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serendipitous-magic · 4 years ago

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What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

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1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

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2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

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3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

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4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

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5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

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6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

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7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

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8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

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9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

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10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

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11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery.

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12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

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13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

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14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

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15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

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16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story.

It also informs character behavior and personality.

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

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I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

#asks #anon #writing advice #writing tips #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction #character creation #plot development #character development #my advice #original writing

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wishesunderthestars · 5 years ago

Text

Eunoia // Ch. 12

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 18.1k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, mentions of putting down hybrids, discussion of insomnia caused by a traumatic event, panic attacks, derogetory language

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Phew, that was long one. Please comment and reblog it really motivates me to keep writing. And I always love receiving asks so don’t be shy ;)

"I can't believe this is happening! Why can't I receive good news for once?" After the initial shock, you were fuming. "Work of months has been destroyed and for what? Because someone decided not to take the proper safety measures to save some money. People could have been hurt in there! Seriously hurt. And it would have been on our heads!"

Namjoon was holding your phone, the email you had received opened on the screen. "You didn't know they hadn't taken the necessary precautions. It wouldn't have been on your head."

"Can you imagine what would have happened if we had been filming? If the actors and the crew were inside and the building collapsed on us?" The chair scraped against the floor as you raised to your feet. You couldn't stay sitting anymore. "I don't even want to think about that. How many people... If we would even get out of there alive. And it isn't only us. What if the earthquake hadn't hit at night? And the workers were still inside? What then? This is wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to count."

Five point six Richter. That was the magnitude of the earthquake that had hit Virginia. It had been felt in Washington. They said it had affected a radius of two hundred kilometers around the center of the earthquake. No one had expected it and no one had been prepared. In the email there was a detailed description of how the earthquake had caused the sets for The Raven Cycle to collapse in on themselves, because the respective protection measures hadn't been taken. The earthquake had hit at night, waking up everyone in the area and causing panic as people flooded the streets. They had discovered the ruined sets in the morning.

Protection measures were of utmost important in every environment and you were baffled that a film studio with such prestige would disregard them so easily. You had half a mind to storm into the building you had just returned from and make a scene in front of everyone. They had put everyone in danger, not only the actors and the crew and all the people working there but also the passersby who could have had metal rods falling on their heads.

How could they allow this? How could they be so careless? It wasn't a building made for only a couple of days of use with light materials. Filming would take place there for the better part of the summer. In a few months you would have been there. You could have been there.

"And now you have to leave?" Namjoon asked, jaw tense. "Can't you wait a few days and go later?" You knew what he was thinking. You didn't want to leave either. It was the worst time possible for you to leave. The two hybrids in the guestroom, the injuries you had to tend to, Jimin and Jungkook, Jimin's past. But it wasn't your decision to make.

"I can't, they have already planned the whole trip. It isn't like I have a choice. The message is clear, I will be flying to Virginia in two days. As the director and showrunner, I have to be there. They have called everyone important in the project and I am one of the lucky ones. And it isn't like I can refuse unless I have a very important reason. And I can't exactly tell them I am nursing to health a stray hybrid until he and his friend can live on their own again, instead of reporting them to the hybrid services."

Namjoon's face scrunched up at the mention of the services. They were anything but kind to hybrids. They thought they could do anything to them if they were strays before they had to give them to a center. The times he and his small pack had to run away from them weren't few. It disgusted you, the way some people behaved.

You landed back on your chair with a huff, tired of pacing. Namjoon must have got a headache from the way his eyes were following you. "This is just what I didn't need. I thought we wouldn't have to go to Virginia until summer!"

You felt like banging your head on the wall but you settled for laying you head on the desk. It collided with a dull thud.

It wasn't only the destroyed set and what that meant for the show. Slowing down of the production, a larger budget needed (oh, the irony) and the bad press you would get if it got out.

People in the area must have suffered. Flashes of collapsed buildings, shattered windows and cracks in the streets ran through your mind. No, it couldn't be that bad. You prayed it wasn't that bad.

Namjoon frowned. "What are you supposed to do there? You aren't going to help rebuild the sets. What do they need you for?" You could see the worry in his eyes. His instincts calling him to protect you, to not let you leave. You appreciated the fact he was fighting it.

With your cheek squished against the desk you said, "No, I'm not going to rebuild the sets, but they need me there nonetheless. There is a legal part of this whole thing I have to be there for. And me being there might help the ones doing the rebuilding."

Namjoon sighed, giving up on trying to keep you here. "Will John come with you?"

"Most likely," you said, raising your head from the desk and sitting back on the chair. Your back hurt from the awkward angle you had bent your body in. "I will ask him but I'm pretty sure he will say yes. He always comes with me when I'm working out of California. He has toured half of the world being my bodyguard. And this time.... This time I don't think he would let me go without him."

"It seems you do tend to travel a lot," Namjoon noted. There wasn't any judgment or disdain in his voice, he was simply stating a fact. If anything he looked at the cream and gold world globe on your desk with longing. He had told you he had never left California, created and bred in Los Angeles. You didn't like how he said "created" but you couldn't correct him. "It must be nice seeing all those places."

The gold of the globe caught the light, distorted figures moving on the polished surface. "It's nice when it's properly planned and when I actually want to go. And there aren't any natural disasters involved. I can't say that's true this time. It's the furthest it could be from the truth." You groaned. "What am I going to do now? I can't leave like this. There are so many things going on."

Namjoon was too close to what he looked like talking to you about the ending of the Book Thief. "How long will you be gone?"

"A week?" The email didn't specify. A week was how long most work trips that didn't include filming lasted, but this wasn't a normal work trip. This had never happened to you or to anyone you knew before. You had heard of disasters but nothing like this.

Your fingers had subconsciously started drumming a tune on the desk. A tune that had comforted you once. A tune he used to hum long before he turned it into a song. You stilled your hand.

An earthquake. Five point six Richter. Shaking buildings, rattling shelves, trembling chandeliers, cupboards opening and dishes and glasses falling to the floor. The kind of thing you see on the TV. The kind of thing you don't ever expect to witness. No one expects a disaster like that to strike out of the blue, but that's the way it is. There is no one to warn you, no one who can.

You didn't go to dinner. You told Namjoon not to wait for you, you would eat later. Climbing down the stairs, you stopped in front of the door and knocked. The reply was the same and Yoongi opened the door like every time.

Every room had a medical kit in the bathroom, the one in this had to be restocked twice in the past few days.

Hoseok gave you a small smile and extended his broken arm. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you started telling him of the time you had spent in the Caribbean Sea. You had stayed there for a few months and had spent most of that time in Jamaica and Puerto Rico. The sandy beaches, the endless turquoise sea and the colorful houses didn't fail to bring a smile to your face. The people had been welcoming and kind, eager to help with any problems production faced. They invited you to nights full of dancing and music and included you in everything like you belonged there.

The movie you had filmed wasn't one of your biggest hits. It wasn't nominated for an Oscar and although it did earn much recognition and was played at multiple international film festivals, it wasn't as successful as your other films. But it was the most fun you had had filming. The actors were incredible both at their job and out of it. You had spent some of the best nights of your life there.

As you fastened the splint in place around Hoseok's arm, you told him of the night they had lit large bonfires along the beach and all the people in the area had gathered around to have a few drinks and dance. Your mind, however, wasn't on the story. A fractured arm and a rib wasn't something you should be treating at home. It didn't matter how many first aid classes you had attended, a lot of things could go wrong. But it was either this or nothing. When you had suggested taking Hoseok to the hospital, Yoongi had almost bitten your head off.

Hoseok was laying back against the pillows with his eyes clothes when you were done. He was doing better. Having regular meals and being able to wash made the improvement more evident. He didn't complain when you were treating him but you could see his eyes clenching shut when you were applying salve to the most tender spots. The stories helped. They distracted him and you could work easier. He rarely spoke but lately he had been brave enough to voice any questions he had and you had readily answered him. Progress. Progress you hoped wouldn't halt now.

"This is it for today," you said, rubbing your hands together and getting up. "In a few days you won't have any trouble moving around on your own. Not anything too strenuous, though, no running or jumping around."

"Thank you." Hoseok spoke softly, like being any louder would break an unspoken rule. Like it would get him punished.

Yoongi was sitting on the chaise lounge by the glass wall, facing away from you. The fire pits were lit all the way along the balconies, flames licking up the darkness of the night. He didn't look at you while you were there, only stealing glances when he thought you weren't looking. When his eyes met yours he would scowl and look away.

"There is something I wanted to tell you," you started. You didn't know how else to say it so you jumped in head first. "I was called to Virginia for work. I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow." Yoongi's back stiffened, his tail stilling in the air. Hoseok's eyes turned impossibly wide. "I don't know yet how long I will stay there but it will be some time before I can come back. I thought you should know because I won't be able to treat you."

Yoongi huffed. "Who will be our caretaker then?"

You paused by the door. "Do you think you need one?"

"Is this a joke?" Yoongi's fists clenched. There was no blood on them anymore.

It wasn’t a secret that hybrids were treated like pets, that included having someone babysit them when the owner was gone. You had been through it before when you had left for New York shortly after you had adopted Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. Everyone had expected you to ask someone to take care of them. You hadn’t. They could take care of themselves and each other just fine.

It was the same now.

“If you think you need a caretaker I can hire one for you, but I doubt you do,” you said. “I think you can survive in the Castle without me for a few days. If I’m gone for longer than a week, Helen my housekeeper will come over to do some cleaning. She usually comes over a few times a week. And the gardener comes by quite often. ”

Yoongi looked stunned but schooled his features quickly. Hoseok’s ears were pinned against his head. You closed the door behind you.

Why did your work’s timing had to always be that bad?

An earthquake. A fucking earthquake.

In the kitchen, the table was served. The mouthwatering smell of the food drifted in the air. Jimin, Namjoon and Jin were sitting around the table, Jungkook absent once again. No one had touched their plates.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” you said taking your seat. Your plate was filled with a generous slice of meat pie and fresh salad. Your stomach grumbled. You hadn’t noticed you were that hungry.

“We wanted to wait for you.” Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, it hadn’t since the day he had come running to you, begging you to take him with you to work. Jungkook spent most of his time at the atelier and he slept in Jin’s room at night. Every time he didn’t show up for meals, the light in Jimin’s eyes dimmed further.

You picked up your fork and knife and cut into the pie. The taste was heavenly, not that you had expected anything else from Jin. You told him so and delighted in the way he got flushed and tried to cover it by a terrible joke he must have come up with on the spot. While you ate, you didn’t speak much, thinking about the best way to bring up the news crawling up your throat. Namjoon squeezed your hand under the table.

When your plates were empty and Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder, you decided it was time. You put your fork aside. You started by the email, the email that had looked so inconspicuous at first because you received emails like that all the time. An email labeled “important” was often not as important as the people sending it thought it was. You couldn’t have guessed what it contained inside. You hadn’t been prepared.

Your leg was moving up and down on the metal foothold of the stool, mimicking your racing heartbeat. An earthquake had struck Virginia at night. You repeated the dry words of the email, of someone who hadn’t felt the terror of the earth shaking underneath their feet. Five point six Richter, strong enough to knock down the sets they had been building for months. You were required to be there in two days.

Jimin’s bottom lip was trembling. “How long will you stay?”

You shook your head. It was the same question you were asking and had no answers for. Even if you called someone in the company they wouldn’t have anything but speculations for you. “I hope no more than a week.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Jin asked. “What if there are aftershocks, or if it was a warning for a larger one coming?”

Jin’s question brought an dreadful shine to Jimin’s eyes. You had thought of that as well but your mind was troubled already as it was. Questions of your safety would take this too far. For once, you didn’t trust the company you were working with to keep you safe. You would have to do research before you left and take all the necessary precautions. You wouldn’t risk it like they had.

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his glass but didn’t bring it to his lips. “John will be with her. They will be alright.” It didn’t calm down Jimin who hugged himself tightly, dropping his head to his chest.

You couldn’t watch him suffering anymore. Getting up, you walked to him and hugged his from behind, prying his hands away so they were over yours instead. “I promise I’ll call you every day and we will text. It’s like when I was in New York and you texted me every day about what you got up to and what you were thinking. Your texts made me forget all about work and how tired I was.” Jimin sniffled but his cheeks remained dry. “It’s only a few days. They’ll be over soon. You won’t be alone here.”

Jin ruffled Jimin’s hair and the cat hybrid wrapped one arm around the oldest, pulling him into the hug. You placed a kiss on both their head, making Jin flush again. He wasn’t used to physical attention the way Jimin was but he craved it too and you were trying to make sure he felt as loved as he was.

Namjoon held Jimin while you and Jin cleaned the table. He grabbed Jimin’s thighs lifting him up and carried him to the living room. The younger laughed all the way there, telling him to put him down. His tight hold around Namjoon’s neck told him a very different thing.

But you weren’t done yet. You had one more person to tell.

The atelier’s door was half open. You knocked once on the wood before opening it all the way. The room could be described as an organized mess. Two canvases were set up in the middle of the room and three half-finished ones stood against the cabinets. The floor was covered in newspapers splattered with all the colors of the rainbow and paint tubes were lined on the tables in no particular order.

“I finished dinner, you can take it,” he said, gesturing to the tray on one of the tables with the hand not holding a brush.

“That isn’t why I’m here.” One of his ears perked up as you walked closer. The canvas he was working on now was a blend of shades of purple, orange and yellow with no definitive details. “What are you painting.”

He shrugged. “Don’t know yet.” Moving forward with no destination. You knew how that felt.

Jungkook hadn’t distanced himself just from Jimin but from everyone. He didn’t run to you to hug you and scent you when you came back like he used to do. He didn’t come up to the living room to watch TV and talk until you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open. He didn’t show you his progress on the paintings. He didn’t annoy Jin while he cooked (the oldest liked it even if complained). He didn’t come to meals. Meals were family time.

Being in the atelier now was different to any other time. It was the stifling feeling of an empty page, which used to be ecstasy. It was wrong, something missing.

“I have to leave for Virginia the day after tomorrow,” you said, ripping the band-aid off. The times you had said it today were too many. Surprised doe eyes turned to you. You explained the story once again and waited.

Jungkook seemed to be bracing himself for something. “Can you take me with you?”

“Take you with me?” you repeated, dumbfounded.

He nodded. The brush he had been holding had fallen to the floor at some point painting the newspapers in a shock of deep purple. Neither of you had noticed. “I won’t bother you. I’ll listen to everything you say. You can leave me at the hotel. I won’t cause any trouble, no one will know I’m there.” He lowered his head. “I need to be away from here.”

“Jungkook…” Your hand touched his cheek and you felt the way he clenched his jaw under the touch. “If this is-”

“Don’t,” he begged, pulling away. A pained desperation coloring his voice. “You don’t know what I did. If you did-” He took a sharp breath. “Can I come with you? Please.”

Stifling. You hadn’t considered taking any of the hybrids with you now. You had planned on inviting them along when you would go there for filming, a much more fun part of your job. This would be a busy trip and most likely far from enjoyable. It could be dangerous. But Jungkook’s eyes were begging you. He was fading away locked up in the atelier avoiding everyone.

“Okay. If you really want to, you can come with me. I’ll help you pack the essentials,” you said. Jungkook visibly relaxed. Maybe you should have pressed more. Insisted on him speaking with Jimin before you left or after you came back. But you were exhausted and a headache was brewing behind your temples.

Jungkook glanced at a canvas covered with a white sheet at a corner. You’d let it go for now.

When Jimin sneaked into your room late into the night, you didn’t say anything pulling up the covers in a silent invitation. Jimin crawled underneath and hid in your arms. Against every expectation you fell asleep. Orange bottle untouched in the bathroom cabinet.

The days leading up to your departure were every kind of hectic. Panic had taken over the studios and the atmosphere was tense in every meeting. No one wanted to admit the colossal mistake that could have cost the lives of so many people. The press was another matter entirely. The project could get a bad reputation before it was aired. It was emotionally exhausting, your brain working in overdrive, coming up with solutions to problems that may or may not arise. You had to be prepared for the worst.

At home it wasn’t much better. You had started packing for the weird end-of-spring weather in Virginia. The Raven Cycle books and a little research had provided you with enough information about what to expect. Dry, warm and with a possibility of thunderstorms. It could also get cold at night so you made sure to pack a few sweatshirts.

You helped Jungkook pack his things in a similar way. He had a habit of wearing long sleeves even when it was hot so you packed a few more sweatshirts and hoodies for him. He continued not talking much but he looked calmer now that you were leaving. All you wanted to do was hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. But you didn’t think that would be welcome.

Jimin had timidly offered to take care of Hoseok’s injuries while you were gone. You hesitated at first. While they had been here Jimin and Yoongi hadn’t interacted much. You had expected they would talk, figure out the strange tension between them, but they had kept to themselves. You gave in in the end. The worst had come and passed and you trusted Jimin to provide the basic care Hoseok needed.

He came with you to their room before dinner and you explained to him what you were doing. Hoseok was a little more withdrawn than usual but he didn’t protest, smiling at Jimin.

You had a long talk with Namjoon in your office the night before the day you were scheduled to leave. There were a lot of things to talk about and you tried to get everything out. All your worries and all the things you thought he should know. When you were spent and his reassurances were buried deep in your chest, he brought you close to him, rubbing his face in your neck. He places light kissed on your skin, his lips trailing up until they were touching yours.

The house was silent. You opened your eyes blearily, staring at your phone. The ringing of the alarm had stopped, leaving large numbers reading the time on the screen. The blinds were closed hiding the morning from you.

There was a weight on your chest. You looked down to find tired eyes staring up at you. Jimin made a small sound in the back of his throat and nuzzled against you. His blond hair was soft against your fingers as you combed through it. A loud purr escaped him as you scratched the base of his cat ears. He held on to you tighter but the alarm was clear, you needed to get up and get ready. You had a flight to catch.

“No, don’t go,” Jimin whined.

You massaged his head down to his neck. “I have to get up. I’ll miss the plane if I’m late.”

In the shadows of the room you could see the pout on his full lips. “What if you miss it?”

“If I miss it, I’ll get in trouble. And I’d rather not get in trouble.” Jimin snuggled closer to you and you could smell the vanilla shampoo he loved. Mia had said in the early days that she had smelt vanilla and muffins on you and you had guessed that was Jimin’s scent. The shampoo must serve to accentuate his natural scent.

His cat ears lowered as his tail wrapped around your bare leg. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling of the soft fur against your skin. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I know, that’s why I have to go.” You untangled yourself from the hybrid and pressed the button for the blinds to retreat. The morning light spilled into the room. It caught on Jimin’s curls painting them golden. You had an urge to capture the moment with your camera, the way he looked so soft, hair mussed and eyes still dreaming. Carving the image in your memory, you walked to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day.

Getting dressed for a flight was different than getting dressed for any other work day. You liked to wear something comfortable that wouldn’t look too bad on camera. You weren’t the kind of celebrity to get mobbed every time you went out but sometimes paparazzi could get wind of where you were going and show up at the airport. When you were traveling for premieres or events, fans and paparazzi would fill the place.

The previous night you had set aside a pair of loose black pants and a red top. You would also take your leather jacket with you because it could get chilly on the plane.

Jimin, wearing his stripped white and blue pajamas with the little pink hearts, clung to you like a koala all the way to breakfast. He only let go of you when you placed your large black bag on the floor and took a seat at the kitchen island. Jin was finishing up with cooking, taking the pots off the stove. Breakfast was almost ready.

John would be coming later to drive you to the airport. The black SUV had turned into a sign you would be traveling. Because of the sheer volume of the luggage you always ended up with, a large car was needed to drive you to and from the airport. This time you had packed two suitcases and your handbag. You had been tempted to fill a sac-voyage as well but you quickly abandoned the thought.

Namjoon arrived, looking wide awake. The opposite of Jimin and his drooping eyes. Only one was missing. And you weren’t compromising today.

“Jungkook?” you asked. The others exchanged a glance. It told you enough. “I’m going to go get him. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Their gazes followed you as you left. They probably didn’t believe you could get him to come up. And any other day that could have been the case.

The door of the atelier was closed but you were sure Jungkook was inside. The amount of time he had been spending in there was unhealthy but you were the last person who could judge him, having spent the majority of your so called break in your office. You knocked three times before opening the door.

Jungkook was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, lost in a place that used to scream comfort. Did it still? You couldn’t feel it anymore. The canvases were all in their places and the paints and brushes had been tidied up. Sitting on the paint splattered newspapers in his completely black clothes, Jungkook looked lost.

“We’re having breakfast upstairs,” you said.

Jungkook’s eyes cleared, just enough for most of the fog to disappear. One bunny ear drooped down and he swiped it away from his face. “Can’t Jin bring it to me?”

You shook your head. “Jin isn’t bringing anything to you. You will be coming to breakfast and eat with us like you used to.”

He lowered his head, both ears falling in his face. “I can’t.”

“You very much can and you will.” You tried to be gentle but you were firm on this. “You will come up and we will all eat breakfast together. We are leaving in a few hours for the other side of the United States and I have no idea when we will be back. You aren’t doing anything here and everyone wants to see you and spend some time together.”

“Not everyone.” It was so low he probably hadn’t meant for you to hear.

“Everyone,” you said, kneeling by his side. “Everyone wants to see you.” You brushed his bangs off his face, petting his ears in the process. He didn’t relax the way he usually did, melting in your hands, but he did lean into the touch. “One breakfast. That’s all I’m asking for. You said you’d listen to me if I took you with me to Virginia.”

He couldn’t disagree with that and when you offered him your hand he took it.

Jungkook and Jimin had had a special bond. That first night you had seen it in the way Jimin cried begging you to help Jungkook, to heal him. You had seen it in the way Jungkook, beat up and having trouble breathing, was asking Jimin if he was injured, if he needed to be treated first and Jimin had cried every time Jungkook flinched but smiled and squeezed his hand to ease the pain. Nothing had changed the longer you spent with them, the way they loved and cared for each other only becoming more apparent.

Jungkook had gone to Namjoon crying, saying he had hurt Jimin but you couldn’t imagine him doing anything but loving him. Misunderstandings preyed on everyone and they were hungry for those who loved each other. They would get through it, you assured yourself. They were strong and they cared too much to continue hurting each other like this. You cared too much too, you wouldn’t let this get out of hand.

They needed a break, that’s what it was. Jungkook had been right, the trip would help put some distance between them to think clearer. You would make sure when you returned they would be ready to face whatever had happened between them.

Jimin lit up at seeing Jungkook but the light dimmed when the younger didn’t even glance his way. You sighed into your orange juice.

After breakfast Jungkook carried up his suitcase while you went to another room. Three knocks and a question of who it was. It had become routine. Hoseok smiled at you, he had been doing that more and more.

You sat down at the side of the bed, Yoongi watching you from the chaise lounge, his ears standing alert. “I’m just here to check on you one last time before I go. Jimin will take over after this.”

Hoseok was sitting with his back against the headboard. He hadn’t been able to do that without hurting the first days. “When will you be leaving?”

Touching his arm to inspect it, you said, “John will be here in about thirty minutes but the flight isn’t for another two hours. We have to be early at the airport because the process to get on the plane takes a long time. Do you want to hear about the first time I got on a plane? That’s a funny story.”

Hoseok nodded enthusiastically so you started recounting the time you were sixteen and you had to take a plane to get to the film festival that was held in France. The short film you had directed would be played there. The only problem was that you had never been on a plane before and the prospect of flying wasn’t appealing to you in the least. It just happened that the flight was far from calm.

The check up was finished halfway through the story but Hoseok touched your arm, wordlessly asking you to finish it. At your arrival in France Hoseok’s smile dissolved.

“I have to get going, John will be here soon,” you said getting up. Hoseok had met John only after you had told him of the time both of you had gotten lost in London. John had been insisting he knew what he was doing leading you deeper into the maze of streets. Because of that a few more stories the bodyguard had guest-starred in, the fox hybrid hadn’t looked as terrified as some people did at the side of the giant of a bodyguard.

“Thank you for,” he gestured to himself “this. And the stories. Thank you for the stories.”

You stopped by the door. “It was my pleasure.”

John was at the Castle right on time, parking the SUV close to the front door. He helped you carry everything to the car, which meant he carried the three suitcases while Jungkook insisted he could help. The bunny hybrid did help but only because John took pity on him and let him help with putting the suitcases in the trunk.

You lowered your sunglasses. No wind and no cloud in sight. You would have a calm trip.

You hugged all the hybrids, letting them scent you. Jimin’s eyes were growing misty and you hugged him extra hard assuring him you would be back soon. You rubbed your forehead against Jin’s and kissed his cheek in goodbye, his skin warming up under your lips. Goodbyes were hard and you’d thought you’d gotten used to them. Saying goodbye to Taylor and Zayn before tours, to your aunt the rare times you could visit her, to your friends, to the actors and the crew.

And yet your chest was tight.

Namjoon was talking with John by the car and you heard him asking John to take care of you and Jungkook. John replied he would protect you with his life. John was your bodyguard but this had been more than a job to him for a long time.

From the corner of your eye you saw Jimin approach Jungkook. He reached to touch him, hug him. Jungkook flinched. Jimin’s hand hovered in the air before going limp. He backed away, his chin dropping to his chest and jaw trembling.

You bit the inside of your cheek. A hand landed on your shoulder and you turned to find Namjoon standing next to you. You weren’t the only one who had watched the youngests’ exchange. You hid in his arms, forgetting about the world for a moment. The two hybrids who loved each other too much, the trip you had to take, production being halted, that godforsaken earthquake. He nosed along your neck, his warm breath tingling your skin.

Jungkook got into the car first, an escape, and you followed soon after, a necessity. The house got smaller and smaller behind you as the car drove away. The Castle fading in the distance. Another trip. Different reasons, a different disaster, but familiar territory. Once you used to be excited about these trips, exploring a new place and living new experiences. Where had that part of yourself gone?

But you weren’t alone this time. Jungkook was looking out of the window, his head laying against the glass. You would take him to that yogurt shop you had liked so much and you would show him the park you wanted to film at and take him to that endearing small cinema. Yeah, you would do that.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The hotel towered over the rest of the buildings in the area. It wasn’t the same one you had stayed on your first visit last year, more grand and definitely more expensive. The company had gone all out. An admirable attempt to quell your anger, yet it continued simmering underbeath your skin. A young man was waiting for you outside, taking the suitcases from the car and leading you to the lobby.

Jungkook looked around with wide eyes and an open mouth. There was so much glass and marble, almost everything was made using these two materials.

The receptionist smiled at you wide, her teeth white and straight like her uniform. She welcomed you to the hotel and handed you two key cards, white with a gold line on front and the room numbers in cursive. Two cards.

“I was sure I’d forgotten something,” you muttered.

The receptionist’s smile faltered. “Is something not to your liking, miss?”

Two cards. One for your room and one for John’s. You had notified the company about Jungkook accompanying you but you hadn’t requested another room. Granted, you had thought they would come to the conclusion on their own. One more room would have cost them a lot, though. Easy way out. But you couldn’t exactly blame them. At hotels, owners rarely bothered to spend money on a room for their hybrids.

You held the cards like a magician ready to do a trick, showing them to John.

“Shouldn’t there be one more?” he asked.

The woman behind the desk blinked a few times. “More? Two rooms were booked in the name Y/N Y/L/N. Is there a problem?”

You sighed. “No, I guess there isn’t. Or there wasn’t supposed to be.” Jungkook watched the exchange shifting from foot to foot. His black hoodie was a size too big and he was drowning in it. “Do you have any available rooms in the same floor.”

“I’m afraid we don’t, miss. The rooms on the top floor are all booked for the night.”

“Great.” You couldn’t think of another solution, you would have to make do. “Thank you. We’ll be going now.”

“Have a nice stay,” the receptionist said.

The elevator was as luxurious as the lobby, a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. John had your black bag slung over his shoulder. The man with your suitcases was already gone, you would find them in your rooms when you arrived. There was a mirror to your left and leaning your back against the wall your gazed at your reflection. With your black circles hidden with concealer and carefully applied makeup, you looked just a little tired from the flight. You had brushed your hair on the plane and it fell in waves over your shoulders, curling at the tips.

Jungkook hadn’t been to a hotel before and it showed as he tried to take everything in. The lights that were on even in the afternoon, the golds and whites, the mirrors and glass and the velvet seats. It was wonderful but still it wasn’t the best hotel you had stayed at.

The elevator’s doors opened with a ding and you walked into the well-lit corridors. Doors were on either side with a sitting area at the front. You had stayed in many hotels over the years but they were nothing more than a place for rest. Sleep and shower, that’s all you did in your room. And sometimes breakfast or dinner if you didn’t feel like going out.

Stopping in front of a white door, you checked the numbers on the cards again. The two rooms were very close, only a few meters distance from each other.

Two rooms. Right.

You handed John his key card. “So, we’ve got two rooms…” Jungkook looked at you curiously. “I hope you don’t mind staying in my room with me for now. Unless you would prefer staying with John and his snoring.”

John pointed a finger at you. “Hey, I don’t snore.”

You hummed. “Sure you don’t. What I have been hearing all those years must be the pigs outside.”

Jungkook was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand and doing a poor job of it.

John dropped your bag by your feet. “Do you hear her? No respect for me. That’s what I get for listening to your every whim for years. I’ll go to my room now and snore in peace.”

You giggled as John struggled to swipe the key card right. With an ‘aha’, he managed to open the door and get inside. You swiped your own card, the door clicking open at the first try. Both of you had been doing it for years but John was more of a fan of traditional keys.

The company had booked a suite for you, which you guessed was one of the best in the hotel. The door opened to a grand living room with white velvet couches and armchairs and a 75 inch TV. You took off your sneakers before stepping on the wool carpet, it was white with veins of gold running through it.

You fell on the couch, taking off your backpack and placing it on the floor. “I’m sorry for this, I thought they would book three rooms for us.”

Jungkook looked at you from where he was still standing by the door, his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack. “Why would they book three rooms?” There was a gap here. Hybrids stayed with their owners, that was the norm. You realized that was what he had expected.

“We are three people. I thought you would want your own room. I told them you would be coming with me for the tickets but they didn’t change the rooms they had booked.” You threw your head back and closed your eyes. “Everything is going so well already.”

There a shuffling of feet from the door. “I thought… I can stay with John if he doesn’t mind or… I can…”

You opened your eyes. Jungkook was looking at the floor, his ears drooped at the sides of his head. “What are you talking about?”

Jungkook hugged himself. “I don’t want to bother you.”

And it clicked. You got up from the couch. “Oh, bunny. You aren’t bothering me. I only wanted one more room because I thought that’s what you wanted, that you wanted your own space.” You didn’t touch him, remembering him flinching and pulling away, but you stayed close to show him you were there for him.

“Oh, I-” He flushed, not knowing what to say. You had been past that stage and it was unfortunate to see the shyness and hesitance come back.

“Come on, take off your shoes,” you said, motioning for him to come further into the room. “I desperately need a shower. Then we can rest. I don’t have to do anything until late tonight. Do you want to go in first?”

Jungkook sat down gingerly on the couch. “No, no, you can go in first. I think I’ll sleep a little.”

You stopped him before he could lay down. “Here?”

Confused, he looked around at the furniture. “Should I take the smaller couch?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said. “But there is a huge bed in the bedroom. If you feel uncomfortable though, I could take the couch.”

Jungkook shot up at that. “No, no way. You have work, you should sleep in the bed.” The redness creeped into his cheeks again. “I would like… I would like to share, if that’s alright.”

You gave him a smile. “That’s more than alright. Come in, then.”

You were planning to make the most out of this trip.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jimin had memorized everything you had said about checking and treating Hoseok’s injuries. He had memorized the pills he was taking, the salves you used and the times you checked on him during the day. Before you left, he had even looked up all the injuries Hoseok had on Google and read all the information he could find. You had told him Hoseok was well on his way to recovery and he didn’t have to worry much. But he was worried. He was very worried.

He had thought he had been ready, that he could do this. But standing outside their door, second thoughts were smothering him.

What if he did something wrong and he hurt him? What if he made everything worse? If he pressed too hard, if he used the wrong cream, if he wrapped the bandages wrong…

Seokjin would have been much better at this. He took care of them like a parent, he would have been a better choice than Jimin. But Seokjin was the one to cook all their meals, he had enough on his plate. Yoongi could have done it but… He had only glared at you and sneered something that sounded very much like a refusal.

Yoongi…

He hadn’t talked to him since the day he had chased him to the alleyway. The older didn’t leave the room he shared with Hoseok unless it was absolutely necessary. Jimin didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this… This stasis they were trapped in. He had expected someone yelling, accusing. Sharp words, that didn’t match the soft voice he had been used to. There had been none of that. Nothing at all. He wasn’t sure what he preferred.

Hoseok smiled a little at him when he walked into the room. He was sitting up in his bed with his reddish tail in his lap. Yoongi, laying in his own bed, didn’t acknowledge him but his dark eyes were burning Jimin’s skin when he wasn’t looking.

Hoseok patted the bed with the hand that wasn’t in a cast. His smile was smaller than it had been in the morning. Your absence wasn’t affecting only them. Jimin had heard you telling stories to Hoseok, you had done the same with Jungkook. But he had no stories to tell, nothing worth sharing. He hadn’t traveled the world, he didn’t have interesting and famous friends, he didn’t have a job or childhood memories by the beach.

Silence spread, only broken by his apologies every time Hoseok winced. He was holding back for his sake and it made his stomach clench. He left the room like there were hell-hounds on his heels.

The second day you were gone everyone woke up early in the morning, like all the days they had to be up early to see you before leaving for work. You might not be there but his body demanded he wake up and drag his feet upstairs for breakfast. A book was laying cover up on the table. One of the leather-bound classics you kept on the top shelves of the library. Namjoon read it at night before going to sleep.

Seokjin placed a plate of pancakes in front of Jimin. Pancakes were his favorite.

Belly full, he trudged to the second level.

“Good morning,” he greeted, coming through the door.

Hoseok’s fox ears twitched. “Good morning,” he said with a small smile. Yoongi remained silent, standing by the glass wall.

Jimin fetched the medical kit from the bathroom. Everything he would need was in there. “Did you sleep well?” He tried to make conversation. It wasn’t easy when he felt like he could erupt at any moment with Yoongi’s gaze on him. If he hurt Hoseok, Yoongi would never look at him again. Or he could do so much worse. But Jimin had already lost him years ago.

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied, fumbling with the blanket he was sitting on. “I had a weird dream. About being at the lake. There was a statue there and he was talking… It was good, though.”

There was a small Greek style statue on the half-empty shelves of the room, a Kouros you had explained to him. “It must be because of that.” Jimin motioned to the shelves. “There are pieces of ancient Greece all over the house. The first show Y/N directed was about Persephone and Hades, the Greek god of the dead. Greek mythology has a special place for her.”

“She talked to me about Greece a little but she didn’t say anything about the show,” Hoseok said.

Jimin opened the medical kit, remembering watching the episodes one after the next, hanging from every word the characters said. “The show is so good! I couldn’t stop watching it, I didn’t want to get out of the cinema room for anything. The characters were perfect, Persephone was so sweet and kind but she-” He stopped himself, cutting off his rambling. The cream in his hand was getting warm.

Hoseok sat up straighter to help his work. “But what? Why did you stop?”

Jimin startled. He could at least do this, he could speak about the show. He had watched the episodes multiple times and he had asked you so many questions, some of which you hadn’t talked your way around. Hoseok didn’t wince as much as the first time and maybe Jimin go a little carried away, but he didn’t make any mistakes and Hoseok even asked questions and talked with him.

The cat hybrid had to suppress the shivers the eyes on his back sent down his spine.

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Greek gods, fantasy, romance and mysteries. That’s what made you rich. That’s what got you this huge house and more money than anyone would ever see in their lives. The Castle. Yoongi scoffed. What a pretentious name for an even more pretentious house, but that was the way it worked.

Yoongi disliked rich people on principle. Privileged, arrogant and self-entitled were only a few of the adjectives he would use to describe them. They thought they could control anyone because they had money and money made the world go round. Money could get you everything and that’s what they wanted. Everything. In long coats and designer sunglasses looking for entertainment in the most dubious places, feeding off the struggle of the others. Watching enraptured as others fought for their lives.

All of them were the same. It didn’t matter if they were hiding behind smiling masks or surface philanthropic acts. They were the same. And you were just like them. He refused to believe anything else. Despite how hard it was getting. But every time he was slipping, he would remember the pleads and rough hands. His resolve didn’t crack.

He heard all the stories you told Hoseok. Not that he wanted to but there wasn’t a chance he would leave him alone with you. Most of them were funny and although he didn’t want to admit, there were parts the corners of his mouth had lifted up without his permission. He was grateful for those stories, they made Hoseok forget. One rare time, when you were telling him about a disaster on set that involved three spoons, a maraca and a lost script, Hoseok had giggled and Yoongi’s heart had come close to bursting out.

Every morning and every night you would have a different story for him and it made Yoongi wonder if they were all true or if you were coming up with them on the spot. Not that it mattered, it made Hoseok smile and that was enough. Yoongi had found himself waiting for the times you would come into their room and start talking. You had a way with words.

And now you were gone, leaving them alone in the house, alone with no one watching over them like a guard dog (except that damned wolf hybrid, but that was another case entirely). There were a few things he knew about the world and one of them was that hybrids weren’t left alone in a house that cost more than his handlers would make in their whole lives. He didn’t like surprises and he hated how full of them you were.

Jimin had been the one to take over and you must have been somewhere in Virginia laughing at Yoongi’s expense. The younger looked good, his cheeks were full and there was a certain glow on his soft skin. Jimin had always looked beautiful but now he was ethereal. He couldn’t keep his eyes away.

Hoseok pressed a few buttons on the TV remote and groaned. After Jimin’s excitement about the show in the morning, he had decided he would watch the show. Jimin had showed him how to put it on but Hoseok was having some trouble.

“Give that to me,” Yoongi grumbled, taking the remote. He searched for the title among the options (there were too many of them).

Hoseok pointed at one of the pictures. “That’s it! That’s it! “Land of the Gods”.”

A girl wearing a flower crown was gazing at him from the screen. He clicked on the picture and the synopsis and the episode list appeared. “Are you seriously going to watch that?”

“It must be good if Jimin was so excited about it. He was so excited he got me excited.” A smile stretched his lips. Yoongi was weak.

“What do you know about Greek mythology?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Not much but I don’t think I need to. The show has to be good if it got her where she is now. I’m sure she must have been great at her job to be this successful.”

If anything, there was no doubt you were successful. He could see it everywhere he looked. One night he had been watching the news, Hoseok long asleep, and they had talked about your newest project set to start filming in May. One of the greatest directors of our generation, they had called you, predicting high ratings and large audiences. But success didn’t necessarily mean talent and Yoongi told himself he didn’t care enough to see if you had it.

Contemplating, he sat on the bed by Hoseok’s side. “We should discuss when we are leaving.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, his tail fluffing up. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, leaving. You’re better, aren’t you? We should be gone before she comes back.” Yoongi threw the remote on the bed.

“Oh.” Hoseok’s fox ears lowered. “I wanted to thank her, it feels wrong to leave like this.”

Yoongi sighed. He could understand Hoseok, he didn’t want to leave either. He wasn’t stupid. Having a warm meal three times a day was more than they could dream of in the streets. It was more than they could dream of when they had a roof over their heads and murky water on their tongues. These few days Yoongi had eaten and slept more than he had in three years but it had to end. It was nothing more than a polished dream. He didn’t want your pity and he wouldn’t have accepted to come here if it hadn’t been for Hoseok.

“I think she would appreciate us leaving more than a thank you,” Yoongi said. “We don’t know how long she will be gone and we have already overstayed our welcome.”

“We… yeah.” Hoseok gave in. “But you should talk to Jimin before we go.” Yoongi stiffened. “I have seen the way you look at him, you know. I heard you that first day. He is the only reason we are here now. I can connect the dots. I don’t ask you about your past because I know it hurts you but I ask you this. Talk to him before we go. Jimin… Jimin looks like a part of your past that shouldn’t hurt this much.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw. Because Jimin was the most painful part of his past. Everything that had happened to him, everything he had been through didn’t hold anything to the pain he felt when thinking about Jimin and his delicate features. Nothing hurt more than the images of that night ingrained in his brain. He didn’t deserve to forget, he didn’t even try.

“I can’t talk to him.”

Hoseok scooted closer and Yoongi reached to steady him. The fox hybrid would laugh at him, he had the all clear to move on his own and he didn’t need help with something as simple as this, but he didn’t push him away. “Why not?

“I just can’t.” Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him. “Hobi, just let it go. Jimin wouldn’t want to talk to me, there is too much you don’t know.”

Hoseok turned his head away. “Yes, because you don’t tell me.”

“Hobi…” Yoongi placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles, there were no bruises there. “What happened, it’s better if you don’t know. I don’t want any more people being haunted by what I did.”

Hoseok’s eyes softened, taking Yoongi’s hands in his own. Every touch from Hoseok was like a brush with the sun. “If you think anything you say could change my opinion of you, you don’t know me at all. You saved me, Yoongi. You saved me when I thought I was done for, when I thought I wouldn’t live to see another day. If you weren’t there, if I didn’t have you…” A shaky breath fell past his lips. He squeezed Yoongi’s hands in his and Yoongi squeezed back. “I would have never gotten out without you. You are all I have.”

Yoongi touched Hoseok’s cheek, nosing against his neck and breathing in the scent of cinnamon. “And you’re all I have.”

The first episode of “Land of the Gods” played as Yoongi laid next to Hoseok with the younger’s head on his chest.

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The workers kept looking at you like children who had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar and it wasn’t even their fault. They had been following instructions and using the materials the company had sent. The one who had decided to forgo the safety measures because they were too expensive had yet to admit to anything, but a storm was brewing and you would watch until the end. They could say whatever they wanted about you but no one’s life was at risk on your watch.

You hadn’t been alone in the sentiment, most of your co-workers siding with you and calling meetings after meetings on the matter. You had taken it up to yourself to send a lengthy email to the president and were waiting for a reply that wouldn’t take long to come.

In the meantime, you were stuck with damage control. The meticulously designed sets had turned into ruins and rubble. A lot of expensive equipment had been destroyed and the replacements had yet to arrive. The first night you had a short meeting at a building the company was renting and then drove to the set to survey the damage. You had gritted your teeth at the sight of broken blocks like legos. There was nothing more to see.

You came back with heavy limbs and dust on your jeans. The air-conditioning was on and Jungkook was sitting on the couch watching a superhero movie. It wasn’t one you recognized, an older one than those you usually watched. You changed into your pajamas after taking a shower for the third time in a day (your skin barrier was set to be destroyed soon) and joined him in the living room. Neither of you had had dinner so you ordered food from the first place you found on the web. The delivery was fast and you settled on the couch, eating pizza and watching an old Samuel L. Jackson film.

Fortunately, the earthquake hadn’t caused any major disasters but you had heard that a couple of people had been injured. The most damage in the area had been to the TV show sets. That was alright, you could work on that.

Your schedule wasn’t much different from usual. You woke up early, the sun peaking over the horizon and showering the room in its morning glow through the thin curtains. Reaching for your phone, you turned off the alarm before it could start ringing. You woke up earlier but you scheduled it every night regardless of that. Jungkook blinked his eyes open as soon as you moved a little, he was used to waking up early too.

At breakfast it was only the two of you, John and the hotel staff. It was way too early for anyone else. Jungkook didn’t leave the hotel and you spent most of the day outside. The first days were the most crucial and therefore the most busy. Go there, take this, fill this out, talk to him/her. An endless task list. And there were a lot of things you had to figure out yourself.

“You should come with me today,” you said, digging your spoon into the bowl of yogurt. You ate a generous breakfast to propel through the morning.

“T-to work?” Jungkook stuttered, his hand loosening around the spoon. He was eating pancakes with maple syrup and you had a feeling about who he was thinking of.

You rolled the spoon between your fingers. “Well, you don’t have to come to work with me. We could drop you off at a coffee shop or a park if you want to. You can’t stay cooped up in the hotel room all day.”

John nodded in agreement. “I think it’s a good idea. You need some fresh air, staying in three rooms can’t be good for you.”

Jungkook dropped his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “I’m alright here, you don’t have to worry about me. Really.”

“But that’s what I’ll do at work if you stay in here for one more day,” you said. “You can go anywhere, there is a whole city to explore. And if I have any breaks I can call and I’ll come find you.”

Jungkook looked down at the pancakes. “I don’t think I should be out alone.”

“Of course you can. You can wear a collar and no one will say anything. We packed a few didn’t-?” Wearing a collar would protect him from the hybrid services, especially with your name and number engraved in the back of a charm. But you realized it wasn’t hybrid services he was afraid of. A hybrid alone in the streets could be an easy target, Jimin and Jungkook had been together that night and still… But it was broad daylight. “John could come with you,” you offered.

“No, no, he should be with you,” Jungkook protested weakly.

You exchanged a look with John, after years you were perfect at reading each other. “I actually think John would have a much better time with you. The only thing he does with me is follow me around and wait for the day to end. And it’s not like I’m in any danger there, I’m surrounded by a lot of people and some of the places have security so…”

“Or she’s trying to get rid of me,” John said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Not that I’m complaining, waiting outside of those meetings gets very boring very quickly. Who will drive you?”

“It won’t be hard to find someone. I’ll catch a ride with Will, he has plenty of space in his car.” Will was the assistant director and he had been dragged to Virginia with you. When you worked it was rare to find one without the other. He had been with you for a few years and he was your right hand on set, he could get everything you asked done in a matter of seconds and often better than you could have done them yourself.

Satisfied, John finished his sandwich. “It’s settled then, I’ll go with the guy while you run around like a mad woman.”

“It isn’t so much running around today,” you mumbled. In comparison to other days, that was.

Jungkook picked up his fork again, his nose twitching. “Thank you, but I really don’t know where to go.”

You smiled. “That’s the most exciting part. There are so many places you can choose from. John knows the area a little, he knows a few places worth visiting.” John saluted with two fingers on his temple. “Is there something you want to do?”

Jungkook shrugged. “The park maybe? I would like to walk a little if that’s alright.”

“Fine by me,” John said. “Let’s reconnect with Mother Nature a little.”

You shook your head. “As if the sets aren’t in the middle of nowhere. They’re like thirty to forty minutes from the city, I spend most of my day in a car.”

“Stop complaining. It’s partly your fault,” John reminded you, which only caused you to complain more.

Jungkook let out a cute giggle at your bickering. He looked small in his oversized hoodie, it was a gray one this time with design of black swirls interwining and forming a heart. He would have to change before going out. He would melt otherwise.

They dropped you off at the set, having spent most of the thirty minute drive (John was a fast driver, always following the speed limit though) listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind. Jungkook had insisted on coming with when John dropped you off instead of waiting at the hotel for John to come back. He didn’t care that the drive would be more than an hour for him. You stepped out of the car, adjusted your backpack with all the papers and files inside and sent flying kisses to them while John rolled his eyes.

It was one of the good days, everyone was in a relatively good mood, they were listening to you and the conversations about the problems you were facing rolled smoothly. Will had taken over some of the most tiring tasks ignoring your protests so you were left to do most of the talking and the moral support part.

They worked quickly but there was no doubt that the sets wouldn’t be ready for filming to start on the initial date you had set, you would have to rely more on the sets in Los Angeles and film some scenes earlier than planned. Time was precious and you couldn’t waste it sitting around doing nothing.

Will was more than happy to give you a ride back to the city, you had many things to discuss on the way. You hadn’t been at this park before. It wasn’t the one you were considering for filming but it was just as nice. John had texted you where they were and you had typed the address in Will’s GPS. It was way past lunch and you wondered if they hadn’t left the park since the morning. That was a lot of hours spent in a park.

You followed the cobblestone path, tall trees framing the way adorned with green leaves and tiny flowers. Sending a quick message to John asking him about more specific directions, you stopped at a bridge arching over a small river and rested your elbows on the railing waiting for the reply.

You missed home in a way you hadn’t before. Home hadn’t always been Los Angeles, it had taken a long time for you to see it that way. It had been your hometown at first and that would always remain a part of you but it had been years since you had stayed there for more than two weeks. Home had been a suitcase and a vague idea of belonging for the most of your adult life. Being at a new place every few months, often more than that, you traveled and met people, you explored new places and learnt their secrets and culture. Los Angeles was just the base you returned to before you were gone again.

And then you had met Taylor and Zayn and suddenly you had a reason to come back other than necessity. They had become your closest friends and you held a new appreciation for the city because that’s where you spent time with them, strolling through the streets and going to the beach or staying inside watching movies or baking.

And through Zayn you had met Jacob and Los Angeles became more and more to you. The two of you had decided to build your life there together. That was gone now but the City of Angels had sneaked into your heart and made a home for itself there. Yet you hadn’t missed it like this before.

Texts and calls were fine for some time but not nearly enough. Jungkook was withdrawn while you talked to the other hybrids and Jimin’s voice got smaller and smaller every time the youngest refused to speak with him until he stopped trying. Namjoon and Jin tried to comfort him but the only person who could help was the one shutting him out. On top of that, Jimin tended to Hoseok’s wounds, the two hybrids were still at the Castle and you hoped they wouldn’t leave until you got back. You wanted to check in with Hoseok one more time before they were gone, back to the streets.

The streets… Those damn streets. Where Hoseok had been beat up, where Jimin and Jungkook had been attacked, where they didn’t know which day would be their last, starving or being beaten to death. You had done all you could, when they refused any more help, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough.

A whistle made you turn around.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” John called to you.

“Me?” you called back. “How long have you been here? Did you eat lunch?”

“We went to a restaurant nearby, John ordered the best from the menu. I told him to wait for you but he said you would be late,” Jungkook said.

You ruffled his hair and he shuffled closer to you. “Late… I’m not late, I didn’t say I would be back for lunch.”

Jungkook chuckled. “When are you back for lunch?”

You gasped. “You have been spending too much time with John. He’s corrupting you!”

On the other side of the bridge, the path opened up to a large expanse of grass with a few trees sprinkled in. Jungkook had his sketchpad with him and sat down against a tree with pieces of black charcoal, a method he had been experimenting with.

Next to him, you pulled out a notebook from your backpack, it was your personal space where you could write anything and everything. Drawing faint thick lines on the paper, Jungkook told you excitedly about his day with John, who was sitting at a bench talking on the phone with his family.

A shine you hadn’t seen in a while was back in Jungkook’s eyes. You took photos and sent them to the hybrids at home and rolled around in the grass. He pointed at the clouds and what each of them looked like. There was turtle, an elephant and a vase, although you insisted it looked more like an Egyptian cat.

Jungkook came with you to work later and although he was shy and stayed away from everyone else, trailing behind you like a lost puppy, he was smiling. Fascinated, he listened to your conversations about the show and the sets and admired the designs. Your co-workers cooed at the cute bunny hybrid and he flushed hiding behind you.

When the day was over and you were back at the hotel, you realized it was the most fun you’d had since coming to Virginia. Freshly showered with his wet hair sticking to his forehead, Jungkook slipped into the bed next to you.

“Did you have a good time?” you asked. In the quiet of the night it felt wrong for your voice to be louder than a whisper. “You can be honest with me. I won’t take it personally.”

A small smile simmered on Jungkook’s lips as he turned on his side to look at you. In the lights of the city coming through the window, his chocolate brown eyes seemed black. “I had the best of times. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It was nice having you there, it was… different. A good different. You should come again tomorrow, to the sets outside the city this time.”

“I would like that,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Jungkook repeated in a breath.

It would be nice to have him with you. He wasn’t distracting you, on the contrary you were more focused because you knew he was there watching you, you wanted to show him the best of you. This was far from the most exciting part of the process of making a film but it was necessary. Well, it wouldn’t have been necessary if someone hadn’t decided to purposely forget all about the safety measures but you had already dedicated too much of your energy being angry about it.

Once the actual filming had started you would take Jungkook with you and show him the behind the scenes of how a TV show was made. If he was fascinated with this part then he would love filming. The actors were incredible and they had found their connections to the characters, channeling them at the table readings, it would be even better when they were in the costumes on set.

“I liked it,” Jungkook said. “I really liked seeing you work.”

You smiled at the bunny. “You used to see me work every day at the Castle.”

“But it wasn’t the same.” Jungkook laid his head on his hand. “You looked different there,” he said. “You looked powerful, like you could do anything. Everyone looked at you like you had all the answers.”

“It was a good day, I guess. It isn’t always like that. I might look confident and like I have everything under control all the time but that’s far from the truth.”

For all of your fame and the praise you received, you did make mistakes, you got stuck and felt helpless against some problems. Not everyone listened to you and you got into arguments with the executive producers sometimes. And you weren’t always the one who was right.

“Looking confident is half of the job, even when you don’t feel like it. It’s one of those situations where ‘fake it till you make it’ is a requirement. When you want to be heard you have to look and act like you are sure of what you’re doing, especially when you are a young woman at an important position. If you don’t, people begin to doubt you and if they doubt you, they will begin to talk over you and disregard your opinions. That was the first lesson I learnt on this job.”

At seventeen, you had been in charge of directing “Land of the Gods” and it wasn’t all smooth sailing, much less at the beginning. You were young, too young for most of them. You couldn’t direct such a project they said. They questioned your every move and decision, every correction you made and everything you said to the actors during a scene. They didn’t take you seriously until halfway through filming and even then they didn’t hesitate to question your authority. A constant battle of wills.

But it had gotten you here. You couldn’t complain.

“You’ve done so many things,” Jungkook said as if in awe. “All those shows and movies. And they are all so good. You are so talented. I could have never achieved what you have even if I wasn’t…” He left the sentence hanging.

You adjusted your position, laying on your forearm. “I don’t believe that, I think you would be marvelous at whatever you did. You have the dedication and that’s half of the job done. About me…” You let out a small chuckle. “I was very young when I started, I’m still young considering my profession, and I had so many ideas. I still have so many of them.” Or you used to, before the buzz in your brain became just noise. “And I don’t want to wait so long the industry gets tired of me, I have to take advantage of the light as long as it’s on me.”

“I don’t think they can get tired of you, not when your movies and shows are… like that. I couldn’t get tired of them,” Jungkook said. “It’s just- I’m not-” Frustrated, he cut himself off. “You work too much. I’m just… When was the last time you had a break? An actual break without working in any form.”

You opened your mouth to answer and closed it again. It certainly wasn’t this year and it wasn’t last year either. When you had taken a break to buy and decorate the house, you had been answering calls about work when you had been choosing the paints for the walls and writing scripts while you discussed floor plans. Break for you wasn’t a time you didn’t work but rather a time they couldn’t call you to the offices or the set.

“It’s been a while,” you said in the end. “I’ve got a lot of things going on, I don’t really have the time to take a break. I can’t leave them hanging, they rely on me.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t. Not so much.”

But that’s how it has always been for as long as you could remember. You were involved in every single part of the process, in every decision, from the scripts, to casting, to the set and costume design, to the actual filming, the post-production and the editing. Supervising and making sure that everything was right. That was your charm, that was one of the reasons you were one of the most sought-after directors in Hollywood. Each project was a part of yourself. If you let those responsibilities go, what would that mean for you? What would they say about you?

The air-conditioning made a small sound as the room reached the desired temperature. The setting wasn’t too low, a pleasant coolness replacing the stifling heat. The thick walls of the hotel kept the heat of the day trapped inside, something that would be very beneficial in winter but a lot less so in spring nearing summer.

“Anyway, I think we’ll be done in a few days,” you said. “We’ll probably be home by the end of the week. The new plans have been drawn and there is only one more meeting I have to attend and that’s more for appearances’ sake than anything else. The rest is up to the crew here.”

Jungkook’s smile wavered. “So soon? Don’t you have any more work? The people here seemed to need you.”

“They don’t need me, there is nothing more I can offer them. My place right now is in Los Angeles, that’s where they need me.” You nudged his foot with yours, your knees were close enough to touch every time you moved. “But that’s not what you’re nervous about, is it?”

Jungkook shook his head, hiding half of his face in the pillow. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Kookie…” You nudged his foot again until your legs were intertwined underneath the thin sheets. “Staying here won’t help anyone. You have to talk to him.”

Jungkook closed his eyes as if the conversation pained him. “He shouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“But he does. You know he has been asking for you,” you said.

“He stopped.”

“Because you never replied. Doing this, pulling away and ignoring him, you’re hurting him more than whatever you feel guilty for. You didn’t see how sad he was every time you didn’t show up for a meal or when he called for you and you ignored him. You’re hurting him and I know that isn’t what you want so why do you keep doing it?”

A sob clawed out of Jungkook’s throat and he tried to muffle it with his fist. Your eyes widened at the sound, instinctively pulling the younger boy into your arms. He didn’t fight you, holding on to you like you were the only thing keeping his afloat, hiding his face in your neck as the sobs he couldn’t suppress fell from his lips.

“What… What I did to him was h-horibble. I-I took adva-advantage of him,” Jungkook chocked out as his tears dampened your skin. “And I know, I know he’s going to forgive me. But I don’t want him to. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t forgive-” A sob cut him off. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

You run your hands through his hair, scratching gently at the base of his bunny ears, something that used to calm him down. “Baby… You should let him have that choice, you can’t take it away from him.”

“I can’t forgive myself,” he muttered, desperation and heartbreak seeping into his voice like water through the cracks of a dam until it breaks.

“If Jimin can forgive you then you can work towards forgiving yourself. All I know is that you love each other too much to continue like this.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It was the fifth day you were gone. Seokjin had been keeping track, the equivalent of another line engraved on the wall of a cell. He had been going to sleep and waking up alone in a bed that felt too large for one person. He had added more blankets and stuffed animals decorating embellishing his nest but it did nothing for the feeling of emptiness covering it like a veil.

You called every day and texted them religiously, it was more than he could have expected but much less than what he craved. Jungkook sent photos of the hotel suite and of every place he visited with short captions. Seokjin smiled as his heart constricted.

It was the fifth day you were gone and he was sitting at the large table in the back garden, drinking tea at the time he would have been bringing yours before you had to go back to work. Jin didn’t consider himself a clingy person. He was loyal and protective of the people he loved, he obeyed his past owners and he took care of them. But this was new. It had been five days, the number didn’t change but Jin felt like it had been much longer than that. When his past owners left it wasn’t for long, less than two weeks, he didn’t have the time to miss them. He hadn’t missed them. Two weeks. Five days.

Jungkook would be nagging at him by now, tugging his arm or foot or whatever part of him he could get and if Jin didn’t give in the bunny hybrid would sprawl himself next to the older with his head in his lap. Despite Seokjin warnings about getting splashed with tea or coffee in the face, Jungkook stayed there.

If you were back from work, a rare occurrence, you would insist you all spent that time together. Like a family.

Family. Such a peculiar word. It was one of those words Seokjin couldn’t grasp the real meaning of. He was a hybrid, he didn’t have parents, the one who had given birth to him had delivered him to the scientists earning a large amount of money for her services. His first owners had trained him harsher than a pet and treated him like a servant or a living piece of decor. It didn’t matter if he’d thought of them as his family to feel better for himself, they owned him and they didn’t let him forget.

He didn’t know what having a family felt like. But he guessed it felt a lot like the mornings before you left for work and Jungkook was bickering with Jimin about how much he could eat while Namjoon was smirking into his coffee.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

Seokjin startled, the mug trembling dangerously in his hands. Another hand enveloped his to steady it. “How do you do that? I almost had a heart attack.”

Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “You aren’t the first one to say that, about the heart attack. I’ll try to make more noise next time.”

There was only a tiny bit of tea left at the bottom of the mug so Seokjin placed it on the table to avoid any more surprises that could threaten its survival. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked, looking at the black backpack Namjoon was wearing.

“I’m going for a walk in the forest. Would you like to join me?”

“Like this?” he gestured to his casual attire.

“Maybe you should wear different shoes,” he said referring to the slippers he was wearing.

Seokjin was tempted to say no, sugar gliders might be native to forests but he didn’t have the same ease among trees. But he was tired of being in his own company and something inside him was screaming to go and be with his pack. After all, it was impossible to not give into Namjoon’s dimples.

“Okay, I’ll come with you. Just don’t lead us so far away we won’t be able to come back.”

Namjoon’s smile widened as Jin left to change his shoes. His sneakers were in a box under his bed. He had worn them only once because he preferred wearing his slippers in the house or the gardens. These sneakers were the ones he had on when you had gone to the lake before you had to go back to work and be away for most of the day.

The wolf hybrid was waiting in the back garden for him by the curtain of vines with the purple blooms. The mug was nowhere in sight.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked him.

“Ready,” Seokjin said, not paying any mind to the fluttering in his stomach.

Namjoon pulled the curtain of vines aside, the path stretching ahead. The forest was alive in spring, trees green and tall, creating shade for the small creatures roaming around to hide from the sun. And when a few sun-rays slipped through the spaces between the branches and the leaves, they looked like a touch from the gods.

Namjoon navigated the forest with practiced ease and Seokjin had a feeling the wolf hybrid knew exactly where they were going. He just hoped Jimin wouldn’t look for them while they were gone, but knowing Namjoon he had probably already told Jimin. Or Jimin could call them. Seokjin wasn’t used to having his own phone and often he forgot he had the device.

Staying close to Namjoon, he kept his eyes on the ground. A poor attempt to keep his tripping to the minimal. But the forest was conspiring against him. Roots, stones, sticks, everything he could trip over was in his path.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Namjoon stopped, turning to look at him. He smirked. “It’s a surprise.”

“No, I prefer no surprises,” Jin said. Rock. He stepped over it, avoiding a possible humiliating fall. “Tell me where we’re going. Is it far?”

“Not too far.” Not too far for Namjoon could be totally different from Seokjin’s idea of not too far. “I swear to you we aren’t getting lost today. I know this part of the forest like the back of hand and I have a good sense of direction. See?” He pointed to the direction of a large tree on his right. “That’s north,” he pointed to the opposite direction, “and that-”

Before he could finish, Seokjin had tripped over a protruding root. He hadn’t seen it, being too focused on Namjoon. He let a shriek as he tumbled to the ground, scratching his hands as they came in contact with the ground fist.

Namjoon called his name but he hadn’t been fast enough. He grasped Seokjin’s elbows pulling him up so he was sitting instead of laying face down on the dirt.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon asked, kneeling next to him, and Seokjin felt heat travel to his face and his chest tightening. He had an urge to flee and forget that had happened. Namjoon didn’t give him the chance though. He took his hands in his, turning them over and inspecting the damage. Dirt was clinging on the flesh and Namjoon blew on them to make some it go away. “We need to clean this.” He pulled out a water bottle from his backpack and poured water on his hands. It did sting a little but Seokjin was used to much worse than this.

Thin lines were etched on his palm, none of them bleeding. His hands had taken most of the burnt of the fall. The pride he had been piecing back together hurt more than his body did.

“We should go back,” Namjoon said, letting his hands go. Seokjin mourned the loss then reprimanded himself for it. “Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea.”

“I’m fine,” he said. He didn’t like the frown on Namjoon’s face. “We don’t have to go back. I don’t want to go back.” He cleared his throat. His face, neck and ears felt impossibly hot.

Namjoon regarded him with careful eyes. “Are you sure? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Really, I’m fine,” he repeated. He put one hand on the ground to steady himself and get back on his feet. It didn’t work very well because as soon as Namjoon saw him moving he was helping him up supporting most of his weight. “It wasn’t painful, more embarrassing than anything else,” Seokjin muttered. Despite the low tone, Namjoon heard him and his face smoothed. “Let’s go. We will never get to that place you want before nightfall at this rate.”

Namjoon chuckled shaking his head. “If you say so.” Seokjin expected him to start walking but instead he laced their fingers together. “Is this okay? I don’t want you falling again. If you trip again I’ll keep you up or at least we’ll fall together.”

Seokjin huffed out a laugh, lightheaded. Namjoon wasn’t distant but he wasn’t open with his affection like Jimin or Jungkook or even you and feeling his hand in his had ignited something inside him he was struggling to bury.

They held hands all the way to the secret destination. Seokjin tripped a couple more times, the rocks and the roots were still there and Namjoon was too distracting, but he kept his balance. Namjoon held on his hand tighter whenever he lost his footing and he allowed himself to consider it for a moment before banishing the idea.

The walk wasn’t too long and as the trees thinned out a little, a few large rocks emerged from the ground. They had climbed higher than the level of the house, the forest and the lake stretching under them. On the side the Castle peeked between the trees and the road leading to the city.

Namjoon helped him up the rock while he complained for the sake of it. They sat down to rest and Namjoon offered him the bottle of water he had used before, plenty of water was left inside. Seokjin insisted they shared it, he had already used half of it on him anyway.

“You like being outside so much, you have walked through most of the forest. You go on walks every day. Why don’t you go out with Y/N? Or around the neighborhood?” he asked. Namjoon wasn’t someone who could be contained in a house, he needed to be outside, and the forest looked too small for him.

Namjoon crossed his hands over his bent knee. “Being in the forest is easier. I can’t explain it but it’s familiar territory. Outside the forest, outside the house, that’s different. I know the streets of Los Angeles, I’ve spent more time on them than I would have liked. And now things are different but those streets are the same. I don’t think I’m ready to go back there alone.”

Seokjin’s heart constricted at the reminder of what the three hybrids he held so dearly had been through. He was spoiled, he couldn’t have survived a life in the streets. But if he was with them… If he was with them maybe it would would have been worth it.

It was a dangerous world for lone hybrids, people were eager to take advantage of them and hybrid services were always lurking in large cities like Los Angeles. Going outside alone could be an invitation for harassment from a few sick people who thought they were entitled to hybrids’ lives because humans created them, who thought they were lesser. Seokjin hadn’t been allowed to be alone outside, his owners believed it was indecent and disrespectful for hybrids to walk alone or stay alone.

“Do you want to go outside in the city?” Namjoon asked.

Seokjin hugged his knees. “I wouldn’t know where to go or what to do. I’ve never been out alone.”

Namjoon nodded. “That’s alright. It was nice being out for Spring Cleaning, I saw the city in a different light.”

Seokjin smiled, for him it hadn’t been only the city he had seen in a different light. “I would like to go out one day.”

“I would like that too,” Namjoon said softly.

But Seokjin didn’t think of going alone. He thought of being with Namjoon holding his hand so they wouldn’t lose each other or an excited Jungkook hopping around with Jimin chasing him.

Namjoon’s phone beeped with a message and he pulled it out of his backpack to read it. A smile spread on his face at whatever he was seeing. Seokjin wanted to lean closer and look at what was making him smile but he held himself back. There were only three people it could be from.

“Jungkook is playing her assistant,” Namjoon said, turning the screen so Seokjin could take a look at the photo. Jungkook was looking to the side, probably at someone talking to him, carrying two folders and a few loose papers. Seokjin’s heart softened at the sight, Jungkook looked content there. Excited and a little confused.

Seokjin took the phone in his hands. “I’m sure he insisted on carrying them for her. Doesn’t she have an assistant?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, Will. But I’m not sure he’s that kind of assistant.”

“Maybe she should keep Jungkook on set, he could carry anything she wanted,” he joked. Their bunny could pick up all of them without getting tired, Seokjin had been his victim enough times to know that.

Jungkook had been doing better, his messages were more frequent and he talked more on the phone. He had been doing better but Seokjin was missing him a lot. But he couldn’t be selfish with this, going away had been good for him and if it hurt a little that he needed to be away from them, Seokjin didn’t utter a word. He had heard him sniffling at night, covering his mouth to muffle the sounds. Seokjin didn’t know how to comfort him so he just held him tighter.

Namjoon sighed, taking his phone back and hiding it in the backpack. He sighed. “Jimin is hiding away again. He barely spoke to me before locking himself in the cinema room. I don’t understand what is going on between them. Jungkook had to travel to the other side of the States to get away. I can’t get a word about what happened from either of them. Jungkook says he did something horrible to him and Jimin doesn’t want to say anything about it. And every time Jungkook pulls back from him I can see how much it hurts them both and I can’t do anything about it.”

“They don’t want us to do anything about it but they need us next to them,” Seokjin said, looking ahead at the sun slowly descending in the sky.

Namjoon let the silence stretch before speaking, “I’m grateful you’re with us, that you chose to stay. I don’t like to think about how it would have been without you.”

Seokjin turned his head away. “I didn’t do anything special. I am not that important.”

A hand touched his cheek, leading him gently until he was face to face with Namjoon looking into his hazel, almost golden, eyes. “Listen to me when I say this; you are important to us. You are pack and your place is with us here. I’ll be honest, I was weary at first but you fit right in like you were always meant to be with us. You belong with us and we’ll never let you go or get tired of you. You give so much without even realizing it.” His thumb rubbed small circles on his skin leaving burning trails behind. A heavy cloud had covered everything around him and all he could see was hazel eyes. “All I ask you is to let us take care of you, too.”

And before his doubts could stop him he surged forward. Namjoon caught him in his arms, cradling the oldest’s neck as he hid his face in his neck breathing in his scent. Time was meaningless there.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You were taking a short break. John had delivered your second cup of coffee for the day and a smoothie for Jungkook who disliked the bitter taste of coffee with passion. It was a mostly practical day that didn’t require a lot of moving around. You had been meeting up with people since the crack of dawn and discussing the best ways to cover up the disaster in a way that wouldn’t turn the public against the show or the studios. So far, you had been holding off any reporters from including the overlooked safety measures when publishing the news about the collapsed sets.

After being inside all day, you had decided to take a stroll around the block. Jungkook was walking next to you sipping his smoothie. He was wearing a simple black chocker with a silver charm.

He was telling you about a video he had seen on YouTube when your phone started ringing. Your nickname for Taylor was displayed across the screen with a photo of her pulling out a tray of cookies from the over.

“Hey, Tay,” you said.

“I called at the right time, didn’t I?”

“Just the perfect time, I have around twenty minutes before I have to go back. Work has been kicking my ass.”

Taylor laughed. “I’m sure you’ve been kicking its ass too. And better.”

You had told her around what time you would be taking your break. You hadn’t talked on the phone since coming to Virginia and you had missed her voice.

You stopped at a bench and Jungkook pulled out his phone. You felt a little bad for talking on the phone when it was the two of you but you had really missed Taylor and it wouldn’t take long anyway. She had been busy with Astrid, getting to know her better and helping her adapt to the new environment. When you had visited the hybrid had looked enamored with Taylor, you knew your friend would be amazing at taking care of a hybrid.

The conversation soon turned to you but you didn’t have much to share. Work was the same regardless the disaster but Taylor was more interested in other things.

“It has been almost a year since you and Jacob broke up. Don’t you have your sight on anyone? Any flirts? It isn’t like you lost the one and only,” she said.

Jacob had been far from the one and only. And when she asked, your mind went to dangerous places.

“Just because you found your man doesn’t mean we are all that lucky,” you said. “And how am I supposed to find anyone? I’m too busy.” From the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook turning to look at you with an unreadable expression.

Taylor continued, “Aren’t there any cute boys on set? At work? There has to be someone. Don’t bury yourself in work and forget to live. I’m not saying you need a man to be happy or complete, but don’t you miss going on dates? Getting to know someone like that?”

The answer came to you unbidden but it wasn’t something you were ready to say. “Maybe after the TV show, for now I really have to focus. After that is done and I don’t have to worry about anymore earthquakes, I’ll see where I’ll end up.”

You knew Taylor cared for you and she worried about how deep you threw yourself into work. Maybe there was also a small part that was still uncertain about the way you and Jacob had broken off things and the way you had avoided the topic like the plague for the first months. Like you and Jacob had never happened. But looking at boys and dating had been the last thing on your mind.

Ending the call with Taylor promising to text her when you got off work, you patted the small of Jungkook’s back. It was time to walk back. The smoothie was half-finished, the way it had been before, like he hadn’t taken a sip since sitting down.

You asked him if there was something wrong but he replied that everything was alright. It didn’t look like that was the case. He stayed close to you all day, more clingy than he had been the whole time you had been in Virginia, wary of the men who talked to you.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The blue sky and fluffy clouds reflected on the lake, a huge mirror creating another sky on its surface, a more vibrant but precise copy. No boats cut through the water, it was like there was a part of the sky that had made its home on the ground. Trees extended on every side of the lake, so many of them one next to the other with no end in sight.

The grass tickled Jimin’s palms swaying in the gentle wind. He breathed in the fresh morning.

“One day we’ll go on a boat ride.” Jungkook was sitting next to him, his long bangs falling at the sides of his face. “We’ll see every part of the lake, not just this. We’ll go everywhere.”

Flowers bloomed all around them, white and blue petunias, chrysanthemums and lilies. Jimin wanted to cut the most beautiful one and tuck it behind Jungkook’s ear. He turned to tell him but hands were holding the back of his neck and lips devouring his. He gripped Jungkook’s arms to steady himself from the force of the kiss. The sweet aroma of the flowers filled him up, engulfing every part of his being, the deepest crevices and the smallest of cracks.

Jungkook pushed him back so he was laying on the grass and Jimin let him, too drunk off the flowers and soft lips. Touches on his cheeks and his sides, caresses under his shirt. He was burning.

It didn’t take long for the panic to set in. With weak arms, he pushed Jungkook away. The air wouldn’t reach his lungs. The scent of the flowers turned stale and bitter.

“We can’t,” he tried to say but his voice wasn’t coming out right, sticking in his throat and refusing to flow.

Jungkook pulled back. His eyes were darker than before. “Is this it? Am I too common for his highness? You didn’t have any reservations about the panther hybrid, did you? Are you attracted to power, Jiminie? Or do you open your legs only for him?”

There were sharp blades piercing Jimin’s chest. How did he know? Who had told him? No one was supposed to know.

Two figures were hiding between the trees in the darkness the day couldn’t chase away. Your hands were crossed in front of your chest and Yoongi was standing right behind you.

Jimin took a step back colliding with the fountain at the entrance of the Castle. The house was looming over him, ominous and tall as if it could touch the sky. His clothes were torn, dirt and blood staining them. They were the clothes he had been wearing the day you had found them.

“I’m sorry but you can’t stay here anymore,” you said. You knew what he had done, you knew his dirty secret and he was paying for it again. He would be paying for it his whole life. A pain so powerful he felt like he was dying bloomed in his chest as rivers of tears rolled down his cheeks. His knees were weak. He couldn’t stand.

He searched in the faces of his pack, of the people he loved so much he thought his heart would burst. Nothing but sneers and gazes of pity. Whore, they whispered. Slut. Worthless.

Jimin crumbled to his knees. He was dying. He was sure he was dying. Spasms wrecked his body as he sobbed. He had nowhere to go, he had no one but them. He couldn’t live without them.

And when he thought it was over, that it was the last breath he was taking. He opened his eyes. His chest was heaving, his heart beating like a wild animal scratching at the bars of its cage. He was in their room, the glass wall looking out at the forest. Only the moonlight fought the darkness.

The sheets were restricting him and pushing him down, tangled around his body. Frantic movements born out of desperation took over his body and he stumbled over the edge of the bed, falling hard on the floor with the sheets wrapped around his legs.

And it overflowed.

The sobs and tears. He pulled at his hair and scratched his skin. They couldn’t know. No, they could never know. You would never look at him the same way. He would lose the only home he has ever known.

He wanted to scream. Scream until his lungs were empty and his body stopped shaking. Scream until he didn’t feel worthless and used like an old toy forgotten in a corner of the attic.

There were arms around him, prying his hands away from his hair and skin. He tried to pull away but they only held tighter until he gave in and sunk into their warmth. Blood was rushing to his ears and he only made out his name falling from the other person’s lips. He rocked in his arms, cursing himself and the world. Weak. He was so weak.

Fucking pathetic.

He gripped the hands holding him. He focused on the voice speaking although he couldn’t understand what it was saying. He choked on the bile in his throat, his body shaking with his sobs.

“Jiminie, breath. Just breath,” the voice said and Jimin tried to listen to it. He did. But it felt like he hadn’t been able to breath for a while. “Just like this. Breath with me. That’s right, like this. Breath. You’re doing so well, Minie.”

Spent, Jimin fell on the chest behind him, shaky breaths leaving his lips. One of the hands rubbed his stomach over his nightshirt.

“There. You’re alright. You’re alright.”

Jimin swallowed with difficulty down his scratchy throat. “Joonie?”

“I’m here. I’m here, Minie,” the other said. Jimin didn’t have the energy to look at him, laying his head on the older’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

His breathing stuttered. Another tear escaping from his eyes, he thought he’d run out of them. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” Namjoon’s voice was unsteady and it hurt Jimin knowing he had been the cause of it. “You’re alright. I’m always here for you but I can’t protect you from your head.”

Jimin’s tail wrapped around one of Namjoon’s arms as Jimin sniffled. “I don’t want to be alone. Please, please don’t let me go. Don’t make me leave.”

“Never. I’ll never leave you. We’ll never leave you. I’d do anything in this world to keep you safe.” Namjoon caressed his arm, moving upwards and pressing his fingers against Jimin’s left scent gland. Jimin’s whole body trembled, shivers overtaking him. Namjoon rubbed his nose against the other side of his neck, leaving kisses behind. Purring, Jimin arched his neck.

“I love you,” Jimin whispered, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Namjoon kissed over his scent gland and Jimin felt it everywhere. “I love you, Minie. So much.”

#bts #bts hybrid au #btscreatorscorner #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts fanfic #jikook #sope #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff

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heart-strong · 4 years ago

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An Ode To Science Beaker PJ’s- Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

gif credit to @0420-1102

Summary: gn!reader takes care of Spencer after coming home from being held captive by Tobias Hankel (season 2 episode 14 and 15). Reader and Spencer have been dating for two years.

A/N: YALL I think my fics are just going to be long because I love writing so much and I haven’t had writing inspiration in so long. Thank you for all the kind words about I Have a Fever, if you haven’t checked out my first Spencer/ Criminal Minds fic yet please do I’m so proud of it but heres this new one!

Also I mention this in my About me section but I’ll mention it here, I think Penelope and I are similar in that we call everyone “darling” just as a term of endearment, so penny calls reader darling that it.

This is also part one of a two-part set. I wanted to add a little more comfort but I loved the natural end to this without it. It is not written yet so I don’t know when it will be posted but I will link it here. when it is posted.

There is going to be smut in part two (An Ode to Golden Ratio PJs) and while there are still gender natural pronouns reader is going to have female anatomy. I’ve never written smut before and female anatomy is what I know from personal experience.

WC: 2.8k

TW: Regular cm stuff and topics covered in season 2 episode 14 and 15, (DID, dilaudid, self harm, abduction), talk and description of self harm but no relapse, any others let me know I’ll add it no question.

Again pt. 2 here

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Spencer Reid and you had been dating since the two of you were set up on a sorta blind date by your mutual best friend Penelope Garcia. While you couldn’t possibly know everything that Spencer went through you had some idea from being Penny’s friend for years. Two years strong with Spencer and you felt like you were starting to know him better than his team.

It was Super Bowl Sunday and you were out with the team. The game was over and Spencer, Anderson, yourself, and a few other FBI agents you had just met that night were sharing a table. You are draped on Spencer’s shoulder watching him getting quizzed by Anderson when JJ walks by, she ruffles his hair and takes a phone call outside. You fix the curls out of Spencer’s eyes and kiss his cheek when he answers the question just in the nick of time.

And then there’s a case. The team was called to Georgia and everything was going well, or as well as a murder investigation can go when one night Spencer missed his usual phone call with you. He would check-in, at least a minute, letting you know he was okay. So you weren’t surprised when Penelope knocked on your door.

“Hi, darling. Um, I am going to go to Georgia and I wanted to tell you because, well because you and Spence. Somethings wrong. You may want to sit down.”

“What happened to him?” you motion Penelope into your apartment and to your couch.

“Well, uh, boy wonder and JJ were sent to a witness’s house to question him. But the witness well he was the unsub.”

“What?” you look at your best friend. You didn’t want to believe what you were thinking.

“Tobias Hankel, uh the uh unsub took Spencer. I am going because he is highly skilled with computers. I promise you, I will bring him back to you.”

“Okay, so what do we know? Do we know if he’s okay?”

“The team has a video feed on him. They can’t track him, so I’m going to go. That’s my specialty darling, I’ll get him back to you. The image we have of him is okay right now. He’s tied to a chair and clearly wounded but he is okay. The unsub has multiple personalities and one of his personalities is feeding him and giving him water.”

“Okay sounds good. You leaving now then?”

“Right now. I knew you needed to know before I left though. I love you darling stay strong for your boy wonder.” Penelope popped up off the couch as you rose and gave you a tight squeeze before floating out the door.

“Yeah okay. Love you too.” you followed and closed yourself out of the world.

It was another three days. Three days of not hearing from Spencer, but at least you knew why. He was being held captive. Three days of knowing your boyfriend was in pain and danger, a murderer holding him and streaming his whereabouts to his friends. No word from Spencer. No word from Penny. No word from no one.

Until you woke up to Derek Morgan calling you at 2:30 in the morning.

“Hello? Derek is everything okay?”

“(y/n),” it was Spencer. His voice was rough and scratchy and maybe a couple of octaves lower.

“Holy shit Spencer. You’re okay.”

“I’m safe. And I’m going to be with you as soon as possible baby. I just have to go to the hospital first.”

“Spencer Walter Reid come home to me as soon as humanly possible. I just need you.”

“We’re headed to the hospital now. It’s just bruising and a gash on my head.”

You heard the team behind him and just needed him. Safe in your arms, safe out of the field.

“Spence just come to my apartment when you get home and I can take care of you.” you hear Morgan wolf whistle from your words. “I’m glad he can make jokes right now, that helps me know you are fine.”

It was so early you tried to go back to sleep. But you couldn’t, finally getting out of your bed at five and making coffee. After trying to eat something you couldn’t stay still anymore you decided to do some chores. You were folding laundry and found a pajama set Spencer had left at your apartment, it was soft flannel and covered in little beakers. You noted the company on the tag and a hole in the knee showed how loved they were. You went to the store and got his favorite peppermint tea and snacks, making sure to make it feel somewhat homely for him, and finally returned home where you sat on your couch sewing up the knee waiting for him to come home to you.

It’s past 8 pm, you have the pajamas folded beside you and a movie playing on your tv when you hear movement on the other side of your door. The sound of a key and the doorknob moving pulls for your attention when Spencer walks into your apartment.

“Charming Boy, what are you doing?” you grab his bags since he was clearly in pain. “Where’s Derek?”

“He dropped me off?”

You immediately noticed that Spencer had downplayed his injuries. A black eye was forming on his sharp cheekbone and you looked to his hairline where there was medical tape assuming that was the gash he had mentioned on the phone and his wrists were red from the restraints Penelope mentioned. But he hadn’t let go of his side since he entered your apartment and it just elevated your terror when he yelped from you taking his bag. What in the world happened to him. “Spencer why didn’t you tell me?” you lowered the bags to the ground and took his free hand and cheek in your hand, trying to get him to look at you.

“I was taken and beaten up for days but I’m good. I’m with you.” he kissed you but it didn’t feel like the boy that left you a week ago.

You pulled back from the kiss and looked at him. His eyes were distant and avoided yours looking to his messenger bag on the floor. You kiss him on the nose and he plays along crinkling his nose but his eyes don’t move. He is still dazed and out of it when you pick up his bag and drag him to your room.

Spencer didn’t like therapy, after the L.D.S.K about a year ago you asked him if he wanted to talk to someone outside of the FBI. “ I know all the tricks, I can’t learn anything new from them.” and while you knew it was an unhealthy view you were not going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Hey, Charming can you look at me?”

You had brought him to the side of the bed he would sleep on when he stayed the night and he was staring out the window with his messenger bag on his lap and was holding on to it like it was the only connection to the world. He looks up at you standing in front of him. But his gaze quickly moved to the window and moon and sky again. “I’ll be right back.”

You grab his pajama set from the couch, a couple of glasses of water and a first aid kit then return to him, he hadn’t moved. After setting the items on the bed and the water on your bedside table you sit by him. You brush away stray hairs off his forehead and place a kiss on his hair. He smells like chemicals and raw fish.

The Spencer scent of his shampoo and matching body wash that reminded you of Christmas and the spilled coffee lingering on his sweaters was overpowered. Gone. You could spend days wrapped up the cardigans he left behind but right now he was nowhere near that version, in a shirt that was clearly Derek’s as it fell off his collar bones.

“Hey Spence, do you want to take a shower?

“Do you want me to?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just, you’ve been held by an unsub for three days,”

“Two days, 13 hours.”

“Okay, so about three days. Charming wouldn’t it make you feel better?”

“I can if you want me to.”

The short answers made you very uncomfortable. The words and avoidance of a shower were very non- Spencer, you wanted his rambling back. You wanted the boy that left you a week ago, but he wasn’t coming back, so you just wanted him to feel a little bit better. Safe.

“Spencer, can you tell me where your head is at right now?”

“My head is in the chair I was strapped to for 61 hours.”

“Can I ask you to elaborate on that Spencer?” you didn’t want to push him but no one had told you what happened to him during those days and you wanted to know everything after he showed up worse for wear to you. “Did they touch the spots that are off-limits Spence?”

Spencer Reid was the most beautiful, handsome, and attractive person you had ever met. After the one time you hung out with the team, it was a no-brainer for Penelope that she needed to set the two of you up. And now years of knowing him and getting to know him differently than his team the two of you were comfortable together. And you quickly learned things before the team. You had planned to go with Spencer to see his mom when he was given vacation time, but you weren’t given time off; you left your retail job a month later to pursue your dreams. And like his mom before the Fisher King case, the team didn’t know about his ‘off-limits spots’ and this spaced-out man sitting before you. You knew they definitely didn’t know about his off-limits spots because you learned about them when you were making out one night and untucked his shirt. His ribs, his stomach, and wrist were the hardest for him when unsubs taunted him. The restraints, the groping, the beatings. They were also the places he put all his frustration out when his anxieties were out of control. But it had been two years.

“Spencer, did you hear me?”

“Um well he, Tobias took his belt around my arm, a make-shift tourniquet, and drugged me. He hit me in the head.” he gestured to his forehead. “And when they found me, the team, one of his personalities had a knife to my wrists.”

“Oh, Charming. Can I see?” he nods and you take his hand and unbutton the cuff of his sleeve, and there it is. A clear bandage was tight to the skin covering a dozen of cuts next to light scars from Spencer’s own hand. You couldn’t help but think two years down the drain even though the marks weren’t from Spencer, they sure looked like it. “Okay, bathroom Charming boy.”

The two of you walked to the bathroom and while Spencer sat on the closed toilet lid you ran the bath. Going back to your room you grabbed the first aid kit and his pajamas.

“Do you need anything, want anything to eat or drink?”

“Do you have peppermint tea?”

“I got some for your visit, I can make you some while you relax. Anything else?”

“My shampoo and conditioner are in my go-bag. Not that I don’t like the scent of your stuff I just want mine.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, honey. Okay let me get those for you and then I can take your bandage off and we can clean it up.”

As you walk back into the bedroom Spencer yells “Actually it is better to cover wounds to help them heal properly.”

“I know Charming but I want to clean it and switch it to a new bandage. Better padding you know you were in a hospital and a plane with that one. Whoa,” Spencer was in the tub already and you were shocked to see him naked. A big bruise was wrapping around his rib cage. You had never seen your boyfriend in less than a button-up with the top three or four buttons undone. “Sorry, um I’ll go make something to eat and boil water.” you go to close the door.

“(y/n), wait.” his eyes were finally starting to come back in focus, “ Weren’t you going to help with this,” he places his arm on the lip of the tub.

“Sweetie, you’re, you are,” you are trying to look at his face and not the wounds or his collar bones or his chest or his below the water.

“Oh,” and just like that, his eyes unfocused.

“No Charming, it’s just, we’ve never been shirtless in front of each other.” you go to sit by the tub on the floor of your bathroom, grabbing his hand still limp on the lip of the tub. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes, I’m okay, just can you not look at me like I’m different.” he looks at the arm and your hand holding it. “Just because my arm looks like this again.”

“Spencer, I didn’t look at you differently when you told me originally, I’m not going to look at you differently now. One sec,” you scoot on the tile and grab the first aid kit off the floor in the doorway where you dropped it. “Are you okay if I clean it and change the bandage?”

“Um, yeah, yeah you can, thank you.”

You grab his hand and put the kit in your lap. Grabbing an alcohol pad and running on the edge, and slowly but surely you get the bandage off his arm. You stand and get a washcloth off the shelf above the toilet and wet it with cool water.

By the time you finish bandaging his arm again the water Spencer was sitting in had gone cold and he is shivering.

“Can you make tea now and, um,” he looks down at his arm covered in new beige badges. Boring, but no one could see it anymore.

“Yes of course I can, um, I left a pair of pj’s on the bed you left them here.”

“Thank you.” he looked so small and scared in the tub.

You left thinking he was just bashful because he was in the tub and went and started a teapot. As you’re heating up a pot of water for mac and cheese you hear him padding into the kitchen.

“Do you feel a little better?”

“Definitely.” he sat at your kitchen table and you walked over to him. “Thank you for fixing my pajamas (y/n), I’m glad you had them. I thought I lost them, left them in a hotel on a case.”

“Yeah they were here, I can fix other clothes if you want.” you card your hands through his damp hair and twist his front fringe around your fingers.

“I would like that, thank you.” he closes his eyes as you comb through his hair and hold the back of his head. “Um, can we just have peanut butter and jelly, I just want to snuggle with you and I can’t wait for the water to boil.”

“That sounds perfect, do you still want tea?”

“Yes please.”

You kiss the top of his head, his hair finally smelling like Spencer. Your home. And as you let go you don’t feel that sinking feeling you usually do when walking away from Spencer. He joins you at the counter and pulls out two knives. You grab the bread slices and the two of you make sandwiches. When the kettle shouts you grab two cups and tea bags from the box and pour out water. Spencer grabs the plate with the sandwiches and follows you to your bedroom.

Once there you set the cups down and grab your phone and turn on some quiet music. When you turn around Spencer is already under the blankets and honest to god nibbling on his sandwich. You go to your closet to get your own pajama set, granted not as cute as your boyfriends, and join him.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asks.

“I am so happy that you are here. Can I kiss your silly face?”

“Please do.”

You launch at him. Your flannel-clad legs wrap around Spencer’s hips. His hands go to your hair as his tongue starts to brush your lower lip and you open your mouth to accept his tongue. Pulling away from his mouth, his beautiful, talented, and oh so addictive mouth, you look to him as long lashes flutter open his big brown eyes you’re hit by a train.

“Move in with me?”

———

Update (May 2, 2021)

Part two here it is nsfw

#criminal minds #ssa derek morgan #ssa emily prentiss #ssa hotchner #ssa jennifer jareau #ssa rossi #ssa dr spencer reid #mental health #spencer reid fic #gn!reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds fic #fanfiction #spencer fanfic #my work

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heyitsani · 4 years ago

Text

I Keep My Eyes Wide Open All the Time Chapter 8

Word Count: 9234

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character death, Mentions of past rape/non-con (past)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne/Jon Kent

Notes: I am completely dissatisfied with this chapter but it is what it is. Big time jump at the last part, but the descriptions make it pretty evident.

Next chapter is back to present time.

If you have not read When You Move I Move, this one won’t really make much sense. So you can read that here: WYMIM

You can also read this chapter on AO3 here

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Standing before the doors that would lead him and Jon to the room where he could hear his family members talking as they waited for dinner to be served, Damian glanced at the man at his side. The man he was about to announce as one he intended to marry. All of them probably knew it was coming, but he still found himself a bit nervous. Would his grandfather approve? Would his aunt give him that smile of understanding and acceptance? He knew his father would have approved, he had been the one who had told him to do it without delay, but what of the others?

“We can wait,” Jon offered, his smile not faltering in the least. “It can remain between the two of us for the time being. Until you feel more settled, maybe?”

Damian shook his head and looked back to the door. “No. We are to be married and I refuse to hide away that fact like I am ashamed to love you.” He felt Jon’s hand squeeze his, and the feeling of the cool metal of the ring on his finger grounded him. To the point where he pushed forward and allowed the doors to swing open so they could enter the dining hall.

“Grandson,” his grandfather greeted from where he stood with Selina at his side, Ser Roy standing with him. Damian knew they were probably discussing something related the knights, as Damian had asked the former king to be the one to oversee them since he was still adjusting.

“Grandfather, Selina,” Damian replied before looking to Ser Roy. “Ser Roy, will you be joining us tonight?” The Knight looked surprised at the question and Damian wondered why silently since the man had joined them plenty of times when his father had been king.

“I…” The man looked over to his grandfather before he looked back to Damian. “I would like that, Your Majesty,” he said, giving a bow. There was a smile on his face that spoke more than the words he said and Damian gave him a nod before he glanced around for his aunt.

When he didn’t see her anywhere, he looked back to his grandfather. “Where is Aunt Cass? I have something I wish to tell you all.” As if she had heard him asking for her, his aunt came gliding into the room with her friend Stephanie right behind her. The two women were smiling, laughing at something one of them had said, as they made their way over.

“Nephew! Prince Jon,” his aunt greeted them before turning to greet her father, step-mother, and Ser Roy. Damian watched Stephanie give him a bow before she relayed a greeting of her own.

“Please,” Damian waved a hand at Stephanie’s bow. “Do not feel you need to do that. You are family just as much as the others at this point.” The blonde looked surprised but gave a nod of understanding. “Now that we have all gathered, I would like to tell you all some good news.” Glancing over at Jon’s who gave his hand another squeeze, Damian smiled. “I have asked Prince Jon to marry me and he has agreed.” He turned to look back at his family in various states of shock.

He was not surprised that Selina was the first to offer her congratulations. He accepted the warm hug and thanked her when she spoke a soft congratulations into his ear. His aunt and Stephanie followed closely, giving him and Jon each a hug before switching and hugging the other. When Ser Roy also stepped forward to hug him, Damian was a little caught off guard.

“Jason would be so proud of you,” the knight murmured into his ear before releasing Damian and shaking Jon’s hand. “Congratulations to you both. Richard said he hoped this would be the end result of your friendship back when you were just boys. He spent weeks talking about how to ask the Council to lift the marriage law so it might happen.”

Damian blinked at the man for a moment before looking over to find Jon grinning at the knight. Damian had told Jon what his father had said on his deathbed, how he had wanted Damian to ask him sooner rather than later, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the man approved. But perhaps the fact that he had approved long before Jon himself had figured out how he felt was the difference.

“Grandson,” his grandfather’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his green eyes away from his intended to the man who stood just a few inches taller than him. The man placed both of his hands-on Damian’s shoulders and looked him right in the eye. “It is no secret that I am a traditionalist. But with everything that has happened due to that fact, I am quite pleased to hear this news.” The man looked over to Jon and sent him a rare smile. “Your father has been a dear friend of mine for many years and the opportunity to join our families is a welcome one.”

And just like that, the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach vanished. He had been so concerned about the older man’s approval and now that he had it, relief was all he felt. His father had given his approval and Ser Jason had made it clear he supported Damian in everything he did so he didn’t wonder how the Slayer would have reacted. But his grandfather? The former king who was known for being rigid in his beliefs and strict with his rules? He couldn’t have guessed it would be so easy to have the approval.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Jon said formally, giving a small bow. His grandfather huffed out a laugh before pulling both of them in for a brief hug.

“You are to be family, please call me Bruce,” the man offered, and Damian smiled as Jon’s face brightened at the offer. It was not an honor many were afforded, and the other prince was well aware of that fact. “I do believe we should make a toast. Alfred, the best wine in the cellar please?” The personal manservant gave a nod and hurried off in the direction of where they kept the wine. “We shall have to have the ceremony as soon as possible. I will send word to King Kon and Timothy immediately. We shall plan a wedding to rival all weddings.” He released the two men before turning to speak with Selina about what they would need to get things planned.

“All those nerves for no reason at all, hmm my love?” Damian looked over at Jon and gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging. “The fates would not have been so cruel to you. They have been heavy handed as it is. You have earned some happiness. I just hope that is me.”

“Always, Beloved.”

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Adjusting the sleeve of his shirt, Damian made his way down the hallway toward his study with the intent of going over some of the most recent requests from the citizens. He had held the Petitioning the day before and the requests he hadn’t been certain about had been recorded and the Council had come to decisions later that day. He had just wanted to comb through them one last time before he sent the messengers.

“Nephew,” his uncle’s voice caught his attention, stopping him before he entered the study. Turning to look at the man who was coming up behind him, Damian waited. The man had arrived the day before with the King of Metropolis and the Jon’s father for the wedding festivities, but Damian had yet had a moment to really speak with the older man. “I wondered if we might take a walk to the crypt together?”

That was not something he had expected the man to say, but it didn’t fill him with the dread he thought it would. He had gone to see the statue of both of his fathers multiple times since their deaths and though it still caused his heart to ache, he found the peace in the crypt welcoming. He had yet to go there with anyone else though. Jon had told him that those moments were private in his country, so he didn’t feel right even when Damian made it clear he would be fine with it.

“I would like that, yes,” he agreed with a nod. He knew he would have time later to look over the orders. The urgent ones had been handled already anyway. Continuing on the path toward the exit of the castle, Damian kept in step with his uncle. He remained silent, nodding at staff members as they saw them and allowing his uncle to greet a few of them by name as they made their way out. “Have you been back since your arrival yesterday?” The final statue had not been finished before his uncle had left after the Feast, so he was curious if he had gotten the opportunity to see the finished design.

“I have not, but Father mentioned how well it turned out in their likeness.” Damian simply nodded in agreement. It was an almost perfect replica of his memory of the two men. And since it was in the royal crypt, there did not need to be a lie in who they were to each other. “How have you been adjusting, Damian? There has been much change in such a short amount of time. I was almost surprised to receive the letter about the wedding.”

Looking at his uncle, Damian stopped walking and tilted his head slightly in consideration. “Surprised? But you knew how I felt about Jon. You encouraged it,” he reminded the man, who laughed and shook his head. That only served to confuse Damian more. “I am missing something, aren’t I?”

“Damian, my nephew, you are a great many things but spontaneous is rarely one of them.” Frowning, Damian considered that. “I am not meaning for you to take offense to it. I am simply saying that rarely do you just do something because you want to do it. There is usually much calculation in your actions. Your mother’s influence, I believe.”

And yes, he supposed that made sense. His father loved to just jump right into the thick of things and his mother wanted to know all the variables. He had always felt he fell somewhere in the middle, but perhaps he was closer to his mother. But on this particular decision, he knew exactly why he had acted much like his father would have.

“Father told me, the night he died, to ask Jon to marry me as soon as I could.”

His uncle looked unsurprised. And Damian didn’t feel like it required more of an explanation than that. So he turned and continued making his way to the crypt with his uncle beside him. “And the ring? I suppose Richard told you where he had kept it and what it meant.”

Damian nodded and gestured for the older man to enter the crypt before him. “It is an honor to see that ring on Jon’s finger knowing it once rested on Ser Jason’s,” he admitted, not looking at his uncle when the man stopped and glanced his way. Instead, he turned his eyes onto the statue they had come to see.

The sculptor had turned a crude drawing of Damian’s into a masterpiece. With his father standing, head bowed, crown on head. The lines of his robes looked as though they would flutter in the wind, they were so delicately done. And the soft smile on his face, eyes closed, was just as he would always remember it. And the figure of Ser Jason with his armour on, head tilted as if whispering in his lover’s ear, spoke of strength and love at the same time. The stone cut of the Slayer’s hair was just a wind tousled as it always was when he was on the fields training the soldiers.

“It is perfect,” his uncle whispered. Swallowing against his now tight throat, Damian nodded. They looked so alive and filled with so much love for each other, Damian could almost pretend they were real. “Father said it was your design?”

“I drew them just how I remembered them. The sculptor is the true artist here.” Reaching out a hand, Damian touched his father’s hand that hung at his side. He had taken to touching both of their hands before he sent his prayers off. “They could not be together in life. But their love can forever be remembered by those of us who remain and those who we leave behind.” Shifting to touch Ser Jason’s hand, Damian bowed his head and said his silent prayers of peace for both their souls. Even though he knew there was no peace to be had thanks to his mother.

He felt his uncle come up beside him as he recited the silent prayer but made no move to acknowledge him. “Though you might not believe it, Nephew, there is very little of your mother in you,” the man said as Damian lifted his head and looked up at the two men captured in stone. “I know there is a war inside of you. I know you struggle with the possibility that your mother influenced you more than your father was willing to admit, but you should know this,” the man paused, and Damian looked over at him, “when faced with a decision you have yet to choose a path that she would have wanted you to.”

Dropping his uncle’s gaze, Damian looked back to the statue and considered the older man’s words. He thought over every decision he had made since his mother had been put to death. From when he was so scared the people of the kingdom thought he was just like her to when they accepted him as their king. He thought about the decision to tell Jon he loved him, the decision to ask him to marry him. His mother would have never approved of any of those choices. Especially Jon. She had fought so hard to separate the two of them.

Yet he was set to marry the man in a few days’ time, and he had no regrets.

“She will always be a shadow on my mind though,” Damian admitted, looking back to his uncle. “It is a constant struggle to consciously not follow the path she spent thirteen years pushing me down.”

“Perhaps,” his uncle shrugged. “But perhaps you’ll find one day she is no longer a whisper in the back of your mind. Perhaps one day you’ll only hear your own voice.” He considered the thought before sighing and glancing back toward the exit of the crypt. “I know you have duties to attend to, Nephew. I would like some time alone with my brother, so do not feel you need to remain on my account.”

Thinking of the papers waiting for him on his desk, he smiled at his uncle. “Thank you for the discussion, Uncle. I will see you at dinner.” The man gave a nod before turning back to the statue and Damian turned to leave. When he glanced back just before he exited the crypt, he saw the man with his head bowed, pressed to the stone hand of the former king, shoulders shaking.

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Growing up, he remembered hearing so many say that they were nervous at their handfasting. So many people told him stories of how they had barely known the one they were to marry and that the ceremony was so permanent that it caused nerves to strike.

Damian found himself waiting at the start of the walkway that would lead him and Jon through the woods to a small glade where their closest friends and family were waiting to bear witness to their pledge to one another. But he as he stood there, he noticed the nerves everyone had spoken of were absent. All he felt was impatient.

Perhaps it was the years of knowing Jon. Perhaps it was knowing he was absolutely the man he wanted to spend his life with.

More than that, he just felt at peace. Like the one thing his father had wanted of him, he was fulfilling.

“Dami.” He turned at the sound of his name, smiling at the sight of Jon walking toward him in the familiar colors of red and blue from his homeland. And though they were not a combination that Damian himself would have picked, he enjoyed the way Jon’s pale skin almost glowed in contrast as the moonlight shone down on them. His eyes fell on the jewel holding his cloaks together, where there should have been gold and black he found red and black. And a glimmer of blue.

The same colors Damian had chosen to wear in honor of both of his fathers.

Reaching out to touch the jewel when Jon was within his reach, Damian looked up at the sparkling blue eyes of his soon to be husband. The man simply smile the all too familiar, mischievous smile Damian knew all too well and offered no explanation.

“Everyone is waiting for us in the glade.” Jon gave him a nod and took the offered hand from Damian, so they could walk to the ceremony together. Neither man spoke, as was Gotham tradition for this type of ceremony, as they made the trek further into the woods. And even though he could see the glade up ahead, he noticed that the forest remained quiet. Almost as if it were watching with bated breath.

He could relate.

As they stepped into the glade with Jon at his side, Damian felt his spine straighten a bit more in response to being around the others. And though he knew he didn’t need to impress these witnesses, he still felt he had to maintain his image. So he remained focused on the Archbishop at the end of the walk, waiting for them.

He gave a small nod to his uncle, who he had chosen to stand witness for him, which the man returned it with a bright smile. A glance over at King Kon revealed him doing the same for his brother and Damian felt the expectations melt away as they came to a stop just past the two men, in front of the Archbishop who held his Law of Old. Damian immediately noticed the chord he and Jon had braided together the night before in front of the fireplace in Damian’s room draped over the open book.

There had been laughter and tears, hushed words of missing those who could not be there to witness this moment, as they weaved the pieces together. It had been private and special, something he would never forget.

As the Archbishop began the traditional greeting, Damian glanced over at Jon and found the man smiling as he watched the man before them read his script. And once again he found himself floored and so thankful that this was his future. That though his mother had stolen so much from him, she could not manage to steal this.

“King Damian of Gotham and Prince Jonathan of Metropolis, please face one another and take the other’s right hand,” the Archbishop’s words pulled Damian away from his thoughts and he turned to follow the command. Smiling at Jon, he held his right hand out with the palm facing up. Without hesitation, Jon placed his own right hand into Damian’s, and they allowed their fingers to curl around the other’s wrist. “Your Majesty, please say the oath.”

Taking a deep breath, Damian looked into Jon’s eyes and tightened his grip. “Jonathan of House Kent, I take you as you are, loving who you are now and who you are yet to become. I promise from this day forward to be grateful for our love and our life. To be generous with my time, my energy, and my affection. To be patient with you and myself. To fill our life with adventure and our home with laughter. To encourage you to grow as an individual, and inspire you to do so. To love you completely,” he spoke confidently, taking in the smile growing wider on Jon’s lips as he recited the vow. “These things I pledge before you. And before our loved ones and those who no longer bless this land with their presence.”

Swallowing hard against the tears building in his eyes as he watched a tear slip from Jon’s, Damian returned Jon’s smile as the other man recited the same script. He tried to ignore the swelling of his heart, the promise of their future in the words, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus otherwise.

“King Damian, do you take Prince Jonathan to be your husband?”

“I do,” he confirmed without looking away from Jon.

“And Prince Jonathan, do you take King Damian to be your husband?”

“I do,” the man whispered, causing Damian’s smile to grow even more than it already had. Despite the ceremony not being finished, he felt as though he couldn’t be more content. Could he die from happiness? It almost felt as though he might.

“The honored have requested to have their witnesses to bind their hands while the blessing is said,” the Archbishop said, gesturing for his uncle and Jon’s brother to move to stand in front of them with the chord in hand. Glancing over at them, Damian watched the men take one end each and move forward to wrap the chord around his and Jon’s joined hands. “This is the hand of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that is holding yours on your handfasting day. As you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever. These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together you build your future. These hands will passionately love you and cherish you through the years and with the slightest touch, comfort you like no other,” the man spoke, but Damian turned his attention back to his almost husband.

“These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind. These are the hands that will, countless times, wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow and tears of joy. These are the hands that will help you hold your family as one. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it.” He looked down as he felt the tightening of the knot, noticing the two men had joined the chord and were stepping back. He looked from the knot to his uncle and noticed the man’s blue eyes were glimmering with unshed tears as he watched them. “And lastly, these are the hands that, even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken tenderness with just a touch.”

The blessing was finished and quiet filled the glade as Damian looked away from his uncle, back to Jon. And he wasn’t surprised to find Jon watching him. They both knew what was coming. And though they had kissed plenty of times in the recent weeks, there was something delicate and precious about this moment.

“Your Majesties, under the gaze of the Powers That Be and the witnesses you have called here tonight, I pronounce you bound by love. May you share your first of many kisses in this moment,” the older man said, encouraging the two men to seal the moment.

And though Damian wanted to desperately kiss Jon, he called upon all his self-control to slowly lean in and press his mouth to Jon’s. And though his husband’s lips were entirely too distracting, he could still hear the responding cheers and clapping from those watching the moment unfold. He could also feel Jon’s laughter against his mouth. Pulling away from Jon, Damian smiled at the man before looking out toward their family and closes friends.

And though he knew two especially important faces were missing, he could almost feel their presence there with them.

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

The various conversations of the people gathered in the Great Hall washed over him as he made his way through the room, not really pausing much outside of returning a greeting or two. He knew there would be plenty of time to converse with the guests over the course of the evening, so he stayed true to the path that would take him to his husband’s side.

“Your Majesty,” King Kon greeted with a smirk and a nod of his head. To which Damian rolled his eyes as he stopped to stand beside his husband, immediately allowing his hand to find Jon’s.

“We are family now, are we not? No sense in such formalities in a setting like this.”

He watched the other man consider him closely before nodding, looking almost pleased with the response. “The sentiment is returned then, Damian.” And Damian simply raised his glass of wine to toast the older man before taking a sip and glancing at his husband.

“Have you eaten yet? I thought I might go see what the staff prepared under the scrutiny of Grandfather.” Jon shook his head with a laugh and Damian smiled, ignoring the chuckle that came from Kon at the former king’s expense. “Join me?”

“Yes, I am famished but everyone has been so distracting,” Jon admitted, walking beside Damian as they made their way around the various groups of people. “Every time I went to grab a bite, someone else stepped into my path.”

“And you wouldn’t want to be rude by telling them that you would speak with them later.”

Jon looked at him with a bit of a gleam in his eye that Damian wasn’t sure how to describe. “I would never,” the man teased. “But no, I could not in this instance. If I am to live among these faces for the remainder of our days, I should not want to offend them so early in the marriage.” Damian hummed and nodded to the head chef who stood near the table, taking stock of all the items laid out on the table.

“Your Majesties,” the chef greeted with a wide smile and a bow. “I have prepared a few of the items you requested, My King. I am not certain of how close to Metropolis quality they are, but I did have his former Majesty there to taste a few of the items. He gave his approval.”

Damian nodded and gave her a warm thank you before turning to speak to Jon. He found the man already looking at him, a bit of a surprised look on his face. “Beloved?”

“You requested some food from home?”

“Well,” he shrugged, feeling a little awkward, “I wanted to be sure this was about you just as much as it was about me. The party itself is for the citizens who wish to celebrate with their ruler, but why should it just be our cuisine they experience? You are just as much their ruler now, even if we have yet to officially crown you.”

He shifted a bit when Jon continued to stare at him as he spoke. He didn’t think what he had done was that big of a deal, but the way Jon was looking at him made it seem like it must be. A good one, he hoped.

“Some more wine, Your Majesties?” A server asked, unaware of the moment between the two men. He held a plate with a jug to refill glasses and Damian broke Jon’s gaze to glance down at his mostly empty glass.

“Please,” he responded, holding his glass out for the server to fill. “You do not have a glass, Beloved?” He questioned, noticing Jon’s empty hands.

“I shall return immediately!” The server hurried off before either could say anything, but Jon seemed to have barely noticed.

Placing his free hand on Jon’s cheek, Damian searched his eyes. He wasn’t certain what it was he was looking for, but something. Perhaps a hint at to what was going on in the other man’s mind at the moment. The slightly stunned look still covered his features, but there was something else. Something more. And though it looked familiar, he couldn’t quite place the emotion.

But the need to dissect it was eliminated when Jon pushed forward and pressed their mouths together, much to the delight of the people standing near them. Damian could hear the cheering and laughing from the people surrounding them, but he ignored it in favor of enjoying his husband for a moment. He knew this was a change for the kingdom. His mother and father had not been in love or even liked one another. So seeing their King being affectionate was probably a bit of a surprise. But a good one, from the sounds of it.

“Beloved?” Damian questioned when Jon pulled back enough to allow them to breathe. He blinked his eyes open and found Jon looking at him with that look. The one that made his heart quicken and his stomach swoop.

“Thank you for being you,” Jon said quietly, as though he wanted that to remain between them. It wouldn’t since there were far too many people within hearing distance, but Damian chose to ignore that. “You never fail to surprise me with your thoughtfulness.” And Damian’s confusion must have shown on his face because Jon was laughing and pulling further away, gesturing at the table of food. And Damian understood.

He hadn’t thought much of it when he made the suggestion to the chef, but he was glad that it worked in his favor. And he didn’t really think it was a very big gesture worthy of this kind of reaction, but he wasn’t going to fight Jon on it. Especially when the man kissed him like that without giving the people around them a second thought.

“Here you are, Your Majesty,” the server came rushing over with a wine glass for Jon, giving a bow as Jon took the glass from the tray with a thank you. “Can I do anything else for either of you?”

Damian chuckled at the man and shook his head. “No, I do believe we are just fine. Thank you.” The server bowed again and moved away, and Damian just smiled. “Shall we eat? There is something I wish to show you once we have made a few rounds in the room.” Jon looked at him curiously, but nodded and turned toward the tables of food to direct a staff member which items he wanted on his plate. Damian followed suite and led his husband over to their designated table where his grandfather and wife were currently sitting at one end and his Aunt Cass at the other.

They spent the following hours talking with the citizens who paused to pass along their congratulations, Damian making sure to make personal addresses to the ones he remembered from either private audiences or from previous gatherings. He watched Jon question each person as if he would sear them all into his memory, wanting to know each and every person who lived within their borders.

It warmed Damian more than he wanted to admit. And selfishly, he was thankful that Jon was to be a ruler in Gotham instead of Metropolis. They were two very different people, but Jon brought something to the kingdom that Damian had never been able to quite get the hang of. He was humble. And while Damian knew he was not prideful in the way his mother had been, he did still struggle with the idea that he was still better than certain others. He would probably always struggle with that.

But Jon balanced that out with his humility and Damian was thankful.

Pushing to his feet once there was a break in the never-ending line of well-wishers, Damian held his hand out to Jon. “Come with me, I have something I wish to do,” he told his husband with a small smile. He watched Jon take his hand and stand before glancing over at his grandfather and giving him a nod. “We’ll go through the gardens,” he said as he guided them out of the Great Hall and into the cooling air of the summer night.

Gotham summers were hot, but thankfully their evenings cooled into something much more tolerable. Especially when he and Jon were required to be in their ceremonial robes for a celebration such as this.

Silently, he led his husband through the gardens, weaving through the maze with practiced ease. He was reminded of playing games with his father and Ser Jason when he was little, listening to his tutor as they walked the gardens between lessons, and spring days following Titus as he chased after birds and various flying bugs.

“Your Majesties,” a man with golden hair greeted with a bow as they reached one of the buildings near the stables. Damian gave him a smiled as Jon said his hello. “I have what you asked for in the back, if you’ll follow me.”

“Yes, thank you,” Damian said, moving to follow the man but pausing when Jon tugged on his hand. Looking over at his husband, Damian raised a brow. “Beloved?”

“What is going on here, Dami?”

Damian smiled and shrugged. “You shall have to follow and find out.” Taking a few steps forward, Damian allowed their arms to stretch their limit with their hands still clasped. “It is a surprise and one I think you shall like very much. So just come.”

Jon frowned before Damian saw him sigh and nod, walking forward and allowing Damian to lead them into the building. The inside wasn’t anything impressive and certainly didn’t give anything away, to which Damian was thankful.

“Ah, there you are,” the man commented as Damian reached the only room that was lit by firelight. Peeking his head into the room, he noticed the present innocently laying on the floor and Damian smiled.

“I had your father pick it out, but it was my idea for him to bring him from Metropolis,” Damian explained as he stepped into the room and Jon followed. It took a few seconds before Jon noticed what it was Damian was talking about.

With a surprised gasp, Jon released Damian’s hand and rushed forward to look down at the small white dog that had yet to notice their presence. But as soon as Jon knelt down next to it, the dog’s head lifted and his tiny tail began to wag.

“I thought Titus could use a playmate since my attention is now to be much more split than before,” Damian explained when Jon looked back to him as the dog jumped up and into his arms. When Jon’s laughter sounded as the dog began licking his face, Damian felt his heart squeeze.

“Does it have a name?”

“No he does not.”

Jon looked down at the dog who was panting happily as Jon pet his head and seemed to examine the dog closely. “Krypto,” he said, pulling a questioning sound out of Damian’s throat. “A protective deity from back home. He may not grow to the size of Titus, but I can tell he is going to be fierce.”

“I like that,” Damian nodded. Pushing to his feet, Jon picked up the dog and walked over to where Damian still stood by the doorway. “So you like him then?”

“I love him,” Jon confirmed. Damian wasn’t surprised when his husband leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips to show that very appreciation. “I love you. Thank you for giving me so much from back home.”

“You are leaving much behind. I am glad I can bring at least a bit of it to you in order to make the transition easier.” Jon’s smile softened at that and Damian looked away at the gentleness of it. “I had the staff bring everything he would need to our rooms during the celebration. Shall we introduce him to his big brother?”

Jon laughed and nodded, this time leading Damian out of the room and back out into the night air. Watching his husband dote on the small dog seemed to be a glimpse into their future as fathers and while he knew neither of them were quite ready for that, it did a lot to quell any nerves he might have had at the thought.

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

“But we need to think about this logically,” one of the Council members said as another tried to explain why sending more grain to the outer limits was a good idea for the winter. Damian had been sitting at the head of the table, Jon sitting in the spot just to his left where Damian had always sat when his father was king, listening to them talk in circles for far too long and it was starting to grate on him. The first three weeks of their marriage, Damian had appreciated Jon’s ability to keep Damian relaxed and calm when the meetings started getting out of order. But today, not even his husband’s unending calm could stop his annoyance from rising

“We have the reserves, do we not?” Damian finally spoke up, rubbing at his temple. He stood and waved a hand for one of them to pass the parchments to him. “Thank you,” he said to the servant who handed them over. Looking down at the numbers, he did the quick math in his head and tried to see what the problem was. “According to this we have more than enough. What is the issue with sending more than the usual amount to those who need it?”

“They have not increased their contributions to the stockpile, Your Majesty. It is not about us not needing it, it is about others getting the idea that they can get more without giving more.” It was a fair point and Damian knew that. His logical side knew what the man was getting at.

He knew that people could take advantage of their kindness. But he also knew that his job was to care for those who were under his rule. He could not do that if they starved through the winter.

“If I may?” Jon’s voice sounded, pulling the attention of everyone else at the table. The question was sent to Damian, but the others all nodded, and Damian slipped over the papers as he took a seat. Jon took them and glanced over the numbers before putting them down. “I do not believe thinking the absolute worst is helpful in this situation. Other villages are not going to see a way to get more for less. They are going to see a kingdom who cares for them when they need it most. Our people are kind. And they are generous. And that is because their rulers are kind and generous. Not frugal.”

Damian looked over to the other members of the Council and waited to see what they would say or do. He could see a few of them looking pleased, but the man who had been against sending the extra was not.

“And if winter hits us here in Bristol harder than anticipated? What are we to do then?” The man asked, looking back to Damian. But instead of answering, Damian looked over to Jon to see if he had a response. His husband looked unsure, but with a nod from Damian he seemed to gather his courage.

“Then we call upon our allies for aide. Or we reach out to villages to see if there is excess they do not expect to use.”

“Gotham does not call upon allies for resources at a whim, Your Majesty,” the man said, his voice souring with the condescending tone. Damian felt his eyes narrow as he took in the man addressing his husband. “Perhaps that was common in Metropolis, but that is not the Gotham way.”

And while Damian knew Jon could easily defend himself in the moment, he still slowly stood to his feet to look at the Council member. It was a move that was all due to his mother, an action she had taught him to perfect in order to command the attention in the room. And he inwardly cringed at how well it worked and how easy it was for him to remember.

Leaning forward, he pressed his hands flat on the long table. “Gotham also does not speak to their King in such a manner,” he spoke steadily, staring the man down. He hated seeing the man cower back slightly, glancing around at the other members of the Council. He made no move to acknowledge Jon’s hand when it came to rest on his forearm, though he knew his husband was trying to tell him that it was fine. That he was fine. “You would do well to remember that after my seat, my husband’s is the second most powerful in this room. And perhaps my grandfather would not have called upon allies in such a situation, but my father certainly would have. As will I.”

He saw various nods of agreement, some scribbling on parchment, out of the corners of his eyes but he kept his focus on the man. “You are King, but you are not the sole decision maker in these situations, Your Majesty.”

“Is that what you really think, Councilmember?”

“Damian,” Jon whispered fiercely, squeezing his arm tightly. But Damian continued to ignore him.

“You cannot abolish the Law of Old,” the man pointed out, but Damian took slight glee in the quiver in his voice. “You wouldn’t dishonor your father in such a manner.”

Despite the smirk on Damian’s face, inwardly he knew the man was right. Damian would never break the Law of Old just to spite the man for being disrespectful to his husband. Finally turning to look at Jon, he was not surprised to see the wide-eyed look on his face. Sighing, Damian sat back in his seat and noticed the Councilmember visibly sight.

“I do not need to abolish the law to put this into action,” Damian said, gesturing for Jon to sit back down. “We will send the extra requested of the village and should we find ourselves suffering due to our kindness, then we shall call for aide from one of our many allies.” He looked to the scribe of the Council and she gave him a firm nod, writing everything down as quickly as she could. “I believe we have accomplished all that we can for the day. We shall touch on the rest tomorrow.”

He watched as the members stood and gathered their things, leaving Jon and Damian still seated at the table as they made their way out of the room, discussing things amongst themselves. It wasn’t until the door shut behind the very last member that Damian looked over at Jon, finding him frowning at him in return.

“Beloved?”

“That was not like you,” Jon said quietly, leaning back into his chair. Damian made a questioning noise but said nothing. “You might as well have pulled a sword on the man.”

“Absurd,” Damian rolled his eyes, waving a hand at Jon. “I will not tolerate someone talking down to you in such a way. He needed to understand his place in this situation. And it is not one that puts him above you.”

He watched Jon observe him for a moment, not saying anything more. “I am serious, My Love. I have never seen you speak to someone in that manner before.” And it brought to mind just how much the action was like his mother. How even the movements he made were something she would have approved of. Sure, she would have told him to take the Council’s power all together, but she would have been pleased with him putting the man in his place. It made his stomach drop.

It made him feel rotten in his core.

And though he knew it was not Jon’s intention to compare him to his mother, that was how it felt in the moment. “I did that for you,” he stated, his voice rising ever so slightly as he straightened in his chair. “I stood up for you. That was not about me or how I felt. It was not about power or control. You are my husband, and I will not just sit back and allow someone to treat you as though you have no right to be here.”

“I know that, Dami. That’s not what this is about. I just want to understand what happened.”

“What happened is that I stood up for my husband. And if that is an issue, then perhaps you should just not come to Council meetings anymore.” He watched Jon’s jaw drop and immediately regretted saying that.

“That makes you no better than him.” And logically, Damian knew Jon had a point. But his brain was shifting into irrational and that felt like an attack. “I can see you getting angry, My Love, please. I am not wanting to fight.”

“Then you should have not compared me to him!” Damian shouted as he stood to his feet. “I am trying my best. I am doing what I think is best! This was not how my rule was supposed to start, but I can only do what I am able. And if the way I do that if not to your liking then I do not know what to tell you.”

He didn’t bother turning to respond when he heard Jon call his name as he stormed out of the hall. All he knew was that he needed to get out of that room before he said anything more. Because he could hear his mother’s voice in his mind, and he didn’t like any of the things she was telling him to do.

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

The sun had already started setting when Jon finally found him in his father’s old study. Damian knew he had missed dinner and that the others were probably concerned, but he had crawled too far into his head to really care. And he knew that if they had really wanted to find him, they would. But Jon would know well enough that he just needed some time and space to clear out the muck from inside his head.

His mother may have been executed over seven years ago, but Damian still found himself struggling with her influence. She had molded him for thirteen years and he didn’t know how to brush that aside. Especially without his father around to balance it out.

“My Love?” Jon’s voice called out from the doorway. Damian didn’t bother getting out of the chair he was slumped in, but he did look over at his husband for a moment before returning his gaze to the large window he sat in front of. This had been one of his favorite spots growing up. He had spent hours sitting there, listening to his father work while he watched the soldiers being trained by Ser Jason in the fields below.

His father had admitted that the window position was the exact reason he had picked this study. The memory just made his heart ache more now that he was without both of them.

A tray was set down on the table sitting between the two plush chairs and Damian could smell that it was probably whatever the chef had prepared for dinner. But the thought of food really just made his stomach churn at the moment, so he ignored it and looked to his husband instead. He watched him round the other chair and sit down on it.

“I am sorry for shouting,” Damian said, sending an apologetic look to the other man. He wasn’t surprised when Jon waved the apology off and Damian sighed. Some of the weight of the day slipped off his shoulders at the gesture and he sent a thankful look instead.

They sat there in silence for a few moments before Jon shifted and Damian knew he was about to speak. “What happened today, Damian? I do not understand what it is I said that upset you to that point. I want to be sure I do not make the same mistake again.”

“It was not something you said,” Damian told him, sitting up straighter to look at the other man more directly. “And I should not have taken that out on you. I knew, even then, that you were only trying to help. I know that, Jon. I just…” He trailed off, unsure of how to admit what the real issue was. Leaning back in his chair, he looked back out the window. “Father taught me so much, he made sure I was ready to take his place, but he could not erase my mother from my mind completely. And sometimes when I am faced with a difficult situation, I can still hear her in the back of my mind.”

He heard Jon moving but he didn’t pull his eyes away from the window as he spoke. He didn’t dare look at his husband because he would not be able to stand seeing pity in his blue eyes. He could not bear that. But against his best wishes, Jon came into view when he knelt in front of Damian and the younger couldn’t help but and look at the other man.

He let Jon take his hands into his own and just watched him, waiting to see what he was going to say or do. “You are not your mother,” Jon told him, and Damian did his best not to cringe at the words he had heard his father say to him so many times when he had been alive still. “You are far better than she was, and I know you know that.”

He did know that, but he still doubted himself. He still wondered if maybe his mother’s influence would prove to be stronger than his father’s one day.

“I am so afraid she will win.”

“She won’t,” Jon said with no hesitation. And Damian knew the other man believed in him absolutely, but it was still a doubt that lingered. Even when he himself didn’t actually believe it. “You would never let her. If she was going to, we would not be here. I would not be here. Her whispers of hate will not overcome your father’s love.”

Clenching his jaw, Damian swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “It has been seven years and still…”

“And yet here you are. If she really held any power over you still, do you honestly think you would have apologized to me?” Shaking his head, Damian knew he wouldn’t have. His mother would balk at any show of weakness. “And do you think you would have ended the meeting the way you had?” No, he would have stripped the man of his position. “Do not doubt yourself, My Love. In here,” Jon tapped his chest over his heart, “you are a good man. You are kind, generous, and exactly what Gotham needs.”

There was no lie in his words. Damian could sense nothing but complete and utter devotion, not that he had been expecting anything less from Jon. No, he never doubted anything when it came to Jon.

“Thank you, Beloved. Thank you for reminding me of the truth when I cannot see it clearly.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, My Love. Nor will I ever be anywhere else so long as this earth shall have me.”

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

“Father? What are we doing in the glade? Certainly, a walk this long was not good for you,” Damian heard his daughter call to him as he walked to the place where he had stood and married Jon so many years before. He knew, after laying his husband to rest a few days ago, that his time was limited and would follow soon. He didn’t even need Madame Xanadu to tell him that much.

But he had one last task to accomplish before he spent his finals days with their children.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring that had rested on his husband’s finger for so many years. The same ring that had encircled the finger of a man who was his father in all but blood until he had been lost.

“Rachel, please give me the box I asked you to hold,” he glanced back at his daughter. He smiled as she moved to stand beside him and gave him the hand-carved wooden box that he had asked Madame Xanadu to bless and protect. “Will you dig the hole I mentioned here?” He pointed to the spot between where he and Jon had stood for their handfasting.

His daughter sent him a strange look, but pulled the small handshovel out that he had asked her to bring and dropped to the ground. Slowly, Damian followed her actions and landed on his knees in the cool moss covered ground. As Rachel dug the hole, Damian opened the box and carefully placed the ring inside on the red velvet. He knew the box would survive until it was needed again, he only worried it would be found before it was meant to be.

“Is this deep enough?” He looked down at the hole his daughter had managed and nodded. Leaning forward, he placed the box inside of the hole that was as deep as the length of his arm up to his elbow. Once he had removed his hand, Rachel began dropping the displaced dirt back into it to cover the box from anyone who might pass this way. “Father? Why are we doing this? Do you not want to keep Father’s ring?”

Looking at his daughter, with her caramel skin and tight black curls, Damian shook his head. “No, this is what I need to do. It is of great importance. Someday, the right person will come and find this ring and it will go back to the person who should have worn it far longer than he was allowed to.” And because he had never told the story of what his mother had done to his father and the man he loved, his daughter just looked at him confused. “Come, help an old man to his feet and I will tell you the story of your shamed grandmother and the curse she has laid upon your grandfather.”

He watched Rachel frown, but still she stood and helped him to his feet. He watched her pack the dirt more with her shoe before tucking the hand shovel into her bag and offering her arm to him. Damian took it without much thought and allowed her to lead him back the way they had come.

“When your grandfather, Richard, was seven years old he was introduced to the future final Dragon Slayer of Gotham…” He started, resisting the urge to check on the spot they had buried the box one last time. Instead he told his oldest the story of his fathers and trusted that Madame Xanadu had told him the truth when she said it would remain until he returned one day to reclaim it.

#damijon #jondami #jaydick #damian wayne #jon kent #bruce wayne #past lives au #anikah writes

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kbstories · 5 years ago

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impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, First Impressions, Slice of Life, Character Study

No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima Eijirou had stared at the grin on Bakugou’s face when he pulled the pin in his gauntlet and thought: Holy shit, this guy is insane.

Over multiple screens, a good chunk of Ground β went up in a blast so strong the floor trembled with its aftershocks even here, miles away. Concrete and steel and glass were incinerated in a gust of fire and debris until all that was left was Midoriya’s crumpled form amidst plumes of smoke and Bakugou standing tall in the ruins.

The cameras shorted out once, twice before the image stabilized; the transmission remained silent. There was no sound needed to see how Bakugou’s grin got an edge sharper in the wake of the explosion.

Insane and absolutely deadly.

It wasn’t Kirishima’s first impression of him, per se. Certainly he’d had some sort of reaction to the only name ranked above his own after the Entrance Exams and the total sum of zero rescue points listed beside it. He can even remember the twinge of something in his chest after seeing that infamous quirk in action on day one – be it awe or envy or plain curiosity, that innocent question of How does it work, though? that accompanies most encounters with a new power.

Still: In those first few days, when Kirishima thinks of Bakugou Katsuki, he thinks of the mad glint in his eyes as he went above and beyond in his attempt to murder their classmate (or seriously maim him, at the very least).

In hindsight, having him play the villain was perhaps less coincidence and more fate, given the optics of what could reasonably be described as a shitshow. And, okay, Kirishima knows it’s not exactly fair to judge someone based solely on fleeting observations. His parents taught him better than that. Crimson Riot showed him better than that. It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.

Endure and overcome, just like any other obstacle looming over the difficult path ahead. Kirishima smiles around the pencil he’s chewing on as Aizawa drones on, eyes trained on the uniquely tense set of shoulders across the room.

Yeah. Bakugou won’t even stand a chance.

It takes many cold shoulders, rebuffed lunch invitations and countless glares – and a villainous intervention Kirishima could’ve honestly lived without – for a rough voice to say:

“You there. Shark Teeth.”

The sun is starting to peek into the room as it hangs low and lazy in the sky. Class 1-A has just been released into a well-deserved weekend: Kirishima is very much aware his mothers want him home as fast as possible after what happened at U.S.J., and he’s throwing his things into his bag at peak velocity. Only after a tap on his shoulder and a subtle nod from Sero does he register it’s him Bakugou is talking to.

Perhaps ‘growling at’ would be a better description, but… semantics. Kirishima throws the guy a look and a smile over his shoulder either way, “Hey! What’s up, man?”, and given Bakugou’s eyes only narrow a little, he’s about 70% sure he’s not done something to land on his shit list.

Yet.

All Bakugou does is direct a decidedly less neutral look towards Sero, who jolts and stumbles over a quick “Um. Gotta– Yup, okay, bye!” before he books it out the classroom. Kirishima watches him go with some bemusement and a muttered “Dude”, not that Bakugou reacts to it in any way.

“Spar with me”, Bakugou says instead – demands, really – and Kirishima feels his brows tick upwards before he can stop himself, hands pausing in his quest to cram his notepad next to his books without wrinkling its cover page too badly.

“Uh. Like, right now? ‘Cause I can’t. Well, I could but I’m about to miss my train as is and I’d have to tell my–”

A slow blink, and even that is threatening when it’s coming from Bakugou. “No, asshole. This weekend, or something. I don’t care.”

Oh. Kirishima blinks. Something about Bakugou approaching him out of his own free will must be causing a substantial lag between different areas of his brain because– Oh.

“Wait. You wanna hang out?”

Maybe he could’ve hidden the clear surprise in his voice a bit better, that emphasis on you that sort of slipped in there without him really wanting it to. Kirishima’s heart sinks at the twitch to Bakugou’s brow that pretty much guarantees whatever he actually meant to say is forever lost to the ire perpetually simmering in that red gaze.

Well, it was nice knowing what going to U.A. is like. At least none of his classmates are present to see Kirishima’s inevitable – if incredibly untimely – demise.

Then Bakugou… rolls his eyes, exhales a harsh tch for good measure. “Whatever.” He shoves his bag further up his shoulder and, without a glance back, walks out the room–

Oh no, you don’t.

Out of all foolish thoughts it’s that one that shoots through Kirishima’s head before he grabs his stuff and goes after him. Bakugou somehow manages to maintain that no-fucks-given air to his gait despite how fast he walks, and Kirishima falls into a light jog to close the gap.

“It’s a great idea, man. Can’t have us going soft over the weekend! Plus Ultra, just like All Might said, right?”

Bakugou gives him a withering glance of a side-eye for his trouble. Kirishima notes the distinct lack of explode-y manslaughter, though, and allows himself to settle right into Bakugou’s pace.

“Besides, it’s been like a week and we’re already having villains crashing our lessons. I mean, we showed ‘em what’s what and all, but still! Some extra training can’t hurt.”

It’s not like Kirishima minds being the one to carry a conversation yet the fact that he hasn’t been told to shut up is… something? Not enough for Kirishima to point out, it’s just a thing he notices, just something, so he keeps talking. Past U.A.’s gates, down the stairs and onto the busy sidewalk they go, and Bakugou’s hands never leave the pockets of his pants as he marches past clusters of people in an unflinching line.

Head held high, eyes dead ahead. Cutting through the crowd with his presence alone, and in his wake Kirishima follows.

The afternoon light is hitting that glow-y hue that paints even the most mundane of things in shades of gold when Kirishima realizes they’re headed to the train station. He draws up short, slows his step in the split-second it takes to ask himself if the other even takes the train home or–

Bakugou’s eyes are on him, “What?”, that one word barked so impatiently Kirishima throws the thought right out the metaphorical window and keeps walking.

“Nothing!” A flash of his home screen proves: Five minutes left. They’re making good time. Which, actually– “So what time were you thinking for our sparring sesh? I’m good whenever, unless it’s super late at night. Overprotective parents, you know how it is.”

That gets a huff out of Bakugou. That, and a gesture that’s sort of a grab, sort of a wave that has Kirishima a little stumped until Bakugou sighs gruffly. “Your phone, dumbass.”

“Oh, sure! Here.”

The device changes hands. Kirishima contemplates feeling embarrassed about the obvious crack that takes up half the screen; he’d designed his hero costume without his delicate tech in mind, and with the whirlwind of starting and then surviving week one of the new school year, he hasn’t been able to spare a minute to get neither the phone fixed nor the costume amended.

Bakugou doesn’t comment on it – in fact, he pulls his sleeve down to hold the thing as if to cushion it, and when he taps the screen it’s with his knuckles. Before Kirishima can ask, the pre-installed voice control AI chirps its distinct jingle and Bakugou tells it to make a new contact, rattling off a long string of numbers.

Even before the AI has confirmed the input, Kirishima is catching the phone chucked rather carelessly at his head. “There”, Bakugou says, starting to climb the stairs to the tracks two steps at a time.

Kirishima doesn’t have much time to process any of that before the telltale rattling of an incoming train sounds above them. “Oh shit”, he breathes, hurrying onto the platform and to the closest door just in time to see the last passenger get out. Once inside, he pumps his fist.

“Hell yeah! Dude, we–”

The person next to him, who is not Bakugou, looks rather startled. What the…? Kirishima turns a full 360 degrees before a knock just inches from his face startles him and he meets Bakugou’s smirk, firmly on the other side of the window.

Not a moment later, the train starts pulling away. Kirishima presses close to the thick, faintly scratched glass to watch Bakugou turn and walk right back where they came from. His hand is raised, the light catching white and glinting on something in his hand.

A phone. Oh, right!

Kirishima swipes across an image of Crimson Riot’s iconic pose to unlock and reads Bakugou Katsuki, having left the tab open in his haste. First things first: With a soft snort and a few swift taps, the name is changed before Kirishima hits the speech bubble icon next to it.

Baku💣💥

bro what the hell (sent 17:14)

but thanks (sent 17:14)

it’s kirishima btw (sent 17:15)

just text me the details whenever 💪🏻 (sent 17:15)

He watches the tick next to his messages turn blue almost immediately and waits. One station passes, then two. By the third Kirishima is sure he’s been left on read and laughs, shaking his head. Of course.

The rest of his way home is spent assuring Sero he has not, in fact, exited life in a flurry of explosions as well as letting his moms know he’ll be home in a few. The next time Kirishima checks his phone is between brushing his teeth and climbing into bed, two unread messages waiting for him.

Baku💣💥

[link] (received 19:35)

6AM tomorrow, don’t be fucking late (received 19:35)

The link leads to a location which his phone matches to a quirk-friendly gym pretty close to the U.A. grounds. Kirishima scrolls through a few images of the facilities with some interest before his brain registers–

6AM. On a Saturday.

Baku💣💥

/dude/ (sent 22:08)

srsly?? (sent 22:09)

😩😩 (sent 22:19)

f @ my sleep schedule but ok (sent 22:25)

Minutes later, Kirishima stares at the near-painful sight of an alarm set to 5AM before he sighs and flops face-down into his pillow. The things he does in the name of friendship.

>>Chapter 2

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fanfiction #this is just kiri and baku existing inbetween canon events tbh #this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff

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muthaz-rapapa · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s talk TroPreCure! (^∀^ 🌺)

i’m so stupidly proud of this dumb pun “tropurikyua~”, hahahahaha

Last post of the year and wow is there are lot to be excited for!

I even had to make a list for the stuff I want to talk about and I’m sure I already forgot one or two things but we’ll get to them as we continue to float~ along the wave to February 28th, mmkay? :)

Now for what has peaked my interest so far. And yes, we have to talk about the following first:

1) HealPre the shortest Precure season??

Unless they plan for double features in February (which I doubt but you never know), HealPre is likely going to reach only 45 episodes long instead of the usual 48~50 before TroPre I’m using this shortening of the title for now so if there’s a better alternative, tell me and I’ll switch out begins its broadcast.

Understandable because the producers probably want to get back to their normal scheduling as soon as possible (toy sales, y’know) and I suspect pushing the start of the new season back by a month is the most they’re willing to compromise.

As for me, I’m quite happy about this since HealPre’s lost its hold on my attention a while ago so the sooner TroPre gets here, the better. Though the downside might be a scrambled climax and a rushed, underwhelming ending for HealPre (I dunno if it’s January’s titles that feel a bit messy or if the hiatus is still throwing me off) but whatever. We’ll refresh ourselves with the new blood Cures so it’s all good.

2) Tropical movie announced for Autumn 2021, no All Stars??

(source)

First saw this mentioned on Youtube somewhere but it’s all over the fandom forums by now. I mean, HealPre’s movie is set for March, the usual time slot for All Stars release. If Toei intended for there to be an All Stars in 2021, there’s no way they would announce the seasonal movie before it so speculations of them skipping it this year are probably true.

To squeeze it somewhere between March and October-ish would force them to readjust their budgets as well and I don’t think even Toei wants to go through that extra hassle after all the trouble the pandemic’s caused for everyone already. It’s just easier to resume All Stars in 2022.

That, and I think Laura being a major character in TroPre despite not having a Cure title (yet) would make for an awkward situation when the three latest teams gather so perhaps that’s also one of the reasons. But I’ll get back to Laura in a bit.

3) Cure Summer is a RAINBOW Cure

So god help me if I see anyone calling her a Pink Cure.

Yes, she’s the lead Cure for this season. NO, she is not a Pink Cure.

Look, even the official website has a rainbow overlay for her profile pic and text font while everyone else’s respective theme colors are a solid hue:

Therefore, RAINBOW.

In promotional material and merchandising, they’re probably going to advertise her primarily with pink bah and at worst, she might occasionally be labeled as a White Cure with multiple subcolors (her outfit is not pink-dominant) but definitely NOT. PINK.

...also, this goes without saying but f***yea, we finally got a lead Cure practically and unabashedly wearing the LGBTQ flag and you cannot tell me otherwise, Toei!

Own up to it! Declare Manatsu/Cure Summer as the Precure queer icon!

I’m not gonna stop yellin’ until you do! 😠

4) Laura = obvious midseason Cure is obvious

First of all, Laura is a babe. I already love her the best and she’s not even Precure yet. <3

Anyways, the set-up is pretty much in the description. Important main character who’s not a mascot, stated to have a self-confident personality and just speaks her mind (oooh, I like~ :D), magical/foreign being from another world looking for Precure to save her home, possesses her own special item(s), has aspirations to become the next Queen (so she’s a princess-candidate or something to that effect, I suppose).

We’ve seen various combinations of these traits in past midseason (and a few starter) Cures so nobody should be surprised when we all guessed that one of the Cures would be a real live mermaid.

The only question is why not just make Laura a Cure from the get-go if she’s introduced to us at the beginning (like Hime or Lala) and having a team of five with no unnecessary extra add-ons later on (like Smile).

Well, there’s a simple answer for that: formula.

Toei is afraid that if they don’t spit out some new animation sequence at the halfway and third quarter points of the show, the kids will lose interest and abandon the series altogether. Which means failed toy sales. Oh nooo... [/sarcasm]

...Yea.

And this way they can also have Laura available in the Cure lineup for the next All Stars in 2022 instead of making her sit the fight out if we were going to have one in 2021. I’m convinced that’s gotta be one of the reasons. *shrug*

But ok, whatever. Her debut is gonna be later, that’s all. She’s a delayed Cure. Midseason Cure, same difference.

Moving along to the more important stuff now like what’s her Cure name gonna be, y/y?

Well, knowing Toei, a translation of the term “mermaid” into another language is the most predictable route even though we already have a Cure Mermaid. Not like that ever stopped them from repeating words before (ex. Cure Happy vs Cure Felice). Though if they do go down that road, I hope they opt for the Spanish/Italian “sirena” and not the French “sirène” because the latter sounds too close to how Cure Selene is pronounced in Japanese. And, putting it nicely, we all know Japanese pronunciation of foreign words is as off kilter as can be.

Hell, even the the Portuguese “sereia” sounds aesthetic as hell so it’d be nice if they can just remember there are other languages that exist out there besides Japanese, English and French when making the final decision at the writing table! *stomps foot* >:/

Alternatively, “nereid” or “naiad” are good choices too but they remind me too much of Greek myths and Laura’s from the Grand Ocean which covers more than just a couple of seas (Greece is surrounded by three, btw) so...

I dunno. But whatever it’s gonna be, she’s definitely got a strong association with water and her powers will probably be based on that.

As for theme color, since there’s noticeably no blue or green Cure in the starter lineup, it’s likely she will take up that spot when she debuts around ep 20.

Pink is also open since Cure Summer, again, is technically not a Pink Cure and Laura’s hair and tail fin are hot and light pink respectively but looking at Laura’s design and concept, does anyone seriously believe that?

Her upper torso consists of aquamarine while the body of her tail is definitely some shade of cyan, implying they’re aiming for somewhere around the middle of green and blue on the lighter spectrum.

And yea, I’m aware that green and blue are considered exchangeable in some perspectives with how close some of their shades are to each other but officially, I think Laura’s gonna be grouped with the Green Cures.

Cuz of the hair. If Laura’s gonna keep it the same or a similar shade after transforming, that is. The Blues have always had cool-colored hair so putting Laura in with them might disrupt that harmony whereas if you put her with the few Greens there are (including Parfait), she’d fit right in.

I mean, we’ll see but that makes the most sense, doesn’t it?

On another note, I just want to say that I love how they added frills to her arms instead of letting her elbows go bare naked. It definitely makes her look more like a genuine mermaid than if she didn’t have them (remember, half fish doesn’t mean half the body :P).

5) Magical Items

Frankly, I’m tired of seeing the transformation device being a compact again even though one of the main motifs is make-up this season. But at least, as far as Precure compacts goes, the Tropical one is my favorite cuz of how cute and delightfully colorful its toy version looks! So I guess I’m okay with it.

The Heart Rouge Rod, though? ...I dunno. I think it would’ve been fine without that...straw (?) jutting out at the top. It looks weird, doesn’t it look weird? :S

As for the collectible clip-ons, I can live without those for the rest of my life. Yeesh.

Laura’s items, the Aqua Pot and the Ocean Prism Mirror.

Again with the portable, travel-size housing. *sigh* 😩

Alright, I can let this year slide cuz Laura (I’m so soft for her, omg) probably won’t be getting legs for 20 weeks so she’s got to move about on land somehow. But unless they’re really thinking about turning this idea of carrying your apartment around in your bag/pocket/purse into a reality (cuz that would be effin’ awesome), please be more creative with your toys.

On the other hand, I’m much more interested in the Ocean Prism Mirror but from what Kusyami (the Precure merchandise reviews I follow on Youtube) said in his latest vid, this is the ED dance item so don’t know if it’ll actually have an relevance to the story or not. But I did hear him mention it having something to do with the Queen as well and since Laura wishes to become Queen, maybe it’ll be important after all? Maybe it’s her transformation device?

That’d be super cool. Let’s continue the trend of the midseason Cure having a different transformation item than the starters. Honestly, we should alternate every other year or two but we’ve gone three seasons with all of them using the same henshin gimmicks up till HealPre and I just want a break from that.

6) Fin sleeves??

These look so impractical for combat so maybe it’s exclusive to group attacks.

And/or a sort of precursor to the super forms?

*GASP* Does that mean they all eventually turn into mermaids? 🤩

7) Yui finally became Precure!! 😭

lol, it’s all crack from this point on so don’t take it too seriously but man, after Yuni’s deceptive braids, I thought I wasn’t gonna see anything that reminded me of Yui for a while and lo behold, Sango.

kehehehehehe xD;

Though Yui might be closer to Minori in terms of personal interests (fairytales and storybooks).

8) Akira, the actual Onee-chan version

I didn’t think this when I first saw her but once I read “Onee-san” in her profile, there’s no saving you now. Sorry, Asuka. 😅

Also, damn, do her sandals make her feet look big! Compare them to the heels she wears as Flamingo. Are they even the same?! lololol

9) ...this sounds awfully familiar...

Translation:

Tokimeku Tokonatsu! [Exciting/Thrilling Everlasting Summer!] Cure Summer! Kirameku Hoseki! [Sparkling Jewel!] Cure Coral! Hirameku Fuurutsu! [Flashing Fruit!] Cure Papaya!

Japanese reiteration:

Mallow/Mao: Pink no tokimeki! Lillie: Blue no kirameki! Lana/Suiren: Yellow no kagayaki!

….........

@Toei

Care to explain yourselves, punks?!

୧(ʘ ∀ ʘ ╬)

#it is 1:30 AM and im hungry and still have to do work on new year's eve so i'll come back to amuse-rage later #tropical rouge! precure #precure 2021 #cure summer #cure coral #cure papaya #cure flamingo #laura la mer

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northcarolinanative · 5 years ago

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𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pope Heyward X Reader

A/N: This is my first Pope fic, so let me know what you think. I was super hesitant to write this because I feel like there is still so much that we don’t know about pope other that this pressure that his dad puts on him and his own pressure because of the scholarship. I am really hoping that we learn more about Pope in season 2. Anyways, as always my requests/asks/DMS are open. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think:) PS: The flashback is in Italics:)

Description: The Reader and Pope have been together for a while now, but it seems like both of them are getting pulled apart from one another. Their lives and their futures seem to be getting in the way of their relationship. Based on the song Bad Timing by Rhys Lewis.

You're heading out, as I'm coming home But I haven't seen you in forever

I walked in the chateau after the dreadfully long shift waitressing at the country club. Today was a terrible day at work, the older men just seemed to not give it a rest, I got two orders wrong, leading me to be yelled at, and having food spilled over me multiple times. I wanted to chill out on the HMS pogue with my boyfriend and our friends. I looked around at the scattered mess that the other pogues had left out in front of me. I shook my head, knowing that all the boys were to blame for the mess. I hear voices outside as I make my way out through the back porch. My plans for the remainder of the day were crushed when I saw JJ and Pope on Heyward’s delivery boat at the dock. John B was standing and talking to them. “Ahh, there she is, our favorite country club waitress!” JJ yelled to me as I made my way across the yard. I saw Pope giving JJ a sharp look, but JJ just laughed it off.

“Hello boys” I chimed giving John B a hug. I saw Pope leaning over the side of the boat. I stood on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Are you heading out for deliveries?” I asked, looking at the stocked boat.

“Yea. I know you just got home and are tired. Why don’t you get some rest, we’ll meet up later tonight? Just us?” Pope questioned, in his normal awkward tone. We’d been together for almost a year, but every time Pope asked me to hang out just us two, he got nervous. Honestly, I thought it was adorable.

“Of course, baby. I miss you.” I put my hand on his cheek, making the moment a little more intimate. John B and JJ were bickering and focused on other things. “I feel like it’s been forever since I got you all to myself,” I said, fixing the collar of his loose Hawaiian shirt.

“I know, it’s been hard with work, but we’ll make up for it tonight.”

We steal a kiss, and you close the door I guess we're alone in this together

“Alright go, get your job done, I’ll be here when you get back.” I looked at John B for approval to stay around, he nodded his head.

“I’ll see you later,” He said, reaching down for another kiss. This one was a little more intimate than the last. He had his hands on either side of my face, while mine rested on his shoulders.

The boat started moving away from the dock, breaking us apart. “Y’all will have enough of that later. We got groceries to deliver.” JJ yelled speeding the boat away from the dock.

John B walked up to me, as we both waved bye to the boys. He threw his arm around my shoulders. John B was like the older brother I never had. I was an only child, as it seemed most of the pogues were. John B and I grew up together, living across the street from each other most of our lives. “What’s going on between you two?” He asked as we began to walk toward the hammocks. ”Things seemed…” He paused and looked in my direction, “Tense”

I settled into the hammock, kicking off the uncomfortable work shoes and lying back. “I had a shit day at work for one.” I smiled at John B. He knew that working at the country club was my least favorite of the jobs we picked up. “I wanted to hang out with Pope, Ya Know? I just feel like we never get to see each other. Our schedules never get to line up. We’re both trying to work so much to save up for college, and when we aren’t working it seems like we’re working on scholarship essays or studying. We both want to get off this island so bad that I think we aren’t taking the time to enjoy our time together. We’re together, but sometimes it just feels like we’re going through the motions.”

John B just nodded. I wondered if Pope had also talked to him about the way he had been feeling. “You never know what the Pope is thinking. He doesn’t show his emotions, you’re gonna have to talk to him Y/N. You can’t keep this to yourself. Relationships require communication” He settled into the chair beside me, throwing his feet up in the chair in front of him lying back. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen it tearing you apart.”

“Wow JB, that sounds like actual advice?” I laughed at the joke causing him to scoff and let our a sarcastic ‘haha”.

He continued and I knew what he was about to ask. “Have you told him about NC State yet?”

I took in a deep breath. “We haven’t had the time yet JB. We’re always with the pogues or its just fleeting moments where we kiss and pass each other by. We haven’t been alone for me to tell him.” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I was hoping to tell him tonight.”

John B just nodded letting silence fall over us. I looked up at the few clouds that were in the sky. I felt the breeze that came off the ocean and moved the clouds across the sky.

Well I miss the nights, we'd lie awake Both throwing shadows at the ceiling

One of the clouds was shaped loosely like a wolf, reminding me of the night Pope and I got together. Apparently everyone but Pope and I didn’t see it coming.

“Pope what is that supposed to be,” I asked looking at his hands, tangled together, trying to make a shadow on the tree using the firelight.

“It’s literally a jellyfish! See?” I moved his hands trying to get his hands to form in the shape. “See these are the Lappets” He wiggled his extended fingers out. “And this is the hood.” He raised the fist that was made by his other hand.

“You mean the stingy things” I tapped his moving fingers, “And the body bubble,” I said tapping his fist.

Pope rolled his eyes dropping his hands over his stomach. To put in laymen’s terms, then yes, Y/N, The stingy strings and the bubbly thing on top” He laughed. The sound was always music to my ears. Pope often took life very seriously. Getting him to relax, even if it was for a few moments was nice.

“Look” I held my hand up next to his, pressing my middle and ring finger to my thumb and sticking up my pointer and middle finger. “A wolf” I giggle. Pope knocked my hand down grabbing it in his. It took me back, Pope was hardly one to make the first move when it came to physical affection. I turned on my side, the dynamic of the hammock making it so that we were pressed against each other. Our faces were close to one another, I could feel his breath across my face. Our eyes flickering between each other’s eyes and lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Pope whispered. It was so soft that I wasn’t sure that I heard him correctly. I nodded my head subtly, but that was all Pope needed.

I felt his lips on mine, neither of us moved at first. Until I began to move my lips against him. I found myself surprised at how good he was at kissing. I felt my heartbeat quicken as the kiss progressed. I found one of my hands rested on his chest and one on the nape of his neck. His hand moving along my sides. We finally pulled away from one another, trying to catch our breath.

“Wow, a rare outburst of emotion Pope.” I joked.

I smiled looking up at the sky still. I love Pope with all my heart, but I had this sinking feeling that we were getting pulled into two different directions of life.

But life keeps getting between us And it's all too heavy to keep up anymore

I woke up when I felt a pair of arms making their way around me. I opened my eyes seeing the yellow hue of the air made by the setting sun. I must have slept through the remainder of the afternoon. I turned to face the boy smiling at him. Pope returned the smile back placing a kiss to my forehead. “Someone told me that you were going on a sunset beach walk tonight?” He laughed.

“Oh is that so?” I asked with a smile crossing my face. Pope held his hand out to help me get out of the hammock I had been sleeping in. I took his hand as he led us down the beach to our usual spot. Our spot was where we had walked to the night after we kissed at the Chateau. It was some larger rocks that Pope and I would climb up on and sit, sometimes for hours.

“How was delivering groceries with JJ?” I asked, nudging his shoulder, knowing JJ probably made it much harder than it had to be.

“Oh. It was practically a blast, the most fun I’ve had all summer” the sarcasm dripping off his words.

“No run-ins with Kooks?” I asked. It had become routine, making sure that the boys were okay after coming back from Figure 8.

“No. We got lucky today.” We had reached the rocks. Pope climbed up first, then reaching down to help me up to sit with him. The rock sat up higher on the beach, giving us the perfect view of the setting sun. The sky was starting to turn a range of orange and pink shades. A silence fell over Pope and I as we sat watching the sunset.

“I got into NC State.” Pope’s head turned sharply to look at me, his eyes wide. “And I’m gonna go.”

“I’m happy for you.” He said, but I could tell there was something in his voice. “We’ll make it work.”

“Pope, you're gonna be at Western, and I’ll be at NC State, that’s like across the state. We’re growing apart,” I said in a whisper. I wasn’t trying to be devil’s advocate, but there was something about it

“What are you saying? We can’t keep up with each other?” Pope scoffed jumping off the rocks. I could sense the anger in his voice. I felt my breath get heavy. I didn’t want to have this discussion so soon, I didn’t want to ruin our summer.

“Pope stop!” I followed after him. “What does that mean?” I felt the tears start to prick at my eyes as he turned to face me. I saw the tear streaks making their way down his face as well.

We stuck by it, we kept trying But there's no fighting bad timing I wish we'd met each other five years later 'Cause I hate the way we're being torn apart

“Have you not noticed? We keep trying Y/N. Something always keeping us apart. Whether it was school or work, but now it’s our futures.” He moved closer to me.

“Pope I want to make this work!” I breathed out looking into his brown eyes, still lined with heavy tears. “We have to keep trying!”

He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you. I hate how it feels like we’re being torn apart” He let his head drop to rest his forehead on mine.

“If only we could skip ahead to five years from now, start our lives off the island.” I smiled at Pope.

“I know that the timing is bad, but this summer is going to be the best summer of our lives,” Pope said putting his hand on my cheek. “I Promise.”

“As much as I want that.” I took a step back from him, removing myself from his embrace. “We need to figure out what is going to happen between us. Do you think we can make long distance work? And for the next four years? I’ll be at NC State and you’ll be at Western, that’s across the state Pope.” I reiterated, dropping my head as I felt a sob make its way through my body. I was trying to hold it back. I didn’t want to lose Pope.

“They’ve got busses and we’ll have to come home for breaks? The state isn’t that big.” Pope paused before letting out a sigh and continuing, “I want to love you for the rest of my life Y/N,” Pope said. I looked up at him slowly. “We’ll make it work, we always do.” He moved forward to wrap his arms around me in a tight hug. I breathed in his scent. My senses filled with the smell of pine from a cologne that I bought him for his birthday. He was right, our lives were so integrated. I couldn’t see myself loving anyone else, ever. Pope was my weird, corpse obsessed boyfriend. I couldn’t think of anyone who could make me smile like him, that was as loyal as him, or as caring as him.

“The timing to fall in love couldn’t be worse,” I said with a slight giggle. I stepped up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his. It was a soft and gentle kiss, but all the emotions from our fight were poured into it. I felt the pain that he had from our impending departure, to how we felt about being separated for so long.

“There's no fighting bad timing,” He said as I rested my head on his chest looking out at the horizon that the sun had just slipped past.

Masterlist

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juviin · 5 years ago

Photo

Here’s literally all the rosie lore.

(template 1) (template 2)

Name: Rosemary Nare Etana Alias: Ro, Rose, Rosie Personality: Rosemary is very open about her emotions. She takes a while to warm up to people, but when she does, she loves people very strongly. Relatives: Father (estranged), Mother (deceased), 4 older siblings, 2 younger siblings. Status: Alive Species: Human Gender: cis female Age: 19 Eyes: Gold Hair: Pink Appearance: Rosemary is 5′5 and has short pink hair. She has two scars, one along her back and one on her lower right abdomen. She also has a tattoo on her calf of a lily. Birthday: July 30th Constellation: Leo Height: 5′5″ or 165 cm Blood Type: O Occupation: Magic Knight -Squad: Black Bulls Country: Clover Affinity: Lava Magic (On a scale of 0-10: 0 being terrible and 10 being the best) Physical Strength 5/10 Magic Amount 7/10 Magic Control 9/10 Magic Sensing 6/10 Cleverness 9/10 Growth 8/10 Equipment: none

(this next one is all in first person which i am NOT used to writing in but...)

Part 1: The Basics

What is your full name?--Rosemary Nare Etana

Where and when were you born?--I was born on July 30th in a large city in the Common Realm, however we moved to a small town shortly after I was born.

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)--

Lily Etana was my mother’s name. She worked several jobs while raising us, like waitressing and being a maid. She was very kind too, but a lot of people took advantage of her for that. I guess that’s why Val and I have taken to being aggressive about how we feel, and aggressive in sticking up for her. When I was 12, an assassin killed her and gave me the scar across my back. I’m sure he was sent by my grandparents, but they played the fool and even sent an advisor to her funeral. Since then, that advisor has scheduled meetings with me monthly to make sure I haven’t told anyone.

My father’s name is Andranik Typhos the fourth? something like that, but I don’t know very much about him. I know he’s a noble, but I’ve never met him. I don’t hear that many complaints about him, and Mother says he was a wonderful gentleman, but I’ve met his parents, and I find it hard to believe that they would raise a lovely son.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?--I have four! On my mom’s side, at least.

Valerian is the oldest. He’s sixteen years older than me, so he’s a lot more mature than me, and very protective of us younger siblings. He has three kids, too, and his wife is Eli’s cousin. They have been married since I was only three, so she’s been in our lives forever. The two of them basically became my parents after our mother died, so I couldn’t be more grateful to them.

Then is Dahlia. Dahlia is 12 years older than me. She’s very calm, and there have been more than a few times where Valerian has been freaking out and Dahlia always keeps her cool and fixes the problem. She’s the best at makeup.

Basil is in the direct middle, and they’re 9 years older than me. They are very energetic and mischievous. I don’t think Basil wants a spouse, but they’re very dedicated to their craft. I blame them for the multiple scams of my father’s estate, but who’s complaining? Basil also has a scar along their right cheek, running from their nose to their chin

Azalea is the closest to my age, she’s 25. She’s a lot like our mom. She treats everyone with kindness, but I worry about people taking advantage of her for that.

Also, I know that my father has two children younger than me with his wife, but I’ve never met them and I probably never will.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.--I live with the Black Bulls! The base is really crazy and always changing, but there’s always something going on, so everyday is fun.

What is your occupation?--I’m a Magic Knight, but I have also worked some other jobs in the past.

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks--I’m 5′5, and around 150lbs. My skin is pale, so I tend to burn very easily, and my eyes are yellow and my hair is pink. I like to wear warm colors and clothes that aren’t very tight, as well as boots. I have two large scars, one is about three inches and is a slash along my stomach, while the other one is about eight inches long and runs across my upper back, both from assassination attempts. I try to hide both of them. I also have one tattoo on my lower calf, so it’s usually covered.

To which social class do you belong?--I believe I’m considered a commoner. I likely wouldn’t be considered a noble unless something happened to my father’s legitimate children, though I have no interest in being taken in by his family.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?—I get nosebleeds often because of an injury when i was younger.

Are you right- or left-handed?—right handed

What does your voice sound like?—If I had to describe it, I’d say it’s medium in pitch and kind of airy.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?--nothing particularly?

What do you have in your pockets?—um. a handful of flowers, a pocket watch, and assorted candies.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?—I sometimes bite my nails.

Part 2: Growing Up

How would you describe your childhood in general?--Average for the most part, I’d say. I had a loving mother and 4 great siblings. Still, my mother’s death hit all of us very hard.

What is your earliest memory?--Sadly, my first assassination attempt. That one was when I was around five and it was sent by my father’s family. It gave me the scar on my stomach, and also gave Basil the scar on their face from them protecting me.

How much schooling have you had?--I went to the small schoolhouse in town up until I was 12, and then I started going less so I could work more.

Did you enjoy school?--I enjoyed learning, but I’ve found that I learn more outside of school.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?--I learned basic first aid and how to identify certain plants and herbs from my siblings. I mostly learned battle from experience and assassins.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.—my siblings, especially Basil

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?--We all got along very well as kids, though they were all a lot older than me so that did strain our relationships a bit, especially as the youngest.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?--As a child I wanted to work in medicine, even though my magic is ill suited for it. I only decided that I wanted to become a Magic Knight after my mother’s death.

As a child, what were your favorite activities?—i used to love helping my mother garden.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?--I cried a lot more than I do now. I was always scared, as I knew from a young age that my father’s parents wanted me dead.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?--My only friend was really Eli, but she hung out with all the kids from town, so i vaguely knew them.

When and with whom was your first kiss?--also Eli, when we were about 12 and 13.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?--I’m not. After Eli left town I kind of lost myself for the next two years until I became a knight.

Part 3: Past Influences

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?--My mother's death perhaps?

Who has had the most influence on you?--Eli. I think if not for her, I would be a very different person.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?--The amount of nobles I’ve insulted to their faces on official magic knight business.

What is your greatest regret?--being born.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?--I don’t think I’ve ever done anything “evil”, only some malicious things, but I don’t regret them.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?--No, but I probably should for extortion.

When was the time you were the most frightened?--The first attempt on my life.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?--My elder brother catching me lying about my profession.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?—i would be stronger.

What is your best memory?—probably the first few months with the black bulls. It was genuine happiness for the first time in a while.

What is your worst memory?—the aftermath of my mother’s death. I don’t remember the actual event, some mix of trauma and head injuries, but I do remember the weeks following.

Part 4: Beliefs And Opinions

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?—i think i’m more pessimistic, but i'm trying to be an optimist.

What is your greatest fear?--My greatest fear is once again being too weak to protect the people that I love.

What are your religious views?--I’m not religious.

What are your political views?--I think that the Clover Kingdom’s nobility is corrupt, and the whole system needs to be fixed.

What are your views on sex?--I think nothing much of it.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?--I think I’m a hypocrite on this. I think killing is unacceptable, but I wouldn’t hesitate to kill the people that harm the ones I love.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?--In my opinion, the most evil thing one can do is to habitually hurt and abuse others.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?--No. I don’t think that anything like that is real.

What do you believe makes a successful life?--I think that money plays a large part of success.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?--Very open. My emotions are very easily read.

Do you have any biases or prejudices?--Yeah i hate nobles.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?--I try to stay out of the public eye as best I can. I also refuse to do jobs near my grandparents’ home.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?--Finral or Eli. I’d do anything for them.

Part 5: Relationships With Others

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?—I try to keep people at a distance, but when I become close to someone, they become one of my People. I’d do anything for the people I’m close to.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?--Right now, it’s probably Eli or Finral. They’ve positively affected me in more ways than I can count.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?—Captain Yami is the person I respect the most. Joining the Black Bulls changed my life so much for the better, and I’m so grateful that he gave me that opportunity.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people—Eli is my best friend. She’s loud and always smiling, but I worry about her. I’m also pretty close to Magna. He’s a great friend and brings out my mischievous side more.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.--Finral is great. He’s a little goofy, but he is very loyal and loving.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.--I think I’m in love right now.

How close are you to your family?--I’m very close to my older siblings.

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?--No. I think I’d like to at some point be a mother, but not for a while longer.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?--I think I would find it hard to turn to anyone, but if I was so desperate, probably Eli or Magna. I’m too afraid to show Finral my weakness.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?--No. I need to be strong enough to protect myself.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you?--I think that the bulls would.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why?--My father. My mother spoke kindly of him, but he abandoned her.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?--I argue more.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?—depends who I'm with, but I’m more likely to take a leadership role.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?—I’d prefer a smaller group, personally, but i’m not bad with large groups.

Do you care what others think of you?—yes. immensely

Part 6: Likes And Dislikes

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?--I enjoy reading romance novels, and spending time in nature. Flower fields remind me of home and give me comfort.

What is your most treasured possession?—my pocket watch. my mother gave it to me, since it was a gift to her from my father.

What is your favorite color?—i like warm pale yellow

What is your favorite food?—I like crepes!

What, if anything, do you like to read?—I like to read romance.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?--I enjoy reading. On days off, I often spend hours at a time sitting outside and reading.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?—I generally don’t, but I will drink sometimes. I probably drink an average amount.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night?—generally hanging around the Bulls hideout. If I have a day off I often go visit home to see my mother’s grave and give her flowers.

What makes you laugh?—My squadmates! I’ve been told my sense of humor is bad..

What, if anything, shocks or offends you?--I hate the prejudices of the Clover nobles.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?—When that happens (because it has before) I will usually walk around the base, sometimes I eat a snack. I also like to head outside and look at the stars when I can’t sleep.

How do you deal with stress?—I will usually end up letting it out, whether emotionally or magically. I don't like to bottle things up.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?—I prefer having a plan.

What are your pet peeves?—people talking over others.

Part 7: Self Images And Etc.

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?--I wake up at about 7 every morning, and get ready for the day. If I have a mission, I’ll leave for it early. On days I don’t have a mission, I will either go visit my mother’s grave or go see my grandparents or their advisor.

What is your greatest strength as a person?--I’d say my strength is supporting people. And also throwing lava.

What is your greatest weakness?--I lie a bit too much, and I am a bit indifferent towards people I don’t care about.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?--I would want to be more caring.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted?--I’d say introvert.

Are you generally organized or messy?--Organized. I don’t like disorder.

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.--I’m good at lying, cleaning, and fighting. I’m bad at controlling my emotions, sewing, and cooking.

Do you like yourself?--No, I really don’t.

What are your reasons for being a magic knight*? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)--I am a magic knight because I want to protect people.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?--I want to heal from my past.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?--I hope to still be a Magic Knight, and hopefully a higher rank.

If you could choose, how would you want to die?--I would want to die swiftly if I could choose.

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.--I would try to isolate myself from the people I love, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with grief. I think I would generally be calm.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?--I want to be remembered for my strength.

What three words best describe your personality?--open. loyal. decisive.

What three words would others probably use to describe you?--Rosie is loyal, smart, and loving!!-Eli

#black clover #black clover oc #bc oc #oc rosemary #my art #fhdjksfhk this took so LONG im dying jim #im also doing this Whole thing for eli but shes nowhere near done yet #nini ocs

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psychosistr · 4 years ago

Text

Snow Day

Summary: After a particularly rough day, Domino isn’t in the best mood. Fortunately, Steelbeak knows just the thing to cheer him up- all he needs is a nice day and some of his partner’s favorite weather.

Notes: This was a holiday gift for @thefriendlyfour and I hope you all enjoy it as well ^.^ As always, Domino (as well as Steelbeak’s outfit design) belongs to the ever amazing @thefriendlyfour / @eleanorose123 (though I think Domino’s winter outfit in this one was originally designed by @akysi ), so make sure you go check out their work as well! =^.^=

There were many things to like about the city of St. Canard: Exciting night life. Great views of the bay. A diverse ecosystem in and around the town. Plenty of places to eat, shop, and steal from. A resident super-hero (though that being likable was subjective). A prison with terrible security for easy escape (again, subjective).

The weather, Dominic thought, was decidedly not one of the things to like about St. Canard.

The loon and his partner, Steelbeak, had just endured an all-day mission for FOWL that involved driving all over the city in temperatures just short of freezing. Normally, the red-eyed bird enjoyed colder weather- winter was his favorite season, after all. Today, however, had been that uncomfortable kind of cold where it seemed fine at first but, over time, made you regret not choosing a warmer coat when you left (they’d both made that mistake, and had relied on his car’s heater to thaw themselves out every time they were done at one location) that only got worse when the clouds decided to precipitate just enough for it to be misty but not enough to snow, resulting in the clammy kind of cold that seeped into their clothes and had them shivering every time they stayed outside just a little too long.

Everything culminated in a showdown with Darkwing Duck at the bay where the two top-ranking agents attempted to use FOWL’s newest device, the “PRESSURIZER”, to drain all of the water and use it as an extremely dangerous high-pressure water canon to extort the town’s residents and government for billions. They had been so close to victory…until that infuriating little red headed girl that always trailed along behind the city’s protector used a hockey stick to launch a wrench that Darkwing’s (admittedly attractive) sidekick had on him in an impressive ricochet shot that perfectly hit the “self-destruct” button (Steelbeak would later swear to pay a visit to the scientist responsible for that little feature) on the console right between the two fowls. Had the resulting blast not sent the pair plummeting into Audubon Bay, Dominic would have been inclined to comment on the child making such an impressive and difficult shot so easily.

As it stood, however, he wasn’t in any hurry to congratulate the one responsible for submerging him and his partner in a bay that was one step above freezing.

Once the deadly duo had dragged themselves up from the ocean’s chilling depths, they made a hasty retreat to Dominic’s car and sped off just in time to avoid the police. While they’d avoided any major injuries (bumps, bruises, scrapes, and singed feathers were par for the course when it came to their line of work), the two agents ended the day feeling exhausted, frustrated, soaked to the bone, shivering like they were trying to avoid hypothermia (which may not have been far from the truth). Oh, and let’s not forget the cherry on top of this wonderful day- Dominic’s car now absolutely reeked of sea water from the two having to sit in it without having time to dry off or change their clothes.

By the time they got home, showered, and changed, it was late and neither man was in a particularly good mood. Both of them just wanted a few days to unwind before having to deal with anymore insanity. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

Well, apparently it was.

No sooner had the two gotten settled on opposite ends of Steelbeak’s couch, fully intent on relaxing before dinner, than the large screen across the room flickered to life on its own. Dominic held back a frustrated groan and could hear a barely muffled sound of displeasure from the lighter bird across from him.

The images on the screen came into focus and three familiar silhouetted figures appeared on it, the one seated in the middle doing the talking as per usual. “Chief Officer Steelbeak, agent Domino, we have a new mission for you.”

Dominic ignored the muttered “gimme a break” from his right, though he certainly agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. “When do we start?”

Both agents groaned internally at their leader’s rather curt reply. “First thing in the morning at 8:00 sharp.”

He went on to explain the details of their mission, but Dominic was only idly absorbing the information (they’d be given proper instructions in the morning). What the loon got from High Command’s summarized description was that the science department had developed some sort of large egg-shaped sun-blocking device that would create a false eclipse. While the citizens of Calisota were panicking over the false eclipse, FOWL would be taking advantage of the chaos to rob multiple high-value targets at once ranging from museums to laboratories.

Apparently this all had to be done tomorrow, as it was the only day of the coming weeks predicted to have a substantial amount of sunlight for the device’s deployment to make a significant impact.

Although Steelbeak seemed just as thrilled (maybe even less so) than his partner, the lighter FOWL managed a convincingly neutral acceptance of their orders. “Sure thing. We’ll be up an’ waitin’ for the call.”

After receiving a similar acknowledgement from Dominic, the screen went dark once more.

With no more eyes on them (at least, they were fairly certain there were none, it was hard to tell sometimes whether or not with that thing..), the chief officer and his partner finally vocalized their displeasure- Dominic with a frustrated sigh and Steelbeak with an irritated groan.

“No rest for the wicked, it seems.” The loon shook his head, not bothering to hide his scowl anymore. “You’d think we’d get at least ONE day off after what they just put us through…”

Steelbeak rolled his eyes, his scowl matching the darker bird’s. “That’s the problem with those ‘workin’ behind the shadow’ types- they get t’ sit around all day tellin’ everyone else what t’ do an’ forget how exhaustin’ it is bein’ a field agent……like t’ see ‘em try runnin’ ‘round all day an’ deal with stupid heroes shootin’ junk at ‘em…” The last sentence was muttered disdainfully, but was certainly not lost on the other man.

“Now that is something I’d pay to see.” Dominic sighed, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes. Might as well relax while he could, seeing as he’d have to head straight to bed after dinner to make sure he had enough energy for tomorrow. “That or some bad weather…I’d actually pay for it if it meant having a day off.”

With his own eyes closed, the loon missed the look of realization that appeared in the lighter fowl’s dark eyes….and the devious smirk that soon followed…

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

A loud, rather irritating ringing woke Dominic up from his slumber. Rolling onto his side with one red eye barely open to peer at his bedside clock and the covered window across the room, he was further irritated by the fact that it was too early for his alarm to go off- it was only half past five and he’d been hoping to rest until at least seven. The ringing, he soon realized, was coming from his phone rather than his alarm clock.

While he was very tempted to simply ignore whoever thought it was okay to call him before the sun was even starting to rise, the half-awake loon recognized the ring tone and, resignedly, answered it.

Just because he deemed the one calling him worthy of being answered, however, didn’t mean he was pleased by the literal wake-up call. “Steelbeak..you have five seconds to convince me not to go next door and smother you to death with one of your tacky pillows..”

That distinctive laugh could be heard through the receiver, sounding far more awake than anyone had any business being at this time of day. “Well, good mornin’ t’ you too, sunshine.” Before Dominic had a chance to protest the mocking nickname or threaten to hang up, the much more awake fowl continued speaking, this time in a slightly more serious tone. “Get up an’ get dressed, we’re leavin’ in fifteen. Don’t worry ‘bout breakfast, I’ve got ya covered.”

Well that certainly helped wake him up. Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, Dominic sat up and stretched his legs to help get his body on the same page as his mind. “What happened? Did High Command call and change the time?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, it’s not that big of a deal. Just get dressed an’ meet me in the hall.” Just before he hung up, Steelbeak added one more thing as an afterthought. “Oh, an’ wear somethin’ warm- warmest ya got.”

Looking down at the phone in his hand once the dial tone began to play, Dominic was left with more questions than answers. Had the temperature gone down further since yesterday? Had something come up that changed High Command’s plans? Why was Steelbeak so awake and aware of what was going on?

Despite the many questions floating through his now-awake brain, Dominic did as his partner instructed and got ready for the day. Once his feathers were straightened properly, the loon opened his closet and moved aside his usual outfits for a much warmer one that he typically reserved for the coldest time of the year: A white coat with both light and dark blue accents, a belt-like clasp, a blue and white snowflake emblem on the bottom above the fluffy white trim, and even kept the aesthetic of his usual outfit by placing white buttons in a domino-like pattern over the blue squares of fabric on his torso. The coat had matching white gloves, blue and white boots, a white scarf with a snowflake emblem like the one on the bottom of his coat that was currently tucked into his collar to help him stay warm, and a white pork-pie style hat (he would never understand why people named clothing styles such ridiculous things, but the hat was comfortable) with a light blue hat band and two blue dots to match the coat’s motif.

By the time he left his apartment, Steelbeak was waiting in the hall for him with two thermoses of coffee. The taller man was also dressed in a different outfit than usual, but sharp red eyes could still see the edge of a white sleeve under the hem of the rooster’s long dark red coat that was zipped up all the way to the top, the brown fur-lined hood resting on his shoulders. While his pants were black like usual, they were thicker and reminded the loon of ski pants. The black gloves and dark red sunburst style boots (again, who chooses these names?) lined with fur that matched his hood completed the look.

Holding out one thermos for the darker bird to take, Steelbeak took a sip of coffee from his own and gave his partner a knowing grin. “Took ya long enough. C’mon, we gotta get goin’ ‘fore it gets too late.”

Dominic gladly took the thermos and its energy-granting contents, pleased as always to find it prepared exactly how he liked it- today’s batch even had traces of peppermint, which brought a small smile to the loon’s dark beak before he followed the rooster to the elevator at the end of the hallway. “Too late for what, exactly? The sun shouldn’t be up for another two hours.” He still had plenty of questions that had yet to be answered.

“Exactly.” A black-gloved finger pressed the button for the elevator, its owner smiling over the minor victory of the doors opening immediately rather than having to wait for them. “That’s why we gotta be back before then in case High Command calls.”

“Wait..” Dominic followed the taller man into the elevator, but made his confusion over their early departure transparently clear. “If High Command hasn’t called yet, then why are we leaving?”

The loon’s answer was that same knowing grin from before- the one that both frustrated him for being out of the loop regarding whatever was going on but also intrigued him because Steelbeak didn’t normally keep secrets (at least, not from HIM) for very long and usually shared whatever juicy bit of information or despicable plan was rattling around in his devious brain. “All you need t’ know is that it’s VERY important an’ you’re gonna be glad we left early. Trust me.” Well THAT just left the shorter bird with even MORE questions. Unfortunately, any further inquiries were put on hold once the elevator doors opened again and the duo stepped out into the parking garage. “We’re takin’ my car ‘til yours stops smellin’ like a mermaid’s bedroom.”

Dominic had no problems with that and willingly followed the other fowl to his overly flashy car- he wasn’t really in the mood to drive and probably wouldn’t be until he’d gotten through his first coffee. “Do I even want to ask how you know what that would smell like?”

“I’ve been ‘round the block a few times. Let’s just hope we don’t get any missions in the south pacific anytime soon.” Steelbeak’s chuckle made it hard to tell if he was joking or not, a typical part of his sense of humor that Dominic had gotten used to over the past five months of their relationship. He made a mental note to ask about the alleged mermaid encounter another time while the two of them got settled into their seats. “Put this on.”

Looking up from buckling his seatbelt, red eyes widened in mild disbelief when he saw the fabric being presented to him. “A blindfold?” Thinking he’d perhaps jumped to conclusions too soon, Dominic looked over the long strip of black silk with a gaudy pink heart pattern once again, but, no, it was definitely a blindfold, albeit a rather tacky one that made half of his mind want to ask why the other man had something like that in his possession…and the other half had a feeling it already knew... “Why-”

“I’m aductin’ ya.” The taller fowl jokingly said with that infuriatingly intriguing grin. “But you’re gonna love it, trust me.”

Red eyes rolled in feigned annoyance as Dominic took the blindfold with his free hand, but didn’t make any moves to put it on just yet. “And why, exactly, should I ‘trust you’ and impair my vision after you’ve admitted to abducting me?”

“ ‘cause you’d still kick my butt, even if ya couldn’t see it.” Well, yes, that was definitely true…and this was Steelbeak he was dealing with- the man hadn’t given him any reason not to trust him sine they’d started going out…

……

…………

“….Fine..” Setting his coffee down momentarily, Dominic tied the tacky silk over his eyes and leaned back in the passenger’s seat once he had the thermos back in his hands. “If you try anything, you’re hand is going straight into the bay…without the rest of you going in after it.”

Though he could no longer see it, the loon could easily hear the smirk in the metal-mouthed fowl’s voice as the car rumbled to life around him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, short-fuse.”

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

It was hard to tell how long they’d been driving with his vision obstructed, but Dominic had finished his coffee by the time he felt the car shut off. “Can I take this ridiculous thing off yet?”

There was a beat of silence, as if the vehicle’s other occupant was giving the question serious thought. “Hmmm…yeah, I guess so..” Before the white gloved fingers could start on the knot, however, an addendum was added to the previous comment. “But don’t open your eyes.”

Even with his eyes covered, Dominic hoped that the glare he was sending the other bird’s direction would still be noticeable. “I hope you know my patience is wearing thin. You’d better have a good reason for waking me up before dawn, dragging me out of bed, and taking me on a joyride without giving me ANY-”

“I’ve got a good reason. I promise.” Steelbeak’s voice was resolute. His tone betrayed no signs of mischief or ill intent, not that Dominic really expected there to be any, but it was still somewhat reassuring to hear it, anyway... “You’re just..gonna have t’ trust me on this one, Deedee.”

Dominic was prepared to argue the point, or simply take the blindfold off and be done with the whole charade (yesterday’s disasters combined with his unexpected awakening didn’t have him in the best of moods)……but that pause in Steelbeak’s last sentence gave him pause, as well.

The larger man didn’t sound as confident as he had leading up to this point. He sounded almost…hesitant? Uncertain? It was hard to say. Either way, it sounded more like he was asking for Dominic to trust him, rather than demanding it, but it was almost as if he wasn’t sure he’d be given such a thing…

“……” Taking in a very slow, deliberate breath before exhaling it in equal measure, the white gloved fingers finally began their task of untying the blindfold. “Fine.” Once the silk was gone, red eyes remained firmly shut. “But my earlier statement still stands.”

He heard a brief chuckle, but this one sounded relieved rather than amused. “Don’t worry, you’ll like this, I promise.” The car door on his left opened and shut, followed by a minute of silence before his own door opened. He felt a light tug on the blindfold still being clutched in his hand. “This way.”

Dominic followed his partner’s lead out of the vehicle, hearing the door close behind him once he was far enough away. He heard a brief click afterwards, as if something had been opened, but couldn’t tell what it was. As he was lead further away from the car, he noticed an odd sound and sensation below his boots- the ground beneath him was…crunchy? That was the only way he could think to describe it- crunchy in sound and loose in texture. “Where exactly are we?” He thought for a moment they were at the beach, but the sand there wouldn’t make this sort of noise. It…kind of felt like-

There was a creaking sound, like something heavy and metallic being pushed open. “Why don’t ya open up those pretty red eyes of yours an’ see for yourself?”

Taking the other man’s advice and doing so, Dominic’s red eyes finally opened for the first time since he’d gotten into the car with his partner, and what he saw momentarily took his breath away before it was exhaled in a visible puff.

The two fowls were standing just inside the gates of the very same park they went to during their first date. While it was still dark out with only the dim lighting of the street lamps providing any visibility, there was one very noticeable difference this time:

Snow.

Every inch of the park- and the city as a whole, it seemed- was covered in a thick blanket of snow. The park’s grassy fields had been completely buried under the fluffy white precipitation, as had the walking trails and sidewalks in and around the park. The trees and other shrubbery resembled cotton balls with how thoroughly their foliage had been coated, and in the distance Dominic could even see that the lake had frozen over. There were already so many of the beautifully cold flakes scattered about, and even more still falling from the thick, dark clouds above that showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Curious as to how he hadn’t felt the falling snow sooner, the loon’s red eyes drifted up and finally took notice of the large black and white striped umbrella above him. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw his partner watching him with an amused yet fond smile while holding the umbrella with his free hand.

The expression brought a slight flush to the darker bird’s cheeks that, even if it were noticeable, he’d blame on the cold if he was ever called out for it. “H-How-” He had even more questions now than before he’d gotten in the car, and, downplaying the slight stutter to his speech by clearing his throat and pretending it was just a dry throat from the cold air, he was intent on finally receiving some answers. “How is this possible? The reports all said it was supposed to be sunny today.”

Steelbeak shrugged one shoulder, the grin on his gleaming beak betraying the words that left it. “Y’know how unpredictable the weather is ‘round here…‘specially with all the supervillains runnin’ ‘round changin’ things just ‘cause they feel like it.” Apparently deciding the umbrella was no longer needed after the big reveal of his surprise, Steelbeak closed it and set it by the park gate. “Or, y’know, if someone offers ‘em a few million big ones t’ start a snowstorm and ‘suggests’ a few choice places t’ hit up an’ keep any annoyin’ superheroes busy.”

Dominic followed the lighter bird as he ventured deeper into the park, giving him a curious look accompanied by a quirked brow. “If you made all of this happen, then why was it so important to get out here this early? We could’ve waited until the sun was up.”

Hands now resting comfortably in the pockets of his coat, Steelbeak gave another calm shrug. “I dunno ‘bout you, but I don’t exactly trust the ‘freaky four’ t’ practice things like restraint.” Dark eyes glanced up at the thick clouds and the still plentiful amount of snow falling down on the city below. “At the rate this stuff’s fallin’, I figure we got about three hours before the snow drifts get taller than you…short fuse.” He side-eyed the loon with a smirk. Red eyes rolled as Dominic shook his head, choosing to ignore the jab at his height compared to his monumentally tall partner. (Honestly, though, who didn’t seem short compared to him?) “And..” The loon’s attention returned to the other fowl when he heard the slightly softer, less sef-assured tone in Steelbeak’s voice. Steelbeak was glancing away now, a bit of red visible beneath his off-white cheek feathers. “I..know ya love this stuff…figured you’d wanna come out an’ have some fun before the whole town gets snowed in…plus there’d be no one out this early, less people around an’ all that…”

It was once again Dominic’s turn to blush. Any irritation he’d felt from his unplanned awakening was forgotten almost instantly. Now that he had a chance to look at- really look at- his partner, he noticed the things he’d missed earlier in the chaotic whirlwind of events leading up to this point: His feathers had clearly not been preened since his shower the previous night. His comb wasn’t standing up quite as straight as it usually did. His eyes were bloodshot, albeit only slightly- he must’ve taken eye drops at some point to hide it. His eyes also had dark circles under them that indicated-

“You didn’t sleep last night.” Although the red-eyed fowl was truly touched by how much thought Steelbeak put into all of this, he still couldn’t help but ask- “Why?” He elaborated further when he was met with a confused look from the taller bird. “Why go to all this trouble?”

The question made a grin appear once more on the metal-mouthed rooster’s beak. “C’mon, stripes, between the two of us, YOU’RE the one that actually WENT t’ school.” He chuckled, the grin on his face practically beaming. “Thought you’d know what a ‘snow day’ was.”

“A..snow day?” Wow, that was a term Dominic hadn’t heard since his school days.

“Ding, ding! Startin’ t’ ring any bells yet, wise guy?” Steelbeak teased as the pair walked over the park’s snowy trail (or at least what one could assume to be since it was slightly lower than the ground around it). Once he’d had his laugh, though, the rooster’s grin softened into something calmer. “High Command needed a sunny day t’ make their plan work- no sun, no stupid eight AM mission, so we get the day off. Plus, even if High Command decides they wanna try somethin’ else, they’re gonna need time t’ come up with a new plan an’ send a helicopter t’ pick us up since the streets’ll be too buried t’ drive by then, so we get plenty of time t’ relax an’ enjoy breakfast when we get back.” One dark gray eye winked down at the loon playfully. “Sounds like a win-win, if ya ask me.”

Darn, that grin was infectious. “A win-win indeed.” Dominic’s own dark beak soon lit up with a smile as he nodded in wholehearted agreement. He had to give credit where it was due- that was a very well thought out and expertly executed plan. “I have to say, I’m impressed you came up with all of this so quickly.”

“Hey, I didn’t get t’ be Chief Officer just ‘cause of my good looks- there’s a pretty big brain behind this gorgeous mug.” Ah, and there was that cocky grin and wink followed by the exaggeratedly “flirtatious” eyebrow wiggle that never failed to make the loon laugh.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Dominic wasn’t sure how, but he managed to get the whole sentence out with only a few quiet, barely restrained chuckles slipping in. If there was one thing that Steelbeak knew how to do, it was make his partner smile and laugh and feel a hundred times lighter than he had before.

After the misery of the previous day, Dominic decided, he’d gladly take this much more pleasant alternative.

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

The deadly duo spent a while simply walking around and admiring the fresh-fallen, undisturbed beauty of the snow covered park. It felt so much like their first date- the two of them just walking around, conversing freely, enjoying one another’s company without anyone around to bother them; he’d even talked Steelbeak into ice skating with him over the frozen lake and was pleased to see that the rooster’s balance had improved considerably, only needing to be helped up a handful of times.

While it felt similar, though, it also felt like a completely different experience altogether. Back then, they’d still been getting to know each other, getting used to one another. Now, they were still learning things about each other, but there was a greater feeling of familiarity, as well as a sense of comfort that came from that familiarity. There were still boundaries they were discovering and learning how to work around, but it was leaps and bounds from where they were before that night almost half a year ago.

As he passed beneath a tree off of the park trail, Dominic’s musing on his relationship with his partner was stopped by a sudden clump of snow falling onto his hat.

He tipped his head back, looking up at the glistening branches curiously and allowing the frozen flakes still resting on his hat to fall off. Well, the tree WAS heavily coated with snow and ice, a stray breeze could have-

Another clump of snow, this one rounder and more firmly packed, descended at a slight curve- as if it had been thrown from somewhere behind him- towards him and hit the surprised loon in the face before he had time to move away. “!!” Brushing the snow from his eyes, he looked back over his shoulder at the only other person in the park. “I saw that..”

Steelbeak, who’d stopped a few feet away from the tree to kneel down and adjust one of his boots, gave the loon a slightly raised brow and his best attempt at an earnestly confused expression. “Saw what?” His attempt at faking innocence would have been much more effective if it wasn’t clear that he was holding back a smile and that one of his gloves still had snow on it.

Oh, so he wanted to play games, huh? Fine. Dominic could play, too. “Nevermind…must have been my imagination…”

Stepping closer to the tree, one of the loon’s hands was freed from its glove- his back to the rooster as he walked around the base to keep it out of his sight. After slipping the glove into his pocket, his still-gloved fingers trailed along the snow-covered tree. From an outside perspective, it would look like he was idly tracing simple patterns into the powdery snow of the trunk. In reality, however, he was readying his ammunition. By the time there was enough snow accumulated in his covered palm, Dominic had reached the other side of the tree and was able to quickly transfer it into his other hand without being noticed. A quick packing between both hands and the sharpshooter had his weapon locked and loaded.

When he suddenly made a sharp turn and jumped back out the way he came, Dominic was not at all surprised to see Steelbeak waiting with another sizable clump of snow in his hands, clearly prepared to throw it at the other side of the large tree with his hands raised over his head.

Steelbeak, on the other hand, was very surprised to see the loon doubling back and catching him in the act. So surprised, in fact, that he didn’t have time to dodge the snowball that was sent hurtling towards him. “!!!” The snowball found its target’s face, causing said target to let out a startled squawk from literally going snow-blind. The whole ordeal made his hands move just enough to turn his own weapon against him, the clump of snow that was once above him now falling all over his head and torso. “Hey, no fair! Cheap shot!”

Dominic smirked at the prone rooster, quickly forming more ammunition and ducking behind the tree for cover while his “enemy” was busy shaking and wiping snow off of himself. “I was merely returning the favor- now we’re even.”

With his vision restored and most of the snow removed, Steelbeak smirked as well and readied another oversized snowball. “Well, it ain’t gonna stay that way for long.”

And with that, the war had begun. The entire park quickly became a battleground as two expertly trained secret agents crafted and launched their handmade weapons at one another.

Dominic had the clear advantage- snow was his favorite weather and he was truly in his element. The aquatic fowl was able to quickly craft practically perfect spheres from the terrain around him and throw them with pin-point accuracy. The tree he’d stationed himself behind made for good cover between shots, allowing him to safely stockpile ammunition and retreat when he was under heavy fire. From time to time, he’d dart out and weave between the surrounding foliage to fire off multiple shots and even slid across the lake a few times to stay ahead of his adversary.

Steelbeak, on the other hand, was clearly not as used to interacting with the frozen liquids he attempted to wield. The metal mouthed fowl didn’t have the finesse (or apparently the knowledge to take off his gloves and use the heat of his hands to melt the dry flakes) to craft small snowballs, and instead scooped up large quantities of the loose powder and form what could only be described as “snow cannonballs”. These larger projectiles took more time to make and weren’t as precise as his quick-footed and quick-witted rival’s smaller spheres, but they were capable of devastating damage when they managed to hit and knocked the slippery sharpshooter off of his feet more than once.

The battle raged for longer than either combatant cared to keep track of, the once pristine park now full of holes and gashes from their wintery war. The two snow covered fowls laughed and shot comebacks at one another along with their projectiles. It was certainly a sight to behold- a duo of deadly spies who carried out assassinations and mass slaughters of enemies on a regular basis now using their battle skills and instincts to throw balls of snow at each other with the excitement of school children. If anyone from work- be it an eggman, fellow agent, or Darkwing Duck himself- were to see the well-known chief officer of FOWL and his normally stern, red-eyed-glare wielding partner and tell others what they’d witnessed, chances were that no one would ever believe them.

Dominic himself could hardly believe it, but he was having far too much fun to stop. Retreating back to the trunk of his chosen shelter, the loon managed to hit Steelbeak’s large and vibrant tail feathers with his last snowball before working rapidly to replenish his supply.

“Yeow!” Steelbeak yelped from the packed precipitation striking his perfectly plumaged posterior. “Ohh, you’re gonna get it for that one!”

From his hiding spot, Dominic could hear the larger bird making another of his plus-sized snowballs. “We’ll see about that!” He parroted the other man’s earlier words over his shoulder while topping off his ammo cache. Confident he could dodge whatever size the lighter fowl’s newest snow monstrosity happened to be, Dominic left his makeshift fort and prepared to fire off his more manageable artillery.

His confidence was immediately shaken by the small-boulder sized chunk of snow hitting his face with enough force to send him toppling into a deep snow bank.

It took a minute for Dominic’s world to stop spinning, and a few more seconds for his senses to return enough to realize that the hazy white blur he saw was snow piled around his head and (thankfully) not spotty vision caused by a concussion. As he sat up, the loon shook the snow off of himself, needing to retrieve his nearly camouflaged hat from the white mound.

His attention was soon stolen, however, by the menacing shadow that was cast over him. Looking up, red eyes widened at the sight of his opponent holding an absolutely MASSIVE chunk of snow even larger than the last one over his head with a smirk. “Any last words, wise guy?”

Hands planting themselves against the ground behind him in preparation to run or fight back, Dominic’s gaze darted rapidly around his surroundings. There had to be a way out of this!

Then, he found it- his bare hand touching something textured and rough hidden within the snow. Looking back up at the tree above them, a plan at last formed in the clever fowl’s fiendish mind. He’d only have one shot at this…

Gripping the object he’d found, Dominic smirked while making eye contact with the unaware rooster. “Yes…but would it be in bad taste to say ‘freeze’?” Without any further explanation, the loon’s bare hand emerged from its hiding place in the snow to briefly reveal the stick it was clutching before throwing it at a sharp angle that just barely missed the other fowl’s head.

“What the-?!” Steelbeak, at first thinking the projectile was meant for him, instinctively ducked to avoid it, nearly dropping the colossal cold-ball clutched in his hands. Thinking himself safe, he smirked back down at the presumed-defenseless loon beneath him. “Your aim’s slippin’, Deedee- ya missed.”

“Oh, I don’t miss.” The darker bird replied with a wicked smirk before putting his weight back onto his arms and rolling the extra foot he needed to avoid what was about to happen.

Following the other man’s red-eyed gaze up to the tree he was still standing beneath, Steelbeak’s own dark eyes widened at the sight of the stick Dominic had thrown striking the completely-snow-covered top of the tree. By now, there was so much of the frozen precipitation accumulated on its branches that it looked nearly twice its normal size. This made the realization of what was about to happen all the more chilling- in more than just the literal sense.

“Hmph…well played, stripes..” Was all Steelbeak could get out before the domino effect came into play. The disturbed snow on top of the tree fell, falling into and shaking the snow on the next branch. This pattern cascaded down through every level of the tree, resulting in a miniature avalanche that left the large fowl buried under an even larger mound of snow before he had time to run away.

The backdraft of air and snow was strong enough that Dominic had to shield his eyes with his gloved hand, holding onto his hat with the other to keep it from blowing away. Peeking out once the air had settled, a pleased smirk found its way to the loon’s beak as he observed his handiwork: The entire base of the tree and a good portion of the trunk were now buried in snow. Where his opponent once stood was crumpled lump in the mound of white flakes with no sign he was alive other than the single black-gloved hand sticking straight up like a flag- one of surrender, the loon mused jokingly.

Deciding it would be best for everyone if the taller man didn’t catch hypothermia or pneumonia, Dominic figured it would be best to show mercy for once and dig his fallen adversary out of his precipitated prison. Dawning his second glove once again, white-covered hands made short work of shoveling the equally white powder away from the lump beneath the extended black glove. After a minute or two, he found a gleaming metal beak within the snow, and soon the rest of the head attached to it became visible.

Dark grey eyes blinked the world into focus as their owner looked up dramatically. “Wow, think I finally found the light at the end of the tunnel.” The same eyes glanced over at his rescuer, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smirk. “Gotta say, you’re not quite what I expected an angel t’ look like……but I ain’t complainin’.”

Dominic returned the look in kind and winked down at the still partially buried man beneath him. “Keep it up and I’ll send you to heaven my way.” A quiet laugh shook the smaller bird’s shoulders as he shook his head with an undeniably fond smile. “While I do admire your ability to flirt while half frozen, frostbite isn’t exactly charming- let’s get you out of there, shall we?”

With a quiet chuckle of his own, Steelbeak started sitting up to extricate himself from his icy prison. “Yeah, probably for the best..think I feel my tail feathers freezin’ o-” He froze (not literally for now), eyes blinking in surprise as they looked from the loon’s face down to his own hand that was still sticking out of the snow.

Clasped firmly around the rooster’s large black-gloved hand was a smaller one clad in white.

Dominic knew what the other’s look was about and why the normally talkative man had gone uncharacteristically silent. “It’s fine.” He offered with a small but reassuring smile before digging his heels into the snow and pulling the other man back up onto his feet.

Once he was back to his usual towering six and half foot (seven if his comb was counted) height, Steelbeak looked down at the hand still clasped around his own with an expression somewhere between elated and nervous. “So…am I ‘bout t’ go swimmin’ in the bay after that..?”

Dominic shook his head, giving the larger palm in his own a light squeeze for reassurance. “Not this time. I want to keep it around for now.”

The nervousness left the lighter fowl’s expression, leaving him with a smile that tried its best to look calm but was undermined by the excited gleam in his dark eyes. “Keep it for as long as ya want, red eyes.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” The loon gave a softer smile, two sets of fingers in contrasting colors lacing and locking together as if it were their natural state.

Steelbeak, as well as many other individuals within FOWL, were well aware of Dominic’s “quirk”, as High Command liked to call it. After witnessing the loon lose it more than once on some poor, unsuspecting fool that made the innocent mistake of putting their hand on the touch-triggered bird the wrong way, the chief officer had made it a mental priority to always be mindful of his partner’s contact-based aggression and avoid touching him without warning, even after they’d started dating. He never made any “moves” on the darker fowl like he would with the girls he’d “dated” in the past- no sneaky arm finding its way around an unaware shoulder or waist, no sudden brush of fingers along the side of a striped neck, or even a suave attempt to steal a kiss. The rooster had a front-row seat to multiple showings of what the shorter man could do when someone didn’t properly respect his personal space, and he was determined to never be anything more than an observer if he could help it. He’d only taken what he was given and never even made a move to hold the aquatic avian’s hand.

While Dominic was definitely grateful for Steelbeak’s cautious-patience and respect for his boundaries, he felt the taller man fretted a bit too much about it from time to time. They’d been together for months now, seen each other through countless moments both life-threateningly dangerous and calmingly domestic. At this point, out of everyone in his life, his partner was the one person he felt the most confident that he wouldn’t hurt with one of his violent outbursts.

The discomfort would always be there in the back of his mind, Dominic knew this from the time he’d spent with his last partner and the others he’d dated before, but it was worth it for the warm feeling that bloomed within him. The contact was diluted by both of their gloves, allowing him to feel and familiarize himself with the sensation of Steelbeak’s palm and fingers against his own without letting the discomfort build up too much. He knew he would want more soon, and he could tell from the longing looks he’d caught when the rooster let his guard down from time to time that Steelbeak wanted it as well, but, right here, right now, it was enough for both of them to stand in the snow together with their fingers entwined.

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

The pair of snow-covered agents arrived back home just in the nick of time, giving themselves about fifteen minutes to change out of their winter attire, rid themselves of any traces of their pre-dawn excursion, and throw their usual coats on over top of more casual clothes to give off the image of readiness. They staged themselves in Steelbeak’s living room, acting like they were about to leave just in time for the communication screen to turn itself on.

“Chief Officer Steelbeak, Agent Domino.” The usual speaking member of High Command looked less than pleased. “There’s been a change of plans.”

Dominic, doing an excellent job of feigning ignorance, looked at his leader with a confused expression, one brow raised inquisitively. “Why? Did something happen to the device?” From the corner of his eye, he caught Steelbeak trying not to smirk and barely succeeding.

The silhouetted person shook his head with a scowl. “The Fearsome Four decided to bury the entire state in a snow storm. The mission is cancelled for now, but be ready in case the weather changes.”

Receiving a “Yes, sir” from both agents, the screen went dark once more.

Steelbeak gave his partner a knowing smirk. “Somethin’ tells me this storm ain’t stoppin’ for a while. How ‘bout we get nice an’ comfy ‘til then?”

Dominic gave a knowing smirk of his own. “Of course- we’ll need to save our strength for when it clears.”

There was a beat of silence before both of their expressions melted into amused grins and they laughed quietly over their flawless performance. The pair took off their coats and hung them on Steelbeak’s coat rack to enjoy their more comfortable attire- Dominic wearing a soft red turtleneck sweater and Steelbeak sporting a light grey long-sleeved Henley style shirt (again, who gets payed to pick these names?) with dark blue trim and a pair of slightly darker grey sweatpants.

Within half an hour they’d lit a fire in Steelbeak’s fireplace- Dominic withheld his remarks about how unnecessarily extravagant it was to have a fireplace in an apartment complex with fully functioning heat since, begrudgingly, he had to admit it was appropriately cozy on a day like this- and the loon was seated patiently in the same spot as last night while his partner brought him a more substantial breakfast than his earlier coffee.

As he waited, Dominic brought the tall mug in his hands to his lips and took a sip with a pleased hum. While it didn’t have the same kick as his previous drink, he wasn’t about to complain about the creamy hot chocolate Steelbeak had prepared for him- the kind made by pouring hot milk and cream over chocolate until it melted, not “that watered down powdered garbage” as the rooster would put it- especially not when he’d made him a peppermint one with red striped marshmallows. There were even bits of crushed candy cane coating the rim and a pair of full sized candy canes hanging from the edge. Picking one up by its crook, the content loon used the candy to briefly stir his drink and melt into it before popping it into his mouth and happily eating the remains.

Dominic had once mentioned to Steelbeak that candy canes were a preferred treat during winter when they’d been having a conversation about comfort food. The peppermint sticks were a childhood favorite- a preference that was quite fortunate since many places gave the sweet treats out for free once the “holiday spirit” began to spread, making it an easy to obtain a bit of food when his mother was unable to provide more than the bare minimum needed for the two of them to survive. His love for the striped sweets continued into adulthood, giving him a fondness for the simple candy whenever the season came about.

That bit of information had only been shared between the two once, but it was apparently enough for Steelbeak to plan ahead and keep a box of candy canes handy in his large pantry. He’d never admit he went out and purchased them simply because his partner liked them, though, even if he himself wasn’t as big of a fan of peppermint (that little prank on their first date probably didn’t help much).

This, Dominic had realized some time ago, was something Steelbeak did often- holding onto small, seemingly inconsequential bits of information and using them to surprise his partner later. Dominic mentions his favorite color while they’re making fun of a ridiculous fashion model show? He receives a new shirt in that color a few weeks later. Dominic makes a disgusted face and shudders upon seeing a cockroach while they’re in a warehouse? Steelbeak suddenly starts killing or removing any insects he sees when they’re together. Dominic mentions on their first date that he enjoys snow and ice skating? His partner pays supervillains to alter the weather and takes him out early to enjoy it properly.

It may have been an instinct developed after spending nearly two decades as a spy- information had value in their line of work, after all- or it may have simply been a trait unique to Steelbeak himself. Either way, Dominic found it extremely endearing and was grateful for his partner’s memory and small acts of care & consideration.

A plate fresh cinnamon rolls and blueberries being set on the coffee table in front of him brought Dominic’s gaze up to look at the very man who’d been occupying his thoughts.

Steelbeak, balancing a matching plate in one hand and a large mug of hot chocolate in the other, winked down at the loon as he set his own breakfast on the table near his end of the couch. “Told ya I had breakfast taken care of, Dom.”

“A good thing you did, too- I’m famished.” Dominic set his mug on the table and exchanged it for one of the enticingly large rolls on his plate. “I’ll pay you back by taking care of lunch.”

Steelbeak chuckled, knowing he wouldn’t win if he tried to argue. “Fine. But we split the difference at dinner. Deal?”

“Deal.” Dominic agreed with a quiet chuckle of his own before digging into his roll.

The pair sat and ate in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying their sweet treats and warm drinks in front of the crackling fire. Once they were finished, Dominic volunteered to take care of the dishes, despite Steelbeak’s adamant insistence that he didn’t need to- again, though, he knew he wouldn’t win once the other man stated he was going to take care of it.

When Dominic returned to the living room, he was surprised to see Steelbeak had wrapped himself in a large, heavily padded quilt in the time he’d been away. “Still feeling cold?”

“Kinda..” Steelbeak yawned and pulled the blanket tighter around himself, his legs drawn up under it as he sat curled up on the couch. “That an’ my adrenaline an’ coffee finally ran out…” Off-white fingers rubbed at extremely tired dark gray eyes. “Think I’m gonna be outta commission ‘til lunch…won’t hold it against ya if ya head back t’ your place.”

Dominic considered it for a moment, but eventually shook his head and picked up a book he’d left on one of Steelbeak’s end tables during his last visit. “I think I’ll stay.”

Steelbeak shrugged, settling in for a much needed nap. “Suit yourself, stripes..” His eyes were nearly closed when a weight against his side made them flutter open once more. “Hm..?”

Rather than take his usual spot at the opposite end of the couch, Dominic had opted to sit right next to Steelbeak- to the point where he was sitting sideways with his head reclined against the rooster’s blanket-covered shoulder and his legs were spread out over the empty cushions.

“Just getting comfortable.” Was the only explanation he needed to give.

Both men had soft, content smiles on their faces as they settled in for some much needed relaxation. They intended to enjoy their snow day as much as possible by doing as little as possible. After all, with this city’s unpredictable weather, who’s to say when they’ll get another chance?

Then again, Dominic thought as he opened his book to its marked page, perhaps the weather in St Canard wasn’t that bad.

End Notes: Hope you all enjoyed this wintery fun filled fic and have a happy holiday season =^.^=

#darkwing duck #dwd #Steelbeak #Dominic Domino #steeldomino #darkwing duck oc #dwd oc #not my oc #thefriendlyfour

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