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sonianvmd · 4 years ago

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thh characters with a crush on you

warnings: none, maybe some swearing but otherwise nothing major

oH and mentions of murder and death but this is danganronpa so im going to assume u expected as much

a/n: so we kickin this blog off with a bang, writing for LITERALLY THE ENTIRE TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC CAST LMFAOAOAOAO (excluding hifumi, yasuhiro, and the two despairs doe bc i’ve already made that clear)

also some character’s sections are shorter than others im sorry i just couldnt think of as many bullet points for them *tiktok cry emoji*

edit: I FORGOT CELSESTE FU K SORRY

spoilers under the cut!!

★ 彡 ★ ミ ★ 彡 ★ ミ ★

makoto naegi

when he realizes he likes you, he doesn’t necessarily panic or anything, but he does get nervous

nervous around you, that is

y’all saw how he was with sayaka

if he says anything that might sound intimate then he’ll immediately rephrase it or reassure he didn’t mean anything by it

he really only does have good intentions but his wording just kinda flops sometimes

he appreciates how you listen to him and value what he says

you don't make him feel dumb or inferior compared to a bunch of ultimates with actual talents

he’ll muster up the courage to tell you eventually

let’s hope his luck comes through 😁

byakuya togami

now when THIS man realizes he likes you, he a bitch nigga bout it 😐

he can't believe he fell for a common plebeian such as you

but it was hard not to

the way you preferred to get to the point

the way you were aware of your situation and didn't sugarcoat how you felt about it, although you certainly were nicer with it than him

he's ruthless

anyways

you knew your priorities and spent no time trying to use your resources

he noticed how much you had in common; in you, he saw himself

and we all know how this mf feels about himself 😐

he’ll be quick to defend you in class trials

he won’t realize he’s doing it but he just subconsciously protects you

but just because he doesn't notice it, don't mean the rest of the class brushes past it as well

yeah they on his ass LMFAOO

kyoko kirigiri

kyoko is very good at keeping her composure so she won’t be very obvious

she’ll probably just hang around you more

she’ll also defend you in class trials, calmly

“oh, it couldn’t have been [name]. i remember seeing them in their dorm around the time the murder took place.”

hifumi probably finna say some dumb shit like “aye what was you doin in their dorm doe” but anyways

she finds you respectable

if you have anything to contribute, she’ll let you take the floor

when she tells you, she’s very composed, but also very indirect LMFAO

she’s not too sure on how to express her interest in you but maybe she’ll go about it like “well, [name], now we’ve made it here, would you like to step back into the world with me?” or somethin else along those lines idk

take her hand

pls

toko fukawa

y’all know her whole “master togami” shtick

yeah so 😁😁😁😁

no but fr, toko ofc still has her borderline stalkerish 🧍🏾‍♀️ tendencies

she’ll often find herself staring at you, either in the library or in the morning meetings everyday at breakfast

but she isn’t as straight forward as she is with byakuya

i actually think she’d be mad shy and non confrontational

the whole thing she kept up with him ? yeah, never again

if you approach her first then she’ll be able to get a few words out but for most of the conversation, she’ll just nervously play with her braids

you’ll most likely put two and two together

unless ur a makoto kinnie bc then you’ll have to wait till someone else puts it in place for u but anyways

if you decide to approach her about it, you’ll kinda be backing her into a corner bc she’s just bad at deflecting things lmao

she’ll eventually confess (begrudgingly but hey i mean its better than nothing)

expect much stuttering and a gesture like giving you a small gift

and not to be that writer that uses japanese terms in english writing but toko seems like a tsundere but not really if that makes sense?? so she’d probably shove it in your hands and if you try to say something then she’ll just try to play it off as not a big deal lol

calls u a baka 😍😍

aoi asahina

i know y’all all see how she is with sakura

yeah.

aoi is the kind of person who’d like to spend time with their crush rather than shy away from them

she values you and your friendship very much

bring her donuts

just trust me bring her donuts

she doesn’t really realize she’s into you like that for a while but believe me, she is, the whole time

and yeah i think she’d be nervous to tell you bc that’s just natural but ultimately she’d be cool about it

uh oh looks like we goin for a swim

sakura ogami

similar to kyoko, she’s very calm

despite her big and bad appearance, she really is a sweet girl

she cares for you and your well-being very much

will indeed go on x games mode for you

the way she tells you is very sincere and well spoken

kith her

naow

im sorry this is like the shortest one i couldn’t think of much for her 😔😔

leon kuwata

flirtatious ass mf

and he’s lightskin

so this just cannot go well

y’all know that bit where it’s like the guy yawns and stretches his arms up and then wraps one around your shoulder

yeah that’s literally him LMFAOO

he’s very confident

he was fairly well known with the ladies at his old school so you know he’s rhockin wit it ‼️

but

you feel.. different than usual ??

those girls were just lil flings n dates bc he was nice enough to accept their confessions and it boosted his ego anyway so it was a win win

but you

he was genuinely interested in you since he had saw you the first time

he didn’t just acknowledge your appearance

he learnt about your personality and your hobbies and what you liked and such, and he really cared and wanted to hear you talk about it all

he felt the need to really make an effort to show you how much he respected and had affections for you

he doesn't tell you in a grand way

probably just asks you out to a movie or somethin

he's chillin

mondo owada

you know

for being the biggest, baddest, most respected biker gang leader

or just for being in a biker gang period

mondo’s a huge softie lol

yeah he gets violent but he’s a sweet guy who cares about and is loyal to his friends

so mfs need to be nice to you

or they gettin whooped

when he decides it’s time to tell you how he feels, he thinks over his words and he’s all confident there’s no way you’d reject him but then he sees you in the halls and goes 🧍🏾 LMFAOOO

he’ll push through but it’s like he’ll walk up to you and look away from you because he refuses eye contact and just go

“so y/n, would you wanna.. tch.. come to a drive-in movie with me or somethin’?... dumbass.”

real smooth mondo i think you got em good job

please tease him LMFAOO it’d be so funny

he’d probably yell but you can tell he’s not mad so you just keep going with it

but once you’re done tormenting him, you do agree to the movie, don’t worry 🙏🏾

also mondo would call his s/o doll

that is all

chihiro fujisaki

my fav dude in a dress <3

chihiro would be quite shy, but that’s just how he is tbh so no surprise there

he’s very kind so he’d check up on you often just to see how you are

he cares about you v much

the way he confesses is one that consists of a red face as he offers you a box of candy or something similar

and he’d feel honored that you reciprocate his feelings

he’d be very scared to tell you his secret but once he does, he’s delighted to hear it doesn’t make any difference to you

he doesn’t know how he got so lucky with you

not only because woooo they like me back but also because you like him despite,, well everything about him LMFAOO

sweet lil boy

i’d feel like he’d talk about you to alter ego a lot

and when u meet the program for the first time, he’s like “oh! you must be [name]! master’s told me all about you :)”

sobbing i miss him

kiyotaka ishimaru

okay here’s the thing

if taka were to like someone

i can’t tell whether he’d be more strict because he doesn’t want them to get in trouble (and also so it would hopefully divert any suspicion that he DOES like you since he treats you the same as everyone else, only more)

or if he’d hold back more because he favors them LMFAOO

so imma write a lil bit for both

in the case that he was even stricter:

he’d prefer to be around you because he believes the best way he can make sure you stay out of trouble is to make sure you don’t get into any in the first place

of course it’s impossible to monitor you every second of every day but he does his best to make sure you’re doing well

if he sees you do anything out of line, he’s shutting that shit down IMMEDIATELY

but in the case he let up:

he’d still lecture you but noticeably less than the other students

if your feet were resting on top of a desk, he’d ask you to move them and then leave you alone rather than yell at you and forcibly move them himself

if you notice his behavior towards you in comparison to the other students do not tease him about it he will go as red as his eyes /hj

either way he’s confessing to you with a polite but exaggerated bow while holding out a well thought out letter with both hands

sayaka maizono

she will tell you

idk why but i feel like she’d be straight up lol

she’d make sure she’s sincere

she is the ultimate pop idol and all so she wants to make sure you know that she really does like you and isn’t playing a sick joke on you or anything

ok bc

while i do think she’d tell you

i’d feel like she’d be a little indirect just to see how you feel

like she’d give you a free ticket to one of her upcoming concerts with a kind smile

and naturally, you're like :o

and of course you come to support her

and seeing you smile at her from the crowd and cheer her on was the encouragement she needed to push her to ask you out

for real this time

she asks if you wanna come to a concert with her and ur like “oh yeah i love ur shows!!” bc ur dumb and then she��s like “no i mean.. for another artist” and eventually it hits you that she’s asking you out and ur like “oH YEAH YEAH SURE THAT SOUNDS GREAT YEAH OK” LMFAOO

———

i really hope that this is good LMFAOO this is my first time writing for dr so 😃👍🏾

fun fact i finished toko’s section first and taka’s last 😁😁

and i’d like to thank @mius-imagination @bloodygir n the rest of the discord for helping me figure some of these characters out *simultaneously whips and nae naes*

bye ive been working on this for like weeks this took forever

———

edit: here’s a deleted section bc i kept blanking for this character 😍

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metalbuckaroo · 3 years ago

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That Damn Ring

SUMMARY// Bucky doesn't know how to handle you leaving

WARNINGS// heavy angst, grieving bucky, bucky can't face reality, mentions of drunk driving, mentions of death, again- heavy angst.

AU// bucky barnes x f!reader

NOTE// this is not for everyone, I repeat, NOT FOR EVERYONE! If you're not comfy with this sorta thing, that's fine, keep on scrolling. I wrote this more for myself bc I was in the mood to break my own heart.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Bucky didn't know how to handle the things he was feeling. Spending days on end sitting in his cold apartment with the lights off, not even bothering to turn on the TV in fear it'd bring too much back.

Even if he'd turn the heat up as far as it would go, he just felt- cold.

He could hear you everywhere he went, feel you everywhere in his apartment that he once shared with you. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he swore he could feel your fingertips brushing his jaw again and could smell the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

Bucky kept everything in the same spot as when you'd left. Sleeping in his bed with his head buried in your pillow until his tears had washed away your scent, continuing to buy the same shampoo and soap you'd used so he could keep the smell around longer.

But none of it matched to the fact he could still hear your voice ringing around in his head. A sound he'd never get tired of as you'd tell him how much you loved him.

He swore he was going crazy. But, Sam had promised he'd eventually feel better at the thought of you. That he'd find someone who'd make him equally as happy to spend his life with.

Bucky couldn't even begin to imagine that. His life had already been thought out before, his whole future resting in the two bedroom apartment with his bit of peace that laid next to him every night, and every morning. Ready to soothe the pain of whatever nightmares had crept in throughout the night with such patience.

Even as Sam drove up the gravel drive, he couldn't seem to grip reality. Looking out of the tinted window as the vehicle crept closer to its stop.

"Do you need me to...?" Sam trailed, looking over at the brunette with sympathetic eyes. "No, I should probably go alone." Bucky sighed, looking at the dozen of your favorite flowers in his hand. Just like the ones that were now wilted in a vase in his kitchen.

Pushing the door open, Bucky followed the dirt path before sitting in the damp grass. Not caring if his pants got dirty or wet. He just needed to finally face truth he'd been denying for two months.

"I miss you."

He wished he was saying it to you and not the marbled stone in front of him. Wished he was handing the flowers directly to you as you smiled as bright as the first time he'd given you a flower he'd found on his walk to your apartment- not sitting them in the vase attached to the headstone.

Tears had already coated his cheeks, flowing freely from his watery eyes as he looked at your name carved so beautifully into the stone. He'd spent days picking it out after the accident.

He may not have been there when it happened, but he still blamed himself.

Blamed himself for the fact that he let you drive yourself to the restaurant instead of him taking you like every other anniversary.

All because he wanted to pick up that damn ring.

Even though alcohol didn't have an affect on him, he hadn't touched a drop since that day. The day he prayed and begged to whoever would listen to let you come back to him.

It took his three closest friends, Sam included, to keep him from going just down the hall and snapping the neck of the man who decided he was sober enough to drive that day. The man who got to live out the rest of his life while Bucky suffered from the loss of you and the same one who dared to show his face at the funeral.

He hadn't noticed the body shaking sobs that escaped his lips until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Sam sitting next to him in the grass.

"Everyone has their purpose. She lived her's." Sam assured, looking at the stone. "Her's wasn't done yet. She was suppose to be my wife- the mother of my kids. Now it's all gone." Bucky choked back a sob, twisting the ring that held no meaning to anyone but him on his right hand.

"Do you still have her rings?" Bucky shook his head, sniffing lightly as he looked at the freshly cut grass. "They're on her finger. Where they belong."

"I never got to give them to her, Sam. Never got to hear her answer, see her at our wedding. She's gone... She's gone and I don't know what to do." Bucky swallowed the swelling in his throat as he looked at his friend with red ringed eyes.

"What she'd want you to, Buck. Continue your life."

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky barnes self insert #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes heavy angst #cw: grave #cw: mentions of death #cw: drunk driving #cw: car accident

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euphhorias · 2 years ago

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and here we go again, another special day, so happy birthday nat @gimbapchefs !! the loveliest funniest warmest scorpio, another october baby, only a week apart, so hi be warned of the sappiness <3

dude, babe, (yes i’m calling u both), it’s been over a whole year already since we met and formed a wonderful friendship; ik we haven’t spoken in a while but can hopefully invigorate the dry dms 🫶🏼 even tho it’s been some time, ur still counted as one of my closest friends to come out of being in this army life, and our countless conversations about the tannies and life in general always hold a deep place in my heart 🧡 still haven’t forgotten about our mutual love for soju aksjksj so have a drink on me to celebrate; i’ll be having one in ur honor all the way from down under 🥂

i will say, ur very much missed here, on this site, seeing your hilarious tags and beautiful sets and perhaps you’ll come back one day (to see this letter which i’ll let u know about after posting 🤪), ur limited presence is felt but i hope life is treating u so fucking well and that ur the happiest you’ve ever been bc u absolutely deserve it 😘 when i think of u, it brings back memories of streaming in the soop and run behind in the black swan server; oh what FUN we had during those nights, tho afternoons for me bc timezones suck ass 😭 those hours spent together were so lovely, so sweet and make me smile whenever they pop up in my head; and honestly makes me miss u a lot, and hoping we can make more memories like that in the future ! which leads me to the possible seoul trip next year with kris !! still unsure if ur down for it but if u are, without a doubt, we’ll all be planning it and fingers crossed, meeting in such a place where seven boys brought us together, and get to give u that big hug, to make up for all the days and night we couldn’t 💜

to sum it up, i just really love u and really care about u and am so grateful to know u, and be a part of ur life and u be a part of mine ! and u are in my thoughts always, praying ur smiling, or finding a new food u enjoy, or are out and about with friends laughing, and just genuinely living every day to the fullest ✨ and it’s so good to see u popping into both servers every now and again, u see how we all show up to scream hi at u 🥰 to know ur doing good and being cute as hell as per usual (ur supertuna costume with lil rj had me SOBBING GIRL OMG) is a pleasure to see 🥺 may all ur dreams come to fruition this year, may u have more glorious moments and remember how adored u truly are 💖 alright i’m going to stop now but again happy birthday babes !! pls have the most amazing day, i love love u endlessly 😚🫰🏼🎁😇💛 xxx

#okay ik ur not here but i WILL alert u to this post lmao ily #hope u feel super happy and loved today nat bb !!!#nat 💌#moots 🍝

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butterbeerblurbs · 4 years ago

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feeling heavy in the strongest arms (f.w.)

💌 : today, your heart felt exceptionally heavy. fred holds your heart gently in his hands, willing to keep you in his arms even if he doesn’t know why you feel that way. as long as it makes you feel a little bit better, that was all fred was willing to take.

📝 word count: 1,786 words / fred weasley x reader / 🌸 ☔️ pretty sad feels but somewhat comforting...? idek

💬: i just pictured, this could be one of the way fred could comfort y/n when she’s feeling upset and there’s no direct reasoning (also bc i see fred as someone who’s sensible to someone’s emotions, especially someone he’s infatuated with ;w;)

from the moment fred’s eyes landed on you in the great hall to start off his morning, something didn’t quite sit right. sure, you gave him the usual smile that sends the tingles down his spine and the burst of warmth gently combusts within when he’s able to spare you a kiss on your cheek as you take your spot next to him but... still, something’s not right.

“g’morning pretty lady,” fred tries the playful method and anticipates for the usual look of “fake” disgust. it doesn’t happen. instead he gets a small smile, a chuckle, even though he feels like that’s the last thing you want to be doing.

“good morning, freddie,”

yet, fred doesn’t think it’s all that good.

he lets it slide, deciding not to bring it up in the morning when... maybe, just maybe, you didn’t sleep well? he’s hoping for that to be the case (because then it’s another excuse to take a nap together) but... no. when hermione asks if you slept well, you said you slept like a baby. you slept through angelina’s bloody snoring. that only meant you did sleep well.

if it’s not sleep then... hm... could it be-”oi, what are you doing? thinking about eating your own girlfriend for breakfast instead of what’s in front of you?”

fred turns to a mirror of himself, raising a brow with a smirk, “do you really want me to answer that, georgie?”

george gags and looks away, “merlin, you’re going to make me vomit out what i just ate,”

fred hears your voice laughing at what you’ve managed to hear between him and his twin. but when he glances back and locks eyes with you for a moment, he still doesn’t buy that everything’s alright.

said ginger boy is still confused as the day continues.

he’s had hours to ponder upon this and the more he observes from you, the more confused he gets. his answers doesn’t match up with the way you were acting (yes, he has been staring at you for a rather long time than doing actual work). it’s like... you were fine? but not really? fine to the eyes of the public, tip-top shape but... nothing about you gets past fred weasley.

absolutely nothing. not when he’s spent days upon months that gathered into the years of learning about you, still surprising himself how much he’s able to love you more each day.

this... this was new.

he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. he’ll continue thinking about it if it wasn’t for-”mr. weasley, maybe you’ll be able to produce something of worth if you actually did the work,” snape’s voice stiffen’s fred’s spine, and snape’s hand physically pushes the nape of his neck down to get to work.

he’ll get down to this soon enough... after potion’s, it seems.

surprisingly, fred manages to complete the task just in time for snape to barely let him scrape out of his classroom. fred anticipates he’ll have to rush after you as he collects his things but-”you alright, freddie?”

that voice makes him almost drop his book, missing his bag by an inch as he snaps his head towards the source of who that voice belonged to.

he gapes when you’re standing in front of him with a small smile, books to your chest and bag over your shoulder. you came to check up on him. even when it seems like the world has been unfairly cruel to you, you, still proved the world wrong with such kindness fred thinks you must be an actual angel.

“y-y/n,” he gapes, and that’s starting to-”you’re scaring me, freddie, are you alright?”

he runs his hand through his hair and stares at you, bewildered. however, he is thankful that the room is now empty as the remaining couple of students flutter out. “how?”

he hates how you look genuinely confused as your brows knit together, a pout forming whenever you felt unsure about something.

“h-how what?”

“how could you ask me that? how?” he shoves his book into his bag and leaves it on the stool, now both hands freely extending towards you to give you a gentle shake by your sides, “how can you ask me that when you’re the one not feeling okay?”

like a switch, fred watches as the facade you’ve been putting up all morning seems to crumble. he notices it starts with your breath hitching, which then slowly trails off to how your eyes appear sharp, suddenly blurry with the tell-tales of tears glassing over. fred could see himself frowning in them, and he absolutely hates the gut-wrenching feeling that swallows him whole.

even when you’re about to cry, there’s still a smile on your face.

“i-i can’t seem to hide anything from you, huh fred weasley?”

fred takes this moment to slip your books past your hands, nudging them onto the table. you allow your bag to slip from your shoulders as he tries to keep you close. and he doesn’t know if he’s doing that for your sake, or his.

“i... i feel heavy, freddie,” your voice barely makes it out to him, but it does. and each word is breaking his heart as he watches you try to explain your feelings that you weren’t completely sure of yourself. “it’s like... there’s a weight on my heart, pressing me down and i-”you lick your lips, tasting the saltiness trickling down you cheeks-”-i... feel so heavy, my heart feels so heavy,” you’re clutching onto the fabric of your robe directly above your heart, “it hurts so much, and i don’t even know why,” your voice is strained, stretched out across acres of trying to figure out why you feel like this but to no avail.

“i was feeling okay when i woke up this morning,” your lips are quivering at this point, sniffing as the tears can’t seem to stop, “why does it feel like my world has turned upside down all of a sudden?” fred knows you’re not asking him for the answer, rather, if there was a cruel higher up that was playing mind games with you, that was surely where your questions were directed to.

“i-i have everything, maybe not everything entirely but i should be happy,” you breathed in and out heavily, feeling your knees shaking, “and i am, genuinely am, but today,” fred doesn’t know since when you were out of breath, “m-my heart aches so much,”

fred flinches when you blink up to him, tears falling like your heart at the unexplainable weight that made its way without you noticing. he holds you tight, almost crushing you as he keeps you close to him like it’s the only thing he knows how to comfort you now. your hands don’t even make it around him, only going so far up to his waist to clutch onto the material of his robe hanging by his sides. he closes his eyes and gently strokes the back of your head, attempting to ease your sobs against his chest. he’ll willingly soak all of your tears, sadness, any ill feelings if he could. but knowing he can’t, if this could make you a little bit better or ease just a portion of the weight you were feeling, that’s as much as he’s grateful for.

it feels like an eternity ticked by but in reality it’s a mere ten minutes. your erratic breathing has calmed down from the nosedive of emotions you displayed that it’s starting to make you blush a little. fred only notices this when you’ve gone extremely quiet. he leans back just a little to peek at you, not only with red puffy eyes but also red cheeks.

“what’s the matter, love?” he asks softly, dipping down to get a glance at your eyes that seem too shy to meet with his now.

“i... i’m sorry, this was a lot to take in and... i just realised how much it was,” your tone was different this time. it registered to fred that... this was a tone he recognized. one of your hands remain holding to his robe, while the other reaching up to lightly punch his chest.

it may sound ridiculous but fred could hear yourself coming back. he could feel the aura around your changing.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry, y/n. you’re absolutely mad if you feel that now,” he raises a brow at you, “after all you just said? and cried? are you crazy?”

that makes you giggle - a genuine one, fred thinks - hands gingerly crawling around him to finally return the long-awaited hug.

“well... it’s... it’s not everyday you suddenly have to deal with your girlfriend bursting into tears and have no specific reason for it,” your voice is still raspy and sore from all the crying, but fred could pick out the syllables that gesture to him sonically that you were feeling better.

“i’d gladly take all of that in if it means i’m helping you overcome it,” he proudly puffs his chest out with that grin on his face but it also makes your heart swell at how much love you could feel he’s pouring just from the way he’s staring at you.

“thank you, freddie,” you lean forward to tuck yourself into his embrace, cheek against his chest. you can hear him smile as he squeezes you, then sway your bodies idly as he hums back, “don’t need to thank me, love,”

as the pair of you stay like that in silence (only for a few more minutes before you’d have to hurry along for the day), it’s like there’s an understanding that fred can’t possibly lift the weight up entirely for you. these were your emotions, after all.

but that doesn’t mean fred can’t stay with you as you get through them.

hand in hand, chest to chest.

((”promise if you want to cry, you’ll come to me? or at least, come see me after?” fred didn’t give you room to answer as he squishes your cheeks, towering over you with concerned eyes even though you're laughing, “yes, love? is that a yes? if you’re laughing like a goddess sent from above, i’ll take that as a yes!”

he was having a bit of trouble trying to push your cheeks together when you were grinning so wide, it’s making his heart do somersaults. not even the groaning of people at the common room could divert him away. (the both of you were, afterall, just mere steps away from them when you’re just by the stairs)

“yes, freddie, promise.”

“atta girl.” he winks, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he watches you go up to your room.))

#fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #harry potter fanfics #fred weasley imagines #fluff #angst

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chocosvt · 4 years ago

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⚬ pairing: ghost!jihoon x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 9242 ⚬ warnings: abusive relationship, suicide ⚬ genres: heavy angst, romance, ample fluff

✧✎ synopsis: freedom was a word that had completely lost its meaning - unable to escape from a toxic relationship, you can only find happiness upon confiding in jihoon, the spirit of a writer who died a century ago.

✧✎ a/n: SORRY this took so long to post! i have a habit of holding onto completed fics for a while, bc i feel the need to endlessly proofread. i rly appreciate everyone’s patience :D

You didn’t understand him. You hated him.

You wanted to conjure a pair of scissors and cut the invisible rope that connected your piteous relationship. Tight around your wrist, you could still feel the indents left by his fingernails, how they pushed blunt into your skin like a stamp to a liquid, wax seal. There was no taste of freedom unless you left him, and yet, you lacked the strength, instead rotting in your own indolence.

The doorway to your cottage home burst open as you thundered inside. Smells of the cinnamon bread and ginger tea you had for breakfast lingered in the air, when the morning was soft and you were unaware of his incoming anger that would inevitably cumulate. Gleaming on the edge of the kitchen table was an old pocket mirror, a century-dull shade of gold with a rose engrained into its shallow dome.

Within the next moment, you were sitting inside your closet, frustrated tears pooling slowly down each cheek as you held onto an ignited candle. The flame rippled and danced in response to your ragged breaths. It was the only source of light, for darkness pressed in from every angle. Hands shaky, you set the candle to crackle on the floor, behind the pocket mirror you had opened. Looking into its small reflection, you saw the wet flakes of mascara stuck to your skin, how your lips were so bitten they became mottled with blood spots.

“If I ask for you,” you sighed, eyes falling shut, “will you come to me?”

You waited and listened to the dancing wick, then snuck a peak at the mirror.

Nothing.

Inhaling a deep breath, you closed your eyes and warbled again: “If I ask for you, will you come to me?”

The mirror was still open, casting an image of your broken countenance, marred by viscid trails of tears and a patience that turned thinner than the air itself. Every mark, every scratch left by his fingernails only sunk further into your wrist, establishing this control he had over you, until one day, his reign might become permanent. The thought forced you to hiccup a burning sob.

“Please!” You whimpered, tasting the sharp salt on your lips, “If I ask for you, will you come to me?”

Snap.

The sound of the pocket mirror being shut was accompanied by an overwhelming sensation of cold, like an arctic breath had just been exhaled into your face. Cautiously, you eyed the candle, in which its flame had stopped dancing and instead stood tall, almost as though it were afraid to flicker. The gentle light glinted off the mirror’s gold dome. At last, you picked your head up and met his eyes, honey-brown, like crisped sugar.

The noise that crawled up from your throat was a feeble squeak.

“Jihoon.” You said his name.

Even though each syllable felt like solace, that didn’t smooth the tremors in between. Unlike your boyfriend who was so assailing in nature and unreceptive to your heart, Jihoon read the pain from your body like it had been scrawled with thick ink. He reached out his hand for you to grab.

Head bent down, tears streaming toward your chin, you cried to him in that small halo of light, squeezing his glacial fingers, crushing his bones, yet he never protested or shook you off.

You had asked for him. And if it’s you, then Jihoon will always be there.

“A peach?” Jihoon murmured, staring at the sunset colour of the fruit in his palm. “I haven’t eaten a peach since… Since…”

“Since a century ago?”

Jihoon looked up at you, his face illuminated by the wax candle. “Yeah.”

He seemed hesitant to sink his teeth past the fuzzy, orange flesh, and kept stealing oblique glances at you. Wiping away a delicious trail of juice that streaked your chin, you encouraged him to just take a bite and stop ogling the fruit like it was plucked from outer space.

A peach was nowhere close to the strangest item you’d brought him. In fact, the sole manner in which Jihoon could connect with the simple indulgences of when he’d been alive was through you.

At first, he sighed, followed by slight apprehension, and then he stopped prevaricating. Jihoon brought the peach to his mouth and buried in his teeth, a loud slurp indicating he’d suckled out the juice just before tearing away a reasonable chunk. He chewed, chewed a little bit more, crinkled his nose and continued chewing. You raised an eyebrow once he swallowed, curious if its sweetness still held true to when he’d eaten the fruit in his youth.

“Not bad. Rather messy.” Jihoon rated with little mirth, his tongue then licking at a trail of liquid dripping to his wrist.

You eyed him whilst taking another bite into your own fruit.

The next time you met, you brought him purple orchids, wrapped in a crinkly, pale mint packaging. He buried his nose into their petals and took a breath. Jihoon had long forgotten the rain, it’s scent, but that’s exactly what the aroma reminded him of.

It was close to midnight, the autumn wetness clinging in a sheer mist, a cobweb almost, that drifted down the road. You stared into the fog, wondering if it might swath around you until you couldn’t see or breathe, only to thin away at the last moment, revealing a place that was warm and brushed with sunshine. There would be no boyfriend, no pain or fear, and you’d have freedom— a word that seemed to have lost its meaning as time wore its grit against you.

Leaning into the side of your boyfriend’s car, you watched him pace back and forth next to the gas pump, cellphone at his ear, occasionally tossing his head back in a splitting chortle whilst he blew plumes from a cigarette. A light rain pattered against the roof of the gas station.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to be tucked in bed, beneath sheets that smelled like summer lilacs. You wanted to close your eyes and dream about the phantom boy who lived in the closet, where your fingers would trace his skin and you might feel the heat from his blood. Yet you lacked bravery. Taking one look at your wrist constantly sore from his steel grip was enough to snuff out any defying fire. He laughed again, kicked his boot into the gravel, brought the cigarette up to his mouth in order to fulfill a toxic addiction.

Headlights suddenly pierced through the mist and tires rolled against the damp pavement. You thought about running onto the road with your arms flailing, hoping the driver would pull over and let you into their vehicle. They might ask where you wanted to go.

You’d say, “just get me away from him. Anywhere, I’m begging.”

“Hey!”

Turning your head, you saw him stalking toward you. In an unconscious attempt to give yourself space, you unpeeled from the vehicle and a took a step back, intimidated.

“Get in the car,” he spat, opening the driver’s side, “m’taking you home.”

With the decaying cigarette hanging from his lips, cellphone now stowed into his pants pocket, he slammed the door. The air inside the vehicle was acrid, stifling, ashes tumbling onto his lap as the engine revved to life. Grey smoke prickled against your eyes until they lined with water and glass. Just before you exited the gas station, your boyfriend rolled down his window and tossed the cigarette, only to reveal another from the glove compartment.

Sticking the wand in his mouth, he tossed you the lighter.

“Spark.” He demanded.

Your whole arm was trembling whilst you positioned the lighter close to the cigarette, thumb pressing down in an anxious flurry, teeth grinding together as you piously prayed the stupid flame would just blossom already so he wouldn’t get foul. Once he exhaled the first puff and took back the lighter, you sunk into the upholstery, hoping he didn’t see your tears.

“Jihoon?”

The boy had been occupied pulling pink tufts of cotton candy apart. The last time you two met within the closet, you were discussing an autumn carnival that took place each year in your town, how you spent the night with a pocket full of tickets and sugar floss melting against your tongue. Jihoon said he couldn’t remember the taste, the smell, the texture, so you promised to bring him a large bag stuffed with cotton candy. He glanced up at you, candlelight swimming in his eyes like a brightly coloured coy fish.

“What did you write about?”

He paused. Then, Jihoon was sitting with a straight spine, rubbing his index finger and thumb together, as though he were attempting to lure an ancient memory from hiding. You wondered if he missed literature, how a ballpoint pen glides across cream paper, the specific click that echoes from a typewriter, running fingertips across a leathered hardcover just to feel every bump and divot. You wished it was possible to read one of his books. He told you he burned them all, every page disintegrating into dust and cinders.

Jihoon looked at the last clump of cotton candy in his hands.

Delicately, he tore the floss in two pieces. Something deep inside your chest fluttered when Jihoon gave you the other tuft.

“Love.” He said, finding the vivacious reflection in your eyes, “I wrote about love.”

As a child, the darkness used to scare you. It was impossible to fall asleep without the dim glow of your aquarium or the fluorescent stars tacked to your ceiling. Things looked different in the dark, they became unfamiliar and colourless and shapeshifted into malignant creations that stopped moving only when the light touched them. Even now, the darkness was still harrowing, but you’d grown to realize that tenebrosity was much scarier when it lived inside human beings.

No light existed which could freeze them in their intent to hurt, no light which transformed them back into the coat over the back of your chair or the laundry pile lumped in its basket. And as you sat next to Jihoon on the closet floor, his gaze thoughtlessly wandering to your wrist, he knew you’d give anything to stay in the dark closet if it meant you never had to see your boyfriend again. You kept rubbing at your skin, squeezing in an anxious pattern.

“Stop.” Jihoon couldn’t stand to watch you repeat yourself. It felt like you were going to erase the flesh clean off.

“It helps.” You told him, though your argument was inconceivably frail, emaciated.

Suddenly, Jihoon reached across the space, his fingers falling over your wrist to bump away your pesky hand. The second you were unable to scrub at the fingernail indents, the scratches, the dull throb of every bruise he’d ever printed upon your skin, the breath died in your throat and there was a stinging sensation that burnt your eyes. Your boyfriend had ruined you. The wounds controlled you, left you in prostration and agony.

Before you could erupt into tears, Jihoon’s thumb began stroking back and forth over a fading scratch, a rhythmic movement, one that managed to calm you down until the tears slowly dried up and the flame no longer illuminated the glossiness of your eyes. He urged you to take a breath whilst he continued to brush soft reassurances across your skin. At first, you were offended by Jihoon’s interference, even slightly angered.

But the way he was so gentle with you brought you to capitulate.

“I’d never try to hurt you.” Jihoon whispered when you caught his gaze in the candlelight.

“I know.” You sighed, placing your hand over top his, “thank you.”

Your hands curled around the handlebars of the bicycle, slightly raised from the uncomfortable seat as you pedalled into town that autumn morning. An impending cold front gushed from the north, sweeping against your face in a harsh frigidity that caressed away any remnants of sleep. Tucking your chin into the fleece of your pullover, you stopped pedalling and allowed the bicycle to simply glide, maneuvering over the small pebbles and gorges in the cement.

A familiar house at the end of the block became closer, closer, closer, to which you bit down on your cheek’s inner flesh, your knuckles tensing like they could burst from the thin covering of skin. You stared straight ahead. It was too early for him to be outside. He was too lethargic.

Or was he?

“Hey!”

You’d been caught, a disarrayed haze momentarily warping your vision. The tires skidded to a halt on the sidewalk, your sneaker touching the ground whilst the northern wind nipped at your cheeks. He sat on his porch, wearing a burly-looking coat that appeared to be seldom washed, a flimsy cigarette perched at the corner of his mouth. Blowing a weak cloud of smoke from between his lips, he gestured for you to approach him, and your heart dropped.

Step by step, you walked the bicycle up his driveway, a few scarlet leaves from an oak tree spiralling down and colouring the gravel. Not even their warm tint could sugar coat that wicked, tight-lipped smile dancing from one spot of his mouth to the other. It was like the devil sat behind him, a myriad of strings on his fingers, and he was pulling each and every one.

“Where’re you off to, sunshine?”

“Into town. I’m getting some groceries.”

His eyes, bloodshot, much too hollowed at the early hour, gave you a once-over. You felt the sponge in your bones deflate. If a person’s stare could be washed from your skin, then you’d find the nearest hot shower and lock yourself inside.

He tapped some ash off his cigarette. “You don’t need to do that now, do you?”

“I-It’s a good time, actually. It won’t be busy.”

Don’t break down, don’t break down, do not let him infiltrate.

In an abasing fashion, your boyfriend laughed, like it was impossible to fathom that you could uphold a life, responsibilities, independence, beyond him and his fallacy of omniscience. He stood up and took another hit of nicotine from the cigarette. Then he was balancing the wand between his teeth, smiling down at you again, the devil’s strings metallic and unbreaking.

“Come inside,” he said, tipping his head toward the door, “leave your bike and we’ll share a nice drink, sunshine.”

You knew through mistake that it would be an unkind fate to deny him. Resting your bicycle against the porch, you trailed a few steps behind him into the house. Just before you closed the door, you drew in a long breath, examining the leaves on the oak tree, feeling that crisp air touch your face, looking up at small gaps of morning light between the grey clouds.

You always tried to remember the natural world, just in case you prematurely became a part of it.

Jihoon had set the notepad overtop his knee, one hand holding the papers still whilst the other clasped a black pen. Upon waiting for him to finish his prose, you fidgeted with the gold pocket mirror, pressing the edge of your nail into its infinitesimal grooves that created the rose. Time and time again, you wondered about the pocket mirror, a robust relic from the nineteen-twenties that the boy had gifted you.

“Done.” Jihoon announced, lifting the pen from the notepad.

The candle was rather inept at providing sufficient light, though you managed to read his looped, cursive writing with a surprising ease, with familiarity, like the words had been from a love letter you read every dusk.

Peaches and cotton candy are sweet. Orchids smell like rain. Scratches can fade.

You smiled at him. The inside of your chest was warmer than a July heatwave. After exchanging the gold mirror for the pen, you brainstormed a set of prose to match his. Jihoon had never looked at his reflection since he was alive, when oxygen still pumped to his heart and his veins hadn’t been replaced with frost. Suddenly, an idea sparked, and you wrote quickly.

Once you handed him back the notepad, he returned the mirror.

I’ll admire you so that you don’t have to. I’ll keep your beauty alive.

He circled the pen between his fingers. With knees pressed tight against your chest, you watched Jihoon’s teeth sink into his bottom lip before he hunched over the notepad, printing a line of clean cursive. Out of all the items you’d brought him, this seemed to be his favourite.

Jihoon passed you the notepad.

Letting the pocket mirror sit between your crossed legs, you held the paper close to your face, hoping it would help conceal the flustered grin.

If I had a second life, I would find you. I would take you away from the pain you have now.

“I wish you had a second life too.” You told Jihoon in a delicate, almost trembling voice. “I wish I could bring you into my life, even if it were just for one night.”

The boy nodded whilst he stared at the wax candle, one that a priest let you take home after you spent a visit to the church, hoping to discover some sense of purpose, some form of guidance. That was two years ago. Even though you had thanked the priest for the candle, it seemed completely useless. Or so you thought. Now, it was the only way you could differentiate every detail of Jihoon’s face, his skin constantly basked in a golden aurora.

“I think…” Jihoon murmured, sitting up slowly and staring into the warm light, “I think there is a way.”

Something seemed to be revolving in his mind, something that planted hope in your belly, and as he explained to you the procedure, you hadn’t realized his fingers gradually interlacing with yours.

The night of October thirty-first, that was the only sliver in which Jihoon could ever separate from the closet, the cottage house, and reacquaint himself with the earthy air and moonlight. It was the only time when the barrier between the human realm and spirit realm was significantly thin enough. Jihoon stood in your bedroom, dressed in an auburn, corduroy button-up vest, the sleeves of his white dress shirt cuffed to his elbows, his trousers hemmed along the leg.

Could those be the same clothes he wore upon taking his own life? You were always curious, though refrained from acting too inquisitive. The boy suddenly reached into his right pants pocket, shifting his fingers as though he were attempting to fish something out, until he glanced at the gold dome in your hand and a pink dust developed along the arch of his cheeks. These days, you’d been holding onto his mirror like it was a personal ligament.

He shrugged. “Old habit.”

Jihoon followed you into the living room. Whilst you tossed on a water-proof jacket and wriggled each foot into a pair of degrading tennis sneakers, the boy paused just in front of the fireplace. He touched the crimson brick, then stuck out two ice-cold palms. The embers were radiant and warm. They drew a beautiful glow to his skin. If Jihoon felt the energy of the heat, he didn’t express it. You stuffed the mirror into your pocket and called for him.

There was a slight drag as Jihoon seemed hesitant to part from the flames, twirling and alive, like he’d been trying to seek for a lost artifact that might still remain amongst the ashes.

“Nothing is the same.”

With his head constantly pivoting in order to gauge every detail, Jihoon seemed to realize that the town he moved into during the last century was starkly and scarily different. Houses now built over cobalt roads, where the wealthy had once let exhaust tumble from the pipes of their timely vehicles. A shopping centre stuck the middle of what was once a cornfield, always rife with healthy, luminous green stalks during the balmy summers. His favourite diner, where he used to gather all his papers and write until his pen lost its ink, listening to revolving tunes on the jukebox, had been replaced by a furniture store.

Jihoon didn’t sound upset, but jaded perhaps.

He’d moved from his homeland, Busan, South Korea, at twenty years old, taking with him little to no belongings apart from some clothes and a pocket mirror his girlfriend had gifted him. He desired a meaningful existence with his writing, hoping to make something, be somebody.

And yet, three years after leaving Busan, Jihoon had killed himself in his cottage home.

“A lot can change in a hundred years. Good and bad. ” You sighed whilst waiting at a crosswalk.

The boy shivered due to the crisp, autumn wind. “It appears so.”

He then clenched his teeth together. “Say, do you think I could get some new clothes? These have a few holes. They’re scratchy too.”

You glanced at the enormous, neon sign anchored to the shopping centre across the street.

“I think I can help you out.”

For the first time in a century, Jihoon stared at himself in a mirror. It was a tall, thin mirror stuck to a changeroom door. His decaying articles were folded on the bench, faintly stitched with the scent of wood pyres and dust and potent ink. It took Jihoon less than a minute to discover his new clothes, a dark blue hoodie and black sweatpants. The hoodie swallowed his upper-half. He seemed comfortable, warm, his fingers rubbing the inside of the fleece sleeve.

In a peculiar way, it hurt.

He no longer held the appearance of a middleclass writer who’d burn out his cigars on paper, always had a whisky shot coursing through his blood, some ash from the fireplace constantly rubbed to his cheek. He had no longer just stepped through a time portal into the most recent era. Instead, Jihoon looked like a student you might brush shoulders with before a lecture, or a modest stranger who’d catch your eye at a party.

If only Jihoon had actually been that stranger, rather than the boyfriend you have now.

“Don’t let go of my hand.”

You asked Jihoon wearily whilst stepping onto a cement ledge next to the sidewalk. Truthfully, it wasn’t that high. Truthfully, you just wanted feel his cold touch caress your skin.

He blinked up at your figure, the moonlight glowing behind you, outlining you in a silver, narrow frame.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Once you were steadied on the ledge, you began placing one foot in front of the other, taking attentive steps that had little to no breadth, and yet they felt like immeasurable strides. Jihoon held your fingers with a sweet pressure. You were almost near the end of the ledge when that autumn wind decided to ripple hard and fierce, and as you braced against the current, you lost your balance. With a small shriek you nearly stumbled over the edge.

Jihoon didn’t waver. His hands fastened upon your waist and he caught you in his arms, feeling your heartbeat that drummed through your chest and into his.

“W-Whoops…” Your laughter was anxious, embarrassed.

Never having been pressed against each other before, there was slight uneasiness. There was racing thoughts and cotton-hearts, a fleeting catch of the other’s eye and faces so close that you shared the same breath. His hands cupped at your waist; your palms flat against his shoulders. If you kissed him, would he taste like a Cuban cigar? Or a soft, warm peach grown beneath summer sunshine? Jihoon thought you smelled like an orchid.

However, you both peeled away from each other.

“Wait—” you remarked before continuing down the sidewalk, “you promised not to let go of my hand.”

Jihoon intertwined your fingers, his thumb smoothing quickly over the ridges of your knuckles.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

The stars burned in their own soot, twinkling intermittently and spread apart across the blackness. Some were passionate and lurid, whilst others were dim, barely there, only glistering to indicate that their radiance still lived. You sat next to Jihoon on the train station bench, the heated rim of a paper cup touching your lips, stained with hot chocolate. After taking a sip and feeling the velvet against your throat, you handed him the drink.

Upon purchasing Jihoon’s new cloths, you’d emptied all the bills wadded in your pocket. A small palm of coins remained and you counted them aside to buy two train tickets in addition to a hot chocolate. The tip of his nose was slightly pinkish from the cold. His eyes focused on the steam, which he impatiently dispersed by forming his lips into a tiny O shape. You continued exchanging the cup until there was nothing more than a ring of wet cocoa powder at the base.

Jihoon began softly bumping his knee against yours whilst you waited for the train. He seemed unaware, though you couldn’t be certain. He had quite the array of small, endearing habits.

Suddenly, you felt a slight vibration inside your coat pocket. And then another, another, and one more after that. Once you slid out the device, something that was thicker than dread surrounded you, absorbing every ray of starlight. His snarl jeered at you through the texts.

[11:15PM | DO NOT ANSWER]: Why haven’t you responded to me?

[11:15PM | DO NOT ANSWER]: Where are you??

[11:15PM | DO NOT ANSWER]: What did I tell you about going out and not saying anything?

[11:15PM | DO NOT ANSWER]: You don’t just fucking do something like that.

You could already feel his ironclad grip suctioned around your wrist, his fingernails submerging into your flesh, carving out new scratches to replace the ones that had faded.

In the distance, you heard the train rattling and smelled the burning coal. You stuffed the phone into your pocket and pretended the texts were non-existent, yet, that characteristic glint in your eyes was much too candour. How was there a point in pretending when you gave away your own lies?

“Come on,” Jihoon stood from the bench, his breath ghosting into the nighttime air, “you have the tickets ready?”

As the train slowed to a trill halt, you nodded, revealing the two tickets from your pocket.

“Good, good.” He gently traced his fingertips down the back of your wrist before encompassing your hand in his. Jihoon squeezed firmly, leaned into your ear where his breath was ticklish.

Somehow, you didn’t feel afraid anymore when he whispered, “let’s go home, alright? I’ll help warm you up and we’ll go to bed together.”

The conductor accepted your tickets with a tight-lipped smile, and Jihoon’s fingers played with yours whilst the man readied his hole-punch. For some reason, your eyes drifted to the side of the boy’s neck, where ever so faintly, a reddish-pink scar curled around his pearl skin. It was the first time you ever noticed the mark now that Jihoon was no longer blanketed in the closet’s meagre light. The mark seemed painful, like something had been taunt against his windpipe.

You knew Jihoon had taken his own life three years after leaving the comfort and familiarity of Busan. You knew Jihoon had a girlfriend back in his hometown that he wanted to marry. He put love on hold to become a writer. He sacrificed everything yet gained nothing.

The universe was awfully typical.

Upon exhaling a soft breath through your nose, eyelids droopy from the drowsiness, you rested your temple against Jihoon’s shoulder during the train ride home. He must have thought you’d fallen asleep, for his fingertips brushed sweetly against your exposed cheek, his lips pressing to the top of your forehead, leaving behind the warmth of a tender kiss. Jihoon’s touch was always cool, yet it translated into heat.

Forcibly, you gulped down a surprised cough. You knew that was what an intimate relationship should be.

It was more so the fact you had never experienced it.

You kissed the boy’s jaw. His shoulder became rigid, though you were smiling with eyes shut tighter than a locket.

Jihoon mumbled lowly against your forehead, “you were supposed to be asleep.”

Refusing to open your eyes, somewhat petrified that gazing upon his face would further embolden just how attached were to him, you simply shook your head.

“I am asleep. I talk in my sleep. I’m sleep-talking.”

“Do you kiss people in your sleep too?”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Because I thought you were asleep.”

“I am aslee—”

Jihoon’s palm gently cupped overtop your mouth, muffling the syllables. Your laughter was hot against his skin, and your eyes finally opened. No, you didn’t want to fall asleep. It just meant that the next morning Jihoon would be gone.

You removed the little mirror from your jacket and placed it on the night table, then pulled the cloth curtains shut as though you were going to disrobe. However, you only removed your jacket and flung off your bra, much too cognisant of your dwindling time with Jihoon, afraid that even changing into your pyjamas would waste the precious minutes. He observed each of your movements as he lounged on his side, taking up the left half of your bed.

How long had it been since he last sunk into a mattress, since he last had a warm body to share the space with?

Jihoon stared at the dull, golden dome of the pocket mirror. He remembered his past lover’s face, the pain she attempted to make imperceptible as Jihoon stood with only a single luggage case at the Gyeongbu Line station. It was the nearing the terminal of nineteen-seventeen.

His twentieth birthday had transpired only a week ago.

“Just come back, alright?” She had been thumping her fists lightly against his chest, long strands of black hair draping her cheeks, “promise you’ll come back to me?”

“I promise, Jieun. Everything I am is you.”

He framed her beautiful face in his hands, kissed her slowly, wanted to permanently grain the taste of her lip gloss against his taste buds as well as the powdery notes of her perfume. Before he could leave, she slipped her gold, shiny mirror into his hand, a momentum, a memory, something that would preserve her significance to him.

Three years after leaving Busan and Jihoon would only remove the mirror from his pocket so that he could polish the surface. He wrote her love letters, filled every one of his notebooks with limerence-indulgent poems until the twine could no longer keep the pages from bulging open. His typewriter clicked from every pale-yellow morning to the midnight crickets. Being in love felt like a high. He dreamed of their wedding, their first house, a baby tucked in their arms.

Three years later and Jihoon’s rotary phone started wildly buzzing. It was his best friend, Soonyoung. He was sobbing, pouring out hiccups and inarticulate fragments that Jihoon could hardly understand. It wasn’t until the impatient boy snapped at him to clear his nose and take a breath that those words pulled taunt and impaled straight through Jihoon’s heart like a crossbow. There was no blood, and yet it seemed to fill his lungs and bubble thickly in his throat.

“I’ve been sleeping with Jieun. For almost a year now. I had to tell you. It’s eating me alive.”

That same day, Jihoon received a postcard with a picture of cheerful Songdo beach, a place they had often visited to walk the waterline, wondering about their future The back was blanketed in Jieun’s rushed, tear-stained handwriting.

It was true.

They both admitted it.

In that cottage home, Jihoon threw a match into the brick fireplace. Every poem, every notebook, every piece of literature he’d ever written were gradually enveloped and burnt up by the monstrous flames. An hour later and he was standing in his closet, an apple crate under his feet and a segment of durable rope in his hands. The fire continued to crackle in the living room whilst the smoke drifted from the chimney. Buried in his pocket was the gold rose mirror.

In due time, the flames had become the only live part of the house.

As Jihoon continued to stare at the mirror sitting on your night table, he was consistently poked with a truth that made him ache so terribly: his spirit could only be freed if the mirror broke.

But if the mirror broke, there was no possible method for you to contact him. Jihoon could not be summoned, and in no way, shape, or form could he interact with your life, rather he’d be an invisible observer with infinite freedom. This became information he never shared. The conflict was too saturated, and as much as Jihoon despised his condemnation to that dark little space, it was how he discovered you. He’d quickly learned you didn’t have freedom either.

Your freedom only seemed to develop in the presence of each other.

Suddenly, the bed dipped. Jihoon snapped from his musing. The sheets wrinkled below your hands and knees as you crawled toward him, eyes sleepy, intent to create the comfortable position where the curve of your spine was seamless with his front. When your gaze flitted downward, you spotted Jihoon’s hand resting on your hipbone. He waited, and you grinned.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “I want you closer. Please?”

Jihoon’s small huff tickled your ear whilst he slid his palm flat under your t-shirt. It stilled, pressing to your abdomen, the cold of his fingers meeting your soft warmth. His thumb began drawing strokes just under your navel, to which your eyes fluttered shut and a calm sigh rose in your chest. Somehow, you wanted to preserve this moment, like how petals could be sealed inside an amber stone so that their beauty never degraded. Jihoon’s hand etched further up your torso, his fingertips tracing the supple underside of your breast.

He kissed that tender sweet spot just below your ear, until your eyes opened, gaze falling directly onto the pocket mirror. Aside from the intense heat, another sensation overwhelmed you, and with a breath that was nothing short of unease you looked back over your shoulder at the boy who’d be gone by morning.

“I don’t want you to leave,” your voice emerged in a telling crack, “I need you.”

Jihoon shook his head. Leaning forward, his lips brushed yours in a gentle kiss.

“I’m not leaving. You know that. I’m always here.”

The tears brimmed your eyes. “N-No, I need you out here. In physicality. Not just in a c-closet.”

Your emotions mimicked a violet insurrection, where they could not be quelled no matter how fiercely you took your bottom lip under your teeth, or how rapidly you blinked, hoping the liquid would retract itself. Instead, they flowered in one big uprooting. You suckled in a sharp inhalation that gave them even more fuel and greed.

“Dammit—I didn’t want to cry, but I c-can’t help it!” You covered your eyes with your palms. “I had so much fun with you tonight, Jihoon – I just don’t want this to end. I don’t want to have this pain. My happiness is ripped away every time I see him. I want it to be you but it’s not!”

The boy tugged at your wrists, urging you to uncover yourself. He succeeded at catching your eyes despite how distorted they were with water.

“Relax, alright?” He cooed, his face hovering over yours. “Let yourself breathe.”

The backs of his fingers brushed up and down your far cheek. Before a tear could roll onto his thumb Jihoon had already pecked it away. Heeding his words, you drew in a slow breath and felt the coolness fill each lung, all whilst he comforted you using a benign hand.

“You have me. You’ll always have me. Whether I’m palpable or not doesn’t change that.”

“I-I know…” It squeaked out with little conviction, “If I couldn’t have that mirror, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Jihoon traced his thumb below your teary eye. “You’d be fine, even without the mirror.”

He was met with a doubtful glance.

“Trust me,” his reverence shone through each word, “whenever you speak to me, I will always listen. Even if you can’t see me, or grab my hand. Even if you feel completely alone. I will always hear you. It seems unlikely, but it’s true.”

Honesty consumed the boy’s gaze. His reassurance was akin to a sewing needle that wove back together the collapsing fabric of your heart.

Jihoon’s tone then became even more earnest, and your eyes burned into his.

“I love you. It’s a bit cheap of me to say that considering my circumstances, but I need you to know that having met you… You reunited me with what love is, when I thought it was impossible to feel it again. Life is cruel. We can’t be together in the way we want. I can’t steal you away from him and make you mine no matter how badly I wish I could.”

His fingers paused atop your cheek. Jihoon swallowed and pressed his forehead to yours.

“It’s too late for me, but you have your whole life.”

He kissed you deeply, slid in his tongue to taste the cheap hot chocolate, his chest aching when he heard one of your soft gasps melt into his mouth. Your fingers carded through his hair, but then Jihoon pulled away, rubbing his thumb to your bottom lip whilst you cradled his nape.

“You deserve someone who will cherish you, protect you, sing to you, let you be vulnerable in every way and adore you all the same.”

With a ginger smile, Jihoon looked deep into your eyes.

“And you need to have strength. Okay, my love? Will you promise me?”

Another tear trickled and soaked into your hair. Jihoon was right. There was no second life, and you didn’t want to spend any remainder of your first anchored to a boyfriend who would never love you like Jihoon did.

“I promise.” You spoke quietly, printing a kiss to his thumb. “I love you too. I always will.”

Then it was time for bed.

After reaching toward the night table and plucking off the lamp, you nestled your head against the smooth slope connecting his neck and shoulder, smelling the faint tang of an ancient cigar on his skin. One arm draped across his waist, your leg over his hip, every bit of your warmth seeping through Jihoon’s cloths and into his cold body. As a goodnight rhythm, Jihoon’s fingertips swept along your arm, the contact slightly ticklish but a reminder he was still tangible, still holding you, still positively in love with everything that fabricated you.

His heart wouldn’t change, even if he was no longer burying kisses to the top of your head by morning.

“You better watch your tone, sunshine. That’s all I’m saying.”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, next to the sink crammed with grimy, porcelain dishes that had most likely been collecting for a week. The windowsill above the faucet was lined with dead flies, the glass adapting a sallow hue, as though some type of algae was beginning to develop. A vase sat on the small dining table, filled with orchids, though the purple petals were shrivelled and the bulbs drooped like they were trying to escape the stem.

A cigarette was held between his fingers, to which he smeared off the ashes by rubbing it against the countertop. Squeezing your hand even tighter around the pocket mirror, you stood ground.

“I’ve been watching my tone for the last two years. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh yeah?” He huffed, folding an arm over his chest. “Then I taught you well. Don’t make me teach you again.” The smoke wafted from between his lips, and he hacked dryly.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. The only reason you weren’t blubbering through every word was due to your unwavering grip on the mirror and the tearful promise you made to Jihoon. Maintaining an ember of hope, you prayed this would be the last time you smelled the poison from his cigarette. Freedom felt like a walk out his front door.

“The way you treat me is disgusting. You don’t know anything about a real relationship.”

He might have been dense, but his instinctual evil knew contempt like the back of his palm. His eyes flashed, recognizing your defiance, your desperation to break free. Rather than the slumped posture against the countertop, he started to straighten himself out and bare his teeth.

“What the fuck do you know about a real relationship? I treat you like you’re supposed to be treated. I made you a better partner, and you’re not even goddamn thankful?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You felt not a grain of fear, but great astonishment, in which months of belligerence bled through your negation. “You made me better? Did you really just fucking say that? You put me in the worst position of my life! You’re an empty-headed, narcissistic, manipulative asshole!”

It was like a pin dropping in an empty theatre. The words that harped from your tongue merely skimmed the surface of your resentment, and you might’ve kept barrelling down if it weren’t for the obsidian in his eyes. You knew that soulless look. Already, you could feel the ache in your wrist, see glimpses of his iron hand reaching for your skin. He ripped the cigarette from his mouth, smacked it into the sink, and immediately loomed over you, wrestling for your wrist.

“H-Hey, don’t fucking touch me!” You cried out, whipping your elbow backward.

“Don’t act up then!” He roared, clutching onto your arm and wickedly shaking it until your grasp loosened around the pocket mirror.

With a horrified countenance, you watched the artifact fly from your hand and rattle against the plastic, stained tiles. The fragile clasp broke, its gold dome popped open, cracked glass crumbling out from the inside. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Air stuttered on the tip of your tongue whilst you stared at the hundred-year-old mirror, now decimated and irreplaceable. It felt like the universe had an unforgiving hand around your windpipe. No breath left your lungs.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, his brow furrowing, “why were you holding that?”

Why were you holding that?

With your mouth agape, you locked eyes with the man in front of you, and for once, he seemed afraid. The pain upended itself in your stomach, it burst into your atrium, your veins and blood. It was electricity. A frustrated growl reverberated from deep inside and suddenly you were slamming your hands against his chest, pushing him backward, making him stumble and wheeze and fear your aggression until he was caught against the kitchen counter.

“What the he—,”

“Shut up,” you choked out like your whole life had been ripped away from you, tears leaking down your face, “don’t you ever come up to me again. Don’t ever put your hands on me. Don’t you ever speak to me. Don’t you ever look at me. You can’t keep me trapped in your little cage anymore. We’re fucking through.”

He was heaving in quick-paced breaths, and you could see the disorientation cloud in his gaze. Before you left, you scooped the broken mirror and all its fragments into your hands.

You stalked through his front door, but it didn’t yet feel like freedom.

Darkness pooled around you, exempt from the yellowish flame that wriggled up candle wick. Gently opening the pocket mirror, you placed it on the closet floor, holding back a brittle sob as the tiny glass shards collected against its bottom. Glass shards that could never be fixed or glued back together. It was unadulterated heartache. You wondered if that was how Jihoon felt when he watched all his books smoulder in the fireplace, having to accept the voice at the back of his head which told him his literature would be lost forever.

Your eyes were damp and welting with tears as they fell shut. Quietly, into the small space you whispered: “If I ask for you, will you come to me?”

But the world was silent.

You felt not a single gust of arctic air against your face, nor did you hear the pocket mirror snapping shut. Jihoon’s soft fingertips weren’t brushing your arm, your teary cheek, the tender inside of your thigh, assuring you he was right at your side. A shudder split through your body. It couldn’t be true.

You entreated him again, “if I ask for you, will you come to me?”

A terrible sickness disseminated from your gut. You felt lightheaded, dizzy, saliva coating the inside of your mouth as though your system was preparing to vomit. Perspiration dappled your forehead, and you were burning hot, yet your hands were trembling like you’d been confined outside during the coldest winter. You leaned over into your palms and let out a petulant shriek. It was unclear how long you stayed in the closet, wetly hiccupping and mourning. The pain needed to escape, no matter how viciously.

And even though you couldn’t see Jihoon, he was looking after you as a free spirit, absorbing your agony, ensuring you didn’t have to feel such torment all by yourself.

Eight months later

It was around lunchtime as you picked up your bicycle, resting against the ivy that coated the sun-soaked wall of the cottage. You decided to pedal into town and grab groceries. June summers were always pleasant, colourful; the heat was rarely unbearable or notably sticky and when you rode your bicycle, the breeze blew the scent of the neighbourhood honeysuckle into your face.

Soaring along the sidewalk, you felt – for once in your life – remarkably free.

When you neared that ominous house at the end of the block, you weren’t afraid, rather you continued pedaling with contentedness, brushing right by the driveway as though it were any other house one might pass on a bike ride. You didn’t think about your wrist. The scratches had long since faded. There was no more bruised tissue or blunt carvings from fingernails. Upon nearing the grocery store, you were creating a small list in your head.

You knew you wanted peaches. Ice cream if they had your favourite flavour. Vegetables and meat and spices for a stew. In fact, you were so concentrated on making the non-existent list that you didn’t even note the young man who’d just rushed out the market door. At the last second you jammed the breaks and gasped, feeling the inertia against your body.

Some of the papers and photographs tucked under the stranger’s arm dislodged, fluttering to the ground.

“Holy shit,” you set your bicycle against the store wall, “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention at all—here, let me help you.”

“I-It’s alright,” he replied, sounding a bit shaky as he joined you in collecting the papers, “I wasn’t paying attention either.”

When you grabbed one particular photo from the ground, you immediately froze.

It was grainy, black and white, but you could recognize that face amongst hundreds. His eyes, his lips, even the corduroy button-up and crisp dress shirt. He was leaning against a jukebox, hands in his pockets, a pen tucked behind his ear, grinning like he’d just struck the lottery. You were so entranced with the photograph that the stranger could only stand before you, a thick blush on his cheeks whilst he waited for you to finish ogling. It wasn’t until he slightly cleared his throat that you budged.

“Do you know this guy?” You asked after handing him back the picture.

“Well, not personally…” He scratched the nape of his neck. “But I know who he was. Lee Jihoon. I have this culminating project in my writing class. I thought it’d be cool to choose him since his story is so intriguing. I—,” Suddenly, he stopped, and laughed anxiously.

“Sorry, you probably don’t know what I’m talking about.”

His amber complexion turned increasingly pink. You’d never seen him around town before, but god—he was cute. He had these thin, circular glasses that sat on his pointed nose, a mole doting the upper arch of his cheek, the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen. His hair was a bit disarrayed after you nearly struck him with your bicycle, the black strands fluttering against the summer breeze. And interestingly enough, he knew who Jihoon was.

“I know of him,” you smiled, though it was hollow, “his story is intriguing, according to what I’ve heard.”

The stranger seemed to sense your aching.

“Yeah… kinda sad stuff. Um, I-I’m Seokmin by the way. I heard Jihoon lived in this town so I’m trying to collect resources.”

You glanced at him thoughtfully and returned your name. Seokmin started organizing his papers, proceeding to shove them back under his arm.

“Resources?” Came your inquiry. “Like what kind?”

“Anything, honestly. I started researching him when I lived in Korea. I even got my hands on some copies of citizen records. I know he had a cottage around here too, but I don’t know the address. And that’s weird right? Knocking on the owner’s door asking about a deceased writer.”

“Seokmin.”

He pushed up the silver bridge of his glasses and gulped. “Yeah?”

“I think I can help you out.”

After taking Seokmin on a curt tour through the cottage, he seemed speechless, and quite frankly a little bewildered considering his luck at encountering you. Much of the cottage had been renovated and refurbished, all but the closet and the crimson fireplace.

The tour ended in your bedroom, where Seokmin shot a wary glance at the closet you had always kept empty, knowing what the cramped space entailed in terms of the writer’s premature death. You thought he needed to sit, so you assured him it was fine if he took a couple minutes on the edge of your bed.

With his documents next to him, Seokmin’s eyes once again probed around the room. He then sighed as you leaned against your dresser, to which you pondered on what had disturbed him.

“I can’t believe he burnt all his work. It’s just gone, y’know?”

Tapping your fingers against the wood, you nodded. “It’s unfortunate.”

“When I was poking around for information back in Busan, I heard he had this girlfriend who cheated on him with his friend. All his books were these amazing love stories based on her, but I guess he felt they were tarnished… So, he just… Destroyed them. I wonder if there’s anything of his left.”

Immediately, you stiffened. Stowed away within your night table’s compartment was the gold pocket mirror. You had removed the broken glass after slicing the edge of your finger on a shard, and only the antique shell remained. It was too painful to keep the mirror with you as frequently as before, so you stored it in a special place, and only accessed it when you needed to talk with Jihoon, when you really needed to feel his presence, even if it couldn’t be what it once was.

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you approached the table and pulled open the compartment, revealing to Seokmin the pocket mirror, dulled and broken after a century of hardship. He outstretched his palm when you allowed him to hold it.

“S-Shit, I heard about this mirror. His girlfriend gave him this. Is it the actual thing?”

Folding your arms over your chest, you nodded. “I promise, it’s not a fake.”

Gently, Seokmin opened the broken clasp.

“No glass?” He questioned.

“Um…” You were nibbling your lip hard enough to draw blood, “Just… something happened, and it broke. It was too dangerous to keep the glass.”

“Oh,” Seokmin hummed, “that’s fine. It’s still beautiful. I can’t even believe I’m holding it.” His chest rumbled with disbelieving laughter.

“It’s so hard to see it broken…” You sighed, feeling your lungs shake and your throat tighten.

Seokmin looked up at you, how you gazed at the mirror as though it were a lost love. He rose from the bed and delicately placed the momentum back into its compartment.

“I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing.” The boy pointed out in a soft voice.

“Why not?” You sniffled, tears stinging your eyes, yearning to fall.

“Well, there’s this myth, I guess. People who take their own life are condemned to their personal grave. When items that were precious to them break, like that mirror, it sets their soul free. So, even if it’s painful for you, it could have been a good thing. If you believe in spirits and all that.”

For a moment, you simply held yourself firmer, staring deep into the kind earth of Seokmin’s eyes whilst this catharsis bloomed inside you. Even though you knew the mirror wasn’t necessary for Jihoon to hear or see you, it had been the most difficult tribulation you ever knuckled through. Trying to accept life as it was, not as what it could have been. Seokmin’s brow knitted together concerningly, his bottom lip pushing out, hoping he didn’t upset you.

“Are you oka—,”

He lost an ounce of his breath when you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding onto him tight whilst a few tears beaded toward your chin. Seokmin was at first stunned, though it melted off easily, and you felt his hand rub tenderly against your back. He murmured some small reassurances. His voice was incredibly dulcet, almost velvet-like, and you thought he’d make a good singer. When you took a step away to wipe up any tears, Seokmin gazed at you fondly.

“I’m really sorry,” you chuckled, fingertips brushing against your eye, “but thank you for saying that. It’s something I needed to hear.”

Seokmin shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Pain is pain.”

You smiled at him. He wasn’t wrong.

Realizing he needed to move on with his day, you lead Seokmin downstairs and to the front door, where he stood next to your lilac bush, the afternoon sun adding a touch of honey to his cheeks. Just before he left, you couldn’t help but note that he was fumbling with his words a lot, licking his pretty lips, running a hand through his black locks. Eventually, the boy found his words.

“Do you want to meet up again, maybe?” He quickly adjusted his glasses. “And we can do something? I-I think you’re really nice and cute and I still can’t believe you showed me around when you didn’t have to. I’m sorry if that’s too soon. I totally understand if you’d rather ju—”

“I’d love to.”

The overwrought nature to his face immediately cleared. Instead, Seokmin looked vibrant, so much in fact, that you could feel a familiar sense of warmth rise in your face. It was a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while, but it made you happy, inconceivably happy.

“Really? Okay, cool. Do you want my number?”

As you removed the phone from your pocket, your heart skipped a beat.

“Sure,” you eagerly complied, “let’s do it.”

And on that day, your life began in the way you always dreamed it would.

✧✎ a/n: again, i just want to apologize for my lack of posting (pls refer to my last update if you’re curious). I HOPE THE ENDING MADE UP FOR THE PAIN AND SADNESS lolll.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #seventeen angst #jihoon angst #lee jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi scenarios #svt fanfic #svt angst #jihoon x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #abuse tw #suicide tw

337 notes · View notes

milkacchan · 4 years ago

Text

Request for anon: Omg could you please make a part two of an S/O who's stupid good with kids but with Shinsou, tamaki, deku, and aizawa??

This is a lil long bc it was 4 characters! And I kinda changed Aizawa up a little bit so I hope you still like it.

Deku-

• Shit happens

• Shit happens all the time

• This specific incident involved a quirk manifestation and a child.

• You and two had just been walking

• Just chilling out after a rigorous training day

• Then there was screaming and panicking. Your head snapped in its direction, he hadn't fully processed it before you'd taken off

• Some kids quirk had manifested. It seemed pretty severe.

• It looked like some kind of energy quirk, like a force field or something.

• The kid was scared, she was panicking and thrashing from her place in the air

• He stood behind you, surveying the environment to find a solution

• And he almost missed you jumping in until her heard your voice.

"Okay baby, look at me, just look at me and breathe. You'll be okay, Just breathe."

• You were walking towards her, trying to get her to slow her breaths. The more she panicked the worse it would get.

• He stood where he was, he didn't want to overwhelm her, he decided he'd let you take care of it.

• He watched quietly as you breathed with her, again reassuring that'd she'd be just fine.

• And he watched as the field flickered away and the girl fell. His body lurched foward on instinct and he was beyond relieved when he saw that you had caught her.

• He let out a breath as the girl gripped your shirt and sobbed into your shoulder.

• A hand reached up to hold the back of her head

• "it's okay," you murmured and he smiled

• It seemed to come easy to you, nurturing people. It seemed to come easy calming this girl down.

• He turned his attention to reassuring the bystanders that the two of you were okay and that you'd be taking the girl home. They dispersed slowly after his urging for them to leave.

• You were standing now, the girl still in your arms, holding on for dear life.

• Poor thing was still shaking

• "Look," you hummed. "This is my friend, he's going to walk with us to get you home. That okay?"

• Your hand was rubbing her back now and your cheek was pressed against her temple

• Dekus heart fluttered

• God you were beautiful

• And strong

• And just everything he ever wanted

• The small girl nodded, keeping her face hidden, whispering a soft sorry

• "Don't be sorry princess, you didn't do anything wrong." You pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Deku sees the girls grip tighten.

• He has a hand on your lower back during the walk to the girls house, you'd somehow managed to find where it was even with all the crying the girl did

• He watched as you hand the girl over to her mother who profusely thanks you

• Information is traded as she says she wants to make it up to you even after your assurance that it was no trouble at all

• And he's holding your hand again when the two of you leave, going on and on about how well you did in the situation

• He's so proud

Shinsou:

• He realizes just how good with kids you are when he she's you interact with Eri

• I mean everytime the two of you are together its wholesome

• He takes note when Aizawa tries to apologize for her always being with you and you brush it off

• You enjoyed her company and found no problem in it

• Shinsou tucked that piece away for later

• The girl adored you, genuinely

• And you stopped at nothing to make sure she was okay

• She'd spend a lot of time in the 1-A dorms with you, just as he would.

• If she said she was hungry, you'd be up to make her food in no time

• If she cried, you'd have her on your lap, wiping the tears from her cheeks as you assured her it was okay

• and he'd watch, soft smile gracing his lips

• She'd spent the night with you on more than one occasion

• Nightmares were prominent with Eri

• Staying with you seemed to help that

• He'd sit beside you as you braided her hair

• He'd listen to her ramble to you and he'd watch you nod and hum in response

• He'll lay on one side of you and Eri will lay on the other side, curled into your side as she watches whatever disney movie she picked

• and his heart will swell when the two of you sing along to the songs

• When Eries feeling down, she comes to you for comfort

• You'll tell her how beautiful she is

• He'll watch you hold her to your chest and rub her back

• He watches you play with her hair, kiss her cheeks, telling her how amazing she is

• How you're lucky to have her with you

• He'll watch as she falls asleep in your arms, content

• And it always makes him realizes just how lucky he is to be with you

• How lucky he is to have /you/

• How lucky Eri is to have you

• I mean this man fr fr in love w you

• This one time, you and shinsou had fallen asleep watching a movie, it was about 3am when there was a small knock on the door

• You get up to answer it and Shinsou wakes up to you getting up

• Sure enough its Eri, she's sniffling and holding her stuffed animal

• And immediately your kneeling in front of her wiping her cheeks

• "Baby what's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare...I didn't want to wake mr. Aizawa up. I didn't want to make him mad..."

"Oh honey," you kiss her nose and pick her up, rubbing her back in response to her small whine. "You want some tea? Then you can stay with me for the night? We can tell Mr. Aizawa in the morning, he won't get mad."

She nods, laying her head on your shoulder. "Hi Shinsou," she waves weakly. "I'm sorry for waking you up too."

"Hi Eri," and he gets up too, walking over and running a hand through her hair. "It's okay, you're safe here. We won't let anything happen to you."

She nods again

He follows the two of you down the hallway and to the kitchen

Mina, Kaminari, and Sero are still up on the couch. He snickers as you glare at them.

"You guys should be asleep. Get out."

Mina groans and Sero grins knowingly, pulling the other two out.

• I mean shinous heart is melting rn

• you're like totally momming out

• You've got Eri in one arm, humming by her ear as you turned the stove on to get a kettle boiling

• You're swaying gently, readjusting her so she's in the center of your chest

• you run a hand through her hair and she smiles

• And Shinsou swears he could die right there

• Just looking at you interacting with the kid he considers a little sister is enough to kill him fr fr

• His poor heart can't take much more

• Eri lifts her little hands up to cup your cheeks. "You're not going to leave right?"

"Never ever," you smiled, touching your nose to hers.

Then she looked at Shinsou and this man about passed out. "Never." He puts a hand on her head. "We'll always be here,"

• The tea is made, the three of you drink it at the table, bent on getting Eris mind off her nightmare

• And then you carry her upstairs again and down the hall into your bedroom.

• the three of you settle down and you out on a movie (volume low of course) that she can fall asleep too and it's not long before she's out, pressed into your side.

• Shinsou smiles and kisses your temple. "I love you, you know,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I love you too. Now stop being a sap, its gross." You stick your tongue out and he let's out a low chuckle.

"You're good with her."

"I want her to be happy," you mumble. "She deserves that at least. And if the world doesnt have anyone else doing it, then I'll do it."

He kisses your temple again. "I know."

• Ever since Eri came to live in the dorms, you've gotten up earlier, mostly to make the girl breakfast

• The whole class realizes it, sometimes they'll try to steal some but you'll obliterate them for trying

• You've always got Eri in some proximity to you when you're cooking. Usually she'll watch

• Shinsou finds himself sneaking into the 1A dorms in the mornings (much to his classes distaste) but how could he not?

Aizawa-

• He realizes that you talk a lot of shit about how much you 'hate kids' but when it comes to them, you're always doing your best to make sure they're comfortable and happy

• Its another pro hero moment

• His class is attacked and you happen to be there and this man watches you go FERAL protecting these fucking teenagers and his heart swells and he'd filled with so much fucking pride

• The dumbass villain who fuckin tried is now on the ground in front of you completely beat to a pulp

• Poor guy had no chance

• As soon as you knew he was out your attention had turned to the kids behind you

• You checked for injuries, concussions, made sure they felt okay

• Mina looks like she's on the verge of tears, deadass hits you with 'can you be my mom?????'

• Kaminari and Sero are nodding in agreement. 'Pls'

• He tried to tease you about it

• "Shouta I'll knock your ass out too, shut your fucking mouth,"

• 'Reluctantly' becomes class mom

• Deadass

• You find yourself bringing snacks or making them something and Shouta brings it in 🤢

• Ur like oh god ew

• 'Shouta take this shit in for ur fuckin kids'

'You mean OUR kids'

• That was instance one

• Happens again but this time in the city during a robbery with smaller kids, much smaller

• And you don't waste a second, you're by their side

• Checking to make sure none if them are physically hurt

• So then you work on calming them down, telling them to breathe and just look at you

• Gently rubbing they're cheeks and keeping them close to you

• Shoutas 🥺

• Midnights 🥺

• Hizashis 🥺

• "M scared-"

"I know baby, but its gonna be okay. We won't let anything happen, okay?"

• And you carry these little fuckers out

• Ones on your back

• You've got one on each hip

• And another sitting on your shoulders

• Aizawa see's right through you

• "So...you say you don't like kids??"

"Hizashi I will LITERALLY hang you by your underwear, get away from me."

• God one time he see's you singing to this kid who's panicking and he deadass thinks he's gonna cry bc you're so precious

• And then Eri comes into the picture and you dont even pretend to hate kids anymore

• This child becomes your daughter

• And he's v happy about it because he wasn't one to really think about having kids

• But he's not gonna let Eri go, she's been through to much

• Not to mention practically adopting shinsou

• He's glad you're doing well with them

• They've seen your soft sides, much to your distaste, but they dont know that

• speaking of shinsou

• You do lowkey mom him

• Not to a super extent

• You're more like the cool aunt w mom tendencies

• But they're both happy to have some consistencies

• Shinsou knows that he's always welcome to come talk to you (and Aizawa but you know sometimes shit pops up that he's not particularly comfy w and you seem to be good at that)

• And he does

• Aizawa has accidently overheard his fair share of conversations between you two

• It always makes him happy that you all connect on that level

• I mean he wouldn't mind having a biological child

• But he's content with the family dynamic they have rn

• as much as you deny it you'd be a great mother

Tamaki:

• Tamaki isn't /bad/ w kids but he's not super great with them either

• Anxiety do be a bitch

• You always seem to ease up around kids

• He likes to watch

• Kids just seem to gravitate towards you, regardless of where you are, genuinely

• At the park? Oh boy he's ready to watch you interact with the kiddos

• Restaurant? Oh yeah, he's ready for some 5 year old to waddle up and talk.

• But in particularly rough situations, he's always super impressed. You seem to do WONDERS to calm kids down.

• The other pro heros could never.

• Endeavor? No.

• All might? Who she?

• No baby, it's all you.

• Anyway, one time, yall were out on a date.

• Y'all were f i s h i n g

• Aka you had been itching to go outside and decide to teach Amijiki to fish and he agreed bc why not

• So there you are, outside in the hot sun, in a crop top and shorts on a dock

• He's about 6 feet away, still talking distance, but far enough so your lines wouldn't get tangled

• He's not having a bad time at all, he's trying to ignore anyone else that might be there

• bc he wants to be w you and is tired of his anxiety getting in the way

• anyway, he almost misses the little girl that walks up.

• He looks over and she looks like she's gonna cry.

• She prolly has anxiety too tbh

• "Um...can-can you help me?"

• you look down and smile, "yes ma'am, what can I do for you?"

She held up her own small rod. "I uh...I lost my hook and I forgot how my dad tied everything on.."

"Want me to show you?"

"Yes please," her gaze flickered down.

"Okay first things first, do you have sun screen and water?"

She shook her head.

• So before you do anything, he watches you spray sunscreen on the little girl and give her a water bottle, which she only takes after you reassure that it's okay for her to have

• Then you call him over

"Amajiki, baby come here so I can show you how to do it too."

And he listens, reeling his line in and sitting next to you

"This is Amajiki, he's my friend okay? I'm teaching him how to fish too."

• The girl seems to relax at that and you get to work

• But he's not paying attention to what you're actually doing

• He's watching you

• You've got a bright smile on, your voice is soft as you show her the steps

• And once you get done tying the swivel on and putting a hook on, you hand her a worm

"Go on, bait it,"

• The girl does so with a small comfortable smile

• His heart melts

• You're just so damn good with them like you're literally a goddess already

• And this just makes it better

• You show her how to cast right and then she's all set

• She ends up sitting with you two for a little over an hour

• Then she waves goodbye and bounds off

• Amajiki kisses your nose gently. "You're so cool, bunny."

"You big sap, she told me you were her favorite hero. Did you zone out or something."

"Yeah," his face flushed. "I did."

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kelberytwt · 3 years ago

Text

Oooo look at this I'm getting into idv again 😕 I'm only here for edluca and other cool ships as well as the lore so screw you netease!!!!! you aren't getting my money today!!!! anyways take this little oneshot I wrote :] I'm tempted to turn it into a fanfic but idk!!! maybe on AO3.

word count : 1,046

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

Raining hitting the dirt covered windows, he stood sobbing over the brunette in front of him, tears falling down his face viciously as he held his lovers face in his pale and plaster cover hands. With each sob, Valden's whole body shook as Luca simply sat there on the Manor couch with a puzzled expression.

" Luca please- Please you must remember, it's me love, it's Edgar- "

He hiccuped and tried to catch his breath but to no avail since he was more focused on the man in front of him. The Manor seemed quiet that day but maybe everyone was just trying to leave The Painter alone after the accident which happened a few hours prior to the moment they were currently in.

The 'Prisoner' managed to get himself in a pretty serious accident while running away the hunter which wasn't uncommon of him so he was taken straight to bed by Miss Emily Dyer, The Doctor, to try and rest up but he had come stumbling to the room, which they were in now, where Edgar sat and whilst engulfing his boyfriend in an embrace, Luca stated that ' he didn't know why Edgar was so excited since he couldn't remember him '. From that moment, Edgar tried to make him remember, like every other time this happened. He tried and tried but he simply couldn't. Nothing worked. And for all he knew, the Luca Balsa he met and had fallen madly in love with was gone and he didn't know how to get him help, it wasn't like anyone else would help either. They were too focused on surviving this shithole to focus on anyone else, and it's not like anyone was buddy buddy with Luca either.

The 'Prisoner' gave an awkward chuckle, placing his hands over Edgar's as he tried to pull them away but the shorter kept his ground and kept his hands on the others tanned skin, rubbing his thumbs and feeling small scars and imperfections in his Luca's skin. It was beautiful, all of him was to Edgar. From his messed and self cut hair, which was clearly self cut because I wasn't good and you could see stray hairs poking out, all the way down to the smallest things in him, such as the way he walked and talked, the way he stood when they had to wait, his hands in his pocket and the top part of his back leaning back making his posture messes up and Edgar tried to sort it out but it was always for nothing since Luca would go back to standing in that same way but Edgar loved it, he loved him so bad, even the dumb shit he said as the two fell asleep in their arms late at night.

" Uh- Buddy-? " Balsa spoke, slowly and quietly causing Valden to snap out of his thoughts. " You alright buddy? You seem to be uh- A little out of it. "

The Painter's eyes glossed over with tears which he tries to hold back as hard as he could to not burst into a sobbing and shaking state once more.

" Luca- Do you really not remember? " Edgar whispered.

" I'm- I'm sorry? " Were the only words the other managed to spit out, not wanting to say something in case he hurt the stranger before him. Well 'stranger', they weren't strangers. There were lovers but that memory was wiped from his head. They were lovers for eyes, but he kept forgetting, 2 years ago now in the spring at the Manor when Luca was still working was their first meeting and Valden always reminded him of how and where they met, what his favourite things were what was going on. Everything. Because he cared even if he came off as an asshole and jerk around everyone else, Luca Balsa was his soft spot at the end of the day.

Gingerly, he opened his mouth to speak even just to whisper a word but nothing came out, he was completely silent and not even a whimper left his lips as if he was just simply frozen.

Valden stood there, hazelnut hair tied up in a ponytail behind him like always and his hat lay crooked on his head. His eyes were red from sobbing as well as his nose for the same reason. He had just lost the person he most cared for, gone, out of his reached. If he was there fast enough, if he managed to grab luca and run, if only. Even the hunter felt bad for what had happened as they walked into the Manor with a worried expression as the rest dragged Luca inside but of course they had to be separated from each other, that was simply the rules which they couldn't break.

" Your name is luca balsa, " Edgar started calmly, holding his face tighter, " You are twenty four years old and,, your favourite season is spring, and you told me that ages ago because it was spring when we first met. "

" Buddy- "

" I- I can take you places where we spent our time together, I can show you paintings you helped with- Anything, I promise we can get your memory back. "

Edgar had begun to sob again.

It seemed the world was really against The Painter, it felt like everything was always against him. All he wanted was to be happy, that's it, he wanted to live his life with the person he cared most for and one day get put this shithole of a Manor but now it seemed like he was alone. Again. With no one by his side. It was depressing, to fall back into the hole of feeling like nothing in your life mattered but he could work his sorrows away. I mean, he thought he could anyways because who actually knows how much free time he'll have now, maybes he'll go into more matches wishing that something would take his mind of the dreadful feeling in his chest, or maybe he could lock himself up and sob. Sob and cry and scream and yell at himself because he was so stupid to let Balsa get so badly hurt.

Luca forget everything, every trace of Edgar and where he even was, so all hope The Painter had was gone.

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

This was sorta based on

that piece of art but more Angsty so credit to the person that made that for the inspo!!! I really loved it. And I really enjoyed writing this despite not being confident in my writing and not writing too much.

#identity v #idv painter #writing #one shot #idv prisoner #angst #idv #edluca #edgar valden #luca balsa #mentions of #emily dyer #idv doctor #idv hunter #idv survivor

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

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Oikawa soulmate au shared pain

Request: 🌷 with oikawa please? - anonymous

Haikyuu is such a beautiful fandom to write for and the whole show makes me feel nostalgic of my own volleyball days *sniff* *sniff*. I hope you like it. Love yaa.💖💖💖

P.S. GOD THIS IS LONG! I got carried away and stretched it out more than intended. Sorryyyyyyy.

warnings: some angst, eventual fluff

It has always been the three of you. Iwaizumi, Oikawa and you. You went to the same middle school and later on high school, you and Oikawa lived in the same neighborhood and you even went on vacation together. You were inseparable. Attached to the hip. Being so close with someone has its benefits. You always have someone to rant to, a shoulder to cry on and they are always there to make you laugh. But this situation doesn’t lack its disadvantages. You get used to them, almost dependent of their presence and more often than not, even though they know you better than anyone, they tend to miss some signs.

That’s what had happened to you and those two. You had become dependent of one another. It was bound to happen at some point if you were being honest, you were expecting it. To say that you were in love with Tooru is an understatement. You two always had a special connection that you couldn’t place and he always confined in you and you in him. So developing feelings wasn’t a surprise. You have been stuck in this loop of pretend for about three years now, constantly wearing the mask of the caring best friend and not of the love struck fool that wanted the best for him.

And then the pain started. Iwa was the first to notice how you would sometimes limp after one of their matches and being the good friend that he is he pointed it out to you. You would just brush it off because you had a whining Tooru being overly dramatic for his knee pain and you were the only one who could get him to walk out of the gym. There were times when you had to convince Iwa to carry him because he ‘fainted’ and wouldn’t get up.

Iwa is an observant individual. He has seen how every time Tooru gets hurt you are in pain as well. It doesn’t take long to put two and two together. He rushed to you to share his discovery and of course you were ecstatic. Oikawa was your soulmate? The boy you were in love with already, is in reality your soulmate? The news had you in cloud 9. You were floating and you couldn’t wait to tell Tooru. To share this with him and start a new journey. Together but in a different sense this time.

You planned to tell him the very next day, you couldn’t wait. The day dragged on and on with, making it hard for you to hold the big news in until the end of the school day. You had been kinda avoiding him as much as you could because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself and blurt it out. At last the final bell rung and you sprinted out of the class, hastily making your way to the gym. You heard Tooru’s voice behind the building and went to greet him, only to be met by the image of him kissing someone else.

She was one of his fangirls, always present during his practices and matches and she even had went as far as to declare her ‘dips’ on Tooru a while back. Said you were in her way and that a lowly nobody wouldn’t get in the way of her dream boy. Looks like she succeeded after all. You could feel your heart break in your chest, a pain so sharp and intense you struggled to breath. That’s when you saw Tooru wince, grasping his shirt right over his heart a gasp leaving his lips as the pain became more and more unbearable. If he looked up he would see you. You knew that it would be awkward, you would be ruining the mood, but you wanted him to see you for some reason. A small revenge for the pain he was causing you right now.

“Oikawa-channnn!!! Practice is starti- Oh...” And the Oscar goes to Y/N L/N for the role of smiling through the pain, you thought as soon as the words left your lips. He looked at you wide eyed, his mouth falling open and then snapping shut as he tried to find the words. You gave him an awkward smile, hoping to mask the tears that were forming in your eyes and backed away, turning around and leaving.

Stupid stupid stupid! As if you were the girl he would fall for, that little voice screamed at you. Your chest was tightening again, knocking the breath out of your lungs a sob escaping your mouth as you clutched your heart trying to ease the pain. But you knew it wouldn’t work. Nothing could heal a heartbreak. Arriving home you went straight and took a shower, letting your tears run freely down your cheeks as severe sobs erupted through your chest. Walking to your room, you looked at your phone seeing some messages.

[Iwaizumzum]

How did it go? Am I third wheeling you two now?

[Me]

You don’t have to worry about that. I didn’t tell him

[Iwaizumzum]

What!? Why?! Is it bc you realized he’s dumb? I swear he’s gonna treat you like a queen and if he doesn’t I can always hit some sense into him!!!!

[Me]

He was ...busy with someone else when I found him

Iwa thank you for the concern but I don’t feel like talking about it so can we plz forget about it?!

[Iwaizumzum]

HE WHAT!?!? SHITTYKAWA GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS WHEN I SEE HIM!

[Me]

IWA I SAID NO!

And what do you mean when you see him? Don’t you have practice?

[Iwaizumzum]

Yeah we do... but he wasn’t feeling well and left

Go to sleep it might help

And call me if you need anything

I’m down for a 3 am snack run if you need it

[Me]

Thank you Iwa ttyl

Turning off your phone you lay back down on your bed, fresh tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Grabbing your fluffy blanket - a gift from your boys on Christmas- you made yourself into a burrito and the crying session began again. You couldn’t see to stop, the pain in your chest coming back to hit you like a truck while your sobs were filling the room. Why did it have to hurt so much? Why did you have to fall in love with him? Why did you have to walk in on him? Why why why won’t this pain leave you alone?

Lost in thought you didn’t hear the front door flying open or the pounding footsteps coming closer and closer to your room. Then your door opened and the person rushed to your bed, trying to untangle you from the blanket.

“I’m not in the mood. Leave me alone.” You didn’t know who it was. Maybe your mom or your sibling. God forbid it was your father; Tooru will be as good as dead if it was your dad. They were persistent, whoever it was, wrestiling for the blanket and trying to find your head. Sitting up with a start you yanked the blanket off you head. “I said I’m not in the moo- oh...Hi Tooru.”

He was in front of you, eyes frantic searching your face and cheeks a rosy red from the way here. Brown locks fell in his eyes and you had to hold yourself back from moving them out of the way. He had someone now, your actions had to be limited.

“The same applies to you too. I’m not in the mood so if you please le-”

“Please stop crying. I’m- I’m sorry it’s my fault, please don’t cry.” his voice cracked at the words tears of his own were starting to form in the corners of his eyes. He lunged at you, wrapping his arms around you frame bringing you flush against him, your slight trembles vibrating into his body. “I was stupid and scared. I should have waited a little longer. I should have been more patient. Please please don’t cry I hate it when you cry! A-and I hate myself for being the reason.” His arms tightened around you not letting you pull away as you had tried when he started talking.

You couldn’t hold your tears at this point and they were running freely down your cheeks, wetting his shirt. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, the pain intensifying fueled by both your own pain and Oikawa’s. His arms steadied you and you hated to admit that you like it. It felt so right. Two puzzle pieces falling into place. But he wasn’t yours. With all the strength you had you pushed him off.

“I-I’m not g-going to b-break you t-two up.” he started shaking his head, opening his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “You chose her and you can’t just throw her to the side because I’m crying! I had my chance all this time and I blew it! E-end of story.”

“It was nothing! I’m not with her she was just a- a distraction! Y/N please I want my soulmate by my side not some random girl!” he reached for you again this time grabbing your hands bringing your palms flat on his heart. “I want the girl I fell in love with.”

With that you broke down again but this time you were the one to latch on to him wrapping both arms and legs around him, locking him in place. Your crying didn’t stop but this time it was different. This time there was no excruciating pain in your chest. You felt lighter.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” he repeated over and over again, holding you as tight as possible afraid that if he didn’t you would disappear and he would be back in that dark corner of his mind.

He spent the night at your place, never fully taking his hands away from you. He called Iwa to apologize for missing practice and then he gave his undying attention to you, repeating those three words every chance he got. You were happy his was here. Happy that you finally have him. Happy the pain stopped. Happy that he’s the reason it stopped.

I love you

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

TAG TEAM AY: @brattyquirks @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings

#oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa scenarios #oikawa #oikawa fluff #oikawa imagine #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #soulmate au #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu

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irishmacguirefucker · 4 years ago

Text

Truths

Or alternatively, Karen jones weasels the ranch plan out of Sean and then has a brief crisis about it

(3150 words! holy shit its long but i hope its a good read bc i worked hard on it and im pretty proud of it. You should probably read Seans hcs first buts its not necessary)

Karen Jones is not a particularly optimistic person. She wouldn't say pessimistic persay, maybe more of a realist.

There were a lot of things she felt were ultimate truths. Women would never be treated equally to men or allowed to vote, she would always despise the hot weather, she would never be good at embroidery, and she would die as she lived. Nothing but another forgotten criminal. Another gang member shot down and swept underneath the rug that was the new century.

She was sure that was what happened to Sean. Dutch says he was captured but in Karens book he may as well have died on that boat job.

But one day, somehow, those truths she clung to seemed to be wavering.

When Tilly and Mary-Beth spoke of the women in Rhodes and San Denis, or even places further like New York, fighting for their right to vote and be equal she tried to brush it off.

But it stuck out in her brain. Was the world changing? Could things be different? Sadie Adler was running around in pants like it already had for her. Maybe she was a pessimist, not a realist.

Things were changing, she could feel it. And not just in the world of politics and women's rights. (not that she thought herself much of a scholar in that area)

There were whispers around camp, Hosea left for a long time and when he came back he had a look in his eye that she just couldn't decipher. But then suddenly that look seemed to be catching on all around her. First in Arthur, though whatever was happening seemed to have put Dutch in a very grim mood.

Next it was John and Abigail Marston. Suddenly they were fighting less, and speaking in low whispers like schemers plotting some plan that Karen was still desperately trying to figure out.

The final straw was Ms. Grimshaw. She had that look in her eyes just like the rest and suddenly she was ordering the girls to start looking for legal money, legitimate jobs for the gang to get done. Suddenly, she wasn't the only suspicious one anymore.

Things stayed that way for a while, looking for legal money with sob stories and not so innocent flirting to find jobs. And it was weird, and suspicious but no matter how much she grilled Grimshaw for it, that woman was locked tighter than the bank safes they used to rob. (Used to. How incredibly odd to think that they aren't anymore)

And then suddenly, Sean Macguire was back. He was alive and safe and only a little worse for wear. Karen Jones' solid truths were all being broken and the return of the man she -was pretty sure she- loved was the last crack she could handle.

She wanted so many things at once in that moment. She wanted rum, she wanted to run to his arms and never let go, she wanted to mount old belle and escape, she wanted to curl up in one of the wagons and cry

But she did none of those things. Instead she took his greeting to her as she always had, sarcastic yet flirty, the way they had always been. Because that little game of thiers, the dancing around each other but knowing deep down (at least she thinks he knows) that she is his and he is hers.

If she changed that game, broke another solid truth that she was desperately trying to hold onto, she would be broken open and the world would suddenly become unpredictable and scary.

So she drank her beer, sat in his lap, kissed Sean, slapped him, kissed him once more and then took him to bed. And while that whole mess wasn’t the greatest experience on her end, she practically had to run from that tent because Sean had about a thousand new scars and bruises and she wasn't about the cry over it in his face. Naked. After bad sex.

After the night of Seans reunion with the gang, he seemed to hang around her a little more. Not much more than before, but now it was rare if he wasn't hanging off her skirts around camp. And she couldn't complain because she did miss him terribly, no matter what she said to his face.

In some ways she found it hard to face Hosea anymore. Right before he left on his apparently life changing trip, she had gotten particularly wasted and cried on the old man's shoulder, clinging to one of Sean’s vests.

She actually admitted, out loud that she thinks she might love Sean, but she was so sure he was dead she didn't know what to do with that thought anymore. That ‘almost’ that was floating in her head as she grieved.

When Sean came back, suddenly the memory of her drunken confession did too, and Hosea always seemed to have this weird soft smile when her and Sean spent time together. So she kinda had to avoid Hosea for a while

At some point she saw Hosea and Sean having what looked to be a deep conversation and she prayed to the god she was entirely unsure even existed that Hosea wouldn't share her secret.

Of course he didn't, and she felt a little guilty that she even thought that about the man who was in so many ways a father figure to her. But he told Sean something because suddenly, even Sean had that look in his eye.

The plotting, scheming, planning look that was catching around the camp like a disease and suddenly, she would pay any amount of money to know just what they were plotting. She knows that it's big, bigger than anything they have even done.

Sean was never able to keep a secret from her for very long. She knew that if she got on his case about it he would likely spill, so thats exactly what she did. But then suddenly Sean was no longer hanging off her skirts, and seemed to be avoiding her as much as he could.

His absence from her side was obvious. There was nobody pestering her (other than grimshaw), nobody sitting with her while she drank her morning coffee, nobody sneaking up behind her to spin her around just to see her get all flushed and mad, nobody to give her a cheeky kiss as he promised not to do it again with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Karen Jones is far from stupid, she knows that she must have been getting close to something if Sean was leaving her alone on his own free will.

So finally she caught him on guard duty. It was near the end of his shift and she made her way into the trees that hid their camp from the world.

She knew what she wanted to say, but once they locked eyes he immediately looked so nervous that she almost laughed at the shifting feet and darting eyes of the man in front of her.

She nearly forgot she had brought him a mug of coffee, and handed it to him wordlessly. He thanked her quietly and then everything was silent. Far too silent to be normal for Sean “I never stop talking even when I’m in mortal danger” Macguire.

“You’re awfully quiet Sean, ain't like you.”

A pause. More darting eyes. “Ah yes well I'm on duty, can't let those bastards out the woods hear me talking up a storm.”

Another pause. A chuckle under Karen's breath.

“Ain’t never stopped you before.”

Briefly he smiled, and looked into the blonde’s eyes. “That it hasn’t Karen my love, but I'm not looking to get another cuff up the back of me head from Hosea for forgetting to keep me fuckin’ mouth shut.”

For a moment he looked like he might start acting normally again before he remembered just why he was avoiding her. Suddenly he was staring at his boots once more. Some guard he is.

“Right. You and Hosea been talking a lot lately. In fact, a lot of people seem to be talkin’ with Hosea ‘cept me it seems.” That was her own fault for avoiding him, but she wouldn't say that.

Sean looked uncomfortable with this conversation, looking past Karen to see if anyone was on their way to take his shift. She hoped that meant she was close to cracking him.

“Ah yes well, you know how it is with the old man. Always wanting to have long discussions about the glory days, or give ya advice ya didn't ask for.”

“I suppose. But you know what I think Sean?”

Sean has never looked this nervous before she thinks.

“What's that love?” Bold of him to ask anyways, she will give him that.

“I think yall are plotting something, and you're keeping secrets Mr. Macguire.”

She watched as the irish man stiffened, took a look around, threw back his coffee and sighed. They both knew he wouldn't be able to keep anything from her for long, perhaps he was finally accepting that.

“I just might be Ms. Jones, but I hardly think it's much of your business to be pryin’ it out of me is it?”

Sean hardly sounded like himself to her ears. Sure, he could be nasty out on a job but never to her. She considered this man to be her best friend, the man she was almost sure she was in love with, and he was slapping her away like she was nothing but a fly bothering him. She can count on one hand the amount of secrets she had ever kept from him.

He always had a way of pulling them out of her, because he always wanted her to be happy around him. He wanted to know her problems not to fix them, but to distract her from them.

She had always thought it was a sort of mutual agreement. They were close. Not just friends but not quite together. Close enough that they had a bond neither could deny. So the idea that hes been avoiding her for some reason and would get so nastily defensive when she asked? It hurt.

But she wouldn't let him know that. That's not how the game works. But suddenly all these changes around her gave her the courage to say screw the game.

“Screw you Sean Macguire. How fucking dare you.”

“Karen-”

“No, you wanna keep your mouth shut about this then you can keep your big mouth shut while i yell at you. How dare you talk to me like that. How dare you keep secrets when never in my life have i ever been able to keep a secret from you. No wait, I kept one secret from you didn’t I? I never told you that I thought you were god damn dead.”

That and the fact that she was in love with him. When did she suddenly become sure of that fact? Not that it matters. She was already saying more than she meant to.

“I thought you were dead in the ground and it damn near broke me. You are my best friend, and you have the god damn fucking balls to tell me its none of my buisness why you wont even look my way for 3 weeks. Go to hell Macguire, you don't wanna speak to me then fine. Don’t. I don't want you around no more either you bastard.”

It took one look at the young man's face to make her eyes start watering, and then she was marching back to camp. Like hell she would let him see her cry after that mess.

She almost wanted him to run after her. To apologise and tell her why he can barely look at her, and hold her as she cried. But he was on guard duty so that wasn’t an option, and that wasn't how their relationship worked.

She didn't see him again for a while. She took the work Grimshaw gave her down to the lake, and watched Jack wade in the water trying to catch a crab or a fish while she sewed up a shirt. When she got up to get more clothes she saw Sean conspiring with Hosea once more and refused to even give him another glance. She watched Pearson fish off the dock for a while, whilst she stitched a blanket, she watched the sun get lower in the sky till it lit up like the campfire.

And then out of the corner of her eye she saw a lanky leg step over the log she was on, and then he was sitting beside her.

She didn't look up. He didn't speak. He nudged a bottle of beer her way, and she took it without a word.

The sun had just barely sunk below the horizon when he cleared his throat and took a breath to speak up. She cut him off before he could start.

“Don’t start Sean, I don't want your damn apologies.”

“Well then it's a bloody good thing I wasn't about to apologise love.”

She wished he wouldn’t call her that. It's not like she exactly had time to process the whole being in love revelation she had earlier.

“What the hell do you want then.”

“I want to tell you a secret.”

She scoffed and started to stand up, but he grabbed her waist before she could, and she looked him in the face for the first time since that morning when they fought. “Let me go Sean Macguire, I don't wanna hear it.”

“Oh hush, yes ya do. I couldn't bloody well tell you this mornin’, it weren't my secret to tell you. But I had a little talk with Hosea, and he gave me then blessin’ to share with you.”

He couldn't tell her because it wasn't his to share. So here she was getting angry at him for something that wasn't even his fault. Not that there was no reason at all.

“Dammit Sean, the hell does that have to do with you avoidin’ me like the god damned plague. You could have said you can't tell me and I woulda’ left you the hell alone about it.”

“Now that is a dirty lie Ms. Jones, I have not successfully kept anythin’ from you in my whole life. You knew what I was going to give you for your birthday the day I stole the damned thing. I wasn't able to risk something this important falling out of my big mouth because you distracted me with your beauty.”

He was trying to abate her anger, and the fact that it was nearly working only served to anger her more. How dare he sit there and nearly make her laugh when he was apparently keeping some giant secret from her.

“Fine Sean. What's the big secret that's been makin’ you run away from me like a dog afraid of his own shadow.”

“Well my love, you had better get comfortable, this is quite the tale and I happen to be quite the storyteller.” And before she could tell him to get the hell on with it, he started doing what he does best. Talking.

It took him nearly a fucking hour to get to the point. He told her everything he knew about the ranch plan, every word Hosea had said to him about it, all the way up to him begging Hosea to let him tell Karen about it. By the time he finished, both their beers were gone and everything Karen had known her whole life was slipping through her fingers like the sand beneath their feet.

“-an’ Hosea says that nobody has to go with him, we can all go our separate ways and such but that's what his plan is. Him and the bloody Marstons and Arthur and everyone else they can get are going with him. And Dutch was planning on telling everyone as soon as we had the money to do it and I only know because I’m fuckin’ excellent at eavesdropping. But Arthur caught me sneaking off and told me to keep me trap shut about it so I did.”

She stared at him in stunned silence. Half the gang was plotting a move to New Austin to start a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Finally she managed to get her thoughts together just long enough to spit out the words “The one fucking time you can follow a god damned direction.”

And that was enough to make him laugh. And he sat there and laughed like they weren't getting their worlds turned upside down.

All the things Karen considered to be complete unbreakable truths were shattering. She was looking at this offer of a real life that wouldn't end in her premature death and it terrified her, but at the same time nothing had ever looked so good.

“I'm still mad that you avoided me like that.”

“Don’t think you've ever screamed at me quite like you did this morning Ms. Jones.”

“I did not scream at you, you were on guard duty.”

“You bloody did. The bird flocked out of the trees. Some broad on the street heard you and said ‘I wonder what stupid bloke pissed of that woman’”

“Are you going? To the ranch with Hosea?” She didn’t notice that over time she had practically ended up in his lap until just now.

“Well Ms. Jones, that all depends on where you're planning on going.”

Sean Macguire had confessed his love to her many times, drunk and sober. But she never thought any of them sincere until now. Here was Sean Macguire, willing to follow her wherever she may go. And it terrified her just as much as the idea of the ranch did. But just like the ranch, nothing had ever looked quite so safe, so sweet, so good.

She knew she wasn't ready to tell Sean she loved him yet. It was nice to know he loved her, and that she was hardly going to get rejected should she tell him. But she wasn't ready yet.

So instead she said “I think that I'm gonna go with Hosea and Arthur and them. To be ranchers or whatever the hell they wanna do.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna be ranchers! Though I was never good with bloody livestock.” and that made Karen laugh good and proper.

Karen Jones feels that a few things will always be ultimate truths. She would always despise the hot weather, she would never be good at embroidery no matter how hard she tried, that Sean Macguire loved her to the ends of the earth and back, and that she loved him too.

Being ranchers meant she would likely never have to lose him again, and so ranchers they would be.

#sorry if theres mistakes and also that its so long lmao #karen jones #sean macguire #rdr2 #ranch au #rdr2 ranch au #rdr2 au #everyone lives #Arthur morgan #hosea matthews #headcanons #fic #au #susan grimshaw

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dreamcatcherjiah · 4 years ago

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Hey lovely i realised you were taking requests still...i have a bit of a dramatic one so i dont mind if you dont wanna do it so i have anxiety and depression and when i am feeling really down i sometimes dont answer my phone there was a situation where i was overseas for work and bc of being far away from my bf i got rly depressed and didnt answer my phone and he panicked and nearly flew out to me would you mind recreating that situation with yoongi (seeing he deals with mental illness too)?

Hello love!! Thank you for requesting 💖 For this drabble I’ve drawn from personal experience of how I felt a while ago, so if this is not what you had in mind I'm sorry love. If you feel the need to talk to anyone, please reach out to me, I can be a listening ear or just be there 🥺💖

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

TRIGGER WARNING: DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY

When your boss told you about the business trip to Germany you were so excited you immediately texted Yoongi. This was a huge opportunity for you, enough to shake you out of the new slump you had found yourself in. The trip in and on itself was a piece of cake. You would fly out to Germany a Sunday to be there by Monday, manage a couple of new transactions and write a report for the CEO and fly back by Friday. Simple. Yoongi was ecstatic, so happy about this new opportunity that he couldn’t stop bragging about his wonderful girlfriend who had been promoted and would be travelling the world in no time.

This bragging was endearing and so you had been telling yourself since you told him the news; the problem was that you couldn’t help the tingling at the back of your head telling you that spending time away from him wasn’t what you wanted. You already spent a huge amount of time away from each other when he was on tour, but now you were the one flying away from him, alone, to a foreign country. You didn’t even want to start thinking about how much you would miss him, even less the whole week you would be sleeping alone in a strange hotel room.

Busy with packing and organising documents you just set your phone in the kitchen table and went about your apartment picking things here and there, double and triple-checking if you had everything you would need. Your laptop and phone were inside your little carry on bag and so was your phone charger. The one you couldn’t find was the laptop’s. You put everything upside down looking for it, looking even under the bed, only to find it rolled and tucked in a corner of your suitcase. The sunglasses were in your bag, so was your lip gloss and your purse, all your credit cards and your ID, your passport. You were double-checking everything again when you heard the code being punched in the keypad. Waiting just a little longer, you heard the pit-pat of Yoongi’s feet against the floor getting closer and closer to your room.

“I should have known you were packing,” he said, hugging you and leaving a soft kiss to your cheek, “you weren’t answering your phone.”

Giving him a guilty look you apologised for worrying him and kept on packing while he showered. That night you were laying awake waiting for the alarm to ring while Yoongi snored away on the other side of the bed. You would miss him so much, his soft snores and the little pout he made when he slept deeply. Noticing the numbness enveloping your head again, you turned your whole body and buried your head in Yoongi’s chest. He was the best buffer against your darkest moments.

Before going to the airport and against Yoongi’s moaning — “you have checked this already a hundred times, love.” — you checked everything again, turning off the electrical appliances and closing all the taps. You were really bad at saying goodbye and your boyfriend did know that. With a sweet kiss and several whispered I love you’s you took the taxi to the airport and silenced the tiny voice in your head that was trying to list every single thing that could go wrong.

Conference after conference you noticed how your brain got slower. You were alone all the time while you managed to do your job by keeping yourself busy and not thinking much. You arrived at your hotel so late at night that the only thing you had the strength to do was showering and dropping on the bed to try and get some sleep.

You were missing Yoongi so much it physically hurt but you didn’t want to call him. He was three times as busy as you were, even forgetting to eat or sleep if he got too hooked in producing a song. Calling him and telling him you were feeling numb again and that you wanted to hold him and never let go would only worry him. When he called there were two possible scenarios; you either felt guilty for not picking up and worrying him further, or you felt a sudden rush of tears filling your eyes seeing how you longed for him to be there with you. The slower the days passed, the stronger the urge to bury yourself amongst the blankets in the hotel bed and sleep grew. By Wednesday it took you nearly half an hour to convince yourself to pull your body out of the bed. Yoongi had given up calling and started flooding your phone with texts since he woke up until he finally fell asleep quite later than recommended. You were making him worry and that made you feel worse.

You found yourself getting distracted from the most insignificant task with memories from the first days of your relationship, how shy Yoongi was and how he wouldn’t call you after a day afraid that he was being pushy. The day he had opened up to you about how he felt and you both cried when you found out you had more things in common than met the eye. On Thursday your boss called you out for being absentminded in the middle of a meeting, he had caught you daydreaming about what Yoongi would be doing back home. You wouldn’t know even if he was already awake because you had switched off your phone, overwhelmed by guilt, nostalgia and the numbness on your head that didn’t let any rational thought go through. Missing him, the crushing sadness and the tight knot in your throat were making it difficult to breathe and function properly. When you got to your hotel room that night, slipping off your shoes and checking your work email on your phone, a notification pops up and you frown, opening your personal email.

Min Yoongi

To: [email protected]

Subject: I am desperate.

My love, you have stopped answering my calls, you ignore my texts and you’re alone in a foreign country. I know what loneliness can do to you and I only want you to be safe. If I don’t receive an answer to this email or any of the thousand texts I’ve sent you I am flying to Germany to make sure you’re alright. I just want to know you are safe, if not okay.

I love you with my whole heart.

Yoongi.

Tears had started flowing halfway through the message, making you feel so guilty that you closed the email and were calling Yoongi, not caring about anything that wasn’t hearing his voice at the other side of the line. The tones of the call were low reminders: you have time to hang up, he will be worried, you will only worry him more. But you pushed on, ignoring your anxiety’s voice and waited with bated breath until you heard Yoongi answer the call.

“Y/N, are you feeling okay? Where are you right now? Have you showered?”

You silenced his endless questions with a quiet sob and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh, how you’d missed his voice! And you told him while sobbing, how hard it had been, how lonely and sad you had felt and how anxious of disturbing him that you had gone back to not picking up the phone and wanting to sleep all day long. He sounded agitated and out of breath but you were so focused on not letting your anxiety drive you into a panic that you didn’t notice.

“Do something for me, sweetheart,” he was saying, now slower and calmer after finally being able to contact you, “get out of your work clothes and take a hot shower. I won’t hang up and be here with you okay? Can you do this for me?”

Your heart swelled at how he was still taking care of you from so far away. He knew exactly what to do when your thoughts numbed. He would always make you take a shower, drink some water if you couldn’t stomach any food and lay with you while his breathing brought you back. He was not pushy, he didn’t make you talk or explain why you were feeling the way you felt. He was just there, a strong dependable presence that kept you sane.

Listening to him hum to you about his day and things the rest of his friends had done, you went into the bathroom and undressed slowly. You sat a short bit on the toilet lid and just listened to his voice until you almost smiled at some funny thing Jungkook told him to tell you. In a better mood, you entered the shower and let the spray run down your head, the hot water untangling the many knots on your back and shoulders. You imagined that the heat from the shower was a hug from Yoongi, a warm embrace that you could feel through the distance and you loved him even more than you thought possible. Hearing him still talking while worked away at his keyboard made you smile and you switched off the water, getting out and covering your body with a huge white fluffy towel.

“You’re finished, my love?” He asked and your heart swelled again.

“Yes. And I’m feeling much better, Yoongi. You’re the best.”

“Well, your day with me isn’t over, missy. Now, I have a ton of new songs separated into genres that I want you to listen to while you lay on the bed and we talk until you fall asleep, okay? Tomorrow, before you know it, you will be back here with me and I’ll be able to hug you to sleep. Is this good enough for now?” He whispered into your ear, as if unsure if you wanted that, but as always he knew perfectly what you needed.

Wearing your pyjamas and under the blankets of the huge bed, Yoongi played songs, melodies, beats, anything he was preparing for release or working on. You two chatted away about where would you go once you could go on vacation together and you fell asleep with a smile on your lips hearing the man you loved telling you he loved you back and finally feeling comfortable and safe again.

#hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #requested by anon #yoongi fanfic #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi #bts yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #jiah:r.txt

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

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NOO i swear you're not taking any of my time huhu i love talking to you😭😭 tbh i usually have time at nights but i'd rather use them to sleep or watch some tbz content bc my a test every 3 weeks schedule is still going but i have a lot more to do now so i'd usually spent the first 1 weeks with taking as much rests as i can 🥲

and no worries ur not making me feel pressured to reveal myself!!!! im just saying this bc i really wanna be friends w u,, but if i ever leave tumblr then i WILL OFC I WILL TELL U

hehehe yea i love trying new hobbies no matter how bad i may be at them just to find the feeling of joy when i feel like im truly enjoying them, and with writing even when what i write has nothing to do with my thoughts it really help in keeping my minds busy instead of drifting away into bad thoughts🥲🥲 i do video editing too sometimes, photography, but its kinda hard thanks to the pandemic so yeah,,, editing sunwoo video it is for me😭😂 i hope you found ur getaway too!!! or did u already?

I C THE NEW ENHYPEN POST OMG IVE BEEN SEEING THEM A LOT LIKE A WHOLE LOT EVERYWHERE not to mention im also a shawol so i know that ni-ki was one of the shinee kid?? in shinee's japanese concert😭😂 but i havent found the time to know abt the other members yet so--

ANW I RLLY LOVE THAT FOR UU its good that you're getting a lot more comfortable❤️ so does that mean you are currently on a holiday? yea coming back to uni really sucks sometimes i hated it a lot too but these days i've gotten a lot closer to my friends and i miss them so much now that we havent seen each other for months🥲

i'm pretty good! all the preparation has been kinda a lot and my research supervisor has been kinda laterep lately which is making me super anxious most of the time bc i really need to get everything done by august😭😭 but yeah writing has helped me A LOT in shifting my thoughts and making me feel better, i hope i am taking care of myself enough

how about you dana? are you taking care of yourself ? - 🍋🍋

omg just sleep LMAO just fkin sleep it's fine tumblr isn't worth your physical health HAHAHAHHAHA yeah your 3-week test schedule sounds disgustang fam idk how you do it so props to you

omg... tbh photography is a great way to ?? learn about life?? does that make sense lol i started photography in 2013 and now i've shifted more into filming, writing and editing so it was a very nice shift and transition for me. i guess my getaway definitely includes writing fics, i'm on a video production intern right now too so i get to shoot in studios and edit the footage later on. i was supposed to go on a chill photoshoot with a friend but covid said fuck you LMAO but i might get paid to help my freshies do their committee photoshoot at the end of the year so that'll be a blast. i love brainstorming themes for photoshoots and like templating designs - i think i'm an all-rounded creative person, as in into creatives [not boasting about... my creativity] but i definitely love the freedom in expression and i'm starting to realise that i'm picking up every single medium i could possibly utilise to exploit this freedom of expression thing: writing, dancing, filming, photography, creative designs, you name it LOL

yes niki was a shawol!! he went for a tokyo dome concert of shinee's and key hugged him while he cried LMAO he said it was like 2014 or smth which meant that niki was fucken... 9... stanning enha has been a JOURNEY for me because all this while i've been stanning groups that are generally older than me. even with skz jeongin i began to feel a tad awkward because he's younger, and with txt i basically couldn't whole-heartedly stan them because 3/5 of them are younger than me... then you have enha whose maknae is younger than my sister?! like... fam... how... why... am i that old now... omg

yeah i am on holiday! my sem ended in late april and since then i've been pretty much rotting at home, handling my intern projects, writing, learning some choreos for more covers and sobbing over kdramas owo the tissues wasted LMAO i love this break for myself honestly cause the sem was such a shitshow and i lost a friend or two over some nonsense and i had conflict with a couple of others too so while i do miss their nonsense, i really need the time away from these idiots who act like 5 year olds sometimes

omg i hope your supervisor knows not to pressure you too much, like work-life balance is a thing there right... >.>

i'm so happy you're writing that shit out. back before i began to write i felt so suffocated and i can't imagine my life if i didn't go into writing so i'm glad you found this portal to escape, even if it is for a moment!

i'm taking of myself... by keeping myself at home LMAO i haven't seen friends for like... weeks now, which is pretty surprising given the circumstances, because we're not on lockdown and you can still go out in pairs and i've had friends trying to get me out of the house to hang but i'm... so lazy... and frankly just uninterested in a social life now. idk how i shd feel about that, it's like the introvert rlly hopped the fuck out after i spent majority of the past sem acting like an extrovert.

if you consider sleeping at 4am every night taking care of myself then HEY i guess im fit as a pickle HAHAHAHHAHAHAH

#tth.lemonanon

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daddysfangirls-marvel · 5 years ago

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Purple (3/?)

Summary: Can you write a bnha story where the reader is an experiment like a Nomu and is the twin sister of Shinso and she went missing years ago at like 5years old. She has a bunch of different quirks but her body can’t handle them so she is always hurt or bandaged. Maybe Aizawa takes her under his wing with Shinso and she falls for Kirishima? She kind of acts like a five-year-old but flinches at sudden noises and movements and has PTSD similar to that of an abused child. Thank you and lots of love! -BC

1 | 2 | 3

“(Y/n)? ... (Y/n) is that you?”

Shinso asked as he took a few steps forward but (Y/n) herself took a few steps back and actively hid behind Aizawa. “ (Y/n) it’s me... Don’t you-it’s me. It is you, isn’t it?”

Shinso rushed forward trying to get close to her but Aizawa scarf caught and pulled him back. Aizawa quickly asked Nezu to take (Y/n) away as he held on to Shinso.

“NO” Shinso screamed as he watched her leave. “ come back, (Y/n), it’s you. Please don’t leave me. (Y/N), (Y/N)-” Suddenly he was flung back into a wall knocking the breath out of him. He looked at his mentor wide-eyed as he gasped for air.

“Calm the hell down. You’re scaring her.” Aizawa said as he kneeled in front of him. “ You’re going to catch your breath and calm down. Then you’re going to explain to me how you know (Y/n)”

“Sh-she was gone... they said...but she’s her” Shinso began to hyperventilate and gasp for air. Aizawa was shocked and very confused as Shinso began to sob uncontrollably and very openly in front of him. Not really understand or know what to do he untied the boy from his scarf and sat in front of him. He sat quietly and waited for his student to get all his tears out and calm down enough to actually talk about it.

“(Y/N), you can slow down now” (Y/N) yelped as quickly stopped and dropped her principle she had picked him up without realizing it. She’d blame it on his plushie appearance.

“T-that boy... who..?” she questioned softly

“Oh that’s Aizawa’s student he’s been training and mentoring him privately.”

“He knew my name I don’t know him.”

“I’m sure Aizawa will talk to him and figure things out. How about we go have some tea in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Yes please”

It took about 30 minutes for Shinso to stop crying and then there were a good 15 minutes of silence before he spoke.

“I had a twin sister... She was ...soft, kind, caring, she was amazing she was going to do great things...When we were kids we use to play at the park a lot begged mom to go every day. One day we went to the park and she asked to play hide and seek we did rock, paper, scissors to see who would be it she lost but I told her I’d be it anyways... I covered my eyes and counted to 10. I opened my eyes and she was gone. I looked everywhere...never found her...

“I looked and looked and looked. Everyone else gave up my parents, the police, the heroes. Everyone gave up on my sister but me. I never gave up I kept going I’ve never stopped. She’s the reason I’m here none of those shitty heroes could find her. I’m going to be a hero and find her and save her and save any other kid that has gone and been forgotten. And any other kid that thinks their a villain. I’m going to save them all... I was going to save her... but she’s already been saved. She’s been found.

Who found her? when? why didn’t they bring her home?... she- why’d she run away?”

“When did she go missing?” Aizawa asked he had to be sure they were the same (Y/n) and not just sharing a name and appearance.

“We had just turned four. Where is she going?”

“You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“It hurts to talk about her. Why did she run away?”

“How-”

“Answer my questions” Shinso demanded Aizawa could see the boy was on the edge of tears again.

“The League of Villains more specifically All for One had her. Remember All Might’s last fight, we found her in the rumble. She didn’t remember anything but a name and she wasn’t even sure it was hers. We did a full search of her on the national database but nothing came up. Her fingerprints were damaged and her face was beaten so bad facial recognization didn’t work we barely had anything we could find anything.

“She’s been here the whole time?”

“I’ve had her for about a year but she’s been going to school for the last couple of months. She’s in the hero course.”

“She doesn’t remember me,” Shinso said as he bites his lip fighting tears that were starting to come back

“... her favorite color is purple. Maybe she remembers you and doesn’t realize it.” Shinso looked up with a small smile and a bit of hope.

“She’s been through a lot, a lot has changed about her and it’s difficult but she’s slowly getting used to life again. I know you want to see your sister again but you’re going to have to be patient and take it real slow.” Aizawa said standing up and pulling Shinso up with him.

“C-can I see her now, please?”

“Sorry, not right now but don’t worry you’ll see her. I just need you to wait right now while I figure everything out.”

“But I’ll see her right?” he asked a bit more desperate as he held on to his mentor's hand. He gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You’ll see her, I promise”

Aizawa took the time and walked Shinso to his dorm. Neither of them really had anything to say they both took the short walk as a time to process everything that has happened and that they’ve learned in a short time. They stop in front of the dorm.

“Is she happy?” Shinso asked looking at his feet.

“I believe so, yes”

“That’s good”.

“She has a family”

The next day Aizawa was in a slump and everyone notice he just couldn’t get the fact that she actually had family out of his head. They could find out and take her away at any minute legally they had a right to she was their daughter but she was his daughter too.

“what?” Mic questioned not fully paying attention

“Her real full name is (Y/n) Shinso, she has a mother, father, and twin brother. She went missing in a park by her house when she was four. They spent 6 months looking for her before everyone gave up her brother was the only one who kept looking... She has a family that doesn’t know she’s alive.”

After his initial conversation with Shinso Aizawa immediately looked into the information and found out everything he said was true and that his sister was considered still missing and a cold case.

“Isn’t finding her family a good thing? why do you look so sad?” All Might questioned as he saw Aizawa get gloomier as he spoke.

“They... their family they can take her and -”

“You want to keep her. You love her” Midnight said with a squeal it was so cute Aizawa with emotions

“Of course I love her she’s my daughter.” he jumped to the defense.

“She is,” Mic said patting his friend on the back

“But you need to inform her family that you’ve found her. You can’t keep her if she already has a family especially if they still want her.” King Vlad with his logic.

“I know... I’m going to see them this afternoon.”

“SO SOON I THOUGHT YOU LOVED HER “ Mic screamed heartbrokenly.

“He still has to think about her and her parents”

“YOU'RE HER PARENT”

“Mic shut up-”

“she doesn’t remember no one has to know.”

Everyone stopped and looked at Present Mic “ Are you endorsing child kidnapping?”

“I.... maybe?”

“Besides her brother knows Hitoshi Shinso is her brother and he’s seen her. He probably already told her parents... I’ve set up a meeting with them this afternoon. I’ll tell them.”

“We’re going to lose our baby”

“I’m starting to question where your priorities are. I’m really concerned.”

“You’ve been off lately, What’s wrong?” Kirishima asked as he leaned over the edge of his bed looking at (Y/n) who was laying on the floor looking up at the ceiling.

“huh?”

Kirishima crawled out of his bed and laid down on the floor next to her. “ What’s wrong?”

“... I met this boy”

“A boy?” Kirishima asked he could feel his stomach drop and a tight feeling in his chest.

“yeah, he knew my name but I didn’t know his. He... he looked like he knew me. He looked scared. He was screaming my name.” (Y/N) turned to her side she looked at him “ I- who was that boy?”

“What did he look like?”

“He had bags under his eyes like Aizawa and his hair was a pretty purple. I really liked it but not as much as your red.” she gently pulled a strain of his red hair and he smiled.

“ I think I know who you’re talking about. His name is Hitoshi Shinso his quirk has something to do with brainwashing he’s in the general education classes but he is working his way into the hero course.”

“How does he know me?”

“I don’t know baby but we’ll find out”

For some reason (y/n) felt good hearing him call her baby, it made her happy. She wanted to hear it more often. Blush dusted her cheeks as she curled into his side. They’d figure things out. Later.

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#hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x reader #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima Eijiro fanfiction #fanfiction

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housemartius · 5 years ago

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i’ve had an hc that dakota is native american for a long time now, and after reading this awesome post i was inspired and like “what if he and piper were cousins??” so let me share some things i’ve imagined about them so far (warning: this is one long ass post):

- they were both born and raised in tahlequah, oklahoma (not in a reservation tho bc there’s no cherokee reservation in oklahoma, rick’s an idiot who doesn’t research anything)

- dakota is two years older than piper and that made him a bit overprotective of her while growing up. even when they were kids, piper got a lot of attention from mostly other boys (which would later make her feel super self conscious of her own looks) and dakota would pick up on her discomfort and shoo away all of them in an instant

- like seriously, he’s a pretty observant kid and piper would always flinch when a boy got too close for comfort. so dakota was always more than ready to help her out

- imagine how overjoyed grandpa tom was when he found out he was going to be a grandpa, twice, in such a short span of time. dakota had barely just turned 1 year old when tristan announces the woman he’s dating is pregnant tom cried so much, bless him

- now grandpa is no fool though. he knew something was up with the ppl his children were dating, he knew they weren’t ordinary folks. and he suspected his future grandchildren wouldn’t be exactly ordinary either. and how right he was

- just a few months after he was born in september 1992, baby dakota was taken on a little trip with his mom and grandfather around tulsa and they came across a huge vineyard

- it’s january and it’s hecking cold (like 50ºF/10ºC) and the vines, as you’d expect, are basically dead. that’s when something remarkable happens: the plants start to reach out towards dakota and the closer he is to them, the livelier they get

- grandpa is shocked to say the least but he plays it cool. he just turns towards his daughter and calmly asks “care to explain please” to which she then proceeds to spill the beans about how she met the roman god of wine whose son is currently being held by grandpa tom

- tom is really surprised that his daughter dated an actual immortal deity from ancient times, or that they even exist at all (he thought greek myths, and therefore roman by extension, were a bunch of bull). yet at the same time he’d been suspecting the dude wasn’t completely human for a while now...

- in the end he happily accepts both his daughter’s love for bacchus (if that’s even who he really is) and the son they had, and never loves dakota any less even now that he knows he’s a demigod

- except they don’t tell tristan bc 1. bacchus told dakota’s mom to keep it a secret (whoops), 2. tristan’s a skeptic who doesn’t believe in any kind of myths so what’s the point and 3. tristan’s sweetheart is pretty high guard about her own identity and grandpa’s noticed this and he thinks she’s hiding the truth from his son for a good reason (again, he is such a skeptical man, he’d probably think they were all insane)

- april 1994. piper is born and an almost 2 y/o dakota is finally introduced to the cousin he’d been hearing so much about

- both love their grandfather and listening to stories about their culture. and grandpa loves that his grand-kids are so keen on learning

- they live a pretty happy childhood overall. apart from dakota’s innate abilities to making vines grow whenever he walks by (though he remains oblivious to this bc his mom goes to great efforts to ensure he doesn’t find out so soon, he’s still a little kid after all), none of his other powers manifest all that much when he’s a toddler. and neither do piper’s

- ofc, being demigods they’re constantly exposed to the danger of being discovered by monsters but they luck out and continue living in ignorant bliss of their godly parentage

- they love being outside. playing, napping, talking, whatever it is, they don’t like being indoors. they’re always running around everywhere, climbing trees, rolling around in the grass, etc it’s a very rare occurrence when they manage to return home with clean clothes

- they just have a looot of energy and they like using it. getting them to calm down is a challenge in itself, they’re always goofing around. whether they’re having a nice family dinner (food fights tend to occur more often than not), or watching cartoons before bedtime (reenacting cool fight scenes is a must!)

- but then one day, just a few weeks after his 8th birthday, dakota shows up at tristan’s house with his mom and she says she needs to talk with his uncle and grandfather

- the kids are told to go play for a little while in the backyard to let the grown ups have some privacy

- dakota is uncharacteristically quiet. piper notices it right away, how her cousin’s shoulders are slacked and his eyebrows furrowed in distress. she asks what’s wrong, what happened to make him so sad

- “i have to move away” he says. piper is shocked, starts asking why. why, where to, and can’t the whole family go with him?

- “no. just me. somewhere far away”. “but why?!”. “because it’ll be bad if i don’t”

- the rest of the day goes by in a blur. piper can’t understand what’s happening. why does dakota have to go all alone? why can’t her aunt go too? why don’t her dad or her grandfather try to stop them?

(- later, when piper demands her dad for explanations, tristan only says what his sister told him: that dakota needs to go somewhere that’ll be better for him, that piper’s aunt can’t take care of him by herself. grandpa tom tells her the same thing whenever piper turns to him but he knows. his daughter told him the truth)

- saying goodbye is the only moment that seems to last an eternity though. piper is full on crying and sobbing, holding on to dakota with all her strength and begging her cousin to stay, stay and everything will be okay bc he’ll be with her and all the people who love him

- dakota cries too, though not as hard. he’s barely keeping it together but he’s the older cousin and he needs to be strong for piper

- inside though he’s terrified of what’s happening to him. to him and to his mom and now his dear little cousin and his uncle and grandpa. he wants to stay but bacchus was clear during his sudden unexpected visit: he needs to go to the wolf house right away

- his mom takes him there. this goodbye is even more terrible than the previous one. in the midst of all the crying he promises that he’ll be okay, that he loves her and will visit as soon as he can

- dakota hadn’t had the fortune (or permission) of visiting his mom and granddad back in tahlequah often. and the few times he had managed, piper had been away with her dad on his trips looking for a job as an actor in los angeles

- one day, now 13 y/o, he was at his mom’s place with his grandfather too, just sitting and talking and enjoying each other’s company when they decided it was time to tell him the horrible news: his grandpa had been diagnosed with lung cancer

- tom reassured him all throughout his grandson’s hysterics that he felt fine and that he was at peace with the situation

- and then dakota asked the dreaded question

- “... how long?”

- “... soon”

- when dakota made it back to camp he started asking around for possible cures, talking with praetors and centurions and just about anyone who might help him

- though in the end he didn’t find any medicine that could possibly save his grandfather

- and it’s not like the romans really cared for helping outsiders either

- the day he got the news grandpa tom had passed away, just a little over 2 months later, he refused to leave his bunk bed for the remainder of it and it took his two centurions to force him out of it the next morning

(- dakota swears that, out of all the days he’d felt the most lonely and in need of the warm comfort of his family, that had been the most painful one he’d endured in his whole life)

(- he also wondered if piper had known about their grandfather’s condition, and for one moment he actually hoped she didn’t just so she could be spared of going through the same despair he and the rest of their family had)

(- he’d also wished, more ardently than ever before, to be able to hug his beloved little cousin again just like he had so many times years before)

- fast forward to 2010. dakota is standing with the rest of the romans at cj, staring at a greek ship that quickly approaches camp

- his long time friend jason is said to be on board and dakota is just dying to give the dude the longest and most bone crushing hug ever

- plot twist: it’s piper who gets the pleasure of receiving the longest and most bone crushing hug ever. but she returns it tenfold rip dakota’s back

- their reunion was a hazard mix of tears, laughter and wrestling. he and jason happily gave piper a tour of the camp, though tbh she didn’t really pay attention to much, catching up with her fave cousin was obviously the priority

- during her quest to save the world, she iris messages dakota as regularly as she can and they talk for hours on end, sharing stories from their past, their family, their beloved grandpa tom whom they missed terribly every single day, everything really

- piper confides in him how much her dad’s lack of interest and pride for cherokee culture has rocked her own, how growing up with him so absent from her life and so worried with rejecting everything cherokee/native american related had made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin

- dakota takes all this in silence and just lets her get it all out. he hears her every complaint and insecurity and fear. then he starts telling her the stories their grandfather had told them

- he tells at least 2 different ones every night they talk, always with a smile on his face, always trying to replicate the exact same tone and pace their granddad used

- and it eventually gets piper to smile too

- one night it’s dakota who confesses how much he regrets not visiting tahlequah more often, how he wishes he’d spent more time with thomas before he’d passed away, how he wished he’d been with him during those last few days if not to just hear him going on and on about cherokee myths like he loved to

- that gets piper crying in no time. dakota cries too. they just spend a good 10 minutes sobbing together through their reflections in the watery rainbow, neither saying much

- “i’m glad he told us. the stories i mean”, dakota says when they’ve calmed down. “feels like he gave us little pieces of himself bit by bit that’ll never go away”

- “yeah... it really does”

- when the war’s finally over, piper and dakota visit each other often, though piper’s the one who goes to cj more often since dakota’s a centurion and has his plate full most of the time

- they’re still as goofy and energetic around each other as ever, like the time they spent away from each other was like clicking pause on a movie and now they’ve hit play and continued on from there

- still hate being trapped indoors. when there’s camp meetings they both need to attend they just can’t help but joke around. everyone else dreads going to those now thanks to these idiots

- dakota isn’t as chaotic as piper so he somewhat helps to keep that side of her in check

- when leo accompanies her during her visits though... no point in even trying to hold back this Mess, dakota’s tried before and it was the most stressful and tiring day of his fucking life

- piper constantly teases dakota about his crush on her half-brother michael. he very much regrets the day she ever saw how he acted around the son of venus (a blushy neck scratching mess)

- wow this is getting long fhdkds anyway!! they’re amazing kids who love each other to death and constantly support each other through good and bad times, and they’re proud af to be cherokee and they’ll treasure their beloved grandpa tom and his teachings till the end of their lives, and if anyone ever wants to hear a story, they’re the right kids to go to!

#piper mclean #dakota #pjo #pjo.txt #my headcanons #i spent a lot of time on this and it made me very emotional fdsfjdsk #also if any of the bits regarding cherokee culture seem off or odd or bad then pls let me know and i'll fix wtv needs fixing #i tried to keep it as minimal and vague as possible bc i'm white and an ignorant to the topic

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