For a prompt maybe Marco/Ace? Featuring Ace having Hanahaki Disease towards Marco? 🙈💖
"You look exhausted," Marco says slowly, raising an eyebrow at the stack of papers that Ace slams down on his desk. "Did someone get sick?"
"I," Ace says tiredly. "Am coughing up flowers. Please remove them from my lungs. I've spent the last six hours trying to burn them out and failing horribly. Then, I did that," he gestures at the paperwork as he falls back into a chair. "I hate paperwork."
Marco hums, skimming the top page. There's a handful of flower petals taped to the sample square, but nothing to identify them, which meant that Ace hadn't recognized them. Which actually knocked a number of them out of the running, since Ace could identify anything with medical or nutritional value.
"If I missed something, I will throw myself into the ocean."
"Don't. Namur might just let you drown," Marco states, turning to the next page and skimming it curiously. "I thought you would have told me if you had fallen in love."
"Yeah, apparently magical flowers get to know I've fallen in love before I do. I didn't even get a chance to confess, not that it would change the fact you have to remove the flowers."
"There's still time, I don't have time to do this surgery for at least a few more days," Marco taps his pen against the date written almost too neatly as the start date. "You got this in faster than I expected."
"Flowers are not fun to cough up, Marco."
"Petals, you're not going to be too advanced by Wednesday. Think you can hold out until then?"
Ace frowns, eyes narrowing for a moment before he nods, "Unless I start coughing up whole flowers, I should be fine? It's just uncomfortable."
"I'll start running tests to see what strand you've picked up, but it's probably the same kind that I had to remove from Izou last month. When you figure out who it is, let them know. It's awkward enough having to watch those two dance around each other again because Izou had to bring home the kind that doesn't go away after confession and reciprocation."
"Yeah, it'll be fun," Ace rolls his eyes, standing up slowly to crack his back. "Hope you can convince me to fall in love with you all over again when Kotatsu still hates you."
Marco groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I am going to take your cat back to the island you got it from and have Thatch tell you it died."
"No you won't, you're going to try and trick him into helping you win me over a second time. And just think, now that I've had this strand, at least I won't be able to catch it again."
"Would have preferred that you never caught it to begin with," Marco yawns, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll make sure there's ice cream after the surgery."
Ace leans close, brushing a kiss to his temple, "At least we won't take as long to work things out as Shanks and Benn did. Poor Benn, catching a strand that actually erases the memories instead of just the feelings."
"Helps that you spit out an invitation for a date two days after officially joining the crew," Marco adds, tugging Ace down into a proper kiss. "Go arrange things. I'll be here."
"If you figure out what flower that is, let me know. I know it's not roses, but it's been bothering me."
"I'll let you know as soon as the results are back."
Summary: Static electricity was enough to cause a strange problem, and Marco's losing his mind over it. He can hear your thoughts, and your on his mind way more than he expected.
Random inspiration, and completely self-indulgent.
Marco felt like he was losing his mind at first.
As far as he could tell it had just been a simple static shock between the two of you the other day. The build up of static in the current dry climate had just made the random brushing of fingers as you two worked together bite more than it should of.
Enough to cause you both to pull your hands back and shake them, laughing over it easily.
There hadn’t been anything else. No odd weather. No strange devil fruits or devil fruit users. No curses or odd alignment of the stars. Just that one unexpected crackle of dry electricity between you both.
And now he had a problem.
He could hear your thoughts.
And they were… detailed.
He was infamous for being able to keep calm. Thatch needled him all the time for how he looked on the brink of a nap every waking moment of any given day. He might be the First Division Commander, but he was easily approachable, and exceptionally laid back.
He’d worked to be that way. He didn’t want anyone to feel as though they needed to stay at arms’ length with him. But your thoughts were going to break him.
You thought about the shape of his lips. Wondered if he could transform just his tongue, and how deep it could go. You thought about the shape of his teeth against your skin, how it’d feel to have his talons at your throat. You wondered if he had a knot because of his devil fruit, and seemed fairly well convinced he could keep going all night.
He was flattered, and flabbergasted.
His second major problem was the simple fact that you were his assistant. There was no avoiding you.
Not that he wanted to avoid you, but until he could figure out how to un-hear your thoughts he was desperate for a break. He had been mostly certain you found him at least a little attractive - lucky him, he was pretty smitten with you himself, but as the commander he wasn’t going to pressure you like that.
That was less of an issue now. Your thoughts weren’t just lewd, you held him in high regard and seemed to love him dearly, but knowing all of it because of whatever this was, felt wrong. He couldn’t act on things he wasn’t supposed to know.
Two weeks later he was losing his mind. He’d even tried to create another static charge between you in the hope that it would sever whatever happened.
It hadn’t worked.
The night before last he’d been walking down the halls and gotten too close to you. There was, it seemed, a range limit, and there were plenty of places he could escape to for his own sake.
Marco, please.
He froze, standing in the hall and realizing that he was coming up on the showers.
Fuck I just want you to touch me, play with my tits. Lick my clit. I want to see those beautiful eyes looking up at me while you’re between my thighs.
He’d put his hands over his face, but that wasn’t going to block out the sound of your voice in his head. Nothing in his body wanted to move. If anything he was desperate to get closer. To give you everything you wanted of him.
Instead he stood there and listened to you fantasize about him until he could hear relief wash through you.
The way you always thought about wanting to fall asleep in his arms after you came was the hottest part of all of it. The wet spot in the front of his pants was a recurring issue, but he was able to get himself out of the hallway before you left the bath. It was everything he had in him to not just palm himself right there in the hall.
He could endure it. He had more self-control than that. He could.
He would.
He did.
Until he finally cracked.
The two of you were doing inventory for the medical supplies. Despite the size of the ship, Marco’s supplies and his office were relatively small. The crew was strong, haki stopped most injuries, devil fruits many others, and his devil fruit meant there was really only a need for major injury type supplies.
But even if the stock was small compared to the crew size, it was still important to keep it tallied and organized correctly.
You’d picked up a box of rolled up gauze spools and the thought in your head went straight into his.
I wonder if there’s enough gauze in here for him to tie me up and muffle the sounds while he fucks me stupid? Fuck that’d be hot.
He heard you sigh, soft as it was.
Marco’s amazing though, there’s no way he’d look at someone like me.
“Oi.” Marco says, setting down what he was working on and coming over to where you were knelt by the box of gauze rolls.
“Hm? Did you need something…” You look up and the words fade on your lips. Marco’s looking down at you with a strange expression. “… Commander?”
Marco looks up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath before he kneels down and looks right into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yoi.”
“S-sorry? Sorry for what?”
“… I’ve been able to hear your thoughts.” He begins, as you stare at him blankly for a second. “For the last couple of weeks.”
“My… how?”
“I don’t know, yoi.” He admits, rubbing his forehead. “We had that static shock a couple weeks ago and since then…”
“Since… my thoughts.” You stammer, understanding dawning on you as blush dusts Marco’s face.
“All of your thoughts.” He asserts.
Holy shit Marco’s blushing!
“Oi! Hey, stop - stop thinking!” He snaps, face burning bright red.
You clamp your hands over your mouth, even though you hadn’t said anything out loud.
All my thoughts?
Marco flinches. “All of them.”
Oh no.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner I-.”
“No it’s… it’s… I wouldn’t know what to say either.” You admit, hands on his shoulders, head down, eyes closed. “I… I should apologize.”
“Don’t.”
Your eyes open and you look up at him in surprise. He can’t hold your gaze for long before he looks away.
“You can think of me… however you want.” He clears his throat and looks back at you. “But… don’t think about yourself like that, please.”
“Like…?”
“There’s no way he’d look at someone like me.” He says, repeating your earlier thought. Your eyes go wide, and gratefully for you both your mind goes blank. Marco smiles, it’s soft and warm and he reaches out, brushing his finger tips against your cheek. “You’re beautiful, yoi.”
“I…”
“I’ve been listening to you praise me for weeks.” Marco says, his voice soft and low, eyes hooded, as he leans a little closer. “I’d be honored to… exceed that praise.”
“I - I… I…” Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water a few times, and it’s a credit to Marco being Marco that he’s keeping a straight face.
He leans forward, cheeky grin pulling at his lips, as he moves so he can speak right by your ear. Words meant for you and no one else. Not that anyone else was in the room with you both right now anyway.
“I can transform just my tongue.”
Your hands flinch against him and you can’t stop the nervous whimper that escapes you. The stark realization of everything he had to have heard sinks into you.
Holy fucking hells.
His hands are on your arms. You could pull away if you wanted, but he wanted to make sure you knew it was okay to stay. Okay to keep your hands on him. Okay for him to know your thoughts because he wasn’t going to hold them against you.
“I…”
“Take your time, yoi.” His voice is warm and reassuring. “You can just think it.”
I’m so embarrassed.
“Don’t be, you’re allowed to think what you want.”
You’re so hot it’s not fair.
The soft chuckle sends a thrill down your spine. “I’m flattered, pretty bird.”
I’m nobody, I’m just-
“You.” He says, gripping your arms a little harder and leaning back so he could look into your eyes. “Are everything.”
You suck in a breath in such surprise that you nearly hiccup. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes as emotions crash inside you. It was a whirlwind situation and you didn’t know what to think. It didn’t matter if he could read your mind, there was nothing you could even hold onto.
“I’ve… loved you… for a long time.” He says finally. “As your commander I didn’t think it was fair for me to say anything.” He explains. “But -.”
“I love you, too.” You manage to say, the words that had been stuck in your throat finally coming free. Tears spill down your cheeks alongside the words and you hide your face in his shoulder. “Don’t listen to my thoughts!”
“I can’t block them out, yoi.” Marco retorts, laughing as he hugs you, fingers against your back.
“I feel so bad,” you admit, words muffled against his shoulder.
“For what?”
“I objectified you so bad.”
“Your thoughts are your thoughts, it’s okay. You didn’t say anything unwelcome.” He assures you. “You didn’t smack my ass.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know, yoi.”
“It’s a perfect ass.”
“Oi. You’re killing me.” He sighs.
“It’s gotta be all those aerial maneuvers.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“You can hear everything?”
“Mm. There’s no overlap when you talk, and it’s not like it’s so loud it drowns out everything else.” He explains. “But it’s still your voice.”
“Mm.”
“And since I like the sound of your voice,” he begins.
“Don’t, no, no, no, don’t say that.” It was too embarrassing.
“But you don’t moan in your thoughts.” He continues, going down a line of thought you hadn’t expected. “I don’t… yet… know what that sounds like.”
You can feel the shiver roll through your body, trembling against the hug Marco has you in. A shivering sigh, part moan part whimper, escapes between your teeth as you tilt your head up, letting the involuntary sound out right by his ear.
“That… is not nearly enough, yoi.” His voice sinks into your skin. “I want to hear more.”
Please.
“Say it.”
“Marco.” You sigh his name and as far as he’s concerned there’s nothing else in existence.
He lifts you up easily, one arms under your thighs as he almost puts you over his shoulder when he stands up. You yelp in surprise and laugh as you hear him clear supplies off the desk behind you before he sits you on the desk. His hands are on either side of your thighs, and he’s bent down enough to be face to face with you.
“Kiss me,” he commands and you lean forward, closing the small gap between you both, brushing your lips against his. Dry and warm, you lick your lips and close your eyes, leaning in again and slipping a hand around his shoulder, tugging him closer as his hands leave the desk to grip your hips.
You moan sweetly as the kisses deepen, letting the satisfied sound rattle against your ribs. His hands shift up your sides, pulling your shirt up as they move further and further up. When you raise your arms up over your head he grabs the gathered clothing and pulls it up and off, tossing it aside before putting his hands on your skin.
You lean back against the sensation, biting your lower lip and moaning.
Marco’s kisses trail down your neck and over your collarbone, his fingers undoing the hooks of your bra with unexpected struggle.
“Need a hand?”
“Nope,” he says as he finally gets the troublesome hook to let go.
He pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside, his lips barely leaving your skin. You slip the straps of your bra down, leaning back against the hand against your back, helping to steady you as he bends lower, raining kisses on your stomach as he gives you room to toss the bra aside. Your fingers dance along the back of his head as he works his kisses back up your stomach toward your breasts.
“Lean back, yoi.” He murmurs, guiding you to lay back against the desk. Your legs curl around his waist as his hands move over you. A heavy lick against your nipple pulls a sweet sound from your lips. He presses a finger against your tongue, letting you roll the muscle against the pad of his finger. His other hand teases the other breast as his mouth works against your flesh.
Moaning against his finger your mind fills with thoughts on how good it feels. How he could do this forever if he wanted. How it feels so much better than you had imagined.
“Ruthless.” He mutters against your skin, sucking the stiff nipple a little roughly as his fingers pinch the other, sending jolts of pleasure into your chest like lightning. You cry euphorically against his finger, body tensing from the delicious sensations.
“More, please, Marco, more.” You gasp as he teases you. “It feels… so good, ahhhnmmm ♥”
He straightens up a little too fast, his hips hitting against the desk roughly. You can feel his stiff cock against your thigh through the layers of clothing.
“Don’t rush, yoi.” He teases, bringing your legs together and tugging your pants over your hips and up your legs.
“He says as he pulls my pants off.” You tease, letting your bare legs fall back open on either side of his waist.
He sticks his tongue out at you, and it keeps going, long and tapered, wiggling at you as he kneels down in front of the desk.
He pauses, gaze locked on yours. The look on his face makes the blood rush through you. He can hear your thoughts, and your words are at odds you know, but you don’t know what to think.
He watches you, and slowly sticks his tongue back out, pressing it right against the hood of your clit. His gaze stays on you as the tongue shifts, flicking and teasing your clit and sending delicious chills through you.
Oh I’m going to cum screaming.
“That’s the plan, yoi.” He says, taking his eyes off yours and leaning down, mouth wide as his hands spread your labia apart and give him better access.
“Fuck.” You husk the word as his lips and tongue sink into you. Your hands are against his head, torn between wanting to push him deeper and wanting to pull him off. The pleasure of his lips against yours, the twist and push of his devious tongue, the skill and motivation of his own desires left you to do little more than hold on for dear life.
Swears dribbled past your lips, broken and half-spoken between gasps and whimpers as your thoughts melted into less coherent concepts.
There, there, oh fuck!
Marco had no qualms about using your thoughts against you and assailed you with a mix of his own skill, and you’re involuntary instruction.
The first time you came against his tongue the pleasure had coiled your muscles too much for you to cry out. Your breath was frozen in your lungs as taut muscles curled your entire body for a few long seconds.
You were finally able to breathe out, a shivering whimpering sound before you breathed in deep body trembling from the pleasure as he continued to eat you out. He gave your insides a break, suckling on your clit and flicking his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves.
“Wait, wait, please, Marco I’m gonna - gonna - HNNNGGGGH-.” Your body tenses again and you manage to pull in a breath between shivering teeth before finally crying out in pleasure.
He’s ruthless, continuing to focus on your clit as he pushes a finger in your trembling cunt.
“FUCK!” All you can think is that you’ve never cum so hard before, and never so many times in quick succession. It’s building again, and you can’t stop it, and you don’t want to stop it. He’s going to make you black out before he’s even inside you but it feels so good.
He pushes in deep enough to find the reaction he’s looking for, curling his finger inside you. Your hands slam onto the desk as your hips buck. You’re trying to move away from the pleasure, half of you wanting it, half of you worried you’ll lose control.
“Please, please, please,” you whimper the words, unsure if you’re begging for him to stop or continue. He pulls his finger out when you’re close, but you don’t have time to calm down as his tongue coils inside you again, beating against the same sweet spot his finger had found. One hand’s splayed out on your stomach, holding you as still as he can. The thumb of his other hand is teasing your clit.
“Marco! MARCO!” His eyes shift up, catching your gaze for a split second before you cum against his tongue again. You fill the room with a euphoric sound before collapsing against the desk. Heavy panting breaths move your chest up and down, but you don’t have the energy to try and raise your head to look at him right now.
He slowly pulls his tongue out, reveling in the sweet little mewls that escape you due to the over stimulation. He hadn’t meant to bring you to orgasm three times in a row. You were delicious, and sensitive, and the cheat of being able to hear your thoughts made it impossible to deny your desires.
You might just be his favorite meal.
Sweat slicked your body, cooling you in the comfortable room. Marco wipes his lips with the back of his hand before he moves over you, placing soft kisses against your stomach, making a lazy trail up your torso as you catch your breath. He’s careful not to kiss you anywhere too sensitive, and he uses his normal tongue when he licks your lips, before kissing them softly.
“You sound,” he begins, kissing against the line of your jaw as you turn your head for him. “Even better,” the lick against your neck makes you gasp quietly, moaning as he nips at the shell of your ear. “Than I imagined.”
His hand is hot against your leg, and he lifts it slowly, putting your ankle on his shoulder. He kisses your ankle before pressing against you. You can feel his cock, thick and twitching, hot and heavy along your thigh.
“How are you holding up, pretty bird?”
Tired.
“I’m good.”
“Tired?”
You nod. “Yeah, but not exhausted.”
“I’ll be gentle, yoi.” He promises, kissing you before he brings your other leg up to his shoulder.
“F-fuck me rough later?” You question, looking away from him in embarrassment. You wanted to say your thought instead of just thinking it.
“Look at me, yoi.” He commands and you manage it even if the heat in your face is making you a little dizzy. “Whenever,” He begins and you can feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “And however you want.”
Marco presses in slowly, holding your gaze with his, drinking in every detail of the expression on your face as he pushes slowly into you. You’re so wet from everything else there’s no real pain, just a soft sweet ache as you stretch ever so gently to accommodate him.
He’s filling you up far deeper than anyone or anything had ever done so before, and you can feel tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. It’s not just how good it feels, it’s because it’s him. A shift of his hips is enough and you can feel him flush against you.
“All in,” he sighs, rolling his hips and shifting inside you. “You,” he gasps softly as you twitch against him. “Are perfect, pretty bird.”
That’s too much. “Don’t s-say that,” you whimper the words, covering your face with your hands.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions rhetorically, pulling back slowly until it’s just his tip inside you, before pushing back in just as slow. You nod from behind your hands and Marco reaches out, pulling them away from your face.
“Let me see you, yoi.” He requests, pulling out and pushing back in the same slow and deliberate pace as before. “Let me hear you, pretty bird.”
“Marco, please,” you sigh, his long slow exacting movements are already driving you insane.
“The sun hasn’t set yet,” he muses, devious grin on his lips as he continues. As he leans back against you again he continues to press, leaning down over you until he’s stretched your legs back, bringing your knees nearly to your chest. “But I bet I can do this until the sun comes up, yoi.”
“Suh-someone will come in,” you moan as he pushes in again, grinding against your clit a little in the new position.
Marco grins, eyes bright with his flames. “Half the ship heard you screaming my name earlier.” He says, as your mind stutters.
“No one would dare to bother us right now.” The long slow motion is beginning to pick up pace, slowing only when his hips press against you. He takes a second to tease your clit before continuing.
“Oh gods, oh gods,” you gasp, caught between the slow build of pleasure and the mortifying realization that the ship heard you screaming your commander’s name in such a lust-filled way.
“Just think about me, yoi.” Marco asserts, catching your gaze with his as he thrusts into you heavier than before. “Feels good.”
You nod. “It feels,” your hands are on his arms as he pushes in deep, nails digging into his skin. “Amazing!”
“Don’t worry about anything else, pretty bird.” He huffs, picking the up the pace and sending ripples into your body with the deep thrusts. “Everyone can know you’re mine, yoi.”
He pushes in fast, pushing the air from your lungs and grinding heavy against your clit as he leans down and kisses you. Your legs ache a little from the stretch, but he lets up before it hurts.
“I’m yours too, yoi.” He assures you, adjusting a little until you’re crying out every time he bullies the sweet spot inside you. “You scream my name,” he huffs, desperately trying to hold out a little longer. “Because I’m yours.”
“Yeah,” you gasp, nodding as the pleasure is already coiling around you. “Mine, hnnngh, yuh-you’re mine.” Your breath is coming out hot and needy, fingers desperate to hold onto him as the pleasure builds. “Please, fuck, Marco, it feels so good. I can’t, I can’t.” It’s too much I’m going to scream again.
“Don’t hold back,” his voice is more growl than anything else. “Sing for me. Just me.”
Marco slams you into your orgasm, using every trick he knows, and guided by your jumbled and desperate thoughts. His lips capture yours, devouring the melodic cry, and swallowing the euphoric sound with his lungs. This particular song was only for him.
Someday, one day, he’d let you sing with all your might. Maybe in a cabin, set just a little ways away from the rest of a small village, where no one else but the morning birds would dare to listen.
Grian gets spooked and his avian tendencies make him stress grip the ceiling of the Barge. Scar encounters him in this awkward predicament.
-------------------------
Grian was in a bit of a pickle.
His day had been fairly normal:
He mined ten full shulker boxes of sand and gravel to restock at the Barge.
He avoided the back of his base like a plague.
He fed Mumbo’s weird sentient base… all very normal, non stressful activities.
Inside the Barge, as Grian was opening the chests to collect his diamonds, he suddenly slipped and set off a firework rocket. It made a loud BANG sound, and left lots of pretty purple paper bits all over the floor that were going to be a pain to get out later. It had been mostly harmless really, only a tick or two of damage, but on instinct Grian jumped and grabbed onto the campfire-thatched ceiling of his upper floor for dear life.
This would not have been a problem, were it not for the fact that his talons had caught the wood in a stress grip, and now he couldn’t let go.
Grian was stuck on the ceiling.
He sighed. It wasn’t often that his avian behaviors interfered with his day to day, but boy did they choose the most awkward times! Grian stretched his wings in annoyance.
Okay! Let's assess the damage:
His entire left foot’s talons were wrapped securely around the campfire wood on the roof of the barge. He had no control over the vice-like grip strength that his talons held in these situations. Depending on the level of stress that induced it, this could keep him stuck for anywhere from minutes to hours.
His right hand had grasped a fence post on the wall to stable himself in his fright. That grip was less… grippy? His knuckles were still white with tension, but in his experience he was usually able to gain control over his hand far more quickly. Grian wasn’t really sure why, maybe it was because his feet were more bird-like, and his hands were less so? He wasn’t going to question it.
Right foot, left hand, and both wings free to flail idly while he waited. And bump awkwardly into all his chests.
With a bit of focus and begrudgingly calm breathing, Grian managed to dislodge his other hand. Great! Now he could hang upside down like a bat while he waited for his foot to be less grippy. Nothing to see here, just an average day at the Barge, doing his stretches…
Grian really hoped no one came in to see him like this.
But it seemed luck was not in his favor today, as he began to hear singing in the distance growing slowly louder as someone approached. And singing generally only meant the arrival of one person in particular.
“Why, hello there! What are you up to on this fine afternoon Grian? Hanging around?”
Grian leveled Scar with his most unimpressed expression, though the effect was slightly diminished by his predicament. Scar shamelessly eyed the avian down and up, undeterred.
Growing a little self conscious of his jumper slipping and showing his stomach, Grian adjusted his arms so he was leaning extremely casually against the wall. Very casual and also comfortable. He hoped Scar left soon because he could not keep this up for long.
“Hello Scar. I’m doing quite well actually! Just doing my daily stretches.”
Scar nodded sagely, “Ohh I see! Always good to stay fit, that’s good, keep the muscles strong.”
“Yes, precisely! So, did you need something?”
“Hmm, I actually came by looking for some lanterns, but I think I’ll do some leisurely shopping around the Barge! I’m sure you don’t mind, do you, Grian?”
Grian did mind, actually! He minded very much, Scar! Grian cursed his bird luck under his breath, but gritted out “Don’t you have some mayoral duties to attend to? More evil lasers to build?”
“It’s not evil! It has solar panels,” Scar said as he brought himself face to face with the hanging avian, placing his hands on the sides of Grian’s shoulders, “And besides. I’m much more intrigued on what’s going on with you. I think you’re lying, pesky bird.”
Grian felt his face grow hot. He tried to shift away, to no avail.
“Scar…”
“C’mon! You can tell me, what's up?”
“..... I’m a bit stuck.”
“Really?!” Scar gasped, “Stuck in your own shop? If this isn’t Grian-safe, it surely isn’t Scar safe… I may need to write you a citation!”
“No, no, it's like a bird thing. I got spooked by a rocket and then I stress-gripped the ceiling.”
Scar’s face lit up in a way that usually did not mean good things for Grian.
“Oh, I can help you calm down! Hold on right there Grian, I’ve got just the wizard crystal for this occasion…”
“I really don’t think that's needed here,” Grian protested as Scar rifled through his enderchest, coming out triumphantly with a pink piece of glass.
“Here we go! A one of a kind calming crystal just for you! Oh, and I can go get Jellie for you as well, she’s very calm…”
In the midst of Scar’s rambling, Grian felt his talons release from the ceiling. He tumbled gracelessly to the floor, taking out Scar in the process and landing them both in a tangled heap on the ground.
“You deserved that,” said Grian fondly, making no move to get off of Scar.
Scar looked up at him with a smile, “Another satisfied customer! Can I interest you in a bulk deal?”
Had the funny thought about how Nikia being dumped into a pre established Thatch/Izou dynamic would accidentally reintroduce bad habits from both of them they claimed to have outgrown in the early stages of their relationship.
Like, I imagine Thatch isn't afraid to throw down and was %1000 ready to do that for his bae at the slightest hint of offense. Like, it was a fucking PROBLEM how quick he was to sock someone who insulted Izou. It was partly out of a strong desire to defend someone that matters so much (in a new, emotionally vulnerable way) to him and partly because he's a bit of a possessive/protective menace to society.
Most pirates get weird about 'their' shit and people, to be honest. Thatch just happens to be people friendly most of the time.
Izou is, naturally, quite offended at the implication he can't handle himself. It took several incidents and a few arguments to chill Thatch out.
He didn't change his stance on the topic. He just learned it was less trouble to let Izou shoot their kneecaps himself instead of leaping to his defense at every opportunity.
For Izou, he used to be a massive shit and bait the fuck out of people who showed interest. Mostly in himself but also Thatch. The amount of pirates he got good by letting them spend several minutes talking about how 'beautiful of a lady' he is before ripping them to shreds in a deep, rolling voice. Really weaponized his appearance to nip any perceived threats at the bud. So in essence, he was hardly an better than Thatch.
Thatch had to intervene and get him to lay off because it started getting out of hand in how quickly Izou did it to ANYONE that approached either of them. And not even for flirting reasons. It became a knee jerk reaction. Izou reluctantly agreed and started saving it for the real creeps that needed to be taken down several pegs.
So when Nikia pops up, shy and avoiding confrontation as she is, they both backslide into old habits hard. Not for each other, because they'd already communicated how much they hated it for their own reasons. But specifically when Nikia is involved.
Izou starts to get riled up cause of all the fights Thatch gets into and tries to talk to Nikia about it. Getting her up to speed with the trouble they both got into the last time these bad habits kicked up.
Only to see, much to his horror (and intrigue) that she didn't... Terribly mind. Like, she didn't like confrontation but she'd be lying badly if she claimed it wasn't... Very flattering how they both got over her interacting with strangers.
Like... Really flattering.
She's embarrassed about it though and it takes a bit of prodding to have a proper conversation.
After a long, honest talk, they agree to some boundaries because it really did get out of control last time. Thatch is thrilled to be allowed to show off his skills (even if it's a bit caveman like at times) and Izou can indulge his sadistic tendencies with barbs and flustering Nikia to scare off people bothering them.
The boys assume Nikia doesn't have a particularly possessive, protective, or sadistic streak.
Wrongly.
It's just an on/off switch because she doesn't entertain games with her feelings. If someone insults them and think they can get away with it, the won't.
And unlike the boys, her range is very, very impressive. And she has one rule.
One shot. One kill.
It's a bit more final than theirs, which is why it takes so long for it to show. She doesn't like to lose her temper, preferring to bury it... But if she absolutely can't?
Another crew manages to insult them and get away before they can be caught, jeering into the sunset. And Nikia just quietly goes to her room and comes back not five minutes later equipped for a short flight with her rifle.
"Uh, baby?!? What's that for!? You're not thinking of teaching them a lesson, are you?"
"Of course not."
"Oh, good. They're not worth it, sweetie--"
"You don't learn anything after you're dead. This is an execution."
And then she's gone. Up in the air for barely a minute, thunder snapping through the air as she fires for each person that pissed her off.
Then, like nothing happens, she sits on deck and cleans her newly fired gun before putting it away in her room. Kissing their cheeks as she goes.
"...That was hot, right?"
"Oh, absolutely. I thought she'd be the soft one out of the three of us."
Some notes about Dezoka’s formative experiences; why she decided to abandon her post as a changeling and join up with the Gumm-Gumms on the frontlines, what she believes is at stake if Gunmar falls, and some speculating on shenanigans during a low-key return to the surface - at least before any world-changing operations.
+As a whelp she had a knack for dodging, climbing, sneaking, and escaping, but she was not at all inclined to fight. It was figured that if she had any use, it would probably be in learning subterfuge and how to blend in with and spy on humans. Not to say that being a changeling is at all easy - it was simply the role that she seemed to have something of a shot at, particularly if she could maintain a low-level information-gathering position. Besides, if she couldn’t manage to sharpen her fangs among fleshbags, she wouldn’t last long anyway.
+In her youth, trolls and humans were constantly fighting over territory and resources. And to her eyes, the Gumm-Gumms were the only ones willing to stand up to the humans while everyone else hid. At the time, she was prone to hiding, too. She didn’t want to get hurt, but the more she thought about it, the more she despised the idea of anyone else getting hurt on her behalf, or just because she was too afraid to stand up. That was a crucial shift for her, and is the core of her idealized vision of the Gumm-Gumms and their Underlord, and why she wants to be one of them.
+That particular shift happened while witnessing a human raid on a troll village, where a small group of Gumm-Gumms were stuck fighting the humans off. She was already integrated with a human peasant family, and prone to sneaking out to trollish villages, markets, and hideouts. She understood enough to know that she wouldn’t be welcome among trolls, but it was enough to hide nearby and take in familiar sights, sounds, and scents of an older home she couldn’t quite remember. When the raid hit, she knew she might die if she tried to fight, but she also knew that if she just ran, she’d regret it forever. So she made a nuisance of herself, mostly by distracting and disrupting the humans’ tactics; tripping them, stealing their weapons, and switching to human form to avoid death by sunlight while propping up temporary shade for the real fighters. The Gumm-Gumms won that fight just as their reinforcements arrived, and she scampered off as quickly as she could, feeling like her whole world had just opened up. She knew where she wanted to spend her life, and commenced planning to get there.
+She was rather judgmental toward Dwoza for their initial “keep our heads down until this blows over” policy. The humans didn’t seem to care what faction a troll belonged to, they were ready to kill any they found. So it felt to her like Dwoza was using the Gumm-Gumms as a convenient and expendable shield against a common enemy, and she couldn’t pretend she had any respect for (what she saw as) a decision to just stand back and let others take all the risks for them. Dwoza siding with the humans at Killahead surprised and confused the hell out of her for a good long while. She’s had centuries to think (and occasionally rant) about it, and has come to think of Merlin’s Amulet as both a bribe (a powerful weapon to convince Dwoza to side with them) and a Trojan Horse (to make trolls keep themselves in line, prioritizing the wellbeing of humans over themselves). Hearing that it’s most recent champion is human just looks to her like the mask coming off. Trolls may have wielded it for centuries, but it has remained a human weapon all along.
+(Almost) nothing will supersede her loyalty to Gunmar. He’s her king, and her hero, and she believes in his vision for the future.
+The only exception that might contest her loyalty is the safety of her familiar. Dezoka doesn’t like being a changeling, but she has fond memories of her familiar’s family, and loves Danica like a little sister, and has gone to great lengths to hide her, and wants to find some way to give her a good, secure life.
+Due to her experiences, she is willing to fight and kill humans if she believes it is necessary - especially where the wellbeing of trolls is concerned, and she follows Gunmar’s judgement of that - but she also understands that humans are not so simple as to be easily summed up. If she has a soft spot for them, it’s a small one, tinged with distant memories of songs and stories around fire-pits, careful instruction on how to fell a tree, re-thatch a leaky roof, or weave fibers into cloth, scary and thrilling stories about trolls, and comforting, well-meaning arms when the loneliness of her secret got overwhelming. They’re not evil, and she doesn’t have the luxury of kidding herself. They’re just people. Albeit, people who have a tendency of causing problems for trolls.
+Secretly disinclined to eat human flesh, but not out of any notion that humans are special. If offered (and not pressured into eating it by someone of higher rank, or if not currently starving), she’ll “save it for later” and use it for bartering, bribes, or gifts. Fighting and killing them is one thing, but “cleaning up after” (while practical, especially when food is scarce) often comes with a lot of “this is your place, you arrogant fleshbags” / “we’re superior to you” baggage that ruins her appetite anyway - partly because she knows that’s exactly how she’ll be treated if anyone finds out she’s Impure. And she believes she doesn’t have to think of humans as prey, or reassure herself with stories about natural hierarchy, in order to fight them effectively. And unless it has to do with orders from her king and superiors, or keeping her team functioning well, she doesn’t give a damn about hierarchy or “one’s rightful place” anyway. She made her own.
+Dezoka has heard scary reports of what a trashfire the fleshbags have turned the Surface into while the Gumm-Gumms have been locked away. She’s upset about it, and she believes the Eternal Night is important not just for Trollkind, but for the Surface itself. As she sees it, someone’s gotta get the humans to back off, or they’ll just keep doing more damage (pollution, mass extinction, etc) until they, too, die out, and leave the Surface an even more barren wasteland than the Darklands. And having everyone (regardless of species) retreat to the Darklands just to survive a little longer would be the most tragic failure/death/defeat imaginable, in her mind. She believes that without Gunmar, that would be the way the world ends, so it is absolutely paramount that he survives and succeeds.
+She has a hard time getting close to people. Partly because death is fairly common in the Darklands, and partly because anyone finding out her secret would risk getting both her and her familiar killed, and she wants to limit those chances. She can bundle with others for warmth, tackle someone out of the way of a projectile, or appreciate and crack jokes with her fellows in grim situations, but she doesn’t yet feel comfortable with “unnecessary” physical contact or emotional intimacy. It’s not that she doesn’t like it - she sees it as a luxury she can’t afford.
Potential AU shenanigans where the Gumm-Gumms return to the Surface:
+Loses her composure over the smell of woodsmoke. It’s the detail that cements it for her that they’re finally back on the Surface. Also has a little trouble with the open sky and sometimes loses her balance when she feels like she might fall up. Closing her eyes helps. Needs a bit of an adjustment period at first.
+Due to Dez’s tactical and combat prowess as a Gumm-Gumm captain, her loyalty, and her ability to (reluctantly) disguise as human, Gunmar could (if he saw fit, and before she pulls anymore Danica-transporting shenanigans) assign her to bodyguard individuals beyond a troll’s reach during the day once they return to the Surface - especially ones who are likely to see combat and need backup. She doesn’t have the raw hitting power of a troll, but she has good pain tolerance and reflexes, generally knows what she’s doing, and coordinating with teams is where she really shines. Her usual role against tougher opponents involves knocking them off balance and provoking openings in their defenses for her team to exploit (which she will also exploit whenever she has a sufficiently clear shot). She’s like an aggressive evasion-tank. But in any 1v1, she’ll do her best to strike hard and fast and end it quickly. Slow, horrible, and painful is all well and good, but she’s got work to do.
+Remembers very little about how to blend in with humans, and acts like a Gumm-Gumm even in human form. She wants to do her job well, so she takes any instruction on the modern world very seriously, though she also tends to get frustrated when she’s confused (which is most of the time - being on the Surface again is rather overwhelming at first, and it’s not the Surface she remembers). She’s alert and effective at protecting those she’s assigned to, but also occasionally needs to be stopped from committing theft, assault, drinking perfume, climbing buildings, making cookfires and ‘ghost fences’ wherever she wants, rolling around in dust or mud baths, wearing ash and/or coal-based warpaint, or growling when she’s irritated, confused, excited, or worried. Can be taught to ‘store’ her armor and parlock spear on her trollish form so she won’t be caught unarmed if she needs to change quickly.
+Will also contend with anxiety over taking human form again after she’s worked all her life to deny that it even exists. Won’t like looking at mirrors (will only really do so if she’s checking in on Danica) or her own hands (both pinkies are missing, too), and will be all the more inclined to distract herself with work. Without sufficient distractions, she might turn to substance abuse to ease some of the stress if she thinks she can get away with it and still do her job.
+Likes to rest outside. Very light sleeper. Even cool nights are warm when compared to the Darklands, and she likes to watch the stars and feel the Earth turn. Stargazing is (despite the light pollution) one of the few things left that still feels like the world she remembers.
AU: Exchange Student AU, Roommate AU, Roommate-to-Lovers AU
Warnings: Nothing too bad, but mentions of homesickness
A/N: Hello again!! After having been nonexistent for almost a month, I'm back here with a little sweet fanfic, perfect for Christmas! Unfortunately only without any Christmas feeling! I wanted to write this story for a great friend a long time ago, but school always thwarted my plans. That's why nothing came from me for so long, but perfect for Christmas I managed to get a small present ready for my dear friend and for you guys!
Merry Christmas!🎅🦌
Summary: You finally managed to spend your two semesters abroad studying in Korea! However, after some unfortunate circumstances, you want nothing more than to finally be able to fly home again. But your roommate Namjoon has some ideas to make your year abroad still wonderful...
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I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!
That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.
Thank you.
A shaky sigh escapes your mouth before you quickly press your lips together and press your face into the soft fur of your fluffy teddy bear, which your best friend gave you as a goodbye gift. Fortunately, this stuffed animal catches your sobs and tears, so that just only quiet and muffled noises can be heard. Your body is shaking again and again by crying and you've pulled your knees up to your chest.
At some point you no longer have the strength to keep yourself upright and let yourself plop to the side onto your mattress. You involuntarily made yourself small, as if you were a helpless baby. And that's how you feel at that moment to be honest.
You had been looking forward to your year abroad in Korea so badly in the last few months, you were accepted directly at a university in the capital Seoul for the two semesters of your studies abroad in an other country and after a long, painful search full of despair you finally had found an affordable room in a shared apartment with a young Korean man.
And now? Now that one of your life dreams has finally come true, after a few holidays in this beautiful country, to be able to live in Korea for a longer time, you want nothing more than to finally fly home in eleven months. You're homesick. You feel nothing than unbearable homesickness.
Homesickness had never been a problem for you before, rather it was wanderlust that made you crazy when you were stuck in your hometown for years and couldn't get away. During your school days you also spent a year abroad to perfect your knowledge of your second foreign language. Of course, you also had days when you longed for home, your family and friends. However, it was only a few days ... not whole weeks. You have been in Seoul for a month and there have only been a few moments when you felt not lonely and alone.
In your year abroad, you also had a host family, a highschool with a teacher for exchange students and took care of all their questions and needs. And your host family gave you a room that was discreetly furnished just for you! It's precisely in these moments that you remember the pastel green wall color of your room at that time. You just had to personalize your room a little bit, fill it with your own elements of your personal life!
You open one of your tear-glued eyes and look at the bare white wall that is opposite your bed. It's one of the three other, also white walls. Surrounded by white, lifeless walls. They make yourself feel so inconspicuous and small.
Most likely, the circumstances of how you had to shape this new phase of your studies and ultimately of your whole life make you so unhappy. You had to move to an other city for your university after finishing highschool. From your hometown to the city where your university is located. But that wasn't so tragic back then, it was far too exciting to finally move out of your parents' house and be allowed to live of your own. And everything you couldn't take with you could stay in your old room in your parents' home. But not this time.
This time you had to sell or donate most of your furniture, books, decorations, and even your clothes, since you weren't allowed to take more than two suitcases to Korea. And your parents live too far away to bring all things to them and store them there. Most of your friends are still students too and either live in a shared apartment with other students or have their own apartment but this is mostly so small that they barely have enough space for their own stuff.
So for better or worse, you had to give away almost everything that you brought back from home two years ago or that you bought yourself over the past two years. Even a large part of your merch collection from your favorite K-Pop band, so that you can take the most important gifts from friends with you.
This process had been more painful than you could ever have imagined. In short, you had to try to stuff your previous life into two suitcases and a small backpack. You have nothing more than this.
And unlike in your year abroad, you're no longer just a sixteen year old teen who has to be taken by the hand and everything has to be done for them. You're a grown up adult now and you are old enough to find your way in a foreign country on your own. Usually you are very positive and confident, not often something quickly upset you. But so many sudden changes in such a short time leaves you unsettled and with a feeling of helplessness.
The last few days in your old apartment, which was almost completely empty at that time, together with all the farewell parties with your friends leaves you depressed and melancholic. It felt like you had given up yourself and given away your entire life. Left behind with no more than two suitcases and a backpack. You felt in a strange way... homeless.
When your current roommate Namjoon received you a month ago and showed you to your room, your heart sank. A bare, sterile room with four white walls was in front of you, with a small white desk and a metal, also white bed frame with a mattress. This room reminded you of a hospital, a prison cell, a patient room of a sanatorium from a horror film. So lifeless. So cold. You got goosebumps when Namjoon left you alone in this room, your room for the next twelve months.
You don't want to feel that way. You want to enjoy your time in Korea to the fullest, live your dream and not just let this unique opportunity pass away. But every time you go to your room and are greeted by four sterile white walls, you feel like a prisoner in his cell. Like a prisoner in your own dream.
Since you'll only be living here for one year, you will try to avoid unnecessary things as much as possible. You neither have an excessive amount of money for it, nor space in your suitcase to just take everything with you. You don't want to end up throwing away your entire life again, which is why you try to be as minimalistic as possible. So that means continuing to perch in your little private prison and staring holes in these damn white walls.
A little knock on your door wakes you up from your pessimistic trance. A light blond thatch slides between the door and his frame and the owner of the blonde hair smiles brightly at you.
"Hey Y/N! I was going to order dinner from the delivery restaurant, so I was going to ask if you want somethin-"
"Wait, are you okay? You look so sad and your eyes-"
Immediately you rub your eyes vigorously, although you don't know with what goal exactly you do this, because your tears have already dried and your eyes would only swell more and become even redder.
"No no, everything is okay! Don't worry," you stutter in Korean, which you speak fluently, but with a very noticeable accent. However, Namjoon doesn't really buy your half-hearted answer, still has a worried frown between his eyebrows.
Namjoon is the best roommate you could imagine as a helpless exchange student. In your first week in Seoul he guided you through the campus of the university, showing you when, how and where you register for important seminars and deadlines, where you can find the lecture halls for your lectures. He took an incredible amount of time for you and your questions, is very patient with you and encourages you to speak Korean again and again if you automatically switch to English if you are unsure.
But that doesn't necessarily make it better, since he's also fluent in English and has almost no accent. And then he studies law, has an IQ of 148 and also scored 900 in TOEIC ... while he was in middle school! By the time you got all of this information from his friends (according to Namjoon, they were just terribly curious about you and wanted to know what kind of roommate their best friend would have for the next year ...) you were a little intimidated by this genius, You felt even more stupid with every mistake that came across your lips.
But relatively quickly, to your own relief, you discovered that your Einstein-Roommate also has his weaknesses. You shouldn't leave him on the stove unobserved, but it's the best to lock the whole kitchen with childproof locks. Therefore, he has developed into a "hunter-gatherer" Perfectionist of take-out restaurants in order to survive his studies.
While his friends, who are more talented in cooking, had strongly advised against conjuring up a welcome menu for you, Joonie can also be very stubborn. On the day of your arrival, an unbearable beep from the smoke alarm penetrated the eardrum of your ears and let you run like crazy into the kitchen, where your roommate stood with an embarrassed smile on his lips and held a charred frying pan in his hands, but with a half burned but also half-raw piece of meat in it. So far you didn't even know that something like this is physically ... chemically ... biologically ... whatever you want to call this phenomen... was even possible.
Unfortunately, after only one month with Namjoon as a roommate, you're already very familiar with the smoke detector beep sound. To your horror, you had to find out that even his fried eggs are a complete fail. And he almost made the rice cooker explode. Therefore, you have decided to be the one who defaces the kitchen, but this still takes place within a reasonable framework.
His friend Jin showed you the functions of all the kitchen appliances, where Namjoon was leaning against the door frame all the time with a pouting face. Apparently frustrated not being able to show you all of this himself.
All of this only made him more lovable and it is becoming increasingly difficult for you to interpret nothing more than a normal, friendly relationship in his nice gestures.
Just like now that he has sat down on your bed next to you and is watching you carefully.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, or the reason is too private ... I just want you to know that I'm here if you need me. I know we haven't known each other for a long time, but when I was abroad for a year because of my studies I know how hard it is when family and friends are so far away when you need them the most ... "
Nothing stops you and you only feel the tears running down your cheeks and you start to sob. Namjoon's eyes widen in shock and before he realizes it, he has already put his arm around your shoulder and is stroking your back, trying to calm you down somehow. He grabs a tissue from your nightstand and hands it to you, apologizing to you again and again that he shouldn't say that and in no possible way he wanted to make you cry.
After you calmed down a little bit and your tears gradually dried up, you shook your head vehemently and stuttered: "N-No, no! It's not your fault, Namjoon! I-It's just that... that I feel a little bit like I don't have a home anymore. "
Now the blonde directs all his attention to your next words and you start to tell him everything about how it came the point that you developed this questionable feeling. He listens to you very carefully, tries to understand every feeling that you convey to him through your facial expressions.
"Ah okay ... now I understand a lot, Y/N. I was wondering why your room still looks so sterile and empty after a month without any personal elements. But I didn't want to talk to you about it, maybe it’s just your personal style. ...Well. Apparently not.", he mumbles and rubs his neck.
You sigh and look at your phone, which is next to you on the bed, and take it in your hand. "When I imagine that most of my whole life is in here... contact information about my friends, my family, the last pictures of my best friends and me that we took together... I think that's kind of...extreme? Just in this little thing." Namjoon nods his head slightly and looks thoughtfully at your phone and then at his watch.
"... it's too late for today."
"What did you say, Namjoon?"
"Tomorrow is Saturday, we would have the whole day for it! Y/N you don't have any specific appointment tomorrow, do you?"
"N-No, but why do you-"
"Perfect!"
"Namjoon, it's Saturday ... Saturdays are there to sleep in. Why did you call me in the kitchen for breakfast at seven o'clock?!", you grumble and try to warm your cold hands with your cup of coffee. But Namjoon doesn't seem to be listening to you properly, he's staring too excitedly at his iPad and scrolling through some sites and making questionable notes on his "top secret" spiral-bounded notepad until he asks you out of the blue for your favorite color.
"Purple... and red. But why all this?"
"We're going to the hardware store together and you choose a wall paint! Then we clear the few things from your room into my room or put them into the hallway and paint your room! Then it doesn't look so sterile anymore!", says Namjoon and smiles at you with great satisfaction of his idea, so that the dimples in his cheeks are only more noticeable.
You almost choke on your coffee and look at it as if he went completely crazy.
"Namjoon, I don't have money to paint my walls and anyway, the rental agreement says that the walls must remain white and no new nails can be hammered into the wall!"
"So if you take the contract very seriously, the walls just have to be white again when you move out. So what you do with them between moving-in and moving-out is up to you.", retort Namjoon and grins at you.
"Joon, but that was interpreted quite freely by you, you have to admit it! In addition, you are the one here who studies law and is responsible for ensuring that the rights and laws of the individual are granted!"
"Oh, don't be like that, Y/N. There are always legal grey areas and free judicial spaces!", he chuckles and winks at you, which makes your heart jump.
"Okay, okay. You won ...", you admit and sigh.
"Don't worry about the money, I'll pay for you. I don't want you to remember your year abroad in Korea as a nightmare!"
"But you can't do that-"
"No buts! Please accept it as a gift from me. Okay? Please!"
He throws his irresistible look at you, which makes your eyes roll and finally leaves you beaten.
You were so punctual at the hardware store that you even stood in front of closed doors for ten minutes before you could storm the painting department. It was just nine a.m. when you were already pushing the furniture out of the way and spent the next four hours trying to get most of the paint on two of your walls, and not just spreading it all over each other!
You haven't laughed that much in a long time and overall, you haven't been so happy and optimistic in ages. It's really a blessing to have a person like Namjoon around. He's always up for a joke and still be able to talk to him about every kind of deep and philosophical topic.
You can hardly believe it, but now, at this moment, Namjoon seems to make you feel "home", in that way you've missed so much.
You quickly shake your head, try to get rid of this thought. Fortunately, Namjoon immediately pulls you out of your wild dreams and initiates you into the next part of his secret plan.
"Yesterday you said that almost your whole life has been in this smartphone... what's about to try to bring this memory alive and decorate your room with it! I know a small shop with a cool photo booth where you can take your photos print out in polaroid format! ... and then we stretch a clothesline from here...", Namjoon runs his finger from one nail across the room to another nail "...to there and hanging all your pictures of your friends and family on it. What do you say? Do you like the idea?"
He still asks you if you like the idea? And whether you like the idea, you love it! Before you can control your emotions, you jump around his neck and trying with all your strength to suppress your tears.
"Thanks Namjoon. I don't know how to thank you for all of this here." When you notice that you are clinging to him like a coala, you quickly let go and stumble back, you're too embarrassed to look at him.
"Sorry ... I didn't want to... sometimes I do strange things when I'm happy ..." you murmur and quickly turn away from him, pretending that the empty paint buckets suddenly become terribly interesting.
That's why you can't see his smile full of affection.
It is already late evening when you start putting your things back in your room. However, you don't push your bed and other larger furniture directly onto the wall yet, so that the wall paint can dry completely overnight. With an exhausted sigh, you put down the last box in your room before you and Namjoon can look at your complete masterpiece.
He was right. What only two colored walls, a clothesline with photos and a world map (which you will only be able to put on the wall tomorrow ... because of the wall color) could change. Your room has become so much more cozy and private for you. It's finally your room and not just any prison cell anymore!
"Y/N ... I have something else for you. Just wait a moment!"
You look after him puzzled as he disappears into his room and comes back with a large, flat, rectangular box.
"Something else for your wall ... I hope you'll like it ...", he says quietly and looks nervously at the large box. You excitedly fumble with the opening before you can open it finally and pull out a huge, oversized poster. Of your favorite k-pop band. To be more precise, of your ultimate bias. A poster from a limited edition that has been sold out for a long time.
You don't know what to say. Your cheeks turn red with excitement, but also with a bit of embarrassment, you didn't want to give the impression of a crazy K-Pop Fan.
"...T-Thanks! B-But how did you know that I-"
"... when we were printing photos together today, I looked over your shoulder and saw different folders from the band in your gallery and there was a heart behind "XY", so I thought it could be your bias ... ", he says and grins at you like a little school boy being caught by doing something forbidden.
"You are pretty good at speculating the right things..." you murmur with a little smile, confirming his guess.
He nods, still smiling, but seems to think about something else.
"Do you think I have any chance next to them? So... that you maybe would go out with me...for a coffee or so? Even if I don't look like your bias in any way and in general, if you would date anyone here because you're only had one a year here in Korea and because of the risks of a long-distance relationship and- "
"I think ... I would try it, Namjoon. Risks are everywhere. And ... I would like to try it with you," you whisper and give him a shy smile.
I haven’t talked about Stefan, Whitebeard’s dog, who got a beard like his owner. Most of the time the dog is just lying at Whitebeard’s feet, ignoring Ace’s attempts to kill it’s owner. Sometimes it’s wandering around, causing the crew to keep a good eye on him. I heard Fossa saying that when Stefan was on his own, he mostly was up to no good. Even Thatch gets uneasy when Stefan wanders around. I’m curious to what the dog have done since the crew is so on the edge and Whitebeard is just laughing it off.
Another thing, about the dog, is that he is a cuddle monster. If he’s not lying at Whitebeard’s feet or causing trouble, he is cuddling with Marco, Thatch or - much to the surprise of the crew, which is odd - cuddling with me and Ace. While I’m not part of the crew, I don’t mind spending time lying with Stefan. He’s a good dog and he wouldn’t care about my blood. He doesn’t understand what it meant to us to have the blood of a demon.
I think that’s the core of my real problem. The fear of rejection because of that cursed blood. Should I start enjoy my stay here, because it could be just a short time, where I can be sure we are safe. Sure, I don’t completely trust them, but it’s more because of my fear of rejection and commitment. However, I do believe that Ace and I are safe here, until they know our heritage. So we can avoid the moment where we have to leave, by keeping it to ourselves.
Maybe I overthink all this, but maybe not. I don’t know. Deuce says I’m having mental issuses,which was all he got to talk to meabout my mental health. If he wants to live, then he better never talk about it again. Ace laughed hard at that, making everything a little weird. Now I know that Deuce only cares about us and wants us to be healthy and happy.
Not saying I’m not happy, but I do believe I could be happier. Just not sure I deserve any form for happiness...
Dang I keep going back to what I don’t want to think about. Deuce is right, I have mental issues and I’m pretty sure Ace too. Why is living so hard? Why did we have to live? Our mother didn’t have to die. It’s all father’s fault. If he just had stayed away from mother, she would still be alive and Ace and I never been born. It would have been better.
320 State Street (19)- April 14, 2017 (Final Chapter)
FF.net | AO3
Previous
There is a special guest included in this chapter.
—
“So who are we looking for?” Astrid asked, her backpack slung over her shoulder, suitcase in one hand and Stormfly’s cage in the other.
“The pastor of the church is picking us up. You can’t miss him.”
Julius Nyerere International Airport was smaller than O’Hare had been. She peered outside to see palm trees, green green grass, and the bluest sky she’d ever seen, which was quite the difference from the gray dismal early spring weather that they left in Michigan. She was ecstatic to be in shorts.
The flight had gone well enough. Astrid, who had only been out of state a handful of times, was nervous to fly. Luckily, Hiccup was beside her the whole time, his fingers intertwined with hers. Next to him on the other side, was Toothless. Astrid was still completely baffled by the logistics of it, but sure enough, the airline allowed a panther to fly coach. When she asked about it, Hiccup explained that Toothless was a certified service animal, and he in turn was a caregiver for Toothless. It was a double service situation. He and Valka had made the accommodations months ago and it was known in advance that yes, there was a big cat on this flight. No one seemed to mind, since he just sat there, doing his thing. Which was really impressive, for a 20 hour flight. Astrid was more impressed that he could go that long. Eventually, he stretched out across the seats and fell asleep on their laps.
Valka had her own seat mate, Stormfly, in the way of a cage. The bird occasionally sang and made noise, but nothing obnoxious. Valka had a fun time talking to her as well.
After the first hour in the air, Astrid felt herself calm down enough and she began to relax. Still, she held Hiccup’s hand, occasionally lifting it to kiss his knuckles.
“There he is!” Called Valka, pointing to an extremely tall man. He held a sign with ‘Haddock’ written on it. The family rushed over to him, only to be caught up in a hug.
“Mwaba!” Hiccup laughed. “How are you?”
“If it isn’t my little Kwikwi! Look at how big you’ve grown! And who is this pretty girl?”
Astrid held her hand out. “Jambo, I’m Astrid, Hiccup’s girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend, huh?” He playfully elbowed his friend in the gut, and then took Astrid’s hand. “My name is Pastor Mwaba Musonda, but Mwaba is fine. Welcome to the family!” And he yanked her into a hug.
Oh, she was going to like it here.
Mwaba gathered everyone into the church van, where Toothless had plenty of room to stretch out and relax. Not so the case with Hiccup and Astrid, however.
Traffic rules were different here. Mostly a free for all. Not to mention most of the roads weren’t paved. Astrid bounced in her seat, fear creeping in every time they took a corner too fast. Stormfly, likewise, squawked when her cage was rattled.
“You okay back there Stormfly?”
“Earthquake!” she cried.
While they were still in the city, Mwaba stopped at a grocer, and they stocked up on food. Astrid was surprised to see that most of the foods she had come to love were no where to be found.
Hiccup had three, 10 gallon jugs of water in a cart. “Do you remember the rules about tap water?”
“It’s okay to shower with, but don’t drink it.”
“Very good,” he confirmed. “But even so, you may feel sick until you get used to being here. Whether it’s altitude sickness or something in the food…Just let me know if you feel crummy at any point and we’ll come home and take a nap. Okay?”
She smiled at him, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. But you need to let me know if you feel sick too, okay? You’re not as immune as you think.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay okay.”
Back in the van, Hiccup tapped her shoulder, and held out a dramamine. “You’re going to want this,” he assured.
“Kanganya is about an hour from here, Astrid.” Mwaba explained. “I’ll take the scenic route!”
“Yay…” she said, nausea starting to take root in her stomach.
Despite the conditions, she was in awe of the landscape around her. Everything was much different than it had been in the lakeside town in Michigan. Soon, they were in the mountains, climbing up narrow, dizzying roads.
“How far are we from Kilimanjaro?”
“Those are still a few hours north. You and Kwikwi should go sometime!”
“Kwikwi?” she asked her seat mate.
“It’s Swahili for ‘Hiccup’. They used to call me Kuku, which is the word for chicken…because my name is Henry. Hen…get it?”
“That’s…really complicated.”
“Hey, complicated is my second middle name.” Hiccup said proudly.
“…what’s your first middle name?”
“Unnecessarily.”
She snorted.
They continued through the mountains, going crazy speeds and weaving around other cars and buses. The landscape seemed to stretch on forever, over mountains and valleys, just rich green framed with terra-cotta soil and dotted with brightly colored stucco buildings. Finally, they pulled off the road and into a cluster of buildings. Some were big, made of cement, bricks, and clay and others were just thatched grassed huts. There were about 20 to 30 homes scattered about the hub.
“This is it! Welcome to Kanganya!” Mwaba gestured out the window, proud of his village.
“There’s the church, up there.” Hiccup pointed to a building that sat on a cliff, with a sign outside that said, ‘Bird Mountain Church’.
“The hospital that you’ll be at is about a mile down the road,” explained Valka. “But if you don’t want to walk it, we have a jeep.”
“I can walk it, no problem.” Astrid assured. “What about you Hiccup?”
“I’ll be fine…most of the time,” He shrugged.
As they passed through the village, she spotted a number of big buildings, labelled in English and Swahili.
Then, finally, they turned to the road that went to the church, and veered off slightly into the woods. There, the house Astrid would call home waited. It was decently sized, not as big as Hiccup’s house had been back in the US, but still bigger than she was expecting.
“A group of missionaries lived here before us,” Hiccup stated as they pulled into the driveway. “They had nine kids. When they retired back to the US, my mom and dad bought the house from them and picked up where they left off.”
“It’s convenient for our purposes.” Valka stated. “Sometimes tragedy befalls the village and people need a place to stay. They never like to intrude, but just having a place to stay for a few weeks makes a difference.”
Astrid nodded in understanding.
Mwaba helped carry all the bags into the house, down a long entry way. They passed two closed bedrooms before they got to the living room. Inside, the air was hot and muggy.
“Let me just the A/C running, and we’ll open the windows.” Valka said, going over to the window unit. “We had everything shut up while we were gone to avoid any bugs getting in.”
“Oh right, aren’t mosquitos a big deal here?”
Hiccup opened a window on the other side of the room. “In the country, yes. That’s why you had to get those vaccinations. But our village is pretty safe, since we’re in the mountains.” He popped open a second window. “But I wouldn’t remove the screen from your window.”
“Got it.”
There was a loud ‘whump’ from the roof, and only Astrid jumped. “What was that?”
“Toothless, making himself at home.” Hiccup said without hesitation.
“Astrid,” Valka beckoned in the entryway. “This will be your room. It’s next to Hiccup’s, but the floor squeaks, so you two shouldn’t try any funny business.”
Astrid blushed hotly, while Hiccup whined a pained ‘mooooommmmmm!’
Valka laughed and dragged her suitcase to the stairs. “Mwaba and I are going to go meet with the deacons at the church. You two can unpack or rest…whatever you want. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
Mwaba added, “I heard a rumor that some of the ladies are making a meal tonight.”
“Oh! I don’t have to cook!” The woman laughed. “They certainly know how to make a woman feel at home.” She slipped her shoes back on. “See you kids later.”
“Bye mom.” Hiccup called over his shoulder.
The house furnishings were modest. A plush couch sat against the wall, with two soft chairs and a round coffee table. On the wall opposite of the entry, there were a pair of doors that seemed to lead to a balcony. Next to that, a dining table with several seats sat across from the open kitchen. The kitchen had a small oven and a microwave, much akin to Astrid’s dorm room. It was a nice size, perfect for three people and a leopard to live comfortably.
Her room was small, containing a bunk bed, a small table, and a closet. She dropped her suitcase on the floor and started putting away her clothes. “I am exhausted from that flight. Forget dinner, I’m ready to crash!”
Her boyfriend didn’t respond.
“Hiccup?” She poked her head out into the main room. The balcony doors were open, giving view to the wide, mountain side view. The sun would be setting soon, and it cast the pale yellow room into warm pink light. The landscape just seemed to go on for forever.
She found him lounging on a hammock out on the porch, gazing at the view.
“It’s a lot like back home. But…bigger. In a way.” She assessed.
“The lake view shows nothing. When the mist rolls in, it looks like the map just ends, and that’s it. But this…the hills and valleys, the trees and houses…it just seems to go on infinitely.”
“Hmmm, I guess I never thought about how big the world really is.”
“Yeah.”
Silence stretched between them, peacefully carrying the sacred moment.
It was broken when a goat pleaded nearby, in a human-like scream.
The duo devolved into laughter.
Hiccup sat up carefully. “Hey, come and lay with me.”
“Isn’t that super dangerous? Like, on a hammock.”
“I’m a professional hammock balancer. Trust me.”
“Okay…” She carefully edged her way onto the hammock, but it promptly flipped and dumped them out on the floor.
“Ow…”
“Professional, huh?” Astrid asked, from where her knee was jammed into his stomach.
“Well, we just need to get in it at the same time.”
They both rolled over and clambered up to their feet. Hiccup took one edge and pulled, then rested his knee on it. Astrid did the same. “Kay, on the count of three, we both sit down.”
“Got it.”
“1…2…3!”
And like poetry, they both fell into the net, being cradled on each side.
“Nice,” Astrid appraised, snuggling closer to him, and draping a leg over his. “This is nice.”
He wrapped an arm around her, cuddling her to his side. “You said it.”
The moment they had lost was back, as they both rested peacefully in each other’s presence. Birds chirped as the cool mountain breeze whistled through the trees. The air was fresh.
“Astrid?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you love me?”
Should could have just said ‘yes’, as she always did when he asked that question, but instead, she pondered it for a moment. “You know…we haven’t been together very long. Just a few months.”
“Uh…yeah?”
“In fact, it was a year ago today, that we met.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You remember that?”
“Yeah, I saw it in my facebook memories this morning when we were at the airport.”
He chuckled.
“But in that time…I’ve come to see you as something else, not just my boyfriend. I guess I started taking you for granted. It didn’t really occur to me that I could lose you.”
Hiccup pulled away, and looked down at her, the hammock threatening to tip again. “…you aren’t going to lose me…not if I can help it.”
She smiled and tugged him to lay down again. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s just…after a certain point, I stopped seeing you as a person, and started seeing you as an extension of myself that I never knew I was missing.”
Hiccup reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing an invisible line over her skin.
She continued, “In only six months, we’ve been through…some really awful stuff.”
Once the situation with Scott had been resolved, both had begged the other to let it be and never speak of it again. Still, it was a part of their tainted pasts and it would forever be with them, if not in word, then in meaning.
“But if I had to do any of that…without you? I…I can’t even imagine it. You made life worth living. Without you…things would have been so much different.”
He swallowed. “I feel the same.” He leaned in a placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “I didn’t have to go through what you did. I didn’t lose my dad, and I wasn’t in an abusive relationship. But I had my own struggles, my own doubts. But every time you smiled and laughed with me…they didn’t matter. I felt like I belonged beside you, laughing everyday. Because that’s all I ever want, is to make you happy.”
“That’s all I could ever ask for, and to make you happy in return.”
“Then…” He leaned closer, snaking his other arm around her. “Will you marry me?”
She starred at him, wide-eyed and confused.
“I…I don’t have a ring, or anything, but…gosh I didn’t really think this proposal through. I just…needed to say it.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
She nodded, briefly kissing his lips. “I know it won’t happen right away, but I can’t imagine being with anyone but you. So yes, I will marry you.”
In his ecstasy, he crushed her to him, the hammock rocking like a ship in a storm. “Oh Astrid!”
She giggled, struggling to return the embrace, since he had pinned her arms to her sides.
He caught her lips in a deep and tender embrace.
Mark 10:9 “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate."
