind exchanging? Maybe we could go out together sometime, since i have to get home and look after Lev,” she sighed, and her eyes closed momentarily, “He’s a bit of a handful. For a fifteen-year-old.”

You didn’t have the energy to feel sorry for her but you let her enter her number into your phone, and she listened attentively when you told her yours to make sure she didn’t get it wrong and end up texting a random stranger to make plans. After you watched her leave, take-out cup of coffee in hand, you lay your head on the darkening pages of your book, ear pressed to the paper. You closed your eyes for a moment and then sat up, breathing deeply as you drank the rest of your tea. You closed your book, tucking it into the bottom of your bag and standing up, patting your coat pocket to check that your phone was still in there.

It was pitch-black when you stepped outside, and the streetlamps made you squint and cover your eyes with one hand; your apartment wasn’t too far away but it was cold and taxis were easy. You flagged one down and climbed into the back, sitting directly behind the driver (it made you feel safer anyway), and you put in your headphones.

The drive passed quickly, and as soon as you paid for the journey and exited the car you began to walk briskly up the stairs to your place. Your keys were in the same pocket as your phone, and you pulled them out wearily, pushing the silver one into the lock and turning it till you heard the familiar click.

The door felt extra heavy tonight, and your bag dropped to the floor just as quickly as you dropped onto your bed. The lights were too bright to turn on but the fairy lights lining the walls were fine; you opted for them as you dropped your thick coat next to your bag and shoes. Closing the window from the freezing cold and switching on the little heater, you crawled into bed and let the warmth envelop you. You fell asleep in mere seconds, ignoring the loud vibrations from your phone carry across the room.

Most of the time, when you don’t want to reply to someone’s message or call them back, you just pretend to have not read it or noticed in the first place. It was weird, leaving the notification there, just to remind yourself that she texted you first. When you’d exchanged numbers the previous week, you just assumed that you’d be the first one to reach out. That’s how it had been with every other friend you’d made. You weren’t disappointed; in fact, you were grateful. You hated having to initiate conversations, however you still felt bad for not replying.

It had been five days since Alisa first messaged you, three since the second time, and fifteen minutes since the last. The latest one read ‘I’m coming over. Be about 20 minutes!’.

You sighed, reading it once more and then turning your brightness down. Just because you hadn’t replied to any of her texts didn’t mean you weren’t ok. The music barely reached your ears since you were buried so deep under your covers, but that was fine. You weren’t really listening to it anyways.

There was a knock at the door. You didn’t think that the person on the other side realised how thin it was, but you definitely heard them sigh and let out a string of curses after you didn’t reply. It was Alisa, but you knew that. Nobody else would want to check in on you. The doorknob rattled and you winced; too loud. It opened, a little quieter this time, and slowly, the covers were peeled off of your figure. Alisa sighed (again. How sick of you could she possibly be? You only got back in touch less that six days ago) and looked down at you with disdain.

“You need to get up. Have you missed any classes?” you shook you head in response to her questions. You couldn’t miss classes. It’s not as if you found them particularly difficult. Just a little boring, that’s all.

You closed your eyes, tapping your fingers against the mattress. The blinds had been opened and now the evening light was pouring into your room unfiltered. Alisa grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you up painfully slowly. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and patting her hand to let her know you can sit up on your own.

You opened your eyes somewhat begrudgingly, squinting from the still too-bright light. Alisa was stood at your small fridge, rifling through whatever food was left in there. She pulled out a half-full bottle of milk and a packet of ham. “Do you not uhh,” she paused, “have any… other kinds of food? Or is your diet limited to milk and ham sandwiches?”

“I usually get takeout. Or ham sandwiches. Sort of depends how lazy i’m feeling on that day.” She turned and smiled at you, nodded her head back towards the door. “We can go to mine. I have ‘good’ food there. Lev needs feeding anyways.”. You grinned, “I thought Lev was fifteen?”

“Yeah, but he’s still incompetent. I’ll teach him to cook later, when i’m not taking care of you.”

You looked down at your lap, and then at the pair of shoes on the floor next to your bed. Sliding them on, you stood, looking at Alisa for approval. “You look fine. When was the last time you changed?”

You hesitated, thinking for a moment, “A few hours ago, when i got back from class.” You grabbed the brush on the bedside table and combed through your hair a few times, evening it out from the mess it was a minute ago. “C’mon,” Alisa opened the door, “Don’t forget your keys! I doubt you wanna get locked out, right?”

Alisa’s house was big. She was lucky not to have to live in student accommodation, in all honesty. When you sat down on her large sofa, you heard the voices of two adults nearing. You weren’t sure what to think at this point. You and Alisa barely knew each other, and she’d come to your apartment, dragged you out of bed, invited you into her home where her whole family was.

“Alisa, darling? Have you brought a friend over?”

You saw her nod out of the corner of your eye as she made your meal, humming quietly to the tune of the music. There were loud, fast footsteps in the corridor that her parents had exited and looking up, you saw a lanky grey-haired boy with the same stark green eyes as her. He was almost as tall as the ceiling, and when he entered the room he had to duck to get through the threshold. You assumed this was Lev, Alisa’s high school age brother. Volleyball boy. Whatever. He was unimportant, and you were hungry.

“Ah! Lyovochka! Are your teammates here? Do they want food?” she didn’t look up from the kitchen counter as she spoke but Lev nodded, running back to ask his friends if they wanted food. (He never came back to give any sort of answer, though)

“So!” the sudden appearance of Alisa’s mother was unexpected. She was just as pretty as her daughter, but very obviously older. “What’s your name?”

You stuttered, panicking slightly, avoiding any possible eye contact. You looked to Alisa for help, and caught her gaze as she hurried over, sitting next to you. “This is y/n, mom. We met a while ago but i invited her over for lunch today,” she looked at you and patted your thigh, trying to calm you down slightly, “We might go out to the city later, if that’s okay with them.”

Alisa’s mother raised her eyebrows at your unwillingness to speak; maybe she thought you were being rude, but you didn’t have the capacity to worry about that right now. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” You nodded, slightly dizzy from being so overwhelmed but trying to be as polite as possible nonetheless. Alisa’s dad was stood behind the sofa, a large cup of what you assumed to be tea inbetween his hands.

Alisa stood and ushered her parents away, towards the door. “Were you going out?” they nodded, grabbing bags and phones on the way out, “We’ll see you later, then!” Her father tried protesting, but Alisa reassured them that Lev was completely fine while you and her were here.

Once the door was closed, Alisa looked back at you apologetically. “Sorry about them! They can be a little overbearing sometimes.” she gave you a small smile and pulled out two plates. “I think that’s an understatement.” you replied quietly.

She laughed loudly, earning a smile from you. “I’m glad you’re okay now though.” she looked at you, smile instantly gone from her face. “You are okay, right?” You nodded, and she relaxed, serving your food onto the plates and bringing them round to the coffee table you were sat facing. “It might be a little hot. Wait a bit before you try it.”

You picked up your plate and put it onto your lap, the warmth of it heating your legs, as if the heat of the room wasn’t already enough. Your face felt warm and your hands shook slightly as you reached to pick up the food; you were either hungry or nervous. It was probably best to not think about it too much.

Alisa was staring at the TV that was sat on a polished wooden desk by the wall, her eyes mirroring the images from the screen. From the looks of it, she was watching a documentary on animals in the arctic, probably one you’d seen before. You weren’t looking at it, but the narrator’s voice sounded familiar and when you were little you’d watch stuff like that constantly, sometimes the same one over and over again until you got bored of it then moved on to the next one (which you’d also - metaphorically - beat half to death and then abandon)

After your meal, the two of you were still, to your displeasure, sat it silence. Alisa had turned the show off and was now sat reading a book and you were fiddling with your hands, waiting for her to notice you and let you go home (really, you could leave any moment, but you didn’t want to say anything first).

You stood up upon hearing Lev shouting from what you assumed was his room, and Alisa’s head immediately snapped up. She checked the time on the clock above the kitchen counter, and gasped, looking at you apologetically.

“Gosh! Y/n, you should have told me it was so late! I’ll walk you home.”

You shook your head, and the blonde girl in front of you sighed. “Are you sure? It’s getting dark. At least let me call you a taxi, ok?”. You hummed out a noise of approval and she picked up her phone that had been resting precariously on the arm of the sofa.

As she was speaking to the person on the other end of the line, (a series of yeses followed by her address and then your street. You smiled, tapping your chest and then sliding your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. She opened the door for you and the taxi pulled into her drive as you stepped out of the threshold; you waved at her, thanking her for your stay, and then wandered over to the taxi, sitting in your usual seat (behind the driver) and she only closed the door of her home when the car drove off. Your phone buzzed; ‘text me when you get home safe, ok! -Alisa <3’.

The next month was January.

The holiday season had passed without you seeing Alisa once, except for in a corner shop once, where you pretended not to see her but ended up being approached anyways. That time there was a pink coating her porcelain skin (you weren’t sure whether it was makeup, the cold or an actual blush, but you opted for the last one to satisfy yourself somewhat).

You sort of wished that you’d been able to spend the holidays with her, though. Sometimes, you found yourself thinking about her unconsciously. It was weird, but you ignored it. Stuff like that seemed like a lot of effort to you, and you were not notorious for being invested in relationships, platonic or romantic.

You only had one class today, and after that you saw her in the hallways. She’d obviously had a class in the same building of you, and as usual, you pretended not to have seen her. You just kept walking, coffee in hand, eyes on the floor. Again, like the first time you’d really talked, you heard her footsteps approaching and accepted your fate.

“Y/n! Hey!” she kept walking after you; you buried your face into your scarf and tried to get yourself to stop but it felt like your feet were moving on their own. Why were you ignoring her? You liked her, for god’s sake! You barely knew her, you should be using moments like these to get to know her better! What the hell were you doing?

Her hand landed on your shoulder and pulled you back. By now, the pair of you were outside, and your feet were crunching over newly layed snow. It was coming down thickly, you had to squint to see her properly. She looked tired, and her face was pale in comparison to the pink of the tip of her nose and her ears. It was cold, after all, and she didn’t have a scarf of hat or anything. You wanted to lend her yours; that was what people who were close did, wasn’t it? Why did she look so bedraggled anyway?

“Y/n, seriously, stop.”

You frowned, confused. You looked sad? And why would she care anyways? You weren’t close, and you could see her friends looking on from the steps of the building. The snow was catching in her hair and it felt like time had stopped; she really did look unreal. “I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Alisa. We’re not close, and we barely ever talk.”

It looked like she was about to cry. Maybe it was the cold?

“I don’t need a reason to care about you, y/n!” she reached a hand up to rub her eyes, “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy!” she pointed to her friends on the steps, “They know it!” she was shouting now, and the wind seemed to whistle even louder in your ears, “Everyone else seems to know i’m in love with you except you! And i’m sorry if i didn’t make it obvious enough for you.”

At this point your brain was going overdrive to process what she’d just told you. You knew you probably looked stupid just standing there and staring at he but what else could you do? This wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your evening going, and despite receiving confessions before this one felt different; you felt like your heart was on fire. It burned, and you were out of breath despite standing completely still. Alisa reached out and took your freezing cold hand into her own. She was surprisingly warm, and there were tears dripping off of her chin onto her coat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, you probably never felt the same way. Like you said, right? We barely even know each other.”

You stepped forward (again, it felt like you weren’t in control of your own feet) and with the hand Alisa wasn’t holding, cupped her cold cheek. She looked back at you and you could see her friends out of the corner of your eyes chewing the inside of their cheeks. It was embarrassing to say the least, but necessary. Alisa sniffed, and you looked back down at the ground, shaking your head. “No that’s not what i..” you tried to make your voice louder, “I just didn’t expect you to also feel like that.”

She laughed (it was probably the most beautiful noise you’d ever had the pleasure of hearing) and leaned in so that your foreheads were touching, her pretty smile still adorning her lips. “I’m glad,” she whispered, and the burning of your cheeks felt like a blazing fire across your face.

“Call me later, ok?” you nodded as she moved her face away, hand leaving yours reluctantly. “We can go out sometime. If it’s uhh.. okay with you, of course.” You giggled, and Alisa waved, her friends running after her (also giggling and patting Alisa’s head in what looked like celebration). It had stopped snowing, and the sun was shining through the clouds in a golden evening glow, lighting up the city marvellously. You decided to walk home today.

tags; @chqrryvelvet @wissbby

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