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dreamwatch · 6 months ago

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What a way to make a livin'

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May warm-up round.

****

Being the youngest often meant being the last to do things within his peer group.

He was the last to get a driver’s license, so they fell into a routine of Eddie and Jeff driving them everywhere. Long tiring drive after a gig? Not for Gareth. He’s sleeping in the back, thank you very much.

He knows Jeff and Eddie have lost their virginity, because all they ever fucking do is talk about it. Gareth’s still on the waiting list for that particular life experience. (Matt is secretive at the best of times so the jury is out there.)

And of course, he was the last to graduate. He felt so guilty about that because they waited for him, even Eddie, who was living off cigarettes and caffeine and desperate to get the fuck away from a place where people still wanted him dead.

Despite all that, somehow Gareth was the first to get a job when they moved to Indianapolis. Maybe it was his winsome charm, or his youthful good looks, or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as fussy as the three fucking princesses he lives with now.

So yeah, it’s a Taco Bell, not something to shout about, but it’s a fucking job, okay? Rent in Indy is absolutely insane, even for their shitty two-bed apartment in a shitty neighbourhood, and they’re burning through the money they saved to get here. Eddie managed to get them a couple of gigs lined up, but only one is paying and it’s not paying much. They’ll be lucky to have enough to buy a round of beers. Not that he’s old enough to drink one. Officially.

Has Gareth been cagey about where he works? Fuck yes; he wanted to delay the inevitable shit he was going to get from Huey, Dewy and Louie. He couldn’t avoid them forever but if he could just get through the first couple of weeks…

His back is turned when the bell above the door chimes and when he spins around he’s wearing his best customer service smile.

“Hi, welcome to Taco— oh fuck me.”

“Is that on the menu?�� says Eddie with a shit-eating grin. He approaches the counter and slaps his hands down on it, while Jeff, the traitor, stands beside him laughing.

Gareth leans forward across the counter and hisses, “You can’t be here, assholes. Fuck off.”

“Now, now,” says Eddie gleefully, “that’s no way to talk to a customer.”

“You’re not a customer!”

“I could be.”

“Are you gonna buy anything?”

“Depends.” Eddie gets his battered wallet out, the same one he’s had since high school when Gareth was a freshman. “What can I get for… sixty-seven cents?”

Gareth halfway turns and points at the menu above him. “Pintos and cheese. Or a Mountain Dew. Take your pick. And quickly.”

Eddie’s lip curls in disgust, and Gareth’s about to tell them both to fuck off when the familiar tinkle of the bell chimes again and finally, a paying customer, but… no, of course not. Because now Matt’s here to give him more shit. And just why fucking not at this point?

He’s so going to get fired.

“I thought you said you worked in a restaurant?” Matt sneers.

“This is a restaurant,” Gareth replies, his patience hanging by a fucking thread.

“Ah, no, it’s a Taco Bell.”

“Which is part of a chain of restaurants.” He can see his manager hovering on the other side of the kitchen; if he loses his job on the first week then fuck ‘em, he’s going back to Hawkins because he’s already sick of ramen noodles.

He’s not going back to Hawkins.

“Do you get an employee discount?”

“No, Jeffrey, I do not.”

“It’s definitely not a restaurant.”

“Jesus Christ, will you all just please leave? How did you even know where I worked?”

Eddie’s still checking his wallet for hidden coins. “The shitty brown uniform on the floor of your room was a dead giveaway.” He looks up and points at Gareth’s chest. “You know it says Taco Bell right there?”

“Is there a problem over here?”

Fuck. Gareth’s boss, Kenny, a guy who can’t have been out of high school for much longer than he has, wanders over eyeing the Three Amigos suspiciously.

Jeff grabs his own wallet. “Actually, your employee, ” he leans forward squinting at Gareth’s chest dramatically, “Gareth here, was helping us choose from your menu.” Jeff leans forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “I look after these guys, take them out for the day sometimes. They’re a little…” he taps his temple, “you know?”

“Hey!” shouts Eddie. It takes everything Gareth’s got not to laugh.

Kenny’s glare softens as he looks between Matt and Eddie. “Right, yeah, I see it now.”

“Mother fu— ow!”

“It’s really great what you’re doing, man,” says Kenny. “Order whatever you like, it’s on the house.” Before he heads back to the kitchen he pats Gareth on the shoulder. “Great job.”

Matt shoves Jeff in the back. “What the fuck was that?”

“Got you free food, didn’t it?”

Gareth bags up their orders. “Now go home. Actually, don’t go home - go and look for a job, all of you!”

Matt snatches his bag and turns with a hurried “See ya later” which Gareth doesn’t even get a chance to reply to. Eddie, mouth full of Mountain Dew, waves a hand before heading toward the door.

Jeff lingers for a second. “Proud of you, man.”

Gareth can’t keep the smile off his face. It’s just a stupid job, but it’s his first. And if the band takes off, hopefully, please please god, the last.

He’s about to serve his next customer when he hears Eddie singing at the top of his voice.

“She works hard for the money, duh de duh, so hard for it honey, duh de duh…”

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath. “Oh, sorry, ma’am, not you. Uh… can I take your order?”

****

Did I look for an 80's Taco Bell menu to see what Eddie could get for sixty-seven cents? Yes, yes I did.

And let's gloss over the fact that Freak was Ben in my last fic... I'm trying out names, I'll retcon everything afterwards. 😂

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #Freak but I'm calling him Matt for now #lets see how long that lasts #st fanfic #corroded coffin fanfic #my writing

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aviandtheseals · 1 year ago

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The Rowntrees Ultimate Decades Challenge - 1362

Content warning: child death (fake children it's the sims)

In 1362, the Rowntrees were mostly focused on making money and keeping up with their rent and taxes. However, lucky (and unlucky) birthdays still managed to strike.

The chickenpox was still hitting Jacquette and Ursula hard in the winter of 1362, and they were both agonized. As the weeks went on Jacquette began slowly recovering, but Ursula just seemed to get sicker and sicker.

Ursula became so tired she would randomly pass out. The family took Ursula to one of the wise elders in the village, who said what they already knew in the back of their minds: Ursula's little body was not strong enough to survive this disease. The family concentrated on making Ursula's last months of life as happy as possible.

Sarah played with her, and she got to spend a lot of time with her sister Jacquette.

One night at the beginning of spring, Ursula peacefully passed away during her sleep. The entire family mourned. Of course, young kids dying was common, but after Alexandria died during Ursula's birth, little Ursula was one of the only signs of hope in the Rowntrees' lives.

Jacquette was especially affected by the death. After that day, she became much quieter than she was before, and preferred to be by herself. She greatly missed her best friend. The family hoped her grief would heal as time went on.

One of Sarah's greatest comforts during this difficult time was Gilbert. Together they discussed their future, and they both decided to work hard and make as much money as possible. Perhaps if they were both bringing more money to a marriage, their families would agree to let them wed. This inspired Sarah to work hard on the farm.

Running the household became harder, since Kymmie spent most of her days in the lord's castle, cleaning and cooking. When Kymmie was home she made woodworks and tended to the garden. Sarah was left to take care of Jacquette and Finnian. To help the family make money, she took on candle-making. Even Finnian helped by taking care of his beloved chickens.

Everyone's hard work paid off, and the family was able to open a small store in the fall. They sold their eggs, fish, wood sculptures, and candles. It finally seemed like they were on a good path financially for the first time since Arthur's death.

Considering the success of the business, Sarah decided to have a serious sit-down conversation with Kymmie about her future with Gilbert. With the store's profits and her existing dowry, Sarah could soon marry if she wished.

When she first met Gilbert, Kymmie was unhappy about Sarah potentially marrying someone, because of her negative experience being married to Sarah's father David. However, Kymmie became an adult that spring, and being 30 gave her a new perspective. All her life the people she loved constantly died. How did she survive that? Concentrating on her own happiness. And if marrying would make Sarah happy, she should. Kymmie relayed this wisdom to her stepdaughter.

Kymmie and Sarah agreed that for the next year, they would work on getting Isaac to agree to the marriage. Sarah would get a dowry of $1000, about 1/2 of the money saved up, and the rest would go to Jacquette and Finnian if they reached adulthood. And Kymmie would be glad to support whatever life decision made Sarah happy. Sarah was ecstatic, because $1000 and Gilbert's inheritance would allow them to get their own plot of land. The future looked bright.

#child death mention #tw death #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #the rowntrees 1360s #the rowntrees #sims 4 historical #ts4 #ts4 historical #ts4 story #ts4 simblr #ultimate decades challenge #udc #ts4 ultimate decades challenge

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wthtorke · 3 years ago

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Presence.

Angst with a happy ending for @death0core !

Big Mama x Reader, 1755 words, warning for violence, blood etc

Hope you like it!

At first, you hadn't really given Big mama much credit in the emotional department.

You met in about the worst way possible when she stopped her wandering about the galaxy to answer to your distress signal on a planet that was crawling with aliens. With xenomorphs, you'd later come to know.

She saved your day and dropped you and the other, very frightened, 6 people who survived at the nearest space station. Bid you goodbye with a single nod of her head and went on her way.

"Is that all?" You thought, hugging your own arms to stop their shaking and bleeding from the slashing wound on your left arm. An alien-, a yautja had just saved your life, but not a word was traded, not one kind gesture, not one "are you well?", things didn't….happen like that.

You frowned to yourself, thinking about it hard while the station's security team contacted your company to come to pick you up. You'd heard a lot about yautjas, you could consider yourself lucky one of them even helped but-, wasn't there always something more? Weren't you supposed to talk? Become friends? Maybe?

You recall her big form sat on her chair at the cockpit, big hands never leaving the controllers at the panel, gaze never turning back to check on you or the other humans huddled at the back of her ship. It was so….cold, distant. You don't share it with anyone, you knew the emotional support you needed wouldn't come from an alien, but you heard so many stories about them, stories about humans and yautjas who found comfort in each other, the human finding stability while the yautja found kindness and understanding.

Where had your stability gone to, after she nodded at you and left?

You suck it up well enough, the weight of being a survivor crushed on you. You were alone the whole process, nobody cared.

In the end, after explaining time and time again what happened to your company, after going through countless interviews where you relived the attack time and time again, you were fired.

It wasn't fair, definitely not. Another blow to your mental health that had you clinging to anything to whatever little comfort you could. You gather your things and the credits from your last job with them, plus the 'don't talk about the attack' money they bribed you with. It was either the credits or disappearing after a week as it happened with one of your fellow survivors who refused the money. You just wanted to leave.

You shut down when you get on a commercial flight somewhere, getting real rest for the first time in god knows how long. You had no idea where the last stop was, but you'd only get down there.

Ironically enough, you find yourself descending the ramp and find the exact same view you did when she rescued you. The same space station. Andromeda.

It takes a couple of shoves from people behind you to get you to move, clutching your bag close as you make your way out there. You had enough credits to get you a break, you didn't need to work right away-, but being alone was too much to bear, so you rent a small apartment and get to find a job.

Weeks pass and you're now working on the maintenance of the station, the orange jumpsuit, and a card with your name hanging at your pocket granting you access just about anywhere. You still feel odd. The friends you make are shallow almost, with no real connections outside of your work. You work, get home, eat, shower and sleep, waking up to work more the next day. Being too tired makes you not dream, it's what you strive for, keeps the nightmares at bay.

You're wanted at the hangar one morning, there's something wrong with one of the docking slots, so you take your toolbox and walk up to it. The ship that tried to dock on it docks on the side one. You'd recognize the ship anywhere, though the last time you saw it was in this same port, flying away from you.

You blink a couple of times, setting your toolbox near the broken dock’s panels, crouching down to mess with it, though you make no further move, waiting for her to show up. Waiting for her to leave the ship. Soon enough, the ship’s ramp lowers and the internal hatch lifts with loud mechanical noises and some steam blowing from the exhaust pipes of the ship.

You hear the steps before she comes into view, same armor, same mask, though both now bore more marks than you remembered. It was her. Big Mama. At first, you didn’t know her name, not even that information came to you without some asking around, the station’s head of security, a human woman with scars similar to yours said her name. Her human name.

‘Big mama’, you thought, scoffing at the time. That name implied some type of motherly instinct, you had found none within her. Still, you bit your lip when she made her way down her ship’s ramp, messing with what you also came to know was a wrist gauntlet. Should you talk to her? You didn’t know. Back on the rescue, she didn’t answer you, even if she had, would you have known what she was saying? Maybe not, but her efforts would have meant something. Anything.

You touch the translator lodged into your ear channel. Every staff member had one, no matter what area they worked in the station. You could try again, maybe this time she would listen and answer? You look down at your toolbox, frowning. What would you even say to her? Tell her how you wished she had stuck around and what? Held your hand through everything? You already felt silly enough thinking an alien who saved you should have cared more. All of this was so fucking stupid.

“Human.”

Your head shoots up again, Big Mama stood beside you.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times like a fish out of water, trying to find the words to answer to her. What was happening? Could she always speak your language? Why didn’t she back then? Why now?.... Did she really remember you at all?

“I-, yes, hello?” You say, still unsure.

Her mask tuns slightly, towards your left arm. “I wondered if it had healed well.” She says, the voice is robotic, almost like an AI, words mashed together to create phrases. You frown again, confused, “Why would you care?” It’s a genuine question, not meant to be snappy or angry, you really needed to know.

She crosses her arms, “I tried looking for you, when I came back, you were gone.” She says as you get up from your crouching, “Came back? What do you mean?” Your heartbeat faster at her words, that chest tightness that came with anxiety crushing your chest from inside out. “My bio mask had a malfunction when I found your distress signal, I was returning to get it fixed when I brought you here.” She explains, your heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“So, what’s why you didn’t say anything? Your-, I thought you just…didn’t care? You left us here so we thought that was it, the station helped us contact the corporation and they sent another ship to get us.” You say, Big Mama’s mask nodding as you speak.

“I got my mask fixed and returned to you, without it fixed I couldn’t communicate to anyone that wasn’t one of my kind. I can’t speak your language.” she continues, “I thought you had perished from your wounds, an infection maybe, but I was informed other humans came to transfer you somewhere, but they wouldn’t tell me where to.”

You run your hand through your face, a cold sweat running down your cheek, “The company demanded we don’t speak of the occurrence, I made a deal and everything-, they must have informed the station to keep their mouths shut, I-, I couldn’t imagine you’d return, I had no idea-, you had no reason to.” You say, as bitter as that makes you feel, it’s the truth.

Big Mama shakes her head, “You survived a serpent attack, you told me at your ship that you managed to take down two but there were many others-,” Your eyes widen, “How do you know if your mask wasn’t working?”

She taps the edge of her mask, where three red dots rest in the shape of a triangle, you recall her using it to shoot the things, “I recorded everything, should the rescue fail, my people needed to know what happened, later I translated your words. I already had plans to return, but after knowing what you were saying, I knew I had to find you again.” She says. “You are a human hunter, deserver of bearing my people’s mark for your success. But your wellbeing is not of my interest for that fact.”

You freeze. “My-, wellbeing? Then why-?”

Big mama shakes her head, “I wish things were different in how they happened, had you been here when I returned, we could have talked.” She says, “You wouldn’t have been alone.”

At this, you feel tears well up in your eyes. She cared, all this time and you had no idea. Things could have been just how you wanted if fate wasn’t so cruel. “I wished you were here so bad-, I don’t know why I got so attached to you but I did-, I-,” you rub at your eyes, wiping the tears away, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Big Mama nods, “I had also lost hopes of knowing your whereabouts….but it seems the gods have not wanted so.” she says, extending her hand to you, “From now on you shall not be alone. You have in me a partner, I will support you in your healing.” You grab her hand, her fingers alone engulfing your smaller hand, for the first time in months you smile, a relieved smile, full of hope.

Big Mama sticks around the station for a couple of weeks while you work, coming back and forth from hunts and missions until you both decide it’s time to move on. You quit your job at the station, looking at it one last time before making your way up to Big Mama’s ship, your bag slung on your shoulder, ready for your future with her.

#yautja #female yautja #Yautjas #yautja x human #yautja/human #human/yautja #big mama #big mama predator #the predator #alien vs predator #Alien #Headcanon #alien relationship #predators #predator #gender neutral reader #reader #female reader

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

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I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

#mlb x dc #maribat #platonic daminette #bio!dad au #Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne #sibling Daminette #angst #heavy angst #hurt no comfort #or very little comfort anyway #ml x dc #platonic brucinette #twin AU

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luvnami · 3 years ago

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𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery.

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea.

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin.

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters.

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind.

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile.

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone.

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more?

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets.

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream.

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so.

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first.

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet.

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice.

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies.

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land.

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks.

“Hey,” Nanami says.

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow.

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?”

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you.

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh.

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches.

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket.

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange.

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace.

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?”

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges.

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face.

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean.

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his.

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out.

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home.

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work.

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it.

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?”

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror.

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor.

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa.

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt.

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions.

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind.

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be.

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?”

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless.

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen.

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school.

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!”

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways.

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark.

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?”

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip.

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?”

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion.

“It’s good!”

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like?

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper.

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively.

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return.

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper.

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank.

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

Note

So serious question albeit random. Advice on quitting a job with no back up plan? Or just thoughts? I’m seriously dreading going back to work tomorrow. I audibly gasped when I saw tuxedo cat drabble and it has been the only shining beacon of my day. 🥴🥴🥴

Financial independence is important, both in order to have the necessities and/or disposable income. Planning for and having reasonable financial independence relieves a lot of stress in life. It should not come at the expense of your physical / mental health.

I would not advise quitting your job without some sort of plan. If you are at a point that you have saved enough money to last you about 3-6 months (covering everything, rent, utilities, food, etc), then that is the best scenario to quit cold turkey. However, depending on the economy and where you live, such a thing might be impossible. Heck, even saving money in it of itself might be impossible right now. If you have someone in your life (parent(s), spouse, friend(s), etc) willing to front your cost of living while you are looking for a new job, then that could be an option. However, such is a privilege, and not everyone is lucky enough to be in that situation.

A job could be but does not have to be your passion. That being said, I do understand there are many factors that could make your job unbearable: bad management, shitty co-workers and/or customers, poor working conditions, etc. Some money is better than no money. It really depends on how bad it is. If your life / health is being compromised, then those are reasons to leave ASAP.

You can do the bare minimum at your current job while looking for other options (did I just say that? *whistles*). You might get lucky and find a better opportunity elsewhere. You may have to take something of lower pay for a while if only to protect your mental / physical health. Personally, a good work atmosphere is more important to me than how much money I make. Still, I would have some sort of back-up plan if I wanted to change careers, either pursuing further education to get a better job or having another job lined up so I don't have a gap in income.

Sadly, living costs money... TㅅT

There is a saying, "Choose a job you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life". I call bullshit. Even people who love their jobs have days where they are tired and just wanna go home. XD There will be days that feel like work and that's okay. That's life. It all depends on how you look at it. Work-life balance is different for everyone. Some things that may be your deal-breakers are simply minor inconveniences for others. It is important to find a job where you are comfortable and where it doesn't constantly stress you out.

But don't stress yourself out either, dreaming for an ideal rather than keeping your options open. Many people stumble upon their jobs / careers by accident, giving something "random" a chance. You never know, right?

Here's what I think. Work doesn't feel like work when you find people that you love working with. If the actual job itself becomes stressful, having people who understand and help you shoulder that turns a shitty situation into a funny story later. Keep an eye out for those that you want to work with during your next job hunt.

You will feel much better when you have a plan on what you want to do - learn a trade, go back to higher education, switch jobs, etc. If you need a temporary solution to get out of your current situation, look for a seasonal / temp job. There are many options available and, although they might not be desirable at the moment, it may be better than your current experience.

Cat-man Yoongi is always here to help, right?

... RIght?

*pokes tuxedo!Yoongi*

He grunts and rolls over, ignoring me.

Well.

I think that means yes. XD

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v3nusaphr0d1t3 · 4 years ago

Text

i’m in love with a stripper

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: mature warnings: strip club environment, suggestive themes (no actual smut tho) gender neutral stripper!reader x hawks. afab implied but can be read either way.

your job was to look good, feel bad, and entertain. in the most literal sense.

life as an ‘exotic dancer’ wasn’t nearly as glamorous as movies and shit made it out to be. your body ached constantly, you had nearly fought about 4 people in the past two weeks, and you came home in the morning smelling like alcohol and sweat and some random cologne. the pay wasn’t amazing on its own, so you had to rut yourself against old men to pay your rent.

and yet, it was addicting in a way you couldn’t exactly explain. you had wanted to work in the entertainment industry since you were little, a star up on the big screen. this was sort-of similar. you had eyes on you at all times, and it was your job to put on a great show. but instead of red-carpets it was party favors and gross back-room carpeting.

it was good workout, and you knew you looked good enough to taste, so that was always a plus. tonight, you were all dolled up, one of your more femme looks. your shorts were riding low on your hips, yet still stopped so high on your legs that it could be considered more of a belt than a pair of shorts. your thong straps framed your hips, bright red in comparison to the blue jean shorts. you had a red bikini top on, and a crop top that was yet again just another shred of fabric framing it. your shoes were red and tall enough to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

you had gotten used to the sashay and drama of all the bullshit presentation, perfected your sultry stare, and polished your pole skills. yes, you could use work. but so could everyone, it was an art that you were still constantly trying to learn more about.

so as you walked your way out on stage on a busy friday night, you could tell that tonight would be a good tip night. first off, there was MUCH more security than normal, which meant that someone important was probably in attendance for some kind of ‘special night’. they got bachelor parties and birthday parties all the time, but usually they weren’t this… guarded?

it was strange, but you instead focused on feelings the rhythm in your bones as you strutted your way up to the pole, starting to go into one of your choreographed routines that you knew like the back of your hand. though you supposed you could throw in some more risky moves, for whoever was currently paying for your console gaming subscription. being in the air was always exhilarating, but you were always worried about flashing too much. you knew that it would happen eventually, but you would still prefer for it not to.

you spun too fast on your way down and got that wobbling feeling in your stomach as your heels hit the stage a bit too hard to be ‘graceful’. oh well, you thought as you moved to the more floor-based part of your routine. you brought your hands up, running them over your body and pulling at your crop top, pulling it off and throwing it further back on the stage to be retrieved when you were done with your set.

you made it slow, teasing, swaying your hips to the beat of the song and running your hands back down, under the strings of your thong to snap them against your hips. it was effective, but it was hard not to wince in annoyance. you were too salty to do this shit. it was a lucky thing that you were so good at acting. you slid further onto your knees, back arched as you looked some random guy that was halfway decent and crawled forward. that was something that always racked in tips. it made folks feel engaged with the whole experience. the guy held up a 20 and you stuck it under your thong strap, moving to collect more of the money that had been thrown at you.

you were honest with yourself when you said you loved the attention that this job brought. there were many people out in the crowd that wanted you, that sat in their chair or stood amongst the sweaty crowd with a white-knucked grip and lust in their eyes, and you ate it up. you loved being wanted, it was one of the worlds wonders.

eventually, you finished your set, hair tousled from flipping it, back of your knees and your hands sore from gripping the pole, but ultimately you felt invigorated. energized. like someone had wound you up like a toy. and now you had to pounce on someone in hopes of attention and the money you needed to buy that new game you had been saving up for. comical.

you could tell a bunch of the dancers were anticipating the party that was in tonight. it was obvious they were important, and important people had money. so the dancers that weren’t on the stage currently were prowling around the VIP area, looking to advertise themselves.

you decided to do the charity work and tend to the rest of the forgotten crowd. you knew from experience that eventually the richer guests would get tired of giving their money away and eventually leave. and the rest of the crowd was just sitting there, so you slipped your way in to the seats that were closer to the stage (shitty stripper etiquette, but some of thesen dancers were fuckin’ shady sometimes) and found some dude who looked wimpy enough to play the whole deity act with.

you walked your way around the chair, placing your hands on his shoulders and beginning to rub them, your hand making it’s way down his chest as you whispered a greeting in his ear. you used your other hand to run through his hair, plucking the bill in his hand out of his hand and into your g string on your hip with the rest of them. you moved back around the chair and plopped down on his lap, feigning interest and asking him about his day, making him feel special with the whole shebang. you eventually were able to make quiet some money from that guy, surprisingly. and you left him alone and unsatisfied when the lights dimmed between sets.

now, to find someone else out of sight of the first guy. you were on your way to do that when something caught your eye. a glimmer of gold, no- not metal, someones eyes. you were momentarily mesmerized before you realized that the person attached to those honey irises was staring at you. at you. from the VIP booth. while you were in the middle of the crowd. you were never flustered, so it was new when you felt a heat in your cheeks.

you quickly put your act back on, throwing him a wink. he made a ‘come here’ motion with his finger, but you gave him a playful grin and a little teasing wave of dismissal. you had no idea what came over you to do that, but you decided to stick with this little ‘hard-to-get’ persona, and you disappeared into the crowd.

not 10 minutes later you were grinding on some guy through your shorts, just to work that 50 out of his hand. he was one of the assholes that would promise and never give. it was hypocritical for you to think that way, you supposed, but it was your job. either way, you got it from him by nosing up his neck (too much cologne) and giggling in his ear. and he put the bill in your g-string himself. gross.

you slid away from him between sets like you always did, and once again felt the heat of eyes on you. this was different, however. it wasn’t like the usual eyes on you, the gazes you had grown to crave and expect. this was predatory. you were being watched like a hawk. you spun around to find him staring at you again, this time split off from his little friends and instead sitting in a chair further back from the stage. he gave you a certain look and raised his hand, waving a bill in his hand. like bait! that was hotter than it should have been.

still, decided to make your way over to him, stopping in front of his chair, towering over him in your platform heels as he sat in the chair. he didn’t seem too physically imposing, but his energy was cockier than shit and you could tell he was bulked up. you usually didn’t fuck with these types, but something about him was just magnetic. it was insane. he leaned back in his chair, obviously insinuating that he wanted the same treatment as the others. you instead took a singular finger and raised his chin up to meet his eyes as they ran you up and down.

and that was when you realized, under the dim lights, that you were a complete and total idiot. you hadn’t even realize that the man in front of you was hawks, number two pro hero and the man too fast for his own good. you tried not to make a face, but you knew he could most definitely see in your eyes the minute you put the puzzle pieces together. what the fuck was he doing in a place like this?

“what the fuck is someone like you doing in a place like this?” you asked, coming out of your mouth before you could really stop yourself. he only chuckled, grinning as you felt his jaw tense against your finger. the main reason you didn’t recognize him is because there was a lack of giant red wings.

“what anyone else is tryin’ to do. have a good time! it’s my friends birthday, i have a life outside work, you know?” his voice was barely heard over the pounding of the music and the bass rattling under your feet.

“what about your reputation? i’m surprised there isn’t a line to gag on your dick at this point,” you held no filter in speaking to him. you never had it with anyone else, really, and what was so special about him? he was just another dude in the club, so you did what you always did and slid into his lap, pressing your bodies together in all the ways you knew did the best. you watched something flash in his eyes as he bit his lip for a moment. he looked back up to meet your eyes again.

“well, how long did it take you to recognize me? and you’re sober, aren’t you?” hawks brought a sculpted arm up to wrap around your waist, and you slapped it away as you worked your hips against his to the beat.

“no comment. and no touching, unless you want to pay for that too.”

“i might just have to. what’s your name, gorgeous?” his face was too smug for a man who could buy the building, yet completely in the the eye of the public had a semi hard-on for a stranger in some daisy dukes.

“i don’t know, what’s yours?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. you didn’t know his real name, no one did. it was a mystery highly speculated about online, not that you checked or anything.

“fair enough, fair enough. pick one before i blow a couple hundred on getting free roam to touch you.” he said, rolling his hips up to meet yours. this shocked you, catching your breath, and you knew he had noticed by the shit-eating grin he wore.

you gave him your stripper name. it was sufficient enough to add another layer of mystery, because even though you were in his lap, you wanted to keep up this game of cat and mouse. predator and prey.

the thought of that made you tingle. you told him your rates, and he forked it over quite a fuckin’ bit. you stood up from where you were sat in his lap (thought the loss was more upsetting than you would care to admit). you took his wrist (his hand was big) and started to drag him back to one of the more secluded areas.

you had to pass the VIP area to do that, and when you did, you heard a shout. it scared the shit out of you for starters, but hawks seemed to recognize the voice. it was coming from a woman with white hair and rabbit ears, currently cheering hawks on.

“fuckin’ get some, dude!” she said, and her voice was strangely familiar as hawks flashed an award-winning grin and a thumbs up. you winked at her and pulled hawks on with you.

you pulled him into a pseudo-room in the back. not cut off by doors, but isolated and split off by room dividers. you pushed him back onto one of the booth-like seats lining the wall.

the music was quieter back here, and it was easier to hear yourself think. the lights were dim and the bass was still thumping through the floor. there was no one back here, just you and him.

“ ‘kay, so i’m technically not supposed to let you touch me, but you just paid for my groceries and they don’t really check the cameras here. also, you’re cute.” you rambled off, more genuine and clearer now that the music wasn’t so intense in the middle of the madness. and then, catching the beat, you started your ministrations, rolling your hips against his and hearing his breath catch as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“so i’ve been told,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“don’t let it go to your head, princess.” you said, and he didn’t reply, too focused on oogling you.

his hands came up to hold your waist, and he put his effort into moving along with you, and his grinding did not go unnoticed. or unappreciated, for that matter. with his hips at your waist, he raked his thumbs under your thong straps and snaps them against your hips like you had earlier. it earns a breathy chuckle from you as you watched his pupils pin. you pulled back, standing and watching his face sour as his hands were pulled from your waist. but you decided to give him a little show, just ‘cuz you had a case of the hots for him and the way he was looking at you was much appreciated.

you now stood in front of him, towering above him as you toyed with the waistband of your daisy dukes. he simply bit his lip, practically eye-fucking you. it was exhilarating. you enjoyed the lustful gazes from customers, but this was on a different level. you felt truly alive, and yet like you were melting all the same. your insides felt gooey but you kept your perfected expression hard, movements practiced, sex appeal seasoned to flawlessness. and now you unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down to reveal your bright red thong, hips, legs and torso all one long line. he looked at you like dinner and you were fucking living for it.

you kneeled inbetween his legs, laying your head on one of his thighs in the way you knew drove people crazy.

you heard a small “god damn,” exit his mouth as he looked at you, entranced as you caught his t-shirt on your way up his body with your teeth, pulling it up and dropping it back down, promptly standing up to slide backwards into his lap. you roll your ass where you know it’s appreciated and hear his breathing speed up behind you. you can practically hear his heart pounding to match your own, like a drum to the beat. your body laid down the bass, your eyes were the melody and he was drowning.

and when it was all over, poor guy walked out of the club with his fellow semi-disguised pro-heros with a raging hard on.

and later on, when you were pulling all your money out to count it, you caught a piece of paper rolled up along a $100 bill. it was his number. a pro-hero gave you his number. that was risky, especially in the type of place they were in.

you liked the risk he took. you put his number in your phone.

#hawks #bnha hawks #bnha x reader #bnha x gn reader #hawks x reader #hawks x gn reader #takami keigo #keigo x reader #keigo x gn reader

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lupinblacktheone · 3 years ago

Text

"So, I was thinking": a modern college!AU:

Johnny is bored. He has already finished all of his crosswords; all of his friends are busy minding their own business and won't pick up their phones.

Classes won't begin until next Monday. Johnny arrived at his dorm last night and he doesn't know when his roommate will be there. All he knows about this person is his name: LaRusso, Daniel.

Wondering about this mysterious boy could set Johnny free from his boredom. Is he a nerd? Or a drama kid? Johnny hopes he won't sing all the time. Of course he likes music (who doesn't?), but musicals... he isn't ready for them yet.

It would be nice to have some common likings with him. Maybe horror movies or breakfast for dinner (well, Johnny is so broke that he eats it for all meals, basically).

Remembering the old times, which weren't good, not at all, tugs at Johnny's heartstrings. He doesn't miss arguing with his parents all the time, but he certainly liked not having to iron his clothes himself. And he misses messing around with Tommy, Jimmy, Bobby and Dutch after school.

Oh, and Karate! Johnny misses it so much that it hurts. He couldn't find a Karate club to join (is this a thing? In Johnny's opinion, it should be. There are clubs for everything in this campus. If he can't find one, he'll form one). Maybe he can practice with Daniel and he could be the second member of the Karate club.

"Hello! I'm Daniel!"

Johnny stares at the boy. He's short, dark-haired and has round brown eyes.

"Johnny", the blond boy gets up, approaches Daniel and shakes his hand. "Can I help you unpacking?"

"Please", Daniel sighs and rubs his neck. "My mother just dropped me off and turned the car around. I barely had time to say goodbye. Can you believe it? I think she wants to rent my room while I'm gone, but I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon. How about you?"

Obviously, the first thing Johnny learns about Daniel is: he's a chatterbox. Second thing: he's from Jersey. He lives with his mother and would love to learn martial arts, but her mother wouldn’t let him because she’s afraid he will get hurt.

"I know Karate", Johnny confesses with a little smile.

***

Sometimes, Johnny regrets having told Daniel about his passion for Karate, because the kid didn't stop begging Johnny for some classes until he finally gave up.

Their dorm is too small and they would destroy it sparring there, so Johnny decides to have the class outside, behind the gym. Daniel said he would meet Johnny there after dinner (and yes, Daniel also has breakfast for all meals, since he is just as broke as Johnny).

December is on the way, so Johnny is wearing as much sweaters as he can (including his Cobra Kai jacket). He leans his back against the red brick wall and puts a cigarette between his lips.

Daniel shows up some minutes later, carrying a heavy messenger bag on his shoulder and wrapped in hoodies and coats (he has lots of cool hoodies; Johnny loves to borrow them and he is using the baseball one right now).

"Ugh", Daniel puts the bag down, massaging his shoulder.

"Are you ok?", Johnny asks with a worried look on his face.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

They get on fighting positions and spar for a while. When they get tired, they walk back to their room, peacefully talking about the day.

"Let me carry this for you", Johnny picks the messenger bag, even though Daniel has already bent to pull it.

He places it over his shoulder and Daniel walks beside him, ranting about his lame Calculus professor.

"I couldn't convince Mrs. Warter to postpone the paper's due date", Johnny complains when Daniel asks about his day. "I'll be lucky if I get a C on it."

"Do you want me to help you?"

Yes, please, he almost answers. Johnny enjoys having Daniel around. They don't have many common likings besides Karate and breakfast food, but he really enjoys staying up late with him, sharing their only desk (Johnny begun to work as a cashier in a store near the campus and Daniel writes other people's assignments for money and they are saving money to improve the place) and laptops on study sessions. Or to spend rare and lazy Sundays in their room, doing crosswords (Daniel bought some magazines and gave to Johnny). Or to share breakfast meals in the middle of the night because they can't sleep.

"Are you free tonight?", he asks, his voice sounds desperate, just as his eyes.

"Is this a study session or a date?", Daniel replies jokingly and raises an eyebrow. "Sure. I can help you."

Johnny opens his laptop and shows Daniel what he's working on.

"I mean, it's not bad, but could use some adjustments here and there. Let's get to work."

Daniel presses the keyboard keys hard with strong movements that emulate a pianist, but with perfectly tied hair. His brain is formulating what should be in the text and getting rid of what shouldn't be read by Johnny's professor.

"I think we're done here", Daniel declares.

"Thanks. I'm gonna buy you a coffee tomorrow, with extra cream."

"Much appreciated", the boy winks and Johnny's heart skips a beat. "So, I was thinking..."

"What a miracle", Johnny teases, smiling to distract Daniel from his blushing ears.

"Anyway, are you going home for Christmas?"

"I don't think so. You?"

"Also no. I don't have enough money for a ticket to Parsipanny."

Daniel looks at Johnny for a moment. His blue eyes are usually shiny, but now... he's more than just sad. Johnny looks depressed and scared.

"Are you alright?", Daniel reaches for Johnny's hand. "You can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Johnny doesn't talk. Instead, he goes for a hug. A big and warm hug. He clings onto Daniel as if he was the only thing keeping him from being blown away.

He doesn't want to cry. However, he can't fight the tears anymore. Daniel holds Johnny, trying to keep him together only with his bare hands. He doesn't try to whisper comfort words in Johnny's ear, he just stays there, providing his roommate all the support he can.

That night, Johnny falls asleep in Daniel's arms. He has never felt this safe before.

The next morning, Johnny rushes to the closest cafe shop to get the nicest cup they have. He drops by the dorm to put the coffee on the desk with a note: To the best roommate ever. Thank you for everything. Love, J.

He sends the paper to Mrs. Warter as soon as he takes a seat in the computer lab for his first class, hoping Daniel's help can save his poor ass from failing Warter's class.

A few hours later, Johnny is waiting for the last class to begin so he can get to work. Not that he likes standing up by a counter telling old people where they can find raisins, plum juice and other things old people buy. But at least, he gets to listen to his music and does little pieces of homework between a client and another.

There is something Johnny can't do at the store: see Daniel. Too bad they don't take many classes together, because every time Johnny sees Daniel entering the classroom, the world changes. It becomes brighter and more beautiful. He knows it's cliché, but Johnny is tired of pretending to be the perfect son, athlete... he just wants to be Johnny.

And Johnny is brave.

"So, I was thinking...", Johnny says when Daniel sits by his side.

"That's unusual", Daniel lets out that amusement air through his nose. "What is it?"

"Do you wanna go out? With... with me?"

That is really unusual. Johnny never was this reticent before. Not even when he noticed he had a crush on Ali Mills.

“Yeah, sure. When?”

“How about Friday? My shift ends at 5:30.”

“Sounds great.”

***

Johnny spends Christmas in his dorm, with Daniel. They curl up on Johnny’s bed, wrapped in Daniel’s hoodies, solving crosswords puzzles and drinking tea while listening to Johnny’s music. Neither of them wants to talk about their families.

Growing up as an only child, Johnny never had to share his things. He wouldn’t even allow Ali to read his poetry (he wrote some about her, tho), or let his friends go through his Spotify playlist. Not because he's embarrassed to like these songs, but because the lyrics describe him so perfectly that he's not comfortable with someone listening to it in front of him.

When he met Daniel and found out they could be good friends (maybe more than that? Johnny certainly hopes so), he felt an urge to take the boy on a journey through his world. First, they shared Karate, then crossword puzzles and went on and on, discovering little things about one another.

“Huh… I couldn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I wrote you a poem. Wanna hear it?”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, just gets closer to him as Johnny clears his throat and searches his notebook for his newest composition. Once he finds it, he puts the paper in front of his eyes (he was brave enough to ask the boy out, but not to have that lovely brown eyes gazing at him while he reads his feelings out.)

“I loved it, Johnny. Now get ready for your present.”

Johnny doesn’t close his eyes when his lips are pressed by Daniel’s mouth. It feels so good that they do it again and again until they fall asleep, holding each other.

***

Graduation is almost here. Most students have moved from the dorms or plan to do it soon. Daniel and Johnny, on the other hand, haven’t mentioned the matter yet. As you can imagine, they don’t want to live with their families again. The only thing Johnny wants is to stay with Daniel and he wonders if Daniel wants the same thing.

“Hey, Danny”, it was supposed to be a nice and quiet study session before the finals, but Johnny can’t hold this down any longer. “I was thinking… do you wanna live with me?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re never getting rid of me, blondie.”

#lawrusso #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #college au #fanfic #Johnny's POV

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writing-frenzy · 4 years ago

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Seer!Airplane + Harem AU

Brain: Let’s give SQH a Harem :D

Me: SQH doesn’t know what to do with himself, he wouldn’t know what the fick to do with a harem :|

Brain: :D of course, the man doesn’t realize he even has one.

Me:... wut

Brain: And here is the totally new AU drabbled and noted out for how it happens~

....

So, my brain gave me this, so I hope to infect others with it as well.

Ever since Airplane (Shang Huan), was young, he’s always had strange dreams and an interesting ability with words and languages. Not to mention just how he always seemed to know certain things, simple really, like how he knew to bring an umbrella one sunny day that wouldn’t remain that way, to even what paths to take to avoid the bullies in his life. He’s grown this way, never noticed it was strange or unusual, and with parents more focused on tearing each other apart and ignoring any memories of when they were together, Airplane figures it’s just like the rest of his anxieties and worries, though at least the knowing can get him out of being beaten up or a perfect sale at the supermarket.

(The nightmares aren’t worth it; nameless amounts of people, that if he looks too hard at, he can know their entire backstories and futures no longer possible, cut short for blood and sport and greed.)

It is only one day, with desperation and hunger biting in his being, dreams stolen and ruined by others (And how was it, did he know this was still the best outcome? What could be worse- no, don’t ask that, it could always lead to ruin that question-) that Airplane, with only his little talent for script writing and his nightmares to aid him, starts to write, hoping for just enough money to get dinner eventually.

It... proves surprisingly popular. Just write what he dreams, maybe embellish here and there, take out that part, work around here, and just ignore that certain event and hey, this story is surprisingly coming together well. Are there a few plot holes? Sure, but considering the literal mass grave of answers for those holes, Airplane is content to leave them like that (pleasedon’tmakehimwritethatseeingitwasalreadyhorrifyinghedoesnotwanttoreliveit).

Things are going good; all his hospital bills that his father’s insurance doesn’t cover have been paid, his rent money has already been turned in, and hey, he even has some extra cup noodles. How can life get any better? (thedreamscouldstop-)

And then the world turns strange; weird creatures have started to be discovered, strange flora has been unearthed, and natural disasters seem to not be so natural as once thought.

Not to mention just how people have changed as well; or if they were ever regular people at all. Some seem to turn feral, no mind to think with as they act like zombies all of a sudden, supernatural feats of strength suddenly coming about...

Strangers suddenly flying about on swords, letting loose great shows of light...

Airplane ignores it; it’s all he can do. (Thereisnothingtobedonebutwait.) He codes for his story, makes some noodles to enjoy as he reads some comments, and naturally dies. (right on time)

Airplane is admittedly taken off guard when he actually wakes up, back in his crappy little apartment, terrible bruising all up his arms (therearesomanypathssolittletime), when he looks around and sees the change in the world.

And he knows; his stories are no longer mere words and nightmares anymore, but now combined with his waking world, now and forever.

- Read under for more notes and such on this world~

So, basically, Airplane/Shang Huan has been dreaming of the world where his stories takes place, the PIDW world, and using it to make money because he is a desperate little gremlin. (Now, with his powers, he can see multiple paths, and all, but he doesn’t see everything, especially if he himself changes fate, making the paths shrink and become a little more hazy.)

So one day, his world and PIDW world merge, causing countless calamities and disasters, even as the world heals and blossoms under it all. See, what happens is that when Bing-ge’s Harem finally turned on him and all (I don’t know if this is canon or fanon but it fits), Bing-ge in turn used the Wrath of the Heavens, which is not something even the craziest of Heavenly Demons would do if that says anything, which wreck a whole bunch of shit and mashed a few planes of existence together.

A lot of people died because of this... and yet, a lot of peeps were brought back because of this as well. Airplane did in fact die because of being electrocuted, but because of that, the energy left from the WOH merged with it, ending up kickstarting and powering him up instead of killing him outright.

And it is a very good thing SQH got that power up; he is going to have so many nightmares about it, but being able to manipulate, control, and use electricity and lightening are what ensure him survival for a good month before his city is made livable again. (He would do worse to survive, has done worse, what is a little electrical trauma in the name of his life?)

And look, even his intuition and foresight seemed to have greatly improved! Yay? (Nay so many n i g h t m a r e s)

He’ll be fine, he can walk it off. But as it is, Airplane starts to be rather... lucky with some of his finds.

Ironically, it starts with a man dressed in pale blues, eye tired and ever so dead, blood covering his fancy fantasy robes, a familiar crest/symbol (To Airplane) stitched over where the heart would be. A Traitor abused and used up, nothing left but rock bottom and yet still willing to dig if it meant living. (Oh, how that rings familar~)

Airplane has seen the past of Shang Family’ Honorable Third Son Shang Shaoqing and the future of the backstabing An Ding Peak Lord Shang Qinghua. Airplane knows that this is a desperate man who has done all he could to survive, with the mind like so many steel traps and mazes to dig around in...

Airplane saves them, avoiding a slow death the man would have had, earning him gratitude and suspicion all at once. The Writer doesn’t care, he just knows that having this guy on his side is just a logical choice; the man not only has more insider knowledge then anyone else in the world, but even knows how to use it.

On Shang Qinghua’s side.

With all the karmatic debt I have, I can not avoid this Life Debt... but once I pay my debt, I am gonna blow this popsicle stand.

Huh, this guy is actually kinda useful, maybe I should stick around

OH FUCK WHY DOES HE HAVE HEAVENLY TRIBULATION LIGHTNING?! HE NEEDS TO START CULTIVATING STAT

WHY IS THIS MAN SUCH A DISASTER?!?! NOW I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF HIM AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T GET HURT.

*Airplane tenderly taking care of his injuries, nervous smile on his face even as it is so soft* “You didn’t have to take that attack but... thank you for having my back” SdndejnejdbbhjD no, you have no right looking so cute, fuck why is this happening?!

.... This man is a fucking Seer... Actual, full blown, Doomsayer Seer, Not the Succubus Soothsayers who can just see little things, no, actual, can literally effect the fabric of Fate and Destiny Seer.... Fuck his life, he probably owes this guy even more now...

*Shang Qinghua snarks in response, only to get equally snarked in reply* .... I won’t say I’m in love...

Fuck, if anything happens to his disaster of a Seer he will go on a massacre and then probably become a demonic cultivator to revive him...

So yeah, over the course of maybe a few months, Shang Qinghua has regretsTM and Airplane gets an actually loyal bodyguard... Meanwhile~

Airplane: -Sigh- As nice as it is to have Shang Qinghua around, it won’t last forever; once the man pays back his debt, he just leave (like everyone else).

And then time for drama! The two get separated by unsteady space rips, Airplane having enough time to yell out a safe place for them to meet again before they end up on opposite sides to each other. So now, not only does Airplane have to work on surviving, but on the (hopeful) reunion between the two.

Cue Airplane’s next ‘Lucky Find’

Airplane hears the sound of sword and spell before he ever actually sees anything. Looking over the top of his nice ledge, safe enough from from any ‘friendly fire’, the young man feels his eyes widen when he sees who is fighting.

A beautiful, tall man in cream and tan colored robes, the ashen brunet directing their sword around them, using their other hand to throw out talismans when too crowded. And oh, how the mob surrounds this tired, too kind man, so weary for lost, all his grief stricken love no where to go in the lost of his family. (Oh, how jealous one can be, that someone got that love, no matter how fleeting it was in the end)

Airplane taking in Mu Qingfang, a healer forced to be a killer, a man with so much heartbreak in his soul, even as he determinedly live on, that shattered heart still wanting to help as much as it could. The Seer takes on how the other will die here, nothing left at all of such a heart, and in the end, Airplane helps, letting loose lightning upon the mob as he does.

Just makes sense, to have a Healer with you if you can.

On Mu Qingfang’s side:

This man is terrifying, how does he have tribulation lightning at his command??? but he did save me there, it’s only right I accompany him until I can pay it off (not like I have other things to do)

I am very, very grateful you saved me, but can you for all that is health PLEASE REST?!

Oh to the gods, how is a disaster like you alive? No, don’t eat that!

*Airplane, a tired smile on his face as he shows off some potent healing herbs he found* “I managed to find them, a little tricky but I was wondering if you can make use of them, maybe? I remember you saying you were running low and all.” .... damn his heart for being weak to sincere care and actually thoughtful gifts.

*after a terrifying nightmare, Airplane nearly bleeding from his screams, eyes so haunted and terrified even as he clings onto Mu Qingfang* “Please, I-I I just don’t want to be alone right now... please.” bjhbdjd shit, how can he say no, letting the other cling to them as they finally fall asleep. (Do not think about how cute the other is, cuddled up against him)

...A Seer... a fully realized, Fate altering, Destiny denying Seer... Gods, that explains so damn much... Maybe he can make him a Dreamless Night tea? would at least help with headaches if nothing else.

And so, over the time they have together, Airplane has unknowingly received the care and affection of one powerful as heck healer, who can and will be willing to cut a bitch if it means they have to.

But on Airplane: *le sigh* ah, once they feel like I’m well enough, they’re probably go back to trying to find their Martial Brothers and Sisters.... I’ll at least help them as much as I can...

Now, they don’t get separated: which is good, considering this next er... ‘Lucky’ Find.

They feel the temperature drop before they ever actually see the cause. Warily, the two men look to each other, but with no other way around it, move forward through the incredibly icy landscape.

It does not take them long to find the cause of it.

It is a Demon, Skin pale with a ghostly blue tint to their skin, beautiful snow white antlers branching out from their hand, ice collecting on the ends to make them even more deadly beautiful then before. And yet, for all that deadly beauty, are those ice like eyes, backdropped in the night sky look ever so tired, so betrayed (like always)

Mo Bolin, formerly Mobei-Jun is not one who has nothing left, but his willpower is draining, trapped as he is between the cursed artifact before him, no hope to escape it unless someone is willing to help.

Airplane sees this demon, this man who he greatly admired and aspired to be like, able to stand on their own and keep standing no matter what, no matter what the world came at them with, no matter the misery that had twisted a previously loving and warm child into the hardened, determined Warrior before him.

Letting his Lightning destroy the Artifact, the world weary youth takes the demon’s face in his hands, letting those icy night eyes look into his lightning bright ones, Mu Qingfang quiet but his sword at the ready behind him.

It will not be needed, as his Seer powers go to work.

“You find so much betrayal, just seemingly never able to escape it.

You soul has had so much darkness and hurt just let sit.

You Fate is said to be a cruel one for a cruel being,

Hurt, fear, blood, Ice, and broken bonds and dreams are all I am seeing,

I do Not agree.

So, From this wicked Fate I will set you free.” and as those eyes stare into each other, Mo Bolin can’t stop how he gasps, hand going to his heart, feeling lighter then he has in years.

Meanwhile, Airplane faints, having healed a better Fate for the former Mobei-Jun draining him good.

On Mobei-Jun’s Part

sdhkhbfwkkjdejdehjdehj Why? Just Why? What’s the reason the Seer did that?

Well, considering what he did, Mobei/Mo Bolin will have to find a way to pay the other back.

...Why is this Seer so Cute? He wants to pet it. (note: hitting will make the Healer stab him)

*Airplane, tired out from a long day having to fight through a bit battle, smiling in thanks, help Mu Qingfang with patching everyone up* “You know, I really admire you; your strength and determination to always do your best, no matter how many people try to tear you down... I wish I could be like that.” wait what, no, you’re perfect like you are, you little gremlin seer. (Mu Qingfang agrees.)

*Airplane, suffering from a Fever, which means he has to cuddle with a certain Ice Demon to cool down* “Ah, sorry for troubling you like this, my ideal man, but you are so cool... *snuggles* .... Damnit.

Like, Mobei-Jun/Mo Bolin knows Airplane can kick some ass already, but by the ancestors does he love seeing this little disaster of a man just wreck everyone around him.

So yeah, add one very smitten Demon Lord to the roster~ :D Oh, the loyalty was hard earned, and there is no way Mobei-Jun will be willing to part, even as he has to share with a Healer and whoever this Shang-Er they will be seeing soon.

For Airplane: ah, so cool to see my Ideal Man, but of course there is no way he’ll stay by my side forever, what with all the things he probably needs to do.

and this is all I got for the Harem on my side: now for the dynamics with each other:

Mobei-Jun and Mu Qingfang: the demon respects the healer greatly, and since they are both quiet peeps they don’t have much conflict. as for the Healer, after his sect got destroyed, he’s had to do a lot of things to make sure him and his surviving disciples lived, so he’s not too against demons, and Mobei-Jun is very useful in fighting, so for now they cool.

Both when they see Shang Qinghua; ... D:<

On Mobei-Jun’s side: his little traitorous spy just had to be back and be that Shang-Er close to Airplane. He does not like this, wants to smack the other around, but that would upset Airplane So he just glares. Shang Qinghua is not happy with this arrangement either, fully prepared to curse the other out and everything, but not going to stir the pot up more then he has to.

On Mu Qingfang: .... his backstabing martial brother is alive, but the thing is that Mu Qingfang and his disciples wouldn’t have lived if it wasn’t for the other; Shang Qinghua had saved them, transporting them away from the bloodshed that was about to happen. On Shang Qinghua’s part, the Healer was the only Peak Lord to give him any damn respect and care, so he of course gave him an out along with his own peak disciples; he pays back debts.

(This is ironically the reason he got killed by Mobei-Jun, because he saved those disciples)

So, there is much drama for a while, the three having big shouting matches and discourse, but these guys will turn into Enemies to Frenemies to Salt Lords and then to the Airplane Protection squad... because when these three get together and agree on something, well, you just combined the only competent people from PIDW together~

And they all love Airplane :D

Thank you all for reading the insanity of this, I enjoyed writing it out~

#SVSSS #Scum Villain Self Saving System #Scum Villain Self-Saving System #Shang Qinghua #Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky #SVSSS AU #Seer!Airplane AU #OG!Shang Qinghua #Mu Qingfang #Mobei-Jun

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pancake-man · 4 years ago

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PRUMANO SECRET VALENTINE

My gift for @canadiatuxedo for @prumano-week‘s secret valentine!! I went with the prompts Bakery and Fantasy AU, which turned out less fantasy and more medieval times? Anyways, sorry it’s late, I really hope you like it!

AO3 link

The world is a vast place, and Gilbert had travelled the whole thing round three times before he stumbled on a town named Lumin. It was nestled in tall mountains, and so small it hardly deserved a name. Normally it wasn’t the sort of place Gilbert would stop at, but one does grow tired of large fantastical cities eventually, and so he decided to try his luck somewhere more… quaint.

(This was his excuse, anyways. What actually happened was that Gilbert ran out of money halfway to the great city of Aveni and the carriage he hitched a ride on had unceremoniously dropped him in the middle of nowhere and driven off without looking back. Gilbert was stuck there until he earned enough money to grab another ride, but who knew how long that would take in a town that relied more on trade than money)

A small town, Gilbert thought, was the perfect place to start his fortune. So he had set forth with nothing but the clothes on his back and his flute, eager to entertain the town with his beautiful voice, stories, and musical skill.

Now he sat on a fountain in the town square, exhausted from a day of playing his heart out. His poor flute seemed just as tired, sitting quietly on the stone beside him. In his cap he’d only received a few copper, not even enough to rent a room, let alone buy himself a ticket out.

As Gilbert began to reason a back-up plan, his nose picked up a smell drifting on the breeze. Rossinia has one main street with the town square, the church(which doubled as town hall), a small inn, and a small number of shops. Gilbert gathered his things and stood, following the scent to the bakery. He counted his coins. Four copper. Enough for a roll, at least. Maybe a sausage if he was lucky.

Gilbert pushed open the door to the bakery and was immediately greeted by the warm scent of baked goods. He hadn’t realised how chilly it was getting outside until he was surrounded but hot ovens and warm rolls. His mouth watered. He went to the counter to order and-

“Fuck off, we’re closed!” Came a cry from the back. Gilbert leaned around the counter and saw the back of a young brunet working the oven. He had a large iron rod and was poking at the coals. He leaned over to add more and Gilbert’s mouth watered for a different reason.

“Um, I just need something small?” Gilbert looked around for a menu with prices, but there wasn’t one to be found. Of course not, because that would make sense.

The man in the back room cursed again, threw the door to the coals shut, and wiped his hands on his apron before stomping out to the front. He looked about ready to tear Gilbert a new one when he paused and gave him a once over. Gilbert stood up a little straighter and pushed his silver hair back self-consciously, and gave the man an eye himself.

He was short, even compared to Gilbert, which didn’t happen often, and seemed only a few years younger. He had dark curly hair and tanned skin, and the brownest eyes Gilbert thinks he’s ever seen(and he’s seen a lot of eyes). His lips and eyebrows seemed permanently pulled downwards, but with his pudgy cheeks it was the opposite of intimidating. He wore a green short-sleeved tunic and an apron, both of which were covered in flour and served the added bonus of showing off his (very nice) arms. Really, he was pretty cute.

“You’re not from around here,” the man said with a scowl.

“Eh, yeah, I’m just dropping by. Travelling bard, yaknow how it is,” Gilbert hefted his flute as evidence. The stranger’s scowl didn’t let up.

“What kind of dumbass comes to a town like this for money? You’d be better off in Aveni or something.”

“Oh, this is just a stop. Consider yourselves blessed to get to hear my amazing playing,” Gilbert winked and leaned on the counter.

The man calmly pulled a rag from the pocket of his apron. “Hair and eyes like yours don’t seem like a fucking blessing.” He whipped Gilbert’s arm off the counter with the rag. “And nobody wants to hear your shit music.”

Okay, ouch. Both the rag and the comment. Gilbert jingled his cap. “I’ll have you know I earned four coppers today, thank you very much. My music is awesome.”

His cap was snatched from his hands before Gilbert could react, and the man poked through the change before handing it back with an eyeroll. “Yeah, you can get about jack and, let me check, shit for that. I might have a stale bread roll in the back for that much.”

Now Gilbert’s easy air fell. That was a high price, though he supposed it made sense considering how far they were from any actual people. “That’s… it?” He poked through the coins again. “I can work for a bit more or something. I’m not very strong, but I’m smart. I’m Gilbert, by the way.” He stuck out a palm as a way of calming the stranger’s (frankly unwarranted) dislike of him.

“Tch,” the man batted Gilbert’s hand away. “Don’t care.” He stretched and looked around the room. “I guess I can give you a fresh one…” he started.

“Oh! Awesome!” Gilbert grabbed the man’s hand anyways, shaking it vigorously. “That’s really nice of you, yknow I’ve had a pretty tough week and it’s good to know there’s nice people even in a weird town like…” and on he went.

The man looked taken aback, too stunned by Gilbert’s sudden change in demeanor to comprehend any of his babbling, let alone retrieve his hand. “Oi!” He finally snapped, cutting Gilbert off mid-tangent. “I’m not your damn friend, capiche? I’m just giving you extra because you look like a fucking ghost and it makes me feel bad. I mean shit, when was the last time you ate?”

Good question. Gilbert had snacked plenty on stolen goods from his ride’s bag, but it had been a while since he’d gotten a proper meal. He shrugged. The man threw his arms up. “You see! I hate people like you, wandering from town to town and expecting people to take care of your dumb ass because you can’t take care of yourself. You’re lucky you’re cute, for fuck’s sake! Even with the weird eye thing, I mean seriously what the hell is up with that? It’s fucking weird. And-”

It was Gilbert’s turn to cut him off. “You think I’m cute?” he asked, feeling his ears start to go red.

There was a pause before the man was shaking his head, clearly flustered. “No, I didn’t mean- I barely even know you! That’s a weird thing to say to a complete fucking stranger! What the fuck, Lovino?”

There was practically steam coming out of Gilbert’s ears as he attempted to parse what just happened. He’d been hit on before, sure, but never by anyone this pretty, and never so outright. The red eyes usually threw off anyone who actually found him hot, and even without them Gilbert wouldn’t consider himself ‘conventionally attractive’, whatever that meant. The only thing his mind managed to pick up on was “Lovino? Is that your name?”

Lovino was working his fingers through his hair and looked up at that. “Yes?” he squeaked. “I mean! No! Fuck you!” He grabbed the nearest baked good, a warm pretzel covered in butter, and shoved it at Gilbert. “It’s free! Fuck off!” He said and pushed Gilbert towards the door.

Gilbert was still tasting the name Lovino on his tongue and went on instinct. He ended up outside, pretzel in hand, wondering what the hell just happened. Turning, he could see Lovino (Lovino, he thought again) hurriedly closing the place up. It was bright inside the bakery. The light spilled through the windows and into the quickly-darkening street. Gilbert looked up to see the last bits of sun dip behind a mountain.

By the time he turned again, the bakery was dark, and the door to the back room was closed. There was still bread on the shelves and flour on the floor, but apparently Lovino had decided that was enough and the day was done. A chill blew down main street, and Gilbert stuffed the warm pretzel into his mouth. Maybe he could find a stable to sleep in… Or even better, a barn.

The next day found Gilbert again in the main square, cap on the stone before him and flute pressed lightly to his lips. Today he caught the children headed home from a day of school, and they were eager to gather round and listen to his stories. Being children, they only had two copper between them, but they more than made up for it with sweets, shiny rocks, and marbles. This brought Gilbert up to six coppers and enough sweets to make a meal(anything adults say about ‘vegetables’ and ‘health’ is a lie).

Even while doing his bit, Gilbert only needed to glance up to be able to see the bakery across the street, and Lovino inside, very pointedly ignoring him. The butcher, the cobbler, and even the bishop were kind enough to step out and listen to Gilbert’s tunes, but Lovino kept his back to the windows whenever possible. It was cute, Gilbert thought. The more he watched the man, the more he felt a tightness in his chest.

Six copper… Hardly enough for a carriage, but a perfect place to start saving. Gilbert chewed on his lip as he counted out his day’s earnings. The sun would set soon, and most people had gone home or were in the process of closing up their shops. Surely he could spare a few coin, right?

Gilbert went into the bakery.

Immediately he was greeted by a snort, and “You again? I told you I don’t do handouts! And also to fuck off!”

Gilbert grinned and deposited his earnings on the counter. “No handouts, today. Turns out your town actually enjoys my awesome music.”

Lovino poked at the copper like it was a venomous spider. “You didn’t steal it?” That was actually rather insulting. Gilbert’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course not! I was out by the fountain all day. If you’d bothered to look up, you’d have seen me.”

There wasn't a response, instead Lovino stared at Gilbert. Or right behind him, it wasn’t clear. Gilbert looked about and back to Lovino. He had such deep brown eyes, Gilbert could write songs about them. "You have hay in your fucking hair," he said, in a voice that was absolutely melodi-

"Eh?" Gilbert raised a hand to pat at his hair. "Where?"

"It's right- no, you're missing it. Just, shit, let me-" Lovino leaned across the counter, his dark fingers combing through Gilbert's hair, and Gilbert forgot to breathe. Lovino pulled back with a large clump of straw, and the two looked at it for a moment.

"Huh," said Gilbert. "I dunno how I missed that."

"Haybrain," Lovino scowled, and turned to toss the straw in a wastebasket. "How the hell did you get that much hay in your hair anyways? Sleep in a fucking haystack?"

"Uh, yeah, actually." Not far outside of town, Gilbert had found a nice barn to sleep in. It was small, and brown, and missing a door, but it still had a good haypile, and not too many bugs, so he counted as a win. "I've slept in worse places though, no big deal."

The coins made a scraping sound as they were pushed across the counter to him. "So you're a hobo," Lovino said and began packing a bag full of rolls. "How much shit have you eaten since that pretzel?"

Gilbert's ears turned red again. "I prefer awesome travelling bard, but yeah, sure, hobo. And I'll have you know," he turned up his nose, making light of the situation, "that I recieved a fortune's worth of candy from the schoolchildren today, and it has fed me quite well."

"A haybrain hobo who steals from kids, sure." A smile twitched at the corner of Lovino's lips if Gilbert squinted just right. The baker closed the bag and handed it over. It was still warm from the oven. "I don't do handouts. You owe me." Gilbert began to go on his grovelling spiel when Lovino held up a finger to stop him. "Nope. I'm serious. Go play your dumb songs until I'm closed, then I've got a place for you to stay until you fuck off to Aveni or wherever. But you work for your keep, capische?" Before Gilbert could respond, Lovino pressed his finger forward and into Gilbert's lips. "Capische?"

Gilbert nodded. Lovino pulled away, satisfied. "Okay, then help me clean this shit up. Nobody gets a proper dinner or sleep until this place closes, and it's gonna take a while since somebody fucked me over last night. So stop fucking distracting me with your pretty, stupid face."

"My what?" Gilbert managed to ask.

"Your pretty fucking stupid face. Here." A broom handle was shoved into Gilbert's hands and he was directed into the back room to sweep the hearth. In the time it took him to clean the ashes, Lovino had put up all the unsold items, washed all the dishes, wiped down the counters, and shut the blinds and locked the door.

Gilbert wiped a sooty arm across his face and smiled. "Anything else, Lord Lovino?"

Lovino frowned at him. "How in the fuck did you manage to get that covered in soot?"

"I've never had to clean a fireplace," Gilbert shrugged. Lovino groaned.

"Fine, I might have a shirt or something that would fit you."

The only thing left to do was blow out the candles. Lovino made him resweep the shop front anyways before he deemed the bakery clean enough to close, and put out the lights. He led Gilbert upstairs to a small living quarter. There was a fireplace with herbs strung to dry above it, a small shelf lined with jars, a trunk, and a table with one chair, but Gilbert's eyes were drawn to the bed. The only bed. The small only bed. Now his whole face was red.

Despite Gilbert's best efforts, Lovino caught this, and his eyes widened in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't- I didn't even think about that," he blustered through a series of surprisngly curse-void apologies while digging through the trunk. "Just, here," and he threw a tunic at Gilbert's head.

Gilbert caught it easily. It was a plain red linen tunic, and seemed only a bit too big. He looked at Lovino. "Aren't you going to turn around?" A squeak of shame and Lovino turned his back. Gilbert slipped off his sooty clothes with a promise of "I'll wash them tomorrow," and put on the tunic. "Okay, you're good."

Lovino looked back and froze, bottom lip between his teeth. Gilbert pulled one of the sleeves up from where it had slipped off his shoulder self consciously. "Is there still hay in my hair?"

"Nope!" Lovino said, far too quickly. "I mean. No. You look great. I mean fine. I mean you look like shit. I'm going to bed." He swiveled on his heel and went back to the trunk, procuring a pile of furs, probably saved for cold winter months. "The floor should be fine enough, at least better than a hay stack, for fucks sake. Figure yourself out." With that, Lovino threw himself into the bed and turned his back to Gilbert.

"This'll be fine, thanks," Gilbert began, but it was clear Lovino was ignoring him. Eh. He put his flute and his cap on the ground and spread out the furs, then laid down. He wasn't used to sleeping this early, so instead he studied the eaves of the ceiling above him. He rolled over, stared at the back of Lovino's brunet head.

Lovino was an interesting person. Gilbert had met lots of interesting people in his travels, but none quite like this. People were generally either kind or not, but Gilbert had never met someone kind enough to open their home to a complete stranger, who then pretended to hate everyone and everything. He didn't understand. He wanted to understand. It was weird.

"Lovi?" He asked the back of Lovino's head. Silence. Then:

"The fuck did you just call me?"

"Why do you live alone?"

Another pause, this one longer. Gilbert almost asked another question to break the tension before Lovino responded. "Cause my family all had better places to be. Why do you travel alone?"

"Cause I left my family behind," Gilbert answered, easily. Lovino shifted in his bed. "Are you lonely?"

"No. Are you?"

"Yes." Lovino stiffened. Gilbert rolled onto his back. "I was never really close with my folks, even before I left. It's hard to miss what you never had, but I miss it anyways."

Quiet stretched between them. Gilbert could hear Lovino's breath slow, to the point that he almost thought him asleep. "Are you cold?" came Lovino's question, whispered so softly Gilbert hardly heard it.

"Yes," Gilbert lied.

He heard the sound of blankets shifting, and when he looked over, Lovino was staring back, his blankets open in a welcome. Neither said anything. Gilbert stood from his nest and shuffled into the already warm bed, pressed himself against Lovino's warm body.

"Fuck!" Lovino shouted, kicking away his feet. "Your feet as cold as balls!"

Gilbert laughed and shoved him back. "That's just because you're too warm. Sorry, Lovi."

Lovino rolled so his back was too Gilbert, his legs pointedly pressed to the wall and away from Gilbert's. "Fuck you," pause, "Gil."

(I realised only afterwards that this would’ve been better from Lovi’s perspective but, eh. Two lonely losers who managed to find each other. Gilbert ends up staying in town and working at the bakery, probably also teaching music lessons or something. Lovino gets to buy a bigger bed. It’s gay. Sorry you didn’t get a kiss. Happy Valentine’s Day!)

#hetalia #hws #hws prussia #hws romano #prumano #prumano secret valentine #prumano secret valentines #my writing

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s-creations · 4 years ago

Text

Return the Flames - Chapter 6

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Another dinner, this one with a more pastel color scheme. For some reason. Dominic and Amos claimed a booth tucked away in the back, away from everyone, in hopes they could talk without being overheard.

Amos was absolutely exhausted. Wanting nothing more than to lay his head down and pass out. It was a bit ironic that for being dangerously hot for so long, he was now freezing. And it was painful. Like pins and needles sticking him in different areas. Probably feeling like this while his body attempted to recover from their crash. He really wished the flame would return. That he could just curl into the closest corner and escape this nightmare for just a little while.

“Amos...we need a plan.”

Except Dominic kept pulling him back to the problem at hand. Which was needed. Amos just didn’t want to. “We need ta figure out how those peck necks knew about…”

The penguin sighed softly. “I think all we need to worry about for that is knowing that they know. And they’re hunting us down now because of this. Do you think they knew where we’re going?”

“If they knew about the Phoenix flame, I wouldn’t put it past them. They found us really fast after that first dinner.”

“So, our original, direct path is no longer an option. We’ll probably have to make a new, longer path to get to the mountains. Anything to keep them away from us. We’ll just need to make sure you’re alright to stay away for that much longer. Ah, there’s also the issue of provisions and transportations. Thank goodness our wallets survived with us. I would say bus for traveling. But that would take way too long and we’d be trapped if they find us again. So, a rental car would be our best bet. We’ll also need to contact the studio. Let them know we’re going to be gone for a lot longer than originally expected…”

Amos just stared as Dominic kept pulling up the major points they had to worry about. As the list kept growing, the owl felt his resolve break down further. As if he was suddenly realizing how much danger they were in. At the moment they weren’t being chased, they were patched up and food was on the way. Now, with the adrenaline not pumping as much as it was before, Amos’ mind was free to panic over their current situation.

Someone was hunting him down. Because of what he was. And he put Dominic directly in the line of danger because of this. All because of him. He alerted the authorities because he wasn’t able to control himself. Because he was a danger to everyone he gets near.

“Amos?”

The owl jumped, attention going from Dominic’s worried face down to his clenched hands lying on the table. “What.”

“You’re shaking.”

Was he?

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong- are ya really gonna ask me that after our plunge off the side of a cliff?”

“I don’t think we were up that high.”

“We almost died Dominic! Because I’ve been marked as enemy-number-one of some peck necks. With you as the unwilling accomplice.”

“Unwilling?”

“Ya didn’t know it would lead ta this when you agreed ta take me. Ya shouldn’t be involved.”

“You didn’t know this would happen either. I became involved when I plowed those crows over with my car. We’re in this together.”

“But ya shouldn’t be! I should have found a way around this that didn’t involve anyone else. This is my problem. I should be fixin’ this on my own.”

Just with everything else in his life. It was how he’s always operated. He learned how to fight, dealt with his ex leaving, his mother passing away, maintained his train, paid for his film equipment, raised Amelia, put her through college, started saving up for the grandchildren to get them through college as well.

Everything. Everything he did alone.

So why did he suddenly feel as if he needed help with this? He should have been able to figure out a solution on his own.

Amos stilled when Dominic reached over and gently grabbed the owl’s balled up hands. So stunned, he allowed the penguin’s hands to properly slip into his.

“I’m happy I’m here to help you.”

“How...can ya possibly say that?”

“Because I would be tearing my hair out with worry if I wasn’t with you. Over what could have been happening to you.”

“People are tryin’ ta kill us.”

“Then I’m even further relieved to be here and helping.”

Amos wasn’t sure what to say to that. Attention returning to their clasped hands, the owl felt his heart starting to pick up its pace. The familiar warmth returning to become a comforting presence. Dominic didn’t seem to be letting go soon, did Amos want him to? He realized he didn’t. Dominic’s feathers were smooth to the touch, like silk. And seemed to be a cooler temperature than Amos’ unnatural heat.

“Um, sirs? Your meals?”

Amos quickly pulled away as the server made their presence known. His feather fluffed up in embarrassment while Dominic gave an easy smile. “Thank you, Darling.”

“O-Oh, of course. No problem.” The server was now flustered. Giving their own smile back as they placed the plates down, departing shortly after.

“Should we make our new plan.” Amos grumbled as they were left alone again.

“Right, well, transportation first. We need to rent a car.”

“You mentioned something about a bus?”

“Yes, but I don’t think that would be best. We need to control our speed and our direction at will. A bus leaves too many variables that we can’t control. Which worries me. So, I think the car is, again, our best option.”

“Alright… You also made mention of changin’ our route?”

“To try and throw them off. It took them two days to find us. And that was when they had a guess as to how far we were into our journey. That tells me they’re aware of where we’re going. If we change our path, hopefully we can throw them off and sneak by them when we finally reach the mountains.”

“If we can sneak in.”

“We’ll figure it out. If we’re moving our route, we need to inform everyone that we’re going to be gone longer than expected.”

“We also need provisions. We kind of...lost all our stuff.”

“We have enough paper money to pay for what we need at the moment. Lucky us.” Dominic laughed softly.

“Yeah...lucky…”

“Is everything alright gentlemen?” The server returned, their attention on the untouched plates. Amos didn’t verbally respond, instead picking up his fork and digging in.

“Sorry, we’ve just been so engrossed in our conversation. Would you actually be able to help us out with something Darling?”

“Oh, sure!” Amos rolled his eyes at how eager the server sounded.

“We’re in need of a rental car and a possible clothing store.”

“There are more, larger stores and a rental place further into town. You should be able to get what you need there.”

“Thank you, you’ve been extremely helpful.”

Amos grumbled as he put his full focus on the food in front of him. Attempting to block out the sickening ‘flirting’ before him. It made his stomach roll uncomfortably.

He couldn’t tell if it was because he hated seeing such a blatant display in public. Of it he was upset because Dominic wasn’t looking at him anymore.

____________________________

“How much longer are you going to be gone?”

Amos really didn’t like how uneasy Amelia sounded. “Just a few extra days, nothin’ more.”

“Are you sure that’s a smart idea? Do you...will you have enough time?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. This was Dominic’s idea actually. Says I need ta ‘relax’ or somethin’ crazy like that.”

“Well, if it’s coming from Grooves, it sounds reasonable.”

“Watch yerself young lady.”

Amelia laughed softly. “Please just take it easy dad.”

“I will. I am. How’s it goin’ on your end?”

“Oh, good…”

“...Did...Did ya have another episode?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t that bad. I’m fine, really. Just tired.”

Amos gripped the phone receiver a little harder. “Are ya goin’ ta see Dr. Fula?”

“Dad-”

“If ya had an episode, she needs ta be aware.”

“And she was, we called her.”

“Does she want ta see ya?”

“No, in fact, she said I was improving!”

“How? Yer still havin’ them!”

“But this was not as serve as my previous ones. And I recovered faster, and on my own.”

“But ya still had one.”

“Dad, you need to unclench your jaw and release whatever's in your other hand.”

With a huff with some smoke unfurling from his mouth, Amos pulled his hand away from the side of the phone booth. Wincing from the newly created dent in the metal. “Amelia…”

“No, listen to me. I am fine. I’m home, safe and happy with the kids. Grace is staying with me. And a legion of medical professionals are on speed dial. Now I need you to just focus on getting yourself better, okay?”

“...Okay.”

“I know you’ll hate me for saying this, but listen to Grooves. He’s there to help you.”

“But-”

“Swallow your pride and let him help. Please.”

“...Alright.”

“Get better and I’ll see you soon dad. The kids miss you! Can’t wait to see pawpaw again.”

“Tell them I miss them too.”

“Be safe dad. I love you.”

“Love ya too, Amelia.” Amos hung up, letting out a sigh as he leaned against the pay phone. He looked over to Dominic, who was using the furthest phone in the line.

The penguin was calling the secretary to let him know they were going to be gone longer. Which Dominic was really leaning into the fact the message needed to be pasted along to all the workers. How they both would be coming back.

Bu̱t͙ tha̦ṱ’̨s͙ no̱t tr̥ue͙,̝ i͜s̙ it̼?͕ Yo̳uͅ’̨re n̺ot ex̖p̱e̻cting̖ t͉o c̝ome̖ back͍ fṛo̭m t̻h̘i̬s̟.

Amos swallowed weakly. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he moved away from the phones and turned towards the street.

A̟lwa̻ys̨ t̺h͔e̞ sa̞m̤e̠ fo͈r͉ y̦ou. Eͅx̱p̼e̞ct̝ th̺e͓ worͅsṱ. Be͜c̘ause th̤aṱ’̮s͚ a͍ḽl͎ t͢ha̝t͢ is to b̢e̖ e̦xp̗ect͔ed of̹ y̳ou. Th͟e͇ a̗bs͜olu̱te̹ w͓o͢r̖st̝.

Sitting on the curb, Amos crossed his arms over his knees, chin resting on top of them. His ears were pressed against the top of his head, remaining focused on the pavement of the road.

J͈us̬t a̯d̻mi̡t̤ it̯:̺ you’r̢e d̩yiͅn̢g. Yo̯u’ve k͈nown t͇his fo͜r̗ a w̤h̨i͉ḷe. Y̙et̳ yo̟u̼ ke̥ep̙ g̗i͙vi̯n͇g th̰i͕s se̘ns͇e̘ o̖f͟ hop͖e͇ to yo͈u̱r daug͙h̳ter th͜a͜t̡ y̢ou’ll͖ c̦o͜m͟e̩ b̖a̢ck.̟ How͢ seͅl͔fis̩h of̢ ỵo̮ṷ. N̗ot̫ eve̝n g͎i̞vi̲n͍g͔ ḫe͚r͔ a cha̢nc̘e to̭ h̩a̩ve͢ p̩ro̭p͍e͙r c͚l͕os̝ur̠e̥.

“Amos.” Dominic’s voice broke through, a hand resting gently on the owl’s shoulder.

“Finally pass the message?”

The penguin nodded as he sat down. “I’m hoping it’s actually passes along.”

“We really need ta replace him.”

“We do…”

“...But we aren’t.”

“Probably not.”

Amos huffed, a smile being pulled onto his face. “As long as we have that cleared up.”

“Mmm… Were you able to talk to Amelia?”

“Aye…”

“Does...Does she know what this could lead to?”

“No. She doesn’t need to know.”

“Amos-”

“She has enough on her plate ta deal with. This is my problem.”

“But if your-”

“We need to go. If we want ta keep ahead o’ those government peck necks, we’ll need that car” Amos stood, heading towards where their server had pointed them. Dominic gave a look of disapproval to the retreating back. But couldn’t really disagree as he knew time was not on their side.

So, even though the penguin wanted to reprimand Amos for leaving his daughter in the dark, Dominic remained quiet. One problem at a time. And they had agents to avoid.

#A Hat In Time #discotrain #the conductor #dj grooves #s-creations #fanfiction #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves #Multi-Chapter

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banditthewriter · 4 years ago

Text

Trust Is Earned - Charles Vane - 8

This is part eight which means two more after this! Hope it’s living up to expectations!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

------

The man in the shop was surprisingly familiar even though it had been dark the first time you met him. John Silver, the cook on The Walrus. He gave you the same overly charming smile that you remembered from the night he had come by with Billy.

“Ah, Miss Y/N. I have heard so many things about your candles that I just had to see them for myself.”

You raised an eyebrow at that but when he didn’t budge, you simply gestured along the wall where you had crates full of candles of all sizes.

“I see. Thank you.” He walked over to them and perused, hands gentle as he picked a few up. “They look as promised. Long lasting are they?”

“What the fuck do you want Silver?” He looked surprised and you laughed, leaning against the counter as you did so. “No one has ever asked questions about my candles. They are candles; you light them, they burn. So unless you want to add candle making to your repertoire, what is it that you want?”

He nodded his acceptance of that. You watched him walk around the edge of your store before he stopped, close enough to you for you to see that he had a few bruises on him. Guess pirate life was working for him.

“I wanted to apologize. Over the last few weeks I’ve heard some disturbing things have happened to you and I feel like they might have been my fault. Ever since I stole the map from Captain Vane and had to have Billy get me out of that problem–”

“The only thing that your stealing that map did was cause some of the crew from The Ranger to cause a little chaos in my store. Since then everything that’s happened has been my decision. Mine,” you emphasized as you jabbed yourself in the chest, “and mine alone. It is not your fault, not Billy’s, no one’s. Do you understand me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said solemnly.

There was still something on his face and he hadn’t turned to leave even though he’d given his apology. You sighed and waved a hand at him.

“What else?”

He turned his head, the black curls obscuring his face as he did. When he turned back, he looked honestly confused.

“I just don’t understand something. You’re with this Captain Vane now, but just a few weeks ago he threatened to kill me and Billy. You were with Billy at the time.”

You were almost as tired of explaining your relationship with Billy as you were explaining your pretend relationship with Vane. Perhaps you needed to rent some criers for the street.

“A few weeks ago he threatened to kill me. He’s a pirate and he had lost something. Flint would threaten me with death if the roles had been reversed.” You smiled a bit at Silver as that seemed to surprise him. “Welcome to Nassau, John Silver. It’s not what you’re used to. Here, things are as fluid as the sea you just sailed in on. Here almost nothing is as important as money and freedom.”

Two things you had in large supply.

Silver took a step towards you.

“Not even love?”

That made you smile sadly as you turned away from Silver to look at the wall of candles.

“Love is many things but sadly I do not think it is mine. Money and freedom are more than enough to make up for what I lack.”

There was nothing but silence so you turned around to look at Silver. He was staring at you curiously.

“Are you sure?”

“I have more money than I know what to do with, a free woman in a time when they are usually property of their father’s or their husbands. Yes, I’m sure.”

He shook his head at that.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before either of you could say any more, a local couple came into the shop to pick up their order. You excused yourself from Silver to help them. Once you were done and paid, you looked around but Silver was gone.

Had he meant if you were sure that love was not yours? Why, because he knew that Billy was in love with you? That did not make the love yours.

And the love you did have, well that was not yours either, was it? It belonged to a man who did not want it.

Such was life.

------

The man left behind from The Ranger crew this time was a man named Leopold. He was older, quiet, but he had a caring smile when you offered him something to drink or to have him sleep on the cot like Edgar had. He kept two loaded pistols with him at all times and his sword rarely left his hand.

He was there when the men your contacts had sent arrived. Six large men that all looked like that ate men like Edgar and Leopold for lunch. Once they gave you the letter from the man you usually corresponded with, you introduced yourself to each of them. Then you went out of the shop and told Leopold he was free to go back to the camp.

“The captain won’t like that miss,” he said as he looked past you and into the shop where the six men were getting acquainted with your domain.

“I’ll deal with that. I have more protection than I know what to do with. Do what you want until The Ranger comes back to Nassau; I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”

He thanked you before he left, one last look over his shoulder before he was gone.

You made the decision that night in your bedroom, the man named Lucky asleep in the shop on the cot while the rest of the men looked for a place to stay nearby. You would tell Vane that the truth could be told now. He didn’t have to sell to Guthrie anymore at all. You were protected and there was nothing Eleanor could do to you.

Decision made, you curled up to sleep but tossed and turned all night.

------

“Why the fuck isn’t Leopold with you?”

You looked up at the angry, fuming voice of Charles Vane as he approached you in the street of the town. You started to explain but everything happened so quickly. He reached out to grab your arm but didn’t get that close before he was slammed against the wall of a nearby building.

“Stop, stop Emmett, I know him, it’s alright,” you called as you grabbed Emmett and pulled him backwards.

And of course Vane couldn’t be reasonable. No, he had to pull a pistol and point it at Emmett in the middle of the fucking street.

“Stop it, Christ, both of you! Vane, Emmett is part of my protection that I told you I was working on. Emmett, this is Charles Vane, my business partner.”

“Your business partner needs to keep his hands to himself,” Emmett said as he crossed his arms, staring down the pistol that Vane was holding.

“Lord save me from men and their egos. Vane, put the goddamn gun down,” you said as you stepped between the two a little more fully.

Vane did lower the pistol but only because it was pointing at you. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he looked past you at Emmett.

“How do you know they can be trusted?”

That was an easy question to answer.

“Familial loyalty,” you explained with a look at Emmett. “Emmett’s family and mine were very close, my father saved his parents’ lives once. The others are the same way. My contacts decided that loyalty was a better motivator than money, although there’s plenty of that on offer as well.”

“Already told you I’d do it for free,” Emmett replied from behind you.

“I trust my men. I don’t know these men,” Vane said as if that solved that.

He had a habit of thinking his word was the last word. Not in this case. Not to you.

“I understand that Vane, but this is for the best. This way you don’t have to split your hauls anymore. You can completely write off Eleanor Guthrie and her rules. You’ll be free.”

His eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“She’ll know of your involvement.”

“Hence why I didn’t mention this until my protection came through. They landed in Nassau just days ago. The others are getting the lay of the land right now.”

Vane still didn’t look convinced so you used the last card in your hand.

“This way people don’t have to think that we’re together. We can be honest that it’s just a business relationship. We won’t have a need for the secret meetings or… feelings, anything like that. We can go back to how it was.”

You hadn’t imagined one way or another how he would react, but you didn’t expect him to completely lose all emotion on his face. It was as if a veil had been pulled down and suddenly there was nothing.

“Of course. I’ll make sure the men bring the whole haul to your warehouse then.”

Without so much as a goodbye or any indication that he realized this was probably the last time the two of you would talk for a long while, he turned and walked away.

You should be used to watching Vane walk away, but you found that it hadn’t gotten easier. In fact you might even say that it was harder this time than any before.

“Do you want me to go and bring him back?”

You turned and looked at Emmett curiously.

“Whatever for?”

He shook his head and gestured for you to lead the way again. When you refused to answer, he sighed in acceptance.

“It’s obvious you love him. And it’s obvious he feels something too.”

You let out a laugh at that. You grabbed his arm and tugged on him for a moment before you released him completely.

“What you saw there is Captain Vane’s grateful acceptance that he doesn’t have to answer to anyone anymore. We are partners, that’s all.”

Emmett smirked as he looked over at you.

“I’ll be sure to tell the others that you’re a terrible liar. It’ll make it easier for us to protect you if we know that ahead of time.”

------

“Uh, Y/N?”

You looked up and saw Billy and Silver being escorted in by Lucky, Emmett, and Miles.

“They get a little touchy when more than one pirate is in the shop at a time,” you explained as you waved them all off. Lucky stayed near the door while Emmett and Miles went out to work on the bunkhouse that they were building with the other men.

When you can’t find nearby accommodations, you make them.

“Who are they? And are they looking to join a crew?”

You laughed at that. More than one of the guys had explained that they had horrible seasickness after their journey to Nassau.

“They are my new protection. My employees, I suppose,” you said with a shrug as if you’d never really thought about it. “Since it’s becoming common knowledge that I am the fence for The Ranger, I realized that it might cause some issues with the Guthries and perhaps other crews.”

“That’s actually why we’re here,” Silver said as he gestured to ask if they could come closer.

Normally you think they would have just walked up to the counter. With Lucky at the door, they had probably thought twice about it.

“If you’re telling me that you or Captain Flint have a problem with what I’m doing, I’ll point out that my services to the other crews on this island haven’t changed.”

“No, the opposite actually. Flint was hoping you might be looking for another customer.”

The whole point of this deal was that The Ranger was to be your only client. That didn’t mean you couldn’t hear them through their proposition.

“Flint wants to part ways with the Guthries? I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Billy shook his head, leaning in a little closer as if what he was about to tell you needed to be kept secret from your empty shop.

“You don’t understand how bad it’s gotten since Vane stopped using the Guthries as a fence. Eleanor is completely unhinged, making wild accusations and trying to turn people against them. Only problem is that you’re putting more money into this island than the Guthries ever could so no one is on their side. Flint’s tired of the melodramatics and wants someone a bit more professional.”

That was interesting. You’d heard how it had been when the news landed that you were the fence and The Ranger had been using you for a while already. The people from up the hill had come to you almost immediately to spread the gossip. Eleanor Guthrie was shamefaced and ridiculed for letting her “woman scorned” act cause her to lose one of the best crews on the island.

One of the best crews. The Walrus was the other best crew.

An idea started to take form, but you wouldn’t give it voice. Not yet at least.

“Vane is my partner. I wouldn’t be able to make any decisions without him.”

Silver nodded a bit as he moved to stand beside Billy.

“That’s not a no though, right? There’s a chance?”

“With Vane making the decision? A chance in hell,” Billy grumbled.

Maybe not. You thought you might have a way that Vane could see the use in bringing Flint into the fold. It might take a little miracle, but surely you were due some good luck by now.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just, I don’t know, fuck him to get him to agree?”

You glared at Billy. Lucky had turned at that, not liking hearing what he thought to be an insult towards his boss, but you gave him a shake of your head. Even if it had been meant as an insult, you still would’ve waved him off.

Billy was due one after how you treated him. But just one.

“I thought you understood. The whole thing was an act. What was going on between Vane and I was nothing but this partnership.”

Silver looked unconvinced. Billy looked the slightest bit angry.

“I saw the two of you, remember? When he came here covered in blood? I saw how you two looked at each other. That’s not a business relationship.”

You really wished people would stop telling you that there was more between the two of you. Every time you heard it you wanted to believe it. You wanted to believe that Vane felt something, that maybe there had been a mistake the night he’d come to you when The Tempest crew had attacked him.

But it wasn’t real. None of it was.

“I’ll discuss this with Vane and let you know one way or another. Do you have a hunt coming up?”

“A few weeks. Our last haul was pretty big but we lost a lot of men in the battle. Half the vanguard was killed or died of their wounds.”

You nodded your understanding. Some of those sea battles were more dangerous than they were worth.

“Then we have time. Rest assured, I’ll make sure Vane actually thinks about it.”

------

“No.”

You rolled your eyes. Vane had barely let you get the first part of the request out of your mouth before he shot you down. Jack and Anne were also in the tent and neither of them looked surprised either. Anne barely looked up from where she filed her nails with her dagger, but Jack had actually started to grin.

“You will let me finish my sentence or I will make your life a living hell,” you threatened with a quick glare at Jack to let him know he wouldn’t escape your ire either. “What I was saying is that Flint has proposed that they become my customer as well and stop using the Guthries as their fence. I told them that I would bring it to you since you’re my partner in this.”

Vane made a show of waiting to make sure you were done before he spoke.

“I understand. My answer is no.”

You closed your eyes and counted to ten. And then twenty. Then you looked at Jack and Anne.

“Do you mind giving me a moment alone with your captain? I wouldn’t want anyone to be present when I call him an egotistical ass.”

Anne snorted as she stood up and walked by you. You caught her grin before she schooled her features. Jack was less inclined to school his features. He gave you a pat on your shoulder before he walked off.

“Do you have a reason besides your own damn pride that I shouldn’t be the fence for Flint as well? You know as well as I do that I get more leads than you can possibly chase down.”

Vane leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.

“It would be more danger for you. Taking on a second crew, sure, but the biggest crew that the Guthries have left? You think Eleanor went crazy when I left, take Flint from her.”

“I’m not scared of Eleanor Guthrie or her father. I have support from the merchants, the crews, the locals. They sell through legitimate means but I am legitimate. And I have protection.”

One of your guards was outside of the tent. He hadn’t been happy about being told you’d be out of his sight but they listened to you.

And you were pretty sure they had begrudgingly begun to trust Vane after they learned that he had killed for you. For the partnership.

“How do you suggest keeping the other crews from being pissed about it?”

This was where you might need that miracle.

“Because my services wouldn’t be exclusive to you and Flint. I would have to make it so that the two best crews on the island were welcome to fence through me with conditions. If a crew was able to rise up the ranks and stay level for six months straight, they’d become the number two crew and replace the one doing the least with me currently.”

Vane laughed.

“You think Flint will agree to that? You think I will?”

“Are you saying that you’re not confident in your ability to stay the highest earner on the island?”

It was a challenge, one you had gotten correct. Vane stood up and crossed his tent until he stood in front of you.

“You better know what you’re doing.”

You stared up at Vane and tried to tell your traitorous heart to be quiet.

“Trust, Vane. That’s the basis of all of this, remember?”

Trust. From the beginning, that’s what you had said. It was time to put that to the test.

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#charles vane #charles vane x reader #charles vane imagine #charles vane fanfic #black sails imagine #my writing #trust is earned

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

memories - in this life and the next chap. 1

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 3.1k

warnings: amnesia, hospital environments, dealing with grief, emotional neglect, a teeny bit of language

a/n: this is so short i’m sorry i promise the next ones will be longer, this one was just mainly to like... build the context. also the change in you/her from the previous chapter is intentional, it’s ~foreshadowing~

while some people want nothing more than to remember, others would give everything just so they could forget

the four minutes of silence had been the worst four minutes your family had ever lived through. the doctors had done whatever doctors did when someone died in their hospital bed, but were at least as surprised as your family when you shook slightly, immediately resuming their efforts at reanimating you, and this time it worked. they attached you to an incredible amount of machines and put you into an artificial coma to spare your body from having to do more work than absolutely necessary until they could somewhat safely say that being awake would not risk anything for you anymore.

when you woke up for the first time weeks after you had died for four minutes you didn’t recognise any of the faces around you. you didn’t understand what they were saying, and you couldn’t recognise the name they called you by.

“i don’t understand”, you said weakly, and surprised everyone when you spoke korean. of course your entire family spoke korean - your parents had immigrated in their twenties, before you were born, so you’d grown up bilingual. what was surprising wasn’t that you knew korean, it was that you didn’t understand the language that was supposed to be as natural to you as korean was. it was then that they realised they hadn’t gotten their daughter back. that their daughter didn’t even remember that she was their daughter. but you were alive, and that was already more than they’d hoped for when the machines first turned silent.

the doctors told you that this amnesia might slowly disappear, that you might slowly remember your life again, but also warned you that it might not ever leave and you had to be prepared for that. it stung, but they tried their best to give you your memories back, tell you about your life, your friends, everything you’d ever done that they could tell you about. you couldn’t remember any of it, but it seemed like your life had been fairly happy, if you ignored the autoimmune disease you had to deal with. they’d always tried their best to allow you as much of a normal life as they could, and even though you couldn’t remember any of it you still felt a deep gratitude towards these people that obviously cared about you incredibly much. so you tried to like them, to feel the feelings towards them that a daughter should have towards her parents, and while you didn’t feel close to them yet, couldn’t feel close to them yet, your discomfort at their touches, their physical affection, had slowly started to decrease. you knew it probably hurt them, but it wasn’t something you could change, no matter how hard you tried.

unlike this family, mingi hadn’t been lucky enough for the love of his life to wake up again. he’d refused to leave her side until they had told him there was nothing they could do, that there was nothing he could do either, at which point he’d broken down crying, unable to be strong anymore. he’d lost her. he’d lost her forever and he was stuck waiting until he could find her again, in the next life and the one after that, wanting nothing more than to speed up the process. but he knew that she wouldn’t have wanted that, so he forced himself to go on, even though he was but a shadow of himself, burying himself in his work and moving in with a friend because he couldn’t stand returning to the apartment he’d shared with her every single day, all the memories and all the little pieces of her that he refused to get rid of even though he was unable to even look at any of it. he felt like if he got rid of even the smallest piece of trash that she’d forgotten to throw away before she left for work that day he got rid of her, of the memories and of the relationship and of all the moments and feelings he’d shared with her. and while his friends were worried for him they knew he needed to grieve, they knew he needed his time, and they were more than willing to wait for him to be even a little more okay than he was now. they knew she’d been his everything.

day after day you tried to become yourself again, trying to remember who you even were in the first place. but your memories seemed to be irrevocably gone, even your name not yet something you reacted to each time someone called out for you. it didn’t feel like you. it didn’t feel like the person you were now, and you felt like you’d failed everyone for not wanting to be a person you couldn’t even remember. you wanted to create a new you, because unlike the people surrounding you, the people that remembered who you used to be and that had an attachment to those memories, the person that you were before you died held no significance to you, the only thing you had in common with her being her body, her genetic set up. you didn’t want to have to keep trying to be someone you weren’t even sure you wanted to be.

at least your overall physical condition seemed to have improved drastically, miraculously. it was as if your autoimmune disorder had died along with you, something the doctors tried very hard to figure out because that wasn’t how genetic disorders worked, but it seemed like that was the trade-off for your complete lack of memory. everyone was still somewhat wary at your sudden and technically impossible recovery, so that you were kept in the hospital for another couple weeks even after you were fine, just to be sure, but when your condition seemed to not worsen at all even after one and a half months you were deemed stable enough to return home. you would have to come in weekly for a check-up, and you would have to be careful to not over-exert yourself, but since you would be on constant watch by your parents the doctors decided that it might be helpful for you to return to your childhood home, maybe having some memories resurface in the familiar environment.

that hope was quickly destroyed by the harsh reality of your brain refusing to remember anything at all. it was as if you’d never even been in this house, and all the pictures on the walls didn’t feel like you, either. the house felt heavy, suffocating, enveloped in feelings and memories that everyone but you remembered. you felt like a stranger, you felt out of place, and as soon as your parents allowed you to you spent as much time in public spaces as you could. you wanted to escape the pressure of having to remember, and you wanted to escape their looks of disappointment and resentment towards you, the person that looked so much that the daughter they’d loved but didn’t behave like her at all. because even though you had no memory of them you didn’t want to be looked at like that, like you’d stolen their daughter from them, like you were an intruder. like it was your fault. not remembering them was okay for you, but knowing that they remembered you, remembered the you from before and the you now, and that it was very obvious which one they preferred? that hurt. knowing that you weren’t good enough for them hurt. knowing that, even if they’d never admit it, a part of them wished you’d stayed dead because this was like you being dead except they had to look at you all the time hurt. and knowing that you had no one to go to about this, to talk to about how you felt, hurt as well.

so, hours outside turned into more and more time, until at some point you decided you were tired of it. your parents had money, savings, and even though you felt a ping as guilt as you took them that quickly subsided, because you knew that the money they kept in the house wasn’t even close to all their money. they’d maybe not even notice it. but for you, it would make life much easier. you gathered the essentials - a sleeping bag they’d told you about in one of their desperate attempts to get you to remember things, food that wouldn’t be expiring anytime soon, and whatever else google told you was useful for living on the streets. it wasn’t like you were planning to do that - you weren’t stupid, nor were you suicidal, and the money you had might last you for a very cheap airbnb for the entire month and maybe more; by that time you planned to have found a job and your own place to stay. you didn’t rush this, either - transferred the money to a new bank account, got yourself a new wardrobe, a few pieces at a time, tried to prepare yourself for what you were about to do as well as you could. you might’ve hated your current life, but running away without any kind of planning wasn’t going to improve your situation. so you took your time.

when you finally did it, though, you felt relieved. you didn’t realise how caged you’d felt until you were out. it felt like you were able to breathe again, for the first time since you woke up after dying.

mingi still was very far from over her, but his friend yunho had convinced him that he should rent out the living room in the apartment he still refused to enter, he still refused to give up. he paid rent there, by himself now that she was gone, and the only reason why he managed to keep it was all the extra shifts he’d picked up and the fact that yunho had mercy on him and didn’t ask for a lot of rent. but he couldn’t keep it up forever either, and it was because of this that a few weeks after the initial idea, they’d found someone who had rented the living room for a few weeks right away. mingi still wasn’t ready to go in, so he asked his friend to go and lock your bedroom and take away everything that he knew was so personal to the heartbroken man. he hated the idea of changing anything, but he hated the idea of a stranger rummaging through his life with the love of his life even more. so all the important things, the anniversary gifts, the pictures, were locked in the bedroom.

it hurt yunho to be there, as well - mingi hadn’t been the only one that she’d meant a lot to. being as close as he was with the tall male it had been impossible to not befriend her too, her bright and lively aura pulling in everyone that got to meet her. but he prepared everything, for his friend, because he knew that if he had to go back he’d break down and no one might be able to piece him back together.

and it was yunho who welcomed the very first person - besides him - to enter the apartment where mingi’s entire heart was still kept.

you’d found a place to rent for cheap very soon - it was almost an entire apartment, for half the price you’d pay if you were to rent it first-hand. the person you’d been messaging sounded incredibly nice, and while you were doubtful because it was a man who sorted things with you and a man that was the main tenant you had a fairly good feeling about just these men. you’d been given some clear rules via call already - don’t move anything, don’t throw anything away that you didn’t bring, preferably just don’t touch anything unless absolutely necessary. you thought it was odd, but you accepted it. it was a place to stay, more luxurious than you could have hoped for, and you were guaranteed that you’d be able to stay for as long as you wanted to if you followed the rules.

a tall blond greeted you in front of the building, showing you the way to your new home for the next few weeks and handing you the keys. he entered with you, making sure there were no questions about the apartment and once more stressing that you were not allowed to throw anything away, change anything, and that the bedroom was a hard no. it was locked, anyway, but he wanted to be sure. and while you accepted these rules, you were curious about them because it did sound a little like the owner either had ocd or was an axe murderer who kept the evidence hidden away in his apartment.

“i’ll do that, no problem, but why all these rules?” but you knew the question was a sensitive one when you saw the pain that immediately distorted the man’s expression.

“this is my friend’s apartment. he shared it with his girlfriend, but she… she died. no pretty way to say it. it’s still fresh, and he just doesn’t want to lose any memories, you know? he hasn't even been here since. he wants to have her to come back to when he does, even if just in the trash she left on the floor.”

you nodded in understanding - you remembered how the first time you’d changed anything up in your room your parents damn near had a breakdown, and you weren’t even really dead.

“i’m sorry for his loss. i’ll do my best not to change anything up unless absolutely necessary. thank you for letting me stay here even though it’s hard. i know it is.” and because your voice sounded like you genuinely understood yunho got curious about you, this stranger that had rented the apartment from two strange men by herself, for several weeks in a row, seemingly willing to accept whatever rules and regulations he’d put up. he knew it’d be inappropriate to ask about you when he’d barely just met you, though, so he stayed silent, nodding at you.

“just in case something’s wrong you can always text me, or call me if it’s urgent, same number as when we last called. i hope this’ll be okay for you.”

it felt like the two of you were nodding at least as much as you were talking, you moving your head in acknowledgment again.

“anyway, i’ll go now. check up on my friend.”

“tell him thank you for letting me stay here.”

“yeah.” and with that, he left.

when you settled on the couch you felt a weird kind of familiarity, a familiarity you hadn’t felt a single time ever since you woke up again. you didn’t understand why, had no conscious recollection of this place, knew you’d never been here before. still, it felt like you knew it, knew these surroundings. the feeling was weird, kind of uncomfortable and scary, but you decided to ignore it in favour of going to sleep.

mingi had sent yunho to check up on the apartment every single day, to make sure that the stranger he still hadn’t met wasn’t wreaking havoc and destroying the only remembrance of her physical presence he still had. but day after day his friend told him that it seemed like you kept your promise to not change anything up, like you’d barely even touched anything at all. the couch was changed, of course, and you’d also used the bathroom and the kitchen, but both yunho and mingi were surprised at the fact that you always used the same set of cutlery, the same plate, the same towel. you’d gotten your own dish soap, your own laundry detergent, because you didn’t even want to risk emptying the ones she’d bought back then. you were careful, attentive and compassionate, and it made mingi curious to get to know you. he knew he’d not be able to see you in the apartment, so he asked yunho to ask you to meet up with the two of them in some café, just because he was curious and he wanted to ask if you were still comfortable at his place that didn’t feel like his anymore now that she was gone.

he was a little nervous about it, just because you might ask questions and because you might dig in his past and because being face to face with the person that was living where she used to live might cause emotions he’d more or less successfully suppressed by now to resurface. but his friend had convinced him that at least from your part there was nothing to fear, that you’d been more considerate of the situation than even most of their friends had been.

you were nervous when yunho asked you to meet in some café, because you didn’t know the second man at all, hadn’t even been told his name yet because the blond always just referred to him as ‘his friend’. you wanted to leave a good impression, so you got a little dressed up, though not too much because that’d be inappropriate as hell considering the other man had just lost his girlfriend not too long ago. it was just subtle makeup and clothes that were a bit fancier than your usual ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt, opting for ripped jeans and a cropped top instead. it was all black, not even on purpose but because you felt most comfortable in dark clothes, and after you’d spent half an hour overthinking if your outfit was appropriate or if you should wear something else you finally left.

it wasn’t hard finding the café - it was close to where you lived now, and while it wasn’t too fancy it wasn’t too hidden away, either, so that you weren’t left looking around for some secret entrance for an hour as you’d feared you would be. you entered carefully, scanning the café for the blond man whose face you could easily recognise by now by how often he’d visited you to check up on both you and the apartment, and it only took about a minute to spot him. then, your eyes fell upon the tall male next to him, and you felt the same weird kind of familiarity that had become your constant companion in the apartment. you knew there was no way you knew him, and you knew that this was probably just the desire to finally know something again, remember something again. still, you surprised yourself when you opened your mouth and yelled for him.

“mingi!”

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withabackpackandcamera · 3 years ago

Photo

Third Time’s The Charm! Iceland Summer 2021 Trip Reflections

Though slightly different in feel and activities when compared to previous trips, this latest installment of Iceland travels was fun and productive in its own way.

When I helped plan this trip with Minh, because it was my third time to Iceland, it was important that I was able to visit and see places and do things that I hadn’t done before so that I could at least experience novel things, which can sometimes be difficult if you visit a country so many times. So it was a balancing act between letting others choose places they wanted to go, even if it meant that I had to revisit a ton of places, and choosing new places that I wanted to go. Of course, a lot of the places I asked to visit (because I had never visited them before) were time-consuming trips that led us to beautiful places located in difficult-to-get-to areas. And those characteristics made it slightly difficult to convince others on the trip that these places were worth the trouble. Or to convince myself that in our tight schedule, it would be worth it to spend a lot of time driving somewhere just to see one thing.

It’s always a little difficult (as I have learned more and more over the years traveling with my family) to travel the way you are used to traveling (i.e. solo or with only your partner) or want to travel when with others, especially your older parents, or with people who prioritize things that you don’t necessarily prioritize. These differences always lead to arguments or tempers, especially when people are tired or sleep deprived, especially for us on this trip. But at the end of the day, despite the messy mood in the car from time to time, Cynthia and the family genuinely enjoyed this trip to Iceland. Which, at the end of it all, is the most important thing.

And the success of our Iceland trip was really due to a few things.

Volcano chasing. Despite the unpredictability of erupting volcanoes and weather conditions in Iceland, we were fortunate enough to check off “active volcano eruption” from our life bucket lists. The biggest reason I decided to plan a trip to Iceland was to see the volcano. And luckily, not only were we able to see the eruption at Geldingadalsgos once, we were actually blessed with great conditions and were able to make it 2 for 2 in terms of successful trips to the erupting volcano. Not everyone who has attempted to see the erupting volcano/vent can say that.

Beautiful, non-rainy Icelandic weather. In Iceland, you can never predict the weather you’re going to get the next hour, the next day, throughout the next week. It’s always so unpredictable. And when the weather does turn sour, it turns horribly sour. Luckily for us, this trip was blessed with beautiful weather the entire 10 days we were there. We barely got even a sprinkle of rain on this trip. The wettest we probably got was at Dynjandi. And the windiest it got was our hike to the volcano on our first day. Otherwise, we were super lucky. It’s rare that you enjoy an Icelandic road trip with 80-90% of the time there filled with sunlight from the never-setting sun.

4WD and Waterfalls. The biggest difference between this trip and the two previous trips I took to Iceland was having a 4x4 car. Especially in the summer, having a 4x4 car in Iceland does wonders for travelers who are into nature and photography. Because we had a 4WD, we could drive comfortably and fast on gravel and dirt roads without feeling like our tires would die or we could mess something up. And because we had a 4WD, we could drive up mountain F roads and get to and see places that none of us had ever seen before, providing us, especially me and Minh, with brand new landscapes to view and capture. To be able to get off the main road and drive into the less-traveled interior of Iceland was amazing and something that I will do every time I go to Iceland going forward, weather and season permitting. And even though we didn’t get to see a ton in the highlands, the few things we did see were totally worth paying for 4WD!

Meeting up with friends in Iceland. On any international trip, it’s always awesome to be able to find time to meet with friends on your trip because it’s very rare that 1) you have friends in another country you can reach out to and meet up with and 2) you have friends from the States visiting somewhere at the same time as you are and whose itinerary intersects with yours, especially in a place like Iceland. For us, we were fortunate to not only meet up, eat with, and hike with our very good friends from Colorado, Maggie and Ben, but to also randomly run into Bryce Kam, a Stanford tennis class buddy, and his wife Ruby in the streets of Reykjavik. On top of that, despite a loaded schedule, we were able to successfully meet up with three groups of local Icelandic friends that I had kept in touch with over the years. Thorsteinn and Thordis. Sveinn and Kristin. And Kristin. It’s hard enough to find time in people’s busy schedules to meet up. But when you’re on a tight schedule yourself, it speaks volumes to how great your friends are when they make time to see you. So very thankful for my friends in Iceland and all over the globe who are always willing and excited to meet up when I visit!

Lodging Options. For the most part, we had great and comfortable relatively budget-friendly lodging options while in Iceland. Though we moved from place to place pretty frequently, we were able to enjoy ourselves in relatively comfortable AirBnBs, cabins, guesthouses, hotels, and suites at every stop along the way. And not only were the rooms comfortable, but the non-AirBnBs served great breakfasts. And the AirBnBs were conveniently located for downtown city explorations.

Traveling with Money. Traveling with money makes a huge difference in how comfortable you are on a trip and, sometimes, how much fun you can have on a vacation. And we definitely had fun while being relatively comfortable on this trip. Because this was the first time the now-fully-employed little kiddos planned and spent money on a family trip. With a financial cushion, we paid a little more to stay at nicer places. We ate nicer meals without feeling like we had to cut corners and be cheap to save money. We rented a 4x4 automatic midsize SUV, which is much more expensive than the regular cars we usually rent, which allowed us the opportunity to see new areas. And Cynthia and I were able to do an impromptu horseback riding trip without feeling like we were breaking the bank and emptying our wallets. And compared to how I traveled to Iceland as a poor pre-med student in 2013, this experience was totally different because of the financial flexibility that I earned for my hard work over all of these years.

Of course, with all the good parts of the trip listed above, there were aspects of the trip that I wish had been a bit better. I wish the lighting, the skies, and the overall photography conditions were better. Even though you have almost 24 hours of sunlight, sometimes, that’s not necessarily a good thing for trip-limited landscape photography. I wish the eruption in Geldingadalir and Fagradalsfjall was crazier with cool-looking lava waterfalls and lava streams and lava spews the two times we went so that my photographs would have turned out awesome-r. But unfortunately, it only started getting really cool about a week after we left, with the volcano now way more active (in spurts) and now overflowing with lava rivers and lava waterfalls carving their way through the dark landscape and dark nights. I wish we had maybe 5 to 7 more days in Iceland. If we did, we could have slowed things down and spaced out our driving a little more so that we didn’t feel like we were driving most of the day. With more time, we would’ve been able to sleep in on more days. With more time, we would’ve been able to fit in some of the sights that we skipped due to time constraints (though part of the trip’s time constraints was due to something we couldn’t have predicted or planned for). And with more time, we would’ve been able to spend more time in Reykjavik soaking up the city life and meeting up with friends without having to stuff it all into a 24-hour period.

But at the end of the day, we made the most of our trip, saw spectacular things, had fun with the family and with friends, and made it home safely. You can’t really ask for anything more than that when going on a slightly last-minute trip during the COVID pandemic with older parents and with Cynthia working remotely and making a huge trip out of the original idea of solo volcano hunting. Nothing is perfect but at least we all had a great time and came home with great memories and photos to share!

And to end my trip reflection, just a quick word/phrase dump of things that I’ll remember most from Iceland v3:

Erupting Volcano/Vent With No Name. Geldingadalir. Fagradalsfjall. Highland Waterfalls. Zooming with 4WD. Midnight Sun. Gravel Roads. Cynthia Half-Days. Colorful Puffins. Chasing Waterfalls. Short and Stubby Horses. Sunrise and Sunset. Friends. 2021 Kia Sportage. Myvatn. Friendly Locals. Good Food. Homecooking. Restaurants. Sleep Deprivation. Engagement Photos. Third Time. Fjords. F Roads. Right Heel Pain. Photos Galore. Midnight Volcano Hike. COVID-19. Mom and Icelandic Names. Windy. Lupines. Hikes. Free Delicious Breakfasts. Trip Delay. Pandemic Travels.

Trip Superlatives

Best Waterfalls:

1. Haifoss

2. Sigöldugljúfur

3. Dynjandi

4. Svartifoss

5. Hrafnabjargafoss

6. Aldeyjarfoss

7. Kirkjufellsfoss

8. Skogafoss

9. Seljalandsfoss

10. Goðafoss

Best Photo Opps:

1. The Geldingadalsgos Eruption

2. The Colorful Puffins at Borgarfjörður eystri

3. The Icelandic Wildflowers Everywhere

4. Vestrahorn at Sunrise

5. The South Highland Waterfalls (Haifoss and Sigöldugljúfur)

Most Incredible Views:

1. The Geldingadalsgos Eruption

2. The Lupine Fields in South Iceland

3. The Colorful Puffins at Borgarfjörður eystri

4. Dynjandi Waterfall and Cascade

5. The South Highland Waterfalls (Haifoss and Sigöldugljúfur)

6. Fjord Views in the East Fjords

7. Sunset/Sunrise Skies

Best Hike:

1. Erupting Volcano/Vent-Viewing Hike at Geldingadalsgos

2. Dynjandi Waterfall Hike in the Westfjords

3. Svartifoss Hike at Skaftafell in Vatnajokull National Park

Most Underwhelming Sights:

1. Asbyrgi Canyon

2. Aldeyjarfoss

3. Vestrahorn at Sunset

Best Accommodation:

1. Sel Hotel Myvatn in Myvatn

2. Our AirBnBs in Akureyri and Reykjavik

3. Black Beach Suites Outside of Vik

Best Homemade Meals:

1. Huy’s Icelandic Hot Dogs for Lunch

2. Modge Podge Leftovers Mi Xao for Dinner

3. Hot Sausage/Egg/Bread for Breakfast

Best Restaurant Meal:

1. Lunch at Salka in Husavik

2. Dinner at The Restaurant at Sel Hotel Myvatn in Myvatn

3. Dinner at Strondin Pub in Vik

Best Accommodation Breakfast:

1. Breakfast Spread at Sel-Hotel Myvatn in Myvatn

2. Breakfast Spread at Malarhorn Guesthouse

3. Breakfast at Guesthouse Nypugardar

Best Dessert/Bakery:

1. Pastries at Sandholt Reykjavik on Laugavegar in Reykjavik

2. Soft-Serve Ice Cream at Ísbúðin Akureyri

3. Orange Cheesecake from Blaa Kannan Cafe in Akureyri

4. Pastries from Kristjan’s Bakari in Akureyri

Best Road Trip Snack:

1. Savory Snacks (Chips, Chex Mix)

2. Fruit Snacks

3. Pastries and Baked Goods

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