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purpleyoonn · 2 years ago

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baby (you complete us) 8

C H A P T E R E I G H T

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: lots of insecurities, mc practically snaps, lots of tension, angry/protective yoongi, possessive bangtan, mc believes they're unworthy, discussion of disabilities,

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

masterlist // chapter 7 // chapter 9

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Previously on baby (you complete us):

“Alright then. Are you ready to go and meet your soulmates?” Songun claps his hands together before gesturing you towards the waiting car parked on the street. You stare at it warily, but you nod your head anyways, pushing and grasping for the feelings the boys have already made you feel, hoping they chase away any of the doubt floating through your head.

“Yes.”

You were right when you thought that the HYBE building might be bigger on the inside. It was like going inside Newt Scamander’s suitcase, a complete never-ending maze of rooms and corridors. You knew for sure that if you didn’t have someone to follow, you would become trapped within as a consequence of getting lost.

It had taken only five minutes for Songun to bring you to the building, using his security badge to gain entrance to the staff/artist underground parking structure. However, he had you use your badge, the one the boys sent over to your home, to gain access to the building. He wanted to be sure it worked, that way you would have no trouble with any of the other doors inside.

The second you got inside, you could feel your hands becoming clammy, knees starting to feel weak as Songun helped guide you to the front desk, wanting the woman at the desk to become familiar with you and know who you were.

“Hello, how can I help you.” The woman, her name tag reading Arin, smiled up at you, putting you a little at ease. However, you were still nervous to you quite literally handed her your pass. You couldn’t form any words and hoped your badge would suffice.

“Oh, um.” Arin shuffled out, looking at you with a nervous smile before looking down at the badge and seeing the words printed across the front. Then her smile turned into a different kind of nervous, knowing if she made one wrong move she could be fired.

“Ah, I see. Welcome Mrs. Kim. I hope that you find everything to your liking.” You blinked at being called Mrs. Kim again, wondering what that is about when your name is clearly printed on the badge.

You were also curious to why she seemed so nervous around you now. You weren’t famous or rich or anything of the nearest sort. She acted like you were about to take her job from her and blacklist her. Like you had power over her. You didn’t know if you liked it or not. It made you a little uncomfortable to be honest.

“Can you alert the boys that we are here please. I will lead her up right now.” Songun leaned over the desk, whispering in her ear for a couple of seconds before he pulls away. Arin nods and reaches for her phone. Before you could say anything, Songun hands you your badge back and leads you to the elevators.

“The badge works a bit like the hotel, you just place the badge over the security strip.” You nod your head at his words, storing the information in your head. You hold your badge up to the strip on the wall and the elevator opens within a second, making your eyes widen.

“Now, with your badge, you have full access to any of the rooms your soulmates do, including any practice rooms or studios.” Songun begins to describe the uses of your badge as he presses the floor to the 15th floor.

Ever since the HYBE Insight exhibit closed while the boys were serving their military enlistments, the public has been unable to access any of the floors of the HYBE building. You remember seeing some pictures from other fans of the Insight exhibit and thought it looked amazing.

You were even more amazed when the elevator doors opened to the 15th floor, a large portrait of the boys on the opposite wall. It was a picture of the first group photo the boys posted to Twitter when they all came back from serving their military enlistment. You remember how sad army was when the boys enlisted at the same time, but the soulmate laws required it so soul pain wasn’t experienced from distance or separation.

Your hands were now extremely clammy, a little shake to them as you tried to clench your fingers into a fist. You were beyond nervous, even a little scared to see them now that you were only a mere couple of feet from them. You stopped in your step, shoulders hunched as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” Songun had stopped when he realized you weren’t next to him any longer. He turned to see you a couple of feet behind him. He moved back over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t know if I can do this. What if they’ve changed their mind? What if they don’t want to see me anymore?” You began to ramble, your insecurities coming into play as they spun the thoughts moving in your head.

“Miss Y/n, I can’t tell you things are going to be easy or simple when you walk through those doors. But I can say that those boys, since finding out about you, have done nothing but worry that you won’t give them a chance. They are just as nervous and scared about this meeting as you are. I can’t tell you what to do, but I can say that you all need this. To see each other and get all of your feelings out on the floor.” Songun leaned down in front of you, so you could see his face as you looked at the floor. You listened to his words, the way he talked to you so gently that he reminded you of your own father.

“If you don’t want to do this, I can give them some excuse and take you back to your hotel room.” Songun ended with a shrug, making you laugh a little. You knew he was trying to make you feel better, feel at ease and you couldn’t thank him more for it. But he was right. You needed to see them, needed to end the ten plus years of mental torment you’ve endured. You needed to talk to them and move forward.

“Okay. I’m ready.” You nodded your head, in a way reassuring yourself that you were actually ready for this. If Songun could tell that you were talking to yourself more than to him, he never reacted. He just nodded at your words and held your shoulder the rest of the walk, giving you the reassurance you needed to walk through the door.

Songun knocked on the door, not even a second later moving out of the way as the door opened to Sejin, who you know as one of the main managers for the boys. He smiled as he noticed you, making a welcome gesture as he opened the door wider for you to enter.

“The boys are waiting for you inside, Y/n.” His smile while he meant to be nice and welcoming, did little to help you feel comfortable. You turned your head to look back at Songun, only to see him nodding his head at you again, telling you that everything would be okay.

You turned back around, clenching your fists again before nodding and walking into the room. You tried to steel yourself, to tell yourself that you were okay. You clenched your fists so hard you could feel one of your fingers pop and shift. You opened your fist and began to try and pop your finger back in when you noticed the boys, all moving to stand from where they were seated on the couches.

You paused in your step, seeing your soulmates up close and personal was different than seeing them on your screen or texting them on your phone. Seeing them a couple of feet in front of you made this all too real. You could vaguely hear Jungkook say “she’s finally here.”

It was awkward for a couple of long seconds, you just staring at them as they did the same to you, as if taking you in. You were just making sure they were real, that this was really happening.

“Uhm, hi.” You waved your hand a little awkwardly, your mind screaming at you to break the tension in the room. You took a step backward, unsure if you should leave or not, which seems to knock everyone out of their trance.

“Hello. Please, come sit.” Namjoon being the ever diplomatic and caring leader is the first to speak, his smile bright and dimpled just like you had seen many times on camera. You always loved his smile; how warm it was and how it seemed to calm everyone down.

Namjoon had his hand out, whether it was a gesture for you to sit, or a hopeful attempt to bring you closer, you would never know. You nodded your head at his words and moved to the couch opposite of where they were sitting.

Your body was tense, uncomfortable in a new room and a new situation. You felt unprepared, like the time you were in the principal’s office and you were waiting under your principal’s watchful eye as you waited for your parents to arrive. You remember you were going to be suspended for hitting someone who had tried to make fun of your elder sister. She was in a car accident when you were ten and had lost half of her leg, making her wear a prosthetic leg that went up to her knee.

You had your hands clenched together, resting on top of your thighs as your back was rim rod straight. It wasn’t comfortable, but you were too nervous to care. However, you did lean slightly to the right, your hip still giving you some discomfort.

“We are sorry again that you’ve had to uproot your life to come here, but we are grateful for the chance you are giving us.” Namjoon starts the conversation off, right as Sejin leaves the room. Your eyes darted to the door and back, now even more nervous and intimidated by what’s going on.

“We know that the circumstances are not ideal,” You sigh at that, making Namjoon pause in his obviously prepared speech. “but we regret the time not knowing you.”

You cut him off this time, not needing some rehearsed words intended to calm you down. You tried to understand, tried to tell yourself that he was just nervous and needed his script to feel reassured but you couldn’t help but feel the disconnection, like you were just a simple worker and not his soulmate.

“Please, Namjoon. I would really appreciate it if you could actually talk to me instead of giving me your obviously prepared speech. I’m not some employee or businessman that you need to be prepared for.” You take a deep breathe, feeling that you were getting worked up again.

Jin and Jimin glance at each other while Yoongi smirks, hiding behind his ever-growing locks. He hates having to cut his hair short for his military service, and he hated having to be semi-separated from his soulmates, doing service work instead of enlistment. However, he liked how brave you were being in front of his younger mate, that you weren’t afraid to put him in his place despite the obvious power struggle in the room.

“I am not fragile despite my disability. I can handle having uncomfortable conversations. I was fully prepared to give up on my soulmark. I thought that maybe, my bracelet had to be defective. I mean, why in the world would fate give someone like me seven soulmates?” You scoffed at your own words, the idea that fate had that you still questioned, even now.

“Yes, I waited ten years for you, hoping and praying to fate that you would get your bracelets and see my messages. See that I wanted you. And I can’t blame you. I can’t blame you for not getting one. I can’t blame you for not knowing you were missing a soulmate.” You had noticed that some of the men were crying at this point, feeling the emotions that you put into your words. Jimin and Jungkook especially were sniffling, eyes red as tears marked their cheeks.

“At one point, I even thought that you had all already found each other and didn’t need me. And it seems I was right. You have been together for so long; I would only be getting in the way. I would be a burden you felt you needed to keep around in order to keep me from dying of soul rejection.” You didn’t mean to blurt that out, but your mouth was moving quicker than your brain and your feelings long buried were getting in the way.

“Don’t say that!” Jungkook yelled out, startling everyone in the room and making you jump in shock. You weren’t expecting his outburst, almost forgetting that you weren’t just talking to yourself.

“You are not a burden. You will never be a burden. We spent so long trying to find you, trying anything we could to find a post or picture anywhere that would lead us to you when you took your bracelet off.” Jungkook was now standing, moving to kneel in front of you.

“We read every single message, cried so many times in guilt that we weren’t there for you, for anything. We did everything we could think of to find you, even going as far as having our managers make that twitter post.” Jungkook was holding his fist to his lip, biting into his index finger. Namjoon took over from there.

“I apologize, you are right. I shouldn’t be talking from my mind, but my heart.” He even stood up, moving to sit next to you, but not before asking permission, gesturing to the spot next to you and only sitting down once you nodded your head.

“Jungkook is right. Once we were notified of your presence with the soul bracelet, we were shocked. How could we have not noticed the small empty feeling within our bond? How could we have gone so many years together, happy, and not notice you were across the world, suffering and alone and believing that we didn’t want you. We were so mad at ourselves.” Namjoon slowly reached a hand out, covering your clenched fists with his palm and squeezing gently, hoping to reassure you.

“We,” Namjoon gestured to the others, “want you as our soulmate like fate intended. There is a reason why we have connected soul marks, why our souls are linked.” His eyes are locked on your own, even as you turn your head to look at his hand on your lap. He can only imagine the words circling through your mind, the emotions flowing through your veins.

The boys had prepared for this. They all knew the trauma their lack of bracelet had caused you. They knew you would be hesitant to jump into their arms and accept them. He could tell from where he was sitting that their plan was slowly crumbling though now that you were in their presence.

The plan was to let Namjoon do all the talking, knowing you didn’t speak any Korean. But you saw right through them, causing his own mind to scramble with how to talk to you without using the prepared speech he wrote with the boys. He was so used to having everything prepared, having a backup plan for a backup plan all ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“We accepted you the moment we knew you existed. You are ours.” Yoongi spoke up from his spot next to Jin and Taehyung, eyes narrowed as if daring you to contradict his statement.

He was fully ready for you to just be theirs. Yoongi and Taehyung had spent so much time on your socials, watching the tiktoks you and your family had posted on your account. Even right before you came in, Yoongi was on your Instagram, trying to memorize the smile on your face, hoping he could bring you the same joy and happiness.

Yoongi’s statement sent shivers down your spine, the amount of possessiveness you could feel rolling off his tongue had your brain short-circuiting. You hadn’t felt something like this before. It was like an amplification of the feelings you had when you talked to them at the airport or even on the plan after your hip popped out.

You felt accepted and wanted.

Looking at Yoongi, your eyes sweeping over to Jimin and the hope he had written all over his face. Jin with the slight pout to his lips as he looks at your clenched fists, the slight bruising at the bottom of your thumb peeking out through Namjoon’s grip. Taehyung and Hoseok who had their hands clenched together and was watching your every movement, a slight twinkle to Taehyung’s eye as he glanced between you and Jungkook.

You would always feel like you were a burden, like you didn’t belong, but maybe those feelings could disappear over time. Maybe, fate was right when she connected your soul with these men. Maybe you should have never lost your own faith in fate. But ten years is a long time to feel unwanted.

“I-uh, I can’t promise anything, I have a lot to work through, but I…” You cut yourself off, trying to figure out the words you needed to say. Your mothers voice rings through your head, reminding you that fate always has a plan for you. That things happen for a reason.

“I want this. I—I’ve always wanted this…to have my soulmates and bond with them. Even after all this time I still hoped that I would find you.” You try to fight through the emotions you were experiencing, years of fear and hope battling in your throat. Jungkook can see you nervously tapping your fingers against your thigh and without thought moved forward to hold your hand in his, sending you a soft, reassuring smile.

“I guess I am just afraid.” You let out a nervous laugh, squeezing Jungkook’s hand in your own grasp. You look away from them, eyes focusing on the wall as you fight to blink away the onslaught of tears.

“Why?” The voice rings out, your mind recognizing it as Taehyung before you turn your head back, looking him right in the eyes.

“Because you have been together for so long. I can only imagine I would be interrupting the flow of your bond and relationship. I would be a burden you tiptoe around, trying not to make me uncomfortable as you return back into the comfortability and stability of your already existing bond. I’m afraid I won’t fit in with you, that my disability will hold you and me back. I cannot and will not put my needs to the side. I’ve had people before who were supposed to love me push me aside because I didn’t fit the mold they had for me in their head.” Your eyes narrowed, your heart beating so fast you could feel it in your throat.

“If you accept me, you accept all of me. I won’t be the hidden soulmate who isn’t allowed to leave the house because she isn’t normal or perfect.” At this point, you are letting it all out, all of your frustrations and fears. If these men were going to accept you and build a life with you in it, you weren’t going to hold anything back. You needed them to know what they were getting into.

You watched their eyes widen at your words, like they couldn’t believe what you were saying. You then watched their expressions turn to anger. Yoongi turned to Jin in anger and began speaking in Korean, too quickly for you to make out any familiar sounds or words. At one point you flinched, seeing Yoongi begin to stand up.

“He is not angry with you or at you. He is upset that you feel that way and have experienced such things without him being there to help you.” Namjoon’s whispered words have you turning back to Yoongi, reassessing the thoughts running through your head.

Namjoon knew you thought Yoongi was upset with your words, mad at you for your assumption of them, but you were wrong. Yoongi wanted to hurt the people who hurt you, his protective instincts strong when it came to his bonded. Well, Yoongi actually had some few choice words, but none that he felt comfortable repeating.

He could tell that his words had done something, made you feel some way because you looked back at him with wide eyes, reminding him of Jungkook when he was younger, unsure of the world ahead of him. His heart clenched with the way you looked to him for reassurance, and he knew from then that he would never let you go, would never be absent or unable to be there for you. He would do what he could within his power to protect you.

“He…he wants to protect me?” You asked Namjoon, hands tightly clenched with Jungkook’s as you looked away from Yoongi and up to Namjoon. You couldn’t help but to feel small, hoping that what Namjoon was saying was true. You had too many emotions crashing against your skull and you needed his reassurance.

Yes, you had your family at your side, and some amazing friends who you loved and who loved you, but you had always felt like a burden, no matter what you did. This led to many feelings of unworthiness and feeling incompetent. It didn’t help the words you would hear, murmured or whispered in passing, even by some family members at birthday parties. You saw the looks you would get.

You had never felt protected before, the feeling unknown.

It was something you always wished for. The security of being protected by someone who loved you was a powerful thing.

“We all do.” A quiet voice came from your right, Jimin having moved closer while you looked at Namjoon. He had wanted to hold you since the minute he had heard your voice over the phone that very first day. He could feel your heartache and your pain through your voice, he remembered he broke into tears at the sound of you so unsure.

Jimin sat on the couch next to you, turned to face you as he brought his hand up to brush your hair softly behind your ear so he could see you. You noticed Taehyung sitting behind him, a hand on Jimin’s lower back and an even softer look sent your way.

“You’ll never have to hurt again, with us. Just…give us a chance.” Jimin pleads with you, his voice soft. He thought you weren’t going to accept them; thought you were going to reject them. He knew pain was nothing new to you. He didn’t know if you would rather accept that or accept them.

You couldn’t help but to burst into tears at the sight before you. While Jimin was talking the rest of the boys on the other couch had moved closer, as close as they could get to you with Jungkook sitting at your feet, hands still connected to your own, rubbing the small bruise at the base of your thumb.

Jimin didn’t falter, he just moved his hand that was cupping your cheek to brush his thumb across your cheeks, wiping away your tears with such a softness you hadn’t felt since your mom had passed. His movements had you nodding your head, slowly at first, almost like a subtle flinch but then you were nodding your head up and down, his hand moving to follow your movements.

Once Jimin recognizes your nodding, once he realizes what it means, the biggest smile breaks out on his lips, eyes closing in what you recognize as his signature eye smile. He starts jumping in his seat and wraps his arms around you, almost falling into you as he does so, your weight now being supported by Namjoon behind you.

Jin smirks as he looks over you and Jimin to catch eyes with Namjoon, glad that you were giving them a chance, just like he predicted. Jin knew you would give them a chance, and he was preparing to woo you like never before, even though in Jin’s eyes, you would have never said no to begin with.

Your sniffle brings the boys out of their excited reverie, everyone looking at you and making you become embarrassed as you wipe your nose with your sleeve, no tissue in sight for you to reach for. You had stopped crying in between Jimin and Namjoon, feeling the bond activate at your words and feelings of acceptance.

You knew there was no going back at this point.

You knew the bond would take hold and cement the bond in your own soul.

“So, what happens now?” Your words had your soulmates scrambling, everyone talking at once as Namjoon remains silent, trying to remember what his own thoughts were as he held you in his arms.

Next Chapter

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solarpunkani · 1 year ago

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I think one thing that would be nice to see explored a bit more in Solarpunk art/aesthetic posts is how Solarpunk will likely look different depending on where you are, what’s feasible in that area, weather patterns, etc.

Like its almost 5am so I’m gonna be rambly but like. A lot of the most common features of Solarpunk art so far are a bit of an art-noveau type look, with lots of stained glass. Heavy emphasis on solar power and windpower and trees. In no way, shape, or form am I going to pretend this is BAD! I love this look, I think its great and inspiring and I love the color green I just.

Maybe Solarpunk doesn’t mean ‘green’ for everyone everywhere. Solarpunk might be more… yellows, and reds, and oranges. If you live in a desert, where there aren’t a lot of trees. I’m thinking places like Arizona, New Mexico, Niger, Chad, Libya. What would solarpunk fashion look like in these places—I feel like embroidered jean overalls won’t be common here. Traditional wear from these places is GORGEOUS, and I’d love to see more of a highlight on it and these biomes in Solarpunk. What would the housing look like—how would you keep cool indoors and out? I’ve seen a few ideas put into practice, but what would you dream up? How would you make them fun?

Similarly, how about coastal communities? Sure there’d be lots of green—but green may stand for seaweed just as much as it would trees. Not to mention the vibrant blues of the sky and seas, and the rainbow of colors from coral and seashells and glittering scales. What would a solarpunk community look like along the coasts of places like Florida, Hawaii, Jamaica, etc.? How are some of these places already Solarpunk? Wind and solar power could be an option, but we can also use hydropower as well—what would a solarpunk hydropower system look like in your wildest dreams? Fish-shaped spinning turbines underwater, swimming like sharks? Would houses float and bob along the water? How would gardening be handled with mostly salt water around—rain water capture would be critical, I feel—or desalination of small amounts of salt water. What would the fashion look like HERE? What does it look like already?

What does solarpunk look like in snowy places—like Alaska, Canada, Greenland, Russia? When green comes around in spring and summer, but fall and winter brings expanses of snow and ice? Solarpunk fashion here would be a LOT cozier than the solarpunk fashion on a Florida beach. I’m imagining lots of furs and layers. How would traditional practices be used to stay safe and warm, how would energy be captured and stored during long and dark winters? Would communities here be more nomadic, traveling further south during the coldest months, or would they stay where they are and construct homes that easily stay warm with little output?

Its actively 5am now so if I don’t make sense by all means. I guess I don’t make sense. But this has been on my mind for a few days now and I guess as we get closer to Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, this can be a fun and interesting thing to keep in mind! Let this inspire your art, your music, your fashion, your stories, your musing, and how you reach out to others about the ideals of Solarpunk.

#out of queue #solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic week #solarpunk fashion #solarpunk world #solarpunk aesthetic #ani rambles #mmmm idk if I’ll DELETE this later but I might edit for clarity when its not 5 the fuck am

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kuroppiii · 3 months ago

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women love me, fish fear me ᵕ̈ timeskip!boyfie!nishinoya yū x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : traveling the world ⋮⋮ with noya can be a handful at ⋮⋮ times ...

📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛 ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 ♡ # ~950 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory ‹ ✩ like what you read ? check out more of my blog ! •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i actually loved writing this so much ?? not me making myself giggle and kick my feet around … this one is so silly , chattt i hope you like it toooo ”

"YŪ, DO NOT TOUCH ME WITH THAT!"

your boyfriend was currently holding a big-ass king crab in his hands as the fishing boat rocked under your feet.

your travels have brought the two of you to the waters right off the shores of british columbia, canada. this isn't the first time nishinoya had convinced you to fish for your own dinner at the destination you found yourselves in. what better way to immerse yourself in the culture than eating only the best of what's in season for the region?

however, this is the first time that this little tradition has brought you face-to-face with a sea creature with arms about the same-length arms as yours.

"hurry up then, babe! take a picture so i can send it to the guys back home!" nishinoya only giggles as if he's not holding an absolute beast of a crustacean, “this is going to taste amazing tonight, i can’t wait. maybe we should grill it—wait does our airbnb even have a grill?…”

in the most loving way possible, you think to yourself how you could not possibly give a fuck about trying to remember if the airbnb had a grill or not right now.

not with that crab—something of magnitude you’ve never seen before in your life—staring you straight in the eye.

you try your best with slightly-trembling hands to fumble with the phone in your grasp, lining up the shot at the same time as squinting to see the screen under the blazing summer sun and its rays.

once you overcome the glare of the shimmering, almost sparkling, waters around you, nishinoya's image becomes clear through your phone screen as you snap a few photos.

his colorful rayband sunglasses are pushing back against the blonde tuft at the front of his hair slightly-damp hair. the mist that floats up from the current splashing against the base of the boat and has you both covered in a thin sheen layer of water—which is doing your boyfriend so many favors because the sun reflects off his tanktop-clad arms as they flex to hold up the king crab in front of him.

probably taking more pictures than necessary (perhaps a bit distracted by how you were ogling the man in front of you), you almost can forget about the fear the crab was instilling in you when you’re interrupted as nishinoya suddenly yells out,

"OW!"

he doubles over, still holding the crab but now trying to hold it as far away from his as possible, and winces in pain.

"OH MY GOD, BABE ARE YOU OK?" you ask him in a panic. your first reflex is to rush to his side to make sure everything’s okay—but again, there’s a huge fucking crab in your way.

flustered about this fact, you start to turn to get the boat captain for assistance. but then suddenly nishinoya starts to laugh.

“sorry baby, i was just playin’,” nishinoya admits through the gasps of air from his laughing fit, “i’m fine!”

you can even hear the captain laugh along with nishinoya’s little prank as he steers the boat a short ways behind you and nishinoya.

if the sun beating down on you wasn’t enough, you feel your face get even warmer and you can practically see yourself blushing as red as the crab your boyfriend just faked pinched him.

you wanted to be frustrated at him for joking around about something that could be very real and very dangerous.

but when you looked at nishinoya—quite literally glowing under the summer sun and with a smile that was wide and almost brighter in your eyes than that very same sun—you couldn’t bring yourself to be actually upset at him for very long.

“don’t scare me like that!” you still lightly scold him but feel his contagious laughter creep onto your face in the form of a reluctant smile on your lips. you try to playfully nudge at the side of his head for emphasis, but only your fingertips manage to graze his sea-salty hair as you try not to touch the giant crab by attempting to reach as far above it and its claws as you can.

but that night in your airbnb, a small log cabin that overlooked the shoreline where you were on that crabbing boat just hours before, you and nishinoya did manage to find a grill.

and your boyfriend wound up being right—the crab did taste really good after he cooked it for the both of you for dinner.

“told ya it would be worth it, sweetie,” he lovingly bragged.

you roll your eyes as you crack open another one of the crab legs but before you can dig in, nishinoya leans over the candlelit table where you two share your meal on the airbnb’s back porch.

the two of you kiss, and you can taste the garlic butter that's been accompanying your meal on nishinoya’s lips. it leaves you giggling as he pulls back, and it doesn't help that once he’s seated again, you swear you can see love swimming around in his eyes.

you're so in love with this man.

but if you said the best part about getting to travel the world was seeing your boyfriend enjoying the antics you both get into as he pursues this journey that means so much to him, you’d be wrong in his opinion.

in actuality, nishinoya’s favorite part is moments like these. seeing you in front of him, a beautiful sunset of pink, purple, and orange hues swirling to create a backdrop to your happy and serene face… that’s the thing he’d travel to the ends of the earth for, over and over again.

#🌼 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂 #🌼 𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗼𝘆𝗮 𝘆𝘂 #damnit im hungry now #haikyuu #yu nishinoya #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya x reader #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya yū #nishinoya x you #nishinoya fluff #hq nishinoya

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softpascalito · 11 months ago

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Worth crossing a blizzard for - Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: During shooting for The Last of Us, a snowstorm hits Canada, essentially forcing Pedro to take the day off. Turns out its not as bad as he thinks.

Relationships: Pedro Pascal x Reader WC: 1600 Tags/Warnings: MDNI, RPF, Real-Person-Fiction, Non-Explicit Sex, showering together, Gender-neutral Reader, Snow, blizzard, Crew Reader, The Last of Us Shooting, Canada, Kissing, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Pedro Pascal, Healthy Relationships, Secret Relationship Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: i haven't written pedro in sooo long, i miss him. needless to say, this is the lil version i created of him in my head and not necesarily an accurate representation of his actual personality <3 also, this is another lil entry for stephs winter writing challenge with the trope warmth, i highly recommend checking the entire list if youre interested :) (@toomanystoriessolittletime)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It starts with a light snowfall, little white particles floating through the air, rushing past the car as he drives back from set and a small sigh escapes his lips. It's been snowing on and off for weeks, usually meaning an earlier calltime for everyone, to make sure the locations can be cleared from the thin layer of snow if needed.

The wind has picked up by the time Pedro reaches the apartment that has been his home for the last few weeks and when he steps out of the shower half an hour later, the light snowfall has developed into a full-on blizzard, complete with cars honking in the streets below and his phone vibrating angrily, demanding attention. A rushed glance as he gets dressed confirms his suspicions. There's several warnings of severe weather, most of them due to hit tonight.

A gentle knock on the front door lets the man whip around and a small frown builds on his forehead as he crosses the hallway, taking a quick glance through the peephole. He practically yanks the door open.

You have your coat wrapped tightly around yourself, a knitted hat drawn down to your ears and a scarf wrapped around your neck. The two latter are practically soaked, decorated with little white crystals all over that are beginning to melt in the slightly warmer air of the hallway and dripping down onto the door mat.

Pedro stays still for a moment, taking in your form in front of him, before his brain registers what's going on. He reaches out, pulling you into the apartment, “What the hell were you thinking?”

The door closes behind you and the frown that decorated Pedros face a moment ago is now appearing on yours, “I- What?” For a split second you wonder if he's mad. He rarely gets a day off and even when he does, he usually spends it doing something, unable to just sit and relax, even for a little while. Maybe he's made plans for tonight and you've just crashed them.

“You can't be walking around in a blizzard like this, look at yourself,” he tuts, helping you take your wet coat off along with the hat and scarf and maneuvering them into the bathroom to hang them up to dry. You take your boots off carefully, gaze never leaving the man in front of you, “It's barely a twenty minute walk.”

“You're telling me you didn't even get a taxi?” He asks as he returns to the hallway and watches you put your shoes onto a small shoe tray.

“Does it look like I got a taxi?” You shoot back, getting a little irritated with how concerned he is. Immediately, Pedros gaze softens a bit and a small grumble escapes his throat as he takes a step forward, bringing his fingers up to your hair to carefully pick a snowflake out of it.

It melts between his fingers.

“No, you don't,” he muses, smiling a little sheepishly. “You could've called me. I would've picked you up.” You can't help but chuckle a little at that, “I did call you. You didn't pick up. The phone, I mean.” He stares at you for a moment, then back at his phone that has at least a dozen unread messages, then back to you, “Fuck, I- I was taking a shower, guess I didn’t hear-”

“It's fine,” you promise gently, standing on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on his cheek. Pedro sighs a little, taking in the way you’re looking at him and eventually nodding as he leads you further into the small apartment. It's spacious for one person but cozy for two, production of course not having calculated that you would be here too. You tried to stick to only sleeping over on weekends for a while, arguing that Pedro needed his rest and a quiet environment to go over his lines. He argued back that he slept a lot better with you beside him.

“You want a coffee?” He offers and you nod yes, following him to the open kitchen and hopping onto the counter as he grabs a mug for you.

“So you haven't read it yet?” You ask, rubbing your hands together in an effort to warm them up. “Read what?” His back is to you, the sound of the coffee machine starting almost drowning out his words.

“Shoot is canceled for tomorrow. Probably until next week.”

Something about your tone makes him turn around to face you. He's in front of you a second later, hands resting on your waist as he studies your face, “And you're not happy about that?”

“Why would I? It sets us back at least two days and were already behind, at this rate reshoots-”

Pedro hums a little and squeezes your waist, causing you to fall quiet.

“I don't like it either but-”

You cut him off before you can stop yourself, shaking your head as you speak and lowering your gaze towards the floor, “It's just really bad timing and I have so much to do already and-”

“Hey, look at me.”

He squeezes again, a little harder this time, and one hand comes up to nudge your chin until you're looking right at him. You find soft brown eyes, the little patch in his beard you like so much and hair that's still a little damp from showering.

“It's snow. You can't do anything about snow.”

You let your head fall forward again, letting out a small sigh, “Yeah, I know.” Pedro gently brings his arms around you, holding you close for a moment. The coffee machine beeps, signaling that it's done. But he doesn't let go yet, rubbing your back a little instead.

“The way I see it,” he starts. “We may as well enjoy our night in. Even if it wasn't exactly planned. Plus, there's no way in hell I'll let you go back out there anyway.”

He does have a point. And a night off, especially a night off for both of you, doesn't sound too bad, even if it's constricted to the small apartment you're sitting in.

As soon as your coffee is empty and a few urgent messages are replied to, Pedro insists on a shower to warm you up. You're halfway to the bathroom before you turn around with a small smile on your face, “You're gonna let me shower alone?”

“I just showered,” Pedro replies almost automatically, putting your mug away. Then, he catches the small twinkle in your eye.

“You just showered,” you repeat, the smile still decorating your face and Pedro nods a few times before getting into motion.

“I guess I could do with another one.”

For once, there's no rush. You take your time, with the shower and everything that it includes. You spend what feels like a solid five minutes kissing afterwards, already scrubbed clean and so, so content. The air is steamy when you step out of the shower and Pedro really does treat you to the full experience, insisting on applying your lotion for you.

You hum contently as he gently massages it into your back, your muscles tingling with relief. He chuckles softly behind you, “Feeling a little warmed up already?”

“More than a little. Don't know how you do it.”

You lightly slap his ass on the way to the bedroom.

After securing your favorite sweater of his and some sweatpants, you find yourself in the kitchen again, rummaging through the cupboards to figure out what to cook up with the scarce ingredients available. You both usually eat on location or get some takeout on the way home, not to speak of the lack of cooking skill you both possess.

It ends up being pasta with some leftover greens and tomatoes and for once, you could swear it tastes ten times better than whatever takeout you could've gotten. You're cuddled up on the couch, staring out into the dark, gusts of snow still blowing past the window. The traffic jams have calmed down, the people returned to their houses to find shelter from the cold. Only a few lost ones are still wandering around, no doubt with a goal that justifies a walk through the conditions. You understand them.

Pedro watches a man disappear around the corner and swallows his mouthful of pasta, “Are you sure you didn't catch a cold?”

You smile weakly, “ Even if I did, it would be worth it. I'd trade a cold for a night off with you. You know that.” He chuckles a little, tilting his head slightly, “Just saying, it may be a little on the nose for both of us to get sick at the same time.”

You raise a brow as you finish your plate and gently put it down before cuddling into Pedro’s side, drawing your legs up onto the couch, “There's a blizzard. It's not that on the nose.”

The snowflakes landing on the window stay there for a few moments, glistening in the dim light from inside the apartment before the warmth seems to reach through the glass. One by one, they turn into small drops of water.

He considers your words for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right.” His arm wraps around you, pulling you in a little more as you rest your head against his shoulder. He leans down to plant a small kiss on your head and you hum contently, smiling to yourself.

The snowflakes melt on the window pane. You melt in Pedros arms.

Your voice is only a mumble.

“Besides- you can't do anything about snow.”

notes: hey babes! im considering a second part to this so let me know if that's something you'd like <3

#pedropascaladventcalender #softpascalitosadventcalendar #pedro pascal / reader #pedro pascal / you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #gender-neutral reader #christmas #snow #fluff #softpascalito #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #rpf #real person fiction #stephswinterwritingchallenge

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fatehbaz · 7 months ago

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[The British imperial imaginary conceives] of Bermuda as a tiny paradise in the North Atlantic. But long before cruise ships moored up, prison ships carried hundreds of convicts to the island, first docking in 1824 and remaining there for decades. [...] [T]he use of Bermuda as a prison destination is less well known. For 40 years, British prisoners worked backbreaking days labouring in Bermuda’s dockyards and died in their thousands. [...]

[T]he notorious floating prisons known as hulks. [...] [I]n addition to locations across the Thames Estuary, Portsmouth and Plymouth, the British government used these ships as emergency detention centres in colonial outposts across the 19th century, detaining convicts in Bermuda between 1824 and 1863 and Gibraltar between 1842 and 1875. England has a long history of banishing its criminal population. In the 18th century, criminals were typically sentenced to seven years overseas in America. Many worked as plantation labourers in Maryland and Virginia [...]. Britain [...] turned to hulks to cope with rising [prison housing] numbers. Each could hold between 300 and 500 men, and they were nicknamed “floating hells” for their unsanitary and dangerous conditions.

---

[T]he government felt that convict labour could be put to use in other colonies [in addition to Australia], and so began an experiment in 1824 to send men to Bermuda. [...] Though only 20 miles long, the island was already extremely important to naval strategy. It was used as a refuelling station for British ships travelling to colonial outposts such as Halifax, Nova Scotia and the Caribbean. But the naval dockyard needed modernisation, and rather than employ local workers, convicts - a cheap and easily mobilised workforce - filled the labour gap. [...]

[M]en lived on board the ships they had sailed on (seven in total). [...] Many were injured in the dockyards, others went blind from the reflected glare of the sun as they quarried white limestone. [...] They were burnt by scorching temperatures and suffered sunstroke [...]. Bermuda also received people convicted in other British colonies, including Canada and the Caribbean. During the years of the great famine in Ireland (1845 to 1852), thousands of Irish convicts arrived on the island, many suffering from malnourishment. [...] The experiment ended after 40 years, in 1863, when dockyard repairs were completed. The remaining hulks were scuttled or broken up for scrap, and convicts were transported to Australia and Tasmania, or home to England [...].

---

Bermuda’s history as a prison island has been largely forgotten, but this story shares parallels with today. Prisons are suffering from overcrowding, and governments still detain prisoners and others on islands and modified ships. In Dorset, the Bibby Stockholm ship is housing asylum seekers [...].

The convicts who lived, worked and died in Bermuda are part of a larger global story of coercion and empire.

The product of their labour was imperial strength, but for those sent thousands of miles from home and buried in unmarked graves, the brutalities of their experience should also be remembered.

---

All text above by: Anna McKay. "Britain's forgotten prison island: remembering the thousands of convicts who died working in Bermuda's dockyards". The Conversation. 27 March 2024. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #ecology #landscape #colonial #imperial #multispecies #tidalectics #caribbean #archipelagic thinking #indigenous #carceral geography #ecologies

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ladygojooo · 4 days ago

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The shadows stain the snow (but darling, I want you anyway)

Synopsis: Betrayal, duty, and death - these were the only things the world of jujutsu had ever given you for all that you toiled. A twin of one of the fallen, you left it all behind in the hopes of carving out a small bit of uneasy paradise for yourself.

You should have known it never was going to work.

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader

WC: 1.8k

Content: light angst, marriage proposal, marriage of convenience, soft!Gojo, fluffy ending, pre-Shibuya arc

A/N: raaaaah, I was so tired of having this in my drafts, and though I think it's utter trash, maybe one of y'all will like it, lol. Satoru Gojo, my beloved, the man that you are <3

There was white everywhere you looked.

Seven years after you left, and you still couldn’t think of anything but him when you saw the stupid color. At least the sky was covered in clouds today. Sure, it made you feel boxed in, but it certainly wasn’t blue.

You shut off the ignition in your car, not giving yourself time to prepare for the bitterly cold air that you’d step out into. If Japan hadn’t accustomed you to its winter lows, then the Yukon Territory certainly did the trick.

As you stepped out of the car, you watched with faint amusement as your exhales wafted up and away into the air around you. It was the one thing that brought you a bit of joy during the winter season - always reminded you of incense, for some reason.

The warmth of your home hit you all at once, and you couldn’t help the sigh that left your body as you unbuttoned your jacket and hung it up on the coat rack right beside the door. You could hear the ham and potato soup you’d frozen calling your name, and as soon as you shucked all our outerwear, it would be a matter of minutes before you could consume it. It was truly one of the best Western recipes you’d found while in Canada.

You walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer, humming with glee when you saw the frozen soup sitting near the front. So focused were you on pulling out a pot and opening the container that you failed to notice the 6’3” man in black sitting at your kitchen table.

“You have enough for me?”

Over the rush of your heartbeat, you didn’t even realize that you’d thrown a knife from the countertop until you saw it floating a few inches out from his heart.

Gojo laughed. “Oh come on, is that any way to greet an old friend? I’m starving after all this travelling!”

You had two options at this point.

One - you hadn’t seen Gojo in ten years. You could laugh with him like no time had passed, get out a bigger pot and some more soup, and catch up over dinner.

Two - you could take all the hurt, anger, and fear you were experiencing at that very moment and put it to good use. Maybe you’d even be able to turn him out of your house. Freezing to death would do him some good.

You chose the second option.

“What are you doing here, Gojo?” You hissed, not turning back to the stovetop quite yet. You didn’t trust him not to get up in your business and try to steal some food.

“I’m here for a nice, homemade meal,” he grinned, grabbing the knife, kicking his feet up onto your kitchen table, and lifting his hands up to rest on the back of his head.

You threw a spoon on the countertop at him for doing so, uncaring that his infinity would keep it from reaching him. “I’m insulted that you think I’m that stupid. This isn’t some wellness check.”

Gojo sighed and settled into the chair some more as the spoon clanged to the floor, dragging out each second just because he could.

“We need you to come back,” he said. “We’re in need of more sorcerers, and you’re a special grade.”

You were already shaking your head as you answered, “Absolutely not. I’m retired.”

“You ran away.” The subtle accusation screamed loudly, even as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Semantics.” You waved it away with the bigger pot that you retrieved from under the counter. “Besides, what does it matter? Not once was I needed for missions. Surely the higher ups would have sent out a search party to bring me back if they really needed me.”

“And just who do you think kept the higher ups off your back?”

And oh, how the temperature dropped, even if his voice remained chipper. Your hand froze where it was about to turn on the gas.

“You knew where I was this whole time?” You whispered, voice shaky.

In lieu of an answer, the chair Gojo sat on skid across the floor, protesting the movement. His footsteps moved closer to you, each one sending your heartbeat skittering faster. You didn’t remember shutting your eyes.

“Look at me,” he murmured from right behind you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Look at me,” he repeated, grabbing your shoulders and turning you around. Still, your eyes didn’t open.

“Gojo, you can’t-”

“Why did you leave?”

His insistent tone had you opening your eyes, only to find the bandana gone and cerulean blue staring back at you. Your heart, despite all the dates and failed relationships you’d had between then and now, fluttered just like it did back in high school.

He was there, for the first time in a decade, he was there with you. You’d forgotten just how much you craved his attention, his presence, his very being until now.

You wouldn’t have the strength to leave a second time.

“Because my brother didn’t have the answers either.”

You felt him still, and for the briefest of moments, you thought the last thing you’d see would be a blinding purple. Hell hath no fury like a Gojo scorned, after all. You learned that shortly after the Sorcerer Killer’s death, when Suguru told you of the sheer power that Satoru unlocked.

“You know,” you whispered, eyes flitting down to the buttons on his shirt, “why I couldn’t have stayed.”

Gojo hummed. “You could have.”

“And where would that have left me, hm? Stuck between dangerous mission after dangerous mission or fearing when the higher ups would give me a fatal mission to finish me off? That’s not a life for anyone, never mind me.”

“And you don’t think I would have protected you?” He asked, the back of his knuckles brushing lightly over your cheek. Your breath stuttered, even as your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Gojo, we were barely adults! Between everything else going on, you couldn’t have shouldered my burdens.”

He chuckled. “You don’t think I’m strong enough, do you?”

You rolled your eyes and glossed over the parting words your brother left him with. “Satoru Gojo, I know your strength firsthand from our days in school, and I assume you’ve only improved since then. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

He smiled warmly at your free admission and let his thumb brush over your cheek. “Come back with me to train the next generation of sorcerers, and I promise you’ll be safe.”

“Have you not listened to anything I’ve said?” You moved your head back the slightest bit. It certainly wouldn’t surprise you if Gojo let your arguments for staying away go in one ear and out the other.

The white haired man shook his head. “I’ve listened to everything you’ve said since stepping foot in the house. I just have solutions to each and every one of your protests.”

You moved to push him away, but with his infinity up, he still stood there, mere inches away. It was having an annoyingly dizzy effect on you, if you were being honest. It pissed you off.

“Oh, really? Pray tell, o wise one, how are you going to keep the higher ups from retaliating or marrying me off to some creep who only wants me for my technique?”

“By marrying me, of course.”

You sent him the most deadpan look you’ve ever conjured in your life, hoping that he wouldn’t catch the genuine shock that ran through your body. “That is the worst plan you’ve ever come up with. Absolutely not.”

He whined around the smile on his face. “It’s not! Think about it - you get protection from the higher ups through me, I get to bring you back to train the students, and based on how long it’s socially acceptable to wait to have children once married, we can work out a plan for divorce in plenty of time. After that, you can come right back here and live out your days in lonely solitude.”

“No, Gojo. I’m not coming back, what’s not clicking here?” You groaned in frustration, throwing your head back - anything to get away from his puppy eyes.

“One of the first years is Sukuna’s vessel.”

Your head whipped down to meet his gaze, eyes wide once again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope!” Gojo chuckled. “Pretty great kid too. You’ll love him.”

The entire conversation was giving you whiplash to the extreme. Gojo showing up out of the blue, wanting you back at the school, offering to marry you to keep you from the higher ups, and now Sukuna, the feared King of Curses himself, was alive and trapped in an innocent boy.

The man really knew how to sweep you off your feet, you’d give him that much.

“Satoru, why do you really want me back?”

His lips slowly fell from a smile, and he backed away to look out the window to your right. Silence curled around you both, growing more suffocating by the second.

“Something big is coming,” he spoke lowly. “I don’t know what it is, but something tells me that it’s time to get my affairs in order. I-” He cut himself off with a harsh sigh and turned back to you once more. “I have my regrets, sure, but I don’t want you - not being with you - to be one of them.”

Your body moved of its own accord, letting an arm slip through his before resting your head against him. You breathed him in, sandalwood and bergamot and him in the best way possible. The fabric of his shirt brushed against your lips as you spoke.

“Can you really love me after all that’s happened? All this time?”

You missed the tender smile on his face. “I never stopped.”

Your breath shuddered as you buried yourself in his chest. After the betrayal from your brother, Satoru being ordered to kill him, the brutal argument you two had in Shoko’s morgue, all of it - you ran away to be free of the memories, the love strangling you every way you turned. You ran away because how could Satoru see you without seeing his best friend in your face? How could you face yourself in the mirror when all you saw was Suguru staring right back at you? How could anyone at Jujutsu High stand to be near you when all you were was a walking failure?

“And you’re sure you want me?”

“Well, it was either you or Utahime, so.”

You groaned and let your head drop to Gojo’s shoulder, slapping his arm a few times. “I hate you with a burning passion.”

“That’s the spirit!” He cheered, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

“You owe me so much kikufuku.”

“I’ll buy it all for you.”

“Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“This honeymoon better be at the beach.”

“Done.”

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x you

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starlit-crossing · 6 months ago

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A Ghost of Yourself Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Flying Solo

---

Danny had lost track of the time quickly after beginning to fly, his stress ebbing away with the landscape that spend by. He tried to focus on the grass, the roads, the horizon, anything but what had just transpired. Every time his mind wondered; he would be reminded that he needed to not feel. His friends' face as he took off — nope, not thinking about it. How worried Jazz would be — what a really cool tree I just passed. His parents’ confusion and not getting to say goodbye to anyone — that is a lot of white vans up a head. Wait… Danny stopped midair above a state highway. Similar to a police barricade, white vans, jeeps, and motorcycles were stationed in the middle of the street. Guys in White were stopping the passing cars, scanning them, then letting vehicles through the state border. Lines were beginning to form and angry honks floating up to him. This isn't good… Danny fished for his burner phone, feeling for the metal at the bottom of his backpack. Digging it out, the clock read 12:45. He had left Casper high during lunch, which had been around 11:30, and he had left Amity around 11:40. Good to know it takes less than an hour for the Goons in White to make a move. He floated closer to the cars to see if anyone had a Wi-Fi spot open. I should've grabbed the Fenton GPS from the emergency OPS center, finally a Wi-Fi signal popped up under the name __Not_The_FBI__. Danny choked on a laugh as he pulled open his map app. He was going to need to avoid every joke and pun on this trip, or he was a dead man. Well, a deader man… wait! Bad brain! He yelled at himself. He had to be less than a five-minute flight from Chicago. Zooming in, he looked for a train station or a ferry… and there was a train station used for hauling cargo from the US into Canada.

“Perfect!” Danny exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air, only to hit something metal. Turning, Danny watched as a pristine white drone steadied itself in the air. Its camera focusing on him.

“Shit.” Danny turned to watch as the men below froze, then look to the sky. Spotting him immediately, he just waved as they began to take aim. Turning invisible and speeding away as round after round of ecto blasts lit up the sky. Nice going Fenton, he berated himself flying towards Chicago; I have two things I can't do: express emotion and use powers publicly. I've already done both! Like he thought it hadn't taken long to reach the station, gravely rails and signs directing conductors were sprawled throughout. He found an empty car, checked for any passerby, and phased inside. A flash of light leaking through the cracks as he returned to his human self. The darkened car was cold, with metal walls and doors. The floor was a kind of embossed metal, a crisscross pattern embellished the sheet metal.

“I should've brought a book or something.” he laughed tiredly to himself… “Damn it!” Danny yelled, banging his head on the car wall. It's probably best if I just sleep, I'll be over the state border by the time I wake up. He thought to himself, settling into a corner. Propping his backpack to use as a pillow, the cold had no effect on him as he drifted to sleep.

---

It had been a little over an hour since Danny had gone on the run. Sam and Tucker had decided to skip what was left of school and head straight home. It would be difficult to catch up with him, but they had to at least try, and every second that passed was a second wasted. They didn't have anything in mind for Danny being tracked so easily, but they would figure something out. They had to.

When Sam got home, her house was surrounded by GIW agents. Her parents stood at the door listening to a panicked Jack and Maddie. As she pushed her way to the front, she was able to make out some of what Danny's parents were saying.

“Please! Just let us make sure Phantom didn't leave anything here. Anything could be a clue to where he took Danny!” Maddie cried, Jack stood by her as she pleaded, an arm around her shoulder. Her parents shared a pained look as they tried to decide what to do.

“Maddie, we know your situation with ghosts is important. To your career and with your family,” her mother started softly, remaining in her polite and cheery tone. “But we can't risk involving Sammikins more than your son already has.”

“Not to mention when we let you search our home earlier during that wild goose chase! Left a large mess that our house cleaner had to pick up.” Her father chimed in, annoyed.

“We understand that, but we need every clue we can! Sam!” Jack shouted, seeing her as she entered the path leading to the door.

“Sammy get inside! You don't need to be pestered by agents as well.” Her dad called, ushering her inside the large house.

“Same, please! Have you heard anything from Danny? Is he with Tucker?” Maddie called, fighting the door as her mother tried to close it. Sam tried to calm down, closing her eyes and slowing her breath. Key word being tried.

“No! I haven't and neither has Tucker! So just leave the two of us alone and don't you dare try storming his house too!” she hollered, shoving the door fully closed. She sighed back sliding against the door.

“That's right Sammikins! Just because they risked their family with ghosts doesn't mean they can risk ours!” Her mother cheered.

“And sorry, Sammy, the house cleaner couldn't get to the second floor today, so your room's still a mess.” Her dad added.

“It's fine, dad. I'll clean it myself. Can I… Can I just be alone for a bit? Stressful day and all.” Sam mumbled, making her way upstairs.

“Of course, sweetie!” they answered, leaving Sam with herself. Once her parents were out of sight, she ran up the stairs. As she entered her room, she looked at the damage caused by the aforementioned goose chase. It looked like a storm had blown through, her bed and desk had their contents thrown about. Anything related to Danny had been pulled out. Ignoring the mess, she pulled over a chair to her closet and felt for the backpack taped to its ceiling. Once down she poured out its contents mentally checking everything was still there. Her clothes? Check. Money? Check. A letter? Sam pulled out the simple envelope that made an appearance in her bag. It was addressed to her, the whole thing crisp and clean. Inside a piece of notebook paper full of Danny's handwriting, nothing looked rushed, and it seemed he had prepared these in advance.

*Ring* *Ring*

Tucker’s face lit up her phone's lock screen, she answered the video call while reading the letter.

“Sam! Did you get home safe? I heard the GIW were swarming your house. Did you find a letter?”

He blurted, the room behind him burring as he moved.

“I'm fine, and I did. Did you get one too? Why would Danny write these?” She flipped the page to see if there was more, a hint to what he was thinking.

“I did, that was why I called you. Does yours say the same thing. Well, maybe not the exact same.” He rambled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, Tuck! He wants us to stay in Amity? To abandon him and protect the town that barely cares he's here?” She exclaimed. Tucker nodded along from the camera.

“I know right? He's our best friend, we can't just let him be on the run!” Tucker ranted, “Can we? I mean, I know where he's coming from. We can't really trust his parents or the GIW to keep ghosts out. Valerie can handle her own, but she still hates ghosts. It will be hard for her to leave the neutral ones alone.”

“I don't know, Tuck, Danny even said we could tell Valerie his secret if things got out of hand and became too much for us and Jazz. I don't think he plans on coming home, at least not anytime soon.” she contemplated; there had to be something they could do. “What about other heroes?”

“What? What would they do?” Tucker asked.

“I'm not sure, I know we don't really keep up with stuff outside of Amity, but the Justice whatever works with the government, right? We could tell them our local hero is being unjustly hunted.” Sam suggested pacing the room.

“Sam, what will they find when they look into Phantom? That he's a wanted criminal, robbing banks, and threatening mayors? The media doesn't shine Danny in a good light.” He countered.

“But those can be explained, the GIW have files on Freakshow.”

“Didn't Danny wipe his memories with the Reality gauntlet? They couldn't get the whole truth, or they would learn his brain has been messed with through magic or martians.” They went back and forth.

“Then what do you propose we do? We can't track him down without others noticing.” Sam huffed in defeat.

“We'll just have to do what he asked of us. We'll watch over the town, if Valerie gets out of hand, we'll offer our help first. Say we helped Phantom with ghosts, Danny included. We can say Danny is protecting Phantom even now, and it will buy us some time to see if she can handle Danny's secret.” Tuck finished.

“She trusts Danielle, right? We might be able to convince her.” A moment hung in the air between the two friends. The reality settling in that they may never see their friend again. “Where is Danielle? She might get caught in the crossfire of this, being a clone and all.” Sam wondered.

“She's in Italy last I checked, I'm glad I gave her one of my old phones before she left the US.” Tucker answered.

“That's good… Which of us is telling Jazz?"

---

The train started to move shortly after Danny fell asleep. Four hours passed before Danny's body forced him awake, ghost hunting had ruined his sleep. He could hear Jazz's voice in his head talking about the importance of sleep for teens today. He checked the burner for the time and saw the numbers 6:05 glowing back at him. Pulling open the map he saw he had made it to Indiana, finally.

“Time to get moving, I guess.” As he spoke, he focused on keeping his voice even. The events of earlier, still fresh in his mind. The sound of the car's rolling wheels echoed in the empty car as he stood. Stretching to pop his back. He stuck his head invisibly through the train door, seeing the cargo station grow closer. Bringing his head back in, he readied to slip off the train. Steadying himself as the train arrived, opening the door, and running through the train yard as fast as he could without getting caught. It had been easier than expected, no one cared, as the teen bolted through the gravel-filled rails with ease. Once outside, he went searching for food. A mini mart was on the corner and a King Burger across the street. He couldn't risk lingering, so he made way for the minimart. The convenience store felt dated with white walls and neon signs, the floor was black and gray checkered tiles. Grabbing some water bottles, bags of jerky, and some premade sandwiches. The many sweets and freezy drinks were tempting, but the longer the food could last, the better. The place was deserted, only the clerk scrolling on his phone could witness he was ever there. After finishing his resource gathering, Danny went on the hunt for a gray hound bus stop, it would be the easiest way to get around without drawing too much attention. Looking for the longest possible route to the East Coast, he was left with two options: Gotham or Metropolis. Both had international ports and superheroes that protected them. He had always meant to look into other heroes more, find some inspiration or role models for hero work, but with ghosts constantly attacking the town and homework, he just didn't have time. Mr. Lancer tried to keep class interesting by referencing the things happening on the global news. Now if he could only remember what he had said about the heroes protecting the cities. Danny had actually perked up when Lancer mentioned that one was an alien with super hearing and other abilities. Aside from that, all he could remember was their names, Batman and Superman. I'm feeling a lot better about my hero name. He would have to give Amity News a break about Invis-O-Bill. Between the two, he was pretty sure Superman was the alien. Sam had done a report on meta-human rights and had gotten very passionate when she discovered that they didn't reference the ecto acts whatsoever. She had been so sure that someone would shed light on the act, accounting it to being unknown meta-humans being unjustly removed of their rights. A point she got stuck on was that Batman had all but banned metas from Gotham. Stating they should seek sanctuary elsewhere due to the antics of his villains. It had something to do with gas, scarecrows, and clowns? So, he could either go to the city where no powers were allowed, or the city protected by a super-hearing alien. The GIW might expect him to go to an alien for sympathy or to overshadow him in a power grab. Gotham seemed like the safer choice, even with the high amounts of criminal activity they seemed to have. He would be able to fight off most thugs without causing serious damage, humans can't normally through a guy through a brick wall like ghosts can. No one would question him being alone and sneaking around, he'd use his powers to get on a boat for Europe and keep a low profile while he searched for Danielle. He'd fill her in on what was going on, send a message to Sam and Tucker that he was safe, and wait to hear what was happening in Amity. So, Danny waited in line and got his ticket for Gotham. The bus was crowded full of people trying to do the same as him; to take a bus as far from one's old life as possible. He was able to grab a seat towards the back, settling into the stained fabric seats. His backpack between himself and the wall of the bus window. Settling in for the longest stretch of his journey out of the country.

Hello and welcome again! I hope everyone is enjoying the story. It’s been very exciting getting to see everyone’s comments and enjoyment for the fic. Don’t worry about the lack of Bat family, I am getting their as fast as I can. I wanted to revisit Amity a little bit to wrap up a few loose ends. I’m not sure at what point in the DP timeline I am placing this, but it will most likely either be prefinal of the show or post A Glitch in Time. Two very different time periods but both work with the general DC timeline I am using. As for the Bat family I’m more familiar with the characters themselves than the canon timeline. So, I’ll primarily be referring to the Batman: Family Adventures for the family and Young Justice for world events such as meta-humans.

I spent a lot of my time working on this listening to the Epic: Underworld Saga musical concept and got stuck on the song No Longer You. It’s so good and feels like it could fit Danny in some aspects if you go for a post A Glitch in Time ghost king Danny. Might draw something if I got time.

See you next week, byee!

Master post - Chapter 2 Prev. <<< Next >>>

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #fanfic writing #fanfics

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hetalia-club · 1 year ago

Text

Hetalia characters but it’s what kind of kid in Highschool they would have been. (I’m going off American/Canadian high school types because I am American)((Midwest to be more specific))

America- the jock who took dodge ball way too seriously. Would throw the ball way to hard. He really took all of Gym class way too seriously.

Canada- was the Hockey Meathead. Also took Gym way too seriously. And always had a huge dip in his bottom lip and carried around a clear spit bottle.

England- the “um actually” kid. Would correct the teachers with usually wrong information they learned off of the internet or TV, The teachers hate him.

France- class hottie who always skips class but the teachers have like a weird crush on him so they let him do whatever…

Russia- quiet photography kid spends too much time in the red room some think he’s a serial killer but he just is awkward and shy and doesn’t know how to socialize

China- the kid who draws all day every day. Draws dragons and wolves specifically. Will not pay attention in class. Gets in trouble for drawing all the time. People like him a lot though. He will draw you a sick dragon if you ask nicely.

Italy- similar to France. But he does get in trouble for things because he cannot stop talking to save his life.

Romano- is always in detention for his mouth. Has a reputation as a ‘bad kid’ but it’s actually because he just has no filter. At least twice a week if you are in a class with him you will hear the teacher say “Lovino, go to the principals office” and he’ll be like “the fuck did I do?”

Japan- the foreign exchange student everybody loves. Gets invited to all the parties and has dated most of the popular girls in school.

Prussia- the foreign exchange student nobody likes. Gets no bitches. But does not mind.

Germany- Teachers pet. He is the one who will yell at the class to “stfu! The teacher is talking!” Will remind the teachers there was an assignment due.

Spain- The senior foreign exchange student. One of the most well liked kids in school. New S.O every week. Will most likely be Prom King

Austria- sexual active band kid. (If you know you know)

Norway- the kid who always has his headphones in. Doesn’t want to talk to anyone. will just ignore you if you try.

Finland- major frat boy energy. Goes to every house party and gets trashed. He seems to always know where they are happening even if he wasn’t invited he’s still going to show up.

Sweden- the shy/quiet kid who is friends with the party boy he always gets drug along because Finland says he needs to “socialize more” but he always just sits in the corner and waits for someone he knows who is leaving to take him home.

Denmark- another jock. But he is friends with everybody. Will talk to everyone. Floats around the lunch room and does not have a specific clique.

Iceland- the kid who is always asleep in class. Somehow he is passing everything with straight As but he is never awake. Sometimes he’ll not show up to school for like a week. Straight just vapes in class and somehow never gets caught.

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stcrgazings · 1 year ago

Note

like a tatoo pt2?

two ghosts ➳ (c.l)

like a tatto pt2, you can read part one here

note: hi girls it’s been a while, and this is long promised and so I decided to finish it finally today to celebrate p4 and p5 in Canada, truth to be told i struggled terribly with this one, because I didn’t really planned for like a tatto to have a pt2, i mean it was an idea but i thought people wouldn’t even like it but then everyone wanted it so yeah, I basically wrote and rewrote the whole thing about 7-8 times because I didn’t liked it, but after a thousand rewrites I’m finally happy with the outcome, i hope you enjoy it and leave it tons of notes, it doesn’t really have to do much with the song but I thought of it when writing so it only seemed fitting.

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

summary: Charles can’t stop thinking about a certain someone and manifesting without realizing it’s a powerful thing, but will he be able to fix what he broke?

warnings: angsts (lots of it) swearings, fighting, crying, two heartbroken people almost killing each other.

word count: 5.4K (longest yet in the blog)

He’s thinking of you again.

In his dying car in the middle of the track, he thinks thinks in those same red lips that flood his mind at any given minute and also that he must be the most unlucky person in the world, and that if you were here you’ll probably tell him that he’s just being his negative self and that that he’ll be alright.

But you’re not, thanks to no one but him, so he curses to himself and gets out of the car.

He thinks of you again, as he answers all types of questions to the hound of reporters that surrounds him, he imagines that it’s you that’s waiting for him in the garage, ready to hold him and kiss him and make him feel better but it’s the new girl that he’s seeing that wraps him in her arms, and he hates it because it doesn’t feel the same and her comfort isn’t half as good as yours and quite frankly just because she isn’t you.

But what he hates even more is the lonely road to the hotel, and the way your face is plastered in every single advertisement in that big city he’s in, just like in Monaco, and France and every single country in the globe, and the sour feeling that is to look at your beautiful face knowing that he’ll never have you again is as bad as getting a DNF in the first race of the season, if not worse.

The girl besides him talks and talks, hoping that maybe he’ll feel better, but he doesn’t because her long lashes look just like yours and that definitely doesn’t help him feel better at all, he feels more like being punch in the gut, repeatedly. But he doesn’t say anything and just remains kept to himself the whole ride, thinking about how you are or what you’ve been doing.

Maybe right now you’re thinking of him too.

Eventually he’s too in his head, thinking about what you would tell him in this situation he’s in, what you would do to make him feel better and forget the week if not months he’s had, he ends up sending the girl by his side away, repeating the words that once he said to you “you just wouldn’t understand baby” and watches her face drops, he feels his hearts sinks because your torturing sobs ring in his hears whilst the girl besides him leaves the room without saying goodbye.

(Just like you once did)

He knows that what he is doing is definitely not healthy at all, but he can’t really help himself, the memories of you being the only thing that keeps him a float, because he can’t really have you now, you’re no longer one call or one flight away, he’s by himself now, so reminiscing about you and your time together brings him some sense of peace.

He imagines that you would be waiting for him at his Monaco apartment, or at the airport, he wishes in silence to accidentally bump into you at the supermarket aisle once he gets back, fooling no one but himself, knowing none of those things will be happening when he gets home.

He used to think that racing with be enough, that if he just went day by day by the time season started he would be able to get ahold of himself, and then a competitive car would just do the rest but looking at the car he has right now that doesn’t even look like an option.

It’s like it was one step forward, thinking of last year, how he could’ve had it all, the championship and the girl and everything he could ever wanted, but now a long year later he knows its really three steps back, because he doesn’t have anything in the championship, as not one point adds up in his standings and he definitely doesn’t have the girl, doesn’t have you.

He opens his phone searching up your name, something he does religiously every night, to check on you without actually doing it, to tell himself that you’re okay, that you’re happy, and better off without him, the urge to text you or call you is always there, itching on the tip of his fingers, but it never wins, even though he truly does want it to, so he can tell you that he misses you, and that he’s sorry, and that he can’t live without even though he has tried with everything he has in him.

But he doesn’t, he never does, he just scrolls through his phone, reading about how you were in Italy a few days back, in Rome, for a fashion show or something liked that, and then feels his heart drop like he does every time he reads about you, this time he stares at the pictures of you exiting a club clearly wasted with an Argentinian soccer player, called Dybala or something liked that, by your side with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and your face was deeply into his neck.

He sighs and throws his phone to the other side of the bed with something that feels like sadness, anger and jealousy all together and decides that’s enough you for the night.

He knows he has no right to feel anything involving you, because he was the one that screwed up, he was the one that had broken up with you and essentially ended things but he still did because he missed you and was still completely in love with you; He would even say haunted by you, his heart still skipping a beat every time someone mentioned you, his mind was constantly flooded with everything that involved you, he still thought about you when he saw tulips because they were your favorite flower, and every time he sees a sunset he can almost picture you with your phone in hand taking a picture and when he listens to Taylor Swift you’re all that comes to mind, even though he probably didn’t know what your favorite song was anymore since it was always changing from time to time.

He thought way too often about the fact that you probably didn’t think of him anymore when you heard lover and probably all too well was the one to go now that it came to him.

Everyone told him that it would get better eventually, but every day it felt like it was actually getting worse because in every living breathing moment of every hour of every day he just wanted to be with you, to be worthy of your love, to be like you both used to be before things had gotten bad, before he became a douche and didn’t realize it, before he pushed away and damaged things beyond repair.

Maybe in another universe he did everything right.

You’re both 20 years old and nothing bad has ever happened to you.

In another universe everything went well, and he won the championship with Ferrari, and you’re sitting on his lap giggling in his neck whilst in the beach in his yacht.

In another universe he’s the bigger person and doesn’t open your contact info just to see your profile picture.

In another universe he does get over you and everything gets better.

But there isn’t another universe so his fingers ghost over your phone number as he wants to call you, but then decides that a text wouldn’t hurt anyone since you probably have him blocked like in any other social media and wouldn’t get it anyway.

So he types an “i miss you” and then presses the send button, with his hands shaking and his heart in his throat, somehow the “I hope that you’re ok” that he types after hurts him even more as he sends it.

He knows he’ll get no answer, like he said before, you have him blocked everywhere, and he wants to say he wrote that just to vent all of the feelings from the past few weeks, but a teeny tiny part of him still wishes for you to read them, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re just as miserable as he is right now.

But that doesn’t change how mortified he becomes as the word delivered appeared on his screen, his heart dropping from his throat to his stomach.

Well fuck.

(…)

I miss you.

You’ve always been an glass half empty type of girl and you’ve never even know why, you’ve always been negative except with everything that involved Charles.

But that doesn’t change how decompose you are after getting that text, silent tears stream down your face as you made your way out of the busy club, feeling like the air inside it was being slowly stripped away from you, your lungs failing to do their job as you felt like breathing was to much of a task.

I hope that you’re ok.

It knocks the air out of you, and before you know it you’re emptying your insides in the sidewalk in the back of the club, and you’re sweating and you feel like you’re about to pass out.

I miss you.

Everything is a blur, you feel your own bodyguards hand around your arm as they get you in the car, your friend behind you.

“You’re okay miss?” The question rings in your ears and you want to answer no but your voice doesn’t seem to come out, so you just move your head from side to side signaling a clear “no.”

From then on the voices feel distorted, worrying looks surrounding you, you feel your friends hands all over your face, her left hand firm on your chin as she took one good look at you, staring deep into your very drunk and disoriented eyes.

“I think she’s intoxicated”

I hope that you’re ok.

You are basically pass out in the back seat of the black Range Rover in, head pressed in your friends lap as she blows air on your face, there’s discussion in the front seat, something about taking you to a hospital, they tell you not to fall asleep, but you can’t really help your closing eyes, and so as everything turns into black you think that this whole thing is unfair, and that he doesn’t have a right to miss you after every he did but a drunk mumble comes out of you anyways.

“He needs to know that I miss him too” is the last thing that leaves you in a dry and tired whisper as your consciousness is lost in the back seat of the car.

(…)

“I fucking hate Balmain” you muster as you fix your hair in the bathroom, still a little drunk, definitely a lot hangover, your head pounding so much it felt like it was going to burst.

You were currently in an event, a Balmain one in case it wasn’t clear, a tiny skirt adorned your legs with a white top from the brand that squeezed you in all the right places, your hair was curly and down, the high ponytail that you’ve worn for the past months gone, since just a few hour ago you told your stylist that anymore pressure in your head would make you puke.

To say that you would rather be anywhere else than in this 20ft yacht was an understatement

but your manager had almost dragged you here in an attempt to do some damage control because of the show you just pulled last night.

So you smile and nod and chat politely with everyone that comes close, and you giggle and flirt with the Argentinian soccer player in front of you, allowing his roaming hands just above of the curve of your ass and into the naked back of your dress, laughing playfully.

And when Paulo Dybala leaves you, you do tell him that you might be free later that night.

You take another sip of champagne when all of the sudden you feel a heavy stare just at the back of your neck, a shiver running down your spine and you would know that feeling everywhere because it’s what you’ve been missing all this time.

Charles fucking Leclerc, your ex, and the one you might consider the love of your life, it’s in the same enclosed space that you are right now, and not any enclosed space but in a stupid yacht that is kilometers away from mainland, kilometers away from any scape from him.

But of course that doesn’t stop you from finding the closest emergency exit from the room, and feeling him behind you before you even start running to the outside of the boat, the bow you think that it’s called, but it’s the last thing you think about as you basically jump stairs down.

“Y/n wait!” He calls out for you and your name from his mouth sounds just as you remember and it breaks you down almost completely.

“Get away from me Charles!” You shout at him, grabbing your dress and waking as fast as your heels allow you to, because you don’t want to see him and let alone hear whatever it is he has to say.

“y/n, please listen” he grabs you by the wrist before you can separate from him even further, you didn’t even know where you were going considering you were trap in a yacht in the middle of the sea but it was definitely away from him.

“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear Charles, please let me go” you turn around to see him, to finally catch a glimpse of him, a good look into him at the person you used to love the most, and the moment you are met with does same eyes green you’ve thought about everyday since he left you, you feel yourself tremble because there’s begging in his eyes desperation even, and even though you want to look away from it, you can’t.

“I can’t— I can’t keep living like this, I need you to hear me out please” he looks at you too, and god me missed you, moon dancing over your good side making you look as beautiful as ever as he pulls you a little closer to him, because he needs you, like he never needed anything before, and it breaks him, it shatters his heart into a million peace the look that you give him, because it’s filled with hurt and pain, and your eyes looks glassy and broken and he knows that it’s all because of him.

“You need—! you need me to listen!” At this point you’re past hurt, now you’re livid because how dare he and he actually looks scared when you walk towards him and you thank God that all of the guests are inside having dinner because you now think that you might kill him.

“What about what I needed Charles!?” You push him away, freeing yourself from his grab on your wrist and decide that if he wants to talk then you’ll talk.

“I needed you! And you fucking left me, I held together our relationship for months Charles, I booked the flights, I killed myself going from New York to Monaco just to see for six or seven hours because you were busy and never had the time, I waited for you up every time you came back from a race just to see your face even though you never even spoke to me because you were sad, you pushed me away, you quite literally gave up on our relationship and I need to hear you out?. Fuck off Charles” you brush your hair out of your hair, tears staining your rosy cheeks, and you want to hate him you truly do, but as you look at him you simply can’t, and that makes you even more miserable.

The whole thing makes you want to jump from the boat and drown, your head pulsing from how bad it hurts and you don’t know if it is because the only thing you have eaten in the whole day were some olives or because of the hangover or because of how infuriated you are.

“Ange I…” the nickname sends chills down your spine, Charles simply stares at you and just wants to make it all better, wants to take these whole months back, wants to stop himself from treating you the way he did when you were still together but he knows he can’t.

“Don’t call me that” you spit before he can even continue but he walks towards you to grab you again, and you don’t stop him when his hands find your arms again. “Okay but please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry”

“Baby I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for all of that, and If could take it back I would, in the split of a second, I didn’t know how to value you back then and I took you for granted when I shouldn’t have, and every day since we broke up I’ve lived to regret it, I’ve been miserable since the day you left” he says and it sounds truthful, but you can’t let yourself believe him. “You didn’t look miserable when you hooked up with every other girl in Monaco, including my best friend” you shoot back. Cleaning the tears from your cheeks before he can even dare to.

“Maybe I didn’t take the best choices, that I know, but they weren’t you!”

“It’s that supposed to make me feel better?” You mock him, because you are hurt and angry, and he can’t help but groan in frustration. “Yes—! No—! I mean that, I am trying to make it better, I love you, okay? Like I’ve never loved someone before that I know, and it’s killing me, I hate seeing you like this, every time I’ve been happy it’s because I thought of you, in my car it’s you who I want singing at the songs in the radio, it’s you who I want to wake up to, it’s you who I want to come home to, it’s you, everything I’ve ever wanted, every living day, every night baby, it’s you who I come to, checking to see if you are okay, wondering how you are, if you are okay”

“Well I’m not, I’ve been miserable, fucking going insane because of how badly I’ve missed you, getting drunk every fucking weekend trying to get you out of my mind, because you are all I can think about, wearing your shirts in the bathroom floor while I can’t stop crying because of badly I want you, despite of what you did to, because even after everything I wanted to call you, to hear your voice and to tell you that I loved you, isn’t it pathetic?” You asked, because that is exactly how you’ve felt, pathetic, even now hearing him out when you know that you know better than that.

“What? No you are not pathetic baby, you could never be and I am so sorry for making feel less than how wonderful and amazing you are, I wanted to call you too, you have no idea”

“Then why didn’t you?!” You asked and that is the only thing you actually want to hear from him, because for him to call you was everything you ever wanted, for the longest time it was. “Because I convinced myself that you were better off without me, I didn’t wanted to keep hurting you”

“It’s—it’s what you are doing right now!”

You want to say something, anything really but you can’t, because the whole thing it’s to much and before things can get even worse, your body fucking betrays you and your lungs stop doing what they are supposed.

“Stop” you speak, softly for the first time since the whole conversation started, and it’s quiet and you can’t stop crying, and you want to scream and disappear because you don’t want to keep having this conversation because it hurts, it hurts so much.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He asks. Eyes glistening, fighting back the tears seeing you like this, how did you both end up here?, “I can’t breath” you muster and it’s wheezy and you don’t want him to see you like this but you can’t really stop it.

“I just want to go home!” You sob lowering your head, giving up at the whole thing, feeling like a small child who just wants her mom, dropping to the floor, Charles joining you by your side.

And it’s quiet while you sob, and cry, hands on your face and he wants to hug you but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, but he places a hand on your thigh, tracing it up and down and it’s gentle and completely innocent while he does it, eventually you place your head in his shoulder it’s almost natural like an instinct and you feel your heart flutter when he places a soft kiss in your temple, “I can’t let you hurt me again Charles, I won’t make it.”

“I won’t” he whispers in your head, and it’s a promise, grabbing and intertwining your hand with his leaves a kiss in your knuckles and stares deep into your eyes. “I love you baby, please give me another chance.” You cry again because you want to believe him but you can’t , falling apart completely into his arms allowing him to wrap you into his embrace, tears staining his shirt, soaking him completely, his hands meeting your neck, now combing your hair through his rings and fingers.

“I didn’t deserve what you did to me” you whisper, still buried deep in this chest while he stared at you and nodded, because he knows it’s true, that you didn’t deserve everything that he did to you, he knows that he did wrong.

“I know that you didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserved any of it, that’s why I’m apologizing because I treated you so badly when all you did was being there for me, and that’s why I’m also asking you to please give me another chance so that I can prove to you that I’ll make it better, and that I’ll make it up to you for the rest of our lives, if you let me”

Part of you wants to believes him and I’m fact a part of you does, and it’s that part that crawls deep in your chest when you finally look at him, at those green eyes that you used to call home, but now are filled with tears and despair, but even then Charles still tries and smiles at you, and you can almost feel yourself crumble, because you remember the first time you ever saw him smile and thought that, that smile was the one that you wanted to see for the rest of your days, and suddenly you aren’t in the boat heartbroken and crying in his arms, but in your apartment together sitting on the counter tasting the pancakes he just made for you. You are in Monza getting so wasted that you can’t even walk so he has your high heels in hand carrying you in a bridal style back to your hotel room, you are in a simulator in Maranello sitting on his lap while he teaches you how to use it, you are by his side blasting a Taylor Swift song telling him how much you love him, you are kissing goodbye before he goes to another continent to race, you are in bed wearing his t-shirt, hugging him, crying on his arms like you are doing right now but because you saw a movie where a dog died, and you know that despite that everything that he ever did to you, you still love him.

That’s why you pull closer, both of your breaths becoming just one because of the proximity, noses touching completely while breathing heavily because neither of you pull away, Charles tugging a strand of hair behind your ear while cupping your cheek and your heart is beating just as fast as the car he drives for a living, his pupils dilated and you shouldn’t, you can’t.

But of course that he kisses you, and there’s stillness and hesitation because for a second you don’t don’t kiss him back because you are better than this and just when Charles thinks everything is lost, you kiss him back.

And his lips against yours it’s just as good as you remembered to be, and it’s soft and slow but also desperate and needy your back arching against him because the closeness is not enough, both of his hands in your back while yours are cupping his cheeks and neither of you can’t tell if you’re actually pulling or pushing away, and it’s magical and soothing and just as stomach twisting as it always was, even with your own tears mixing in the kiss, and you don’t ever want it, it to end.

So you kiss him, with all that you have whispering a breathy, “fuck.” Throwing your legs over his lap, foreheads touching while he smiles at you and you smile at him too, and it’s the happiest you’ve been in months.

“I missed this” Charles mutters softly against your lips and all you can do is nod, enjoying the gentle strokes in the naked part of your lower back still drunk in the whole thing. “I missed this too” and you kiss him back because it’s true, and the first thing you think is how were you able to survive this long with out it, without him.

You both stay there for the longest time, giggling and kissing and making up for the time lost, and it feels like before everything went to shit and you would be lying if you said that didn’t give you a shrink of hope.

You tell him about modeling, and how everything in your life work wise seems to be working out smoothly, you tell him about all the places you’ve been, and all the countries you’ve visit since you left each other, you tell him about parties and how you are kinda still drunk from last night. “Is that my fault?”, He asks shyly making you laugh softly.

“Well not really, when I got your text I was almost already pass out in the back of the club, I was just thinking about you yesterday” you confess, back against his chest, you’re both standing now against the rail of the boat. “um, I saw the race.” You say, playing with the rings in his fingers, his arms around your waist and his chin in your shoulder and you feel him sigh against you.

“You saw that huh” he mumbles in the crook of your neck, feeling the disappointment in himself in the tone of voice because you know him that well, you always have. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” You tell him, because it truly isn’t, because every time that the team fails him Charles feels like he’s the one that did.

“Doesn’t feel like it” he says pain clear in his voice. “Listen to me, Charles”, you turn around to face him, cupping his face in between his face, “I’ve been your number one hater for these past months, but please believe me when I tell you that that wasn’t your fault, even I can’t deny your talent, and if you need to believe someone, it’s me, I know you, more than Carlos, and Fred, and those reporters and engineers, I know you, and I know for a fact that you are gifted and talented, and that what happened was most definitely not your fault, okay?”

You tell him, still with your hands in his face, shaking him playfully so it enters his stubborn head while smiling jokingly.

“I believe you” he tells you, because it’s you and if there’s someone that can make him believe something it’s you, so he kisses you again, lips crashing against yours once again, loving and hungry and he wants to have you for the rest of his life.

“Soooo…” he begins again, playing with the fabric of your dress at the end of your naked back and just above the curve of your ass.

“…does this mean you’ll give me another chance?”

He drops the one million dollar question, with both your hearts still beating the fastest they can, and you’ve pictured this very exact moment a thousands times in the past few months and you’re shaking because it’s all you’ve ever wanted but even better, and fuck you love him, and his green earthshaking eyes, and his smile that’s every dentist dream, and the way that his lips feel against yours and the way his hands fit perfectly in the curve of your waist and intertwined with your hand, and you love him even when you hate him even when you just were crying because of him not even a hour ago, and is breathtakingly frustrating in the best way possible.

And so you throw your hands behind his head playing with his hair just like you always used to do, “Baby…” and you know the answer even before it can even come out of your lips.

“When we get off this boat I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again.” And it hits Charles like a brick in the face, because yes you love him, with everything that you have in you, but sometimes love isn’t enough and you know that in this point of your lives he can’t give you what you want, what you deserve even, that in the long run it’ll never work out because how could you trust him? Trust that he won’t hurt you again? After it took him almost three months to figure out that he can’t live without you? Because you’ll never look at him with the same eyes again, because you’re not who you used to be, because you are just two ghosts standing in the graveyard of your relationship, mourning what what I’ll never be again.

After that everything it’s foggy, you don’t know if it is because of how hard you’re trying to hold off the tears, because he’s crying at your feet, and it aches you, because he’s begging at you face deep into you, holding you so tightly you don’t even know how to think straight.

“Baby please don’t do this to me, please” he sobs against you, tears sliding freely through wetting your clothes completely with his now red face and you wonder if he felt this awful when he left you just a few months ago.

“If you ever loved m—“ you sob inevitably without even looking at him because you don’t think you’ll be able to take it, “if you ever loved— me like you say you did, you’ll respect my decision, it’s the least you can do for me” you say between tears and sobs before walking away and you think that it might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

But letting go of you it’s actually the hardest thing Charles ever done too, but at the end of the day all he ever wanted was for you to be happy, even when if it’s not with him, even when he doesn’t know what he’ll do with his life now that the smallest bit of hope that he had, was just crush right in front of him.

He loves you and he thinks that it might kill him, he thinks it’s the biggest piece of karma he’s ever gotten, because even though he’s never loved you more, you don’t want to see him again and if it’s what you want, it’s what he’ll do, because part of loving it’s letting go, right?

When you get off the boat and into your car you cry like you’ve never done before, but you know that you’ll be okay, that you’ll do everything to be so.

That you’ll even do as if you never even met Charles Leclerc because it might have been better that way, and you’ll go day by day trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat without him in your life.

THE END.

————

TAGLIST (everyone who asked for a pt2) [@ushygushybaby @beesbadger @tempo-rary-fix @honethatty12 @jollysaladprunefriend @leclerc16s @haydee5010 @taurussbabe @nmw-am @mycenterfold]

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 oneshot #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc one shot #f1 fic #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #f1 imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x oc #f1 2023 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #Ferrari fanfic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 11 hours ago

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Yesterday, we saw a tiny floating home in Canada for $500k. Today, I came across this 1997 houseboat in Boston, MA. It has 2bds, 2ba, 900 sq ft, for $399k.

You can pull it up beside the doc and tie it, so it's like a floating house.

The outdoor deck is very large, and on the roof of the boat. Part of it is covered.

And, the other half is open. They have a hammock and some beach chairs where you can get the sun. This deck is 800 sq ft, so there's plenty of room for entertaining.

It's on the lovely Boston Main Channel waterfront right next to the Charlestown Naval Shipyard Park.

It has a nice cozy living room.

Roomy dining area and full-size kitchen with a dishwasher. This is a lot more for less.

The floating home had a lofted sleep area, but this houseboat has 2 full bedrooms. This bedroom has a closet with a washer/dryer.

The 2nd bedroom has sliders to a private deck with stairs to go up to the rooftop.

Bath #1 is fully tiled in a nice blue.

And, here's bedroom and bath #2. This bath is quite large.

Plus, a bonus room that can be used as an office.

This is a nice enclosed deck that could be very pretty with plants and wicker furniture.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1-E-Pier-Dr-13-Boston-MA-02128/2055047115_zpid/?

#houseboats #houses #house tours #home tour

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ohbo-ohno · 11 months ago

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This is a bit dark, feel free not to respond to this. But I'm thinking of a world where Werewolf!Simon meets Johnny in the middle of the woods.

Like, picture this:

Johnny recently got hired to work in Canada as a fire lookout. In the wilderness, it reminds him of back home: mountains rise and fall, covered in trees and rivers and whatever else crawls around under the cover of darkness.

It's a peaceful yet lonely job, where he gets to sketch out whatever he finds most interesting that day, plays games on the handheld console he brought with him, and doomscrolls online. Mundane. But the daily chatter with fellow lookout, Kyle, and the nearby ranger station, Price, held over the radio make It enjoyable.

One day, though, Kyle tells him of a story he heard from Price, of the monsters of myth walking the earth. of how, sometimes, the Rangers will encounter something they simply can't describe: a little girl walking backwards, floating ethereal lights, and the constant howling of a lone wolf, the size of which has been described as simply monstrous.

Johnny didn't think too much about it of course, he's heard enough tales in Scotland to scoff at what Kyle tells him. But then Price, usually serious, corroborates the stories. Tells him Rangers have a special guide to deal with things like that.

If you see the girl, toss her a coin and she'll leave. If you see the lights, turn away. And if you see the wolf, you should hold your head low, bow, and hope he leaves ou alone.

Johnny still thinks it's a joke, an elaborate ale to freak out the newbies.

Then, in the middle of the night, he wakes from the loud howl ringing through the forest. That's not what's strange: the wolf always howls. The problem is that the howl is nearly deafening from so close.

He rises from his bed, and crouches out of sight, paranoid that the wolf is watching him from the windows. He's too high up, he knows it makes no sense, and yet Kyle has successfully freaked him out. He crawls towards the door and makes sure it's locked, before peaking out.

It's too dark, he can't see anything. The howling has stopped though, which freaks him out to duck back down.

He makes his way to the main desk, opens the PC, and checks the camera feed on the bottom of the tower.

He can't see anything: the night is too dark, especially since there's no moon out tonight.

He debates turning in the flood lights, but for some reason, he doesn't want to scare it away, at least not now.

He wants to know what it is, first. Maybe it's just a regular old wolf, and he doesn't want to scare it half to death for simply howling too close to Johnny- how would it know there's a scared human up the metal tower?

So, he clicks the little switch to turn on night vision. The screen freezes for a second, and then the green hued images flood him.

It's a man.

Tall, compared to the tree he's standing besides, further away into the foliage.

His arms are preportionally longer than they should be, hairy and muscled. His feet are covered by some bushes, but from he Furr crawling up his legs, Johnny can guess he's standing on a beasts hind legs.

His face is that of a wolf.

Slowly, the man leans his head to the sky and a howl echoes through the woods.

Johnny quietly barracads his door with tables and chairs and whatever else, he locks the windows, puts the blinds down on them, and is attached to his feed.

It's horrifying, but he has to keep watching the creature- man (?) As he stalks the towers, sniffs around.

He almost dozes off when he first head it: the scrape of something sharp on metal. Scrape. Scrape. It's rithmic. Like steps.

Johnny jolts, and switches cameras.

It's walking up the stairs.

To Johnny.

Oh god.

(And then Ghost finds him and bursts through and then ghost turns back into a human and then fuks the sweet-smelling man he found)

I ran out of brain juice sorry 🗑️

trash you NEED an ao3 or a blog to just post this in the ghoap tag omgggg i LOVE IT

#but i have nothing to add #fucking fantastic concept though i love it sm #🗑️ anon #asks and answers #ghoap

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tsarisfanfiction · 8 months ago

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Absent No More

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Apollo, Cabin Seven Not much changed, after Zeus was destroyed, but for a certain group of people, they got the change they'd always wanted. TOApril day 3 - Divine Intervention! Some credit goes to @fearlessinger for today's prompt interpretation, because she was the one to suggest the Ancient Laws, so here we are!

Most things didn’t change. It was weird, for the mortals in the know, the demigods that knew the king of the gods was gone forever, that Olympus was without her ruler. It felt like there should be some sign that things had changed, but rain still fell, lightning still lashed across the sky, and whatever power vacuum may or may not have been going on in Olympus never touched their lives at all.

If not for the gap in the original horseshoe of the twelve Olympic cabins, where cabin one had once stood, they could almost, almost forget that Zeus was gone.

Except for one thing. One small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, barely worth a mention, hardly a footnote in the story of the Olympian uprising and subsequent consequences.

Small and insignificant to most, but not to all. To some people, great in number but barely a splash in the ocean that was the human population of the world, it was huge, on a scale they’d never dared to dream before. For many of them, it was all they’d ever wanted.

For the woman in South Korea with her own dance studio that accepted students of any age and taught some of them how to turning fighting dances into fighting, it was the helper that regularly came by to give all her students an extra bit of guidance. It was suggestions on who needed more help, or dance props that happened to include aspects of certain rare, celestial metals.

For the man in Canada, it was procedures that went perfectly and the doctor that never left his side, holding his hand as he woke up slowly with the knowledge that he was never going to feel sick if he caught sight of his bare body in a mirror again. It was celebrations and affirmations and whole-hearted acceptance, gentle hugs light enough not to agitate still-healing flesh but firm enough to be all-encompassing anyway.

For the royal bowman in Scotland, it was the company he found waiting at home after a long day of practice, either parade or combat, with a warm meal and chores all already done. It was hair ruffles and a large, bright smile, and the soothing of aching muscles with simple touches.

For the librarian in Germany, it was the patron that came by every day, smile as bright as the sun and always a stack of books to return. It was long conversations on authors, on recommendations, and the fresh stack of books checked out at the end of the day, right before she clocked out to go home, and the way she was always walked to her door.

For the actress pulling long hours to make ends meet, it was the dedicated make-up artist that always ended up working on her, no matter the role, and told her stories as she watched her transformation in the mirror. It was the way the ugly scar on her face from where she’d once tried to fight for what was right never counted against her in auditions, and smoothed away to nothing with a simple touch of foundation.

For the lawyer that had had to fight every step of the way to her position because of her gender and the colour of her skin, it was the assistant that floated past her office every day to bring her drinks and make sure the case notes were always in order, even when her dyslexia made her want to throw them out the window. It was forced breaks and warm rolls straight from the oven of her favourite bakery for no reason other than being loved.

For the brothers that played basketball for opposing teams because their greatest challenge had always been the other, it was the cheering in the crowd for both of them equally, because no matter how serious it got it was still just a game, and family didn’t pick sides. It was post-match celebratory drinks, always on the tab, no matter the result, just because.

For the doctor it was the shoulder to try on whenever he had to give a patient bad news, when all the training and skill in the world couldn’t spare patients trauma. It was the way he never, ever got sick despite the near constant exposure to illnesses, so he could always be there to give others the best care possible.

For the farmer that had fled from war to raise sheep instead, it was dawn wake-up calls and an extra pair of hands when the animals couldn’t settle. It was lambs surviving their birthing and thriving even when other farms struggled with high mortality rates and animals struggling to adapt to the ever-shifting environment.

For the poet tearing her hair out over her latest publishing deal, it was soothing hands massaging away the headache while a melodic voice recited her writing back at her, assuring her that her words were flawless. It was the way the deals always made it through, in the end, and made her enough money that she never had to give it up in order to find another, better, job to make ends meet.

For the healer surrounded by children with weapons they were still learning to use, it was a helping hand in the infirmary, and a bright hug when the last mischievous teenager that had thought they knew how to handle weapons better than they did was gone. It was falling asleep during nighttime vigils and waking up with the sun to find blankets and golden company keeping watch while he rested.

For the saxophonist it was the accompanying instrumentalist giving him a proud grin that had teeth too white to be natural as he came off stage, because the performance had gone off without a hitch, and the second, private recital for just the two of them. It was the way his instruments always stayed perfect and in-tune, never suffering misfortune on journeys from venue to venue.

For the Olympic champion it was a beaming face in the crowd as she won competition after competition, toppling world records and making them her own, and two male voices proudly claiming her as their daughter for the world to hear. It was one-on-one shooting, where they did things most mortals didn’t dream could be done with a bow and laughed the whole way through.

For the historian always finding themselves in the deepest depths of archives, it was the gentle light that was always bright enough to read by, but never damaged the precious manuscripts they poured over. It was the listening ear as they recited what they’d discovered, to make sense of it, and the quiet confirmations of someone that had been there when the history had been written – or knew someone who had.

For the bowler who also picked up a bat, because not everyone in the team could bowl but they all had to be able to hit the ball, it was the perfect lighting whenever he made the run, always in his favour and never in the batsman’s. It was the same person catching the ball over and over, when he hit a six and it sailed into the crowd.

For the drum teacher, it was the way she always had new students signing up to learn whenever she had a vacancy, eager to learn from her. It was the way she could always talk about them, celebrating when they worked hard and got to where they wanted to be with their music, or asking for help when a student was struggling and she didn’t quite know how to help them, knowing that there was always help available for her.

For Apollo’s children, whatever walks of life they ended up taking, it was their godly father finally being there in their waking hours as well as their dreams, wherever and whenever they needed them. They’d always known they were loved, but knowing it and experiencing it, it turned out, were two entirely different things, and while he never explained exactly why he’d started being more around after his own father’s destruction, they all had their suspicions.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril 2024 #pjo apollo #cabin seven #will solace #austin lake #kayla knowles #toa yan #toa jerry #toa gracie #tsari writes fanfiction

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