#this is just scraping the surface i am too tired to write out a whole essay dhsd

[thief-of-eggs]

I started writing a Timkon reverse robins AU where Tim is Redhood!!

I likely won’t get around to finishing it, but I wanted to post a snippet here <33

Kon hears the exact moment that Tim’s heart stops beating. One second it’s there, just as it always has been- present in the back of his thoughts, a pendulum keeping time with Kon’s own life itself.

The next moment it’s slowed. It beats at a tired pace, each thunk not as strong as it was before. Kon has half a second to panic, his thoughts going haywire as he attempts to locate the source of his friend’s beating heart-

And then it’s gone. Silence fills the space in Kon’s mind that was once Tim’s pulse. His chest feels hollow, his mind a blank slate.

He doesn’t need his telescope vision to see that it’s true- he can feel it. The goodness has been sucked out of this earth by death’s hungry mouth, the light plucked right out of the sky and swallowed down whole.

He doesn’t remember falling, but he feels the ground beneath his fingers. Energy envelopes his body, his grief a warm embrace- and then it bursts out of him. In a physical wave of energy, his TTK extends from him.

A single, out of control explosion. That’s all he has to show for the death of his world.

And then he falls apart.

—-

Tim crawls his way from his grave.

It’s not pretty. It’s not a breeze.

Dirt cakes under his finger nails. Blood drips from his scraped knuckles.

There are claw marks on the inside of his coffin. Formerly occupied, now shockingly empty, a jagged hole gaping at the top.

Tim doesn’t feel anything as he climbs to the surface of the earth. He feels everything.

He feels numb. He feels like he’s on fire.

His mind is a black hole of nothingness, every thought only half forming before it is washed away.

He thinks he has to tell someone something. Thinks there’s someone important he’s meant to go see.

He can’t remember. Nothing works in his pounding head, his senses aching, his vision blurry.

Tim doesn’t press it. He pulls himself out from the dirt.

And begins walking.

——

At four AM on a rainy Tuesday morning, Kon Kent jolts awake in his bed.

There’s a pounding in his ears. A soft thud, so familiar, yet impossibly so.

He hasn’t heard that particular rhythm since…

No.

He won’t let himself go down that hole. It’s dark down there, suffocating. It’s emptiness and pain too acute to bear.

Kon stuffs his pillow over his head, cursing his too-keen hearing. It’s just a coincidence. Nothing to work himself up over.

He closes his eyes, and fights to fall back asleep.

[mountain-wire]

6, 7, 8, 9, and 10, here's to the last man on Earth in the end.

Au!Raphael x gn!Reader

Part 2

Another part! Hopefully it's good! I'm too tired to proofread it, so I am deeply sorry if anything sounds stupid.

Once again, series based off of Anna Bates song "Last man on Earth" and a random writing prompt I saw months ago.

An au set where the reader has ended up immortal and as the last man on earth due to a medicine that everyone had to take that was meant to lengthen human life[spoilers: it didn't.], until... actual alien turtles show up. That's basically it.

Well your muscles were certainly aching. Were you stopping? No. No you weren't going to, not until your legs gave out. You thought before that you'd stop when your muscles really started to ache. You changed your mind. As much as you wanted to stop, you didn't want to be anywhere near the turtle being thing. You'd be lucky if it didn't chase you, especially with how you ran away immediately.

The sky was darkening and all you could hear was wind as it whistled by. The scenery around you mostly trees from what you could tell. You were far from buildings. Was this deep into central park or did you manage to run out of the city? The first one seemed more plausible, but then again, you didn't know how far your home was from the outskirts of New York.

Breathing felt like the hardest thing to do right now. You weren't sure how long you were running but it felt like both forever and seconds at the same time. Everything felt gross, even your surroundings, and your surroundings weren't even running. Things were blurry and unfamiliar to you, but you didn't think it was because you hadn't been here before. You were sure you had.

You could feel your legs slowing, you were stumbling, and everything was heavy, like you'd strapped weights to all of your limbs and forced yourself to run a marathon.

This was going to hurt.

Down with the royal! You've fallen, scraping every available skin you thought you had. Did the ground have to be the most gravelly surface you'd come in contact with? It didn't feel like that when you were running, where did all these rocks come from.

"Fuck! Damnit!" You hissed out as well as you could, feeling like you were rolling still.

Obviously, you haven't been rolling in the dirt the past 20 seconds, so why'd it still feel like you were moving? Probably the running actually. Your mind foggy, you could barely even hear your next thoughts. You wondered if the turtle guy actually did follow you. What would it do? Would it really be horrible if you passed out right now, took a quick little nap? Listening was hard but you knew you needed to, if the turtle did follow you, you'd need to hear it and be able to get up and keep running.

You couldn't hear much. Just a bunch of wind and trees. There was that little bite at your mind telling you there was something else you heard but you weren't going to believe it. Not this time.

Maybe you should've. As everything turned to the feeling of moving water you actually did hear something new, a few quiet but heavy thumps some feet away from you.

That better just be a really big deer.

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

Your eyes opened, and you couldn't see where you were. It was all blurry, like you put a gaussian blur filter over your eyes. Trying to move your body felt like being stabbed every millimeter it actually moved. Wincing, you powered through it, and sat up. What you remembered from before you passed out was that you were running, and in unfamiliar territory. You felt like retracing your steps, but when you rubbed off the blurriness you realized you weren't near where you passed out. You'd remember if you ended up passing out next to a whole ass fountain.

This was not where you were, where were you? What happened, and how did you get here? You racked your mind trying to remember what happened just before you went lights out, you couldn't remember close enough to when you actually passed out and it was freaking you out.

You tried standing as normally as you could, which didn't go well. You fell down immediately, your legs and shoulders feeling like you dipped them in acid then poked everywhere you could with pins. You tried again, with the fountain for support this time. The result was just about the same, you got further up but that was about it. You'd have to sit and wait. At least it looked like the fountain has water in it. It was better than nothing.

Deciding to try and figure out how you got here with just your mind power you went back to thinking about last night. That also brought up another thought, what time was it? You looked around, analyzing your surroundings while looking for the sun. The leaves around you seemed to be growing on the destroyed remains of a building, so you were at least in New York again. The glass was tinted with greens, matching with the vines and flowers that managed to grow on it. It was really quite pretty, the sun shines through all of it amazingly, casting beautiful sun rays all around. Oh right, the sun!

It looked close to the middle of the sky, you weren't going to stare at it so you couldn't really tell which way it was going. Either way it was close to noon, how long did that mean you were out for? It was only just starting to get dark so more than 12 hours. At least that's cleared up.

You've never been a sleepwalker, at least not after the 1st year of total loneliness, so that was almost entirely not what happened. You remember running, you fell and listened around you... Oh. The thumps. There's still a chance it wasn't the turtle. You don't have to freak out yet. Whatever it was seemed to have moved you here. You couldn't help but wonder how far it took you, and why it took you just to leave you here. Now you had an entirely new set of questions to focus on.

Unfortunately you didn't have long to ponder them, as you started hearing the thumps again, along with rustling leaves and plants. You scrambled, looking for a place to at least hide before whatever it was popped out of the bushes at you. Even if you found a hiding spot you didn't think you could move fast enough to reach it, so you resorted to hiding behind the fountain as well as you could. You listened to the thumps, hearing where they came from and moving as well as you could to the opposite side of the fountain. 

You definitely weren't on the complete opposite side, but you hoped it would work well enough. Listening closely, the rustling came to an end as you assumed the thing arrived in the building. Right now you would love to peek over the fountain, but with how little there is to look at in the general area you'd be seen almost immediately.

Another few moments of silence before you heard a sigh and then moving once more. It wasn't moving away, it was moving closer. You weren't surprised, but you were definitely upset. As it rounded the fountain it saw you, just sort of scrunched up against the side of the not-very-good-hiding-spot fountain. You let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding and fell to the ground again, there was no point in even trying if you couldn't get further than the fountain in 30 seconds.

It was definitely the turtle, obviously it would be the turtle. You seemed to alarm it, as it moved closer in what looked like a worried way. Looking at it with the hardest glare you could muster, you moved your arms to what felt like a dead body in a coffin. The turtle, though hesitant, still moved to your side, seeming to check over you for a second.

It jumbled something out you couldn't understand, it sounded similar to English but it was scrambled. Maybe that's it's language? Did it think you could understand it?

"What?" You wondered if it understood you either.

A second passed without any noise from either of you, the turtle seemed to be thinking about it, hopefully realizing you didn't speak the language it did. It mumbled something, that even if it were English you didn't think you'd be able to understand it, then reached out for your shoulder. You wanted to hit it's hand away, but you weren't sure what that would accomplish. It pulled you up carefully, looking to see if it was hurting you. You were hurting but you didn't want to let it know that, finally listening to your mind you swatted at it's hand, catching it a bit off guard. The turtle did listen though, it let you go and you moved yourself, putting your back to the fountain and facing it.

The silence that fell after was tense, if you had a knife you wouldn't be able to cut it. Neither of you knew what to do, you couldn't understand it, and you assumed it didn't understand you. It was always worth a shot though.

"Can you understand me?" You shot out, at least hoping it could understand.

It looked at you with the most confused look you've seen on a creature, obviously it could not understand you. You leaned your head back and sighed, of course you were with something that could actually speak and neither of you could understand each other. The universe said no talking for you.

"Of course! Of course, of course, of course. The first thing I come in contact with that can speak and I don't understand you, you don't understand me, could there be a more perfect match!?" If your arms didn't hurt as much as they did you'd be throwing them around like that was what you were talking with.

You looked at the turtle again, hoping for at least a reaction you could understand. Luckily, that was a language it could understand too. Reactions. It looked like it understood your frustration, which was good. At least that was getting across. It moved it's hand to it's chin, doing that silly stereotypical thinking pose. You'd do that too if you could, unfortunately you didn't want to be riddled with pain for a little joking around right now. You did think too though, as hard as you could. Maybe.... Maybe it'd understand hands? But what hand motions could express what's going on? If it didn't know English it wasn't going to know sign language so, obviously you're not doing that.

You lifted your arm in front of the turtle, not getting a reaction. It was really deep in thought wasn't it? You snapped your fingers a few times, getting it's attention. You pointed at it. It looked confused and tilted its head. You pointed at it again, and then made a gesture you hoped would come across as asking who or what it was. It pointed to itself, doing that thing people do when they ask if it's you they mean. Obviously, you meant the turtle, there was nobody else around. You moved your hand as you thought, making it apparent there was nobody else around that you could be pointing at. Even though this was the weirdest situation you'd ever been in, you hoped you weren't coming across as too mean. You were obviously annoyed but with this being the first being you've met in literally 5 years that even has a chance of understanding you, you wanted to make a good first impression.

The turtle stared at you for a second, probably thinking of what you meant by just pointing at it. You didn't know what you meant either.

"...Raph" It said slowly, pointing to itself again.

Was that a name? That was probably a name right? You pointed at him and repeated.

"You're... Raph? Is that a name...?" You knew it couldn't understand most of what you said, but it was more for your sake.

It nodded slightly, sort of processing your words even though it was probably only able to get its name out of the whole thing.

"Y/n" you said and pointed to yourself, hoping it knew you meant your name.

It nodded and pointed at you, saying your name before speaking in it's language again. Maybe Raph was saying the same thing you did, asking if that was your name. That would be pretty funny, you think. The two of you not being able to understand each other but saying the same thing in your languages hoping the other gets some of it.

What were you supposed to do now? You've been introduced but... What else can you talk about through hands and random words that weren't unexplainable, like names? It was obvious Raph didn't know either. So you both just sat there. Staring at each other. This was pretty uncomfortable.

You decided to make the next move and went to stand up. Your legs hurt just the same, but you were determined to at least get up. This really alarmed Raph, it moving its hand to grab at your shoulder again. It went at the right time though, as soon as it reached you, your legs gave out, and you were just about sent to the dirt. The touch still felt very weird, when you were carefully sat back on the ground you waved off it's hand again, which received a look you couldn't quite get.

You thought again, you needed to leave, and you wanted to go home. You couldn't move without falling to the ground right now though. There were two options, waiting a little while longer before leaving, or asking Raph as well as you could for help to get you home.

You'll sit and wait for now. You didn't know how much you could trust Raph, not that it wasn't being very kind in dealing with you, you just didn't know if it could be trusted enough to know your home location. Waiting is the easiest and most reasonable option right now.

Of course though, you'd have to be here waiting with Raph. You should at least get to know it a little right? How would you do that though? You looked up at the sunlight again, seeing if it had moved. How long had it even been?

"Raph." You said while pointing at it again.

It nodded and watched you. Not thinking this far, you put your hand on your chin, thinking. You thought of multiple questions, but no way to say them through hands. So you settled to point at Raph again and hold your hands out in what you hoped looked like you were holding a turtle. It didn't, and Raph looked very confused. You had to think again, that was the only idea you had and it did not work at all. Trying again, you pointed at it, and moved your hands to pat your back over your shoulders, hoping it'd come across as you talking about the shell. It copied you, putting it's hands over it's shoulders onto it's shell. Raph seemed to get you were talking about the shell now, but what you were trying to say about it definitely flew over its head. It'd fly over yours too though, if someone asked something about you like this.

Raph pointed to you, then to it's shell. You think it's asking if you want touch it's shell. You shrugged, and put your head in your hands. This is annoyingly difficult.

Just as you pointed to Raph again this sort of alarm thing went off on his wrist, scaring you and making Raph jump. It tapped the thing on its wrist, another voice came through and it responded, getting up and moving away. As it tapped its wrist again, it turned back to you like it only then realized you were still there. Raph thought for just a moment before lifting a hand and waving at you slowly, like it was hoping you'd understand that as well.

You did, and waved in return. This made it a bit happy, you think. It smiled and rushed off, probably to do whatever it was the voice on his wrist thing wanted it for.

Even though you hadn't exactly spoken to Raph, it still felt suddenly very lonely again. You didn't realize that just something being there that even sort of understood you felt like having a breath of fresh air after drowning for years. You felt bad now. Like, a sad bad. You kind of hoped Raph would come back eventually.

You think you'll stop calling him an it now too. He deserved as much.

Now you'd just wait. For as long as you needed to before you could get home yourself.

This is going to be a while, isn't it?

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

Previous ⭐ Next(To be added<3)

How we feelin? I know what I'm feeling. Tired.

Once again, sorry if anything sounds stupid in this part! I wrote this overnight and am extremely tired, hope you enjoyed it though!

[tjsplace]

jun 23

3 pm

i set the timer to get my shit together in an hour and a half. hopefully i obey this time. drinking a beer, maybe two. smoking cigarettes and getting high. should that be what i need to be writing songs about? my addictions? instead of wow i suffered so much i don't want it anymore songs. been watching daisy jones and the six. i like the show and i like the book. i really wanna keep rereading it, but i can never find a place comfortable enough to read. and i can't smoke while holding the book open. i need to focus on the words but i like scraping the surface of my conscience. that's also a good line. i'm on a roll. then i'll hate everything i write. i need to make my bed, clean my room, clean the bathroom, rehearse and do vocal exercises, and also do the stretches and whole body movements so i can finally record vocals. i wanna record a short video to upload to instagram, just me singing and playing so much for love, or another song? no, so much for love is fine. i need to shower and wait though. because my eyes show how high i am. i think. i just looked at myself in the mirror and maybe i don't look so fucked. maybe i do. god i wanna be fucked. i wanna be fucked every moment of the day and every man i meet is trash. i don't even know how to flirt, so i probably friendzone guys i find attractive without noticing. flirting makes me uncomfortable. the closeness and complicity. intimacy is too scary. i've maybe avoided it all my life to be honest. with luca, with diego, even with pierre.

5.16 pm

i just cleaned my bathroom, half my room and i'm back at my desk with just a bit of coffee. i gotta shower and record the video. i'm not sure if i should do vocal exercises first. i should really take a shower. i'm so tired. but what else could i do? find another show to watch and distract myself from the void in my heart? how can i expect to be a good performer if i don't rehearse? i'm so fuckin' tired. maybe a small break will do. what do people do when they do nothing? sometimes i write, sometimes i get high. most of the time i get high and smoke and drink to be honest. i already drank three large beers today. i want more but i don't got it. maybe i can shower and try on my new dress. maybe it'll look better on me today than yesterday. i was so depressed when i tried it on. it looked horrible. my mom told me to try it on again some other time when i'm not so anxious. tomorrow i have therapy and i hope to not dissociate. it's happened so often these past few weeks i don't even know what i say during the sessions.

11.36 pm

i can't even tell when i'm high anymore. i need a drink to feel something. weed and alcohol. and cigarettes if you count them. perfect combo. champion's breakfast. i'm kidding. but a night in with a beer and a joint and my marlboros, perfect. also nights out partying. mostly in someone else's place. i miss partying. feels like i haven't gone out in months. but last weekend i got drunk at my high school friend's place. everything was spinning and i laid down on the couch next to them. i don't know if i fell asleep.

[petekaos]

Please tell us all your sotus hot takes, I have a big need to hear them

I wish I could separate character from the actor but I can't, everytime I see arthit I just remember kr*ists stupid ass but I still want to hear your thoughts on sotus and sotus s!! Imo sotus s didn't deserve a lot of the hate it got, it was a more realistic portrayal of a relationship between 2 men then people would like to believe

woo okay y’all opened the floodgates.

first off i do want to absolutely disclaim that sotus and sotus s as well as the kongarthit ourskyy episode were my first introductions to the bl genre. i watched them during a not-so-great time in my life and for weeks all i would do is queue up the sotus episodes just to watch them when i felt down! and i only learned of kr*st’s actions when i started snooping around on tumblr about sotus. i agree, now knowing of the things he has done, rewatching sotus is a little bit harder but the series and by extension kong and arthit are so near and dear to me and mean so so so much to me!

i genuinely think that sotus and sotus s are good shows. they’re solid, good shows and the impact they had was honestly immeasurable. they paved the way for a lot of other good and better bls we have today. i know people are pretty much unified that sotus is a fairly good show, some people like it more or less than others and that’s completely valid. i loved sotus! seeing arthit develop over the course of a season from a closed off hazer to a more open and tender guy who gets into a relationship was so... nice. hearing him admit that they don’t know much about each other but he’s willing to get to know kong--that was so good? and there are so many motifs and symbols in sotus that made it into other shows (the engineer and pink milk and gear thing) but the thing that sotus did right was the meaning behind all of it. the system unified them but was criticised and allowed to be criticised as well. pink milk was a metaphor for arthit’s attraction to men and by extension to kong, his like for it being a secret at the beginning of the series but then him slowly becoming more open about drinking pink milk and the same metaphor carrying over into the next season. the meaning the gears hold is literally outlined in the show itself, and the way they first had each other’s gears but then melded their gears into two, one half kong’s gear and the other half’s arthit, made for both of them at the end of sotus s... god, i’ll get into that later. sotus was just a solid series with good friendships and supporting characters (premwad was done dirty and i stand by that forever) and i enjoyed it a lot!

sotus s... yeah that’s one where people are split and a lot of people disliked it. honestly... i felt seen in sotus s. i think it didn’t deserve a lot of the flak it got. sotus s did an established relationship between kong and arthit pretty well and stayed true to their characters, putting them on a journey of realising a relationship needs effort and work to be put in. when kong asked arthit what he meant to him... that was so important? something i really admired was the way that although kong was more open and ready to be out with their relationship, he let arthit make the decision whether he wanted to tell other people or not (both their friends in s1 and their coworkers in s2. they dealt with pretty heavy issues like a breach of privacy in the workplace and the way their relationship was and i thought it was well done. like... they’re two fairly closeted asian men in a relationship and seeing arthit grow over the course of s2 and them holding hands publicly in the end? it was good. it was a good ending, and ourskyy was an even better ending. the end of sotus s, the way kong gave the gear back to arthit because he wasn’t sure how they stood anymore only for arthit to give him back the gear, except now their hearts don’t belong to each other... they just belong together, as evidenced by the gears! 

there’s a lot more i could say about the characters of kong and arthit and how much they mean to me and feel free to ask me specific questions about specific scenes and what i thought of them! however, i don’t really associate myself with the sotus fandom and i’m glad i watched it three years later by myself, i felt like it meant so much more to me then without any drama or discussion. i do really think some people need to let sotus go though, they had a good ending and a solid special episode and that’s it! please let singto be free of kr*st! i’m begging you!

[wishesunderthestars]

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.

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

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.”

[restlessfandoming]

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!” 

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt. 

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air. 

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked. 

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze. 

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.” 

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.” 

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering. 

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it? 

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed. 

Of course. 

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon. 

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak. 

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him. 

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more. 

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow. 

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose. 

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up! 

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed. 

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically. 

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin. 

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist. 

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing. 

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there. 

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response. 

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity. 

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her. 

An Abyss Mage! 

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it. 

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us. 

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably. 

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake. 

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground. 

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body. 

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!” 

Lumine looked past the mage. 

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief. 

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe. 

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm. 

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle. 

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully. 

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage. 

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling. 

“Childe!” Lumine screamed. 

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion. 

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air. 

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered. 

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured. 

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod. 

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest. 

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier. 

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface. 

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained. 

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.” 

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.” 

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.” 

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. 

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world. 

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand. 

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them. 

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth. 

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking. 

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

[vicious-vixxxen]

Mermaid!Kirishima X Male Reader

((Lost the original ask who prompted this, but here’s a little Mermaid!Kirishima to start the prompts off here! Thank you again for being the first to send in an ask, I appreciate it so much! And such a fun and interesting one to kick things off with, so manly! <3))

You’d almost fallen asleep. Again. Jesus Christ. Groaning, you stretched your limbs out as far as they’d reach- stifling a cry as your joints popped, and you became a puddle against the wooden dock you were laid across. The soft plap-plap of the waves beneath you very nearly lulling you under once again. Opening your eyes finally, you raised your arm to block out the harsh mid afternoon rays, and to check your watch for the time. Nearly four. He was late. “Where the hell are you, sharkboy,” You grumbled, sitting up, and stretching your arms out for a second time, stretching them for all they were worth, before slumping over and scrubbing at your tired eyes. Wincing slightly at the soft burn of your palms against your cheeks. Fuck. No sunblock. Of course. You’d be confused with a lobster by the time you went home and scooped up in a net for dinner if you didn’t apply any. Chancing a glance around the open ocean around you, spotting hues of blue after hues of blue- but no red- you sighed, tugging off your sweat soaked tank top- shoving it into your bag with the rest of your things, before retrieving your sunblock, and squirting a liberal amount into the palm of your hand. Slapping them together afterwards to smear it around, before hiking a leg up to begin applying it. The soft scent of coconut filled the air around the dock, and mixed with the salty scent of the seafoam below the dock, it reminded you of Kirishima. How enamored he’d been the first time he spotted you out here, doing just as you were now. The scent, the sight. Long tanned legs, short board shorts, no top. He’d been drooling, it was a whole adorable thing. Of course, you absolutely flipped your shit the first time you saw him. He wasn’t exactly the most subtle creature to catch a glimpse of, especially when he reared up to apologize- fins fanning out, causing you to nearly have a heart attack. You knew of mer-people, of course, but no one had seen any in these parts in decades. You certainly hadn’t. Not in your lifetime. First time for anything, though, you supposed. He’d wandered too far from his pod, and gotten curious of the handsome human male spread out like a buffet on the docks. If there was one thing to be said about Eijiro, it was that he was too curious for his own damn good. Something that both endeared you, and frustrated the fuck out of you. You hardly noticed, so caught up in your thoughts of the creature, the sound of the water breaking- the soft creak of the dock straining beneath the merman's grip as he hoisted himself up quietly, laying flat on his stomach just a few feet away. Eyes wide as saucers, red irises glinting mischievously as he tried to stick to his plan. Thwarted only by all the bare expanse of skin you were showing off. Tan, and soft looking. Soft to the touch, too, Kirishima thought suddenly, mouth too full of saliva as he recalled the feel of your skin beneath his webbed fingers. Shaking himself from his awed stupor, Kirishina grinned- all sharp teeth, as he shimmied across the dock, long tail swishing excitedly beneath the water, where it hung low from the dock. Already aware of his tardiness, Kirishima wasted no time lunging for you when he was close enough- laughing boisterously as you shrieked, and began swatting blindly at him. “You asshole! How many times have I told you /NOT/ to do that?” Y/N Shouted, initial panic already seeping away, as he was rolled over beneath Kirishima- the merman's soggy red spikes haloed by the sun’s rays, making him look….positively angelic. The fucking heathen. “You’re an absolute menace to both land and sea society Kirishima- no, no don’t fucking kiss me, I’m mad at you. Take your fishy kisses somewhere else, they will not be accepted here!” Y/N continued to shout, laughing suddenly as Kirishima nuzzled and raked his teeth along the soft expanse of your neck, webbed fingers digging just this side of rough into your sides, to elicit a fit from you. “L-Lemme g-go you smelly s-sardine! Ah-ahah! S-shit, i’m gonna p-piss myself if you don’t-ah!- stop! Kiri, please, mercy, mercy!” You cried, tears in your eyes as Eijiro wrapped your legs around his broad hips- shifting his scales downwards, as to not scrape you. Cradling you in his arms, his elbows against the dock, to shift you both upwards just a bit. Toothy grin as bright as ever as he gave in, and finally looked at you. Kirishima swore he could look at you forever. Your bright, twinkling E/C eyes, the soft, sun bleached tips of your hair. The curve of your nose. The curve of your /lips/. Especially the curve of your lips. “You can’t just show up late and expect me to be all hugs and kisses, that’s not fair,” You pouted, despite the smile you couldn’t help forming on your face. Ankles hooked just at the small of Kirishima’s back, where waist met scales. One hand splayed across the creatures back, the other finding its way deep in the crop of damp hair atop his head. Fingernails digging gently into the base, in that sweet spot that always had Kiri mewling if you scratched long enough. “Mm, i’m sorry, baby shark,” Kiri cooed, snickering at the eye roll he could practically sense, as he dipped his face back down against your neck, and kissed. “-It was my turn to lead the roundup for dinner. You know how long it takes to completely swarm a school of flounder? Little bastards shoot off in different directions. So yummy,” he paused, nipping at your earlobe, causing you to tense, “-but so difficult to catch. Like, but also kind of unlike, another little fish I know.” “A man of a thousand sweet talks.” You were already putty in the merman's hands, and you both knew it. Didn’t mean you had to advertise it. “I am sorry, baby shark. I tried to hurry, but you know how Denki can be. He gets a little zapped if he exerts himself too much on the hunt. We all gotta get him back to the cove in one piece after that, and he’s such a squirmer, so...ya know,” Kirishima shrugged, arms tightening just barely around your middle, as he leaned back, smile less predatory, and more sincere now, as he pressed your foreheads together gently. “Apology accepted...I guess,” You mumbled finally, breaking the creature's gaze, only to flick your gaze down to his plump, bitten lips. One drop of saltwater still clinging to his cupid's bow. “I missed you, dude,” Kiri whispered finally, blush painting his pale face, as he pressed chaste kisses to your cheeks, and chin. Peppering them all over afterwards as you began to giggle. “Missed you too,” You sighed, closing your eyes, and angling your head to catch Kirishima’s lips in a soft kiss. Just a press of them together, no real urgency. You had the rest of the evening, and long after sunset to spend together. There’d be plenty of time for rough, heated kisses below the docks. When you lost your trunks, and Kiri started losing control of the sharpness of his scales. Leaving small pricks and scrapes over your inner thighs, from how you’d going to his hips. Only to have the merman lay you out on the dock under the stars, and kiss them all better. Webbed hands spread wide over your stomach, your hips. Trailing down your thighs, up, and around… “Whoa now,” Kirishima whistled, pulling back to glance down between you, and you huffed. “Don’t get cocky, asshole. I haven’t seen you in almost a week, give me a break.” Hooking your chin over the merman's shoulder, you rolled your eyes once more at Kirishima’s little giggles. Mesmerized by the expanse of muscle in his back. Gaze trailing down between Kirishima’s shoulder blades. Down the small of his back, where his hips dipped first inwards, then back out. Hips filling out below his scales, bright red at the tips, and a deep obsidian at the base, where they met his flesh. Similar to the hair atop his head. Unhooking one of your feet, you ran your toes down along the soft, slippery surface of his tail, as far as you could go, before bringing it back up. Noting the shiver down Kirishima’s spine, and grinning. “Never gets old, does it?” “No, nope. Absolutely not. You make my tail feel like it’s gonna shake right off,” Kirishima groaned, planting his plans on either side of you now, caging you in as you rested back against the dock. “Should probably get that checked out by a doctor.” “Asshole.” “See if I give you the gummy worms in my backpack now.” “....did I mention how much I love you yet?” “That’s what I thought, seaweed brain.” You laughed, flinching back with a frown as Kirishima nipped at the air in front of your face playfully- reaching back for your brag, to draw out the large bag of gummy worms you’d already opened, when waiting for the merman to arrive. Grabbing one out of the pack, and holding it up between two fingers for Kirishima to slurp up. Humming contentedly as he chewed, and you simply smiled. “Love you,” You whispered, feeding him another- watching as he slowed in his chewing, before gulping audibly, and leaning down close. “Love you too. Beautiful boy.” ((Thank you again to the wonderful prompter who asked for this, I had a blast writing it!))

[stubbychaos]

Let These Words Set You Free

Chapter 6 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After finding it impossible to break off your relationship with the Mandalorian, you let him claw his way deeper into your heart as you two spend the night together after he tends to your wounds. Deep conversations ensue and the Mandalorian gives you not one, but two gifts to cheer you up.

Rating: T 

Word Count: 7,900

Warnings: There’s really not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter to be honest. Mostly non-descriptive mentions of abuse, tending to wounds, and Saviin’ika struggling with self-deprecating thoughts because of how horribly she’s been manipulated.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter and I absolutely can’t believe that it has over 200 notes?? Like, you guys are all amazing and keep inspiring me to write more and I absolutely love reading all your replies/reblogs/messages/and even the tags!! <3

You’re certain that you must be the most selfish woman in all of Nevarro--in all of the entire galaxy.

Instead of listening to your father’s grave threat against your life, against your Mandalorian’s life, you find yourself letting your fearless warrior stay with you throughout the entire night so he can hold you close to him after a traumatizing week. At one point, he removes his cuirass and the padding that covers his stomach so you can rest your head more comfortably and your heart swells that he’s willing to shed something so precious, just for the sake of your neck not aching, come morning.

You’re half asleep and unaware of how much time has passed since dozing off when you feel him slowly shifting your sore body against him, turning you until your cheek is pressed against his softly defined belly and you bring a hand up to curl into the warm fabric covering his side. You find it slightly amusing that the last time he’d been lying on the medical cot with your hands on his ribs, you’d been absolutely terrified of him and now--

Well, now you’re letting him hold you in such an intimate, vulnerable way and you’ve never felt safer.

As he tenderly caresses your face and hair while you rest your eyes, his cloak wrapped tightly around your pliant form, you realize you’ve never trusted anyone the same way you trust this massive warrior of a man. You’re in an extremely vulnerable position, too lethargic and drained to fight back against anyone who would want to harm you in that moment, but he’s proved to you, time and time again that he couldn’t even bear the thought of causing you such pain. 

You’d witnessed it in the way he continuously went out of his way to brighten up your day by showering you with sweet, simple gestures, or how he held no reservations in taking care of you and your injuries. He hadn’t believed you to be a foolish woman for wanting to fiercely protect the sweet crystalline fox that still comfortably sleeps on the flat pillow you had surrendered earlier, nor had he admonished you for being reckless enough to go anywhere near that dirty cantina where the Trandoshan had discovered you. 

The faith and confidence he has in you to simply be nothing more than yourself is overwhelming and breathtaking in the most beautiful way, as you’ve never had anyone show you such interest in all the little quirks and personality traits that he believed made you unique, compared to anyone else he’s encountered before.

Your heart soars when you think of the pride that had been prevalent in his praises upon finding out that you had kicked your attacker hard enough to get yourself out of a bad situation. You want to learn how to become stronger, for both yourself and him, but the weight of your father’s threats press down harshly on your thin shoulders and you fear that it is such a weight that not even your heavy-infantry warrior would be able to relieve you of.

You ponder if he thinks you’re fully asleep as he gently removes the metal cuffs from the tail of your braids, skilled fingers working at the tangled locks that your father had angrily dragged you by just a day prior to your reunion with your Mandalorian. The stark contrast leaves your lungs bereft of all air as he takes his time to unwind your long braids, taking great care to not tug at them or cause you any discomfort while you get some much needed rest, and you marvel at how someone who possessed so much strength and such a terrifying reputation can touch you so sweetly, so tenderly.

“You are so pretty--so beautiful,” He murmurs with a soft, dreamy sigh as he tenderly rubs your sore scalp with the utmost precision, “I promise I’ll take you away from this awful place soon--just hang in there, ner cyare. ’M gonna take care of this whole situation you’re in.”

You think you must have simply dreamed the excruciatingly sweet sentiment because of the way he utters the promise with complete devotion, his thumb moving to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. It makes you feel like you’re trapped in a lovely fantasy, rather than the nightmares that typically prevent you from getting a good night of sleep.

You let out with a little hum when you feel him shift a little, fearing that he’s going to leave you, but his hand hastily moves to the spot between your shoulder blades and reassuringly rubs up and down the length of your spine.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” He whispers so lowly that you only hear it from underneath his blue helm, “Always.”

Underneath the care and skill of his hands, you eventually fall into a peaceful sleep, letting the Mandalorian comfort you in the only way he knows how. Before you let exhaustion completely take over, you briefly wonder what cyar’ika means and if it will replace the other names he’s gifted you with.

Only hours pass when you feel fingers tenderly squeezing your nape and you slowly wake with a big yawn against his stomach, your fingers curling into the thick fabric covering his ribs as he coaxes you from your restful slumber. Despite being a little tired and there being a dull throbbing aches in the back of your skull from being concussed, you think it’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had.

“I am sorry for waking you, mesh’la,” The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you completely out of your dreamy state and you groan a little as you rub the sleep from the corners of your eyes, “I was not sure when your father would be back and did not want to cause you anymore trouble with him.”

You ignore how nauseous you suddenly feel from both his words and the promise you had broken to your father, “Wh--What time is it?”

He hums a little, his hand easily sliding down your spine like it’s only natural for him, “About an hour before sunrise.”

“We do not have much longer then,” You reluctantly sit up, letting out another soft groan as you stretch out your arms high above your head, cringing when your hear several bones in your back and joints in your shoulders crack. You hear the Mandalorian sigh behind you as you roll your stiff neck and you both understand that you aren’t sore from the position you slept in, but more so the grueling shifts you’ve been working the past two weeks.

Your Mandalorian voices his concern as you begin to part your hair so you can braid it, “This job takes a toll on you, does it not, mesh’la?”

“Yes, but it is worth it to me,” You murmur, shivering a little when his cape falls from your shoulders, “I wish the people were kinder, but sometimes I get someone who is grateful. Yesterday one of my patients was a little girl who had scraped her knees pretty badly--she was the cutest thing, just a little Togruta, no older than six. She was so upset because apparently her older brother told her that I was going to amputate her legs. I had to reassure her for nearly half an hour I would not be cutting off her legs because of scraped knees.”

The Mandalorian laughs, tilting his helmet as he watches you gracefully style your hair and brush it away from your face, “You like children?”

Something about casually talking about children, all while sitting between his thighs on the cot you two had shared the previous night makes your cheeks viciously flush and you’re grateful your back is facing him. You’re not sure how to change the topic and choose your next words carefully.

“Yes, Mandalorian. I think they are... precious and I admire their curiosity and innocence. It is not often my patients are younglings though.”

“Someone like you must be good with little ones,” He voices his thoughts out loud and you think he sounds amused as he grazes his thumb along the outer shell of your warm ear.

For some reason, an intense pang throbs in your chest and you lower your head a little when unpleasant memories surface to the forefront of your mind, causing hot tears to brim your eyes and you quickly squeeze them shut.

“I could only wish to be better.”

His hand falters at the shakiness in your sad whisper of a voice and instead of teasing your ear, his hand moves to your nape and squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. He doesn’t ask what or who’s haunting you and you’re grateful, for you fear you do not have the strength to confide such horrific thoughts and memories to the massive Mandalorian without crumbling to pieces.

It’s silent for a few moments and you hate that you’ve completely ruined the comfortable atmosphere, so you miserably continue to braid your hair with now shaking fingers.

The Mandalorian, however, is determined not let you feel such dejection and speaks as softly as his helmet will allow him to.

"I wish I could watch you do this every morning."

“I am only braiding my hair, Mandalorian,” You smile weakly, forcing yourself to forget about the topic of children as you lift your elbows high above your head, deftly parting three separate locks of thick hair on the right half of your scalp, “It is nothing special.”

“Yet you make it look like art,” He hums, reaching out to softly stroke the half of your hair that you’re currently not braiding; for a moment, you think he’s going to attempt to style it for you, though he simply continues to trail his hand down your back, “I haven’t really touched someone else’s hair in a long time--I enjoy touching yours.”

“How long has it been?”

His hand freezes against the small of your back and before you can even begin to fear that you’ve asked a terrible question, he answers you in a much softer tone, “At least twenty years, mesh’la. My mother used to let me try to style her hair much like how you do yours, but I was never as good as she was and I would usually give up. She would always tell me that she felt bad for any future grandchildren I would give her because of how terrible I am when it comes to such things.”

The thought of this intimidating warrior being a child, attempting to braid his exasperated mother’s hair makes you smile fondly as you keep forcing yourself to not let your mind wander to a dark place that cause you unnecessary pain.

He sounds utterly nostalgic and you marvel at the images his words conjure in your imaginative mind, “Her hair was a lot more stubborn and curlier than yours, but she always made it seem so easy to braid it--you both make it seem so easy.”

“Then it would be good for you to learn as well, Mandalorian,” You quietly inform him, turning your head slightly to regard him with quirked eyebrows as he reaches out to stroke the thick plait with admiration before finishing it off for you with one of the metal cuffs he had dutifully held onto all night.

He sounds utterly amused when he speaks up again, mirth evident in his modulated voice as he continues to thumb the soft weaves and crevices of your graceful work, “Why would I need to learn such things when braiding someone else’s hair has never been a part of my studies in the tribe? What could hair styling possibly come in handy for if I am in the middle of a battle, little nurse?”

‘Braiding the hair of the future grandchildren your mother spoke of.’

You nearly say the words out loud, though you think them to be too personal and you do not wish to cause the Mandalorian any sadness upon bringing up old memories of a different time.

“I am sure the little ones in your tribe would not mind having their hair out of their faces,” You hum as you cross thick locks of hair underneath one another and gently tug to make sure they are tight enough where stubborn pieces won’t escape; you frown at the way his hand falters against your nape and you think you’ve made a mistake in your words, “Unless there are no little ones that don’t wear helmets? I j-just figured--I did not mean to disrespect your tribe or--”

“It’s okay, you are not being disrespectful,” He chuckles, shaking his head a little as he continues to watch your fingers work at your smooth locks, “I just… I was not expecting you to say that--you never ask about our helmets.”

“It is something sacred and none of my business,” You refuse to meet the emotionless gaze of his visor as you hastily bring your braid over your shoulder to continue the lower you get, cheeks burning as you lower your voice into a sheepish whisper; you feel shameful for bringing up something so personal, “I would never--I don’t ever want to--”

“Saviin’ika--you are far too sweet and precious for your own good,” His chuckles dissolve into laughter at how flushed and shy you’ve suddenly become at something that truly does not seem to be a big deal to him, his fingers squeezing your nape in a comforting way, “Yes, we do have young children in the tribe that have not yet sworn to the creed and we have some that put on the helmet as early as their sixth birthday. It is something that they choose whenever they are ready, not something that is forced upon them.”

You awkwardly shuffle your body around until you’re facing him, his thighs still splayed wide and feet dangling off either side of the cot as he lazily reaches forward to grab the loose tail of your braid. He seems utterly focused as he skillfully wraps the silver cuff around the bottom of your plait, fingers lightly stroking the ends of your hair that aren’t weaved together. You think there must be some sort of comfort and reassurance the warrior gains from helping you tame your own unruly locks and you smile warmly at him when he continues to stroke the soft tip of your braids with great reverence.

Curiosity gets the better of you and despite your better judgment, you find yourself speaking a question that’s plagued you since he first opened up about his tribe during one of your first meetings when he finally began to trust you more.

“Are there people who simply do not wear the helmet at all?”

He makes a small humming noise as you shyly lift your gaze to peer up at him through a thick abundance of eyelashes, “Sometimes uh, people who would not be considered to be foundlings are brought to the tribe, but it is rare that they are accepted by everyone. It is a long process that goes into permanently bringing in an outsider and very rarely are they accepted. It usually ends in an intense fight of some sort.”

“M-May I ask why?”

His helmet tilts to the side and his bare hand comes up to gently caress your healing cheek as he easily quells your curiosity in that comforting baritone that must intimidate so many others, “Because, saviin’ika, we need to make sure that whoever is deemed worthy of joining our tribe is able to provide for us in one way or another--no matter how little or big the job may be. We need to be sure that they will not turn their backs on us or do something that will draw attention to the tribe. It is a very delicate and difficult process, but it is for our own protection since our numbers are now so low.”

“I think it is honorable,” You murmur as you sheepishly tuck your hands between your thighs and gaze up at his emotionless visor, “That you value your people so dearly that there is a long process that goes into joining the tribe. It shows that you have respect and love for one another--it’s admirable.”

He hums, his thick fingers twitching against your healing cheek as he heaves a grave sigh and brings his other hand to tenderly cradle your head between his big hands. He cocks his scuffed up helmet to the side as he curiously strokes your skin and you certainly notice the strange shift in the atmosphere when his chest heaves a little and he simply holds your head up between warm palms.

You nervously fidget with the tail of your braid as he remains deathly still and silent, almost making you think he’s fallen asleep or passed out underneath that blue bucket.

He eventually shakes his helmet a little and clears his throat as he reluctantly releases the gentle hold he has on you, your skin now warmed and tinged pink, "I don't think I will ever truly be able to understand you, mesh'la."

You frown a little, confusion pinching your brows together with worry, "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckles a little when you move to carefully climb over his thigh to slowly slide off the cot, his hands hastily moving to your hips so he can steady you when you nearly fall face first into the floor.

"No, you just--" He makes a funny noise as he moves so his thick legs are dangling off the side of the cot and you're caged between them; you smile when he brings you closer without having to use much guidance. You think the Mandalorian could guide you through your darkest, scariest nightmares and you would still trust him not to let any harm reign down on you--that he would be able to lay waste to anyone or anything that attempted to cause you pain or discomfort, all while holding your hand.

"I'm just daydreaming, like you always do."

You smile at the slightly wistful tone he manages through his crackly modulator.

"About what?"

He lets out a deep exhale when you bring your hands up to tentatively cup the sides of his clothed neck to hold him in place, though he could easily shake you off if he desired.

 "I’m daydreaming about you, mesh'la--always about you."

Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and drops his helmet against your stomach, resting it there as if it's the softest pillow he's ever owned. A small, desperate groan has you nearly giggling and you hesitantly choose to firmly massage the tense muscles in his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He gently squeezes the back of your legs with gratitude and pulls you impossibly close; you remember with burning cheeks what he had admitted to you last night.

"The things you do to me… The things I would do for you."

You're not used to feeling wanted in any way shape or form, but something about the way he strokes the back of your covered thighs and melts into you makes you think he’s not toying around or jesting with you. Despite never trusting anyone enough to want to pursue some sort of physical intimacy with them, you find that you're absolutely flushed at the sound of every little groan and grunt he lets out as your fingers work at his tense muscles. You’re unfamiliar with the dull ache that’s burning something fierce in the pit of your stomach, but you find that it’s not an unpleasant sensation. 

You’re absolutely certain it has nothing to do with your healing injuries, but more so with the way one of his hands finds the small of your back and gently squeezes.

It’s not until your fingers manage to curl underneath the bunched up material that covers his neck that he lets out with a groan so loud and a shuddery breath that you nearly yank yourself away from him, fearing that you’ve somehow managed to harm your Mandalorian.

“You’re good--fuck, you’re good,” He reassures you before you can remove your hand from his warm skin and you fear that your skin will actually be set ablaze, “Feels really nice, is all.”

You glue yourself to that spot and continue to provide him with any relief he’s willing to accept from you. Happiness and dread burns hotter than coals in the pit of your belly when you realize that you are somehow able to reduce the huge warrior to this kind of state. Something about him displaying such vulnerability is humbling and satisfying, but you realize just how accurate your father was when he spoke of being able to hurt the Mandalorian in other ways. Judging by how upset he had been the previous night upon first noticing your injuries, you are certain that your father would wish to cause him pain through your own suffering.

“If he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me.”

You remember the Mandalorian’s grave promise and lower your head in shame--fear and sadness suddenly threatening to drown you underneath its massive tidal wave. You do not wish to be the reason for your Mandalorian displaying such acts of violence and you realize that the soft words he had spoken in your sleepy state about taking you away from the village was only part of a silly dream.

“It seems as though you need rest as well,” You whisper, hating that your voice shakes from excitement and fear, “I’m sure your own bed is far more comfortable than this dinky little cot. You should go back to your tribe and get some sleep since you didn’t seem to get any last night.”

“I’m sure my bed is comfier than yours as well,” The Mandalorian huffs, completely disregarding the last sentence, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart leap at his next words, “Perhaps you would like to test it out sometime?”

Your chest heaves a little at his boldness and you struggle to shrug it off, “I think you just want a body to keep your bed warm at night and I am not that kind of woman.”

“And I am not that kind of man.”

“Yet you would still invite me to sleep in your bed?”

“Did we not sleep together last night?” His shoulders are shaking from what you think is him trying not to laugh and you roll your eyes, though a warm smile stretches across your lips.

“Besides, your skin is always freezing--I doubt you would be doing much to warm my bed, though I don’t think that’s a bad thing, mesh’la,” His voice drops into a deep, low rasp as he slides his hand up the base of your spine, fingers splayed wide against nearly the entirety of your lower back, “I would not mind warming you up every night, especially in my bed.”

“You cannot say these things to me, Mandalorian,” You huff at the tenderness and intimacy of his words and his impossibly tight embrace, “I am not--I’m not used to others wanting me the way you seem to want me.”

“Has nobody--” He seems to struggle with his next words as his hand tenderly squeezes your hip, “Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are? Or how pretty your eyes are? How soft your hair is and how nice it looks when you wear flowers in your braids?”

Your breath hitches at the utter conviction in his modulated voice and you loathe how shaky your voice is when you speak, “I cannot say anyone has said such things to me before, nor do I feel deserving of those kinds of compliments. I know I am nothing special.”

“Is that what he tells you?”

You look away from the warrior shamefully, even when he sits up a little straighter, his visor piercing your soul as you answer him, “It is what I know.”

The tips of his warm fingers curl firmly into the back of your thighs as he moves his helmet backwards to gaze up at you and you think that this kind of skin contact must be so rare for him that it brings more pleasure than anything else. He seems so vulnerable like this--sitting on the medical cot where the two of you had just spent the night together, his helmet pressed against your ribs that had been intensely bruised and aching only hours ago. Though there’s still a small amount of pain that lingers, it is now significantly milder after he used your bacta salve to heal the worst of your bruising.

“Don’t speak lies about yourself, cyar’ika--it hurts me too,” He almost sounds like he’s in pain as he holds you so close to him, “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in Nevarro--in the entirety of this galaxy. You are deserving of so much more than my words and I would never stop trying to convince you otherwise.”

“You are too sweet to me,” You murmur, voice still shaking with intense emotions that you’re not used to feeling, “I wish there was more I could give you in return.”

With little hesitation, you curiously burrow your fingers deeper underneath the thick fabric of his tunic as you massage the soft, pillowy muscles of his tense shoulders, enjoying the way he groans and pushes himself closer to you when you rub at a particularly tender spot.

“Being able to hold you is all I could ever ask from you, but having your hands on me like this is a nice bonus,” His voice is deliciously hoarse and low, even through the guise of his modulator and he practically keens when your fingers squeeze the tension away from just underneath his nape, where he carries stress the most between his shoulder blades, “Vor entye--thank you, cyar’ika.”

You’re well aware of the way his hands barely move an inch up the back of your thighs as you reluctantly remove your hand from the heat of his cowl, finding purchase on the hollows of his cold Beskar cheeks instead. He makes a small humming noise when you urge his helmet backwards a little to properly gaze up at you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling from the comfort that the shine of his visor bestows upon you. His hands move to cover yours and you beam when he places them on top of your much smaller ones, carefully squeezing your fingers.

“One day--” He sighs and cocks his helmet to the side as his voice drops, “One day I will feel your hands on my cheeks--on my skin.”

“But your helmet--your creed?”

“There are ways, cyare,” He informs you, his modulated voice crackling a little, “I will show you some day.”

You smile weakly and barely nod at him, deciding it was probably one of those traditions sacred to his people.

A few stray beams of crimson sunlight infiltrate your tiny office through the cracks of the blinds and you reluctantly pull away from one another; you feel the pull he has on your heart, as if beckoning you to remain close to him. You fear him leaving to go back to his tribe will unravel you completely, though you remind yourself that if you rely on him like this, it will only cause more pain when all is said and done.

He stands tall above you, still observing you as you make your way over to the vulptex that is barely starting to wake up, her eyes narrowed in the Mandalorian’s direction. 

After checking the state of her minor wounds and hand-feeding her some dried meat--much to her utter dismay--the beautiful creature seems to be in better spirits as she allows you to tenderly pet her rocky coat. You can’t help but to grin and giggle a little when she squeaks happily, letting you tenderly scratch her rocky little chin with admiration.

“What are you going to do about her?” Your Mandalorian questions when you eventually face him, watching with interest as he easily adorns his chest with that scuffed up cuirass before turning to his much larger equipment, “Would he not be angry about you taking in a stray? It’s just a weak runt, saviin’ika, are you sure she’s worth all this?”

“Do not speak of her like that,” You frown, turning to the tiny vulptex that is staring up at the two of you with curiosity, “Of course she is worth it.”

The Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head as your crystal companion clumsily rises from her pillow and quickly hobbles over to you for comfort; you’re quick to reach down to scratch just behind one of her large ears. Her crimson eyes blink slowly at you with adoration and you wonder how anyone could possibly have the desire to harm or kill a creature so beautiful and sweet. You think it must be difficult for your Mandalorian to be able to relate to having feelings of helplessness, what with being a trained warrior and you wonder what it must feel like to be a feared man in a village like this.

You can’t even begin to imagine not feeling like an easy target.

“What if he--?”

“I’ve been able to hide my smaller patients before,” You inform him, grabbing his large hand in both of yours before he can put his glove on; his helmet cocks to the side and you think he must be amused, “I’m sure she will not be difficult to keep hidden.”

“She is not the first stray you’ve taken in?”

You raise your brows at the blue warrior who seems utterly content to let you explore the coarse, calloused skin of his knuckles, “You’re still here, aren’t you, Mandalorian?”

“Funny,” He huffs in an incredulous manner, shaking his helmet at your teasing voice, “I’m being serious though, please be careful. I would rather you not be bruised and broken the next time I see you because of you having such a soft heart.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, dread creeping through you as you whisper your next words, “When will I see you again?”

“I--” He watches you as you lower your head, not wanting him to see the fear and despair in your eyes that he seems to find so expressive, though he still seems to have an easy read on you as he speaks with anguish evident in his crackly voice, “I am not sure, but I promise it won’t be more than a few days this time. It is for the well-being of the tribe, something that will benefit us.”

“Then that is good,” You murmur, though the ache in your chest still burns painfully and you force a meek smile, one that he easily sees through “They are your biggest priority.”

You wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of intense love for your family--that willingness to walk through flames and the most dangerous of situations, all to protect the ones you love. You find it absolutely beautiful--the dedication that Mandalorians have to their tribe--and you briefly ponder if you’d ever get to meet any of the warriors from his tribe, if he would ever trust you enough to even entertain the thought.

“You both are my biggest priority, mesh’la,” You absolutely loathe how vulnerable and scared you feel as you keep your tear-filled eyes away from his visor and you hear the heavy-infantry warrior grunt a little, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry. Stars, I’m not worth your tears.”

“You are worth every single one of them,” You inform him in the form of a breathy whisper, quickly shouldering away a tear that manages to slip from the corner of your eye, “I will wait for you, I just fear that you would not come back for me. I have--I have been abandoned far too many times, Mandalorian. I am afraid.”

“I will always come back for you,” His back straightens and his helmet jolts to the side a little, as though the thought of not returning to you has him feeling distraught, “That is a promise, ner cyar’ika, and I never break my fucking promises to those I care for.”

Your breath hitches at the utter devotion that’s apparent in his deep baritone and you can’t stop yourself from bringing his massive hand up to your face, barely aware of the way he grunts and shifts when your lips find the rough callouses that cover his knuckles. You’re used to dealing with tough criminals and bounty hunters that have no reluctance in displaying their dominance or strength, but as you gently kiss the rough marks and scars that he’s willingly exposed, you think it’s the first time a man has ever been utterly relaxed and pliant under your touch.

“What are you doing--? Saviin’ika are you--?”

He chokes a little when you maneuver his hand until his palm is facing upwards and he’s gently grasping your lightly bruised cheeks, not quite as tenderly as the previous night, but still making sure not to cause you any pain. You think the bruises must linger on your skin like some sort of beacon, judging by how tenderly he squeezes the supple flesh. 

A part of you gains satisfaction in the way the massive warrior groans loudly when you firmly press your lips into the warm, bare skin of his rough palm and you’re stunned and lightheaded at the thought of having this kind of power over such a fearless man.

“You said last night that you wished you could kiss me,” You remind him and you swear he shudders against the light hold you have on him, as though you somehow have the same effect he has on you whenever he decides to grow bold around you, “This is the only way I know how to give you one.”

His chest heaves a little upon feeling that warmth of your lips in the valley of his thumb and index finger, “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could show you how precious you are to me--so fucking precious to me, saviin’ika.”

You feel your eyes brim with hot tears at the utter conviction in his raspy crackle of a voice and you want to tell him that he’s already done plenty to make you believe his affection and intentions with you are completely genuine. His shoulders drop as you tend to a rough callous on the heel of his palm with your lips and you think you feel his fingers tremble against your cheek. It is then that you realize just how much you two have in common, both of you not used to the tender touch of another soul and you marvel at the thought of someone so much more powerful and far larger than you being just as touch-starved and vulnerable.

“You took care of me last night and helped with my wounds. You saved me from that cruel criminal and held me all night to keep me away from my nightmares,” You remind the aloof Mandalorian, peering up at him with a soft, kind gaze that seems to only unravel him further, “I have… I’ve never been someone else’s patient before--at least not since before my mother cared for me--but what you did for me was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and I could not ask for more from you. You have given me more happiness and hope in the last decade than anyone else."

“I want to give you more,” He pleads, almost sounding helpless underneath all that armor, a thought so ridiculous and shocking to you, “Cyar’ika, I would give you anything you wanted if it meant you blessed me with that pretty smile of yours.”

He seems hellbent on giving you some sort of gift and you wrack your brain for anything within reason your blue warrior could possibly conjure up for you.

For some reason, you think of all the nicknames he’s affectionately gifted you with, along with knowing your real name, and your cheeks flush when you realize the only name you have for him is ‘Mandalorian’. It feels too formal for your liking and you wonder if he feels the same way--if he longs for you to murmur his real name when you’re whispering soft praises underneath the tender care of his hands whenever he’s softly caressing your bare skin.

You don’t know enough about Mandalorian customs or traditions when it comes to their real names and you think that perhaps it’s taboo for him to share his name with outsiders. The last thing you want is to cause any offense or disrespect to his people that he evidently cherishes and you let out a soft sigh against his palm.

“Always thinking so much and never saying what’s on your mind,” He observes thoughtfully, not seeming upset by your quiet reluctance, “Your thoughts are safe with me, always.”

“I would not wish to offend you for what I want from you,” Another gentle press of your lips against the center of his palm has the huge warrior grunting once again and pushing himself further against you, “It would be selfish of me.���

“I would give you anything you wished for--” He breathes as your lips graze across his rough fingertips, “And knowing you, it is something that is not selfish.”

“How could you possibly know that, Mandalorian?”

“Because I know you are not a selfish woman,” He chuckles as your soft lips continue to praise his warm skin with great tenderness, though every time you think of the promise you made to your father and how easily you broke it, you feel like the most selfish woman in the galaxy, “Tell me what it is you wish for, cyar’ika, and I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”

His hand tenderly moves to cup your cheek and you know that he must feel how hot it burns for him--for the promise that his deep baritone carries and you fear that your heart will actually fail its main purpose.

“Even your name?”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika--anything.”

The way he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest almost leaves you in tears and steals the air from your lungs.

You smile at the way he grunts, as though he doesn’t know how to respond and you relish in the way you are able to reduce him to a state of being speechless when you’re certain that there aren’t many who had such an effect on him. For what you think must be the hundredth time in the last few hours, he leans down to gently nudge his forehead against yours and you shiver when he pulls you in close. Something about the way he holds you this close or how he softly rubs his scuffed up helmet against your head makes you think that these gentle headbutts hold more meaning and sentiment than you originally thought.

His hands find their home on your hips and you loathe that his cuirass and all the padding and equipment he wears prevents you from melting into him as he simply holds you close. Carefully, he drops his helmet into the curve of your neck and you hear the way he inhales deeply before releasing it and you think you feel some of his warm breath tickling your exposed skin. You remember him admitting how he oftentimes swore he could smell your hair--your flowers--and you wonder if that's what he's currently trying to do, even though you lack your usual violets.

“Paz.”

His voice utters a single syllable and your heart leaps high into your throat, threatening to choke you with the intense emotions you’re currently feeling.

Immediately, you grin when he reluctantly lifts his helmet to observe you, as though he's nervous of your reaction and you decide you don't mind seeing the Mandalorian act as sheepish as he often makes you feel.

"Paz," You repeat the three-lettered name out loud with a sheepish grin, your voice sounding so soft and quiet compared to the way he says it in that deep baritone; you say it again, a little louder and more sure of yourself,  "Paz. I… think it suits you."

He hums, shaking his scuffed up helmet at you and you think he must feel embarrassed, for whatever reason, "What's that supposed to mean?"

You force yourself not to giggle at the terseness in his crackly voice, “It is sweet and sharp, kind of piercing, just like you. It is gentle, but also rough--just one syllable and so short, but no less meaningful. It suits you and I… I love it.”

“My name?” He chuckles, and you almost loathe how amused he sounds as he hunches over to press his forehead against yours, "You love it?”

Your cheeks burn something fierce as you nod a little against his helmet, "Yes, but I also wonder, do you have a last name as well?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” He hums, his deep baritone rumbling like roaring thunder against your eardrums, “Perhaps one day I will give it to you.”

Your frantic heart instantly falters and your eyes widen as he gently grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles that you had previously been praising with your lips. You realize you must be overthinking his words, judging by how calm and cool he sounds as he murmurs soft words in his native tongue that barely make it past his vocoder. Though you've only known the Mandalorian for a few months, the thought of having such a future with him fills your belly with an intense heat and you don’t say anything out of fear of your voice shaking.

Suddenly, he pulls his helmet away and you frown at how frantic he suddenly seems to grow, immediately fearing the worst.

“Shit--I almost forgot after everything that happened last night.”

You watch with utter curiosity as he pulls away from you and makes his way over to where he had left his utility belt on your desk, carefully shuffling through one of the pouches with great intent and precision, “When I was traveling the last few days I saw something and it reminded me of you. I want you to have it.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion and you frantically shake your head when he turns around with a white cloth that’s wrapped around your unexpected gift, “You...? You just gave me something so precious--I couldn’t possibly--”

“It is nothing special,” He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the object, shaking his helmet at your anxious tone, “It didn’t cost me anything other than my pride when everyone in the tribe found out.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp when Paz reveals a beautiful white flower that’s the size of your palm, it’s long petals wispy and curled around the ends. You don’t even realize your eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t remember the last time someone has made you cry out of happiness, your cheeks aching from how big you’re smiling.

“I’m not sure what kind of flower it is,” He explains sheepishly when you don’t say anything, “Underneath the moonlight, the tips of the petals turn blue. I thought it might...”

He turns his visor away from your face when you grin up at him, “You thought what, Paz?”

“That it might look pretty behind your ear.”

“You--” Instead of saying anything else, you launch yourself at him and you’re surprised when he actually stumbles backwards the tiniest amount as you squeeze your arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckles and easily holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist and you’re too distracted by the beautiful gift to feel any discomfort from his gauntlets digging into your back.

“No one has ever given me a flower before,” You press your face into the crook of his neck and listen to the way he sighs your name when you kiss the bunched up fabric, “Th-Thank you.”

Paz reluctantly lets go of you when you move to tuck the flower safely behind your ear where he thought it would look prettiest and you give him an inquisitive expression, as if silently asking him to confirm his suspicions. 

“You are so beautiful,” He reaches out for you and for a moment, you think he’s going to touch your ear or stroke the big flower, but instead, his hand cradles your cheek in a way that steals your breath, “I... I don’t want to leave.”

“You must,” You remind him with a sympathetic smile, understanding his pain all too well, “We both have important jobs to do. I could walk with you as far as you would let me?”

He huffs, the thought of you walking with him no doubt an amusing one, but he nods as you carefully scoop up the vulptex in one arm and grab his elbow with the other, letting him lead the way. You notice that he walks slower, visor dutifully scanning his surroundings and you wonder if he’s always this cognizant of his surroundings or if it’s because of your presence. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not enough to make you shiver and you smile a little when the sun continues to slowly rise and warm you with it’s early-morning rays.

You close your eyes for just a few seconds, pretending you’re elsewhere with your Mandalorian, somewhere far more beautiful, and you’re certainly not aware of the way he stares down at you as he leads you further from the infirmary.

“I could not let you go any further,” Paz finally speaks about twenty minutes later, just outside the marketplace, and you turn to face him with a soft little smile, “Someone else from the tribe has been taking jobs in the village for the past few weeks and it is not safe for more than one of us to be above ground for too long.”

“There is no need to explain--I understand,” You reassure him, giving his elbow a firm squeeze and your heart soars when he taps his helmet to your forehead one last time, “Then I will see you soon again?”

“Yes,” He sighs gravely when you two reluctantly pull away from each other, “I mean it this time too. I am hoping the next time I see you, I will have good news, cyar’ika.”

You beam and cradle the vulptex securely to your chest with both arms. Though you don’t know exactly what kind of news he could possibly have that will affect you in any way, shape or form, you’re still excited to hear more about his tribe--his people--and you give him a frantic nod. After saying your goodbyes and blushing when he gives your chin a little tap and a reminder to keep your head up, you make your way back to the infirmary, a bittersweet sensation lingering like a dark cloud over your heart.

“It’s okay, little one,” You gently shush the vulptex when she lets out with a sharp whine, as though your downtrodden disposition is affecting her also, “At least we have each other, right?”

You give her a soft smile when her eyes slowly blink up at you and even though you should feel ridiculous for talking to an animal, it doesn’t stop you and you continue to tell her of your hopes and dreams for the future--your wants and desires pertaining to your blue Mandalorian. A part of you realizes there’s something cathartic about speaking to someone or something that doesn’t actually know what your saying, perhaps because you know that your crystalline companion won’t judge you.

Before you can tell her that you long to run away from all this, you freeze when you look away from your confidante to check your surroundings, only to be met with the sight of a figure storming towards you with a blaster trained on your vulptex.

You’re not sure what fills you with more fear--

The fact that you’re already going to lose your precious companion, or the familiarity of the t-shaped visor that’s pointed directly at you.

Ner= My, mine

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Saviin=Violet

Cyar’ika=Darling, sweetheart

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Taglist *If I missed anyone or anyone wants to be added, please let me know!*:  @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok​

[secretlysheikah]

Watching Water

Look at me Gooooo! The next chapter ready to go! I’m chuffed, this was actually easy to write! I hope you all enjoy! As always I took inspiration from @jojo56830 and their lovely Linked Universe premise. Very cool I suggest you check them out. 

Start here:

Twilight peeled his eyes open to the soft rays of the midmorning sunlight filtering through the window above his bed and groaned. He felt awful. His head throbbed a slow and steady beat against the back of his eyes and his body felt like lead. He pulled his blankets snug around his chin, as he felt a shiver run through him. A cough quickly followed and he grimaced as he felt it rumble through his frame. As far as mornings go it wasn’t the best way to start the day. He shut his eyes tightly and talked himself through the process of sitting up. It took a monumental effort to lift himself to a seated position and his whole body protested loudly at the motion. The room swam around him and he had to take a minute to steady himself, ignoring the temptation to lay back down. 

This was fine, he was fine, he had to be. There were things that needed to be done and laying in bed simply wasn’t an option given the events of the previous day. Before he could submit to the call of his bed he swung his legs over the side with wobbly determination. A chill shot up his legs when his feet touched the cool floorboards and he wondered if the fire had gone out in the night. He could hear the light chatter of voices filtering up from the floor below followed by the soft clinks of plates and cutlery. 

He couldn’t smell anything but it was possible that no one felt the will to cook anything. He couldn't blame the others, not with Wild being… He shook his head, pushing the thought away for now and marveled at how the world continued to bob and weave long after he stopped. That probably wasn’t a good sign. The whole atmosphere of the house felt wrong, even as full as his house was right now, it still felt empty and he knew who to blame. He stoked the anger in his soul, using it as fuel to spur himself up and out of bed.  

Twilight felt another cough rumble out from his chest and he winced. He wasn’t sick, no, he was just waking up, that was all. He rubbed at his sore eyes and gave a stretch, pointedly ignoring the way his body threw up fresh protests to the movement. He ignored the cold that seeped into his bones and finally stood. The room swung dangerously and he steadied himself on the railing next to his bed and looked down. He could see Time, Legend and Hyrule sitting at the small table below. They were talking quietly as they picked at some dried fruit and cheese they had found in his pantry. He couldn’t see the others but he was sure they were somewhere. 

He carefully shuffled to the ladder and made his slow way down to the bottom floor. His hands felt clumsy, and he worried he might lose his grip a few times but he managed with little incident. His feet made little noise as they touched the floorboards below and he held on to the rungs until he was sure he was steady enough to move again.

“Good morning pup, I hope you…” Time started and stopped when he got a look at him. Twilight blinked a few times and offered a slow wave as he made his careful way over to the fire to stoke up the flames. He was freezing and he was surprised that the others were handling the chill of the room so well. 

“Uh, hey Twi, how are you feeling?” Hyrule called out tentatively and Twilight spared him a glance. He could see worry on his face and Twilight noticed how his fingers drummed on the table top. He raised an eyebrow and offered him a small smile. 

“I’m alright, Rule, just a little cold.” He said simply masking another cough behind the dull thump of the log that he tossed onto the fire. Heat flared up from the fireplace and he sighed happily as he felt some of the chill recede from his fingertips. 

“Are you sure? Because you look a little…” Hyrule said as his hands waved through the air aimlessly. 

“You look like a ghost,” Legend said tactlessly as he stood and made his way from around the table towards him. Twilight eyed him warily but didn’t move away as Legend grabbed at his sleeve to steady him. 

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all,” Twilight protested as Legend put the back of his hand against his forehead. He hissed and pulled away. 

“Stop that, your hands are cold,” Twilight groused as he slapped Legend’s hand away. He couldn’t read the other man’s expression and he wasn’t about to try. 

 “You have a fever, go lay down,” Legend said sternly and Twilight rolled his eyes. He was sure the vet was overreacting, he was standing next to the fire, of course he would feel warm. 

“I’m fine, you guys worry too much,” Twilight said as he slowly made his way over to the small bucket of water sitting on the counter. His throat did feel a little sore, but that surely was nothing, a little water would solve that. He felt himself sway and caught himself on the edge of the counter before he reached for a small cup that sat next to the bucket. He cleared his throat as he dipped it into the water and watched as ripples marred the still surface. A hazy memory from the night before, of crystal blue eyes looking out from a puddle floated to the forefront of his mind. It nagged at him, and he found he couldn’t look away from the rippling water.    

“Pup, you need to go lay down,” Time said and Twilight could hear the legs of the chair scrape across the floor as Time began to stand. 

“I told you I’m fine, we have… To plan...” Twilight said as he felt his breath leave him. His legs felt shaky all of a sudden, his hand quickly joined his legs and he had to sit his cup down for fear of dropping it. Had he imagined seeing Wild the other night in the water? Somehow he didn’t think so.  

“That can wait, you are clearly unwell,” Time continued but his voice seemed far away. The room was too small, like he had grown to the size of a giant while also feeling absurdly small all at the same time. The juxtaposition of the two opposing sensations felt overwhelming and it was getting harder to breathe and his hands began to grow numb. He could sense the others getting to their feet but things felt slowed down and too fast. He blinked, then he was staring at the ceiling. The room was silent around him but he suspected that that wasn’t actually the case. He could feel the rumble of floorboards under his back, his back? He looked around and to his surprise he found that he could see the underside of the table and the now abandoned chairs. How did he get on the floor? Nothing was making any sense and his racing heart only added to his distress. He blinked some more and the sound finally came back to the room. 

“I fucking told you!” Legend shouted (was he shouting?) as he knelt down next to him, as his cold hand came to rest against his forehead. Twilight tried to shake it off but the room spun wildly when he did and so he stopped. Why did it feel like he just got done running? He was pretty sure he was just standing not a moment ago but his heart was pounding against his ribcage and he was struggling to draw in breath.  

“Are you alright pup?” Time asked from his other side and Twilight felt distinctly confused. He was still having a hard time making sense of everything that was happening. 

“Why am I on the floor?” He asked stupidly, and even to his own ears it sounded slurred and slow. 

“You just passed out you moron,” Legend said tersely as he stood and stepped over him. Passed out? But he was fine? Right? Twilight groaned and tried to sit up but a new pair of hands pressed him gently to the floor again. A low whine escaped him but he relented, instead opting to rest his hands against his aching head, covering his eyes. His palms blocked out the light stabbing into his eyes and he felt this heart beginning to slow once more.  

“Hey, move your hands, I want to check the back of your head. You hit the floor pretty hard just now,” The soft voice of Hyrule commanded him and Twilight relented allowing him to turn his head to the side. Gentle fingers prodded at the back of his head and he sucked in a breath as Hyrule found a particularly tender spot. Maybe that’s why his head hurt so badly? 

“Okay, it’s not too bad, let me just,” Hyrule said slowly and Twilight could feel a warm tingling flutter across the back of his skull making the world blur at the corners. It helped somewhat with the pain but he could still feel the dull ache behind his eyes.  

“Alright, that should be better,” Hyrule announced and Twilight gave him a noncommittal grunt. 

“Can we move him?” He heard Time’s concerned voice rumble out above him as his hand came to rest against his head.

“Well we can’t leave him on the damn floor. Where the fuck are your rags Twi?” Legend snapped out from somewhere towards his feet, followed by the clunk of a cabinet shutting. He felt Time gently run his fingers through his hair and he leaned into subconsciously. 

“They’re u-uh, w-wait, I can get them,” Twilight stammered, as his sluggish brain had trouble recalling where exactly they could be without actually going to get them himself. 

“Forget it, I’ll get some from my pack, get him to bed,” Legend said dismissively as another cabinet door clicked shut and the sound of his footsteps stalked away from the small kitchen. Twilight huffed in annoyance. Great now Legend was mad at him. 

“Alright pup, slow and steady,” Time said calmly as he and Hyrule grabbed at his arms and began to lift him to his feet. Twilight felt the room spin with the movement and he felt Time and Hyrule support his back. Seeing as his bed was up a set of ladders, they slowly made their way to the couch against the underside of the loft instead and sat him down gently. Twilight felt himself sag into the soft cushions and before he realized it he was laying down with several blankets on top of him. He still felt the chill of the room in his bones and he pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. 

“Are you comfortable?” Hyrule asked and Twilight managed a small nod. He was so tired, and sore and even the act of keeping his eyes open was a challenge. He fought sleep, though, it didn’t feel right to rest just yet, they had to work on getting the others back. The memory of the puddle still hung in the forefront of his mind and he felt the urge to tell the others building in his chest. 

“I’m fine, just need to rest a bit then we can figure out our plan to get Sky and Wild back,” Twilight said through slightly chattering teeth. 

“I think the water is the key,” Twilight forced out between coughs and Hyrule shot a worried glance towards Time. Twilight hated that look, like they thought he was a invalid even though he was fine. They had things to do, plans to make, they didn’t have time for this. The water, he had to tell them. 

“Pup, you need to rest, we will figure out a plan, but for now you need to rest,” Time said softly taking up the spot next to Hyrule. Twilight snorted and felt a cough force itself out between his teeth. Hyrule gave him a sad smile and reached out towards Twilight’s forehead, humming as he judged his fever. 

“Please Time, they don’t time for us to wait around, the water...” Twilight pleaded weakly but he could tell he wasn’t getting anywhere. Time had a hard look in his eye that brooked no argument but he still tried anyway. They needed to know, they had to listen to him. He opened his mouth to continue but was cut off by his mentor. 

“Hyrule, can you give us a moment please?” Time said softly and Hyrule nodded before stepping away. 

“I’ll help Legend find some rags, your fever is high Twilight, get some rest, please.” Hyrule said over his shoulder before he walked away. Twilight ignored the comment and turned his attention to Time once again. 

“Please,” Twilight began again but was stopped when Time shushed him. 

“Twilight, listen to me, you are in no condition to worry about this. You nearly drowned yesterday and you are clearly ill and not making sense,” Twilight opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by a stern glare. 

“Stop, I can see it in your eyes, this is not your burden to bear alone and I will not allow you to run yourself into the ground yet again,” Time said and Twilight could hear a thread of anger lacing his words. He looked away from his mentor, a flash of shame making his cheeks heat up.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Twilight said stubbornly as he squinted back at Time who offered his own stern stare back. 

“Pup, that’s enough. You’re hurting yourself. Think of Sky and Wild. You are no good to them if you can’t even think straight,” Time pressed and this time he rested a heavy hand against the blankets. Twilight felt his heart give a painful throb at his words. How could he rest knowing the others were in danger? What if Wild was being tortured? What if Sky was doing… He swallowed hard, he couldn’t think that way.  

“You are ill, if you won't do it for yourself, then think of the others. You need to get your rest so you can help.” Time said, his voice lowering to a whisper as he leaned his forehead against Twilight’s. Twilight felt his eyes close and he choked back a harsh frustrated sob. Why wouldn’t Time just listen to him? Why did he feel so damn weak? He was supposed to be a hero for Goddess’s sake but here he was laying down when others were in danger. 

They stayed like that for a while, Twilight forcing back frustrated tears that burned his throat, and Time just resting his forehead against his while occasionally running a hand through Twilight’s hair. Despite his frustration he found it soothing and before he knew it his body felt relaxed and his eyes were staying closed for longer periods of time. His thoughts became well and truly muddled and after a while he couldn’t piece together anything even resembling coherent. He wasn’t sure when Time had left his side, or when a cool cloth had been laid across his forehead, but he was too tired to care anymore. He let his eyes fall closed as he felt the room continue the sway around him, and he let the soft motion rock him to sleep.        

*******

Everything was a shade of gray, washed out and dull. Twilight sat on the same log as he did the night before and watched the puddle at his feet. Faint music cut in and out around him but his eyes never left the water. It was important that he watch, and wait. So wait he did. The wind tousled his hair and leaves landed in the water making the mirror smooth surface ripple. 

He leaned down and plucked the leaves from the pool, determined to keep the water clear. More leaves continued to fall and obscure the surface and he quickly became frantic as he tried to keep the leaves from blocking his view. He had to see, he had to wait. More leaves fell. 

He knelt next to the water, no longer a puddle but a lake covered with leaves. He scooped them out by the hand full heedless of the constant ripples that were quickly turning to waves. A brilliant flash of blue eyes appeared in the depths of the sea and he shot a hand down into the water, reaching, questing. His hands felt nothing but the soft shifting sand below and he burrowed his hands deep into the sediment. 

Soon he was up to his armpits into the water, face inches away from the  dark liquid. The blue eyes continued to stare at him. Wild’s face came into focus and Twilight watched as he mouthed words to him that he couldn’t understand. 

“Hold on, cub!” He cried out as he dug his hands deeper feeling his fingertips grow cold as they scraped their way deeper into the waterlogged soil. Water tickled at the tip of his nose, Wild’s eyes looked desperate. Just a little more, he had to dig a little deeper. 

“Who are you looking for?” A voice called out from behind him but he didn’t stop his single minded determination to pull Wild from the water. 

“He’s in the water! I just need to get to him!” Twilight said desperately, hands still fumbling in the cold sand. 

“Who is in the water?” The voice asked quietly and Twilight spared a glance from his task, seeing a dark silhouette standing on the far off shore. Waves lapped at their feet, a sparkle of green eyes broke the shades of gray. The green eyes met his own and he stopped his endless digging. 

“Wild, I can see his eyes, he’s in the water, we have to get him out!” He shouted to the figure. They tilted their head but said nothing more before they faded away into the misty gray. He turned his attention back to the water and saw blue. He kept digging. The water rose around him and soon his face was under the water, bubbles billowing out from his nose as he dug. 

Blue eyes with gold hair, just below him. His heart raced and he needed air. He went to kick off from the watery bed below but felt a hand grab at his wrist. He looked down but instead of blue he saw red. More bubbles exploded out from his mouth and he tried to wrench away. 

“You want to see them so badly, then why won’t you join them?” Dark’s voice rang out from below him and his heart raced in fear. He struggled as his arm was pulled into the sand. He threw a desperate hand towards the distant surface of the sea and longed for air. He sank further into the sand and he drew in a breath of water no longer able to hold his breath. 

Twilight’s eyes shot open as he coughed and gasped for air. His chest burned as he coughed harder and gagged feeling weighed down. He worked a hand free from the weight and clawed at his collar trying to get the pressure away from his throat. Hands grabbed at his own and he fought weakly against them. 

“Calm down, let me help,” Someone said quickly as nimble fingers undid the buttons around his collar. Twilight let himself fall back against the pillows at his back as he worked through his coughing fit. His head throbbed painfully and he weakly pulled against the fabric at his throat even as the pressure receded. He drew in deep greedy breaths and shut his eyes against the faint light. He was shaking but he wasn’t sure if that was due to his fit or the nightmare. 

“That’s right, just breathe,” 

Twilight nodded slightly and just focused on drawing in more air. It was hard, his lungs felt weighed down and sluggish. His throat felt hot and raw and he swallowed against the burn with a grimace. 

“Do you need some water? You were muttering about it for the past few hours,” 

Twilight cracked an eye open and looked at Hyrule hovering at the side of the couch. His green eyes shone with worry and he held a cup in his hands. Twilight felt his stomach churn at the mention of water and he shook his head. 

“Please? You need to drink something,” He pleaded and Twilight squinted his eyes shut and continued to shake his head. 

“No water, I don’t want it,” He rasped even as his throat burned with a vengeance. 

“Don’t be dafted, you’re getting dehydrated,” Hyrule said and he felt the cup being pressed to his lips. He turned his head to the side and flung out a hand knocking the cup away. He heard it clatter to the ground. There was a curse as someone stood quickly from the side of the couch followed by a larger splash of water. 

“Damn it! Really?” Twilight opened his eyes and looked over to Legend as he stood next to the couch a wet splotch on his pants and a sour look on his face. He held a steaming cup in his hands and a tipped over bucket was at his feet. The floorboards looked dark with the water that had been tipped onto the floor, the cup he had knocked away a few inches away. Hyrule stood in the water head down and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s alright, we can go get more when Time comes back.” He said calmly and Twilight felt a pang of guilt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I can,” Twilight said as he struggled to sit up more. 

“No don’t get up, just…” Hyrule said as he made his way back over to Twilight, his boots leaving wet footprints on the dry sections of floor before he bent down and scooped up the discarded cup. 

“Hyrule is right, just lay down Twi, we’ll clean this up in a minute. But you need to drink something,” Legend said as he sat back down on the edge of the couch and held out the steaming cup to him. Twilight eyed it blearily, the pale green liquid steamed innocently below his nose. 

“What is it?” He asked after a beat, noticing the slight tremor in the vet’s hand. 

“It’s tea,” Legend said slowly, the cup still held out to him. Twilight leveled a glare at him.

“What kind of tea? Who made it?” He asked, still not making a move to take it from Legend’s hand. The vet pursed his lips but didn’t pull his offering away. 

“What is this? Twenty questions?” Legend deflected and Twilight said nothing as he continued to stare into Legend’s reddish brown eyes. Legend shuffled uncomfortably but still stubbornly held out the cup. 

“It’s an herbal tea with some honey to help with your throat,” He said quietly, ignoring the second question entirely. Legend’s eyes darted to Hyrule for a moment, nervousness evident in the glance. 

“Honey huh? Is that what you added to Wild’s tea?” Twilight asked casually and watched as Legend’s posture stiffened slightly and he visibly swallowed. 

“Please, not here Twi,” Legend whispered as he motioned for him to take the cup. Twilight shot his own look to Hyrule who looked confused as he looked between the two. He still didn’t take the cup from Legend’s hand. 

“What will it do?” He asked after another tense moment and Legend sighed and finally pulled the cup away. 

“It will help with your throat for one, and seeing as you were having some sort of nightmare it should also help keep the dreams away for a while, at least,” he said slowly as he tapped the side of the cup and stared into the swirling liquid. 

“I take it when I don’t want to dream and it helps,” Legend said quietly, like he was admitting a terrible secret. Twilight considered the cup thoughtfully. But the memory of that night so long ago (had it really been just a week?) still simmered away in his mind. 

“No sleeping potion?” He asked in the barest of whispers and this time he saw Legend flinch slightly. 

“No,” He muttered between his teeth “I didn’t think you needed it.” Twilight forced the small flame of anger down and hummed softly as he considered, Legend was clearly trying to help, and he clearly meant no harm. The promise of a dreamless sleep was tantalizing and his tired mind craved peace even as another part of him felt awful for even considering going back to sleep. His hand reached out and plucked the cup out of Legend’s hands before he realized what he was doing. 

“No dreams?” He asked as he lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed. It smelled pleasantly earthy and slightly sweet. His heart twisted at the thought, like he was somehow betraying Wild by even accepting the cup. 

“None,” Legend confirmed as he stood and grabbed the bucket off the ground, keeping his eyes averted from Twilight’s. He nodded and before he even realized he had done it, he drank the lukewarm tea down before he could talk himself out of the promise of peace the tea offered. He was weak. It warmed and soothed his aching throat and tingled as it hit his empty stomach.

When it was finally gone Twilight let himself fall back onto the pillows enjoying the feeling of warmth that creeped into his cold bones. He held the cup out and someone, Hyrule maybe, took it from him. He was tired and sore and all he wanted was to be left alone with his growing feeling of guilt. He turned over so his back faced the room and pulled the blankets around his chin. He could hear the faint sounds of shuffling and fabric shifting but didn’t make a move to look round.

“Time will be back soon and then we will go and fetch more water,” Hyrule said softly as his hands rubbed soothing circles onto his back for a moment. Twilight couldn’t bring himself to answer. His silence seemed to be enough and he heard the pair move away. He stared at the back of the couch as his eyelids slid closed and the room continued to tilt and shift around him. Somehow drinking the tea, choosing dreamless nothing, felt like he was turning his back on trying to find a way to get Sky and Wild back them. Hot tears worked themselves out of his eyes and with a watery sigh, he let himself fall into pleasant nothing.

***********

Hyrule stared at Legend’s back as he placed the empty bucket on the counter top and moved to grab some of the rags that they had found. He wasn’t sure what Twilight was talking about when he was asking about the tea Legend had made but it was clear that it meant something to him. The room felt stuffy and close, and tension made his heart flutter. 

Legend moved wordlessly to the puddle of water on the floor and began to mop it up, studiously ignoring Hyrule’s questioning glances. He chose to let the conversation die for now and looked back over to Twilight as he slept peacefully. He could tell by the rise and fall of the blankets that he was still shivering despite the closeness of the room. 

Legend stood as the last of the water was dried from the ground, and walked over to the dying fire to hang the rags up to dry before stoking the flagging flames. Hyrule really wished he wouldn’t, it was already too hot in the room. But he did nothing to stop Legend as he threw another log on the fire. The silence was quickly becoming uncomfortable and he could feel his fingers twitch in agitation. He let out a small cough, drawing Legend’s eyes to him. 

“Your pants are wet,” He commented lamely, not knowing what to say to try to dispel the tension. Legend glanced down at his pant leg where the cup of water had splashed him when Twilight knocked the cup out of his hand. Legend continued to stare at his soaked pant leg and shrugged. 

“It’s not too bad, I’m sorry I knocked over the bucket,” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed to be struggling for just what to say as well.

“It’s okay, we just need to go get more water that’s all,” The pair stood in silence once more, both fidgeting and not knowing what to say next. Hyrule coughed again and shuffled his feet and Legend hummed tunelessly. The silence grew oppressive again. 

“How much did you hear?” Legend asked after an age of awkward shuffling. Hyrule wasn’t sure how to respond. He had heard just about all of it even though he had tried his best not to. 

“I heard enough of it to have questions,” He said quietly and Legend let out a loud groan and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Fucking brilliant,” He groaned and suddenly Hyrule couldn’t catch his gaze no matter how hard he tried. He had gathered that Legend had made tea for Wild at some point, and apparently had done something to it but he couldn’t recall when that would have been. There were gaps in his memory and he didn’t remember Legend ever giving Wild anything. He was about to start asking questions when Time quietly opened the front door and made his way inside. Legend seemed grateful for the distraction and quickly turned his attention to the older man. 

“How is he doing?” Time asked as he made his way over to the couch and sat down making sure not to disturb Twilight’s rest. 

“He’s still got a fever, but he woke up for a little bit,” Legend said as he too walked over to the couch and leaned against the wall. Hyrule marveled at how quickly he changed gears, smoothly hiding the tension from not moments before and shifting into an air of calm nonchalance. Time nodded and rested a hand on Twilight’s back a small worried smile on his face before looking at the damp floorboards with a raised eyebrow. 

“I knocked over the bucket by accident,” Legend said with a shrug, “Rule and I were waiting for you to get back so we could go fetch some more.” Time nodded tiredly but didn’t comment on it. 

“The others found a small village, they went to grab some supplies so they might be a little while,” he said as he gently smoothed Twilight’s hair. 

“Has he had anything to drink?” Time asked without looking up. At that Legend shuffled slightly and Hyrule quickly jumped in to answer. 

“Yes, it was a bit of a hassle but we got him to drink a little something,” He said as he shot a glance at Legend. He was looking at the floor, still refusing to meet his gaze. Time hummed in acknowledgement and pulled out an old, worn looking ocarina from his side pouch. It was rare to see him play anything. He only ever seemed to play when one of them was hurt or injured and even then it was usually the same song each time. Hyrule wasn’t sure what it was, but it was lovely and soothing and always made him feel better when he heard it. It proved just how worried he must be about Twilight if he was going to play the little instrument again after he had spent the entire morning playing.  

Twilight was rarely ill and even then he never complained, never took the time to rest only claiming that he had ‘things that needed doing’. Everyone would always make sure to take things easy for a couple days of course, and sometimes they would make him go to bed early but that was always a struggle. So Hyrule could understand Time’s worry seeing how frail and small Twilight looked under all the blankets. This was his way of soothing Twilight as well as himself. Doing something even though there wasn’t much he could actually do.   

“Will you be alright if we went to go get some water?” Hyrule asked, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be out of the house. He couldn’t bear to look at Twilight’s shivering form anymore. 

“Of course, just be careful. I didn’t see any monsters on the way back from the spring but that doesn’t mean much,” He said softly as he brought the ocarina to his lips and began to play softly. Hyrule nodded quickly and practically ran over to the bucket and scooped it up. Legend pulled himself away from the wall almost reluctantly and joined him as he hurried out the door and down the ladder. 

The fresh air filled his lungs and replaced the stifling heat that had been swirling in his lungs. Legend lagged behind and Hyrule had to force his steps to slow so he wouldn’t lose his mentor. They continued to walk in silence for a little. Legend a dark and glowering presence to his energetic nervous one.      

“Go on, ask your questions. I can tell you’re dying to know,” He said, breaking the silence with a defeated finality. Hyrule hugged the bucket closer to himself as he thought about which question he wanted to start with first. 

“When did you make tea for Wild? I can’t remember you ever giving him any recently,” Hyrule started after a moment of thought. 

“You wouldn’t remember, it was after the incident at the tower. You were out cold at the time,” Legend said mechanically, eyes firmly on the road ahead. Hyrule was about to ask another question but was cut off when Legend continued.

“Twilight and I had brought Wild back to the camp and... Goddess I didn’t want you to find out this way. In fact I was planning on not telling you or anyone about it at all,“ Legend said suddenly twitchy and now actively looking anywhere else but Hyrule. 

“Legend, what happened?” He asked quietly. Legend took in a shaky breath, stumbling slightly as they rounded the corner into the spring proper. They paused halfway to the water’s edge, Hyrule still held onto the bucket like a life line as he waited for Legend to continue. 

“Wild was dead set on getting out of there. He was convinced of another attack. He looked at us like we were about to kill him.” Legend forced out between his teeth and he didn’t like how his eyes seemed dull and lifeless. His hands clenched his tunic as he worked through his emotions. 

“I was terrified Rule, I had promised something I shouldn’t have. I told him that we would leave even though I knew we wouldn’t,” Hryule could see tears in the corners of his eyes but he felt suddenly mute. 

“I lied to him, Rule. I thought maybe when he was given some time to rest and know he was safe he would sleep and rest. Then I saw his eyes, I saw how he watched all of us and how he flinched when Sky, Sky of all people was sitting next to him and I just knew.” Legend was breathing heavily, tears beginning to streak down his face. Hyrule felt frozen unable to move and not knowing what to do. This had been clearly eating away at him for some time and the thought that he was planning on never telling another soul pained him. Hyrule wondered if keeping this to himself was his form of atonement. 

“So I made a choice,” He gasped.

“I did something that I knew would earn me his distrust, I mean how much worse could it be? Wild already seemed to distrust us as it was,” Legend said as he swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe.   

“Oh Legend, what did you do?” Hyrule asked so quietly he wasn’t even sure if he had spoken. Things were starting to click together and it made his heart hurt. 

“I made him some tea, the same kind I normally make for myself when I know I can’t sleep for fear of nightmares and dreams. Except I added an extra ingredient.” He whispered eyes staring at the sand below them. Hyrule felt his heart stutter. 

“I put just a splash of a sleeping potion in. Not a lot, just enough to tip him over into sleep. He was hurt and clearly exhausted so I knew it wouldn’t take much.”  He hiccupped and wiped at his eyes. 

“Legend,”

“I knew it was wrong, I knew but I did it anyway. I felt dead inside after he drank it and the look he gave me. Goddesses above the betrayal, Hyrule. I knew, I just knew. I convinced myself that it had to be done. Then Twilight, he found out and confirmed it and I don’t know how I had enough strength to help put Wild to bed after that.” Legend threw his head back suddenly and let out a pained yell into the air before he squatted down and buried his head into his hands. 

“Tell me I'm a terrible person Rule! I earned it! I am worse than scum just say it! I’m no hero, I’m a fucking coward! Just say it, please, just get it over with,” Legend begged, head still in his hands as he shuddered. 

Hyrule wasn’t sure when he had dropped the bucket. He didn’t know when he had wrapped up Legend in the tightest hug he could. Legend was shaking and Hyrule wasn’t sure if it was from crying or just the aftermath of telling him his secret. Hyrule shushed him and rubbed his back gently as the older hero quietly raged against him. 

It all made sense now, Legend’s guilty almost manic behavior, Wild’s angry glances that he gave Legend for days, Twilight’s questions and suspicious glares when he was offered the tea. Hyrule squeezed him tighter and Legend squirmed slightly like he was trying to push him away. 

“You’re not scum Legend. You made a mistake sure but it doesn’t make you scum, and it doesn’t make you a terrible person,” He felt Legend freeze in his arms. 

“How can you say that? Did you even listen to what I said?” He asked shakily and Hyrule closed his eyes as he buried his head in Legend’s shoulder. 

“I heard you, and I know how you feel. But I’m here to say that you are not a terrible person. You were scared, and worried and you didn’t see another way. I won’t hold that against you, it was just a mistake,” Hyrule said firmly. 

“I don’t think I even said sorry, only that I would make it up to him. Now he’s gone Rule, he’s gone and I did nothing. I couldn’t do anything except watch.” He said softly as his arms finally came around and returned the hug. Hyrule felt tears sting at his own eyes as he remembered the previous day. He took in a breath and steeled himself. 

“We will get them back,”

“I know,”

“Do you?” Hyrule asked and Legend paused before he answered. 

“I don’t know,” He said after a moment. “I don’t have a lot of hope...” Legend admitted quietly and that had a tear run down his cheek at the words Legend hadn’t said. He didn’t have hope that they would ever see Wild alive again. Hyrule swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.      

“Well then I’ll just have to have hope for the both of us,” Hyrule said gently as he pulled away from the hug and looked into Legend’s red puffy eyes. Hyrule offered him a smile which to his surprise was returned, even if it was a bit wonky. 

“Thank you Rule, I don’t deserve you,” He said and Hyrule let out a small laugh. 

“You deserve love and understanding Legend, more than you let yourself have,” He said softly and Legend nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure if Legend was accepting that fact, or if he was just nodding to appease him but he let it go for now. 

“Now, I think it’s time we get that water and go back to the house,” He said as he stood and grabbed the bucket. Legend stood as well and followed him to the shallow water. As carefully as he could Hyrule dipped the bucket in, trying to keep the sand and sediment out of the bucket as he did so. 

“Wild!?!” Legend shouted suddenly causing Hyrule to finch and drop the bucket. His head snapped to Legend and followed his eye line to the small waterfalls at the other side of the spring. He felt his mouth drop open as he saw someone silhouetted against the water. Legend rushed into the spring Hyrule following hot on his heels. Water splashed out from their running feet as they moved through the water and over the slippery rocks. 

Getting closer he could see Wild looking back at them but something was off. It was like he was rippling, his form wavering in the water. When they got close enough they stopped and stared. Wild stared back at them, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide before he lifted his arms and waved at them. Hyrule’s mind couldn’t wrap itself around what he was seeing, it was Wild yes, but just a reflection like the water was some sort of odd window. Before they could ask a question or even get closer, they saw Wild look behind himself and disappear. 

“By the Goddess, did you just?” Hyrule started to ask.

“You saw him too right?” Legend asked at the same time and they both looked over at each other. A quiet communication passing between them as they confirmed that they both had seen the same thing. Without another word Legend turned on his heel and began to slosh back towards shore, stumbling slightly on the rocks as he went and Hyrule made to follow. 

“No! Stay here in case he comes back! I’ll get the others! Just stay here!” He yelled over his shoulder as he hit the shore and ran off towards the tree house. Hyrule watched him go, as he left him and the bucket behind.  

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Concussion- Prompt Fill

Jon falls out of a Kayak

CW nausea, concussion, hospital mention

Thanks for reading! I am still accepting bingo prompts (Bing card by the wonderful @celosiaa​)! Tell me a character and which prompt, and let me know if you want art or writing! The starred prompts are ones I already have received, and probably have outlined! (I am much faster at art just fyi).  Sorry this one took so long, I wrote it a week ago and hated it! 

Jon doesn’t like the outdoors.  In his experience it’s loud or wet or sandy or bright or crowded or filled with bugs or hot or spider ridden or just generally uncomfortable.  

But that doesn't matter, because he needs to prove that things are alright with Tim.  He has finally earned enough trust or goodwill or something to be invited on a kayaking trip.  

Even back when things were good, Jon rarely got invited along to these things.  Tim knows Jon isn't the outdoorsy sort, but occasionally invites him so he doesn't feel excluded.  

A traitorous part of Jon thinks that he was only invited as a joke.  But more of Jon doesn't care if that is true.  He earned that invitation, and it doesn't matter that he is baking in the heat or that driving to the lake made him carsick or that he already has 30 mosquito bites and counting.  He.  Does.  Not.  Care.  

It doesn't matter because he is here with Tim.  And Tim is having a good time.  

They paddle around the secluded lake for a couple hours.  Jon almost has fun.  He isn't having a bad time.  Tim has been cracking jokes, and Jon is having something adjacent to fun.  Not to mention... it just feels damn good to be included.  Usually it's Tim and Sasha, or on occasion Tim and Martin.  Not that this is the first time since... everything that Tim and Jon have been alone together... it's just.... Kayaking is important to Tim.  And Jon rarely merits such a heartfelt invitation.  And even if it isn't really his scene.  It's worth the itchiness, and sore muscles, and carsickness and oppressive heat.  It is all worth it.  

Jon doesn't really know how he ends up in the water.  One minute he is breathing hard, his back and shoulders burning after all that paddling, trying to convince himself that he probably doesn't need his inhaler (that he left in the car in any case), the next... he is in the water.  Life vest dragging him towards the surface... or where the surface would be if the kayak wasn't in the way.  

He cracks his head on textured, blue plastic, and it doesn't even have time to hurt before Tim is hauling him out of the lake.  

He can't say it really hurts.  Just the surprise, and  the moment of timelessness and involuntary tears when something smacks a person from nowhere.  The brief moment of everything being a little too sharp and a little too blurry all at once.  

He coughs as he breaks the surface and Tim's strong arms lift him back into the kayak as if he weighs nothing (which... Martin would say is the case).  It's probably the firefighter training.  

Water is streaming off him, and there is some sort of weed tangled in his hair.  

"Boss, you alright, there?" Tim clapping him on the shoulder, almost knocking him out of the kayak again.  (Jon isn't sure if the fact that it is a two seater is better or worse).  "Whoa there!"

Tim is steading him again.  He's honestly feeling a little dizzy and a little distant.  But that's probably just the surprise, right?  Probably.  

"Not your boss," he grumbles, trying his best to scowl despite how Bright everything is, and how he really is very very damp and how maybe jeans weren't his smartest move today.  He lets that hang for a beat.  "...Thanks Tim."  

He offers a tiny smile, trying not to shrink in on himself, like he did... back then.  

"Fine, you alright, buddy?  What even happened?"

Jon shrugs.  "I'm in one piece, I think."  

Tim fishes in the water for Jon's dropped paddle.  "Maybe it's time we head back, wouldn't want that to happen again.  I need you in top form if you wanna come out again with me!"  

His head is starting to hurt.  

Jon flushes slightly.  "I'd... really like that, Tim."

Tim hands him back the paddle and they head back towards shore, and the car, and their respective domesticities.  

The headache isn't exactly gone by the evening, but it isn't bad.  Not worth telling Martin about, although he couldn't escape Tim telling Martin how he fell out of the kayak, and having Tim show Martin the pictures of one very damp and disgruntled Jonathan Sims dripping in the kayak, and Jon in Tim's spare workout clothes in the car.  And Jon looking faintly ill with ginger ale clutched tightly with eyes closed on the way back.  And of course the selfie with Tim giving him a sloppy cheek smooch while Jon wears a truly terrible hat that he has no idea why Tim owns.  

Tim stays for dinner.  

By the time that Jon wakes up, Martin has already left for work.  

His head hurts.  Not migraine bad, but he makes a mental note to tuck some excedrin into his bag just in case.  Best to be prepared for these things.  

He drags himself upright with a groan, trying to ignore the way that the room tilts for a few moments as he gets up.  

School.  

Right.  

He's got work today.  And as long as Martin isn't there to be disappointed in his decision making, a headache is not going to stop him.  

It's too bright outside, and Jon isn’t hungry for breakfast.  Tea counts as breakfast, right?  That's good enough.  There's milk and sugar in there... that has to have enough calories to count for something, right?  It's fine.  

Halfway through class, Jon has to sit down.  Abruptly.  His lecture trailing off into a dizzy silence.  

The headache has become too distracting, the tilting of the room around him making it hard to stay tethered to the Earth's gravity.  He presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids, trying to stop the listing of the room.  

He hears a student calling his name, but he can't make himself parse out who.  And the Eye doesn't seem inclined to tell him.  

Which is probably for the best, because he is beginning to wonder if he can take much more headache.  

He doesn't know how long he's been down, but Martin is there now.  

Fluttering hands, checking him for a temperature, coaxing him to look up, shielding him from the fluorescent lighting.  

Jon leans into the cool of his hand.  

Martin's hands in his hair, smoothing away the bedhead, Jon forgot about before leaving the house.  Jon making an embarrassing sound as he relaxes into the touch.  

Until Martin reaches the crown of his head, and Jon hisses in pain.  

Martin has been talking to him the whole time, but the ringing in his ears has been too distracting to make out words until now.  "Jon?  Love, did you hit your head?  Can you look at me?  Tim said you fell yesterday, did you hit your head?"

Jon struggles against the painful light to meet Martin's gaze.  

Martin is shining a pen light in his eyes.  

Jon tries not to feel betrayed.  But the light Hurts.  And he just wants to go back to bed, and be held, or maybe have Martin bring him an ice pack, and he's starting to feel sick as well as dizzy.  

"Jon-love, we should get you to a hospital.  I need to get you actually looked at."  

Jon whines in complaint, but doesn't have the energy to argue as Martin guides him up, folding against Martin's chest, when his legs try to give with the pins and needles of inactivity.  

He doesn't want to go to the hospital.  It's bright and he is very tired.  And he feels so guilty that someone... probably one of his students called Martin in when Martin had likely just gotten off his shift and should be at home and sleeping and not scraping Jon's ass off the floor again.  

It hadn't been this bad earlier!  He's fine!  Really!  

"Jon-love, why didn't you say something?"

And Jon tries not to cry.  "I was fine... didn't hurt then."  

Martin tuts over him and holds him close.  

The hospital is just as bad as he fears, and he's pretty sure he guilty cried on Martin at least once, and possibly also took a nap in the waiting room, but when it's over, Martin shoos Jon into a waiting cab, and trundles them both home.  

Jon is dozing on the couch, because Martin is making dinner and he can't bear the thought of being farther away than one room over, and Jon has never been comfortable about the idea of eating in bed.  Breakfast in bed (Or dinner in this case) sounds good in theory, it just sounds messy and awkward in practice.  His phone has been confiscated after he sent a brief email to his students.  Martin wasn't happy that he already was ignoring the don't look at screens and don't think too much instructions.  

That will be an argument for tomorrow, and the next day until they eventually reach a compromise.  One Jon knows Martin won't be happy about, and one Jon will feel the bite of guilt over, but his students need him, and it really isn't a bad concussion.  He might let Martin fuss over him a little more than normal, but only until the extra work catches up with Martin.  Then it will be Jon's turn to look after him.  

“Jon, Tim just texted.  He says he’s sorry he didn’t know you were hurt, and that you don’t have to go with him again.”

Jon wants to cry again.  He breathes as deeply as he can, trying to draw courage into his lungs.  “Could you… tell him I Want to go?  I promise this won’t happen again?  I… had fun… and I want to go kayaking with him.”  

Martin enters the room with his phone in one hand, and a spatula in the other.  He kisses Jon’s forehead softly, and starts to type one-handed.   

“And please tell him to not feel badly?  I didn’t really notice until …well until you got called.  It was just a headache until then.  Not even a bad one.”

“Of course love, just tell me if it gets worse, alright?”

Jon hmms in agreement.  

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :

Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason

Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!

CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence

Burning Maze Spoilers

he used to be nice.

He used to be nice.

Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.

*Two hours earlier*

“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”

The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.

“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"

The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.

“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.

“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”

He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.

By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”

She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.

Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.

He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

He used to be nice.

Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.

He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.

Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.

The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—

The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.

“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.

He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.

Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.

“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.

Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.

“What happened?” He repeats.

And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”

He used to be nice.

It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.

Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.

“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.

“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.

“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”

With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.

“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”

“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."

Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.

“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”

The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.

“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”

“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”

A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”

The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”

“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.

The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.

He used to be nice.

“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”

The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.

“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”

“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”

“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”

The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”

And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.

Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.

Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”

Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.

Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.

“Apologise for killing my friend.”

“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.

A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.

“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”

Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”

He used to be nice.

Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,

He used to be nice.

Until someone killed his friends.

---------------------------------------

[image id: printed text that reads, "I used to be nice." end id]

[heyybrittannia]

Seasons (in floral)

A/N: This one will likely never go to the dungeon. First time writing for Fatgum, and my first official BNHArem server collab! Little notes on the flowers: gardenia = secret/sweet love; jonquils = return my affections; pink hydrangeas, white lilac, red chrysanthemums = various versions of romantic love; sunflowers = unwavering faith/adoration, unconditional love. This was a fun one! Check out the other collabs! Huge thanks to @lesbian-peanut-writer​ for the gorgeous banner!! =============================================================

It was all tight smiles and calculated words that were exchanged over dinner. An ignorant man would confuse your cautious nature for simply being another shy blossom waiting for the brisk breeze of his love to pull you from your branch, but you held fast to your tree. As the banal chatter of your date melted into the din of the white tablecloth restaurant, you allowed yourself a brief moment to sink into your thoughts. ** **

Is this what I’m really looking for? Is this all that I’m worthy of?

He was plain-- not that it was a bad thing. With plainness came stability, reason, economy, and yet you yearned for more than settling for mediocrity. Lips stretched taut over your teeth, you nodded and made non-committal noises indicating your attention was still in the same zip code as his inane droning. For a moment, your smile slipped and the warm sensation of your date’s hand wrapping around your own on top of the pressed linen tablecloth ripped you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?”

You finally focused to meet his stern, yet concerned gaze. His strong fingers continued to tighten around your hand, the question shooting through you. Slowly, you shook your head and worried your lip between your teeth, a habit he loathed. Your cheeks flushed with the fire of your embarrassment. Caught between his plain, constant stare and the hum of flatware scraping against fine china and small talk it was all you could do to shrink lower into your seat and move the steamed vegetables around your plate. He withdrew his hand from yours and settled back into his one-sided conversation. Appetite long gone, you finally dropped your fork and placed your napkin on the table. The cheque was split evenly, gratitude exchanged, and farewells left at the table in abject silence.

Another failed date for the books, you withdrew deeper into yourself during the walk home, insisting you would be fine without his presence to escort you safely. Half-ignoring his cries of, “Call me when you get home!” you waved in acknowledgement and began your trek through the bustling city. Numbly your feet dragged you through the crowded streets on a path you knew by heart. Once inside the safety of your studio apartment, you pulled your smartphone from your purse. Soft mewling and purring greeted you at the door as a lithe tabby rubbed his head against the soft leather of your boots.

“Hey, trouble,” you crooned down to the animal, abandoning your phone on a desk in the passthrough. He chirped in reply and led you to his appallingly empty food dish. “Sorry, Chubs. I didn't mean to forget.” Kibble tinkled through the open space like bells on Sunday morning. Kneeling, you stroked the cat as his purring ramped up, rivalling any sports car on the street. You lingered with your roommate for the better part of ten minutes as he devoured his fill and basked in your rapt attention. The chime of your ring-tone pulled you from the animal, and reluctantly you rose to retrieve the forgotten tech. When you pulled up the notification, your features softened into the sweetest of smiles. Warmth poured from your eyes to the image frozen on your screen. 

Toyomitsu is video calling you…

At the push of a button the world melted away and all you saw was the steady, gentle smile of your childhood friend staring back at you. 

"Hey," you breathed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He snickered and waved. 

"Sorry it's been a while since my last check-in, Y/n. How ya been?" You kicked your heels off and slid down the wall to the floor, expression a mix of exasperation and guilt. "That bad, huh?" You shook your head and scoffed. Wordlessly he read you down as if the past five years didn't wedge between you two. 

"It is what it is, Toyomitsu-kun."  He winced at his surname rolling from your lips like he didn't inherently know your idiosyncrasies. "I think I'm just destined to be alone. Tokyo isn't anything like home," you sighed. He nodded and gave you another megawatt smile, running a large hand through his messy golden hair. 

"Well, home just ain't the same without ya.  Should come visit! Make a weekend outta it!" 

Chubs rubbed his whiskered cheeks against your knee and trilled at the familiar face in your hand curiously. "Ya don't have to answer right away," he continued. "Just think about it, 'kay?" 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The train ride back to Esuha City ate up the majority of your Thursday morning. Earbuds buried deeply in your ears, you watched the world blur outside your window. City turned into field and turned into sprawling city again, and by the time you reached your stop you had your fill of true crime podcasts repeating the same tired tropes in your ears. Clutching your weekender bag to your chest, you disembarked the train and tried to find a familiar face in the shifting sea of businessmen and students. You caught the unmistakable flash of goldenrod hoodie cross your line of sight. Raised on tiptoes you waved to the towering hero. When he caught sight of your slight frame lingering at the platform he flashed his all too famous Cheshire cat grin and began pushing his way through the crowd to meet you. 

"Y/n! Ya made it!" Your feet left the ground the moment he wrapped his arms around you in an ecstatic embrace. The giggle that escaped you as he twirled you around could sustain him for decades if you permitted it. Dopily you grinned back at him and poked at his pillowy girth. 

 "It's been too long, Toyomitsu-kun." 

His hold lingered a bit longer than it should have to be a friendly hug, but this was Toyomitsu Taishiro-- arguably the one person in all of Japan who knew you better than you knew yourself. Amber eyes alight with excitement, he pulled back and held out his arm for you to hold as he pushed through the crowd. 

"A lot's changed since you've last been to Esuha City, y/n." 

Your smile was soft; it was easy to get lost in the experience that was Toyomitsu and forget about the tedium of the world. He was sunshine personified and you were simply content to bask in his warmth.  

"Show me."

He walked you through the vibrant restaurant district while you recounted the latest struggles and triumphs at work. Cautiously you avoided any mention of your string of failed dates and he generously obliged. Between grateful vendors stopping you along the way to get his seal of approval on their latest menu items, you both fell back into the comfortable rhythm of effortless give and take with your conversation. Esura welcomed you home with open arms with Taishiro by your side.  

"Fatgum!!" 

The two of you turned toward the voice as the vendor waved you over. The cart was exploding with all the colors spring had to offer. 

"Lemme see what they want, Y/n. It'll only be a second." He offered a grin and withdrew his arm, leaving you to admire the Technicolor display. The soft jingle of the florist's door signaled his departure. Daisies, hydrangeas, lilies, and carnations weighed down the cart as other passersby paused to admire their beauty. Roses in every color littered half of the cart outside the storefront. The longer you lingered in front of them, the more your memories bubbled to the surface.

A boisterous laugh and peerless smile…

A promise made on the steps of Shiketsu…

A single yellow rose…

"Y/n, you okay?" Pulled from your reverie, you jumped at the sudden intrusion and held your chest to futility slow your racing heart. Toyomitsu held out his hand, holding out a single moon-pale gardenia. Your eyes darted from the flower to the matroshka-shaped man before you. "Here. It was on the house," he said with a chuckle. A gentle flush creeped across your cheeks as you took the flower. It's fragrance overwhelmed your senses and brought you back to another time uncomplicated by distance or duty. 

"It's beautiful," you sighed, inhaling the heady perfume. For a moment, your companion looked relieved at your reception and took your hand in his. 

"C'mon. There's a lot more of Esuha to show you!" 

+++++

Exhausted, you checked into your hotel room. Toyomitsu arranged for you to stay in one close to his agency, boasting that it had the second best views of the canals and vibrant skyline at night second only to his own from his office. Your head buzzed with the day's events and your stomach felt comfortably full. You smiled at the thought-- warm and constant, he was always quick with a few honest, kind words. He always had a knack for giving you what you needed to refuel your soul. 

The pale gardenia sat lonely in its makeshift green glass bottle vase. There was a time when your whole room was full of flowers. It was a hobby that started young, your grandmother handing down her love for traditional flower arranging to you during your school breaks. It was a hobby that wasn't lost on your childhood friend, but you didn't think he took as keen an interest in the art as you. In those days you and Toyomitsu were almost inseparable. Dinners with your parents weren't quite complete without his grin across the table from yours. By high school you had both been accepted to Shiketsu Academy, he in the hero course and you in support.

"I'll always be there. I'm gonna be your hero, Y/n! And that's a promise!" 

Your eyes grew heavy with sleep. Nestled into the pillows, you turned over and succumbed. 

Morning came too soon, bathing the room in pale, gray light. As you stretched your limbs and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your phone chimed softly. 

"Mornin', Y/n! Somethin' came up at work so I won't be able to hang out with ya until later." 

Disappointment bled into your sleep-softened features. As if sensing your darkening mood, the BMI hero chuckled softly on the other end of the phone. 

"Don't worry, Y/n. I'll make it up to ya. Promise." 

"I'll hold you to it, Toyomitsu-kun. Be safe," you murmured. When the line went dead, you finally pulled yourself from the covers and padded over to the tiny hotel coffee pot. A soft knock came at the door, pulling your attention from your brew. The next knocks came heavier, almost impatient as you pulled a hoodie over your pajamas. The knocking didn't cease until you finally opened the door. Two younger men greeted you, one dressed in what looked like a school uniform with spiked red hair and the other in a silvery hooded cape obscuring dark blue hair and a perpetual nervous frown. 

"G-good morning, Miss."

"Good morning. I take it Toyomitsu-kun sent you two to look after me today?" 

The boys nodded in unison. You opened the door slightly more to invite them into your hotel room, finally taking note of the bouquet of bright yellow jonquils held protectively by the red-head. They stood awkwardly in the foyer as you pulled a simple white fitted tee and jeans out from your weekender bag to change. Once dressed, you poured yourself a small cup of coffee. The redhead smiled brightly, his sharp teeth gleaming in the morning light, and held out the bouquet. 

"Boss wanted you to have these!" His smile was infectious-- it made sense why he was picked up by the agency to be an intern. 

"Thank you--"

"Kirishima! And this here is Amajiki!" 

You took a sip of your coffee and grinned. "I'm Y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you." Your face fell slightly when they heard your name. 

"Y/n? As in the Y/n from the Tokyo branch of Shield Tech?" You nodded dumbly and blinked owlishly as the two exchanged looks. "Amajiki, we should take her back to the agency!" Amajiki looked like he might puke. 

"Kirishima, I don't think Miss Y/n wants to spend her time off in another agency's support department."

"I wouldn't mind, actually." Your eyes lingered on the jonquils resting on your bed. Perhaps spending the day at Fatgum Agency would give you a chance to see him again. Amajiki scooped up the bouquet and placed it in a coffee cup with water, all the while mumbling something about not wanting the bright yellow blooms to be wilted by the time you got back. Kirishima picked up your purse and laptop bag while you pulled your hair back. You lingered on the bouquet and the lone gardenia beside it before the younger boys ushered you from your room. 

Return my sweet affections, hm? Still as attentive as ever, Taishiro.

You walked between the two heroes like a rose between thorns. Both towered over your slight frame by half a head as they escorted you the two blocks from the hotel to the hero agency. Amajiki lowered his hood upon entering the building and waved timidly at the receptionist. Kirishima beamed at her and dashed for the locker rooms. 

"I'll catch up, guys! Gotta change. Don't wait up!" Carrying your bags, you jogged to Amajiki's side. With a soft smile, you fidgeted with your bag strap. 

"Shall we, Suneater?" At the mention of his hero name, the elf-eared boy brightened slightly. He led you down corridors until you reached a plain metal door. 

"It's not much, but it's ours," he muttered. You patted his shoulder and took a quick look around the cramped room. "It's nothing compared to what you're used to in Tokyo, I'm sure." You gave a non-committal shrug and hummed as you unpacked your laptop. 

"It's homey. Much cozier than work," you sighed, plugging into an unoccupied outlet. "Is there anything needing any immediate repairs?" Amajiki shook his dark head and took a seat across the workbench from you, his dark eyes boring into you as if he made it his mission to solve the mystery of you. "Reminds me of my old workshop, all tools and tiny spaces," you hummed. As your laptop booted up, you gave your limbs a quick stretch and glanced around the room. 

Of course you'd still have it, you old softie…

Off in its own corner sat a dusty old steel workbench with bright orange and sunny yellow sunflowers painted on the side. You gravitated to the neglected space under Amajiki's watchful eye. The moment you touched the steel, it hummed to life under your hands, brightening like new. 

"H-how is it you know Fatgum..?" 

"Hm? Oh, we've known each other for ages. We just seem to keep skating around each other." Your hands fussed over a long-neglected project-- power gloves for a former sidekick you assumed. You smiled wryly at the craftsmanship, carefully appraising where the design succeeded. Satisfied, you turned to the tool chest and began pulling out your tiny screwdriver and soldering kit. "I feel like you have another question, Amajiki. Go ahead and ask." 

"N-no, miss." 

"Hm...suit yourself," you hummed, tracing uncovered wires from the glove's generator. Slipping it on over your own hand, you turned it and flexed your fingers to get the feel for the device. The minor adjustments you made as you flexed. Tongue jutting out just between your lips, you could feel a second set of eyes on you. You grinned and adjusted a few connections, the support device blinking back to life. 

"What are you two doing here? Y/n, I thought you'd be seeing the sights!" You turned and your mouth hung open at the sight-- it had been years since you've last seen Taishiro when he wasn't his usual doughy self. He was always tall with sharp eyes and strong arms, but when he was "low fat" he was hard muscle and broad shoulders. His soft blonde hair stuck out in little spikes, his hoodie hung half-open, and left you feeling like the room was ten degrees too hot. Amajiki muttered something about needing to find his kohai and excused himself from the room, leaving you alone with your friend. 

"You kept it after all these years?"

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and grinned. 

"Yeah, it made sense at the time. Y'know, when we opened I hoped you'd be here to really help me make a difference."

You couldn't meet his gaze but you could feel him bore holes through you with his golden stare. His massive, muscular frame siddled into the workshop and sat across your workbench, arm outstretched with a groping hand searching for yours to hold.  

"Ya can always come home, Y/n." 

It was your turn to smile. You left your crafts project at your old workbench and looked up at him through your lashes. He was close enough to touch, but oceans of emotional baggage served as the only distance between you. 

"If only it were that easy, Toyomitsu-kun." Your voice was soft, somber as he reached across the divide and squeezed your hand. "I've got a life in Tokyo, y'know?" His face fell and those warm honey eyes implored you to reconsider. It was deja vu, him reaching over your tool bench in your parents' garage begging you to open an agency with him, you lamenting over your latest design being poached by a bigger, flashier support firm. 

"...maybe this was a mistake…" you whispered, pulling your hand from his. You couldn't face him and the hurt that threatened to leech into his warm, familiar face. He rose and stood in front of you, broad hands on your shoulders, and knelt down to catch your eyes. 

"Ya don't mean that. I know ya don't. I'm not sayin' drop everythin', Y/n. I'm sayin' you can always come home...to me." His voice grew so soft at the end you almost didn't hear him finish. Your eyes grew wide and darted away from him as he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The fluttering in your stomach, that same feeling you didn't think you could feel after you left for Tokyo the first time plagued you full force under his hold. For the first time in your life it finally dawned on you-- Taishiro made you feel small and precious, something worth keeping safe from the world. Rose dusted your cheeks as he drew closer, his breath fanning over your face. With eyes closed and an open heart he gently pressed his lips against yours, the sweetness from his kiss rivaling any dessert. It stole your breath with it's brevity and left you searching for more. His hold on your chin kept you from chasing his lips when he pulled away. 

Dazed, you fluttered your eyelashes and exhaled slowly. "T-taishiro," you sighed. It was his turn to blush as he released your chin and rested his forehead against yours. 

"I've waited a long time to hear ya call my name like that, Y/n." 

Once again the rest of the world melted away, leaving just the two of you in your tiny corner of the universe. You could taste him on your tongue, his scent brought you back to graduation when you left him with a confession of your own. You must have hung there together, rapt in each other's presence because a certain energetic redhead stumbled upon you two and broke the spell that held you. 

"Hey, boss, don't we have patrol to finish today?"

You closed your eyes and shook your head with a small, terse smile. You pulled away first and turned to your laptop, waving the bemused hero away. 

"Go, Taishiro. Make it up to me later, okay?" Reluctantly pulled from your presence, you threw a bag of shrimp chips at him and sent him from the workshop, Kirishima in tow. The moment his name left your lips he beamed, almost blinding you with it's radiance. 

"Ya won't regret it!" 

+++++

Six months later, you were sitting comfortably on the train back to Esuha, landscape blurring behind like it was haphazardly painted by an impressionist.  Your laptop bag was joined by a soft golden gift bag, its contents hidden by bolts of ombre teal and sky blue tissue paper. By the time you reached the station, excitement had you tingling from your fingertips down to your toes. Work kept you busy as Shield Tech continued to push your designs through R&D. Between showcasing your work at the Tokyo Hero Expo and Taishiro's role in the Shie Hassakai investigation, the most you two could do was the occasional video chat and text messages. As the train pulled into the station you could barely contain your excitement. You pulled out your phone and felt bolstered by the headlines your co-workers forwarded to you. 

You navigated your way along the brightly colored storefronts and restaurants, stopping by one particularly old food cart that Taishiro boasted had the best takoyaki in the region. You picked up a box and made your way to the agency, hoping to surprise your hero. The closer to the building your drew, the harder the butterflies in your stomach fluttered.

"Ah, is Fatgum around?" 

The receptionist at the desk blinked owlishly at you and her brow creased with confusion. "No, he's not here. You didn't hear?" 

You shook your head and worried your lower lip between your teeth. "I'm not from around here. I was hoping to see him." The fluttering in your stomach twisted from excitement to dread with every stroke of the receptionist's pen. She handed you a slip of paper with an address and a room number. 

"Here." 

Without another word you ran from the agency and called him. "Please pick up. Please pick up!" The line rang and rang until his goofy, warm voice resonated over the speaker. 

"Sorry I can't answer. Leave a message and I'll get back to ya!" 

Cold dread gripped your stomach and tied it in uncomfortable knots. You found yourself tracing through every text message, every email, struggling to grasp at any clue as to why he would be able to answer. He always answered your calls by the second ring, even on patrol. You searched the address his receptionist handed to you and your dread turned into something darker, more primal than simple fear-- it was a hospital. 

Without another thought you hailed a cab and piled on with your bags. He had to be okay. You both were working so hard to make it work despite the distance. He ensured you always had fresh flowers delivered to your workshop every week, each one indicative of his affections or describing an attribute you had that he admired deeply. With blushing hydrangeas, scarlet chrysanthemums, and ivory pale lilac, each week he showed how he cared, how he valued your perpetual presence in his life. Somehow you felt like you always came up short-- he knew your love language and spoke it naturally like he had been doing it since birth, but you couldn't quite figure out how to return his affections to match that ardence. 

You paid the cab driver well and steeled your nerves as you slowly trudged through the hospital entrance. "Excuse me. Could you help me, please? I'm trying to find..."

++

Numbness leeched into your limbs when you reached his room. You hesitated to open the door, but when you did you found him sound asleep. Bloodstained bandages wrapped around his torso and left you clutching your own sides as if the wound were inflicted on you instead. He looked so tired, spent from the fight as his chest rose and fell rhythmically under the crisp hospital sheets. You glanced around the room and set your belongings down next to the recliner, quietly sitting beside him. 

You must have sat with him for hours just watching him sleep. Did he always look this rugged? The curve of his jaw set against the pillows left you pondering if he kept his squishier form up just so he had an ace in the hole against villains and criminals or if it was something he saved just for you. The nurses paid little attention to you, only offering to bring back a spare pillow for you to stay by his side as he recovered. 

You snuck down for a moment to buy a cup of coffee and noted a flower cart in the foyer. Immediately you thought of your hero in his bed and the stark white and gray walls that closed in on him. In that moment you knew. 

When he finally woke, he sat amazed-- you curled up asleep in the recliner, laptop screensaver playing a loop of candid photos from your shared childhood on the bedside table next to a box of his favored, cold takoyaki and a pale yellow gift bag. Along his counters sat vase after vase of impossible to ignore sunflowers. He stared at the canary yellow flowers and chuckled. Reaching for a cold deep-fried morsel, he heard you moan in your sleep and watched as you shifted in the chair. 

Once you settled, he turned his attention to the gift bag, carefully rustling through the layers of tissue paper as quietly as he could manage. A soft smile crept over his face as he unwrapped his gift. He beamed at the three-tier lunch box you brought him-- a treasure box full of his favorite bento snacks all carefully and lovingly made by you with him in mind. Salmon roe onigiri, various temaki sushi, furikake rice on one end and umeboshi rice on the other, tempura shrimp and yams with his favorite inagi sauce sat before him, and all he could do was devour it with his eyes. A small card fell out of the bento box wrapping and into his lap. His large hands unfolded the cardstock, his attention drawn from your slowly waking body. 

"Home is where you are, hero. -- Y/n"

Stunned, he sat holding the card, rereading it over and over until you made another soft moan, this time your eyes met his. 

"Hey," you yawned. "I see you opened your gift without me." He pushed the table aside and scooped you into his arms, wincing into your hair as he did. "Careful, big guy. You're already hurt." You grinned at him and nuzzled into the familiar warmth of his skin. Taishiro planted his lips against the crown of your head and held you so tightly you thought you'd lose the ability to breathe. Your breathing eventually did sync with his and you both relaxed into the comfortable banter that carried you two through the years. 

"Sunflowers, huh?" He grinned. 

"I mean it, Taishiro. I'm ready for that next step whenever you are." 

"Y/n, I've been ready for ya for a long time."

XXXXXXX

[goodbysunball]

Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

[brynnmck]

J/B Exchange Recs Round 1!

I have not been around Tumblr much lately because I was so preoccupied with stuff for @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange, but I am trying to get back into the swing of things, and I figured what better place to start than with some recs?

These are currently skewed a bit toward my amaaaazing gift fic and the amaaaaazing ones I beta-ed, since I am way behind on my reading, but there will be more to come!

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant - I am so unbelievably grateful that I had both amazing prompts/amazing recipient for the fic I wrote, and such a fabulous gift fic too. I was still working on my own fic and very sleep-deprived and flagging when I read this for the first time and I think I may have actually left my body on a wave of sheer euphoria. IT IS ALL THE GOOD THINGS. So many of my favorite vacation/road trip tropes--drunken shenanigans! Intimate late-night conversations while everyone else is sleeping/elsewhere! Friends being too involved in your relationship! Unexpected forced proximity! And the banter is glorious, and the secondary characters are so well thought out and add such depth and vibrance to the story, and the Sansa/Margaery subplot was DELIGHTFUL, and I love the way this structured Brienne's relationship to Tyrion and then to Jaime as an extension of that, and the resolution was handled with an absolutely perfect balance of hilarity and heat. (There was also the stuff throughout that was very targeted to me specifically WHICH I APPRECIATED, so thanks to both Sami and @forbiddenfantasies1 for that). About 20% of the way into the story, I was deeply convinced it was Sami, and in the best possible way--it had the hallmarks I love about her writing: her sense of humor, her gift for banter, her clear affection for the characters, the richness of all the relationships. It was like showing up to a party and unexpectedly finding a friend there, and it was the loveliest feeling. I am thrilled that so many people have read and loved this story but I want everyone in the world to read and love it, so. Please check it out if you haven't! And also check out Sami's hilarious tale of woe regarding her writing process, which is amazing. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR SUCH A PHENOMENAL GIFT SAMI.  ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

A favorite line: On any other day, Brienne would have left him - a relative stranger - to his wallowing, but an untold amount of imbibed Pentoshi Slammers stirred up a noble benevolence within her, a little voice that said they had something in common and what good were her broad shoulders if they weren’t offered as a place to rest a weary, heartbroken brow? SO GOOD.

_____

Lay Your Heartbreak and the sequel You could make me feel so good by @ajoblotofjunk / sdwolfpup - LISTEN. SDW sent me an early chunk of this and I was immediately OBSESSED and I have not stopped being obsessed since. Obviously worldbuilding is a huge strength of SDW's and her creativity with that is a constant astonishment to me. But pop culture is full of examples of people who can create amazing worlds and then utterly fail to populate them with interesting or dynamic characters, whereas SDW's ability to fill in those wonderfully creative spaces with her love for the characters and their love for each other that is just magic. And these fics are the perfect examples of that. The setup is not only fascinating but makes for such fantastically INTENSE feelings, omg, everything just feels like it's crackling off the page; even before Jaime and Brienne and Addam are admitting anything to each other, it's not so much simmering under the surface as boiling. The balance between the three of them is gorgeous, there are two incredibly hot fencing scenes as well as a very hot swimming scene (in addition to the sequel being just one big tangle of brain-scorching hotness), there's a perfect amount of sweetness and softness to play off all the blazing heat, and overall this is one that's going to stick with me for a long time. I know J/A/B isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you aren't actively opposed to the idea of them, then I highly highly encourage you to check this out. 

A favorite line: That night she dreams of golden skin, hot and soft against her palm – yes, someone moans, yes – the rough scrape of callouses over the arch of her ribs, the scratch of red stubble between her thighs – like this? Yes, more, please more – legs sliding together and between each other, and two mouths touching her all over. Hnnnnngh.

_____

The Limit Does Not Exist by @agirlnamedkeith / sameboots - Fics with a power imbalance are something I approach with a lot of caution but I LOVED the way that sameboots handled it here. The fact that this fic includes her signature extremely hot feelings-forward porn as well as a thoughtful exploration of what it can mean to be a woman in STEM is like a beautiful multi-course meal; I cared a LOT about whether they were gonna do it and I was also equally invested in how Brienne’s thesis was going to turn out and where she would go from there. I love Brienne’s stubbornness and determination and even though she’s finding her way here (as you would be, as a grad student), those elements are VERY much on display and they spark fantastically against an initially guarded and caustic but eventually deeply admiring Jaime. And while I don’t want to spoil anything, I will say that I feel like the end is a perfect illustration of one of the major themes of the fic, and I love it so much for that. Watching this one take shape and watching sameboots geek out over her math research was a delight, and the result is excellent (and did I mention, extremely hot). Definitely worth all her work!

A favorite line: “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the worst liar?” (KIDDING HANNAH ILU HERE’S THE REAL ONE:)  The problem with smoothies was that it was hard to make them aggressively., Angrily pushing a button didn’t have the same release as whaling on a punching bag. Brienne didn’t have a punching bag, though, and she desperately needed to do something, and she was hungry. ANGRY SMOOTHING-MAKING. I LOVE IT.

_____

Right Off the Bat by @hillaryschu - A You’ve Got Mail AU where Jaime and Brienne are rival Little League coaches who unknowingly bond over Twitter is SUCH a great idea, and Hillary committed to it right down to the delightful rom-com-trailer summary. She also put an enormous amount of care into the details of the story--she had references for outfits, buildings, even Jaime’s cologne--and it shows in all the lush descriptions throughout. The banter is sparky, watching their two relationships gradually unfold is a lot of fun, there’s a particular tipsy (on Brienne’s part) Twitter DM exchange that I still get flustered thinking about, and there’s a batting cage scene that will be haunting my brain for a while. Especially given that Hillary had never written a story anywhere near this long before, I’m so impressed that she pulled it off (and fixed some of the most problematic elements of the movie, too). Congratulations to her on rising to the challenge!

A favorite line: But as they part from each other, Brienne lifts the hem of her tee to wipe the dirt and sweat from her face. Her exposed stomach is pale and toned, with softly defined muscles that gleam with perspiration. Jaime trips over home plate. SAME JAIME. SAME.

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X Marks the Spot (where I’ll find you again) by @pretty--thief - PIRATES. I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I HEARD ABOUT THE PIRATES. And this fic is such a fantastic blend of snappy, exciting swashbuckling (and hilarious use of parrots) and a very poignant backstory that underlays the adventure with all this yeeeeeearning and it’s SO GOOD. The action scenes are thrilling, the descriptions are gorgeous, there is STARGAZING and BATTLE COUPLE, the Jaime snark is chefkiss, Brienne is so brave and committed and quietly full of feelings, there’s a really lovely discussion of the ethics of being in the military, and also Pod and Addam and Arya and PIRATES FOR JUSTICE. SO HERE FOR THAT. And did I mention the yeeeeeearning (which is paid off wonderfully--the penultimate chapter lived rent-free in my mind for about a week after I first read it)? Ugh SO GOOD.

A favorite line: When he had exited his quarters, Brienne had looked at him with so much concern in her eyes it threatened to swallow Jaime whole. He’d felt something similar when he was around Cersei, when they were fucking or fighting; a fire he had once thought he could never tire of, would never want to put out. But Brienne had reached out her hand, as if on reflex, and smoothed her thumb across his tired brow. The ship had continued to sway beneath them, and Jaime didn’t feel fire. He didn’t feel like he would be turned to ash at any moment. He felt a breeze, the wind in his hair and salty air in his lungs. as;lfkja;sldjgas;lfjas;lf 

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Federation Fliers by @elizadunc /Ladybugbear2 - A short and very sweet one! I adore the world that Megs created in this and would happily read many many more words in it, but this is a lovely glimpse in and of itself, and made me so happy. Established relationship (which I love), one of my favorite Jaime nicknames for Brienne, a wonderfully badass Brienne and a wonderfully besotted Jaime, all against a fascinating backdrop. So good!

A favorite line: She belonged in the sky. She had a grace to her movements on the ground, but in the sky she was ethereal. HEART-EYES

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And now for a few that I just read after they were posted like a normal person:

Wine Down by @slipsthrufingers - SOME MILD SPOILERS HEREIN FYI. Okay first of all, the summary of this fic is deliciously evil and I think we all need to appreciate that. Also, it starts out with Jaime and Brienne having lunch together and these glorious descriptions of food and he has taken note of the specific food she likes and is making sure it’s provided for her and that is SO VERY MUCH MY LOVE LANGUAGE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW. I FLAILED. And then things go, shall we say, a bit downhill, but in the most achingly beautiful way--Jaime sacrificing himself for Brienne and Brienne determined to tether him to life through sheer force of will and steadfast devotion. Slips puts us right into Brienne’s headspace/heartspace while she’s worrying for Jaime and trying to negotiate the fucked-up Lannister family dynamics (and the observations on said dynamics are wonderful too), and this hits such an excellent balance of Brienne’s rigidly controlled surface and everything that’s roiling away underneath. I’m always fascinated by the idea of what could have happened during the time that Brienne was in King’s Landing and this is such a brilliant exploration of how things could have gone, and Brienne’s interactions with the rest of the Lannisters (and Sansa) give the world that much more depth as well. The descriptions throughout are beautiful, there are so many lovely turns of phrase, the intimacy between Jaime and Brienne is just devastating, and it all comes back around to an immensely satisfying conclusion. SO GOOD. 

A favorite line: The gods had seen fit to give her an unwomanly body, so she had taken up the sword. They had given her an ugly face, so she had perfected her manners and courtesies so they could never be frowned upon. But they had given her a maiden’s heart, and try as she might she had never found the right weapon to protect it. MY PRECIOUS GIRL.

_____

A Matter of Honor by @nire-the-mithridatist - I shrieked at nire in DMs basically the whole time I was reading this story, it made me experience like 90% of the range of human emotions in one night and I’m still mad about it. This features a fascinatingly flipped script where Brienne is the wealthy one and Jaime the supplicant, and an arrogant-ass supplicant he is. Brienne is an angy baby nineteen-year-old who is furious at the entire world and I fucking adore her for it, and watching all the events unfold through the lens of her (generally well-founded) suspicions was a delicious sort of torture where I trusted NO ONE and genuinely did not know exactly what was going to happen next. Nire turns a lot of marriage fic tropes on their head in this and it’s all done brilliantly, and there is EXTREMELY SEXY SWORD-FIGHTING (and as a sexy bonus, Brienne’s perspective on it feels so perfect for someone who is truly an accomplished swordswoman), and nire uses some common elements throughout to just pack in these layers and layers of meaning and significance, and there are many turns of phrase so perfect that they hurt, and then she’s like “hey would you like to re-feel all the feelings in this story again in a very concentrated burst” and it’s SO MUCH, and the conclusion pays everything off amazingly. And even though it’s very swoony and romantic (and HOT. I SHOULD MENTION VERY HOT), there’s a hint of melancholy to it too, reckoning with what it means to be a woman--even a wealthy one--in Brienne’s world, and it’s just the perfect crunch of salt on top of all the sweetness. LOVE. 

A favorite line: He brought her knuckles to his lips. As sweet as honeyed nettles, he declared, “Lady Brienne. You have made me the happiest of men.” As the crowd roared in approval, she felt the sting of his kiss. STING OF HIS KISS ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Also I’m including this for purely thirsty reasons but NO SHAME: He stood from the sofa and went to help his wife undress, and if she noticed his averted eyes and his trembling hands—oh gods, the laces went on endlessly down her back, and with each pull, a little more of her figure was revealed, barely veiled by her gauzy shift—she said nothing. I DIED. I ALSO SAID NOTHING BECAUSE I WAS DEAD. Fuck, man.

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The Riverlands Gang Go to the Zoo by @naomignome - Another shorter and very delightful one with Naomi’s typical brand of chaotic humor that I adore. It’s Hyle POV, for one thing, which is good times, and the structure of this is so clever--the way each section of the zoo is used to progress the story is so seamless and happy-making, and there are tons of little jokes and Easter eggs packed in along with a very sweet, snarky emotional storyline wherein Hyle is definitely doomed. Plus another EXCELLENT Brienne nickname in here. LOVELY. 

A favorite line: “Pixel!” he said laughingly, “You know if you fell in the bear pit, I would jump after you without a second thought.” “You need to have a first thought in order to have a second one.” Brienne said dryly. SUCH A GOOD BURN.

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all these people think love’s for show (but i would die for you in secret) by @naomignome - This is SUCH A FLEX because not only did Naomi write TWO fics for her recipient but they are WILDLY DIFFERENT and I’m so impressed with her for doing it! This one is SPIEEEEESSSS and Naomi packs so much tension into 5K, I was on the edge of my seat through the whole thing. Canon events are woven in astonishingly well, and it’s a delicious enemies-to-partners-to-lovers situation that involves some excellent hurt/comfort and excellent use of RAIN to moody/sexy effect and it’s just all very thrilling. YUM.

A favorite line: He lets off a single bullet and it grazes the inside of her thigh, enough to make her wince and draw blood, but not enough to stop her from tackling him to the ground and wrestling him into submission. She’s got both of his wrists pinned above his head and her knee is drawn up and pressed against his torso. Jaime’s chest is heaving under her knee. Her chest is heaving in tandem. From above him, Brienne can see the green of his eyes darken, and even in submission, he’s annoyingly beautiful. Her blood is rushing, and it’s not all adrenaline. WHEW. SAME.

_____

as stars once a year brush the earth by @ylizam / mazily - Another wonderfully bite-sized one (good job actually taking the minimum word count as a guideline, people who did that, unlike the rest of us dumbasses!) that packs a lot into a small space. A canon-ish soulmates AU that’s so understated and dreamy, but with the echo of all the turmoil they’ve gone through to get to this place that brings everything in sharp relief. It’s also funny and sexy and romantic as fuck, and there are gorgeous poetic descriptions, and they spar by a WATERFALL, and just. So much happens in just over 1600 words! IMPRESSIVE.

A favorite line: Her right hand goes numb, unfeeling; back in their rooms Jaime is waking up, and she knows the phantom ache of his missing hand is bothering him. Jaime is waking, and yawning, the bed linens pooling around his waist and highlighting his summer tanned skin. She misses him, suddenly, as wide as the endless sea in front of her. BEAUTIFUL.

OKAY THIS WAS A LONG POST. That’s all I’ve got for now--more to come as I continue my reading!!

[uwua3]

are you in love?

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

summary: it’s selfish, he knows that, but kazunari doesn’t know who he is out of love

warnings: heartbreak, desparation, self–hatred, mental illness (depression), fear, toxic relationships, alcohol

author’s note: this is extremely personal(?) and i knew i had to write about it or else the concept would eat away at me until i did TT i couldn’t write about anything else so this stayed. it’s shorter than what i usually write, so i apologize! this is not kazunari x reader, this is more so a personal piece on kazu’s loveless life and how it plays into his mental heath

i chose kazunari for this because of his one true purpose of being a people–pleaser. i relate to kazunari in the sense he doesn’t feel valid unless he’s loved and needed by friends, so this is my interpretation of his perception on love. please know, i love you so much. you are loved by this author and you are valued, noticed, and seen. i love you, please do not feel alone, i believe in you! i am here for you anytime, my messages are always open ♡

word count: 1,347

music: still with you – bts (jungkook)

Are you in love?

Always, Kazunari would respond. There was never a moment where his heart wasn’t tattooed with another unworthy name, the letters inked with the flower petals he’d grow in his lungs, hopelessly pining after someone he knew would never be with him. Kazunari fell in love with those he knew were unattainable in a way he couldn’t help but long for. They would never love him back in this lifetime, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it! He was in love, wasn’t that enough?

Kazunari had his heart on his sleeve for anyone to take and break anytime they pleased. All it took was a single compliment, maybe a meaningless romantic gesture as well, and Kazunari was yours. A smile for him made his heart flutter. His heart’s angel wings beat against his ribcage and feathers fell to the ground. A lingering hug made the butterflies crash around his caged stomach. His energy felt like a sugar rush from how sweet love was. A text, a conversation, a casual meet up, a stare, anything was capable of having Kazunari daydream about you for weeks on end. His potential soulmate, someone he was fated to love!

Everyone had a soulmate, Kazunari believed wholeheartedly. To think that a person was born into this world with a red string looped around their future’s pinky. Or whenever you walked past them for the first time, a bell rung inside each of your heads and caused you to look back. Kazunari believed in almost every soulmate myth, brushing his hands over his features after learning his face was supposed to resemble the person he loved the most in his last lifetime. He loved himself in that moment, but it’s one of the few he doesn’t particularly care for.

Kazunari also liked dotting his i’s with minature hearts, practiced cursive just like all those romance classics advised him to. Signed every single letter of his with the complimentary closing, “Love, Kazunari”, knowing he meant it every single time. Kissed each envelope even if he wasn’t wearing bright red lipstick just to imagine their fingers passing over the faint shape of his lips. It was the feeling of knowing he was in love and his purpose was to love endlessly, it was the role he was born to play.

This meant Kazunari was in love with everyone. Anyone could steal his heart and sign their name like it was a yearbook, anyone could occupy his mind all the time and make him fantasize about a wonderful future together. It was all he knew; Kazunari only knew how to love, love, love. He was born to love as much as possible, that was his purpose.

It was the feeling—the feeling that he was meant for something. That Kazunari was born to love, to be made of love, to give love and never receive. Kazunari had never been out of love, he was constantly hitting himself with cupid’s arrow and gaining another forced scar in the process. To write all those heartfelt foolish love letters no one read, to create the most perfect playlist curated with songs that represented who they were at their best, to doodle their name with hearts all around it with a lovesick smile, wasn’t that love?

Why wasn’t it enough?

Why didn’t anyone love him back? Where was his soulmate? Was he really, unlovable? Kazunari always had lovey dovey smile on his face, the split image of another Valentine’s Day. Did they not like the romance that came with him saying “I love you” too soon? What was wrong with wanting to fake date just for a little bit; nothing could go wrong from that! Why did platonically holding hands and random, intimate skin contact suddenly become inappropiate and “too much”? Kazunari did everything right to be the best boyfriend possible, the type you’d post on social media about how he would do anything for you. But, when it came down to it, maybe it was him. Maybe, he was the problem.

Could no one ever truly love him? Did he not have a soulmate, was he destined to be loveless? Kazunari was in love with everybody but himself, and that was his crucial downfall. He’d let anyone who pretended to be nice to him do anything they wanted, use him senseless until he was nothing but a shell. He would gladly hurt himself in the process as long as you knew he loved you with his whole heart, everything he did came from his need to love. It all connected to love, it was the root of all his problems, having such a big heart that had enough space to take anyone in.

Relationships were everything to him, Kazunari couldn’t stay single for long before someone took advantage of his relentless charm and obvious desperation. Although they never lasted long or sometimes never even happened after being led on, Kazunari documented each one in his diary every night. Most times, he would gush about how romantic the date was and his feelings of being a lovesick puppy. Other times, he’d find his words smudged with the uncontrollable sobs he’d try to hold in as he struggled to write prettily on the creased paper. Kazunari would deny that he’s never had a happy, healthy relationship in his life, but it was the truth he couldn’t see with his rose vision.

After all, all red flags look like regular flags when you’re wearing pink heart–shaped rose–tinted glasses!

Kazunari closed the door behind him softly, hitting his head against the surface with a thud as he slid down, landing on the ground with a tired sigh. Another unfortunately unsuccessful break–up; at least it was in person this time, and not over DMs like always. His pink blazer and heart–printed vest suddenly felt extremely tight, as he ran his hand through his hair only to knock over the heart–shaped sunglasses upon his head.

The room was dark, it was late, he supposed. He couldn’t remember who he kissed that night after relying on alcohol to make him feel alive, he barely registered their invasive grip on him or the empty promises and manipulative lies. At least he had enough sense in him to go home, to avoid anything that would make the wound of his last love even worse. Kazunari blinked away the tears as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through previous texts with a sad smile. All he could see were stickers he spammed, and their one–word responses if he was lucky.

Of course it was him who did everything, again. Kazunari pushed himself up, wobbling on his feet as he unsteadily made way to his desk. His clumsy hands tipped over cups of art supplies, cursing underneath his breath as his blurry vision tried to find what he was looking for. Got it! Kazunari scraped his chair against the floor as he fell onto his seat loudly, pulling his lamp string to cast a yellow haze over the diary. Another one for the records, Kazunari hurriedly spilled his heart onto the pages as he relived his most recent break–up.

It wouldn’t be long before he found himself on those dating apps again, flirting away effortlessly and becoming the ideal type he knew the other person was attracted to. He’d take selfies that made him look perfect, filter and FaceTune alike. Updated his socials with a “new me!” attitude to gain more attention. Someone would catch his heart again and Kazunari would crush over them with every heart emoji ever. It was a habit he couldn’t handle anymore, it was out of his control.

It sounded wrong, Kazunari knew that, but he didn’t feel real if he wasn’t in love. Kazunari didn’t know who he was outside of the love he had for others, and as he swiped right for anyone, he didn’t want to find out.

Are you in love?

Kazunari caught himself in the mirror the next day, staring at his blank reflection as he looked away witn an indescribable expression.

Yes, just not with himself.

[likecastle]

Witcher Noir AU

Here’s the beginning of the Witcher noir AU I was talking about the other day. If anyone has scenes they’d like to see, or suggestions of any kind, I am very open to prompts on this! Please make me write more of this!

This first scene doesn’t suggest it, but this is headed in a Geraskier direction, though Yennefer is definitely in the picture and she and Geralt definitely have A Past. So possibly eventual Geraskefer? I’m not making any promises at this point. Maybe that will depend on what suggestions I get!

CW for mentions of canonical character death.

When he unlocks the door to his office, he finds her waiting for him—not seated in the chair like any other client would be, but perched on the edge of his desk, the slit in her black skirt carefully arranged to give him a long look at the legs he doesn’t get to touch anymore. He resolutely doesn’t let his gaze linger.

“Do I want to know how you got in here?” He lowers himself into his chair and hunts around in his desk drawers for a fifth of whiskey and the first aid kit. It’s been a long day already, and he has the feeling it’s only going to get longer.

Yennefer taps her nails—blood red and filed sharp—impatiently on the surface of the desk. “I can’t say it was much of a challenge.”

He takes a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, then holds it out to her. She declines with a disdainful shake of her head that sends her glossy curls spilling back over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how much you’ve missed me, Geralt?”

“No,” he says flatly. She knows anyway.  

Gingerly he shrugs off his jacket and pulls his tie loose. She watches him undo his shirt buttons, violet eyes avid in her otherwise perfectly composed face. She makes no move to help him as he sheds his shirt, or when he tugs his undershirt up over his head—which causes the pain in his ribs to flare sharply. They’re not broken, he knows, but fuck if it doesn’t hurt anyway. It hurts more to raise his arms and wrap the bandages from the first aid kit around his chest, but he grits his teeth and does it anyway.

Yennefer says nothing, leaning back on the desk like she’s taking in a vaguely amusing show. She doesn’t bother to avert her eyes.

Pulling his shirt back on is no less painful, but he manages to dress himself again, and takes another drink of the whiskey as a reward. “Well?” he says finally. “I’m guessing you didn’t come here to watch me undress.”

She smiles long and slow. “I was going to offer you a job,” she says. She casts a glance around his dingy office, taking in his split knuckles and bloody lip, the PI license hanging crooked on the wall, the waste paper basket full of empty bottles. “But from the looks of things, maybe you don’t need my help.”

“I don’t want to play games with you, Yen.” He’s tired, and sore, and he’s never shared her love of artifice. He prefers to speak plainly, or not at all. “What’s the case?”

Her expression softens slightly—or maybe he imagines it. A trick of the light coming in through the blinds, probably. “Calanthe’s dead.”

“I heard about that.” When the city’s second most notorious crime boss takes a swan dive out a twelfth-story window, it tends to make the news. “I didn’t think you’d shed any tears over Calanthe’s demise.”

“I’m not about to mourn that bitch.” Behind Yennefer’s expression of bored annoyance is something else he can’t quite name. He may not excel at her kind of manipulation, but he knows her well enough that he can tell when she’s hiding something. “But now that she’s dead, there’s going to be a war, Geralt. There’s no other word for it. Emhyr’s going to make a play for her territory, and I promise you, he’ll leave no survivors. Those of us who’ve managed to scrape by living in Calanthe’s shadow—all of the two-bit fences and madams and blackmarket dealers she so magnanimously turned a blind eye to because we’re too small-time to pose a threat—are going to have two options: submit to Emhyr, or be destroyed.”

Geralt frowns. “You think Emhyr had her killed so he could consolidate power.”

Yennefer examines her nails for a moment before meeting his eye. “I think no one else has even realized it was a murder yet—not the police, not Calanthe’s lackeys—and that means they’re not going to see Emhyr coming until it’s too late.”

“Hm.” If Yennefer’s right, it’ll be the worst bloodbath the city’s seen in years—and, if he succeeds, it’ll mean that Emhyr has a total monopoly on the city’s criminal underworld. “What makes you so sure it wasn’t suicide—or, hell, an accident?”

“Someone saw it happen. A singer. He emcees the stage show at one of Calanthe’s nightclubs.”

“And this singer, he—what?—just volunteered this information to you out of the goodness of his heart?”

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “I overheard him talking to some of the dancers about how traumatic it was, being practically the last person to see Calanthe alive. He’s an insufferable fool. I don’t think he even realizes what he actually saw. But he said enough to convince me Calanthe’s death wasn’t what it looked like.”

If this singer has been running his mouth, chances are Yennefer’s not the only one who’s put two and two together. And if word gets out that he knows something that would incriminate Emhyr, he’s as good as dead. “All right, I’ll talk to him,” Geralt promises. If only to convince the idiot to shut up and get out of town until this all blows over.

“Good,” Yennefer says, in that self-satisfied tone she used to use whenever he finally gave in to her demands—which was most of the time, if he’s being honest with himself. She hops down from his desk and smooths out her skirt, though it’s hardly wrinkled at all. “I’m glad I could convince you to take this case, Geralt.”

“What case?” he asks wryly, though he can feel a smile trying to form in spite of his better judgment and the pain in his ribs. “I don’t see any client here who’s likely to pay me for my trouble, do you? Sounds more like I’m doing you a favor.”

“Well,” she says, with a shrug, “and why shouldn’t you?” She’s already halfway to the door, and he can almost feel her putting this whole conversation behind her. “I’m sure there’s something you owe me for.”

There is, of course. There will always be a debt between them, one that he will never be able to repay, no matter how many favors he does.

“You’ll let me know what you find out,” she says, without looking back at him. Her hand is on the doorknob, and for a moment, he thinks she’ll turn around and say something else—something he’s been waiting to hear for so long. The light bends again through the blinds, bright slashes on her dark shape in the doorway, and then she’s gone.

*

Part two