#you guys have made a heavy year so much brighter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

godslino · 7 months ago

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that��”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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writers-hes · 5 months ago

Text

Growing Pains | c. berzatto x reader

A broken promise between friends hangs heavy in the Chicago air. He was haunted by a loss, seeking refuge in the city he never considered home. She was a wisp of stardust who finds herself back in the city she always considered home. A rent-dispute sets the stage for them to meet again, only to realize that dreams, both realized and abandoned, are so much brighter when you’re younger. (trauma, mentions of alcoholism, sexual harrassment, angst, some bad words…) A/N: This is entirely different from my other fics and I hope that you enjoy it. I really do.

MASTER LISTS TAGLIST “I want to become an artist,” That was what nine year old Carmen Bezatto told you when you asked him what his dream was. He was shy and kept to himself. You were different. You were magnetic and the boys in class all had a crush on you. The teachers loved you and the girls from the higher years doted on you.

“I want to become an actress or a singer,” you confessed, sitting beside him. The crayon that he was holding was blue and he set it down. “What are you drawing?”

“A car,” You peered over his shoulder.

“You’re really good Carmen,”

“Carmy,” he whispered, his heart beating fast. You look at him in confusion. “Call me Carmy,”

“Why do you want to become an artist?” you asked him. You were looking at the drawing of spaghetti and meatballs on his sketchpad. He drew it with a crayon.

“It’s what I’m good at,” he shrugged. “I’m not good with words but I’m good at this. Why do you wanna become an actress?”

“I want people to love me! I want to be so rich and buy my mom everything she needs. I want to star in movies. I can also cry on command. See?” you asked. He watches you clench your eyebrows and wobble your lip. Soon the first tear falls. He’s never been so mesmerized by another person before.

“Carmy,”

“Hm?”

“Let’s promise to achieve our dreams and revisit this place after we’ve done it,” you said, sticking out your pinky for him. He beams at you, the rare smiles he gives and intertwines his pinky with you.

“I promise,”

You two made unlikely friends. Carmy was still on the sidelines when he reached high school while you were still in the spotlight. You joined theater. Carmy was sure there were some who still harbored feelings for you. Who wouldn’t? You were the same magnetic, charismatic, charming girl he knew from childhood. Everyone was so sure that you’re on your path to become an actress.

“Carmy!” He turns around and sees you rushing towards him with a smile on your face. You loop your arm with his and walk to the next class together. “You didn’t wait for me,”

“Sorry,” he chuckles lightly, seeing you pout. “You were just talking to some guys and I didn’t want to just stand there,”

“Sorry,”

“It’s okay,” he looks at you.

“I saw you talking to Claire,” you teased. He told you once that he had a crush on her. “What did you guys talk about?”

“She just asked me about homework,” he says looking away.

“You’re so cute, Carmy!” you gushed, pinching his cheek with your free hand. He blushes harder. He should be used to such remarks by now.

“Let’s just go to class,”

“Wait, hold that pose,” he says. School ended and he found you sleeping at the library. He decided to sit in front of you until you woke up. The sun was already setting and it seeped through the windows of the library.

“Huh?” you asked. You were craning your neck to the side to stretch it.

“Hold that pose. I’m sketching,” You look at the paper and the pencil in front of him. “I’m trying to draw different angles,”

“Alright,” you replied. You stayed like that until Carmy says that it’s alright. You watched him draw more details and add more shadows. “You’re really good…but why do I have a mustache?”

“It’s called hatching,” he chuckled. “But it looks like a mustache,” He erases some shades and shows you his sketch. “I know it’s not good…”

“It’s good!” You snatch the piece of paper from him and hold up the portrait beside you. “See? Looks exactly like me,”

“Your nose is crooked,”

“Carmy!” you pouted. He laughed, his curls falling down his face as he hid his smile from you. Your heart beats fast and you look at him. It was your first time actually taking him in. He is beautiful.

“Let’s go home?” he asked after laughing. He tries to take the drawing from you but you snatch it away.

“This is mine as a punishment for saying that my nose is crooked!” you told him, opening the folder that you were sleeping on. He tries to chase it but you keep it.

“I’ll give you a better one!”

“I like this,” you told him earnestly, keeping the folder in your backpack. “When you��re a really famous artist, I’ll sell it for a really expensive price! From Carmen Anthony Berzatto’s earlier work. Come on, Carmy! Let’s get out of here. You promised to walk me home today,” he heard you say. He stands up from his seat and waits for you. He takes your lunchbox for you as usual. Dede likes to cook your and Carmy’s lunches. She makes him bring your lunchbox home. Carmy thinks that she’s just making sure that you’ll still be his friend.

The walk home was usual, your and Carmy’s lunches on either hands, you trying to catch up on his steps no matter how much he tried to slow down. Carmy walks you home and you thank him, hugging him to the side before leaving. You watch him walk away from your window.

Looking back, you and Carmy had always been close. However, sometime in your senior year, you watched him pull himself away from you. It was quick. It felt like someone plucked a rib from you. It was painful. One day, he just decided not to talk to you as much. He doesn’t wait for you during theater practice anymore and he hasn’t been walking home with you. You’d always be walking home, alone. Carmy wasn’t there anymore.

“Carmy, can we talk?” you asked, running after him when he ignored you again. You look up at him with sad eyes and he just looks away.

“For what?”

“Oh, well—I just…” you stammered. You looked at his sweater instead of his face. “I just wanted to know if everything’s fine?”

“It is,” He shrugs you off like you didn’t matter.

“Oh,”

You nod to yourself, looking away. What else was there to say?

“Um, do you…do you want to walk together?” you asked.

“No,”

Your heart drops and you swallow thickly. He hears you whisper something that he doesn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he felt like absolute shit. His mom has been drinking more, Mikey was pushing him away, Richie was giving him a hard time, and Sugar locked herself in her room most of the time. He hasn’t been thinking straight and his home environment was just so draining that he forgot to reserve some of his energy for you. You leave without waiting for him to reply. He watches you run away from him. He should’ve ran after you that afternoon.

The day after that, Carmy thought of seeking you out. He wanted to apologize for how he behaved the past couple of days. He wanted to tell you everything but you were nowhere to be seen.

You returned to school a week after that due to a family emergency. He lost his courage by then. The teachers were kind enough to give you extra credit and you aced them all because soon, you were getting acceptance letters from colleges. When you were younger, you and Carmy both agreed to go to the same university that offered the courses you wanted to major in. You both agreed to go to the same college and rent an apartment together. You were just about to knock on the Berzattos’ door to ask Carmy if your plan would still push through. What Dede said broke your heart, though.

“He didn’t tell you? He left for Copenhagen last night. He got a scholarship from Noma!” she excitedly told you. She blows smoke away from you and your face falters. You shook it off though and decided to congratulate Dede. You emailed Carmy that night but he never replied. You remembered during graduation when Carmy’s family asked you to have a picture with him. You both stood awkwardly as Dede, oblivious as ever, clicked on the shutter multiple times. Sugar felt uncomfortable and looked for your mom but she was nowhere to be seen. Mikey and Richie were giggling among themselves as usual. You went home with a defeated sigh. The acceptance letter in your hand was clenched tightly. You remembered how you and Carmy filled up the forms together. He was fussing over every detail while you laughed at him. Where did it all go wrong?

Your hand shook when you sat on your bed. You couldn’t even celebrate the fact that you were going to college—that you were about to pursue your dreams.

The first person that Carmy wanted to talk to after learning about Michael’s death was you.

He didn’t give himself the time to cry over him; just like how he didn’t give himself the time to cry over his mistake of leaving you without saying anything. Mikey always told him that he was weak because he was sensitive and was in tune with his emotions. He didn’t know that he always had to have to guard up at his own home because he was scared of what his mom and brother might do next.

When he arrived in Chicago for the first time in years, his heart dropped. You weren’t there to pick him up. Who was he kidding? He left you to yourself without so much of an explanation. He didn’t even tell you that he changed his dream. Was it a dream? Or did he pursue it out of spite? To show Mikey that he was better than him? He wanted Mikey to look at him with such jealousy…such envy because Mikey didn’t graduate from college. He was a drop out with too many plans and too many failures. Carmy was better than him. Carmy managed to go to Noma without anyone’s help. He wanted Mikey to seethe when he sees him. So why was he in his brother’s failing sandwich shop instead of cooking for the President?

He’s been looking for you for weeks now but he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t ask Richie because he was ashamed. He just wanted to walk home with you again. He was sure that Sugar knew where you were. She was the type to be in touch with everyone but he never brought himself to it.

When he was in a relationship with Claire, you were momentarily put on his back burner. She was beautiful, he knew that. As kids, you’d always find a way to make Claire talk to Carmy.

“Remember Y/N?” Claire asked. Carmy’s back tenses as he prepares to go to what will soon be The Bear. Claire watched him put his white shirt from the bed.

“Hm?”

“I don’t know. She always found a way to make us talk to each other,” she shrugged. “I used to think you guys would end up together…or were together,”

“Why-why would you think that?” Carmy asked, facing her. He furrows his brows like he was so confused. The notion was foreign to him.

“Everybody thought so too. You walked her home everyday and you’d draw her all the time. You guys were so close. Some guys didn’t bother to ask her out because they thought you were together. I didn’t make a move on you because I thought the same,” she swallows. She feels shy about what she just confessed to him. Did he catch it? “Everyone thought you broke up because you suddenly stopped hanging out,”

Carmy stood there, speechless. What was he supposed to say to that? Why did his girlfriend say that?

“But it doesn’t matter anymore,” he hears her. She gets out of bed and walks over to him. She hangs her arms on his shoulder. “We’re together now,”

“Yeah. We are,” he says, kissing her forehead. He didn’t feel how embarrassed Claire felt. He was thinking about something else.

“Should we invite Y/N to the opening?”

His question caused the chaos to stop. Sugar drops the pen that she used on whatever it was she was writing while Richie raises his eyebrows.

“Or not,”

Sugar looks at him quizzically. She looks at Richie next and then, Eibra. They knew you. You frequented the sandwich shop with your mom when you were younger. Carmy brought you here to piss on Michael.

“What?” he asked. “We don’t have to. Fuck—okay, let’s not,” he stammered, his last word was weak. Sydney was confused. “Anyways, I uh—fuck. Let’s take five,”

“What?” Sugar asks. “No, no, no. We have to finalize this list now, Carm.”

“Yeah, I know that. I-I—“

“Even if we were to invite her, I don’t know where she is anymore,” His heart stops beating. He was so sure she knew.

“What?”

“She left for college,” Richie explained. “Seemed like her whole family left with her too. Their house is occupied by a new family now. We’re surprised you didn’t know. She told us that you guys were still in contact when you left,”

It was his turn to be confused. His mind was racing. Were you alright? Where are you now? Do you remember him? Do you still have the drawing he made of you?

“I totally forgot about her,” Richie confessed, chuckling. Carmy looks at him, his eyes turning into slits. His cousin raises his hand in surrender.

“You didn’t bother to ask?” he asks Sugar. “You grew up with her too, right?” He couldn't help but feel resentful. Why didn’t she treasure you like she treasured everyone else?

“Carm, she was your friend,” He runs his hand through his hair. He closes his eyes and counts to three. “Besides, she disappeared without a word…just like you did. As far as I know, she left first and then, her mom did.”

“Let’s take five,” he declares before leaving.

He rummages through his phone and tries to remember his old email address. He really wanted you to be there. He wanted to hear about your dreams and he wanted you to hear about his. He never found the courage to look you up on the internet. He didn’t want to know the hard truth.

His hands tremble as he holds his phone when Claire’s name pops up from the screen. He shouldn’t be worrying about you—he should be worried about Claire. The girl he loves. The girl he’s always dreamed of. Right, Claire. Claire. Claire Dunlop. They met again by the frozen aisle of the store.

“Hey,”

“Carm,” Her voice soothes him. “Just wanted to…check-in. You left feeling kind of not okay? How are you now?”

“I’m good,” he says. “Just remembered Y/N. I wanted to—uh, I wanted to invite her to the opening…if-if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, it is. She was your best friend,”

“I don’t know how to reach her…would you know?” he swallows. He felt like shit for asking about another girl to his girlfriend. “Claire?”

“Hm, let me ask around. I’m sure somebody knows. She kind of fell out of the radar after you left,” she says. Everyone thought you eloped. She kept that part to herself.

“Cool. Thanks. Let me know,” he says. He looks at the time. “I have to go,”

“Alright,” she says. I love you. She kept that too. “See you tonight?”

“I’ll let you know.” He ends the call and sets his phone down. He rummages through the drawers to look for clues you might have left behind. He wanted to look for you. He didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to do so. It’s not like he has any right to. He pauses, looking at a distance. He tries to rack his brain for that stupid email. He rushes out of the office and sees Sugar.

“Do you remember what my old email was?”

The Bear opens and you weren’t there. Sugar can’t remember his old email. Carmy forbade her to look you up. It could have been as easy as that but he didn’t want to. He can feel himself slipping away from Claire the more he busies himself with work. He tries to busy himself with work because he tries to bury the guilt of leaving you behind. Sugar told him that you went to his childhood home the day after he left Chicago. She said she got into the arts school that you both applied to. You were probably on the way to tell him about the news. He feels horrible.

Carmy knew that despite your charm, you were self-destructive. You were both alike that way. You have the tendency to self-isolate whenever you feel upset. One time, Carmy accidentally said something hurtful towards you. You pushed him away. He had to climb to your window and apologize before everything was alright again. When your mother scolded you, you’d lock yourself in your room and stay in the library until it closed so you wouldn’t have to see your mom. When you didn’t get the role that you wanted for a play, you’d distance yourself from everyone until everybody started to miss you.

“You’re the only one who can get me out,” you once told him. You said it in such a teasing manner that he only brushed it off. He didn’t think about it before but it’s all he’s been thinking about now. Would you let him bring you out again?

Claire broke up with him when The Bear opened. He brought all of his anger out to Richie. He was an island. He was alone and was out of touch. He’d go to work, cook, and then leave. He didn’t talk to anyone. He’d just scream his head off until he blows off the steam. This is the dream, right?

He decided to go out and explore today. He had to go to Aurora, a city near Chicago to meet up with a potential supplier. He wanted to introduce a new item to the menu. He let go of the bucatini and other items. Last night, he stood a foot away from the island, looking at the food he just prepared. They were so intricate…they reminded him of you. All the food was reminiscent of your childhood with him. He didn’t know what happened for him to finally feel the gaping hole in his life shaped like you.

He arrives at the spice store hidden from the main road. It was quaint and the shelves were lined with jars of tea and various spices from around the world. Jugs of flavored vinegars were displayed for purchase. When he entered, the aroma of the jars enveloped his nose. He happened to find this spice store on the list of possible suppliers that Sugar prepared before The Bear opened. He felt right at home with the creaky wooden floors and warm lighting.

“Can I help you, sir?” the attendant from the cashier at the corner asked. He walks over to her and studies her corner. A framed paper caught his eye. It was too easy to miss to the unknowing eye but he saw it. The frame was on the very top, almost touching the low ceiling. His entire world stops and he sees it. He sees you. He sees the drawing that you took from him on that afternoon in the library.

“I…,” he swallows. “Do you know the—the artist of…of that portrait?” he asked, pointing at his sketch.

“Oh. I’m not sure, sir but the owner might know,” the attendant replied. Carmy nods.

“I’m actually here for uh, a meeting? I’m the owner of a restaurant in Chicago and I-I…am here to meet for a possible partnership,”

”Oh! Of course,” she nods, looking at the piece of paper the manager gave. “Mr. Berzatto?”

“Yes,”

”The manager will be here soon. May I lead you to the backroom? Would you like some tea?” she asked. She sees him play with a plastic of tea bears. “Tea bears. It’s the first of its kind. It’s a gummy bear that you can dissolve in water for tea. You can also eat it as is. Would you like to try a flavor? I recommend the blueberry and blue pea,”

”Oh, uh—sure,” he nods, following her to the back. Carmy sits down and the attendant leaves. He looks around the room. The walls had awards and other accolades. The attendant arrives with a cup of hot water and some colorful tea bears.

“Just add one to the water and snack on the rest,” she smiles. He picks up a tea bear and studies it. It kind of reminds him of you. He remembers how much you loved tea. He gifted you exotic and expensive teas every time. He knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but what were the odds? There was only one copy of that drawing in the world and it was supposed to belong to you. The manager arrives just right after he bit on the head of the first bear. Vanilla and raspberry.

”Hello, Mr. Berzatto,” he says. He was a stout man with a kind face. “Sorry for my lateness,”

”I was early,” he says, standing up to shake the other man’s hand.

“Tea bears,” he acknowledges and Carmy smiles a little bit. ”I hope the drive wasn’t too tiring,”

”It wasn’t,” he replied. “I have the documents with me,” He lays the folder on the table with information about The Bear.

“I take it you’re the owner?” he asks Carmy. He nods, and the manager reads over the company profile. He wastes no time asking Carmy about The Bear. Carmy answers them and he’s so tired. He should have made Sugar come here instead. The meeting ends without a fuss.

“Do you have any questions?”

“It’s not really about the spices but the portrait on the counter. I want to have a portrait made,” he says.

“Oh,” the manager looks at the cup of tea that Carmy drank. “I’m not quite sure but I’ll be sure to ask the owner. Bea has a couple of spice samples ready for you outside,”

Carmy stands up and exits the room. He drives home with a brown paper bag and a picture of the portrait that hangs on the wall. It was you. It was you.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The spices for the new menu sits on his kitchen counter, untouched. He thinks about it. What happened? He thought you were an actress. That was what your dream was. He couldn’t help it. The itch that his fingers have makes him reach for his phone. Before he knew it, he was on Google, typing your name.

“Fuck!” he shouts, throwing the phone from across his bed. “Fuck, no, no, no.” He shuts his eyes close and pinches his nose. Why now? The Bear was in shambles. Richie hated him, Claire hated him, he hated himself. Was he only reaching out to you because he knew that he wouldn't feel the hatred?

“There were some problems with the renter of your house in Chicago,” you heard. You looked up from your office table and frowned.

“I thought that house was rented properly?” you asked. It’s been ten years since you went there. Or was it five? You couldn’t keep count anymore. That house was a house of horrors that you’d never want to revisit again. Hell, you never wanted to set foot in Chicago again.

“The renters want to meet up with you. They said that you purposely kept important information from them when you leased the house. They were complaining about the backyard and would not budge until you go there,” he says. You pinched your nose.

“Can’t we look for other interested renters?” you were annoyed. ”Or just give them a refund?”

”Sadly, nobody wants to rent the house anymore because it hasn’t been renovated for years,”

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Alright,”

Your flight to Chicago was long. Your college was quickly spent in New York. You decided not to stay there. You thought of your old house. It could have been sold ten years ago but you didn’t want to. Your uncles and aunts all agreed that if there were no renters, it was going to be sold. You couldn’t defy their demands, they all inherited the house with your mom from their father. You all shared the profits yearly and you didn’t want to sell the house. You couldn’t just leave everything behind entirely.

Stepping back in Chicago was…something. There was a rush of emotions that filled you and as you met up with your driver, you felt weak. You didn’t want to be back here but you had no other choice. You were tied down to that two storey house. You were just hoping that you won’t run into anyone. The plan was to stay here, four days at most and then leave before anyone else sees you. You didn’t want to make up stories in your head again about how you and him kept in contact when you knew that it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. None of it was. You just wanted to be comforted by the lie that you tried so hard to believe.

The hotel was nice. You were thinking of driving outside of Chicago to check some matters before going to New York. The next morning, you decided to go out for a run and grab coffee. You wondered if your old favorite cafe still opened. It was fairly far from your old home and The Beef. You wondered if people still went there. It wasn’t hip and the food was greasy but their brewed coffee was heaven.

The city has changed a lot since the last time you’ve been here. You don’t remember the streets being this way. Vacant lots turned into buildings and skyscrapers. It was odd. You once knew every nook and cranny of the city but not anymore. That afternoon, when you arrived at your old house, you couldn’t even recognize the street. The old houses were torn to pieces and were built with modern houses. The only houses that remained exactly the same were yours and the Berzattos’. It seemed empty, though. It used to have cars and chaos but it was quiet. As if…it hasn’t been lived in. You paid it no mind and knocked on your old door, revealing the new tenants of the house.

They immediately showed you what their problem was. Fucking grass. You booked a flight and stayed at an expensive hotel for grass. It wasn’t the same as in the pictures. That was their main concern. You stood there, in your backyard, mouth pressed into a thin line in annoyance.

“I see,” you only nodded. “I can arrange landscaping services for you,”

“But that would be expensive. The only reason why we rented this old house is because we wanted to have a garden. Otherwise, we would’ve rented somewhere that’s actually…nicer,” the tenant says. Seeing your souring expression, she added, “This place is nice…homey. I can’t afford landscaping services,”

You only nodded, trying to think of someone who might know a landscaper.

“Can you give me until tomorrow to sort this out?”

“Sure,’

When you arrived at the hotel that night, you thought of the people you knew who had good lawns and backyards. Your agent can’t obviously do shit. You have to fire him soon. All the services in Chicago were way more expensive than you were willing to spend. Who had a good lawn…whose mother always had a manicured garden?

“Fak!”

The man rushes into the kitchen, looking at the ensemble of people gathered where Sydney and Carmy usually stood.

“The light,” Carmy pointed. “It’s doing that thing again,” The light buzzes and blinks, as if Carmy ordered it to do so. He had that ability sometimes. He can make the world move.

“I got it, I got it,” he says, going out and coming back soon with a ladder and his tool box. He listens to the crew made up of Richie, Tina, Sydney, Carmy, and Sugar bicker while he tries to fix it. They always bickered and it stresses him out most of the time. ”Ugh, you guys! Stop screaming at each other!”

They ignored him, Carmy was in a screaming contest with Richie while the others tried to pacify the situation. Their relationship hasn’t gone back to the way it was after the fridge incident.

”We’re closed today, right?” Fak asked, trying to tighten the screw.

“Yes, darling,” he hears Sugar.

“Great because Y/N asked me to come by their old house,” he says. He takes note of the sudden silence and takes it as his permission to continue. “She’s back in town and wanted me to check their lawn because she told me that she remembered how nice Ma’s garden was, remember? Anyways, she wanted me to check and get her a connect with a gardener or a landscaper,”

“Wh-what?” Carmy sputters. “What the fuck are you saying, Fak? Y/N hasn’t been here in-in-in fucking years,”

”Yeah but she’s here,” he shrugs. He climbs down the ladder with a smile on his face. “It’s a good thing I never changed my phone number. She wouldn’t have been able to call me if I did,”

Carmy visibly disintegrates before everyone in the kitchen. He stands there, memories of his abandonment haunting him and his eyes blinking rapidly. You were in town?

”When are you meeting her?”

“Today,”

Fuck. If only he didn’t promise himself to do something today. He needed to focus. He didn’t need you, right?

After treating Fak to a quick dinner, you immediately went home. He sadly told you that he wished you’d visit The Bear. Carmy was here now and he opened the restaurant. He told you that you’ll be welcome anytime as long as you tell him first so he can tell Richie. Richie was the front of house staff now and Fak said that Richie improved, like a lot. He showed you photos of Sugar’s cute baby. He told you that Eibra and Tina still worked there but most surprisingly, he told you that Mikey was dead.

That part shook you. You were never really close with him but he was always nice to you. Carmy idolized him and always sought his approval. It must have been hard for him. Hearing that he didn’t attend the funeral didn’t surprise you, though. You always imagined that Carmy will do some fucked up things if it really came down to it. Years of not knowing what Carment Berzatto became brought both a hollow feeling in your chest and assurance. You never had to know if he was better without you. You chewed on the hangnail on your perfectly manicured finger. Carmy was here again and so were you. Would it be so bad to see him again? Even if it was just a glimpse…would it be so bad to see how he was after all these years?

The night before left you with eyebags. The thought that you and Carmy were here woke you up all night. You didn’t know what to do. Does he know that you’re here too? You tried to cover the bags with a concealer you brought. You were on auto-pilot as you went to the basement to take your rental car. You were going to Aurora today to look over the shop. What was a drive anyway? You were in Aurora every other month for the business that you built when you were younger. It proved to be successful, though.

You arrived at your first business venture, The Alchemist. You were young and full of wonder when you named it. The Alchemist…you used to call your mother that because she made so many things in the kitchen with nothing. It was a way to remember her legacy and other mixes that she made when you were younger. Now, though, you asked chefs and homecooks to make recipes for pre-mixed spices for your business. You always went back to ‘Alchemy No. 1’, a spice blend made and frequently used by your mother when she was still alive.

You entered the store lined with jars of spices and flavored vinegars. The smell of herbs that you sourced from all over the world create an aroma that reminds you of home.

“How is everything?” you asked her.

“Mr. Lee just is about to close a deal with a promising restaurant,”

”He told me about it,” you told Dana. “Sorry if I can’t come here as often as I’d like,”

”That’s alright,” she assures you. You pick a packet of assorted tea bears that you give to the customers to sample and open it. Taking a pink one, you melted the bear in the paper cup with hot water to drink the raspberry and vanilla flavored tea. “Mr. Lee makes the job easier, really,”

”I’m glad,” you told her. “I heard there’s a meeting today?”

”Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “It’s about to start in thirty minutes, actually. Are you planning to join?”

”Yes,” you told her. “I hope they won’t mind,”

You were sitting on the chair in the meeting room when the door opened. Your heart drops for some reason. Your palms sweat and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. You stood up, looked towards the opened door and saw him. Carmy. Carmy was here. He stops his movement—even his breathing and lets go of the door knob. He clutches the folder in his hands and looks at you with wide eyes.

He’s aged. He looked tired and his face matured but his eyes were still as blue as ever, demanding you to open up to him.

You looked older but you looked content. The fine lines that he’s never seen on you before makes you look more beautiful than you’ve ever been.

He opens his mouth first but no words come out. You tried to do the same but you suddenly forgot all of the words that you could say. The pain in your lungs and the quiver in your voice manages to croak out something that snaps him out of his shock.

“Hey,” a wobbly smile graces your features and he steps forward. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back but you didn’t.

He watches your hand tremble and he wonders if he could still hold them like he used to.

You watch him take shaky breaths and remember how you used to soothe his back to stop him.

“I can leave,” you said, looking down. He frowns and licks his lips.

”You don’t have to,”

”No, I’ll—“

”You don’t have to run away,”

”You ran away from me all those years ago,”

Snap. If you could break his bones with your words, you already would have.

”But…” you swallowed thickly. “but it doesn’t matter anymore,” you whispered. You resented yourself for bringing that up. You should be happy that he’s doing fine, right?

“Y/N—“

”Let it go,”

”Please,”

”Carmy,” you finally look at him. You still called him Carmy.

“I have to talk to you,”

”I understand, alright?” you grit. “I—I—“ you breathed in. “I can’t be here,”

”Y/N, please,” you hear him plead. His voice breaks and you do too. Maybe because you always had a soft spot for him. Maybe it was because you realized that you loved him. Maybe it was because you pitied him…either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying what you said next.

“The Peninsula,” you told him. “Under my last name. Tomorrow,”

It was all you said to him before you left him in the meeting room. A few minutes later, Mr. Lee greets him and they close the deal.

Today was Monday, which meant that Carmy had either the morning or after the restaurant closes to come to you. If he comes to The Peninsula after, you might leave thinking that he never cared. If he comes tomorrow, he might not be able to prepare. He thinks that he’s at his best and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to focus if he didn’t go to you. He’ll just fuck things up in the kitchen if he doesn’t go to you. So, at 5:30 a.m., he goes to your hotel and asks for your room number. It seemed like you’ve already informed the receptionist of your arrival and they let him come up.

He knocks the door erratically. You rouse from the bed, alarmed because who would knock at 5:30 a.m.? You couldn’t sleep no matter what you did. With a grip on the remote control of the TV, you peeped into the hole to find Carmy.

“Y/N?” he calls from the outside. You tossed the remote control away and opened the door.

“It’s not even six yet,” were the words you told him as he sees you in the robe. “Carmy?”

“Sorry but—but I,” he draws in a breath. “Sorry I just, I wanted to go here before anything else because…because I know that if I don’t, I’ll be thinking about it and I won’t be able to focus,”

“Come in,”

Carmy steps inside your hotel room and looks around. Fancy. You used to dream about going to a place like this when you were younger. He stands there awkwardly by the foyer and you motion for him to sit down on the couch. He does so and watches you lean on the wall, as far away from him as possible without it being really obvious but it was.

A beat passes with Carmy’s eyes trained on you. You’ve never felt out of touch in his life than now. He watches you with wide eyes while you look everywhere but his face. There were no stains in his shirt and his curls were messier than you remember. You purse your lips and Carmy sighs. Really, Chicago felt so suffocating for the both of you. Being trapped in the small hotel room made it harder to breathe. What could you say? What could he say? The last time you saw each other, you pushed him away. What if you do it again?

“I’m sorry,”

Your head snaps up to look at his face. You frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers, feeling ashamed of everything. Now that you’ve looked at him, he feels like he was under a microscope and he grew to hate the feeling of being studied like that. “I’m so, so, so, fucking sorry,”

He bows his head in shame just as you look away, to the window so he wouldn’t see you wiping your tears. The sun was about to rise and it pains you because you realized that you loved him more when you spent that sunset in the library.

“Why did—“ you stop yourself. “Why did you leave me, Carmy?”

His heart beats fast, his fists clenching on his lap. Why?

”I didn’t deserve that,” you told him. “I didn’t deserve that and you—you just pushed me away. You could’ve at least said goodbye before—before you left the country. Fuck. I spent the past years wondering what I did wrong, Carmy. Do you know how that feels? I followed you like a lost puppy every fucking day and you suddenly decided that you were done with-with-with me. With us,”

He frowns, he doesn’t remember your childhood like that. For him, he was always in the sideways. He was the one who always had to follow you.

“My mom thought that making you lunch was the only way for you to s-stay,” he tells you, looking down. He studies the cuts he earned in the kitchen. “I felt—I felt like that too, you know? Everybody liked you wherever you went and I only…I only had to catch up after you,”

”Carm, you don’t even like people,”

That stings him for some reason and he frowns deeper. He bites his lip and shakes his head. How would you understand? Everybody loved you and he was so hard to love that his brother decided that he was done with him.

“Why did you push me away? Why—“ you choke back a sob. “Why did you leave me?”

The string that you tied around his heart grips it tighter. Memories of you, him, Mikey, that Christmas with his mom, the first time he smoked a cigarette, and the last time he looked at your house comes rushing back to him.

“You know, I started—started smoking when I left,” he chuckled. “It made sense…once I arrived in Copenhagen, the next logical thing was to, uh, buy a pack of cigarettes,” He hopes you understood what he tried to say.

”I’m not your babysitter,”

”I know,” he says. He thinks and you do too. You realized that too much resentment and emotions will get you nowhere.

”Carmy, I know you’re sorry but…but for tonight, can-can we just pretend like you never left?” you asked. He looks at you now, the sunrise illuminating your face differently from that sunset you shared. “Can we..can we pretend like we just lost touch and-and that we’re catching up?”

You look at him sadly, with your mouth downturned slightly. There were so many things to say and emotions to be felt. You couldn’t afford to unpack everything in a day and you were unsure if you wanted him back in your life just yet. You missed him but you didn’t know if you could handle another person leaving you. You’ve had enough people leaving you in this lifetime. Maybe that’s why you were so lonely. Maybe that’s why you don’t have friends and maybe that’s why everyone else seemed to have had enough of you never letting them in. What was the point anyway? Everything’s going to end and love doesn’t last forever. Who would have thought that the two people you loved most can teach you such a harrowing lesson?

Besides, you were unsure if you were ready to let all the love you’ve had for Carmy come to the surface and overflow again. The last time he left, would be the last time he leaves.

“Y/N?” he calls, standing up from the couch to walk towards you. Maybe just for now, this is enough. You smile at him, just like you did when you were younger. Like everything was alright.

“Carmy,” you smile as you let his calloused hands wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry for crying,”

”I’m sorry for making you cry,” he tries to say but his stutter breaks out and he looks down in shame. You reach out to him, your hands clutching the sides of his white shirt. He tries again, this time his voice was much clearer. His head seemed to put everything in his backburner. He has to savor this moment because who knows what will happen? He decided that the last time he left would be the last time he leaves you. A sob threatens to rip his chest but he swallows it down. “How have you been?”

Your arms snake around his waist and you lay your head on his chest. You can hear his heart beating so fast. Does he hear yours too? He takes in your scent. You smell different now.

He caresses the back of your head and kisses it. You take in a sharp breath. He’s never done that before. He tightens his grip around you, afraid to let go.

“Did you achieve your dream?”

You’re both laying down on the bed. The tender moment you shared was interrupted by your alarm. You watch each other now, wondering who breaks the ice first. Carmy’s arms wrap around you while you snuggle closer in his chest, clinging onto every piece of hope left. Your forehead is tucked under his chin and you breathed.

“I became an actress for a while,” you started. The air feels heavy but you decided to push it aside. “but I decided not to continue.”

“Why?”

“I went to college after you—after high school. I stayed there for a semester before…before I dropped out,” you said. “Carmy, they were so much better than me—“

“That’s not true,”

“But it is,” you chuckled sadly. “That wasn’t even the main reason but…but remember mom was sick?” He nods. “Well, she got…she—she got sicker and we had to use the college fund for her treatment,” you said. You don’t try to hide the sniffles. “In the end…in the end, I never went back to college and she didn’t…she didn’t make it,” your voice broke. The images of your mom in her casket never seemed to leave your mind. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “My mom and I—“ You shuddered, remembering the time when your mother had to personally refuse any more care. You knew that she didn’t want you to be in debt. It was hard to spend your college fund but she couldn’t leave you with debt that you’ll pay forever.

”I know,” he says. He couldn’t bear hearing your voice break again. His eyes were red and tears threatened to spill. Fuck. He wasn’t there when you needed him. He knew how close you and your mom were. He couldn’t even say sorry because you both didn’t want to and didn’t know how to address the elephant in the hotel room.

“But then…then, I tried to act,” you chuckled, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of the white robe. Carmy hears the tiredness in your voice but doesn’t mention it. “I had an audition and I got lucky. I got a recurring role in a hit TV series. I thought I was happy. I thought—I thought that I finally got what I wanted but I felt so alone, Carm. I didn’t have my mom with me…she will never—she will never watch anything that I’ll do but I persisted,” the small circles he drew on your back soothed you. “But then…the producer wanted to meet with me and I—he said that if I removed my clothes, he’ll make me a star,” his grip tightened. ”I removed my shirt and sat in his office half naked. It didn’t bother me. I knew…I knew what I was getting into but he-he wanted more and I had to leave,”

Carmy lets go of the breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“I was fine with sitting there…like…like I was some fucking object. He could look all he wanted and I didn’t fucking care but he tried—he tried to touch me and I pushed him away,” you cried. He was around your age and was already successful when you came to the picture. He made you trust him. “He had my name blacklisted. I could never…I couldn’t do shit about it. I couldn’t land a job before I realized that maybe…maybe acting wasn’t for me,” you whispered. “I was only there because…he wanted someone to take advantage of,”

You cry in his arms as you share your burden with him. You had nobody to talk to when it happened. You were alone. You were so, so, so alone.

”I opened The Alchemy with the money that I have left and my business grew from there,” you said after calming yourself down. “I have the money but…but I feel so, so, so alone,”

He cooes and you bury yourself deeper in his arms. He mutters things you couldn’t understand. Carmy lets his tears flow as you calm yourself down. How can he tell you all about him if you’re so frail? He didn’t want to burden you any longer.

He doesn’t know how many minutes passed before he heard your breath even itself out. He unwraps his arms around you as carefully as he could. You were fast asleep and didn’t want to wake you. It takes a lot for him to remove himself from the bed that you shared for a few hours but soon, he finds himself wearing his jacket, walking away from the Peninsula. He forgot to count the number of cigarettes he smoked ever since he stepped his foot outside. He forgot to take his heart with him when he left it with you.

He runs a hand through his hair and arrives at the kitchen with profound sadness that his staff has never seen him carry. He locks himself in the office and takes out the notebook he managed to find in his apartment the night before. The email address and the password that he tried so hard to remember glares at him before clicking on ‘Next’. Emails from his childhood pop up but one stands out. Who would have thought that his email address was as easy to remember as combining your names together?

He shakily clicks on your old email address and takes a sharp breath as he reads the last thing you’ve sent him.

Carmy,

I heard from Donna that you’re in Copenhagen now. I hope everything’s fine between us because the last time I tried, you refused to speak to me. I don’t mind. I hope we talk again someday because you’re the only person in the world who I can talk to without hiding anything. I hope you gave me the chance to say this. I was planning on telling you anyway before we enter college. I don’t know why I’m saying this now. Maybe I’m doing this because I’m selfish. I’m hoping that you’d come back or maybe talk to me again if I do. If you don’t reply, I’ll take it as a rejection and try to move on with my life. I’ll be happy for you either way.

I love you, Carmy. I love you so much and I hope that you’re out there, pursuing your dreams. I will always be rooting for you.

I love you.

He throws his phone on the floor. He’s positive that there’s another crack on the screen now. He screams profanities and ignores the urgent knocks that Sugar was making outside his door. His head falls in his hands and he sobs. You were right. If he read the message, he’d book the next flight home.

He only dreams to be loved and to love without anything holding him back but dreams have a way of appearing brighter when you’re younger.

END. A/N: Thank you so much for reading and for waiting for me! I hope this was worth it. I’m really proud of this and as always, don’t forget to reblog / comment / tell me what you think! Love you.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt@morgthemagpie@hal3ynicol3@1800-queen-trash @ummvengers @thottywizard

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #angst #fluff #the bear #the bear fx #the bear s3

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misserabella · 2 years ago

Note

Could you do a Joel smut with lots of dirty talk and praise 🥹

a/n; ofc <3

cw; plot with basically no smut, making out, teasing, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv sex (guys wrap the dong up), breeding kink, praising, dirty talking, hard sex, dom! joel sub! reader, cream pie, hickeys, cum play… 18+ content! minors dni!

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

you knew this was bad. that you shouldn’t be feeling this way about a man such as joel miller, who had killed hundreds with just his bare hands and who was about 20 years older than you. but you couldn’t help it. couldn’t help the way your thighs would press against each other every time he would look at you, smile at you, even touching you made your pussy throb and your cotton panties get completely soaked.

his voice was your favorite song. you couldn’t stop daydreaming about how it would sound first thing in the morning, on how praises would fall out of his lips as he fucked into you. of course, this only had happened on your mind, late at night, when you were feeling so needy your fingers were curling inside your tight and warm cunt.

his jaw, his nose, his cheekbones, his frown, his hands… they were all rough around the edges, his beard and mustache prickly underneath your touch. completely opposite of you. whose skin couldn’t be any softer, hair couldn’t be any smoother and smile any brighter.

he felt bad. really bad. going after someone this pure, this perfect and angelic. but he couldn’t help it. not when you’d smile like that at him, how he had noticed you’d stare when he would look away or was focused on some work, how you’d shake when his hands softly touched you…

maybe that’s why he was doing all of this. maybe that’s why he couldn’t control himself anymore.

it was late at night and you were reading on your sofa, hair perfectly brushed and soft silk pijamas decorating your body. you had just taken a shower, smelling like strawberries and pure sugar. he loved it. every time you’d come near his jaw tightening as he tried his best to not kiss your neck to prove that you’d be as sweet if he only could get a taste. his jeans would tighten at the thought of how you’d taste in between your thighs, how you’d sound for him as he ate you out, fucked the sense out of you…

you jumped on the sofa when you heard banging coming from your door, leaving your book aside to go and open up even if the clock was ticking two am. your eyes shot open when your eyes caught those brown ones that had been going around your head for the last few months.

“joel? what are you doing here?” you inquired him as you let him space to come in. he looked exhausted, exasperated, upset…

“i- shit, i’m sorry, it’s really late, isn’t it? fuck. did i wake you up?” he inquired when he took in your attire. you quickly shook your head with a smile.

“oh no! you didn’t. i was just reading for a little bit.” you dismissed his worry by taking a sit on the sofa and putting aside your book. you didn’t catch how your short pants rolled up your plushy tights, neither the way his fists clenched. “what’s wrong? you seem as if tommy had just spilled a beer on you. is everything alright?” you tried and joke, though you were concerned about his demeanor as well. he looked tense. so tense you could almost hear his muscles working to seat him down on the sofa right next to you.

“i don’t think you’d like to know.” he muttered, his breath heavy and barely hitching when you sat closer and one of your soft hands warmed up his shoulder.

“and why is that?”

“it’s bad. really bad.” he muttered, and for a moment his eyes paused on your puffy and rosy lips. god, what he’d do to have just a simple taste…

he was definitely going to hell. but you were too. so it didn’t really matter, did it?

“i can handle bad.” you promised, and your thighs shook and pressed against the other when one of his hands landed on your lap, his warm and rough fingertips grazing the naked skin of your thighs. you shuddered and he smiled.

“can you now, sweetheart?” he whispered, and your eyes landed on his mouth, on his tongue dampening his lips. you simply nodded and he chuckled. “my eyes are up here, baby.” he smirked as his thumb and index took your chin to bring your eyes back to his. “do you really wanna know baby?” you nodded again, though you gasped when he suddenly leaned in. “really wanna know how bad i need you? how much i want to touch you? fuck you? how much i’ve been thinking about this pretty lips of yours around my cock? about your pretty pussy jumping on it?” you couldn’t help but whimper, his hand grasping at your thigh tighter. “fuck. you can’t do that, honey. you can’t be sounding so pretty for me. you should be pushing me away, telling me you don’t want this.”

“but what if i do want it, joel? what if i’ve been thinking the same about you?” you muttered in return, and he groaned, making you throb. “i want you. want you to touch me.” you pleaded, taking the hand on your lap and parting your legs so you could lead it upwards and against your core, where he could feel just how needy you were for him.

“yeah, baby? you want me to touch you? touch this pretty pussy of yours and make it drool all over my fingers?” he whispered as his lips latched to your neck, leaving soft but deep kisses that made you squirm as you nodded, begging for it under your breath. “fuck baby, you’re so wet. is this all for me?” he muttered when one of his hands pressed inside your panties and shorts, fingertips getting coated on your slick as he touched your throbbing pussy.

you moaned at his touch, electricity buzzing through your veins. “yes, joel, all for you, fuck…” you cried out, your back arching when his fingers found your puffy clit.

you couldn’t believe this was happening. was this all just another dream? another fantasy your brain has made up on your sleep?

he hummed. “atta girl, open your legs up for me baby, so pretty…” you were moaning and whimpering by the time one of his fingers thrusted into you, slowly, slick wet sounds coming from your cunt filling the room and making your cheeks burn. “fuck, look at that. so ready for my fingers…” he groaned when one of your hands grabbed at his arm, nails digging on his skin as you moaned.

“joel…” you moaned, eyes trickling with tears of pleasure, hips thrusting against his now two fingers, which curled against your g-spot. his lips where soft on your neck, but the way he was sucking on your skin wasn’t. he was marking you, branding his touch on your skin, making it impossible for anybody else to fill your mind… he was making you his, only and eternally his. and you would like it any other way. “more…” you begged, and he grunted, adding a third finger. your arousal was pooling on his fingers, and he would do anything to taste you, to have you falling apart under his tongue. “please… need you…” you whined, pulling on his hair, making him grunt against the skin of your neck.

“so tight… i don’t think you’ll be able to take me honey. gotta stretch your little pussy out first.” you were sobbing, shivering and rising your hips for him.

“i can do it… please…”

“so needy. what a good girl using her words, aren’t you?” he hummed. “want my cock baby? want me to fill you all up and pretty?”

you moaned, nodding, muttering a please under your breath and later on moaning as soon as he had you pinned against the sofa, his hands quick to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans and underwear. your whine due to the absence of his fingers inside of you became a moan full of need when you took a glance at his throbbing and leaking dick, rock hard against his happy trail and with its head red and beaded in pre cum that you wanted to lick clean with your mouth. god what you’d do do be a good girl for him and get on your knees…

maybe that’s why you asked. maybe that’s why you begged for it.

joel moaned when your hand softly took him in your palm, slowly stroking him. he was soft, and warm, and you knew he would taste so good…

“joel…, wanna taste you.” you said, and he groaned.

“fuck.” he muttered, his eyes fluttering as you started to pump his dick, slowly, teasingly. “you want me to fuck your throat, sweetheart? is that it?” you hummed, getting on your fours, tongue dampening your lips. “what a good girl… so eager to make me feel good… go ahead baby, open up for me.” his hand surrounded yours to guide the tip of his sick to your lips, and he grunted when you followed his orders, lips parting to let him in. “atta girl…” you moaned, at his praise and the taste of the cum dribbling out of his rosy head. “fuck baby…” he moaned when you popped it inside your mouth, suckling on it, opening wider for him. you couldn’t help it, not when he tasted this good, felt this good in your mouth. you had been dreaming about this since the first time you had seen him. “such a sweet mouth…” you moaned, taking him further, pussy impossibly wet due to his words. one of his hands came down to grip your hair, slowly thrusting in and making you slightly choke and him moan at the feeling. “that’s it, such a good girl letting me fuck her throat… can’t wait to fuck your pushy baby, gonna fill you up so good…” he said, and you moaned, deep throating him, one of your hands playing with your clit. “poor thing, so wet and needy she can’t help but touch herself while taking a dick down her throat, aren’t you baby?” you whimpered, and let his cock go with a pop when he tugged from your hair. he smirked when you tried and suck him off once again, but he stopped you with a chuckle. “that’s enough darling, you lubed it all up for me, hm?” you were on your back against the bed, legs spread for him to see your glistening cunt, hole fluttering with need to be filled and stretched out. “gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” the oxygen was punched out of your lungs when he pressed the tip against your folds, sliding it slowly to tease you over your clit and hole. “gonna shape you to my cock, baby, gonna make it impossible for you to cum without my cock.” you moaned.

“joel!” you screamed, your nails digging on his shoulders as he pushed in, his lips on your breasts, tongue sliding over your nipples and making you shiver.

“shh, atta girl, taking me so good…so fucking tight…” he grunted, slowly thrusting himself inside your cunt inch by inch. you were crying in bliss, his dick reaching deeper no one else has ever before. he chuckled darkly when you loudly moaned as he suddenly pushed the rest in, hitting your g spot and making sparks decorate your vision. “that good, huh?” he teased you, doing it again, and again, until you were nothing but a babbling mess. “that’s it… good girl. listen to her, she’s speaking to me, baby.” he smirked, listening to the wet and slick sounds your cunt made with every new harsh thrust.

“fuck, joel, don’t stop, please, feels so good…” you whimpered, begged, fucking yourself on his cock, rocking your hips against his movements…

he groaned. “feels good, baby?” you nodded, whining, and he only sped up, making your back arched and a long draggy moan leave your lips. he moaned. you looked so fucking hot.

“shit, harder, please…” he groaned, his fingertips harshly digging on your hips and probably leaving bruises as he pulled you down on his cock, hitting your cervix and making you cry out. “so full… feel you so deep…” you babbled out, and he groaned.

“fuuuck… you can’t say that baby, gonna make me fill you up too soon…” you moaned at the idea, the thought of having his cum dribbling out of your cunt, for him to have you dripping for hours making the knot that was forming on your stomach grow. “yeah? you like that? of course you do… you want me to fill your pretty little count, don’t you?” you nodded.

“yes, joel, please, shit, need it, need your cum inside.” he grunted, his hips snapping harshly against yours in an animalistic pace. she was fucking you stupid, leaving you whimpering and moaning under him, pinning you against the bed to fuck you deeper with his hand on your neck.

“yeah? then take it baby. take my cum.”

you were coming when the first spurt of his cum was filling your cunt, clit being stimulated by his fingers to make you scream and soak his cock. you were gushing around him as he pumped you full, fucking you through it as he emptied himself inside you as he let out a bunch of ‘good girl’s and ‘look at that, creaming all over my cock…’ and you two were panting by the time your orgasms had washed over, completely spent. you whined when he pulled out, letting out a sensitive moan when you felt his cum dribbling out your pussy and onto the bedsheets.

“shh, it’s okay baby.” you hummed in pleasure when he pumped two of his fingers back into your cunt. “i’ll keep it all nice and inside for you.” he muttered, sucking bruises on your neck that made you hiss. “gonna keep my girl happy and full, don’t i?” you let out a lazy sleepy smile at his words, and opened your mouth for his tongue when he kissed you sloppy and wet.

his girl.

you could get used to that.

a/n; hope you liked it, sorry for taking such a long time! <3

pedro pascal masterlist! <3

xxx

#dan! writes ♱#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fluff #joel tlou #tlou imagine #tlou smut #tlou #tlou x reader

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leonsthunderthighs · 2 years ago

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Simple Sketches

I drew a picture of him and bro is GORGEOUS (probably taking too much pride in it but no matter-)

☆RE4R Leon era <3

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"Alright perfect, stay just like that" You giggled through your words. Your eyes quickly focusing on Leon's smiling expression and back to the off-white sketchbook paper.

"Gotcha" He focused on keeping one expression and kept his eyes on you. A smile pursed your lips as you slowly admired his features and dragged the pencil imitating what you see.

Leon loved the concentration you had trying to perfectly capture his handsome portrait. The smile slowly fading while your brows furrowed, craning your neck closer and closer to the paper. His eyes wandered down curiously watching your process.

You glance back up seeing your boyfriend leaning from his position, "Leon quit being nosey, we just started." You bantered pushing back his face with your pencil against his forehead.

"Fine fine, as you wish." He said while slightly laughing and leaning back to his position. Before going back to drawing you fix his head position by gently tilting his chin, "There."

You quickly went back to drawing, the pencil scratching the paper letting you capture his features. His parted blonde hair that sat perfectly around his jawline and high cheekbones. The beauty marks that freckled his cheeks down to his neck and Adam's apple. The warm sunlight accentuated parts of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and his pretty lips that always has something smart to say. His dark circles that formed over the course of years made his pearly blues brighter, eyes being windows to the soul is a phrase that's almost been overused but you couldn't help but think it was true for Leon. His eyes matched the fighting spirit he has, you looked up to and admired his strength, whether it be physical nor mentally. Just the utter thought of having to do the grimey work he's forced to put through leaves a sour taste on your tongue and a heavy sense of dread weigh in your stomach.

Your focus was broken as you stared back at his lips trying to capture the soft shading. They were such a deep peachy color and the warm light only added to the sight, your eyes didn't come back down to the paper to imitate what you see so you stared at the curling smile forming on his lips. "It's rude to stare you know", his words came out smoothly in a quiet breath.

"You really make it hard not to Leon." You continued to just lovingly memorize portrait. A quiet chuckle came from the back of his throat as he left a gentle kiss upon your lips. You hummed gratified by the feeling of him pressing his lips against yours, the pads of his fingers rubbed circles against your skin.

Comfortable silence fell within the house as Leon pulled his head back to rest his forehead against yours, basking in your presence and wishing he could stay like this with you.

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Sorry I disappeared on you guys 😭 I have a lot of drafts but none of them end up getting finished and they just collect dust BUT I GOT THIS ONE DONE tho its a little short but still its so soft to me </3

Also if you see any spelling/grammar errors just pretend you didn't see that

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #sorry i disappeared lol

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i-heart-emos · 10 months ago

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Life’s brighter with you around/luke castellan

authors note: In honor of my 1 year anniversary of being on tumblr yay so I thought what better than write a Luke oneshot. And also the reader is the daughter of selene the goddes of the moon cause I haven’t seen a kid of them yet on tumble

Summary:Luke’s always had nightmares ever since he can remember but that all changed when he met you

Pairing: luke castellan x Selene daughter!reader

Warning: slight angst, mentions of death, and torturing

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Ever since Luke can remember he always had terrible nightmares. Either about his mothers death,his father leaving, Thalia being tortured. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat tears running down his face looking around rapidly. It was absolutely horrible like being trapped in an old disgusting memory but he just had to watch it happen again. No moving no screaming just watching. He made a swear to himself that if anyone he loved where to get hurt he’d sacrifice himself.

Especially when he met you. You arrived at camp when you where where 13 he had barely been there a few months when he met you. You walked threw the gates looking the best way Luke can describe like you’d been hit by a bus. A bruised eye cut lip and large cut on your side bleeding threw your shirt looking like yo I where gonna pass out. It made Luke remember everything he has to go threw to get to camp.

He remembers you coming in and almost falling from the blood loss. He immediately runs up to you getting you by the shoulders. “Hey are you ok”he asked “um not really kinda bleeding out just a little bit” oh here let me get you to the infirmary” he walked you to the infirmary in the middle of camp finally settling you down in a bed. “Chiron Chiron can somebody tell Chiron we have a new camper who needs immediate medical attention” that’s all you nheard till it faded to black. But you where patched up and woke up. Looking around frantically you spotted Luke “you your the guys who helped me” he chuckles “ yea no problem you can call me Luke castellan” he states holding out his hand “ well castellan you can call me y/n l/n” after that you and Luke had become inseparable.

Luke had spent all day trying to find your godly parent and there was no luck. Till that night you where talking to Luke about how you’ve always felt some strange connection to the moon and it’s beauty. All of a sudden a crescent moon appeared above you. He looked up shocked “you your the child of Selene the moon goddess”. You laughed “guess that explains my weird moon obsession. You where the only child at camp daughter of the moon goddess there was obviously no cabin for you. Which meant your home would be in the Hermes cabin. But that was a plus meant you could be closer to Luke.One night you where trying to sleep when you where woken up to heavy breathing.

You looked around till you pinpointed the sound. Luke’s bunk You thought. You quickly make your wait over there. He sees you and calms his breathing a bit. “Oh I’m sorry did I wake you”. “No no don’t worry are you ok bad dream”. “Oh um yea” “want me to maybe stay with you I don’t have to but if it’ll make you feel better”. “That would actually make me feel a lot better” you smile and slowly crawl into bed with him. You wake up to one of Lukes half siblings Hannah looking over you too smirking. “Hey you can’t tell anyone Hannah please” you pleaded. “Fine I’ll keep your little secret” she says she walking away. After that it became a usual thing he’d get nightmares come to your bed you’d crawl into his. And Hannah would wake you before everyone else woke. But eventually Luke got tired of hiding this.

you where so devoted to helping him he felt himself truly slipping into you more and more every day. It’s like he didn’t know what to do. “Chris it’s driving me mad I just love her so much” Chris rolls his eyes sick of hearing this every day. “ then why don’t you ask her out already she clearly likes you”. “You think she really does” he says hopeful look on his face” “man look she wakes up whenever you want doesn’t get mad you interrupt her sleep gets into literal bed with you just to make you feel better after your bad dreams I don’t know but that sounds like love to me”

“oh my Gods Chris thank you for opening my eyes I gotta” he says running away. “Hah and now I’m getting some money” Chris exclaims remembering his bet with Clarissa over who would convince the other to date each-other first.

When Luke finally finds you he’s breathing heavily. “Are you ok” “ yes Amazing actually ok here goes nothing y/n l/n I love you with all my heart I love how caring you are and how you never hesitate to help out anyone” I love hearing you talk about things you love like the stars and the moon and hearing the stories while you point at constellations”. “You’ve made my life amazing and saved me will you be my girlfriend” “oh my goodness you finally ask of course I’ll be your girlfriend idiot” you exclaim grabbing his face and kissing him”. Then you here a angry

groan in the back you both look to see clarisse stomping her feet like a child. “what clarisse sad I got her first” Luke says. “No castellan Im angry I lost my bet with Chris” she says storming off. You look at Luke and say “ten bucks there gonna date next” “ten bucks I’ll get Chris to date her next”. “ oh your so on pretty boy you say”. And then started the ongoing bets at camp half-blood. Watching the sky that night with Luke you could have sworn the moon shined just a little brighter with him around

author note: this kinda went off the rails but it’s was so fun to make and now I write for clarisse cause I found my love for her also sorry the text style changed halfway threw I switched devices

#luke castellan #fanfic #fluff #cute #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson

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shinjisdone · 1 year ago

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Heyya, I saw how you wrote last time about Silver and Sebek. I love it, it's cute. I hope you don't mind me request.

The type of request is the scenario and the reader is Gender neutral, the prompt: "[LIFT] - sender lifts receiver off the ground (or attempts to)." From fluff.

Probably where MC/reader tries to lift Silver up while a sleep. I'm sure all that movement won't even successfully wake Silver up. Tho I would like to see where they successfully lift Silver.

Hope this is okay !

A very cute idea and I'd like to try out a prompt that is more active :) Unfortunately, I've grown tired and impatient so this will be written in bullet points, hope that's okay.

Fluff prompt: [LIFT] - sender lifts receiver off the ground (or attempts to)

With Trying to Lift Up A Sleeping Silver

Silver was one of the nicest student's you've known.

For a second-year he soaked up a lot of knowlegdge like a sponge and is kind enough to help you out in all kinds of lessons. The only thing he asked in return is to study outside, since he can better focus in a brighter place with fresher air.

Taking the chance to finally get that one topic with one of the nicest guy's you know, you accepted without hesitation, thinking he requested this to keep himself better awake.

It went well. Silver was calm and patient as he explained various topics, no matter if you soaked them up quickly as he did or not. It's relaxing to listen to him speak and actually get what he is talking about. Compared to other second-years (Riddle, Azul, Leona,etc.) this outdoor study lesson is comforting.

Comforting enough to fall asleep it seems...you only turned your back for a second to review your notes and already do you feel a weight leaning against your back. Turning your head, you heard Silver's soft snores this close to your ear and his locks tickling your nose as his body gave in and leaned further and further and further...

Panicking, you froze as still as a statue. You called out his name softly in a whisper - since he was already so close to you, you feared that even a normal volume would scare him out of dreamland.

Yet, to no avail. Calling and nudging him seemed pointless for he just...cuddled closer to you. Often he'd murmur something but it was too unintelligible to understand.

Oh, dear...you don't have all day! And neither does he! The next lessons are going to start sometime, soon even perhaps and you cannot afford to lose your head being tardy at Trein's classes! Besides, you cannot let that happen to Silver after he was so kind enough to help you out!

Packing your belongings aside and taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to at least stand up. Slowly moving forward, so did Silver but you soon found out that he was surely but slowly sliding off your back and right to the meadow below.

Gotcha! Caught his head just in the right moment! As much as you'd like to celebrate your victory on getting on your feet, your dear peer was still asleep.

"Silver-senpai..." You called out louder, tapped his shoulder, pinched his nose! Yet still, all he'd do is scrunch it up.

It seemed like you needed to carry him - or at least, lift him up first.

Snaking your arms around his torso and resting his head on your shoulder, you once again attempted to get up. Though asleep, Silver's body was heavy and lax - but at least you managed to have him sit up so far.

In response, he only snored.

"Sword-sparring is...soon..."

Oh, really? Grrreat.

Once again you try to get up - again and again and again, only to slip on the grass and fall back to your knees. Silver only snores louder.

Well, at least he can't hear you curse profanities.

With a quick hitch, you could finally get one foot on the ground and Silver was hoisted up higher. Inahling sharply, you made sure to continue up with a composure that could rival your upper classmate.

"Silver-senpai...c'mon, wake up. You're heavy..."

Though you only meant to motivate yourself, it seemed like the young knight was listening in his sleep.

"...I'll help you out...gladly..."

Shucks, now you feel awful.

Nevertheless, you won't be deterred! One last yank and you both were lifted up to your feet!

Yet so much so that you loosened your footing again, slipped on the grass and lost balance right then and there-!

If it weren't for the hand reaching for yours and pulling you briskly into a sturdy chest. Silver was quick to wrap his arms around you.

"Prefect...be careful. This meadow can be quite slippy."

...Whua???

Now he's awake...? What, through some kind of instinct or...???

"Our classes will begin soon, too. Is there anything else you wanted to know? Any questions?"

"Uh, no. I don't believe so."

Gently he pulled away and dusted you off. "Then let's head inside. Better not be tardy or we'll get an earful. Are you okay?"

You could only respond with a half-hearted nod and quietly followed him, still all at sea. You let him hold your hand as he guided you back to the pathway.

You believe it's best not to let him know for now.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst silver #twst silver x reader #request #fluff prompt

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osamucide · 1 year ago

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drunk drivers/killer whales

but if we learn how to live like this maybe we can learn how to start again like a child who's never done wrong

wc: 1.9k

cw: gn!reader, post-dark era, pre-entrance exam, port mafia!reader, alcohol, guns, canon-typical violence, language, angst with happy(ish?) ending, implied relationships/previous relationships, implied depression, dazai-typical suicide mentions

reid: i love him and i love car seat headrest. can be read as a stand alone or part 1 to this. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

The Port Mafia’s favoritism of big corporations over mom-and-pop businesses might’ve been one of the reasons you cited for staying at one point. Extorting a logo was one thing – holding a gun to the face of an old man running a humble, family-owned and operated enterprise was another.

You’d watched enough people cut off their own pinkies and present the severed protuberance to your boss to know when you were in a place you shouldn’t be, doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Maybe, at another point, you would’ve cited quite liking having all your fingers as a reason for staying.

You weren’t usually in Numazu on business. Actually, you weren’t usually in Numazu ever, but the train headed back up to Yokohama from Shizuoka had been halted for nearly four hours now due to an outage, and you were faced with nothing better to do than open your wallet while you waited. You weren’t worried about money – no, never worried about money – so who could it hurt to barhop a bit, you figured. Whiskey always brought you back a few years, and the world had been looking as bleak as it ever did. The main difference between now and when you first started drinking whiskey was the people you were with. The person, more specifically. Osamu Dazai, to be perfectly exact.

It was a bitch navigating the unfamiliar area under the influence. Bars like beacons of light beckoned you into their warm embrace on your aimless trails around the ward, so you went to them. The only other place you’d really rather have been was asleep in your bed.

You figured you were somewhat of a synesthesiac. A nice buzz always made the lights a little brighter, a little more saturated, and despite the properties of the alcohol, you were sure in your drunkenness that you wouldn’t remember this place so vividly later on if you weren’t swaying with the faint street music. It was instrumental – soft, with a flute in there, but also some electronic noises. It made you feel like you were on a side quest in a video game. Perhaps one that seemed insignificant now, but would be crucial to the conclusion of your plot.

The colors were never quite as bright after he left.

Being drunk with him was a deep, royal blue. Sometimes a bit of red. The overhead lights outside the particular establishment where you stood were sizzling piss-yellow. Same heavy feeling in your stomach, same vague burning in your chest and throat, but the colors looked different.

You stepped in on a stale atmosphere, fuzzy but lively in its own way. High and low tables alike hosted smatterings of bar-goers. All their conversations mumbled into one under the drone of the speakers – now a psychedelic pop tune was your backing track, a grumbling bartender hassling the sole patron on the row of stools the only significant cut-through. No dialogue box for your intoxicated convenience (not that your whirling vision would've served as much of a lens), so you ignored it as you took up a stool of your own, far enough from the one-sided quarrel to remain uninvolved but close enough to draw service.

You ordered your fifth – no, sixth whiskey sour of the night. The analog clock on the wall read 22:23. Still plenty of time to get obliterated, pass out somewhere, wake up to a running train, and get back with a brief report without raising too much suspicion.

You sat pensively. The bartender was back to pestering the guy at the end of the bar. Something about too long of a tab, he was going to call the cops, or something or other. Guy was unresponsive. Head down. Unconscious, maybe. You turned your head. How far had the poor motherfucker run up his tab? Could you cover it? You were a mafioso (one whose rank had been greatly discounted since the disappearance of that particular someone) but you weren’t heartless, nor were you above helping some poor shmuck out of the gutter at maybe one of the only places that brought him any solace. Hell, you’d been there.

He held a landline, and his face was a blustering red. I know you’re awake, kid, or something like that, and a tap bordering on violent to his head finally prompted some acknowledgment. As he lifted his head, you swore the exposure of the largely-brown room was tilted up a few ticks.

You couldn’t tell if you made a face or not. Dazai waved a hand, insisting the bartender piss off.

After a pause either no more than half a second or at least ten seconds, the bartender’s thick fingers flew to the receiver to dial, and you nearly spilled the rest of your drink as you moved, seating choice in vain.

“No, I got it. Tell me how much it is. I’ll pay it for him.”

“I don’t want your money,” the bartender spat, his attention splitting toward you. “Besides, someone like you shouldn’t waste money on a jackass like him. I want his money.”

Someone like you, in your well-pressed suit jacket. Someone surely no worse than Dazai himself. You wanted to laugh.

“Let me pay it. No need to get the authorities involved.”

“I’ll do-“

You reached inside your jacket, producing both your wallet and gun that had rested heavily against your side all evening. Cooly, you kept your eyes on his as you firmly set both of them on the glossy wood, threat and promise alike looming securely from under your grasp.

The rest of his insistence faltered a bit. “-whatever I please. You don’t even know this guy, so what’s-“

And in an instant, you were in fact holding a gun to the face of a small establishment owner, in defense of a defector no less. You’d forgive yourself for this, you supposed – this was your own petty selfishness. You weren’t ever in Numazu on business.

“Put it down,” you referred to the phone. And he did, slowly, not tearing his shocked, beady gaze from your imposing weapon. He went about printing a long receipt – four feet long, at least – before sliding it toward you with a sweaty palm.

Tucking your firearm back into safety, you examined the total at the bottom, fully and painfully aware of the owlish brown eyes on you.

A life in the mafia perfects a harsh resting face, so with no further reaction, you produced a sum of bills from your wallet – the entire tab plus enough to cover your own drinks and ample amount to keep him shut up about the gun. Ample amount to pull Dazai out of the bar and into the street uninterrupted.

“That was unnecessary, you know,” he chided you as you dragged him by his wrist.

“I don’t think you and the narcs would mix particularly well right now,” you said, stopping to face him at the bench outside. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He was obviously drunk, but he didn’t sound like when you would drink together before. He looked irritated at you. You ignored the crack that split your heart a bit as it occurred to you that maybe he was not happy to see you.

How would you answer? On my way back to the place you left me at? To the people that would probably kill you with no hesitation at this point in time?

“Trains are down.”

“And you are…coincidentally in the exact same part of the country as me?”

Hot tears started to well up at his accusatory tone. The last thing you wanted at this moment was to cry in front of him.

“Don’t give me that shit, Dazai, you-“

“What happened to first name privileges?”

Oh, he could never fail to give you absolute whiplash. Usually, it wasn’t so intense, but it was obvious he’d been messing with you by the way that god-forsaken smirk crept onto his pretty, pretty face. Nearly two years away from that whiplash had perhaps taken with it your accustomedness to it. You reeled for a moment. You hugged him the next. You told yourself it was solely to hide the wetness on your face.

“Missed me, huh?”

“You’re full of shit,” you croaked into the shoulder of his coat, but not letting up. Eventually, two strained hands made their way to the small of your back. A chin dropped onto the crown of your head. The light-polluted night sky was a little bluer. For this first time ever, you were suddenly very attuned to the idea that at many, many points in your life, you absolutely would have cited Osamu Dazai as your reason for staying with the Port Mafia. "You're absolutely fucking full of it."

"I know," he mumbled uncharacteristically. The last thing you would've expected was for him to agree, let alone so calmly and with such resignation; you wanted to shout so many things at him. All the same, you supposed you would like to drench the whole world in epoxy resin and keep it all like this forever. That'd be terrible for the environment, though, and you'd never get your answers.

The sanctuary of his arms began to unravel the moment you wished it never would. With you clung to his tiny waist - ever tinier - Dazai straightened himself out, cleared his throat.

He muttered your name. "Let me go now."

You shook your head violently. "What if I never get this again?" Whispered, intentionally, so it would be difficult to hear. (You knew better that nothing about you got past him.)

"You act like I'm dying."

"You still trying?"

"Always." He chuckled, but it wasn't funny to you. For a while, you thought maybe he had died, but the universe seemed to like to spite Dazai as much as he did it. If he was dead, you'd know. It didn't make his jokes any funnier.

He sighed. You knew he wanted to say something like you're ruining my buzz with your sappiness or something, and you weren't sure why he wasn't. Silence didn't go hand in hand with this man. Truth be told, you felt completely and unpleasantly sobered up, and cursed yourself momentarily for eating such a solid meal for lunch. Perhaps this would feel easier if you were dying.

Reluctantly, you pulled back to look up at him. He looked hollow. Gorgeous. Eye bandage gone. You could count on one hand the number of times you'd seen him in plain clothes before, and this was one of them. A brown and tan color-blocked sweater, black jeans, sand-colored hunting boots. So far from your Osamu. You didn't feel shy under his searching eyes. You never did. You both began to speak, words beginning with "wh-", at the same time.

"You first," he suggested, a thick gulp giving away the guise of the amused smile he put on. (He should've known better that the opposite was true, as well.)

I'm a pathetic shell of a human being without you. You left and I wanted to kill myself and I wanted to kill you and I wished more than ever after you were gone that I'd taken you up on that stupid offer one of those times. You left me. You left me to rot. I hate you. That's not true. I can't lie to you. You're the only good thing in my life. "What are you doing now?"

Another thing you noticed was that he didn't reek of blood anymore. You didn't doubt for a second that he couldn't say the same about you. Desperation was a sickening green color, but you'd always liked green quite a bit, and you knew he did, too.

"Nothing you can't tag along for."

He didn't have to hope for you to say anything.

#bsd dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #with love—reid

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painted-doe · 15 days ago

Text

WIP word search, part 2: the word-searchening

Got tagged again by dear @writethewolvesaway and I had so much fun with the first round that I decided to go again! Especially since you guys were so encouraging about Lagniappe... enjoy :)

My keywords were: whisper, bleak, yellow, glass

whisper From an untitled (but almost complete) Sambucky fic in which Valentina shows up, activates some latent Winter Soldier programming that causes Bucky to doubt his hard-won autonomy, and angst ensues.

“And let’s not kid ourselves, Sam Wilson’s not much better. Guys like him, they want a fixer-upper. They want the satisfaction of repairing something. But you… oh, Sarge, how long until he realizes you’re just way, way too broken for him to fix? Honey, I’m trying to help you. I’m here to offer you something.”

He spat on her expensive leather boot. She didn’t flinch. “A life as your little wind-up killer? Like I said. Get. Fucked.”

“A purpose,” she said, unruffled. “A real purpose, working with people who respect you for what you are. Who don’t expect you to be anything more than what you are.”

Her fingers found his chin, played sweetly with the divot there. He jerked his face away but she clung tighter, dug her thumbnail into the soft skin of his lower lip.

“Isn’t it hard?” she whispered. “Aren’t all those expectations just so goddamn heavy? People keep telling you to get better, get with the times, make amends. Make amends for being hurt all those years. Isn’t that wild?”

“Nobody’s telling me shit,” he hissed.

“Sure they are.” She smiled. “I get your therapy transcripts. I like to read them over breakfast.”

bleak From the same untitled fic as above.

Sam shook his head. "God, Shuri’s going to be devastated, she was so sure she’d…”

“I know. I know.”

“Don’t you think she’s going to want to be part of this?”

Bucky looked away. The low sunlight turned his dark hair to gold, flopping over his eyes. It was getting long and shaggy, but somehow still looked good. Everything looked good on Bucky. It was deeply unfair.

“She has the right to say no to us, at least,” he said at last. “It’s her work we’re messing with. Fine. I’ll call her. You work on tracking down the red book.”

“And de Fontaine? We have to figure out what she wanted, why she--”

“Don’t bother. We know. She said she was here to pick something up.” Bucky looked up at him. Jaw clenched, eyes big and bleak and vulnerable in that way that made him look like a scared child, and Sam’s heart twisted hard. “She wants the Winter Soldier.”

yellow Another snippet from from “Lagniappe”.

How could Sarah look him in the eye? Let alone allow him around her boys? Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know how deep the stains were fixed in him?

But she slid her hand down his arm in a friendly way, the metal one, and she smiled.

All the angels he'd ever seen in stained glass had been fair-skinned and delicate and golden-haired; none of them had ever looked like solid, dark Sarah Wilson in the woodsy yellow sunlight. But here she was, brighter than any of them.

glass Yet another from "Lagniappe":

Those days of evaluations before the pardon had been mostly spent in windowless concrete rooms being interviewed by shrink after shrink. Being asked the same questions again and again in different ways to see if they could trick him into answering inconsistently. Having white coats repeatedly read off the list of trigger words that no longer sank hooks into his brain but still set his whole body trembling and sick, only to give him humiliating orders to see if he’d follow them: Stand on one foot. Sing me “Happy Birthday”. Drop and give me twenty. The only pleasure he’d taken in those sessions was in telling them to fuck off.

Jimmy Woo had hovered at the edges of those hazy shitty days. He was surprisingly high up the ladder of authority for such a young agent, and Bucky knew he’d often been in the other room, watching him through one-way glass or through the lens of a security camera. Sometimes Woo had been the one bringing him little paper cups of terrible black coffee, or styrofoam-wrapped sandwiches that tasted no better than their packaging, or, once, mercifully, a cigarette. For all his awkward glibness, the guy had been clever and respectful; he’d let Bucky go through it all without being restrained in mag-cuffs, and he’d looked him in the eye like a human being when he spoke to him. For a g-man, Woo had been all right.

If you read this far and you're a writer, consider yourself tagged! Even if (like me) you've been tagged before! Your words for this round are: guard, break, true, left

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everydayyoulovemeless · 1 year ago

Note

I don't know if you're doing requests, but I recently downloaded Tumblr again and happen to stumble across your account when looking through fallout stuff.

but, my request would be an (sfw, fluff) overboss reader x porter gage. but, here's the twist: the reader could be 16 or 17 years of age. obviously having a child as an overboss of three raider groups could never end well, but the reader knows how to hold their own; they're tough, reliable and gage gives them a chance as the overboss of nuka world, since they were able to take down colter.

the location of this one-shot would be in kiddy kingdom, after the reader convinces gage to go with them (without explaining why). the power in nuka world would be on, so the rides would be active.

could it be that the reader somehow convices gage to ride with them on one of the rides? e.i. the carousel, the spinning cars, Farris wheel, etc. gage could secretly enjoy this, but when they finally leave kiddy kingdom, the cherry on top would definitely be him saying, "listen, boss, if you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you myself."

this is completely random, and I'm unsure if you still write, but I thought this was a cute idea!

Kiddie Kingdom ↠ Platonic!Gage x Teen!Reader

➼ Word Count » 1.0k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Reader takes Gage to ride the Ferris Wheel in Kiddie Kingdom. ➼ A/N » This is so cute! I love fluffy Gage moments <33

There weren't many people who had any hope of taking over the park once you were elected to be their new overboss. There was a lot of risk in giving all the power to some kid who just happened to win against Colter. You couldn't blame them, after all, you weren't all too sure what you were doing when you first showed up either, but you were smart and picked up on what needed to be done early on. People eventually began relying on you, and you always came through, soon enough winning the trust and loyalty of most.

“Hey, Gage, I'm headed out to Kiddie Kingdom, did you wanna come with?” You called out as you rummaged through your trunk up in the Fizztop Grille.

“What the hell are you plannin’ on doin’ all the way out there? We cleared it didn’t we?”

“You coming or not?” You asked, moving to take your place on the elevator.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come, just gimme a second.”

Taking over the park wasn't as easy as you originally thought it'd be, especially since you had to do most of the heavy lifting, but as you walked down the dirt paths of Nuka-Town, seeing the place brought back to its former glory, all the work you accomplished felt worth it.

“Hey, boss, do I slack off on my job?" One of the Disciples called out as you and Gage passed by.

“No?” You answered, not entirely sure how to respond. It wasn't like you had files on all of your grunts, you had no idea who this guy even was.

“I told ya!” He said, hitting the other's shoulder with his hand, “Thanks, boss!”

The whole place was much more lively now that you had the power back up and running. The flashing carnival lights made everything seem brighter and more exciting. You preferred the newer atmosphere to the previous one. It was way too devoid of color and you liked how the raiders now all seemed full of wonder at everything they spotted.

"You gonna tell me why we're goin' here, or are ya just gonna keep me in the dark?" Gage glanced down at you, his rifle held firmly in his hands as he followed.

"You'll see," You spoke, "just be patient."

"Come on now, just spit it out." He pressed, "I feel like I'm walkin' into a trap."

You giggled, "Quit whining, we'll be there soon enough."

There was something so charming about the child-like aesthetics of the Kiddie Kingdom blending with the rustic horrors of the apocalypse. The bright colors and welcoming decorations added much to the impending danger that awaited behind the arches. You remember it feeling so enchanting when you and Gage first stepped foot inside the park's walls—like a Brothers Grimm fairytale.

You made a beeline to the Ferris Wheel once it came into view, "Well, hop on Gage."

"There ain't anythin' that could convince me to get on that giant deathtrap, boss." The raider retorted, "No offense, but that thing looks like it's gonna fall apart any second now."

"Come on," You said, sliding into the seats closest to the ground, "It'll be fun."

"I'm not gettin' on it."

"You followed me all the way out here, you might as well just go on one loop with me. Just press that button there and get on."

That seemed to have convinced him as he rolled his eyes, pressed the button, and slid into the capsule across from you, pulling down the handrails to keep either of you from falling out.

The heavy machinery slowly began to lift you both into the air, swaying and groaning as it did, making its age evident. It went slowly, pausing suddenly at certain moments due to it being so ancient. Gage noticeably tensed whenever it froze like that, gripping the handles with incredible force only for the ride to continue its route upward.

You were both about the same height as the castle when the ride came to a full stop, allowing you to peer out at the rest of the park.

Gage's ragged breaths continuously broke the silence, "You sure it's supposed to stop like this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's fine." You dismissed, waving away his concerns, "Look! You can see Fizztop Mountain!"

"That ain't nothin' special, you can see it from just 'bout anywhere in the park."

You undid your restraints and stood to better see everything, causing the capsule to sway and Gage to reach out and pull you back down into your seat.

"Knock that off! You tryin' to get us killed?"

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Gage, this thing's stable enough."

The look in his eye told you he didn't believe you, but he didn't argue, just strapped the bar back over your torso.

The Ferris Wheel then sparked back to life and slowly started to bring the two of you back to the ground, threatening to break at every creak and groan, until you were brought back to solid ground again.

You climbed out, jumping around excitedly at the thought of being so high up. "Ah! That was so fun! We should go on another one sometime!"

"Yeah, don't count on it."

"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it a little bit." You said, walking quickly to keep up with Gage as he made his way back to Nuka-Town.

He couldn't hide the small grin that made its way onto his face, "No, I hated that. Felt we were gonna fall at any minute."

You only gave him a knowing glance and a doubtful hum as you clasped your hands behind your back before he finally stopped walking. “Listen, boss, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you myself.”

You snickered before saluting him, “Sure thing, Gage. I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.” And with that, you both started toward the Fizztop Grille again, certain that you'd be able to get him on another ride someday.

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gvfgal · 2 years ago

Text

Bound- Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Twelve

A/n: We’ve made it to the end! It’s been quite the ride, and I wanna thank everyone who took the time to read this little story of mine out of the thousands other out there!! You guys are seriously amazing and have made writing this series so much fun. There’s much more to come from me, and as always, enjoy <3

Content Warnings: Angst, arguing, language, kinda mean Jake (but he makes up for it), explicit sexual content, light fingering, unprotected sex, NOT GONNA SPOIL THE REST!!!

Word Count: 5.2k

One Week Later…

My dearest Y/n, May 27th, 1973

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, then again that’s nothing new. It pains me to know that I’ve gone the past two years of my life without you by my side, and I miss you more than I can put into words.

I know my mistakes in the past led us to where we are now, and I’m so sorry for all the pain that I’ve caused you, I never wanted to break your heart. I was foolish, and immature, and I took our time together for granted.

But despite all of that, my love for you has never wavered. You’re the light of my life, babydoll, and still the reason I wake up every morning and dare to face the world.

I want you to know ,y/n, that even though I can’t change the past, I’m not giving up on us. I believe in my heart that we were bound to be together, that we’re two halves of a whole, and I’m willing to walk this earth alone until you find your way back to me. All I want from this life is you in my arms again, so I can spend the rest of my days making you happy, and proving to you just how much I love you.

Please take care of yourself, and know that I’m waiting for you.

I love you, I miss you.

Yours Always,

Jake

You slid the postcard back into its envelope and sat it with the pile of others you’d already read through with a heavy sigh. For the past week, you’d spent your time holed up at your mother’s house, experiencing all the emotions that a situation like this could put you through.

Grief, relief, frustration, happiness, fear, optimism. All of those feelings were a constant swirling storm inside of you.

In all honesty, you didn’t know when you’d get the courage to finally speak to Jake, if you’d ever find the courage at all. The last words he said to you were the biggest roadblock preventing you from facing him.

“…if you walk out that door, you might as well never look back…”

But he was there, right there. A short twenty minute drive up the road, back at his parents for a few weeks before he was back on the road again with his brothers.

You knew your window of opportunity was closing in, every day that passed was another day closer to his departure. Yet still, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

The air smelled of fresh rain, heavy gray clouds rolling off into the distance as the recent storm passed over. The harsh sun peeked from behind them, its light reflecting off of the dewdrops in the grass making it shine that much brighter.

That porch swing had been your anchoring spot since you’d arrived, spending every moment that you possibly could in the comfort of its gentle rocking. Your mom was very mindful of giving you your space, only popping in every once in a while to check on you when she felt it necessary.

At times, it was nice to have her company, but she knew well that what you needed more than anything in those days was peace and solitary, and you were so very thankful for her understanding.

However, it was time for one of her routine check ins. Your back was facing the door, but you heard it creak open slowly before slamming back shut.

Hopefully she has tea, you thought to yourself as you waited for her to take a seat. And ever attentive to your needs, she handed you a steaming white mug as she sat down beside you.

“Just wanted to check on you, how are you feeling? Careful, it’s hot.”

You heeded her warning and sat the mug down on the small side table, giving her a shrug, “I don’t really know,” you scoffed, “it’s like I’m feeling a whole bunch, but at the same time I feel nothing.”

Her gaze was casted into the distance, her graying hair blowing out behind her. For the first time in a while, you realized that she was really aging, and it made you think of how much time had passed, and how quickly it had done so.

“Well, do you know what you’re gonna do?” she asked.

Once again, you shrugged, “I don’t know, mama. I’m afraid this is really the end for Jake and me,” she turned to look at you, “you didn't see the look on his face when I walked out that door back in Montana, I’d never seen him like that before. I put him through absolute hell. And though it wasn’t intentional,” you shook your head, that thought being tossed into the wasteland of your mind, “what if it’s too late?”

Your mom sat up straighter, something she did whenever she was about to spew words of wisdom or encouragement. But instead, something entirely different left her mouth.

“That very well may be the case, and if it is, you can’t do nothing but accept it.”

Your head dropped. So much for that encouragement.

“But baby,” she continued, calling your attention back to her, “do you really think you and Jake could ever stay away from each other? Isn’t that what got you into this situation in the first place?”

You don't answer her, only turning to look out of the post-rain landscape as she had done before. She grabs the thin blanket thrown over the back of the swing and drapes it across the both of you, “I wanna tell you a story, of how me and your father came to be me and your father. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this story before.”

She was right, she hadn’t, and your interest was piqued. If the story had anything to do with helping your current situation, you were all ears.

You scooped up your much cooler tea from the table and tucked your knees up to your chest, giving her your full attention.

“I met your dad when I was sixteen at the spring festival they host in town every year. I’d just moved here from an even smaller town, if you can believe it, and I didn’t know a soul here. I went by myself,” she chuckled.

“Your dad saw me sitting alone, and he was the first person to come up and talk to me. He was so charming, y/n,” she grinned, “I was swoon from the moment he said hello. We spent the entire night side by side and by the time we said our goodbyes, I was sure he was the one for me.”

You smiled at that, the thought of your parents young and in love similar to the way you and Jake were.

“But, as I was waiting for your grandma to pick me up, I met Oliver Holloway, star football player of the high school team. And, boy was he something. He sat and talked with me while I waited, and by the end of that night, I didn’t know who I wanted. So… I started seeing both of ‘em, without the other knowing.”

“Mama,” you gasped playfully, causing her to chuckle. She was always a saint to you, it was hard to imagine her in such a way.

“It’s not like I wanted to see both of them at the same time, I just couldn’t choose. Each of those guys brought out a different side of me, and I liked both of them. It worked for awhile, but of course, I got caught, by your father, and he told me I had to make a choice.”

You were growing more and more interested in her story, not even aware that you were leaning in, chomping at the bits for her next words.

“I knew your father was the right choice. Oliver was nice and everything, but it was just something about your dad that I knew Oliver could never amount to, but I picked him anyway.”

You furrowed your brow, “you what?”

She nodded, “told your father to his face that I was choosing Oliver over him, not one of my better moments.”

“Well then what happened?” you pressed.

“Well, it didn’t take me long to realize that I hadn’t made the right choice after all. I was miserable without your father around, and I didn’t know how much I’d miss him until he was gone. Yes, I liked Oliver, but with your father, it was just different, I still can’t explain it to this day.”

You nodded in understanding, you knew that feeling all too well.

“When I told my friends that I thought I made a mistake, and I wanted to get your dad back, they all called me crazy. ��You gutted him’, ‘There’s no way he’s gonna take you back after that’. And I almost believed them. But something inside of me told me that, if I didn't at least try, I’d spend the rest of my life regretting it. So I ended things with Oliver, and I went to see him.”

“He gave me a hard time at first, a really hard time. But in the end, we managed to make it work. And the rest is history.”

She placed a gentle hand on your knee giving you a small grin, “and I’m so thankful that I made that choice,” she choked out in an attempt to suppress her sobs.

“I can’t even imagine what my life would be like had I not taken that chance. I could’ve easily listened to what my friends were feeding me. I could’ve stayed with Oliver, maybe married him, and who knows, I probably would’ve had a pleasant life. But I don't think it could even amount to the beautiful life I built with your father, and I wouldn’t have gotten you, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” her palm cupped your cheek, and you leaned into her touch.

“I miss him so much, but there’s a certain level of peace that I have knowing that I chose him, and loved him with everything in me until he took his last breaths.”

You both were crying silently now, holding each other close as the sun began to set on the horizon.

You were right, the story had helped, and you knew what you needed to do next. You refused to live your life in regret, possibly missing out on the life you always dreamed of having with Jake.

That night, you’d allow yourself to rest. But the next morning, you were going to him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jake was up early that morning, as he usually was since he’d been back in Townsend. With him taking a nice long break from drinking, and no music to occupy his time, he’d been spending his days fixing stuff around his parents property.

First was reinforcing his old abode, then it was fixing the steps to his parents front porch that had begun to wither away. Little by little, project by project, he worked himself tired so he’d sleep at night, and kept his mind occupied in hopes it wouldn’t drift to thoughts of you.

For all the good it did.

The forecast called for more rain that day, though it didn’t take a weather reporter in a fancy suit to tell him that. The looming gray clouds from the night before had returned with a vengeance, and it was only a matter of time before the rain began to fall again.

Jake had his truck backed into the space that once housed he and his brothers music equipment, now acting as a proper garage. On his ride back from town earlier, it began sputtering, something that frustrated him greatly at first, but he soon realized it’d be another project to keep him occupied.

The humidity had him working with his shirt off, his body slid underneath the hood as he tinkered away. The music that played softly blended with the sound of rolling thunder, setting a peaceful backdrop for his project, but a third sound rang out into his ears, causing him to stop all his movements.

“Jake?”

Oh shit, am I dead? He thought to himself. Surely, the truck must have fallen on him while he was working, and now, he was in heaven. It was the only way he could explain hearing your voice in that moment. How exactly he’d made it there, he had no clue.

He slowly slid from under the car, his eyes fixed in your direction as you came into his view, dressed in a white sundress.

Maybe I am dead.

But he quickly shook away the silly thought, the feeling of seeing you there felt all too real.

Your eyes scanned his body swiftly, practically drooling at the way his entire abdomen was gleaming with sweat.

He stood from the ground and grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the motor oil from his hands.

“Howdy.”

“Hi Jake,” you shuffled on your feet as you pulled your bag close to you.

Awkward silence lingered between the two of you as he stood and stared at you, not a single emotion crossing his face.

“Ho-how are you doing?” You stammered, not daring to step an inch closer.

Another roll of thunder sounded around you, and Jake shielded his eyes to look up at the threatening sky, “I’m alright,” he glanced back at you, “you?”

“Okay.”

More silence, more thunder.

“Look Jake,” you spoke up, voice cracking under the pressure, “I… I don't even know what to say. Well, first of all I’m really sorry, for everything. I know that you probably don’t even wanna see me right now.”

He wanted to agree with you, but it wouldn’t have been true. Seeing your face was the highlight of his recently empty days. But he said nothing.

“But…” you continued, trying to find the best way to arrange your words, “well I left him. I left August.”

Jake widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest, “why?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “wh-what do you mean why? You know why, Jake.”

“For me?” He scoffed, burning you with his harsh tone. You could feel tears beginning to sting at the back of your eyes, but forward you pressed.

“For us.”

“Us, huh?” He shook his head, “you didn’t seem too worried about ‘us’ when you walked out on me.”

Beginning to feel desperate, you took a step towards him, “Jake you know it—”

“Yeah, no, I get it. Complicated, right?” he gawks at you in disbelief before turning around to fumble in his toolbox. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he’d know when he found it.

At that point he’d checked out of the conversation, and you could feel your chance growing smaller and smaller. You hated that feeling, like you were suffocating slowly.

“Jake,” you peeped as tears began to slide down your face, “don’t do this, please.”

“Damn it, do what, y/n?” he shouted as he swiftly turned back to face you with eyes full of fury, “you made your choice when you left! Remember?”

You didn’t let his sudden anger affect you. Instead, you stood straighter, puffing your chest out, “you're right, I did make my choice. I chose to leave August, break his fucking heart, because I want to be with you.”

Fat raindrops began to spill from the sky, but neither you or Jake moved.

“Yeah, you wanna be with me now,” he spat, “but what about then? You couldn’t wait to get back to Nashville, back to him,” he took a step towards you and jammed a finger in your direction, “you had me thinkin’ things were finally right between us again, all for you to just snatch it away from me.”

“I couldn’t just desert him like that!” you yelled back at him, feeling your own anger beginning to surface.

“Yes you could! You just didn’t want to, because you don't really want to be with me! You just like the idea of having me chase you for the rest of my natural born life cause you know I’d do it, no questions asked.”

You couldn’t believe the words that he was saying, but rather than making you sad, they only fueled your rage.

“God, get over yourself Jake!” you shoved him in his chest, causing him to stumble backwards, “you act like you have zero fault in this! Like you didnt leave me first! It’s how we ended up here in the first goddamn place!”

Jake rolled his eyes, “oh for fucks sake,” he leaned into your face so that you could hear him clearly, “that was five fucking years ago. I apologized to you a million times, we talked about it, and even still I beat myself up for it every! Fucking! Day! Get over it already!”

“I am over it! I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t! But you’re not gonna stand here and blame me for all of this,” you threw your hands up in the air to emphasize your point.

Jake stood huffing at you, defiantly choosing not to speak, but he didn’t need to.

“Jake this is a mess,” you scoffed in disbelief, blinking away a raindrop that rested on your eyelid.

“Yeah, I know,” he bit out, “it seems like it’s always a mess when it comes to us. Which is why we’re probably better off without each other.”

He turned with nothing else, entering the shelter of the garage just as the steady sprinkle transitioned into a heavy downpour, leaving you exposed to the elements.

“Jake you don’t mean that.”

He knows he doesn’t, how could he? But he still chose to ignore you, beginning to dig in his toolbox again.

You stalk over to him, “Jake, don’t walk away from me.”

When he doesn’t respond, you grab him by his shoulder and force him to face you. He’s still fuming, staring directly into your glassy eyes.

There, he could see practically the entirety of his past. From the first moment he laid eyes on you, to catching fireflies with you at the creek. Dancing with you at the middle school dance, the longing glances he gave you across the halls in high school. The summer of 72’, and all of the bleak days that followed his departure. The bar in Nashville, Montana, oh, Montana.

He was sure that this was the end for the two of you, but still found it strange, that even looking into his eyes and seeing the past, he could also see his entire future.

“Jake I love you,” you begged, cupping his face in your hands. You were soaking wet, your dress clinging to your body as the tears continued to stream, probably looking everything like the dictionary definition of desperate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

His eyes avoided yours at all costs as his jaw clenched, but you were having none of it.

“Jake,” you push lightly on his chin to make him look at you again, “I love you. It’s always been you, there could never be anyone else for me.”

You press your lips to his, but he doesn’t kiss you back, his forehead, does though, meet with yours as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Y/n, stop… it’s done.”

Every muscle in your body fights to cling to him, but instead, you pull away with an understanding nod. You wanted to say something to him, a final goodbye, but the shards of your broken heart stabbed at you so savagely, you couldn’t form words.

This was it, you were sure of it. The last heartbreak you could ever take.

You turned slowly to walk away, and Jake stood watching as the rain began to soak you again. He lets you get a comfortable distance away before he stops you with a call of your name.

Facing him again, you waited for him to speak or move, but he did no such thing. You felt as if this was his way of dragging out the torture just a little bit longer, but all you did was subject yourself to it. You couldn’t move, and you could hardly breathe.

Suddenly, his feet began moving towards you at a slow pace, his heavy boots splashing in the mud. But with every step he took, his speed increased, and soon you found yourself quickly moving in his direction as well. Both of you were running until your bodies crashed into each other with a forceful impact.

Jake swept you off of your feet and into his arms, his lips finding yours in a desperate and passionate kiss that knocked the wind from your lungs. With no resistance, you allowed him to hoist you up, your legs involuntarily tangling around his waist as you kissed him back with just as much ardor.

You pondered momentarily if what was happening was the end, if this was just one last kiss goodbye. You hated the thought of it, but you’d welcome it for the simple fact that you’d take what you could get. But with all the emotion that Jake was pouring into the kiss, you quickly realized that it couldn’t have even anything but a welcome home.

It’s as if it were echoing back to you your words from earlier, “I love you… It’s always been you, there could never be anyone else for me…”.

No, he didn’t say it, but you could feel it, and you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

His tongue delved into your mouth with urgency as he began making his way back into the house, carrying you all the way with him. Each of you were so desperate once you made it through the door, that you stopped in the small entryway, Jake propping your body against the wall as his hand began searching under your dress.

“Missed you babydoll, so much,” he panted into the crook of your neck as his tongue collected the droplets of water clinging to your skin. Your head fell back against the wall and your grip on his shoulders tightened as his fingers began tracing the outline of your underwear.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his ear, pressing your core into his touch,”I’m sorry Jakey I shouldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shh,” his fingers ghosted over your mouth to halt your rambling, and a gentle smile spread across his face, “no more apologizing. We’re done with that. Okay?”

He stroked your cheek as you stared at one another, so in love with the person that stared back at you.

“You forgive me?”

“Of course I do, darling,” he shakes his head at you, “I could never stay mad at you. Could never stay away from you. I need you too much. My girl…”

Your mouth opened to bestow the same adoration upon him, but all that escaped was a breathy moan as his fingers finally pushed past your underwear into your heat. He mimicked your reaction, a similar wisp of air leaving his mouth as he added a second finger.

“I love you Jake,” it tumbled out of you faster than you could process, your subconscious speaking for you when your conscious mind couldn’t, “I love you.”

“I know, I love you too,” his fingers were dragging in and out of you slowly as he drank in every whimper and facial expression you produced. The moment only lasted for a few more seconds before he was pulling his fingers from your warmth, hoisting you around his body again to carry you up to his room, his need to be one with you taking over everything.

His room was like a time capsule, left almost exactly how it was on that dreadful night so many years ago. But it brought you both a sense of comfort being in there again under much different circumstances, this time signifying a beginning rather than an end.

Jake sat you down on the bed gently, pulling your dress up over your head in the same movement to reveal your supple chest to him. Already without a shirt, he made quick work of his oil stained jeans and underwear. You removed your own, and within seconds of both of you becoming completely nude, Jake was on the bed and sinking himself into you.

He stiffened when you tightened around him, as if you were trying to pull him in deeper, and another strangled moan escaped you at the impact. But you welcomed all of him, with all of you.

“God, you’re fucking everything,” he grunted as his face fell into the crook of your neck, “fucking everything.”

Your bodies were pressed so seamlessly together that you were sure you could morph into one fluid being at any moment, and in a strange way, you wished you could. If it meant that you’d never have to be apart from him again, then so be it.

His thrusts were slow but impactful, sending your body reeling back with every union of your hips, as if he were trying to transfer everything her felt for you over.

“Thank you baby, thank you for coming back to me.”

You couldn’t stop the repeated whimpers long enough to respond, instead you tangled a hand into his hair, pulling his face closer to you as your body began rocking to meet his thrusts.

Your tongue searched out his neck, savoring the piquant taste of the sweat and rain combined on his skin. He shivered, and when he did his pace began to quicken, hips snapping into you like he was trying to prove a point.

“I love you,” you mewled, the only words you seemed to be able to produce, but that was more than enough for Jake. You could say it a million more times and he’d never grow tired of hearing it, ever.

His once controlled pace began to falter, signaling his approaching end, and without much thought, you wrapped your legs around his waist again.

He peeled himself away to look you in the eyes with a soporific smile, “inside, babydoll? You want me inside of you?”

You nodded, “yes. Yes Jakey please. Need it.”

His fingers began strumming at your clit, and your back arched away from the bed as you let out another loud yelp.

“You gonna cum with me?” He pressed, fingers speeding up ever so slightly, “finish together?”

Again, you nodded, one rogue tear slipping down your face, “right now.”

Jake leaned forward, kissing away the tear from the apple of your cheek before pressing his face flush against yours. The angle that this created had your stomach writing in knots, begging for that sweet rhapsody that was soon to be yours.

“I love you babydoll, I love you I love you,” he repeated, “thank you… I love you…my girl…”

With very little composure left, he gave you three more pointed thrusts before he was spilling out inside of you. The sensation of his pulsing cock was all it took for you to come undone as well, the thought of both of your releases joining in union inside of you sending an after shock of electricity through your body far after you came down.

Jake was huffing hot breaths into your ear, his body still conjoined with yours. Your legs fell from around his body, and slowly, he could feel you beginning to leak.

He looked into your eyes for conformation without a word, and your trembling arms lifted to wrap around his sticky neck.

You knew exactly what it was he was asking of you, the desperation in his expression a dead giveaway. And more than anything, you wanted to grant him his wish. It may have been crazy to some, but in your mind, you and Jake had wasted enough time apart. And now, you wanted to be his, only his, forever and in all ways.

You gently pulled down on his body so that his forehead met yours, giving him a ghost of a kiss, “all yours, Jake.”

It was all the permission he needed, and with the last bit of strength left in him, he pushed himself back into you, all of himself. You matched his movements, and the sound that the action created caused Jake to throw his head back in ecstasy.

“All mine.”

For him, it wasn’t the lewdness of the situation, but simply the symbolism of it. The thought of what could come just from those few seconds of bliss.

When he felt like the job had been done, he rolled from on top of you, but his arms quickly found yours again, pulling you close until your head was resting on his chest.

You laid there in silence, Jake staring up at the ceiling as your fingers toyed lazily with the chain of the necklace.

A small roll of thunder sounded through the quiet room, causing you to scoot a little closer to him.

“Baby,” he spoke up, barely above a whisper, “you know I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said out there. I—”

“Jake,” you stopped him, and his gaze found yours, “you said we were done with apologizing, remember?” you smiled at him, and he did the same.

“I wanna show you somethin’.”

He lifted off of the bed and began rummaging through his nightstand drawer. When his hands found the item he was looking for, he clutched it tightly and turned back to you.

Your eyes fell to the small box in his palm, and your heart rate began to quicken rapidly.

“Jake wha—”

“I bought this ring five years ago with the advance I got from the record deal,” his voice was slightly unsteady, but he was determined to see this through. He opened the box to reveal a modestly sized cut diamond.

You gasped dramatically, covering your mouth with your hand as you let him continue.

“I didn’t know when, but I knew one day that I was gonna put this ring on your finger. It was sitting there the night everything went down between us, and it’s been sitting there every day, waiting for you to come back to me.”

He took the ring from the box and removed your hand from your face, holding it securely in his own, “Y/n, I love you. And all I want is to make you my wife. So will you marry me, babydoll?”

He looked at you expectantly, so much love humming through his veins you thought he might explode, and it almost appeared as if he was afraid you’d say no.

But how could you? After all the obstacles that life threw at the two of you, a moment like this should have been impossible. Be that as it may, you were fully convinced that nothing in this world could keep you Jake and apart. Not the distance, not five years, nothing.

Some people were made for each other. Plain and simple. And you knew without a doubt that every atom of your body was made for Jake Kiszka, and his, you.

A grin began to spread across your face, “I like the sound of that.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taglist: @jakesgrapejuice @josh-iamyour-mama @objectsinspvce @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock

(There were a few of you who’s names I couldn’t find, maybe bc it’s been changed, so sorry if I missed you)

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theangelcatalogue · 3 months ago

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Help LGBTQ Refugee Survive Camp!!

Hello! I'm Angel! And this is something my friend and moot, @starsinthenigth, told me about!

This is a fundraiser made by a guy called Judas (internet name NervesNebula), he's an American fundraising for his friend, Abdul who's currently in Gorom Refugee Settlement, because he's been the target of anti-LGBTQ+ harassment. For months, he's been relying on Judas alone, but now he needs more money than Judas is able to provide in order to pay for food and shelter. Abdul hopes to start a business so that he doesn't have to rely on me so much, but he needs money to do it!!

This is Abdul story in his own words:

" My name is Abdul and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart, seeking your compassion, understanding, and support. I am a survivor, an advocate, and a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Today, I want to share with you my story of resilience, courage, and the desperate need for assistance.

Five years ago, I made the painful decision to flee my home country, Uganda, where my sexual orientation made me a target of persecution and discrimination. In search of a safe haven, I embarked on a journey into the unknown, leaving behind everything I held dear. Little did I know that my path would be filled with unimaginable hardships and struggles.

Since arriving in a foreign land in Kenya I faced countless challenges forcing me to flee to South Sudan. I am not just fighting for my own survival, but also for the well-being of other young individuals, especially children, who find themselves in similar circumstances. The weight of responsibility on my shoulders is immense, as I strive to provide them with a glimmer of hope and a chance for a better future.

As I stand before you today, I am compelled to admit that the road has been so hard. I find myself in a very bad state . Basic necessities like food, shelter, and medical care have become luxuries I can no longer afford. Hunger has become my constant companion, and the nights spent in the cold have taken a toll on my health and spirit.

Despite these overwhelming challenges, my determination remains unyielding. I refuse to let despair define my journey. I believe that within every heart, there lies a reservoir of kindness and empathy. It is this belief that gives me the strength to reach out to you, to share my story, and to ask for your support in my fight for survival.

The funds raised through this GoFundMe campaign will be used to address our most immediate needs. They will enable me to secure safe, stable housing, ensuring that the children under my care have a roof over their heads. They will provide nourishing meals, clean water, and access to healthcare, allowing us to regain our strength and vitality. Additionally, these funds will help us create sustainable livelihood opportunities, empowering us to break free from the cycle of poverty and build a brighter future.

Your contribution, no matter the size, will make a profound difference in our lives. It will not only alleviate the suffering we endure but also serve as a beacon of hope, reminding us that compassion and solidarity exist in this world.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read our story and for considering our plea for help.

Your generosity will not be forgotten our spirit of humanity. "

THE LINK FOR THE FUNDRAISER

They raised 611 USD raised of their $6,000 goal!

Please! Donate if you can! You can also share this story!

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annnaanya · 6 months ago

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an ode to twenty.

i blinked and suddenly, i am no longer 12, or 15, or 18. i am no longer a child.

I complain a lot. Awfully a lot for someone who hasn’t experienced much at all. May it be over something I cannot control, may it be about someone who has a mind of their own. Stepping into the 20’s club was a journey I never thought I’d get to experience ever. I never planned on living this long, but I guess it’s not too bad. You get your ups and downs, but everything matters, right? Could be for the better for or for the worse, but everything qualifies to be packed up to experience. On the brighter side, it's a more valid reason to complain.

Oh, 20. You’ve done a number on me. If I didn’t know better I wouldn’t have recognized the girl who I was before you. I blinked and suddenly I’m no longer a child. Suddenly, I’m dragging myself out of bed, making myself pretty to pretend like nothing ever fazes me, even if everything does—everything shakes my very being, but I’ve learned to never blink even when things go downhill. I’ve learned how to function even when I’m under the bus, getting drowned in the mud that I personally made myself. I’ve learned how to push through even through the moments that feel suffocating—even through moments that feel like it’s never going to end. I’ve learned how to let go of the heavy things, maybe even some of the pretty things that make my heart feel nice in the name of pushing through. I don’t know how to feel about it, it doesn’t feel fair that I still don’t have the best decision making skills and my judgment is still basically questionable, but hey, if I’m still here, maybe I’m still doing something right, no?

I could go on picking bones on every single questionable thing I’ve done during you, but this is an ode after all, so I will refrain. You’ve done good amid it all, I guess it’s only fair to tell you how proud I am of you. 6 months ago, you were told (by someone professional btw) that you were afraid of success, mostly because of the discomfort that it came with. While it’s already been years of fighting yourself, I’m glad you’re still winning. I’m glad that we’re still here. I’m glad you’re growing to be okay with the discomfort that life throws at you. You’re still shit at it, but you’re okay. You have people to hold on to. They want to be there for you, you need to stop gaslighting yourself that they don’t and that you don’t deserve them. It’s okay. It’s cheesy, but man, everything will be alright in time. You’ll figure it out eventually.

Life didn’t stop when you were 15. It didn’t stop (in no particular order) when you failed your finals, or when flunked out of the dean’s list, or when you were in the brink of not finishing your thesis on time for the defense, or when some guy broke your heart, or when you physically didn’t walk the stage to deliver your high school speech that you dreamed of for 6 solid years, or when you didn’t get to your dream college—it didn’t stop even if you were too tired to think straight. Life didn’t stop at 15 and all of the other times you wish it would. So now you’re here, finally at 21. It’s not what you expected it to look like, but hey, it’s going to make sense in the long run. Just hold on. You have loved and lost and you’re going to feel more of those but it’s always better to love and have lost than to lose and never have loved at all.

Fuck whatever happens at 21, let yourself have fun even just for the hope of it all.

#turning 21 #freeformessay #a message to myself???#this is ansgty asf who is this #angst

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thewritersaddictions · 2 years ago

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Blurb: The Adults- Love Language

Eddie Munson

Eddie’s love language is physical touch.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do if he can’t be touch you or at least be near you. Long distance trips are never good for him. You’re like a drug and he’s just gotta have it. When you are together, Eddie has got his hands twined with yours. Rough calluses on his hands due to his guitar, and your hands just so fucking soft and supple that he can’t help but be holding them. In front of other people he’s always got his hand around your waist keeping you in close by his side. If Eddie could he’d had been inside your clothes inside your scent, he’s love that idea of you so much.

Eddie’s has his favorite nicknames you. Sweetheart, Doll, and sometimes when things get hot and heavy, or he’s gotten himself in a little trouble with you he calls you Mama.

Steve Harrington

Steve’s love language used to be gift giving.

A bad love language habit that he learned from years of being treated like he didn’t matter. Years of watching his father and mother just gift him things to make things better. (In previous relationships if he was in the wrong or had fucked it up in any major way, Steve was racing to a store. Buying flowers, chocolates, or even jewelry trying to repair it).

Steve’s love language now is Acts of Service. He notices it with the kids. Consistently having to keep the kids safe has caused him to notice more things then he’s remembers. You’re different though, you’re special to him. You’ve got a headache your man is there with a thousands different remedies, closing blinds to keep the harsh sun of the way, brining you whatever you need. You’re on your period. He’s there readying to get snacks and keep his warm soft hand on your belly to keep the cramps at bay.

Steve’s got his favorite nicknames for you. Love, Good-looking, and Honey (Steve when he was very young and his parents were still around would sometimes here his father say things like “Honey, do you know….” Or “Honey, have you seen my wallet?”

Argyle

Argyle's love language is quality time.

Argyle is just a person who loves to be around you. He could care less if you were guys were doing something that was stupid, or if it was a fancy dinner out. All Argyle wanted to do was just spend the time with you. You and him would sit in the back of that pizza van smoking weed. He loved the way that your eyes would blow out, and the goofy way you got with the weed. You laughs were his favorite, and he loved it when he could make you laugh.

He also loves when you read to him. When you guys lay down, and it doesn't matter where you lay down. He loves when you guys plan a night out at lovers lake. He plans it with blankets and pillows that he stuffs into the back of the van. He's always the one that set's up the scene. He loves when you drag your soft nibble fingers through his hair as your read aloud one of your favorite books.

Argyle's got his favorite nicknames for you. Love-bug, and Sweetie, but his favorite on to use is Sunshine. (He calls you this whenever he sees you smile. It doesn't even matter if it's not towards Argyle. He just loves to see it, it makes your eyes brighter, makes you look just as vibrant as the sun.) (Maybe that's where he got the nickname from.)

Billy Hargrove

Billy's love language is gift giving.

Billy has had a worked warped view on women for most of his life. When his mother left him alone with his father things took a drastic and horrible turn in Billy's life and from then on out it was hard for Billy to see women in any other way than something he could flirt with and use.

That was before he met you though. God when he met you he felt like a kid, his heart bumping in chest. He loved you the minute you two locked eyes. He didn't change everything about himself he just changed the things that made him realize that he wasn't always the best person. Changed his outlook towards women. treated like you were his damn princess. Like he was your knight, some guy looks at you like your piece of meat, he'd right there shooting daggers with his eyes.

Billy's got a few favorite nicknames for you. He loves call you his girl, (when he first does call you his girl it causes shivers to run down your spine.) He also loves to call you baby, and princess, both of which make your heart and soul melt a little every time he does it. But his favorite of all time to call you is peaches. He started calling you peaches whenever you would wear the tightest clothes you had. Jeans that showed off your best asset. Damn the dresses that made this man nearly buckle at the knees. (You'll never tell him but your favorite nickname that he calls you is peaches too)

Jonathan Byers

Jonathan's love language is Words of affirmation.

(He's a lot like Argyle who's just in love you with all of his heart, but he's also just pure sweetness. Not a single bone in his body is cruel.) This man loves writing little notes of how much he loves you. They come as shock that first time you find one. It's stuffed between the pages of one your books. His handwriting is a little sloppy, words mushing together on the small sticky note. gradually the writing gets better and the notes get too big for the sticky notes, they turn into large paragraphs, then to little stories.

You keep every single note that you find around your things. Notes were just the start of it thought. When you were out one day it turned into him actually saying to you. "I love your hair like that." Jonathan said his hand coming to comb through the waves you had. Another time when you were working on your projects, he turned and looked over at you from the bed. Smiling, "I do you how much you inspire me." He said to you, you turned and you were able to hide the deep shade that your cheeks got. One of your absolute favorites is when you had graduated from college, yeah sure Jonathan had graduated too, but he was so damn proud of you for working through all the hard work and sleepless days. When you reached each other he engulfed you in a large hug. Whispering in your ear so no one else was able to hear. "I'm so damn proud of you Y/n." You melted into his touch and it felt like heaven.

Jonathan's got his favorite nicknames for you. He loves call you Angel, sometimes about the way you just make everything okay and good around you makes him see has his special little angel. You're always on his mind, floating around in his thoughts. So, he comes up with the best nickname for you. You're his dove. His beautiful little Dove.

#steve harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #billy Hargrove #billy Hargrove x reader #argyle x you #argyle #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Jonathan byers #Jonathan byers x reader #strangers things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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nanaosaki3940 · 2 years ago

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You Will Realize I Wasn’t A Mistake!!

The Crimson Butterfly [My Hero Academia & Tokyo Ghoul]

Synopsis: It wasn’t until he met her for the first time that their encounter made him believe that the world is just as beautiful as her. She was brighter than the summer sun, prettier than the spring flowers, kinder than the winter moon & warmer than his blue flames. She was his first and only love, his life, his biggest fan, his supporter, his playmate, his healer, his everything... Even after his supposed ‘death’.

|| My Hero Academia ft. Tokyo Ghoul || (Follows the canon storyline of MHA & is up-to-date with the manga.)

Pairing: Touya Todoroki X OC/Reader X Shoto Todoroki

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst.

Note: Shoto and my OC are of the same age (16 yrs old) and Dabi/Touya is 8 yrs older than them (24 yrs old) - Just like how it is in the manga.

I know this is an xOC fic, but you can read it as a self-insert if you like.

Nana’s POV (2 days after the Paranormal Liberation War)

“I said the same thing to Gran Torino as well, but…” the doctor stated to my old man Aizawa. “If you had waited even a moment longer, it would have been even worse. Thanks to Rock Lock, Manual, and the others prioritizing your life you’re here.”

Right now, I was in Aizawa’s cabin with Present Mic with my old man lying down on his hospital bed. After Shigaraki shot the quirk-destroying bullet in his right leg, Aizawa had to cut off his leg on the battlefield in order to prevent the drug from destroying his quirk.

“Thank god, you’re okay…” I sighed as I put my head on Aizawa’s shoulder. “I thought you would’ve died, you old geezer…”

“The world can’t get rid of me that easily, brat…” Aizawa responded, gently patting my head.

“Even Kayama senpai… Why…” Mic trailed off.

“Please don’t say it, Mic…” I mumbled, biting my bottom lip as tears started to form in my eyes. “It’s too much for me, you know… First my parents… then one of my mentors, Sir Nighteye… now my foster mother, Midnight… I just can’t…”

Aizawa quickly pulled me into a hug, burying my face into his chest.

“Don’t say it, Yamada…” Aizawa stated. “Just tell me how the students are doing…”

Mic let out a heavy sigh.

“Well…” Mic trailed off. “Almost every student has either regained consciousness or gotten better after receiving medical attention… well except for Midoriya…”

“What?” Aizawa asked.

“Izuku is the only one who still hasn’t shown any sign of waking up.” I added.

Aizawa’s eyes widened in shock as he looked over at us with a puzzled expression.

“Don’t worry…” I sighed before getting up and walking over to the door. “Toshi-chan is with him now…”

“Where are you going, Nana-chan?” Mic asked.

“To see Shoto.” I responded before closing the door behind me.

I then slowly made my way towards Shoto’s cabin. When I reached there, I slid the door open. I noticed that the people in the room turned to look at me.

“Nana-san.” Yaoyorozu greeted me with a small smile.

“Nana!” Kirishima grinned at me

“Hey, guys.” I greeted them back, walking up to them. “Looks like you finally woke up, Shoto.”

“Yeah…” Shoto replied meekly in a raspy voice.

“His throat is burnt, so…” Mina stated.

“I see…” I nodded my head before taking my seat beside Shoto on the bed. “How’re you doing now, Shoto?”

“How’re you doing, Nana?” Shoto asked.

I stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh, looking away.

“What do you think, huh Shoto?” I muttered. “Touya was my friend… my fiancé… we were in love with each other… Eleven years ago, we all believed he passed away, but now all of a sudden he came back into our lives… Not as Touya, but as a murderous villain Dabi...”

Suddenly my eyes started to get all blurry. My breath hitched as I wept, tears starting to roll down my cheeks.

“Nana-san!” Yaoyorozu gasped, rushing to my side and pulling me into a hug. “Please calm down!”

“I…I-I’m not okay, Shoto!!” I sobbed out loudly, as Yaoyorozu tightened her grip around me, gently rubbing my back. “I’m not okay, you hear me?! This is not okay! Touya being Dabi is not okay! None of this is okay! I couldn’t save my lover from walking down the path of destruction! I failed to save him! When the League kidnapped me and Katsuki, I speculated that Dabi was Touya, but I wanted to believe that I was wrong! That it was all just a misunderstanding! But, no! It’s a despicable truth and now it hurts, Shoto! Dammit! I love Touya so much, it hurts!!”

Shoto remained completely silent as he stared at me in shock. He looked as if I broke his heart or something.

“Nana…” Mina mumbled sorrowfully.

“That kiss…” Shoji muttered. “It’s all over the news and internet now…”

“Those bloody reporters!” Kirishima growled in anger, clenching his fists. “Has nothing else better to do other than screwing up people’s lives!”

Suddenly the door slid open and we all looked up to see who it was, noticing that it was Fuyumi and Natsuo.

“Shoto…” Fuyumi called out.

“Pleasure to meet you!” Kirishima smiled at her.

“Todoroki’s older brother and sister!” Mina grinned. “His throat is burnt so he is still…”

I sensed someone else was standing there behind the older Todoroki siblings.

“Rei-san, you’re here as well?” I called.

Shoto’s breath hitched and his eyes went wide open.

“M-Mom…” Shoto gasped.

“Shoto.” Rei mumbled softly, stepping inside the room with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

“I think we should give them some space.” I stated, standing up from the bed.

“You’re right, Nana-san.” Yaoyorozu agreed.

I looked over to Rei and smiled at her.

“You guys take your time.” I said. “If you need anything, just call us.”

Rei flashed out a warm smile and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.

“You’re an amazing woman, Nana.” Rei commented. “Like Junko-chan and Nemuri-san… Just stay strong dear.”

I smiled again and returned her the hug.

“I will, Rei-san…” I responded.

With that we excused ourselves before walking out the room, giving the space and time the Todoroki family needed to talk to each other.

“Nana, if you don’t mind, can I ask you something?” Mina asked.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Whatever Dabi said in that video, were they all true?” she asked.

I sighed and nodded my head.

“Touya… He always wanted to become a hero… A greater hero than Enji-san and Toshi-chan.” I stated. “Enji-san had this aim to surpass Toshi-chan, but when he realized that he couldn’t do it, he planned on making a perfect weapon to reach his goals. And when I said weapon, I mean creating a perfect child. Touya was his eldest son, so he had high hopes for him as Touya inherited a greater fire quirk than Enji-san himself. However, Touya inherited Rei-san’s genes, meaning he can resist ice, not fire. For that whenever Touya used his flames, his skin got burnt. As a responsible father, Enji-san should’ve helped his son, but instead, he tossed Touya to the side and abandoned him.”

“How cruel.” Yaoyorozu commented.

“Touya worked his ass off to get Enji-san's acknowledgment and respect, but he got nothing.” I continued. “It was clear that Touya needed love and attention, especially from his father… but Enji-san as a father failed to give him that. Eleven years ago, when Touya was thirteen, he got burnt by his own flames at the peak of Sekoto hill and we all assumed that he passed away. But apparently, we were all wrong the entire time.”

“But I don’t get one thing.” Kirishima stated. “Why did Endeavor send a quirk marriage proposal of Dabi and you to your parents years ago? I mean, he engaged himself into a quirk marriage with Rei-san in order to create a prodigy to surpass All Might, but why you and Dabi? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the exact same thing.” Shoji added.

“Honestly, even I don’t know.” I sighed. “I was like 4-5 at that time, so I don’t remember too much. Maybe my parents knew, but I don’t.”

“Did anyone from our class know about your and Touya-san’s past relationship?” Yaoyorozu asked.

“Only Shoto, Katsuki, Izuku, and Iida knew about it.” I replied.

Then suddenly we noticed Shoto and his family come out of his room and make their way toward us.

“Is something wrong, Todoroki?” Kirishima asked Shoto.

“We’re going to meet our father now.” Shoto replied, before looking over at me. “Nana, come with us. We need to talk to him about Touya-Nii.”

“Okay.” I nodded my head as I looked at my friends. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Okay!” Mina grinned.

“See you, Nana-san.” Yaoyorozu smiled.

I bade my farewell to my friends before I headed off to visit Endeavor with the Todoroki family. When we reached our destination, Shoto opened up the door. I looked inside and noticed Endeavor bawling his eyes out. Seeing him crying, Shoto quickly shut the door close.

“He is crying…!” Shoto stated.

“Shotoooo!!” Endeavor yelled out, demanding him to come inside.

Shoto again opened the door and we all walked in.

“Dad… how convenient!” Fuyumi smiled. “We all just got here!”

“Are you guys unharmed?” Endeavor sniffled.

“Why are you crying?” Natsuo frowned at his father.

“Sorry… I’m truly sorry…” Endeavor wailed. “Sorry… it's too late… the regret and guilt for my crimes… it's weighing on me now! Now my heart is…”

“Your heart is what?” Rei asked, stepping inside the room. “Regrets, guilt…. everybody is carrying those feelings much more than you…”

“Rei, why are you here?!” Endeavor gasped.

“I came to talk about our family… and about Touya…” Rei responded.

“Rei… Are you okay?” Endeavor asked, worriedly.

“Okay?” Rei repeated. “No, I’m not. That’s why I’m here… You don’t get to claim you’re hurting more than anyone and you are now not the only one who refused to look at that child, Enji…”

“Enji-san.” I called, making everyone look at me as my burning gaze met the turquoise eyes of the Todoroki patriarch. “I want to know exactly what happened to Touya eleven years ago. I deserve an answer from you. I was 4 or 5 years old back then, so my memories are all hazy. And besides, you’re the one who got me involved in Touya’s life and the Todoroki family in the first place. So, don’t you dare call me an outsider and push me to the side cause I’ve all the right to ask you anything regarding Touya. I demand an answer, Enji Todoroki. What did you do to my Touya?”

Endeavor let out a heavy sigh and looked down at his lap.

Flashback

Years ago, a young Enji Todoroki met with Rei's family, the Himura Family, for the very first time. Rei’s family members expressed great joy and honor in being reached out to by the man who was said to be the next No. 1 hero. The person explained that the Himura Family was also considered a prestigious family, so it was only fitting that a man of his accomplishments would take a Himura woman as a wife.

Enji thought that even though Rei knew this marriage was a quirk marriage, she still agreed to it for her family's sake. As the two were getting to know each other, Enji learned that Rei had a liking for a certain blue flower. He described her as a woman much like ice herself, but she seemed so strong despite possibly melting away at the slightest touch.

Enji and Rei’s first son Touya Todoroki was born with a fire quirk that was even more powerful than Enji's Hellflame quirk. When Touya was five years old, Enji started to notice that a bit of Touya’s red hair was starting to turn white, but little Touya always laughed it off as nothing important while enthusiastically looking forward to learning his father’s ultimate move, which made Endeavor proud and happy.

Enji thought that while Touya didn't harbor his mother's ice quirk, his firepower was far stronger than his own. Despite not having the ability to overcome the downside of overheating, he still planned on raising Touya to be a hero. He still sought a child with Half-Cold Half-Hot and Rei wanted more children, believing they could encourage each other, which ultimately led to Fuyumi's birth. Sadly, she only inherited Rei's ice quirk and not his fire, but Enji was still happy either way because he felt that since Touya had more potential, he could place all his ambitions on him.

Even when his skin started to burn, Endeavor felt Touya could reach his eternal goal and that all of the darkness he bore inside his heart could have been destroyed by his son.

But then, unfortunately, it all started to change.

“I have been waiting for ages for you to have a day off so we could train together!!” a five-year-old Touya yelled stubbornly at his father. “You got a day off today, right? So you got to do quick training with me! Why are you saying you can't do it now?! Why would you change your mind all of a sudden, huh?!”

“I have told you several times already…” Enji sighed as he was getting ready to go to work. “I’m doing this for your own good…”

Touya simply glared at his father with displeasure while Enji looked away from his son as he didn’t know what to say to him.

“Quite the peculiar case…” a doctor stated to Enji and Rei, looking at the reports in his hands. “In regards to his quirk, your son has inherited your fire however his body is dominated by his mother's gene. To be precise he has developed a body that has an aptitude for the cold rather than a tolerance to fire. Well, this method of designing children… it's a taboo in this generation of quirks… So, I can’t advise it… It's better you quit now, Todororki-san…”

Enji looked down at his lap with a frown as his own words started to ring in his ears.

‘Touya, if it’s you… you can surpass All Might…’

And it only deepened his frown, still feeling that Touya could surpass All Might, whom he desperately wanted to catch up to.

~~~~~

“Fuyumi-chan…” Touya stated as he and his sister who was a year younger than him watched the news about All Might on TV. “So what if I get burned a bit, I can handle it! I am the one who understands my body best…”

“But I don’t like when you get hurt either, Touya-Nii…” a four-year-old Fuyumi responded worriedly while munching her snacks.

This made Touya throw a dirty glare at his sister before hopping down from the couch and walking away.

“What do you know anyway?!” Touya yelled. “Girls just don't understand!!”

“But I’m worried!!” Fuyumi responded.

“I already got it in my head that I got to surpass All Might!!” Touya stated in a firm tone with determination. “Dad is the one who ignited that fire under me!!”

~~~~~

“But that’s too much!” Rei cried out. “It's just cruel! Especially now that Touya knows what you are hoping to achieve through the children!”

“No matter how much I tried telling him… he shows up with new burns every day.” Enji responded as he sat in front of the TV, watching the news about All Might saving 62 towns in a single day. “He has inherited my foolishness as well… If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice… Since he will never be the one to surpass… Touya can’t surpass All Might…”

Rei simply stood there in front of her husband with absolute shock and horror after hearing those despicable words which came from him while noticing a dark furious look on his face.

This ultimately led to Natsuo's conception, which made Touya start falling into more despair because he clearly understood that he was rejected, and was considered a failure in his father’s eyes while Enji's desire and aggression to surpass All Might continued to grow even more day by day. Eventually, Shoto, Enji’s perfect masterpiece, was born three years later after Natsuo’s birth, but an eight-year-old Touya refused to accept that his youngest brother would be the one to surpass All Might, not him. So, he continued to train in a forest with his fire, telling himself that his father had to look at him because of how powerful his flames already were.

“No dad…” little Touya mumbled to himself, panting while training hard to improve his flames at the peak of Sekoto hill. “I can do it too! I can surpass All Might! See look how strong my flames are already… Look at me…!!”

But things got even worse when Touya reached home that evening.

“Stop it!” Enji scolded Touya, holding his shoulders. “Why don’t you understand?! You're getting this burnt and you still don't realize?! Touya, you need to look elsewhere! Look beyond all this! Play with your siblings! Make friends in school! There is a whole other world besides the hero stuff… I know you understand that! Eventually, you'll forget all about it and this will be a distant memory soon.”

“B-But everyone at school says they are going to be heroes.” Touya responded, tears rolling down his cheeks while his whole body was trembling. “I can’t understand that... Because I have got you for a father…”

“We have to cool him down!” Rei cried out in worry.

“You lit this fire in me, Dad and it’s not going out!” Touya added as flames started to unleash from different parts of his body while he glared up at his father with hatred. “I just can't get it out of my head! I can’t just pretend it’s not there! Look at me, Endeavor! Look at me!!”

And with that, little Touya quickly turned around to launch an attack on his newborn baby brother, Shoto Todoroki who was being carried into his mother’s arms. A seven-year-old Fuyumi quickly pushed a three-year-old Natsuo out of the way, while Rei screamed out to Enji to stop Touya. And before any serious damage could occur, Enji quickly stepped in and held Touya back.

Later that night, when everything went back to somewhat normal, Enji went to his bedroom to talk to Rei.

“After the incident, Shoto's siblings are banned from interacting with him.” Enji ordered Rei who was sitting beside a sleeping Shoto. “I have to work, so I can’t keep looking after him, which is why I have hired someone else… Keep your eye on Touya…”

“Touya just wants you to look at him, to notice him…” Rei responded in a vacant tone, feeling completely dead inside after what happened a few hours ago. “He just wants your acknowledgment. That’s all.”

“I can’t show him anything but the world of a hero…” Enji commented with a sigh before he started to walk away.

“Hero?” Rei mocked as she looked up at her husband with a glare, her voice was filled with resentment and disappointment. “Some hero you are… running away…”

But Enji simply stood there with no words coming out of his mouth as he glared back at his wife.

~~~~~

Four years had passed since that incident. Now Touya was twelve, Fuyumi was eleven, Natsuo was seven and Shoto was four. That year, Enji’s high school friends, Daisuke Osaki and Junko Saotome sent invitations to him and some of their friends for a party which was held at the Osaki mansion. And that was the first time Enji got the opportunity to meet Daisuke and Junko’s only child and daughter, Nana Osaki. Nana was the as same age as Shoto, meaning she was eight years younger than Touya.

"Your daughter is so polite and well-mannered, Daisuke. I heard she has got your quirk." Enji stated as he looked over to the four years old Nana in front of him.

"Thanks, Enji. And yeah, she has got Ghoul quirk like me.” Daisuke chuckled, patting his daughter’s head.

"I see… Well, I also brought two of my kids with me. Let me introduce them to you all. Kids! Come here!" Endeavor called out, as Touya and Fuyumi walked in and stood by his side. "This is Touya, my eldest son. And this is Fuyumi, my second child and my only daughter.”

“Nana.” Daisuke smiled down at his daughter. “Go and play with Touya and Fuyumi, okay?”

“Okay!” Nana giggled before she skipped toward the older kids.

Enji and Daisuke went inside the house while the three kids stayed back in the garden of the Osaki household. Touya and Fuyumi also walked toward Nana with a smile.

"Hello! My name is Touya. And this is my sister, Fuyumi. What's your name?" Touya smiled at the little girl.

"My name is Nana, Nana Osaki..." Nana grinned at him. “Hey, can you show me your quirk, Touya-kun?”

“H-Huh?” Touya stuttered, taken back by her sudden question.

“I want to see what your quirk is! I heard it’s really cool!” Nana said with a smile.

He bit his bottom lip as he didn’t know what to do. But for some reason, the way Nana was looking at him made it impossible for him to say no to her. He rolled up his sleeves before igniting his palm, making Nana’s eyes widen in amazement.

“The color of your fire is bluish! It’s so pretty! I wish I had a pretty quirk like you…" she beamed, staring deeply into the captivating red-bluish flames the boy held in his hand.

That comment caught Touya completely off guard.

Pretty wasn’t the exact word to describe his quirk as this quirk of his was slowly destroying him, bit by bit.

"Uh, thanks, I guess." he said dumbly, slightly blushing.

“Is that a blush I see, Touya-Nii?” Fuyumi smirked at her older brother.

“Shut up, Fuyumi.” Touya grumbled, throwing a dirty glare at his sister.

"I bet you're gonna become a pro someday, Touya-kun." Nana beamed.

And with that, Touya became a blushing mess as if his whole body was on fire. When his own father rejected him, tossed him to the side, and considered him a failure, this four-year-old little girl who he just met told him those exact words he wanted to hear from his father for so long; that he had the potential of becoming a pro hero.

Touya Todoroki still had hope.

~~~~~

A year had passed since Nana and Touya first met. And as time went by Nana and Touya grew super close and also started spending more time with each other. Now Nana was only five while Touya was thirteen years old. And that was the time when Enji sent a quirk marriage proposal of the two kids to Daisuke and Junko.

“I can’t believe this, Enji.” Daisuke glared at the No. 2 hero. “Is this why you called me to meet you all the way to your agency?! Seriously?! A quirk marriage?!”

“Daisuke, calm down.” Enji sighed. “Please listen to me… I’m doing this for Touya.”

“For Touya?” Daisuke raised an eyebrow before realization hit him and he flashed a mocking smirk at his friend. “Oh, I get it now… Now I get it why you were so interested to know what my daughter’s quirk was when you first met her and looked really happy when I said that she got my quirk…”

“Daisuke-“

“You’re after my daughter’s Ghoul quirk, aren’t you?” Daisuke glared at Enji. “Ghoul quirk has an extremely powerful regenerative and healing ability. As Touya’s own quirk hurts him, so you want your son and Nana to have a child in the future in order to fulfill your dream.”

“Not my dream, Daisuke… It’s Touya’s dream.” Enji responded. “He always wanted to become a hero, but as his own quirk burns him, I’m just trying to figure out a way to fulfill his passion and dream.”

“By turning him into a monster and toxic human being like you?!” Daisuke yelled, shooting up from his seat.

“Daisuke, tune down your voice!” Enji yelled back. “Or else-“

“Or else what, huh?!” Daisuke mocked. “You’ve really turned into a shitty person, you know that Enji!! At first, in order to surpass Toshinori, you married Rei and had kids and then used those kids of yours as weapons! To you, only Shoto is important while Touya and the others are just a waste of space! You showed Touya the dreams of surpassing Toshinori and then stripped it away from the poor child! Now you’re trying to fill his head with those same disgusting toxic thoughts and goals of yours! Are you crazy, Enji?! And I’m not a petty person like you! Nana’s my only child and her happiness means everything to me! Besides, I’ve my own dignity and pride! Do you really think I, the Daisuke Osaki, will sell away my only loving daughter to you like how the Himuras sold off Rei to you years ago, huh?!”

“Daisuke!!” Enji roared out.

“What?! Did I hit the nerve?!” Daisuke smirked. “Good! Cause what I said just now is all true and you know it, Enji!!”

With that Todoroki male went silent and hung his head in shame. Daisuke let out a sigh, running a hand through his raven locks.

“I personally don’t have anything against you and Touya, Enji.” Daisuke stated in a calming tone. “Moreover, I like your kid. Touya is a really good boy with limitless talent and potential. I won’t mind if Touya and Nana date each other in the future. Rather I would be really happy and glad if they do. Touya’s simply just unlucky to have someone like you as a father. People have kids cause they want to, whereas you had them to fulfill your stupid dream. You know Enji, you don’t know what is meant to be a father… how to be a father. If you did, you won’t have tried to handle Touya’s situation like this. You already have four kids, but you’ve no sense of responsibility of an ideal father. I mean who treats their kids like this. I pity your children, you know. It really sucks for them to have you as a parent... Mend your ways, Enji... before it's too late...”

Daisuke turned around and started to walk away.

“I’ll accept the proposal, Enji.” Daisuke continued, making Enji look up at him with surprise. “If and only if Touya and Nana ever want this… If they ever fall in love… if they ever want to start a family of their own purely based on their love… then and only then I’ll accept your proposal… Not to fulfill you and your son’s dreams, but for the sake of Nana and Touya’s happiness…”

Daisuke stopped in front of the door and turned to look back at Enji one last time with a harsh glare.

“Next time you bring up the proposal… I expect it to be a simple marriage proposal… not a quirk marriage proposal, Enji Todoroki…” Daisuke stated in a dark tone.

And with that Daisuke Osaki walked out of the room before slamming the door shut behind him.

But that next time never came because three months later, Daisuke Osaki and Junko Saotome were killed in a villain’s attack at I-Island where they went to attend an important conference held by scientists from all over the world that year.

~~~~~

“Hey Touya-Nii, let’s play!” a twelve-year-old Fuyumi called out with a ball in her hands.

“Yeah, let’s go, Touya-Nii!” an eight-year Natsuo called as well.

Touya looked up from his computer screen and gazed at his younger siblings.

“Oh, okay.” Touya replied.

While Touya, Natsuo, and Fuyumi played soccer in the backyard, a five-year-old Shoto simply watched his older siblings from the balcony with a sorrowful look, wishing to be able to play with them. Enji suddenly came in and pulled Shoto away from there.

“Don’t look at them, Shoto.” Enji stated. “You live in a different world from them.”

“Just once okay?” Shoto cried out. “I want to play with them just once! Please!”

“No. it's time to train your output capacity.” Enji responded coldly.

As Enji and Shoto passed by, Touya simply looked up from the yard with a glare, eyes filled with nothing but jealousy. Later that night, when Touya and Natsuo went to bed, the older Todoroki brother started to vent to his younger brother about Enji.

“I mean that one time was my fault! Little Shoto did not do anything wrong…” Touya stated. “But Dad is to blame too! He doesn't even look at us! We are failures to him. We are his failed creations. Is that what modern heroes are all about? Making all these kids they don't even need? Deciding their sons are useless and ditching them?”

A sleepy Natsuo turned to look at his older brother with a bit of annoyance.

“Why can’t you rant to Nee-chan about this stuff once in a while?” Natsuo mumbled drowsily. “Or rant to that girlfriend of yours? What’s her name again? Kana… or Hana something?”

Touya gasped, shocked to hear those words coming from his brother's mouth.

“Are you going to ignore me too, Natsu-kun?!” Touya cried, tears rolling down his cheeks, bruised by his brother’s words. “You’re telling me to buzz off too?! Even you, Natsu-kun?! Don't do this to me! I’m talking to you because only you can understand me besides Nana-chan!! You know that the girls in this household can't understand!!”

But Natsuo didn’t reply back as he fell fast asleep again.

~~~~~

“Wait, you’re trying on going to the hill again?!” Rei asked, trying to stop Touya from walking out of the house. “Why don't you play with your friends?!”

“I don’t need any friends!” Touya responded. “We are in different worlds!”

“Touya, do you even want to be a hero?” Rei asked softly. “As your mother, it looks to me like you are suffocating because of who your father is and you are suffering for it… So obsessed with the father… Touya, the world is such a large place and you can do anything. Look at everything else around you, not just your father! Find the person you really want to be in this world.”

“What the hell do you know, Mom?!” Touya glared at Rei. “Where did you get that tidbit? Some self-help book?! You think Dad is the only person that got me going?! Your family was poor so they sold you away. You had no choice and you had no say in the matter. Isn’t that why I was born in the first place?! You have a part in this too… you are guilty too, Mom!!”

Rei was taken aback by her son’s words.

“T-Touya-“

“And don’t think I don’t know what Dad wants from Nana-chan as well!” Touya added. “I know for what and why Dad used to pester Uncle Daisuke all the time. Just let you know… I’m not like Dad! I’ll never marry Nana-chan and have babies with her to fulfill my dreams like how Dad is doing! This is my dream and I’ll try to accomplish it with my own capability! I’ll never use Nana-chan and destroy her life how Dad is destroying ours! I love Nana-chan too much to do such sort of things to her!”

Touya then turned around and quickly walked out of the house. He made his way to the Sekoto hill where he began his secret training session. For the past few months, thirteen years old Touya’s small body started to noticeably grow and develop and that was when his fire changed color from red to blue.

“So that’s it!” Touya said happily, looking around at his own blue flames. “It's because of my body's composition! The fire is directly connected to my intense emotions! I’m pretty awesome if I do say so myself. If I can do this then dad will definitely be surprised too!”

Then he noticed that tears started to roll down his cheeks.

“But dang…” Touya chuckled. “When I get all excited… for some reason I end up crying…”

After his training was over, he quickly made his way to meet Nana at the neighborhood park.

“Does it hurt now?” she asked in a soft voice after she finished giving him medical attention.

“Not anymore.” Touya muttered in response. “Thank you, Nana-chan.”

“You should stop this, Touya-kun.” Nana frowned, her bottom lip quivered. “You’re simply hurting yourself.”

“No, I can’t, Nana-chan.” Touya shook his head, determination on his face. “I’ve to show my old man that I’m capable of becoming a hero.”

“But you’re pushing yourself too hard, Touya-kun!” Nana exclaimed as tears started to roll down her cheeks. “Can’t you see?! It’ll kill you one day! I don’t get it! Why is Enji-san being like this?! It’s literally abuse! So much so, that your physical appearance has started to change!”

Touya’s eye widened at Nana’s sudden outburst and he quickly wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her close.

“I’m scared, Touya-kun.” Nana sniffled, burying her face into his chest. “I’m scared that one day I’ll lose you, like how I lost my parents.”

Touya’s turquoise eyes softened as he looked at her. He gently buried his face into her raven locks as he tightened his grip around her.

“You wouldn’t lose me, Nana-chan.” He mumbled softly.

“Touya-kun…” Nana whispered as she rested her face on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Nana and Touya often had their moments where they would simply just hold each other closely in their arms and kiss their foreheads or their cheeks. Most kids both of their ages believed that girls were annoying and boys were gross, but Touya and Nana never cared about those rumors. They were quite different from everyone else.

"How was the school for you, Touya-kun?" Nana asked.

She looked at him gently as her eyes softened while she felt more relaxed. Touya averted his eyes.

"It was fine I guess..." Touya replied, melancholy filling in his tone. "But coming back home wasn't any better..."

The tone of his voice was filled with melancholy and venom as he looked down at his arms and narrowed his eyes. As time went on, Touya’s life was becoming a living hell as he kept on trying to get his father’s attention, but failed miserably every single time. Sometimes he felt like he would go completely insane whenever he was in his own home around with his own family members. To him, his home was hell. But those feelings immediately disappeared once he came to visit Nana. Nana was Touya's savior, his sanity. And even if she couldn't save him from his awful life, she was the light of his life, literally.

Nana nodded her head as she looked at him, not wanting to pressure him to talk about it anymore. His eyes softened as he looked at her with a gentle smile while throwing his negative emotions out of the window.

"But, I'm here with you now!” he grinned. “And my day is a million times better!”

Nana’s beamed up in joy as she smiled brightly at him while her eyes softened even more. And this look of Nana was absolutely breathtaking in Touya’s opinion.

"I'm glad that I can make you feel better, Touya-kun!" she giggled, hugging him once again.

Later that night, Touya happily went to his father with a bright grin on his face.

“Dad, during the holiday break coming up… come to the Sekoto hill!” Touya stated.

Enji narrowed his eyes at his son before he grabbed him and pulled up his shirt to find bandages wrapped around his new burnt chest.

“Damn it, again?!” Enji growled. “You're still!!”

“No, wait!” Touya quickly spoke up, interrupting his father. “What I can do now is really cool! You have to come and see! I think Shoto has got some serious competition! I might be as awesome as Shoto sooner or later! But I’m not sure if it’s enough against All Might yet though! Maybe I will eventually become better than All Might someday if I work harder! It’s something you have to see, Dad!”

Tears rolled down Touya’s cheeks uncontrollably as he started to pull his white hair.

“Then you will give me some respect, Dad!!” he cried. “You will be glad you created me! I just know it! You will realize I wasn’t a mistake!!”

Enji didn’t respond to his son as he stomped off to his room and when he went reached there, he started to show his aggression to his wife.

“Why didn’t you stop him Rei!!” Enji roared in fury. “You were supposed to watch over him!! Dammit!! That’s all I asked you to do!!”

“Don’t bully mommy!” five-year-old Shoto cried, trying to protect his mother. “Stop it! Don't be mean to her!!”

“Get out, Shoto!” Enji yelled, pushing his youngest son away. “It's none of your business!!”

Rei looked up to her husband with tearful frightened eyes.

“I can’t stop him…” she responded back meekly in a shaky voice and upon hearing that, Enji snapped even more before he grabbed Rei by the collar of her shirt and started to yell in her face.

"You'd better! I ain't keeping an eye on him!" he roared out again, showing more of his violent side towards her.

~~~~~

For Touya, the night was always dark, cold, and claustrophobic where demons howled in his head while begging for him; demons who didn’t want him to get a peaceful sleep.

For that he often had nightmares. To him, a nightmare was a horse that would carry him home after he had explored the dark. They were the demons of dreams, came to educate him if he was brave enough to look into these dark recesses of the brain. So there were countless times when he would spend such sleepless nights.

And on those nights he would always find himself running away from his home and his feet always took him to only one place and that one being the Osaki household where he would sit on the rooftop with Nana and watch the moon shower its platinum-gold beam onto the Musutafu City. Unlike hell, the place he called home, Touya felt like a free bird whenever he came over to the Osaki household especially to meet and spend time with Nana.

"Can’t sleep again, huh Touya-kun?" Nana asked as she took a seat beside him on the rooftop of her household.

“Yeah…” He responded softly.

"Well that makes the two of us, I guess." She giggled.

"Dad is coming over to the Sekoto hill today." he stated.

"You're gonna show him your new blue flames right?" Nana beamed. "I bet he's gonna be so happy and proud!"

"I hope so." Touya chuckled in response.

Touya smiled at her before looking back at the moon in the sky. In the monochrome musings, the moon was a deep silver ballerina, turning pirouettes with perfect form. The moon also looked like the mother of the sky who watched over every beating heart, steady and true. At that moment Touya found the moon really beautiful and maybe it was because of Nana. Whenever Nana was around him, he found everything beautiful, everything positive.

The night didn’t feel like forever anymore now that Touya was with Nana. They talked and laughed as if there was no tomorrow. Time passed on and now the sun slowly started to rise from its slumber.

“Hey, Touya-kun, let’s go to the park right now.” Nana spoke up.

“Right now?” he raised an eyebrow.

Nana smiled and nodded her head before standing up and reaching out her hand to him. Touya without any hesitation grabbed her hand and Nana activated her Gravity Manipulation quirk to alter their gravities and they both flew up in the air before heading to their destination.

As they walked together in the park while holding hands, Touya realized that he had known Nana for almost more than a year now and whenever they were together Touya felt as if he was in a different world, a world full of sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns. He felt alive and happy. But sometimes he felt that his happiness might not live long, that one day the world would crash and go against them.

"What's wrong?" Nana asked.

Touya looked down at her innocent cute face and gently smiled at her. Right now just seeing her face was enough for him. Nothing mattered to him as long as she was there beside him, alive and healthy.

“I was wondering if we can still share these exact same moments if we meet in another lifetime or dimension…” Touya responded softly.

Nana blinked at him in confusion before letting out a giggle.

“You’re so silly, Touya-kun!” Nana said as she pulled his arms. “Come on! Let’s race over there!”

As they ran while holding onto each other’s hands, Touya again felt as if his whole body was on fire. The power of Nana’s flames had to be really powerful and strong for making him feel this way every single time. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and trickled through his veins when Nana’s soft giggles reached into his ears. Touya was hopelessly in love with Nana and this love was inevitable.

“Nana-chan.” Touya called out as the said girl looked up at him. “I’ve something to tell you.”

“What is it, Touya-kun?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

Touya took a deep breath and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Nana-chan... I love you.” he confessed.

“Huh?” she mumbled as her eyes went wide in surprise.

After hearing his confession, Nana’s face went completely red; so red that it could put a tomato to shame.

“I’m in love with you, Nana Osaki.” Touya repeated. “You may not understand what it means to be in love with someone because you're still too young. But always remember… I love you and I always will love you, Nana-chan...”

Nana softened her gaze and smiled softly at the Todoroki boy as she slowly reached out and held his bigger hands in her smaller ones.

“I love you too, Touya-kun...”

Later that day, Touya quickly went to the peak of the Sekoto hill and waited for his father’s arrival. He waited, waited, and waited, but his father never showed up. And this hurt Touya like hell; completely broke his heart into millions of pieces.

“He didn’t show up!” Touya wailed, bawling his eyes out uncontrollably while rubbing his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. “Quit crying already! Stupid tears… Dammit… Dad…”

Then suddenly Touya realized that his body started to heat up and his own blue flames then unleashed from different parts of his body which suddenly went out of control.

“What?!” Touya cried out, panicking in shock and horror as he didn’t know what to do. “It's hot!! They won’t stop!! My flames!!!”

Touya started to scream out in pain and agony, desperately trying to search for help, but there was no one else with him at that moment. He was completely alone. Touya even tried to control his own flames but failed because the only thing that Enji ever taught him was how to turn up the heat. This then led to Touya’s slowly engulfing the entirety of himself and the mountains in flames and when Enji did finally reach there to save his son, he found nothing but ashes everywhere only.

Flashback ended

“And then you didn’t go…” Rei mumbled.

“It would have just fanned the flames…” Enji responded. “No, that's not it… the truth is I had no idea what to say to him… I didn’t know how to talk to him…”

“Neither did I…” Rei added.

“After everything… after killing Touya… I couldn’t let myself take a step back and all I could do was obsess over Shoto… At the expense of everything else…” Enji continued.

"Eventually, I couldn’t stand the sight of you and it got so bad that I even started seeing hints of you in the children’s faces. After my incident with Shoto, I was put in isolation at the facility. And then... When I heard how Touya met his end, my heart shattered, my mind snapped..." Rei stated.

“I know our family was broken but I was too scared to interfere… all I could do was to try to fix things just to keep up appearances. I was all talk and nothing else.” Fuyumi spoke up.

“It was you who started all of this.” Natsuo stated. “You are the root cause but… Maybe if I had just slugged you in the face and made you have a few serious talks with Touya-Nii… Or maybe if I had just made myself face Touya-Nii instead and knocked some sense into him… maybe Dabi wouldn't have been born. He could have even treated Shoto to some cold soba…”

“The responsibility for this doesn’t just fall onto you… this issue is all of ours to bear.” Rei stated firmly. “Even if our hearts are scattered, we will get up and stand tall. You have no choice but to fight Dabi.”

“Are you really, Rei?” Enji asked in shock. “Are you really the woman I married?”

“One of our children… one who has suffered much more than us… despite having every right to resent me he has started calling me mom again.” Rei continued, looking over to Shoto. “He has been making friends at UA and now he is the one saving us. Shoto is our family’s hero…”

Shoto coughed a bit before speaking up.

“It’s all because of Nana.” Shoto muttered. “She was the one who saved me from walking down the path of darkness. She was the one who told me to reconnect with Mom again. It’s all thanks to her. And she’s the only one who can bring Touya-Nii back. Maybe we all can stop him, but if anyone can actually bring him back, then that’s Nana. Cause back on the battlefield, Touya-Nii clearly showcased through his actions that the only person he still loves and cares about is Nana.”

Shoto then turned to look at me.

“We need your help, Nana.” Shoto stated. “Only you can bring him back to our family.”

“You don’t need to say that, Shoto.” I responded with a small frown. “I would still go after Touya even if you tell me not to. Touya is important to me, as much as he’s important to you all. I love him dearly and I can’t take the chance of letting him go again… even if it means sacrificing my own life.”

I then looked at Enji-san and frowned at him.

“You messed up, old man. Big time.” I stated in a firm tone. “You know a part of me hates you and will never forgive you for what you did to Touya. You were really a shitty dude and an extremely horrible father back then. Tossing Touya away to the side and considering him as a failure or more specifically your 'failed creation' or 'failed experiment', when he clearly needed your love, care, support, attention, respect, and acknowledgment was a super shitty and terrible move as a father, Enji-san. Maybe you didn’t torture Touya physically as you did to Shoto, but you mentally and emotionally abused him. And abuse is abuse; it doesn't matter if it's physical, mental, or emotional. There isn't one that's worse than the other. Just because you didn't hit Touya physically, doesn't mean you weren't abusive. You were still an abusive father and Touya was mentally and emotionally abused by you. People have kids cause they want to have kids, cause they want to start a family of their own. Whereas, you weren't having kids, to begin with. You were creating a perfect 'weapon' to surpass Toshi-chan. And Touya was a smart child. He knew that from the very beginning. Even as a kid, he knew what was going on around him... but still after all that, he just wanted to impress you... wanted to make you feel proud... wanted your love and attention. He was even willing to destroy himself if that's what it takes to get your acknowledgment. But you simply rejected him, tossed him away like trash, and then completely ignored him. Because to you, Touya was a 'failed product', a waste of space. And not just only Touya, but also Natsuo-san and Fuyumi-san were considered 'failed creations' in your eyes. To you, Shoto was everything as he was the one to surpass Toshi-chan and for that, you gave all your time and energy to your youngest child while you simply ignored the older ones. That's not how a responsible father should act, old man. Besides, you can't just fill a kid's head with all these big dreams of becoming a great hero and then abandon him. Touya believed that this was his destiny, his birthright, his reason for living, and then you take it away from him just like that? Even if you wanted what's best for Touya, you went about it all wrong. You don't just give your kid a dream and then take it away from him and expect him to move on. You and Rei-san didn't even try to help him move on from his ambition to become a hero. You both just discarded him, expecting him to just accept his fate and move on. Touya clearly needed support, love, and understanding but got none of that. He obsessed over what was promised to him, the expectations placed on him by society, and his father's approval. I'm not saying that it justifies Touya's choices of actions in recent times, but he's still the victim here. He might be a monster, but you all turned him into that monster. And you're saying that you didn't go to the Sekoto peak even when Touya asked you so many times, cause you didn't know what to say to him. Well, let me tell you one thing, old man... You still should have gone there for your son cause that's what responsible fathers do. As a father you failed miserably to raise your kid properly, but if you really want to fix your past mistakes… if you really want to redeem yourself… then stop crying like a little pussy, you old man… Get your ass out there, save your son and bring him back…”

Shoto stared at me for a moment before looking away.

“I see... Nana’s right…” Shoto sighed, before looking back at his father, reaching out his hand to him. “Before coming here, I talked to Mom. I didn’t think you would be able to fight anymore and that I would have to do it myself… but that doesn't seem to be the case… when you're done crying, get up and we’ll all go stop Touya-Nii together and bring him back home…”

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