#but Door is also like the *most* the “absent and conflicting relationships with the father” that the Alan Wake files mentioned | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eleanore-delphinium · 3 years

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Reciprocate II (2021 version)

DISCLAIMER: Repost with additional details and edits from same title piece found in DAMIRAE ENTRIES.

But this particular one didn’t really change much as compared to the 2021 version of part 1.

Finale: Reciprocate III: The After

Reciprocate II: Damian

In a sterile white room devoid of any color and of any indication of ownership or personalization, laid a single figure on top of a white medical bed, white sheets tucked over her sternum. The room felt bright because of the color, it was also rather lonely and rather very empty—except for the pale woman with long purple hair that laid on the bed. An empty chair on her right side and bedside tables with nothing on top, on either side of her bed. Her hands laid on her sides and her eyes closed. There was no indication of movement except for her quiet breathing.

The door opened to reveal Damian Wayne in a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks and black dress shoes. Despite his neat outfit, his hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot with eyebags underneath. He looked as though he had not slept well at all—which was likely the case.

Afterall, he had not slept well since the day Raven got stabbed. There were good days and bad, now—today was a better day. He walked to the empty chair beside Raven’s right hand, his back facing the door. He sat on the chair and gazed longingly at the figure on the bed.

And he recalled what had transpired that night—the night that caused Raven’s current medical condition.

Raven had fallen and her eyes slowly fluttered close. He could tell that she was trying not to lose consciousness. Raven lifted a hand towards Damian and Garfield’s general direction making Damian wonder if she was trying to reach out to him or Garfield.

‘It had to be Garfield.’, He thought because it would not make sense if Raven was trying to reach out to him. Damian couldn’t help but feel very bitter inside. She would never choose him. She would unlikely want to hold him with her dying breath.

At this moment the creature was distracted by Tim who was on the other side, seeing this—Damian took the opportunity to run to Raven. He took note of the footsteps that followed behind him, Garfield was right behind him as they ran toward Raven.

Her raised hand was faltering and Damian felt as though his heart was about to jump out of his throat-- out of fear.

No. You cannot close your eyes. I will not allow it!

Damian ran faster towards Raven and as her hand fell to the ground, he finally reached her side. But her eyes had also closed, and Damian held his breath as he-- so very gently, held her in his arms.

“Raven! Raven!” He called to her frantically. “No. No. No. Don’t close your eyes, please come back, stay conscious!” His breathing was ragged, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Damian bit his lip and held his breath in a conscious manner, as he tried to calm himself, and think. He had to think.

“Raven! Oh god no.” Garfield stood hovering above Raven, and the next second he was reaching out to Raven. But Damian pulled her closer to him and gave Garfield the darkest and cruelest glare Garfield had ever seen. And Garfield froze, he took a deep breath and gulped down his fear.

“Gar…” Terra came running towards Garfield, and her eyes laid on Raven. “No, if-if she didn’t try to protect me—” Damian gave Terra the same glare Garfield received, making her unable to finish her thought. She froze in fear too.

“We have to stop her bleeding.” Damian absent-mindedly said, his voice cold, and as he scanned Raven’s wound, his eye twitched. Raven had a gaping hole on her chest, Damian did not want to think about it—but the situation was truly grim.

“How are you going to—” Garfield received another glare from Damian.

Damian was not asking or seeking their help to stop Raven’s bleeding, he had said what he had said to inform them only. He will deal with Raven’s injury, no one else is suitable.

Damian reached for something in his utility belt, and he pulled out three silver balls. His facial expression seemingly frozen in a cold and uncaring manner as he placed the one-inch sized ball strategically on her gaping wound. He placed one on top and two at the bottom, forming a triangle. It beeped and glowed a faint blue and from it came out a purple like foam.

Damian’s right eye twitched, his lips pressed together so much that his lips became pale and his brows drawn so closely together, that he looked like he would punch the next person who would touch him.

He had no choice. This was the only way to ‘plug’ Raven’s gaping hole. She was losing too much blood because of it.

Damian clenched his teeth even more, if that was even possible. He leaned Raven on his right arm as his hands clenched tightly. If he had not had gloves on, then anyone would be able to see how white his fist had become. His brows still tightly knit together, it looked painful to watch his brows like that.

And to Garfield and Terra, he looked like the scariest man on earth. They seemed to fear Damian more than the unbeatable monster that had stabbed Raven into this state.

Damian hated what he had to do. He hated that he had to plug Raven like this. He hated that he knew he had to put her down now. Now.

There was a moment of hesitance, but Damian bit his lip till it bled to keep his focus.

“We need to put Raven in a safe spot,” He said in a clipped manner as he picked Raven up in his arms in a princess carry, “Distract that thing and keep him far away from her.” He continued absent-mindedly as his eyes quickly analyzed the best spot to hide her away.

And at the same time, he recalled her injury. There were no organs that were damaged, that at least is a good thing. And he hoped and prayed-- at that same moment-- that Raven can survive this.

With Damian standing on his full length, Garfield snapped out from his frozen state and had begun to reach out for Raven once again.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Damian snarled in such an unsightly manner that Garfield remembered the initial fear Damian gave him. Terra did not feel the fear again because she was looking at Garfield with worry and realization. Terra missed to see Damian’s expression and his words did not register in her mind because she knew at that moment while looking at Garfield—that Raven and Garfield will always have history.

Of course, she knew of Raven and Garfield’s relationship and didn’t mind it. Raven was simply his past. Garfield told her that he loves her, and that he would never go back to Raven—if that was something Terra worried about. And he must have kept his word. But the years Raven and him shared was something that could never be erased. And emotions built up throughout those years was something that couldn’t be replaced so easily. To realize such a thing now of all places—

Damian had accidentally hit Terra as he started moving, cutting Terra’s thoughts. For a second her eyes laid on the boy wonder—and to her, she did not see a hero protecting or saving someone. She saw a man holding someone in a way that showed he was too afraid to hold any tighter in fear of losing her. A man refusing to blink, too afraid that it would be his last sight of her and that she would turn into dust any moment now. He held her in such a cautious manner—that it hurt to see him so forlorn like that.

That was something she thought she would never see in Damian Wayne. His body—every cell seemed to radiate a want to not let go of the woman in his arms. A conflict of holding her so tightly so he can remember how it feels to hold her and yet—still, he was a man of responsibility. Despite his desire to just be with her—he knew where he stands—the monster was still there.

Terra quickly turned, refusing to see Garfield’s expression—it was something she did not want to see right now.

“I will cover for you, Damian.” She told him firmly not waiting for a response and simply initiated her suggestion.

Damian sighed loudly in the white room, his forehead resting on his hands that was propped up on the bed beside Raven’s right hand. When they finally got to neutralize the enemy, the first thing Damian did was run to where Raven was. He was so afraid that when he got there, she would be cold and blue.

But she held on.

She held on.

He sighed again, as he turned his head that was resting on his right hand towards Raven.

He begged his father to help him keep her alive, and the first few months—God those were awful. When they arrived to have her healed, nothing was working. Whatever that creature was and what he did, messed with her. He begged his father to do anything—anything. Somehow, they found a way to stabilize her and close the gaping hole in her chest—of course every step was a struggle.

Seeing her with so many tubes and monitors, some advanced tech and some actual alien tech, hurt Damian in a way that a bullet shot could not compare. And he felt so helpless. It was probably the helplessness that hit him even worse than a bullet wound.

Damian Wayne—son of Batman, son of Bruce Wayne, a robin—a boy wonder—an assassin at some point, still a man seen as the heir of the Demon’s Head—felt so powerless despite all the titles and honor and glory those titles held. He still felt powerless.

He held the woman he had loved for years in his arms, and had to leave her in her injured state to defend the world of the very same creature that injured her in the first place. He left her all alone in a corner—not even knowing if she would be alive when he returned. He knew that having someone guard her would be a waste of manpower. He had to think of the bigger picture—because it is his responsibility, he couldn’t put her over that. And a small part of him hates himself for it.

He had seen her struggle to survive day after day, and night after night since then. The rejection her body faced—and his selfishness, thinking—hoping that she would survive it.

And she did.

She survived everything. And most of the tubes and monitors were finally taken away. Of course, she still had an IV drip and a monitor checking her vitals, just in case. Still, it was fifteen less tubes and monitors—and doctors and scientists.

Damian reached out for Raven’s right hand with his left, his palm resting on the back of her hand. He had gotten so used to all the tubes and monitors, that the first week without them was so unfamiliar to him.

Every time he visited her, he expected the tubes and monitors to multiply and revert back to when they couldn’t seem to cure her. Up until just a few weeks ago, he expected that they would return because she would become unstable again. But it never happened. He was so thankful it never happened. He slipped his right hand under hers, his worries just seemed like paranoia.

“Raven, won’t you wake up already?” He muttered as he had gotten used to talking to himself whenever he visited her.

“I still planned to confess to you,” He chuckled emptily “Won’t you at least let me do that?” He brought her hand to his forehead. “Let me be selfish…”

~.~.~.~.~

The door to Raven’s personal room opened, revealing Damian in his robin uniform, his mask off. He walked to her in a slightly slump manner and he took her hands on his and sighed.

“I’m sorry Raven, it appears that I can’t visit you for the unforeseeable future. Something came up.” He looked at her sleeping face sadly.

“Don’t be angry, I try to visit you every day after all, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes, but I never missed a day since you got injured.” He paused a vacant look on his face. “If you ask me, I’m pretty sure they were lenient on my lack of participation in missions recently because I looked as if I had lost a lover.” He laughed in a broken manner.

“It’s funny-- how I am reacting as if I had lost a lover—when we never really got to be together. It would be nice if you wake up—at least let me confess to you clearly. And you can put a rest to my pining.” He didn’t know why, but he felt that he had to rearrange her hair before he left and so he did.

“I will come back, I promise you.” He said as he reluctantly let go of her hand. He refused to look back as he left the room, and took his mask from his utility belt and puts it on.

~.~.~.~.~

The door opened gently again as Damian Wayne in an all-black outfit walked in. He was in his signature black turtleneck. He had on a thin black framed eyeglass on his nose and held a book on his left hand. He had gotten used to opening the door slowly and gently, out of the fear that when he opened the door she wouldn’t be there anymore.

At first, he thought that it was an unreasonable fear, but clearly it was not. He was afraid that the time he wasn’t with her, she would have long been gone. And when he comes to visit, he would be greeted with an empty bed. And he would not be able to even say his farewells.

He closed the door even more gently—because when the door is closed this time was theirs—well his. Because she was still unconscious—still very unaware of his presence.

“Hey Raven, I brought the book I last read to you—I have enough time today to read to you just a few chapters.” He said as he walked to his position beside her. He took a seat on the chair and held her right hand with his right hand. “It would be nice if you woke up soon.” He smiled grimly, the words have started becoming something he said out of habit.

Damian gave her a little recap of what he had read to her before as he held her hand. After that, he continued where he left off, holding her hand when he wasn’t flipping through pages. He read in a slow manner; his mind more aware of the fact that her hand felt so very right against his, instead of the words he was saying aloud.

~.~.~.~.~

Raven was still lying unconscious in the white room, on her white bed. Everything was quiet inside.

“Damian it’s been almost eight months!” Came a voice from outside the room.

“So, what Grayson!” Yelled back the voice of Damian Wayne. He was in an argument right outside of Raven’s room with Dick Grayson, his adopted brother—also known as Nightwing.

“Are you serious Dami?” A pause. “At least let others see her!”

“By others you mean Garfield, right?” A loud bang was heard from inside the room.

“Well—shit, yes! Why won’t you let Gar see her? He has been asking about her or where she is.”

“Don’t you dare bring Garfield to see her—don’t you dare!” A furious reply from Damian as shuffling footsteps were heard.

“Look man, I get it. I really do. But Damian, you can’t just hide her away from her teammates.” Dick said in a tone of anxiousness.

“You see her too.” Was Damian’s quiet response.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” A louder bang entered Raven’s room ending Dick’s words.

“She planned to leave anyway.” Damian said defensively. There was silence for a few seconds and a frustrated humph could be heard from outside the room.

“I—I didn’t think anyone would be able to deal with seeing her in that way—I” Damian paused. “I don’t think they’d want to see her in a coma—I thought it was for the best. I—I’m sorry Grayson, I will let them see her—but—just not Garfield, Grayson. That is all I am asking from you, just not him. He caused her enough pain.” And the door to Raven’s room opened. She still laid there asleep. Damian did not wait for Dick’s reply and he slowly closed the door behind him.

He was in a black button up polo shirt tucked into his black slacks, that was held into place by a black belt with a silver metal piece and he wore his black leather shoes. He looked tired but there was no hint of anger from what had transpired outside Raven’s bedroom.

“You must have heard our little argument, huh?” He said approaching the familiar chair he always sat on when visiting her. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.” He continued as he sat down on the chair and took her hand in his again. “Of course, I didn’t disturb your sleep, after all you're still unconscious.” A hollow chuckle soon followed.

Damian placed the back of Raven’s hand against his forehead. “You can wake up now. Scold me for being so selfish. For not allowing Garfield to visit you. In fact, for not letting anyone else visit you aside from a select few. But—mostly Garfield. I will not allow him in here too— in this space-- so why don’t you wake up and just tell me how selfish I am.” He tilted his head to look at Raven while her hand was still pressed on the temple of his head.

But as usual there was no response, he was so used to talking to himself by now. At this point, Damian was very convinced that Raven had tried to reach out for Garfield, one last time, before she fainted. And the thought was something that caused him bitterness.

Even in her near-death, Garfield was the last in her mind.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian was sitting on the same chair holding Raven’s hand. Three months have passed since Damian and Dick’s heated argument outside of Raven’s bedroom. He wore a red hoodie with black pants and black shoes. This time around, for the first time, he looked less tired since this whole ordeal happened.

“It looks like you had a lot of visitors this month too.” He glanced at the flowers on both bedside tables, pictures in frames of Raven with the team and other things. Now the room seemed to have a little bit of a personality.

“I think it’s great that you have some visitors. Though I admit, I think that eventually they will come to visit less and less, so I think you should wake up soon. Everyone misses you a lot. I think the longer you stay asleep people would forget about you. Everyone you know is a hero Raven, and even though you stay asleep—we still have to defend the people. Everyone’s priorities will shift and they would have less time to see you. And because they have started settling with your absence, for sure the visits will lessen. But I promise, I will visit you every day until you wake up.” Damian placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand and he froze.

His lips hovering over her hand. He wiped the spot he kissed her at, with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I should be asking permission. I didn’t—” He stared at the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I don’t know since when I started doing that, but I’m sorry. I overstepped.” He gently placed her hand back on the bed and stood up. “Let’s see what’s in the drawers, shall we?” He muttered to himself and surveyed every nook and cranny and objects in her room, keeping a mental inventory.

“We will be starting a new book soon. I no longer keep track of the books we’ve read.” He said after finishing his inspection of the room and went to sit back on the chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Well—I mean I keep track of the titles but no longer itemize them…” He added quietly, he used to count them but stopped at around the fifth book because it seemed like the list would continue to grow. And seeing the number rise would just be another reminder of the fact that the days waiting for Raven to wake was stretching to impossibility.

~.~.~.~.~

It was a little over a year since Raven has been in her comatose state. The room felt heavy and she stirred because of it. Her breathing a little louder—a little labored. Her eyes fluttered open—her vision a blur. She saw two figures at the foot of her bed. The taller one looking at the shorter man. The shorter one was looking at her startled—he seemed to have an odd skin color. She could almost swear it was green. Raven’s eyes started to roll back to unconsciousness.

“Dick, she’s awake!” It was a familiar voice; Raven couldn’t help but think.

“What?” Dick turned to look at Raven, her eyelids slowly closing, her labored breathing slowly quieting down.

“I saw her eyes open; I swear it!” She recognized the voice as Garfield, but knowing who it was did not give her any extra motivation to fight her sleepiness.

“What the fuck is going on here!” Another familiar voice furiously entered Raven’s faltering consciousness. She wanted to wake up—to fight the tiredness she was feeling. But it was simply too late now.

The door had banged open when Damian entered. Damian was still wearing his black outer coat, his shoes dirty as he had just arrived from outside. He had no time to freshen up to visit Raven because he found out what Dick was up to.

When his eyes laid on Garfield who was looking at Raven, he wanted to rip Garfield’s head off. Damian Wayne looked like he was going to pop a vein on his neck. He glared at Dick with such open hostility that Dick was taken aback, and Garfield beside him recalled the fear Damian instilled in him that night Raven got injured.

“Her eyes opened; I saw it!” Garfield said frantically, hoping that would ease Damian’s anger. Damian stole a glance at Raven—but she was at the same state he had last seen her in.

Comatose.

“I asked you one thing, Grayson!” He growled as he slowly stomped his way to Dick whose hands were up in a ‘I surrender’ way. Damian grabbed Dick’s coat collar and pulled him close. “One thing Grayson!” He shoved Dick and pointed at Garfield.

“Look—you can’t continue denying someone who wants to visit a friend.” Dick tried to calm his brother down as he straightened his coat.

“Friend?” Damian snorted in response.

“Look, Damian I begged Dick to bring me to her.” Garfield said and he received Damian’s angry glare.

“Get. Out.” Damian simply said, he looked as though he would kill either of them any second now. For some weird reason Garfield got a little more courage at that moment, he began to open his mouth. Dick seeing Garfield’s lips open—quickly intercepted by pulling Garfield by the arm and pulling him towards the door.

“I’m sorry little D, we will talk about it outside.” Dick said as he draggedGarfield out, giving Garfield a stern look to ensure Garfield’s silence. Garfield wasn’t happy but he understood that Dick was looking out for him.

Damian stood where he was, glaring at Raven as he waited for the door to close behind Dick and Garfield. He was stiff in his spot and his fists clenched so tightly. He was still very much angry. He stood like that for five more minutes before he tried to calm himself down. His fist unclenched and his brows unfurrow.

“So—well, stop pretending then—he's gone now—so wake up.” He demanded in a low voice as he hovered beside Raven near the chair. She did not move. And Damian laughed brokenly as he fell on his knees. He reached out for her right hand absentmindedly and rested his nose on the back of her palm.

“So, it turns out you just needed him to visit you to wake up?” Damian whispered as tears fell on her hand. “So why aren’t you awake already?” He sobbed.

It was never him—she never chose him.

~.~.~.~.~

It had been four months since Garfield had been regularly visiting Raven, and at times he would also bring Terra with him. Damian had conceded Garfield's wish to allow him visitation rights to see Raven. Damian could not stay angry at Dick for over two weeks, and the pair reconciled, despite Dick undermining Damian’s wishes. Damian understood that Dick was looking out for him.

Damian’s family was very much worried over him since Raven’s fall. He acted more detached and unapproachable. He wasn’t sleeping well and every second he could spare he was always hovering over Raven. In fact, he slept well hunched by Raven’s bedside with Raven’s hand against his hands and forehead. Damian was even unwilling to celebrate his twenty-second birthday with Raven still unconscious. And they could see the toll it was taking on Damian.

His family knew he needed a little push to try and let Raven’s state go and pushing Damian to allow Garfield entry was the way to do it. Damian needed to move on.

But here he was again, in the white room he specifically prepared for her. Her accommodations are all arranged by him, and his visits are always a constant. But the past four months were difficult, as he was also actively avoiding having to meet Garfield when Garfield was visiting Raven.

When Damian was able to take a step back from his anger at what Dick did—he knew that his family did it to distract Damian—to keep him away from lurking around Raven. He understood it was made of good intentions. Damian reached out for Raven’s hand, a habit he has come to develop long ago.

He wore a plain white shirt with jeans. His hair was not as neat as it usually was, and there were eyebags under his eyes yet again.

“But I guess I am a man who will only love one person in their lifetime.” He muttered, placing Raven’s hand against his right cheek. “I’ve come to wonder sometimes if I am unfortunate to be such a man—or to fall for you—” he studied her face; he has memorized every detail about her. How could he not when he was here, beside her so frequently.

“I’ve come to learn that loving you is not something to be regretful about. In fact, I am rather thankful for it. But you really got me pining over you, Raven.” He sighed, his eyes not capturing even the smallest of movement from Raven. “I love you.” He whispered and brushed his lips against the skin on the back of her hand.

A week and a half after, Damian paced at the foot of Raven’s bed, very much frustrated. He paused and glared at Raven, running his hands through his head, a sign of his developing anger. He stomped towards his spot as he glared at Raven again.

His hair was a mess, his eyebags had gotten darker. His clothes that was a plain black shirt with jeans had creases, very uncharacteristic of him.

“I don’t get it!” He said, containing most of his anger. “You obviously woke up the first time Garfield visited you! Tsk, as it turns out, all you need was for him to visit you-- for you to wake up. So why did you go back to sleep!” His tone louder now and he sighed to try and dispel a little of his anger. His hand at his side clenched into balls.

Damian was seething in anger, and he exhaled and inhaled in air as if he was palpitating. Finally, the anger he had dissipated. But it was replaced by raw hopelessness, anyone who would see him in such a state, would feel their hearts knot.

“You really—really got me pining over you.” Damian said as he knelt on the floor with a hunched back as he took her right hand in between his palms. “It’s funny how you pined over someone else as I pined over you—it seems that you're making me pine over you just as long as you pined over him.”

The chair he usually sat on was across the room, toppled down. A droplet of water falls in front of Damian’s right knee.

~.~.~.~.~

Two months passed just like that. Raven’s friends had long since stopped visiting her as frequently as they did the first three months. Asking them to take so much time off of their busy hero life was too much to ask for. But Damian always made time for her, and at almost a year and a half the toll of doing so had fully manifested.

He looked so tired, his eye bags are in the darkest shade it had been since the accident. He looked thinner, not scarily thin, but it was obvious he had lost some weight. His clothes were as neat as it could be. His white button up shirt crisp and so is his black slacks. His black leather shoes are very shiny. He placed a lot of effort in his appearance because even he could tell that his health has waned, and he was compensating with his clothes.

When Raven was in ICU for the first three months, he was in such a bad state. When she finally got relatively cured but was in comatose, he looked better-- more relaxed. Then a little after, he had to continue with his responsibilities, particularly as a hero and somehow, he managed. The weight he had initially lost, he had regained and now he had shed perhaps even more than he did at that time.

But now at almost a year and a half of juggling hero life, personal and family life. Being with Raven almost every day since the night she got hurt. To actively avoid Garfield while Garfield was visiting and arranging his own visits to go around Garfield’s visitation, but also keeping to his schedule and preference of seeing Raven on a very regular basis. And Raven still not waking up—Damian was quite spent.

He was sitting on his chair facing Raven’s right hand. His head propped onto his hands which were propped up on his knees. He was looking at Raven’s face blankly, dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t know how much longer he could do this.

Raven’s state was always at the forefront of his mind. And when he was on a mission, he tried to put it as a lesser priority. But when he is near to death his first thought is: If I die who will look after Raven? And so, he fights with every screaming fiber he had, even when he was in such excruciating pain. After all, he still had to see her wake up.

One would think a year and a half wasn’t really a long time—but it did not feel like it has been just over a year for Damian—it felt like he has been waiting for her to wake up for five years.

He had just realized quite recently, just exactly how much stress he had gotten due to all this. And it was taking a major toll on him. He now completely understood why his family was worried about it—about him. Hindsight after all is 20/20 and he now clearly saw exactly how concerning his state was.

There was only one solution. His eyes flickered to Raven—he had not noticed that his gaze had drifted off of her and was surprised when his eyes laid on her again. He sighed and suddenly stood up, and picked up a lock of her hair.

“Raven, your hair has grown quite a bit—it's already at waist length. I thought of having it cut—but I think that should be your decision.” He placed it back down. “If you don’t wake up any time soon—I’m afraid I would have to let you go.” He mumbled to himself as he turned around to lean on the bed and gaze at the ceiling blankly.

Two weeks after, Damian was back in her room, looking even worse. This time he was just standing beside Raven with a very empty gaze. He had been standing there in his black slacks, black dress shoes and a green button up polo shirt for fifteen minutes already.

“I give up Rae.” He looked down on the ground. His words were so soft because he was very much afraid of the implications himself. He knew he had to let her go.

“I—I don’t think I can visit you like this.” He fought the tears as he said his words a little louder. And there was nothing left to say, he just softly touched her hand for a second and pulled away and then looked at her blankly.

A month after Damian’s decision to let Raven go, he realized getting to the conclusion and acknowledging what had to be done and executing his decisions were two completely different things. He was still visiting her in the same consistency that he always had. And he knew he had to fight to break the habit that he had already formed. Seeing her was second nature to him, and he simply had to break it.

~.~.~.~.~

Two months after, Damian was finally able to decrease his visits. And had even met Garfield a few times and actually didn’t mind it. His visit reduction was not really significant but the fact he was able to decrease it at all, was a win for him.

He was in jeans and a red shirt, looking very casual and he looked more unbothered and not so tired. His hands in his pockets as he just stood. For the first time, he looked genuinely relaxed. His gaze at her was soft and the eyebags he had been sporting in different shades, for almost two years, were significantly less dark this time.

“I know I don’t visit often anymore—and you probably can’t tell—aside from the obvious,” A small twinkle in his eyes at the little joke. The fact that he could make a joke like that, spoke volumes of how far he had come. “You really made me pine over you for the duration you pined over Garfield. Nine years—you really made this whole thing come into full circle. You pined for him for nine years and decided to move on completely—but this happens.” He gestured at her generally.

“Now I have pined for you for the same duration, and I have decided to move on too.” He said grimly and the hint of playfulness he had prior was gone. “It really came full circle.”

He just stood to her right with a small smile. He tried his best not to stay so long to visit her nowadays. Damian found that standing was the best option in order for him not to stay longer than he intended.

Damian puts his hand atop Raven’s, he has also avoided holding her hand properly or else he’d find himself sitting on his spot and just holding her hand. He would then talk to her and the intended short visit would become like his regular visits from before.

“I have decided. I am moving on—I am letting you go.” And he pulled his hand away a little too quickly, afraid of the temptation that was the familiarity of her hand against his—or maybe it was his hand against hers. After all, it was always him holding onto her.

His head had looked away to look at the flowers on her bedside tables. He has been talking to her about visiting her less, and letting her go for a few months now. At first it was just a passing thought. But the last two months, it seemed Damian had to tell her every time he visited. He was unaware of how frequent he was telling her that. But in retrospect, he could tell now that he had been dropping hints.

It started from hints, to telling her absentmindedly, to repeatedly telling her every time he visits—until finally he was able to visit less. And because Damian turned his head, he missed the small twitch of Raven’s hand when he pulled his hand away, to look at her bedside tables.

There was silence, as he looked down and closed his eyes. He squeezed his eyes for a moment then sighed as he looked at Raven, a faint smile on his lips. He took a step back, feeling as though he was leaving his heart on this spot. He then turned feeling lonely yet strong and regretful at the same time.

When he was gone, Raven’s eyebrow twitched.

The next day when Damian decided to check on Raven’s condition, he was frozen in fear to see the scientist and doctors hovering over Raven who was attached to so many monitors and tubes.

It was like he had stepped into the time she was brought in to close up her wound. He was unfrozen when she saw her spasming. He ran towards her, as her chest lifted and she was choking, black almost slime like blood came out from her mouth and spilled from her oxygen mask.

“Sir—we need you out of the way.” A doctor pulled Damian away. “Who let this one in!” The doctor added and a nurse took Damian away, trying to console him.

“This is odd—there seems to be no traces of the compound we found last time. But her body is rejecting something.” Damian heard the doctor say, at that moment Raven’s eyes opened and her line of sight fell on Damian’s instantly. Her hand lifted slowly to his direction; her eyes wet as her face slowly turned red from the lack of oxygen. A doctor had already punctured her lungs to assist her in breathing, but black blood was oozing out from it.

“Let me, the fuck go!” Damian yelled as he strongly shoved the nurse off of him. He was normally someone who didn’t do this, but seeing Raven’s face slowly contort to fear and resignation, he actually went against the nurse. He remembered when she was in ICU for the first few months he observed quietly from the distance, but he couldn’t now.

“Raven!” He called out as he knelt on the floor and held her right hand that she had stretched out. “I promise, I will not leave you. So, you have to fight this!”

She squeezed his hand in hers as best as she could as her eyes closed and a tear slipped from her eye.

“Sir—I’m sorry but you are being a distraction.” A bulky man approached Damian, giving him no choice but to let go of Raven’s hand and put his hands up as he slowly left the room.

“She’s—I heard the subject has powers—” A person in a lab gown said, perhaps a scientist.

“Patient.” A doctor cuts off the scientist.

Before Damian was shoved out of the room, he stole a glance of Raven, her hand was glowing a faint purple black hue. And it seemed that she could breathe.

“Sir—there seems to be something appearing—” And that was the last thing Damian heard before the door was shut close in front of him.

Two weeks later Raven was finally stable but still in a coma. They were fighting with her condition for those two weeks—cross referencing and analyzing data, finding and testing out new information. And everything has now calmed down. He was only allowed entry today after the stunt that he pulled.

Damian was sitting on his chair, holding her hand. He wore a white t-shirt with many creases. His hair is a slightly better case compared to his shirt. And the outfit was complete with a plain pair of jeans and casual shoes. And to top it all off, his eyebags had become darker again.

”You really scared me. God, I forgot how afraid I was of losing you recently—you really know how to make someone remember, huh?” He muttered as he put her hand against his forehead, he was shaking a bit, as he fought his tears. And he felt her hand twitch against his—and he choked as he looked at her face.

Her eyes were still close but for the first time, he actually felt her react. In two years, she finally moved. He smiled tightly and nodded his head. He brought her hand against his lips and softly kissed her hand.

“You reached out to me that night, didn’t you?” He put her hand against his cheek as he turned his head towards her again. “You have to wake up and clarify that to me.” And he heard her loudly inhale.

For the first time in months, he finally had hope that she would wake up. “I promise you; I will wait for you to wake up. This time, I will not break this promise.”

~.~.~.~.~

The door suddenly opened with a panic stricken Damian. He was unable to take off his outer coat and change into cleaner shoes because he heard a crash from generally where Raven’s room was located, on the second floor, when he had just entered the building.

“Raven!” He called out his fear practically at the base of his throat.

When he heard the loud crash, he feared for the worst. His eyes at first saw an empty bed, and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. The vase on her right bedside table with flowers had shattered on the floor. He quickly searched for Raven, and exhaled deeply when he spotted her at the foot of her bed. She was holding onto her bed with great difficulty. Her eyes observed Damian wearily.

He approached her, thinking that maybe this was a dream.

“Raven.” He whispered when he was two feet away, her violet eyes did not show any recognition at seeing Damian. He picked her up and carried her in his arms, and despite not recognizing him at first, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Damian.” She whispered and he squeezed him back. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, as he carried her back to her bed. He set her down gently as he pulled away, she grabbed his right hand.

“It feels so perfect.” She gently told him, and Damian was startled by her words. A smile slowly formed and he found himself chuckling.

“I’ve been here almost every day, holding your hand. Maybe your hand molded into mine—” He shook his head. "Or maybe the other way around.”

“I—my memory is kind of fuzzy,” Raven said as she laid back in bed. “But I know you, I remember you. I heard you so often. It became scary when you weren’t there.” Her eyes started to flutter, she seemed a little bit too tired. But she continued to hold his hand until she fully fell into slumber, to which her grip loosened.

Damian took the opportunity to call the doctors and scientist to inform them of her condition.

When she awoke again the doctors, scientists and Damian were talking.

~.~.~.~.~

A month after, Raven was already walking by herself inside her room. She started walking around the villa quite recently. But she has not been able to walk outside yet. She found that once the door to go outside the villa was opened, her knees would buckle. So, for the past month she was mostly roaming indoors.

She had found out that this was one of Bruce Wayne’s properties, and Damian had asked for the property. Damian was someone who would never ask anything of anyone if he could do it himself, so it was surprising to everyone that Damian had asked for this villa. And because of that Bruce granted Damian the property, if not for that, in the very least to give Damian some peace of mind. At least then Damian would know Raven had a place to stay and would not be kicked out if he so much as vanished.

She also found out that Damian did not spare any expense in her recuperation and that her situation was quite odd. The creature’s origin could not be quite narrowed down, thus its effects on her were up on the air. But that was where the doctors and scientists and all the tech was for, alien tech included. With the collective resources provided, they were able to make something to assist Raven’s condition.

“Raven, I think you should really try to get out.” Damian said as he walked in. He looked so happy seeing her, just standing by the window gazing out. She turned her head to smile at him.

He looked better—in fact the happiest and relaxed he had ever been in two years. His clothes were pressed well, it was a casual attire, and he had no hint of any kind of weariness. No more eyebags, and his eyes no longer looked so dead.

“If you go with me, I can try.” She responded, she had not seen him in two weeks due to his busy schedule, with the team and talking to her doctors and scientists. Him learning and relearning everything about her condition since she got attacked, and he also had family matters, he didn’t really have time to be with Raven recently and she understood.

She kept herself busy by building her physical strength through walking within the walls of Damian’s villa. She also used the time to comb through her thoughts.

“Okay.” He agreed as he offered her his right hand and she accepted it with both her hands. Until now he couldn’t believe that she was awake.

“I really thought I was dreaming when you woke up a month ago.” He confessed again as he sighed and led her to the door.

“I’m here. Everything is still a bit fuzzy. But I know you—I trust you. Your Damian.” Raven responded unhurriedly as she placed a hand on his arm.

Fifteen minutes later, Damian came in with Raven in his arms weeping.

“I—I can’t… it—it…” And she wept.

“I’m sorry, we will take it step by step. I will be here if you ever want to try and go outside.” He comforted her as he placed her on her bed. She nodded as he wiped away her tears.

“I thought I was going to die—” She sobbed. “There was something I wanted to do… I don’t—” Another sob, “I don’t recall what.”

He held her hands and then she suddenly froze on the spot. She looked at him in the eyes, and she blinked as the tears fell. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

And this time it was his time to freeze on the spot. Raven pulled her hands away from his, and she placed her fingertips on either side of his face.

“I was afraid that I didn’t have enough time with you. I wanted to know you more.” Her vision seemed to go back to that night. “I wanted to be with you.” She absent-mindedly brushed her lips against his. And when the pressure registered in her brain, she pulled away, an apology at the tip of her tongue.

Raven was surprised to feel an even heavier pressure against her lips. And she returned the kiss as well as deepened it. She noted how she was reacting very naturally over the situation, and how inexperienced Damian was. And she pulled away.

“Is this your first kiss?” She asked him. And he looked away with a small blush on his face.

“It’s—I’m very inexperienced with dating…” He admitted, and she observed him as she wiped her tears.

“I’m assuming, I have dated before.” She replied impartially.

“Yes, Garfield.” He responded blankly, and when the name came off Damian’s mouth, he saw her expression soften. His eye twitched as he looked away. He suddenly felt her hands against his, making him turn to look at her again.

“Gar… field…” She muttered, his hand clenching at the way she called his name. “Was he the only one I dated?” Damian nodded in response.

“I see…” She said with furrowed brows. “My head is aching a bit. I think I should rest…” Raven lets go of Damian’s hands.

“Can we try going outside again tomorrow?” Damian was pulled out from his reverie with the inquiry, surprise in his eyes.

“Of course, I would love that.” She smiled at his response.

“Can you—” She looked at him hesitatingly. “Can you hold my hand when we do?”

He was even more shocked to hear those words, and he smiled as he placed a hand on her cheek. “Of course, Raven.”

“I would like to date you, Damian.” Raven stared at Damian, who just pulled his hand away from her cheek and straightened his posture as he looked away.

“Your memory isn’t like what it was Raven, I think it’s too early to say that.” His response wasn’t something she enjoyed but Raven pressed her lips together and did not push him.

She didn’t recall her love for Garfield at the moment and assuming she would choose Damian when she does recall, would be too much of wishful thinking on Damian's part.

~.~.~.~.~

The sun was setting and the white room was filled with an orange hue from the setting sun outside. Raven and Damian had just arrived from walking outside. This time around she was able to stay outside longer without having flashbacks of the night she got stabbed. It was great progress. But she always held Damian as if he was the only remaining lifeboat in an open, turbulent ocean.

Damian and Raven were continuing a pleasant conversation they had outside in her bedroom, when suddenly the door opened.

“Raven!” Garfield came in with such a relieved look on his face, his eyes expectant as he searched for her. Damian and Raven’s happy conversation grew stale as they turned their head to the door.

“Raven!” He called out again when his eyes landed on her but Raven remained in place. “Of course, you wouldn’t tell me she is awake!” Garfield added with a glare to Damian, whose head was casted down.

“Tsk, Greyson.” He muttered, Greyson right behind Garfield but was hidden from Damian’s line of sight. Despite Damian’s head casted down, he took note of Raven’s reaction.

She was still, she stood in place, but Damian could tell, she was so close to running to Garfield and hugging him. And all Damian could do was squeeze his eyes shut, as he inhaled softly while clenching his fists.

Seeing Garfield, Raven felt like her soul from inside her was vibrating with excitement. And yet, at the same time it felt as though a thin layer of frost blanketed her entire body, and it was enough to render her frozen. Despite her deep desire to hug Garfield, her feet were so heavily planted on the floor, that she didn’t even move an inch. Her breathing was shallow and unhurriedly soft, and she just focused on that.

The days had passed so pleasantly after Raven woke up that Damian had thought that he had a place in her heart. But seeing her like this, he knew—Garfield still outweighs him.

“Get out.” Raven said, to which Damian snapped his head to Raven’s direction, who had simply turned her back and walked to the window. “All of you.”

Damian wanted to say something, his fists curling and uncurling by his sides, but he saw her stiff figure with crossed arms as she stubbornly looked outside. He was the last to leave.

He came back a few hours later, to see Raven sitting by the windowsill looking outside.

“He hasn’t left has he?” She whispered hoarsely not looking at who entered. Damian shook his head as he replied, even though she would not see it.

“His downstairs, hoping you’d at least see him.” He got no response, but she tilted her head.

“I didn’t see him leave.” She muttered vacantly.

“I’m here to convince you to eat dinner.” And Raven turned to look at him, a frown on her face.

“Okay,” She sighed. “But you are eating with me.”

Damian was startled at hearing this, a second passed before the words sunk in.

“Alright.” He blinked at her.

“Here.” She added and he told her that he would be back, as he left for a moment to get them their dinner.

When he arrived with food, they sat on a pub table that was added a little after Raven woke up. It could only sit two people, and it was made of some nice honey brown wood. The cushions of the chair are red and its frame is made of the same wood as the table. It was rather small for two people, but they made do.

Raven was vacantly playing with her food while Damian observed her with a frown. He had not yet scolded her for not eating, as he was giving her just a little more time.

With a sigh she said, “It’s odd, when I saw him, it felt like I just realized the world was a puzzle with missing pieces, and his presence just made all the missing pieces appear on it’s designated places. He was familiar, he was someone I knew—love, maybe even… but something didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to approach him. And I didn’t want him to approach me.” Damian just listened as she said her piece.

The two were enveloped in a tranquility that evidently belonged to them, and them alone. They felt secured in each other’s presence and there was no response needed.

~.~.~.~.~

It took Raven three days to be able to even meet Garfield. The sun was setting, and from Raven’s window, one could see Raven talking with Garfield. They were sitting on a bench facing the sunset, their backs facing the window in Raven’s room.

So, it was a given that the two did not see Damian observing them from the window. He did not look upset nor joyful with the scene he was seeing. But once Garfield placed a hand on Raven’s hand, and she tilted her head a bit towards Garfield, you could see Damian’s face slowly turn into unpleasantness.

When the minutes passed, and Garfield nor Raven had not pulled away from one another, his face contorted to wanting to storm out from Raven’s room to standing still and just holding his breath—just hoping and wishing—that she had not chosen Garfield.

But the minutes continued to pass, and Garfield’s hand continued to rest on Raven’s hand. And Raven glanced at him with a smile forming on her lips. And Damian couldn’t help but think that despite Raven having difficulties in leaving the building with him, if it was Garfield with her—of course it would be easier for her to be outside with him-- with Garfield.

And Raven started closing in on the space between her and Garfield, and Damian did not want to see that. So, he turned around quickly, and he stood with his back against them, as he flexed his fists, and sighed. He had hurried to see her; he had gone through the garage so he was unable to see them in the yard. Once he got into her room, and she wasn’t there, Damian absentmindedly walked to the window. That was when he saw her and Garfield together on a bench, looking like lovers.

He wondered how long he stood by the window looking at them. He closed his eyes and sighed again, by the end of the day it was never him. He walked to the door without looking back.

A few days later, Raven is pacing her room anxiously. She had not seen Damian in days, she worried he saw her and Garfield the other day and that was why he was nowhere to be seen. But she wanted to explain to him what he had seen wasn’t what he thought. She had to tell him.

And she could feel the panic go up onto her throat. She sat on her bed, facing the door. She had refused to step out of her room after she talked to Garfield—not without Damian. She could not find the strength to go out of her room after her chat with Garfield.

Raven buried her hands on her face as the tears started to stream from her eyes. All she could see under her closed eyes, was the time—that night, when she reached out for Damian. The pain when that black spike hit her sternum.

She recalled her desire to be with Damian, but right now she felt it so very intensely that she was afraid. She was so afraid that she had lost that chance. And the door opened, and in an instant she was up on her feet with wide eyes. Seeing that it was Damian, she sobbed as she ran towards Damian and tackled him with a hug.

He was startled and it took a moment for him to realize that she was hugging him so tightly. He gently returned her hug.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back. I was so scared.” She wept on the nook of his shoulder, her feet not even touching the floor.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He replied softly, and tightened his hold on her as he set her down a bit so that she could touch the floor. They stood like that for a moment.

Raven eventually pulled away and tried to collect her bearings. She wiped her tears and looked at Damian in the eyes. On the other hand, he was wishing she hadn’t pulled away-- maybe that was the only time he could hold her like that. And she reached for his hands and it felt so right.

“When Gar came, and guided me outside, I couldn’t find the strength to step through the door. All I could think about was that I need you. I need you to hold my hand as I step outside. While that night kept flashing through my mind. But he held my hand—and it felt so familiar. And all my fears just vanished.” She looked down on their feet. “And I found myself outside—with him.” There was guilt in her face and on the tone of her voice. And Damian honestly did not want to hear what she had to say next. But she held his hands tighter, making him decide to just keep quiet. A small smile formed on her lips as tears fell and splatter on the floor.

“I forgot the time I was injured, till the time before he held my hands. It felt like I could breathe again.” Damian’s right eye twitched, he wondered what was her point. She suddenly flicked her head to look at him, and he was startled.

“He will always be someone that matters to me, we will always have history. I have loved him for nine years, we shared so many memories—so many firsts. But I do not want to be with him. I want to be with you. And I know I am asking a lot, but if all these don't bother you—I would love it, if you would date me.” But she was greeted with silence. “I want you. I want to be with you.” She softly added, her confidence fading.

“I don’t mind.” He said so softly, but Raven didn’t hear it.

“If that is an issue for you, then I completely understand.” She continued on.

“I don’t mind.” He repeated.

“I know it’s been two years, and that there must have been someone you became interested in. Or maybe you’ve even dated a bit. I know we don’t talk about it, but I get that—” She squeezed her eyes, her tone ready to break in a sob.

“Raven, I want to be with you.” He cupped her cheek and tilted her head towards him. She looked at him with the slightest hint of distrust. “I’ve always wanted to be with you—I waited for you.” He said, being able to say those words felt like such a relief to Damian. And the tears started falling from Raven’s eyes as the distrust was washed away.

“I almost gave up, I admit that.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her anymore. She cupped both of his cheeks.

“If I were in your place, even I would waver.” She told him, trying to catch his dodging eyes. When she finally was able to lock her eyes with his, she added. “Garfield will always have some meaning to me—his all I have known for nine years, even before sleeping for two years—my history with him is half of my life. I was afraid. I thought he was the only one who could possibly love someone like me—I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I want my next memories and moments-- with you. And slowly those memories I had, and my history with him, will just be a fraction of my life. I want you. I want every possible milestone with you, Damian.”

He slowly nodded, and when Raven’s eyes registered the nod, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle. But she looked like she was going to cry out of happiness and disbelieve. This time she has chosen him.

“I never thought this day would happen.” He leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, and a soft smile formed on her lips. And they shared the moment in silence. After a while, Damian talks.

“I was afraid to ask, or open up about this, especially since you were still recuperating—and your memories are fuzzy. But who would have thought you would catch me by surprise and open up the topic yourself?” Raven took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips, and he conservatively kissed back to which she deepened the kiss. And she pulled away recalling Damian’s inexperience last time.

“We will take it step by step. I might still remember more about Garfield, and I might get a little confused. But remind me that I chose you since that night.” She leaned her forehead against his, eyes locked with one another. Damian’s eyes flickered with surprise and the confirmation that she chose him that night, made his eyes soften with the acknowledgement. He caressed her face with his thumb.

“I finally caught up to you.” He whispered, a giggle bubbling up on the base of Raven’s throat.

~.~.~.~.~

A few months later, the white sterile room was no longer white nor empty. Raven had flipped the room with Damian’s help and approval. Its walls were now a soft lilac color. The room’s furniture was either accented with white, glass or silver metals. And the ceiling was littered with little crystals, that once the lights were off, would illuminate like stars in different colors. The medical bed swapped for a king sized bed. Her sheets were navy blue and white.

“Raven, are you ready?” Damian’s voice came from outside her open door. She turned in her white fitted dress with the thinnest spaghetti straps. Her long hair that passed her waist was tied into a fishtail braid.

“Of course!” She replied happily, as she ran towards the door, and tackled Damian with a hug and giggled.

“Excited for our brunch?” He teased.

“Absolutely!” She replied without missing a second.

Later that night they were in her bedroom. Damian sat on her bed and she was kneeling over his lap. Raven’s hair slowly unravelling from its braid. Their lips have been intertwined with one another for minutes now. He had one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, a bit too afraid to rest it on her bum. While her hands were on his neck and on his chest.

Raven broke off the kiss, and started kissing his neck.

“If we’re going too fast, you can tell me.” She muttered in between kisses. But when she did not hear any response, she pulled away to look at him.

“I know Garfield and I had a lot of firsts together, if that bothers you…” Damian broke away from his dazed state and looked at her questioningly.

“I admit, at first it did,” His eyes followed his hand as it traveled from her thigh to her waist which he caressed. “Thinking of how he knows how to please you…” He looked back at her conflicted eyes. “But that just means I have to learn how to please you my way. You two were together for so long—it would be a given that I’m not your first. That is alright. But you are mine.” He admitted a small blush on his face. And she smiled as she kissed his eye and trailed kisses to his jawline. He was being brought back to his dazed state.

“I feel honored.” She whispered in between her kisses. And she playfully bit his ear after. Damian was startled and grabbed her butt and she gasped.

“Then I will take the lead then.” She whispered alluringly by his ear, as her hands travelled under his shirt. Her braid was completely undone at this point, soft black wavy waist length hair cascading down her head.

FIN.

Bonus Scene:

Garfield and Raven were outside on the yard and they had been talking for hours that the sun had finally begun to set.

“You know, when I woke up, I couldn’t find myself to walk out of my room. Eventually, I was able to overcome it. But I found that it was so difficult to step outside the villa. All I could see was that night and being stabbed, and the last person I saw.” Raven confessed and Garfield placed a hand on hers to comfort her.

“But Damian was there, he guided me and stayed with me as we walked outside.” A small smile on her lips. “I always held him like I was in open water and he was the lifeboat. I was afraid of losing him. I mean, I still am. I still hold him so tightly, because I’m afraid that it would be my last chance with him. I thought I was going to die that night, Gar.”

“But when you offered your hand and held me, after you said you knew of my condition—my fear outside.” She glanced at the open area. “I forgot how afraid I was of going outside. It was like my fears these few months were nothing but a phantom. You were always associated with love and happy memories for me. But you and I both know, Gar, we were imperfect. We were destructive. We had become unhappy together for a very long time.” And she glanced at him fully.

“I want to say goodbye.” She finally said, and Garfield looked at her gently as Raven extended her arms to hug him. “I want to start a new romance—with Damian.” She whispered as they embraced one another.

“I wish you two happiness.” Garfield said as he pulled away.

“Yes, thank you.” She looked back at Damian’s villa. “I was so afraid I would lose him, I still do now, it's why I always hold him tightly whenever we go outside.” She looked back at the sunset that was facing them.

“I held on because of him—I’m sure it was him, I could feel his hand and hear him every now and then, until all I knew was his presence.” She mumbled mostly to herself.

Alternate (timeline) Ending:

Damian was asleep on the table, and had woken up with a jolt, all teary eyed.

“Damian, what’s wrong?” Raven said as she approached the table.

“I had a dream, you got injured and you were in a coma.” He replied. And he tells her what happened in his dream.

Alternate’s Alternate Ending: (Reciprocate timeline)

“I had a dream, you got injured and you were in a coma.” He replied as Raven sat down beside him. She gently places a hand on his, as she smiles softly.

“Damian, that did happen.” She replied unhurriedly.

35 notes · View notes

dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“...By the 1920s, only the very poorest Danish families had to depend on the economic contributions of adolescent children for survival, but in most households daughters were still expected to help supplement the household income by handing over their pay. Especially in their first years as wage earners, parental control over children's income was considerable. Mothers in charge of the family budget generally kept most of the wages, permitting adolescent wage earners only a limited weekly allowance for personal expenses. Young women's family responsibilities continued in other ways as well.

While sons were given much more leeway, daughters were generally expected to contribute their labor to the household after they arrived home from work. "In my family, all the children were sent out to work after their [Christian] confirmation [at the age of thirteen or fourteen], and we all had to give mother some of the money we earned for housekeeping," Gerda Eriksen recalled of her working class youth in the early 1920s. "But," she continued, "the girls also had their chores—running errands, peeling potatoes, setting and cleaning the table, doing the dishes, bringing up coal from the basement. My brothers never had to do any of that. That was women's work."

But if contributing wages and labor to the household continued to be the unquestioned norm, young women's sense of their rights and obligations vis-a-vis the family was nevertheless changing in other ways in the early decades of the twentieth century. When earnings were sufficient, some daughters decided to strike out on their own and live independently in rented rooms, small apartments, or boarding houses, but given their low wages this was a possibility for the very few. More frequently, young working women sought to use their earnings as leverage to negotiate a stronger position within the family. Especially after World War I, when most families were able to place themselves safely beyond the poverty line, the necessity of individual sacrifice for household survival began to fade.

This allowed even working-class daughters to assert their right to new privileges in exchange for their economic contributions, and in the 1920s they did so in increasing numbers. Young women's sense of what they could legitimately demand from their families clearly sprang from their status and experiences as wage earners outside the home. In the labor market, and particularly in jobs other than domestic service, young women learned a rhythm of time and labor that divided daily life into paid work and one's "own" time. This was a rhythm already familiar to most men, whose lives had long been split into realms of work and leisure. Therefore, (male) wage earners were the obvious beneficiaries when Danish government regulations in 1919 limited the work day to eight hours, allowing working men more free time than ever before.

Married women, on the other hand, did not experience a similar shortening of the workday. Whether they worked outside the home or not, housework, child-rearing, cooking, and cleaning were never ending tasks, and unlike their husbands, they had to snatch their few leisured moments in between domestic responsibilities. As working women, daughters were precariously positioned between these different patterns of daily life. Even though they took on wage labor much like their fathers and brothers, young women were simultaneously expected to share the steady burdens of domestic work with their mothers and to devote their nonworking time to household labor.

It was this discrepancy between expectations fostered by labor market participation in the context of increasing standards of living, and the realities of family life that became increasingly intolerable for many young women in the 1910s and 1920s. In their minds, earning a living and bringing home money positioned them on a par with male members of the family, entitling them to at least some of the same prerogatives. Consequently, while they did not resist having to hand over a substantial part of their earnings, they more and more openly resented that their financial contribution did not always earn them what they considered its reasonable counterpart, namely the right to free time. As a result, families with adolescent daughters were plunged into conflicts about the degree of personal autonomy that labor market participation and wages ought to bestow.

Intrafamilial conflicts are often difficult for historians to document, but in this case tensions between parents and children are easily discernible. They surface, for instance, in the immensely popular advice columns of the 1910s and 1920s. Convinced of their right as wage earners to at least some free time and exasperated by their parents' unwillingness to grant them this privilege, some young women turned to advice columnists, hoping for replies that would affirm the legitimacy of their demands.

Among the correspondents was "Betty" who openly questioned her parents' authority. "I work from 8 A.M. to 6 P.M. every day," she explained. "When I come home, I am tired, but I still have to fix dinner and look after my younger sister. In the evenings my parents say I have to do needle-work, but I would rather read or go for a walk. Can they really demand that I stay at home? I am seventeen and a half years old, and I pay my mother Dkr. 8 every week."

Similarly, "a Copenhagen girl" found the relationship between rights and duties in her life unreasonable. "Before I leave in the morning," she complained, "I have to light the fire, make coffee and pack lunches. When I come home, the dishes are still sitting there, and there are errands to be run. Sometimes I want to meet my girlfriend at night, but my parents will almost never let me go. They say there is no reason to 'gad about,' but I don't understand what is wrong with having a little bit of fun at night when you work all day." Other evidence also suggests that many young women openly struggled to obtain the right to leisure and independent activities they thought they deserved.

Personal narratives often reveal both the intensity of such conflicts and the ingenuity of young women bent on getting their way. Emilie Johansen, who grew up in a middle-class family in a suburb of Aarhus recalled, for example, how she and her sister enlisted the help of an older aunt in their conflicts with an authoritarian father. "He was so strict. He would never allow us to have any fun, never allow us to go anywhere. It was hopeless. But then my aunt—I guess she was feeling sorry for us— we talked to her, and she hired us to do some cleaning and stuff. And we would get there and she would say, 'Why don't you girls run off to see a movie?' I don't remember if we ever actually did any work."

Equally resourceful, Copenhagen native Anna Eriksen depended on the backing of an older brother, who, in exchange for small favors, would promise to act as her chaperon outside the home only to vanish as soon as the siblings were out of their parents' sight. In addition to such evidence, numerous magazine articles and newspaper columns from the 1910s and 1920s chronicle the anger and bewilderment of parents who found themselves in constant conflict with their daughters. For mothers, this seemed particularly difficult. Not only did their daughters' desire for a "modern" life seem a rejection of their own norms and values, which in itself was hard to bear, but on top of that, some girls directly flaunted their disrespect of maternal authority, especially if fathers were absent, indulgent, or merely lackadaisical.

"When my daughter is not at the office, she thinks life has to be lived in a cafe, or in other places where people are judged according to their dress and style," "Ninka's mother" wrote to a women's magazine in 1921. "If I tell her to stay home even a few nights a week, she acts as if I've just imposed a life sentence on her." "She doesn't listen to me," another mother complained of her seventeen-year-old daughter. "When I tell her to stay home, she just laughs and says that you are only young once, that this is the twentieth century and not the Middle Ages, and that she is already wasting too much of her youth in a dirty factory. Besides that, she has her own money."

Even more desperate, the mother of one of the much maligned Langelinie girls told a newspaper journalist that she had "begged and pleaded with [her daughter] not to go there, but it doesn't help. I have to go to work, and my neighbor tells me that as soon as I am out the door, she takes off." Using whatever means it took, many young working women who came of age in the late 1910s and 1920s thus pushed for new personal freedoms and especially the right to free time. While some parents never gave in to their pressure, most young women seemed gradually to succeed in carving out of daily life at least some uninterrupted time devoted to relaxation and their own enjoyment.

From the mid-1920s, the frequency of daughters' publicly voiced complaints declined dramatically, and coming-of-age stories no longer featured such conflicts. Apparently, Ernestine P. Poulsen, born in 1902, described a phenomenon that extended beyond her family when she explained that "I fought a lot of battles with my parents [over the right to leisure]. Perhaps I cleared the way because when my [younger] sisters came along, they did not have to do the same. My parents had kind of accepted that girls also needed time of their own."

This did not mean, however, that conflicts between parents and daughters faded. Rather, the grounds of conflict merely shifted. Much resistance to giving young women free time derived from the material conditions of daily life—the practical assistance of grown daughters was still important for the well-being of many working-class households—and from a more general reluctance to give up control over children. But parents' reluctance also stemmed from their misgivings about young women's actual use of their leisure time.

Had daughters simply demanded more time to pursue leisure activities within the home, had they insisted on participating in cooking classes and sewing circles, or had they wanted to attend lectures on hygiene and housewifery, they would probably have been met with more understanding. But these were not the kinds of activities young women longed to engage in, and therefore the question of female leisure remained a contentious issue throughout the postwar decade.

Working-class and middle-class daughters had of course not been entirely without time of their own prior to the 1920s. Nor had they been completely confined to the home. Girls from the countryside had always been allowed to participate in regional fairs, celebrations, and local get-togethers of young people. Urban working-class daughters had long socialized outside the home on staircase landings and front steps, in backyards, and on city streets or in neighborhood parks, and many middle-class daughters belonged to women's clubs and organizations.

What constituted the major departure from convention in the 1910s and 1920s was young women's insistence on their right to "go out," an activity significantly different from the kind of casual socializing that took place outside their parents' windows or in clubs and organizations under adult supervision. "Going out," Regitze Nielsen recalled, "that was when we got dressed up and went somewhere." More specifically, "going out" meant pursuing pleasures that took young women away from home and family, into the public, and, in particular, toward new forms of commercial recreation, including movie theaters, cafes, dance places, and amusement parks. As a social practice, this form of "going out" challenged older norms for female behavior in several ways.

First, it obviously entailed their deliberate desertion from the domestic world, if only momentarily. Second, "going out" meant young women venturing outside familiar neighborhoods and beyond the realm of adult control and surveillance, claiming for themselves the right to an independent, unsupervised social life distinct from familial traditions. Third, as opposed to more traditional forms of leisure for women, "going out" was a strictly peer-oriented activity in which kinship ties had much less significance than freely chosen and carefully cultivated friendships among girls and young women who usually met in school, at work, in clubs and organizations, or in the neighborhood where they lived.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, "going out" meant women's entrance into public spaces traditionally defined as male territory and often imagined as sites of immoral activity where men and women freely mingled, potentially transgressing social and sexual boundaries. Because each of these four aspects seemed to pose a fundamental threat to the social and sexual status quo, intense controversies between parents and children over young women's new leisure activities reverberated throughout the postwar decade. Years after families had conceded to daughters' demands for more time of their own, parents struggled to control or at least influence their use of that time.

By dictating curfews, prohibiting particular activities and specific locations, insisting on being introduced to friends and companions, and demanding the chaperonage of brothers, parents sought not only to protect their daughters against potential dangers but also to maintain at least some authority. Consequently, when young women ventured out into the public sphere, they generally did so under the intense scrutiny of parents who continued to hold some power to revoke their newly won privileges. Thus, even as "going out" gradually became a regular part of young women's lives, treading carefully remained an often perplexing prerequisite.”

- Birgitte Soland, “Good Girls and Bad Girls.” in Becoming Modern: Young Women and the Reconstruction of Womanhood in the 1920s

#1920s #history #danish #birgitte soland #becoming modern

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janaeekook · 4 years

Text

Incapable i. || {myg}

“You cant love Min Yoongi, he doesn’t know how to love. Or care for that matter. You’ll just end up getting hurt.”

pairing: assassin!yoongi x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: - mafia - death - masterbation -

series masterlist

prologue.

It was your 16th birthday when your father and your older brother Namjoon told you everything — their affiliation and leading of the largest mafia gang in Seoul. You always knew your family was wealthy, that's what you were raised knowing. But you never knew that for your family to obtain it's wealth, the two most important men in your life would go out and risk their lives every night in criminal activities.

You hadn't believed them at first, thinking it was just some prank, a wild joke. The idea of them having a gang made your stomach twist in knots. You had always been your fathers little girl, you saw him as your knight and shinning armor, slaying the dragons of your bad dreams.

Since that day you received vigorous training. Intelligence gathering, undercover and stealth missions, trades; organized crime soon became your life. You were endowed to it, you saw a lot of horrible things, things that never sat right with you, but it all became a twisted new normal to you. The only jobs you refused are to take someone’s life, for you fear your soul may never recover.

When you were eighteen, your father had decided to retire. Leaving the legacy of Bangtan Sonyeondan to your brother. Many of the older members went with your father leaving it fully in the hands of the youth they'd spent years training.

Now you're 21, and head of intelligence. After your father left, you and your brother purchased a new estate in the countryside which served as base camp. The extravagant building was large enough to be considered a castle with its different wings. The west wing was for the higher ups, there was 8 of you in total and you all kept business booming with your varying talents.

Namjoon was very clearly the leader, the true business man, he handled transactions and bigger things along with interigation.

Kim Seokjin, or Jin— was your brothers right hand and the more ruthless of the two, he hated conflict between members and he also specialized in interigation.

Min Yoongi; a cold assassin who never really said much just got the job done without fail, it's quick and painless, he said the screams annoy him.

Jung Hoseok, he deals mainly with illegal substance transactions. He's a sadist in his work, something you'd never guess.

Kim Taehyung, the brains; he is the eyes and ears of every operation and he's just a plain genius when it comes to the plans. He's usually the one to stay at the base camp watching monitors that display cameras he's hacked.

Jimin works along side you in intelligence. He's a complete flirt. He specializes is hand to hand, He may look small but he could take you down in a second.

Jungkook is your arms man, he handles all the weapons, he loves his guns and he's an incredible shot, he never misses a target.

Lastly there's you, head of intelligence, gathering information on enemies, often working close with Jimin. You're also an amazing shot and can be found sniping with Jungkook and Yoongi.

The east wing, on the other hand, housed many of your henchmen; the army. They were not to be trifled with, They were trained to kill. They are the most loyal followers, that's why Bangtan is on top, some even said if they died protecting the 8 they would have fulfilled their duties. They were willing to die for you and the others.

Loyalty is very important, it's drilled into their heads from the first day of training to their last breath. They all take an oath of trust and they devote their lives to Bangtan. Once an army, always an army.

•

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Taehyungs voice came through your earpiece.

"Ya." You spoke quietly as you sat at a booth in a stuffy little downtown bar.

"Ok, he's the one at the bar wearing the red suit, you should make your move now." You nodded and stood from the booth, making your way to the bar and next to the crimson clothed man.

"One Jack Daniels please." The bar tender nodded, you sat on the stool next to the man. You could feel his eyes raking your body.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone?" His voice was thick with a Russian accent.

"My boyfriend dumped me." The bar tender slid you the drink and you took a large sip. The man continued to ogle you in wonder. He was not an attractive man, he resembled a drowned rat with his hair all greased back.

"He's quite unwise to leave such a beautiful woman." You looked to his face, scanning it before bringing a fake smile to your lips.

"You think I'm beautiful?" You asked feigning shock.

"Incredibly." His hand moved to your knee, his rat-like face forming the most unpleasant smirk. You took another sip of the strong whiskey before looking back into his beady eyes.

"Hmm." You bit you lip, which came off sexual but you were really trying not to gag, "What do you say we get out of here?" You stood from the stool, grabbing his hand. He pulled money from his pocket and placed it on the counter before standing.

You led him through the chorus of drunk people dancing, weaving your way to the door where Jin waited on the other side. They were hidden from view as you stepped into the cold night air with the rat man following close behind you. The way his eyes wandered your body, mentally undressing you, made you feel uncomfortable.

"I can't wait to see this body." He spoke lowly, placing a calloused hand on your hip. You grabbed the hand before twisting it behind his back and pushing him to the ground, you held one hand behind his back and the other you held to the concrete with your knee.

"What the fuck!?" He groaned, struggling in your grasp.

Hallow footsteps clicked along the pavement as Jin walked up, a cigarette between his the nimble fingers of his right hand, his other hand grasped a black cane that had a gold skull on top. He had injured his leg on a mission a few years ago and it never healed the same, but the cane made him all the more intimidating.

"W-what do you want?" The Russian man inquired from his position on the ground as he looked up to Jin who had placed the end of his cane to his throat.

"I want you to tell me what your boss is planning, and why you're in Seoul." Jin spoke calmly but the intensity and seriousness of his voice would make anyone cower in fear.

"I-I" He stuttered then Jin pushed his cane harder onto the mans throat and You tightened your hold, "Ok! Ok— we're working with another gang." Jins eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"I-I don't know h-he wouldn't tell us! I'll do anything to prove it to you, I'll work as a spy!" The man crumbled after only seconds of Jins cold stare, the chuckle that bubbled from his throat was just as cold.

"You see, trust and loyalty is very important to me, and you crumbled under the slightest pressure. I hate men like you, cowardly, weak, you could never be one of us." Jin then walked away, you quickly stood and followed after Jin, the rat man scrambled to his feet.

"You whore! You played me! You're already someone's dirty bitch!" The man spoke to you and you just smiled viciously at him.

"It's just part of the game sweetheart." You turned walking away to the car with Jin.

"You're not even worth my time you tramp!" He called out, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yoongi." you heard him hum through your earpiece and a deafening shot rang out, the cold lifeless sound of body meeting pavement, and then silence.

•

The car pulled up in-front of the mansion. You exited the car followed by Jin and ascended the steps to the front doors, the guards on either side bowed to us.

Pushing the door open, you went inside, kicking off your heels instantly. The 4 others sat in the foyer to your left, discussing plans.

"I'm gonna change." You told Jin quickly heading up the left staircase and to your bedroom. You pealed the dress from your body, before tugging your sweatpants on and a long sleeve shirt. Hair tied back in a bun, you headed back out and down to the others.

You plopped down next to Jungkook, he looked to you and smiled, that smile of his never seemed to match his aura, or the array of tattoo's that covered his golden skin. Everyone began talking about random stuff and the mission. The muffled sound of a motorcycle outside told you all that Yoongi had arrived.

When the door opened and he appeared in everyone's view his face visually upset, but You could never really tell. He wore all black and held a full face helmet in his hand, a scar ran over his right brow and extended to his cheek. Your stomach fluttered when his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. Your relationship toward Yoongi had always been strictly business, though your attraction to him grew, he was painfully attractive.

"Thanks for leaving the body to me." He spoke sourly his gaze directed towards Jin. He sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, his cane leaned on the couch next to him. Jin only chuckled at the younger man.

"It's your job." Jin held a fake smile upon his face, he stood using his good leg before grabbing his cane.

"Sure pin it on me." Yoongi spoke, Jins intimidating smile stayed on his face as he stepped closer to the other boy.

"I know you're not trying to start anything right Yoongi? You know how much I hate it."

He scoffed, "Whatever." He turned and headed up the stairs. Jin just sighed and went back to his original seat. Your eyes followed Yoongi as he disappeared up the stairs, You wanted to follow him but you knew he'd just shut you out.

You laid in bed that night, unable to dodge the thoughts of him. You groaned rolling onto your side and tried to lull yourself to sleep, it was no use your body longed for his hands all over you -- but your mind told you it wouldn't be wise to try to love someone who was so emotionally absent. But was he really?

Your mind and body were deeply contrasting one another, the allure he had; both nothing and something. It called you forth to let him break you, but your morals pulled you back as the dark aura also pushed you away. You chewed at your cheek as your mind was running rampant. Your imagination beginning to take hold the scenarios swirling through your headspace, bringing you into a daydream like state as your mind played out what your mind had thought of sending your cheeks ablaze.

"What do you want me to do princess?" It was Yoongi, he had your daydream self pinned between himself and a wall.

"Touch me." Your voice a pitiful whine as you begged for his hands, he smirked sensing how needy you were, and it was all his doing. Well dream Yoongi of course.

"Where?" He asked, your words failed to exist in your mouth so you grabbed his veiny hand, guiding the strong appendage between your legs. You hadn't realized you were fully naked in this scenario, but you didn't care as his hand began to explore you, treating you like some toy.

Your eyes shot open, not being able to face the crude scene any longer, Your room felt as if it were on fire, your clothes becoming unbearable as they stuck to your skin. Your mind had somehow found its way to the side of your body, running a mile-a-minute with thoughts of Yoongi and different ways his hands could pleasure you. Your face was bright red, You were thinking of extremely sexual situations about someone who probably saw your relationship as otherwise platonic. You groaned, feeling your core throb as more thoughts invaded your mind. You had grown incredibly hot and bothered you couldn't take it, you went to the bathroom starting a shower in hopes to cool down your bodies rising temperature.

The water ran down your body, as you stood under the steady streams unmoving. You shook your head, rubbing your hands over your face, as your mind wandered to the idea of him fucking you against the shower wall. You felt dizzy as you grew more aroused as you thought of the man only doors down from you. You groaned before taking in a shaky breath, you brought your hand to yourself, eyes fluttering shut as you finally did what your body begged for.

It was slow at first as you rubbed small circles over that familiar bundle of nerves, your mind wandering back to the idea of him fucking you senseless in the shower. You bit your lip before pressing your back against the cool tile, lifting your leg to rest it on the shower bench next to you, allowing your hands perfect access to every sensitive part of you. You pushed a finger past your entrance, quickly accompanying it with another. You imagined it was him, his experienced hands touching you, getting you off.

Your small noises concealed by the water hitting the shower floor, you quietly moaned his name as you silently wished it was his cock inside you. Your legs began shaking as you drew closer to your orgasm, you threw your head back in pure bliss the tension finally unraveling in your stomach-- and it was Yoongi's name on your lips, the last word you spoke as you rode out your high.

You quickly cleaned your now relieved body and your sweat ridden hair, before finally exiting the shower. You collapsed on your bed, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, relief and satisfaction running through your veins.

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crapitskizaru · 3 years

Text

For Everything. (X Drake x Hawkins)

Summary: Drake cannot bear with the past mistakes catching up to him anymore. He receives a Tarot reading from his one and only friend among the Beast Pirates.

Warning: Wano setting so possible spoilers. And after catching up with most of the anime...I just had to do this.

The small room was shrouded in darkness. Only a single source of light remained - the man observed as the trail of smoke curled upwards from the candle.

He was scared. The cold fear crawled underneath his skin and confused his senses. He tried to reach back into his past, to remember what led him to this miserable point. Not many memories were left to conjure up in order to answer the persisting questions.

A quiet voice in his head kept reminding him that the end draws near, that death lurks even in the shadowed corners of his room, waiting to pounce and take his life.

The man didn’t want to die just yet. Not one person would remember him fondly if he did - he needed more time to fix his mistakes. The main issue was, however, that for a single mistake in the past he had to spend years in the present, desperately trying to turn it all around.

His eyes landed on the open journal on his desk. If he died now… There was a chance someone might find his notes and read about the crimes and sins he regretted more than anything in the world. He could try to persuade his own self that he was used, manipulated, forced to kill. But it certainly didn’t persuade his aching heart.

Should he tell him? Tell him everything? But what if he turns on him, and Drake will be left with enemies on both sides of the conflict? That would serve no one.

He swiftly got up and started pacing across the room. The most disturbing thought was the one that kept telling him there was no right thing to do. Both the Marines and the forces of the Emperor were committing to the wrong ideas, their hatred for each other only adding fuel to the fire of the looming war.

How could everyone be so short-sighted? Serving vicious men in power with only their own interests in mind. But then again, Drake shouldn’t be the one to judge. Everyone else must have had their reasons to do it, just like he did.

His cover will be blown, sooner or later. And then he will be left on the utter mercy of the Beast Pirates, no longer of any use to the Marines.

Drake closed the journal. He had to tell him. There was no other choice. Like an enslaved animal in a cage, no matter which side he turned to, there was always the cold steel of bars in front of him. And so his heart led him to the only path left to take - towards one sole friend; a friend he was going to lose at the end of that same night.

Gripping the journal, he left his room. No explanation or reasoning came to his mind, but he kept going. If he stopped now, he knew he wouldn’t find the strength to try it again - and so, he kept going.

Already, the shadows of the night seeped through the windows of the corridor. The Land of Wano had rarely been at peace, but at that moment it seemed like the whole world was calm, preparing for slumber.

Drake stood before the door, wondering where to start the conversation. Should he confess everything right away? Or paint a whole picture first? He figured that a start with a knock on the door should be the best option.

Before he raised his hand, the door opened.

“How long are you going to stand here for?” Hawkins asked. “I almost started placing bets with myself. So far, it’s been at least five minutes.”

“You’ve seen me in your cards?”

“No. Your shadow was visible from under the door.”

“Oh.”

Drake sent him a quick glance. The flowing hair he never got to touch, the piercing eyes, the regal expression on his face - merely looking at him was becoming painful.

He tightened his grip on the journal. With all the sweat he was producing, it was more than possible that all of the ink will get washed away soon.

“Drake? Can I help you?”

“Hm? Oh right. Yes. Yes, you can. Please.”

Hawkins bowed his head. “Very well then. Come in.”

You will hate me before this night ends, Drake thought, entering the cabin.

It was a lot brighter than his own, he had to admit that. At least two dozen candles were lit, placed on every possible surface - the floor, the chest of drawers, the windowsill, and the huge desk in the middle of the room, covered with piles of documents. Drake wondered how it was possible that they still hadn’t caught on fire.

It felt cozy and comfortable, at least in comparison to his own dark, lifeless, austere excuse for a cabin.

“I’m guessing you want to know what the cards say.” Hawkins sat behind the desk and gestured for Drake to take the chair across him. “Took you long enough to finally ask. It’s not like I charge for it, you know that.”

“Actually, I’m here for something else-”

“Sit down.”

Drake sat down. Annoying his friend needlessly before he even starts to confess would only make this harder. With a sigh, Drake slid his journal across the desk, unable to look Hawkins in the eye.

“What’s this?”

“A matter I came to you with. It’s…I figured it’d be easier for me to write it all, rather than say it out loud.”

“First, the cards.”

“But-”

“Draw three. Left hand.”

Drake sighed again and drew three cards from the deck. The very same deck that he’d seen in use so many times - when Hawkins used his power, the cards glowed in creepy blue and usually meant bad news for either the enemy or Hawkins himself. Drake wasn’t very fond of that deck of cards.

“The Hierophant. Reversed. The Hanged Man. And the Knight of Pentacles.”

“You don’t seem happy with that.”

“I’m rarely happy,” Hawkins murmured, frowning. “You carry a lot of guilt and shame. Your actions don’t correspond with your values, which causes you to be at constant war with yourself.”

An awkward silence took over.

“Is that it?” Drake asked after a while.

“No. The Hanged Man means you’re stuck in a situation you desperately want to get out of. Think of it as being locked in a cell. In order to escape this stagnancy, you either have to make a firm decision or try to make peace with yourself. Let the events unfold, and maybe the cell door will open unassisted.”

“So you’re saying… When I’m locked in prison, I should just wait long enough and the lock will unlatch.”

Hawkins sent him a tired stare. “No, that’s not it. I’m saying if you try to calm your inner conflicts or attempt to solve some of them, your path will appear on its own.”

“What if I’m unable to do that?”

“This card right here-,” Hawkins continued without an answer, patting a card with a depiction of a knight on a black horse. “- could mean your difficulty in expressing emotions. One of the reasons for that might be a problematic relationship with your father figure.” A short silence followed that statement. “The card also paints you as a reliable, patient, and loyal man. I don’t know about the loyal part…”

Drake felt the tips of his ears catch on fire - the heatwaves suddenly erupting throughout his whole body made him consider taking off his leather jacket, but he discarded that idea at once.

“…since you’re a former Rear Admiral turned pirate, but I’d say the rest is accurate.” Hawkins looked him in the eye. “You are reliable. You don’t back away when a fight turns out to be inevitable. I know I can count on you.”

It was at that exact moment when Drake started regretting his choice at confessing. How could he admit treason to his one and only friend? Under his heavy stare, Drake felt worse than he had for a long time.

“I think you overestimate me,” he whispered.

“I think you underestimate yourself, Drake. And downgrade your morals.”

Drake shifted uncontrollably in his seat, making it screech. “You don’t know a thing about my morals.”

Hawkins smirked and quickly shuffled the cards. “Draw one. Right hand.”

“Listen, I didn’t come here for a lecture.” Drake stood up with haste, suddenly filled with determination. “I don’t fully…grasp the idea behind those cards, or the power you actually have over them. But I’m almost sure those pieces of paper can’t help me. At this point, I have no idea what can. I will be going now. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He reached for the journal, but Hawkins grabbed it first. His red eyes were calm but cold; tiny candle flames reflected in them, giving him an unearthly look.

“You seek help. You came to me, and since cards are my biggest asset, I’m doing my best to guide you. But it won’t bear any results without cooperation from your side.”

Drake’s hands gripped the back of the chair, knuckles turning white from strain. The man locked his eyes on one of the candles until his vision blurred, and the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding released slowly.

“I’m not judging you, Drake. I would be a fool and a hypocrite if I did. We all make terrible mistakes. Let me help you fix yours. Now, in the present,” Hawkins paused. “Draw a card.”

He couldn’t back out now. He couldn’t lie to his friend anymore, not after what he’d just heard. This was the only way. Drake drew a card from the very top of the deck. Immediately after his touch, it started glowing in blue.

Claiming back his previous seat, Drake stared at his colleague, trying to imprint his majestic features in his mind. After all, he wasn’t sure whether he’ll see those flowing hair ever again. Or that tattooed cross on his neck. He had always been fond of it.

The blue glimmer accentuated the sharp lines of his face, now furrowed in silent focus.

“I’ll be honest, you’re starting to freak me out a bit,” Drake said.

“You drew The Lovers. Reversed.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Hawkins lifted his gaze and started absent-mindedly fiddling with one of the flames. His fingers caressed them as if they radiated no heat, and then, with one swift movement, he extinguished the light.

Drake watched a smudge of smoke travel all the way towards the ceiling.

“You need to accept that your present is the result of the choices that you’ve made a long time ago. Embrace your past. Only then you will be able to move forward.” Hawkins paused as if considering whether he should continue or not. “It’s also a rather strong indicator of you harboring feelings for your colleague. What’s most likely to be stopping you from engaging is fear. But don’t worry-”

Drake raised an eyebrow. Who in their right mind wouldn’t worry after all this information?

“- it’s not an unrequited love.”

Silence veiled the room once more, but Drake had no interest in disturbing it. Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what to say.

Eventually, after most of the flames had died down and the wax stiffened on the candles, he stirred. He almost forgot about the true reason he came there in the first place - it was high time to get it over with.

“You may count on me during our battles, but I know you don’t fully trust me. It could be your cards hinting or solely your intuition…I want you to know you’re right for being wary of me. I came here to confess. And to apologize, if you’ll allow it. Everything is in the journal.”

Hawkins crossed his hands on his chest, leaning back.

“Everything? You wrote down your mistakes, both past and present?”

“Yes. My current…” Drake wavered, then gathered his composure. “- situation as well. It will most likely come to light anyway, but I’d rather confess it myself.”

“Good,” Hawkins replied nonchalantly, lifting up the journal. “I need you to watch closely now.”

So Drake watched. First, the man weighted the notebook in his hand, as if measuring its worth. And then he directed it over one of the flames, causing it to crackle and catch on fire.

“Wait, what are you doing? I want you to read it all. I need you to know.” Drake sat up straight, grasping the edge of the desk. “I can’t lie to you.”

“Then don’t,” Hawkins muttered, fascinated with the bright flame engulfing the papers in his hold. When it almost reached his fingers, he threw it on the desk. “Start again with me.”

The fire slowly turned the white pages dark and withered. As only ashes remained, Drake lifted his gaze.

“The desk could have caught on fire as well, did you take that into consideration?”

“I’m sure you would have come up with something.”

Drake wasn’t sure what to say. A simple ‘thank you’ wouldn’t suffice in this case. So instead, he reached out across the desk and touched Hawkins’ fingers with the tips of his own in silent gratitude. For everything.

#x drake #basil hawkins #xoxobb #one piece #the wano arc #one piece spoilers #op spoilers #one piece scenario #tarot reading #diez drake #x drake x hawkins #dino content

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flystrue · 4 years

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⌠ aubrey joseph. cismale. he/him. ⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only eugene lane. though, around here they’re known as the obsequious. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the twenty two year old mechanic kinda has a reputation of being self - critical and acquiescent. but y’know, they can be magnanimous and conscientious too. typical aries. anyways, welcome home and stay safe gene ! ❞

let’s rock & roll buckerOOS here is a v long intro bc i got rlly ! excited ! abt this rp ! i’m nae ( twenty , she /her , acst / from good ol’ australia ! ) and i’ll be playing eugene lane , whom you can learn more abt below !

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬.

full name : eugene anthony lane .

nickname / alias : gene .

age : twenty two .

gender / pronouns : cismale , he / him .

sexual / romantic orientation : bisexual / biromantic .

hometown : born & raised in misty hollow , connecticut , babey !

occupation : mechanic .

could be compared to : grizz visser from the society , monty green from the 100 , rio from money heist .

𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲.

eugene lane : you’re born in a run - down trailer , broken blinds & shattered kitchenware . born to two parents , one of which is nothing but an absent shadow in your life , and another who carries an edge like knives ━ you’re born on the wrong side of the tracks , but you’re not born there alone . you’re sister is born several minutes before you , and she will stand steadfast by your side throughout every up and down , she will always be there to be your pillar of strength , and that is more than enough love to survive on ━ you are brought up rough , and not just in that busted up trailer park : you blend into the back of classrooms to avoid all the sneers & pestering , but teachers see you , they remember who you are . they say you’ve got a decent brain in that head of yours , something valuable , something to be harnessed into greatness . they say all your opportunities are waiting for you just around the bend ━ it’s a nice dream , although you fail to see your own potential . for now , you have your gadgets & odd science experiments , selling exam answers & reports to students under the bleachers promising A’s , and that’s enough .

the household is a tense one , and your mom & sister fight A LOT : your mom is intolerable and cruel , and your sister is a spitfire that is easily ignited & not easily extinguished ━ you do your best to keep out of your mother’s vengeful path , even if it means looking away when your sister needs you most , even if it means cowering . you are not a fighter , you do not raise your fists or your tone : you prefer the road less bound for conflict , to speak softer & use gentler palms . your father , when he’s around , has said this is weakness : too passive , too eager , but gene can’t see a fault in being kinder than most .

highschool graduation is a sigh of relief , no longer hassled & tormented by peers that you tried and tried to gain respect from . BUT NOW WHAT ? you are at the very bottom of the food - chain , and you have been brought up with nothing but the tendency to only see your faults ━ somehow , you’re offered apprenticeship at a local automobile mechanic in exchange for free labor ━ not ideal when you’re seeking to pull your own weight in that new apartment with your sister that neither can really afford . but you make it work , you take up odd jobs wherever you can find them : drip ‘n dry laundromat , the hollow diner , even your very own from home computer repair business that never really takes off , but it pulls enough to get by until you can navigate your way under a hood , enough to say : THIS IS ALL ME , eugene lane did this ! and that is enough .

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 & 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

first and foremost .... he Baby ..... GOD he really does have a big heart !!!! cares abt people a HECK ton !!! everything he does is for his sister + those he loves / befriends !!!

v self critical of himself tho like ... he’s constantly doubting himself and his ability's even though !!!! he’s v smart !!! if u ever need help with anything techy , he’s ur man !

loves his job ... sm ... he fuckin LOVES tinkering with stuff . although he’s really only been an official automobile mechanic for abt a year or so ?? will flip out over cars tho .. he’ll ramble ALL DAY abt his opinions on different manufacturers .

he gives off grandpa vibes ... he hardly curses & he’s in bed by 9 ... yes he watches soap operas in his spare time , and what abt it .

will Never snap back at anyone EVER . he will 100 % always back down from confrontation . the only time he has ever stepped ! tf ! up ! was when he was in his late teens & he ... lost oop . he got rlly badly injured ( permanent hearing loss in his right ear . )

strangely tho ?? he is weirdly CALM abt all this murder stuff . he’ll be like ‘ yeah that’s kinda Freaky , huh ’ but then 5 mins later he’ll be out Walkin’ down dark alley’s or taking in hitch - hikers : /

but he’s also this vine when it comes to anything Creepy

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 .

gonna get my homies mood rings so i know when they need a hug : bad boys bad boys .. . whatcha gonna’ do .. . whatcha gonna do when they come 4 u .... i want a BROTP for him !! YESTERDAY !! bonus points if it’s like a dumb boy band squa d

u was my fuckin’ cinnamon apple : ok i’m kinda’ picturing that .... on / off type relationship ?? they are constantly a are they / aren’t they situation bc one second they’re all over each other and the next they refuse 2 speak to each other .

a strictly platonic gal pal : just a gal that he is genuinely friends with ?? not to get my nerdy pants on but ..... hermione granger / harry potter type deal ?? pls he needs it ... I NEED IT

break his heart i dare u : he’s such a sentimentalist that he grows attached to ppl v quickly so mayb it was first just a fling ?? or mayb a highschool crush gone wrong ?? maybe he’s CURRENTLY crushing on them and they’re gonna’ try and let him down easy BUT

a GIRLFRIEND / BOYFRIEND ?? : just gonna throw it out there ... bc who knows ! he’d be a good boyfriend ... he would open doors 4 u & giv u ..... all his undevoted love and undivided attention ALWAYS .

a bad influence : gene is a goody goody , so this person would probably be pushin him outside his comfort zone ?? ━ maybe they’ve manipulated him in a way ?? got him to do their bidding ?? or mayb he’s just followin them around & tryin’ to keep up w / their shenanigans ??

let’s tell each other secrets , ill go first ... i Hat e u : kinda picturing someone he clashed with in highschool ?? but mayb even someone who just gives him a hard time OR MAYB the person he fought with that last tim e ??

and literally anything else !! pls plot with me ... i lo v e u

#misty.intro #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i only Proof Read this ... once instead of my usual 342 times so we ... so we aint gonna' talk abt it dsffgjk #also tags pl S WORK i Beg

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kemifatoba · 4 years

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Document Journal | Dennis Rodman was Black boy joy before it was acceptable

In 2020, we're all unconsciously dressing like the intrepid, queer-friendly, cross-dressing NBA star...

Like many others, I watched the “The Last Dance”, a Netflix documentary about Michael Jordan and the legendary Chicago Bulls in the ‘90s. Back then, I wasn’t into sports—but I loved Dennis Rodman. A poster of his 1996 autobiography Bad As I Wanna Be hung in my bedroom, and simply looking at this Black superstar athlete—covered in tattoos, with stacked piercings and fluorescent hair, sitting naked on a motorbike—filled me with joy. He looked at the camera and seemed incredibly comfortable with himself, liberated even.

While Michael Jordan was the undeniable superstar of the NBA, it was Dennis Rodman who I always rooted for. I was a young biracial girl who desperately tried to blend into my white surroundings, hoping that conforming to respectability politics would make my life a little easier. Back then, I studied dance at the Vienna Conservatory, and was expected to follow a set of spoken and unspoken rules that dictated how I had to behave both on and off stage. I found these rules to be extremely restrictive and quickly came to the conclusion that professionalism and self-expression were two opposite things that could not be reconciled—and then there was Dennis Rodman, who seemingly didn’t care about any rules. He was an excellent player and did whatever he wanted to do off the court. This level of nonchalance fascinated me and I enjoyed following the news to find out what he was up to next. It certainly never got boring.

“He epitomized Black boy joy decades before it was celebrated as the antidote to toxic Black masculinity.”

During his time at the Chicago Bulls, Dennis Rodman turned himself into a walking performance piece. He epitomized Black boy joy decades before it was celebrated as the antidote to toxic Black masculinity. He made himself vulnerable by talking about his shortcomings, and often burst into tears during interviews—and people loved him for it. But the media also ridiculed and criticized him for his off-court antics, which were deemed unprofessional and disrespectful to the game. While there were many colorful personalities in the music industry back then, such as Michael Jackson, Marilyn Manson, and Courtney Love, it was still highly unusual to see anyone like Dennis Rodman in the world of men’s professional sports. He was unusual, full stop.

Sartorially, Dennis Rodman wasn’t just different, he was way ahead of his time. This fact was cemented in a viral tweet by @cowboybagel who posted a screenshot of Rodman on The Late Show With David Letterman in 1996. He appeared on stage in a sheer, semi-buttoned-up black blouse, black flared lace pants, and his trademark Oakley wraparound sunglasses. His hair was dyed green, and his nails were painted black. He wore a Cuban link chain and two pendants around his neck, two large silver earrings on the left and another one on the right, and his trademark nose rings. “Everyone in 2019 looks like dennis rodman in 1996,” the caption said, and an army of Rodman lookalikes shared selfies to confirm the statement. In a recent conversation with a friend who is a stylist, she declared that seeing Dennis Rodman in The Last Dance gave her fashion inspiration for days. What was considered weird, back then, seems to be perfectly on point today.

everyone in 2019 looks like dennis rodman in 1996 pic.twitter.com/4rMSvH1XDs

— ACAB (@cowboybagel) September 5, 2019

Dennis Rodman was extra. He played into stereotypes and subverted them at the same time. He challenged the confines of masculinity and turned heads in the NBA. He talked about wanting to have sex with men while dating Madonna, Carmen Electra, Vivica A. Fox, and many more women according to his account. In the late ‘90s, neither mental health nor queerness were discussed in sports. Rodman brought those topics to the forefront, though not always in a way that everyone appreciated. He frequented gay clubs and often expressed his solidarity with the LGBT community, most notably at the 1995 playoffs, where he sprayed a red ribbon in his hair to draw attention to AIDS. The move was criticized for using a symbol of disease—instead of a symbol of gay pride, like the triangle or the rainbow—for shock value. His penchant for cross-dressing, which culminated in a media frenzy when he wore a wedding dress at his book launch, also raised questions about the authenticity of his solidarity with the LGBT community. His delivery might have been off, but I always respected Dennis Rodman for speaking up for the gay community at a time when societal prejudice was rife. He didn’t have to use his platform to talk about his sexuality, but he chose to do it, and many LGBT organizations reached out to thank him for representing them in the sports world as a result.

In Bad As I Wanna Be, Rodman addressed a widely-publicized suicide attempt before his time at the Chicago Bulls. He wrote that instead of wanting to harm himself, he “Killed the Dennis Rodman that had tried to conform to what everybody wanted him to be.” The entire world knew about his excessive drinking and partying, and now it also knew about his depression. In the 2019 ESPN documentary Rodman: For better or Worse, he laid everything bare: his complicated relationship with a mother who never showed him love, his absent father, his shyness and naiveté, a period of homelessness, conflicts with the law, the sudden growth spurt that garnered the attention of NBA scouts, his rise to superstardom in the ‘90s, his battle with depression and alcoholism, and where he is now at 59 and a grandfather.

To me, Dennis Rodman was so many things at once: flawed, relatable, and lovable even as he seemed to struggle with loving himself. He was a legendary basketball player, an incredible entertainer, and an accidental hero who kicked the doors open and brought uncomfortable conversation topics to the table. Watching him break out in tears, when he admits that he struggles with being a good father to his children, is saddening and infuriating at the same time, because he risks repeating the same mistakes his parents made—and also because I’m still rooting for him. Dennis Rodman was and still is unique. He practiced self-expression, vulnerability, and nonconformity like nobody else did in the ‘90s, and like only a few men do today, let alone Black superstar athletes.

I was too young to understand a lot of things back when I had a poster of Dennis Rodman in my bedroom, but looking at professional sports today, and the perfectly curated image athletes present to the world, Dennis Rodman still stands out like a colorful butterfly. He was a viral sensation long before the term was coined, and he paved the way for those who unapologetically express their personality and identity today. To this day, watching Dennis Rodman doing his thing reminds me how beautiful self-expression is, and how much joy it can bring others—or, as he summed up his approach to life in a 1997 interview with USA Today, “I just took the chance to be my own man. I just said, ‘If you don’t like it, kiss my ass’ … I’m the guy who’s showing people, ‘Hey, it’s alright to be different.'”

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#editorial #document journal

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grumpyhedgehogs · 5 years

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The Judgement of Petals

Summary: The Judge leaves flowers for various citizens of Hope County. Secrets are brought to light.

Part 2: Here Part 3: Here

Notes:

I just love that the Judge will go pick flowers if your player is idle long enough. My sweet summer child.

One important thing about this fic is that I went with the headcanon that nobody actually knows for sure that it’s Dep behind the mask, but some people have suspicions. Because you can’t tell me that Grace and Sharky and the Ryes wouldn’t go in guns blazing to get Dep back.

Also: SPOILERS! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED THE GAME. (Also, I just kinda handpicked the parts of all the endings that I felt went with the story. Ah, the powers of fic writing.)

@sadyeehawmp3 asked me to tag them, so here you go! Hope you enjoy and angst and fluff!

“They speak only one language- that of violence.”

The Father

After it was all over- the twins dead, Hope County saved, the Father neutralized- after everything, the Captain wasn’t surprised to find the Judge had simply disappeared into thin air. They had knelt next to Joseph for a long time at the end; Captain could hear their sobs but couldn’t tell whether they were of sorrow or relief- but they did speak of some unknowable grief. Captain had turned away, paced a few yards, and left them to it. They deserved to collect their thoughts, if only for a moment.

When the Captain turned back, arm already up to gesture that they could both return to Hope County, that they were both free from whatever hell they had fallen into, the Judge was gone. In their wake, they had left three small purple flowers. They were cut too early, barely blooming, and speckled with dirt and ash. They looked bedraggled and flattened, as if the Judge had smothered them into their coat for safekeeping- which they probably did.

The Captain recognized them as petunias.

They were left there, to rot or to burn with the body of the Father. The Captain had a vague hope that the wind would carry the petals away before the flames reached them.

Jerome

It had been three or four weeks since the end of the conflict, and to Jerome it seemed as if he was even busier than before the war with the Highwaymen ended. He was needed from one end of the county to another, day in and day out, working to help refugees, go on supply runs, shore up defenses, provide faith and council to the hopeless- whatever the people needed, Jerome was determined to provide.

But he was hesitant more so now than ever to call these people his flock. He’d been burned one too many times he supposed. It never helped to get too attached to many in a place such as their world.

These thoughts, these anxieties-what if something else happens? One thing after another, who’s to say there won’t come someone else- someone worse that Joseph Seed and the Twins put together, we never catch a break do we- combined with the storm brewing that night had him wide awake. He sat quietly watching the rain lash at the muddied yard beyond his porch. There was a fire dying in the grate behind him- he could hear the fading crackles of the last bits of wood. Soon it would just be embers.

He must have been more tired than he realized- maybe the rain or the dying fire had lulled him into a doze, maybe he had been sleepwalking and had only dreamed that he had gotten up, maybe this was still a dream- he couldn't settle on a believable explanation for not seeing who left the bouquet on the top step of his porch.

Jerome jolted in his seat, heart pounding hard enough to break his ribs. The rain had gotten even worse now, mixing with the dark to make a gloom that was impenetrable. There was no way he could catch whoever had done it.

He approached cautiously, thoughts of Faith Seed flickering behind his eyes, but none of the blossoms on the worn wooden floorboards looked a thing like the Bliss.

The bouquet was obviously made by an amateur; the blooms weren’t full- some of them were too young or too old, there were torn petals and browning edges, most of the flowers looked like they’d been drowned in all the rain, and pollen blurted out onto the toe of his boot when he went to nudge them. It was all held together with a rough piece of twine, threaded with another unknown purple flower.

Jerome bent closer, hand on his holster, afraid to inhale in case he did in fact have another Faith on his hands. But he recognized irises when he saw them. Bluebells -the low hanging flowers missing a few blossoms, as if they were pulled off the stem hastily- were there too.

It wasn’t until he showed Nana the bouquet later the next (same? Jerome really needed to catch up on his sleep) morning that he found out the two flowers he didn’t know were called bittersweet and magnolias. The one in the twine was verbana.

“What does it mean?” He asked her, rubbing the back of his scalp irritably. He was unused to feeling flustered by plants.

“Means someone out there thinks very highly of you son,” Nana quipped flippantly. “Magnolia and bittersweet, those are nobility and truth, respectively, ya see, and bluebells are humility. Verbana’s a strange inclusion though- usually means ‘pray for me.’ Guess they know you’re a pastor. But the iris, now that’s the interesting one.”

“It is? Why?”

She tipped her head back, blew out a big breath and pushed her glasses up her sweaty nose. The storm had blown away in the early hours and now Jerome could already feel a sunburn starting across the tops of his shoulders. “Means a couple a things, depending on who gives em- faith, hope, those are probably the meanings this one’s going for. Wisdom and valor, too, I suppose. If somebody you know gave ‘em to you they can mean that your friendship means a lot too. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Nobody,” Jerome hastened to answer. He shook his head in bewilderment, staring at the wilting flowers in his palm. Something deep in his gut flickered with warmth. There was a nagging at the back of his mind. “I didn’t see who left it.”

“Hm,” Nana rejoined. She shrugged. “Captain said the Judge left flowers for the Father at the end. Petunias.”

“You think the Judge is giving out bouquets?” Jerome couldn’t really wrap his head around such an imposing figure slogging through the storm in the middle of the night to give him flowers. But there were rumors…

Nick had said that when he saw their eyes there was something familiar-

“You see anybody else picking flowers these days?” She had a point there. “Besides, if it is the Judge, they think a hell of a lot more of you than the Father.”

“Wh- that’s not true. They loved the Father. They followed him everywhere. Captain said they grieved when he died.”

Nana’s glare was so sharp and hot he had to drop his eyes. “They cried all right- lots of reasons for people to cry, and not any of them very good these days. But the flowers say something different about those two than your image of their relationship, Jerome. Petunias- they’re something you leave an enemy. Most of the time, at least. Anger, resentment- only good thing they mean is not losing hope.”

Jerome didn’t have anything to say to that. Nana huffed and walked away from him, shaking her head.

In the next few weeks he was on high alert; every crack of a twig and patter of rain outside his door was greeted with attentive eyes. If it was the Judge- if what Nick thought was true-

But he never saw anyone.

(He kept the flowers until they browned and cracked and crumbled away.)

Kim

Kim had already talked about the petunias with the Captain- they had seemed agitated, upset ever since the Judge disappeared after they helped take down Joseph. Kim wasn’t sure what surprised her more; that the Judge really turned on the Father they loved so much, or that the Captain was so torn up about them leaving without saying goodbye.

Nana had also let slip that Jerome had received an odd gift from out of the blue a week ago, but she hadn’t thought much of it. Jerome was an attractive man and a compassionate one at that- it wouldn’t surprise her if he had more than a few admirers around Hope County.

Her flowers showed up on the kitchen table in the early morning.

Kim had been the first one awake; that in and of itself was a startling feat, given that Carmina was wont to be up at the “ass-crack of dawn” as her father put it. She’d decided to have an actual breakfast ready for her daughter and husband today; no cereal bars or stale bread crap for them today.

The kitchen was cool and welcoming in the soft morning light. Kim loved this time of day; everything seemed quiet and peaceful. The world was for the taking and Kim wasn’t going to waste the chance.

She’d opened the back door, propped the screen ajar to get some nice air flow and gone into the pantry to check their stores. Her fringe brushed into her eyes. As Kim lifted an absent hand to stroke the strands out of the way, she heard that faulty floorboard two feet inside the back door creak.

She froze.

There was silence. Her fingers twitched to her gun. Birds were singing outside the window.

There was a rustle of fabric. Kim pulled her gun. It caught on the calluses of her palms, slipping in her sweat. Should she call out to Nick? Take whoever it was on her own? How much time did she have?

There was another shuffle. The same floorboard creaked. She breathed in, breathed out.

“Hands up,” she shouted, twisting around the corner, gun up, trigger finger itchy. Kim only caught a glimpse of the tails of a long coat whipping out of sight around the screen door.

There was a thump from upstairs, feet on the landing. “Mom?”

It took Kim a second to see the bouquet. It sat innocently before her chair at the table. The twine was tied in a lopsided bow.

The confusion Nana had mentioned Jerome expressed suddenly started to make sense.

“I’m fine honey,” Kim called back while holstering her weapon tentatively, knowing that wouldn’t assuage Carmina’s worries in the slightest. “Just- thought I saw somebody. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

She had to take a few more minutes to calm her daughter down enough to go back to resting, but once she did, Kim snatched up the bundle. Just like Nana had mentioned with Jerome’s flowers, not a single Bliss blossom was in sight. They were all flowers Kim knew were native to Hope County, all ones Carmina herself had picked for her mother when she was little.

There was a book on flowers somewhere on their bookshelf; Kim remembered thinking it could tell them about which ones were good to eat before promptly forgetting it was there when she put it down.

She found it after a few minutes of scrambling, in which she tried to be as quiet as possible for the house’s sleeping occupants. It was old and dusty, pages yellowed and crinkled with water damage. It took even longer to find all the right flowers inside.

Camomile she recognized from the front of the box of tea; apparently they were for relaxation now, but the old meaning was “energy in the face of adversity.” Some 19th century bullshit.

Red poppies, like the ones that grew outside their home, meant “remembrance.” (Something twisted in Kim’s chest.)

Blue violets meant “faithfulness” or “watchfulness”; the book suggested that the sender was either saying they would watch out for the receiver until death, or that the sender believed that the receiver was a symbol of faithfulness. White zinnia was supposedly for “goodness,” and white heather meant “protection.”

But the last blooms, the ones that it took Kim the longest to define, were purple hyacinths.

“Pleading for forgiveness,” Kim murmured aloud, and the knot in her chest moved to her throat.

She showed Nick the bouquet; he’d already heard from Nana who the old woman thought was giving out flowers and Kim knew who Nick thought the Judge was. She didn’t say anything, just slid him the book across the breakfast table after Carmina had blown out the door to “get shit done.”

He sat silently for a few minutes but Kim knew when he got to the hyacinths. Nick shoved the text away, pushed his hat back on his head and placed his face in worn hands. Kim couldn’t think to say anything- what was there to say that would make this better? She just sat with her husband, held him around the shoulders, and stared at the crudely put together gesture on the table. The flowers were as ragged as Nana had mentioned Jerome’s were. The twine was obviously pulled off of a larger rope. It looked like a child had made it.

(Kim put it in a vase on her bedside table and woke every morning for the next week afraid it would be gone when she looked over. She didn't want to think what they’d do once the flowers died.)

Hurk

Blade showed up holding a bouquet out to his father with a note declaiming Hurk as the recipient. His son and cousin had been down at the river, hoping to catch something edible and not canned to eat for dinner. When Hurk jerked around to stare accusingly at Sharky, he simply shook his head.

“Kid went to take a piss in the woods and says he stopped to draw some shit in the dirt or something. Said a nice stranger from the trees gave him that and a cool stick to play with.”

“You think it was the Judge?” Hurk asked uneasily. If Blade’s mother found out how near to the Judge their son had been, he would be in deep shit.

Sharky’s face was uncharacteristically stony. “Kid said they didn’t say nothin’.”

“Nick says- do you really think it could be them?”

Sharky paused before he shrugged. The Dep was always a rough topic with him, just like they were with Nick: talking about a man’s only friend who died horribly did that.

“It was a pretty cool stick,” Sharky admitted.

Hurk gulped and nodded. He pried the flowers gently out of his son’s hand and dropped a kiss on the top of Blade’s head. Sharky motioned to Blade to help him get the fish he had thrown over his shoulder to the kitchens. Hurk held out a hand to stop him.

“How am I supposed to know what the fuck any of these mean? Kim said they might be important but I know fuck all about flowers, man.”

Sharky smirked a little and nodded at the note with Hurk’s name on it. “Think they made it easy on you, idiot.”

Hurk scowled at his cousin but flipped open the note, which was really a piece of notebook paper folded in half. He hardly registered Sharky herding Blade away once he stared matching the names and descriptions to the petals.

The handwriting was sloppy and jagged, trailing off and leaving punctures through the paper in places as if the person writing wasn’t used to holding a pen. Hurk read it all anyway. And then he read it again, just in case he missed something. His stomach was sinking.

Red tulip- Loyalty. Weird start, but okay. He guessed he was pretty loyal to his family.

Daffodils- New beginnings. Was the Judge talking about Blade? Probably. Hurk hadn’t exactly been quiet about his excitement about being a father.

Red Gladiolus- Strength, integrity. What the hell did integrity mean again?

Buttercups- childishness. Which, okay, that was fair he guessed.

Coreopsis- Always cheerful. Hurk swallowed thickly at that: Dep had liked him for his sense of humor.

Red/Yellow Zinnia- In memory of an absent friend.

That one threw him for a loop. Who was missing? A lot of people these days, but Hurk flashed on how torn up Kim Rye had seemed that day she muttered something about her own flowers dying, how Jerome had seemed pale for weeks, how Sharky and Nick were unable to speak from anger when they saw the Captain with that stupid old deputy outfit they’d found and donned on a lark. Yeah, okay. Maybe Hope County was missing someone pretty damn important.

The bouquet itself wasn’t tied with anything but a few other flowers; these were long stemmed yellow flowers, keeping in theme with the colors of the bouquet itself. Hurk flipped the paper over and found one last line down at the bottom of the page like he wasn’t really supposed to find it.

Rue- Regret, sorrow, repentance. You were a good friend.

“Well,” Hurk said aloud. He was hoarse; it hurt to speak. “Fuck.”

He stopped thinking Sharky and Nick were crazy after that.

He kept Blade close the next few days because while he missed them something awful like hell was he gonna let his son anywhere near somebody who’d been brainwashed for years on end by Joseph fucking Seed. That didn’t mean that he didn’t try to look out for anybody living in the woods. Sometimes Hurk thought he saw somebody moving on the edges of his vision when he was out there, but there was no one whenever he turned.

(He kept the flowers on the windowsill- he couldn’t take care of them for shit and his throat felt tight every time he realized that the only thing he had left of his friend would die in a day or two, but he just- he wanted them to know. To see. He is loyal, damn it. He is.)

Sharky

The Dep and Sharky were good friends. They were best friends.

He didn’t feel at all put-off that he hadn’t received a bunch of stupid flowers from the Judge. Nope. Nuh-uh. They didn’t even know that the Judge and Dep were the same person, really. The Judge could just be some weirdo in a mask with personal space issues. He didn't care if he didn’t get a bunch of plants from some stalker psycho killer. Zero jealousy here. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Sharky pumped his fist in the air when he saw the stupid not at all long awaited bouquet sitting on the hood of his truck. The same notebook paper as Hurk’s bunch lay folded underneath the plants, so that the hot metal was buffered from melting the petals too easily. The heat wave was continuing, though, and the flowers were already looking more than a little worse for wear. He snapped them up eagerly and shoved his way into the truck before he allowed himself to read it. His hands were shaking.

His name- Charlemagne Victor Boshaw IV, not his nickname- was printed sloppily on the outside. (They remembered how to spell my name!)

On the inside, his note looked pretty much like Hurk’s.

Morning Glory- affection. Don’t make any jokes.

White clover- Thinking of you. Seriously, no jokes.

Purple Carnation- changeable, whimsical. His mood swings weren’t that bad, come on.

Baby’s Breath- purity of heart. Okay, that one wasn’t really true.

Azalea- Take care of yourself for me. NOT that way.

Viscaria- Invitation to dance. We disco-ed pretty good, huh?

Then, at the bottom, it was signed with a shaky smiley face. It looked like they’d tried to cross it out a few times, but he could still make it out.

Hurk had told him about his note, and there was still at least one flower he didn’t know the name of. His heart beat too fast in his mouth. This part was gonna suck.

Sure enough, there were three more lines on the back.

Aloe- grief.

Love-lies-bleeding- hopelessness.

Don’t try to find me, friend. Please.

“Oh, like hell,” Sharky snarled at the paper. He crumpled it in his overeager grip, but just as quickly smoothed it back out. His friend- his only friend.

They weren’t dead.

“Hang on in there, Dep,” Sharky muttered, starting up the truck. The engine whined, rumbled, and turned over. He’d have to take a detour; Nick Rye would want to know about this.

He’d keep looking however fucking long it took. The Dep couldn’t honestly expect to reappear having obviously been fucked up by Joseph Seed for years, turn on the fucker at the last second and then get away with just sending fucking flowers, could they? They couldn't really think he’d leave them out in the cold without putting up a good Goddamn fight.

“You just hang on in there, buddy. We’re gonna getcha home safe.”

(He kept the flowers in a loop of the same twine that tied them together hanging from his rear view mirror. They dried and crumpled in on themselves in record time, but he didn't mind. When they started to lose their smell Sharky dug out an old air-freshener from the glove box. It was all good.)

Grace

Grace had Nana explain her flowers to her when they came.

She knew that she might get some; hell, if Hurk radioed in to say he got a bouquet she sure as shit better get one if the Judge really was who they thought they were. God, this would all be a lot easier if the Judge could talk. If Grace could see. If the world hadn't gone to hell in a handbasket.

“If, if, if.” She had no time for “if” these days.

The flowers smelled pungent; they must have picked the ones they did so she could find them in the dark. They were on her window ledge when she woke up in the morning. Grace was less worried about the Judge wandering around her land in the dark of the night than she thought she'd be. (she still closed the window.)

Nana took her hands and placed her fingers on the petals as she explained them. Grace kept her touch as delicate as she could; she could imagine it was almost as if she were touching the Dep’s face instead of dying vegetation this way.

Who knew being blind bred loneliness?

“Black-eyed susans,” Nana helped Grace finger the thin, long petals, soft like silk. “They’re bright yellow, in pretty good shape. The Judge is getting better at picking flowers.”

“What do they mean?”

“For you? Justice, most likely. Now these next, with the wide petals? Those are geraniums, pinkish-white, they mean determination, or refinement I guess, but I think it’s the former. These layered ones are chrysanthemums, white and purple, so let’s see, that’d be...truth and honesty.”

“This is-” Grace felt the next stem, her fingernail accidentally slicing into it. “Isn’t this a dandelion? I can feel the- the fluffy bit.”

Nana snorted a laugh. “Yes ma’am it is. They mean overcoming hardship.”

Grace’s mouth went dry. God damn them. They could still get to her, and they didn’t even have to give a rousing speech to do it this time.

Where the hell were they?

“What’s this tying it together, Nana? It’s not rope.” whatever it was, there were crinkles in it like the Judge (Dep?) had tried to do something fancy with it but gave up halfway through. The knot itself was double or triple tied. It was probably cutting into the stems too much. Grace guessed the Judge moved around a lot on a daily basis; they probably wanted to make sure the bunch all stayed together.

“That’s ivy, dear. Feel the leaves? Don’t worry, I’ll bet the Judge made sure it wasn’t the poisonous type. It’s got some wormwood woven in, too. That’s the pokey bits.”

“Why ivy? Why wormwood?”

Nana sighed softly. “Ivy means endurance, faithfulness. It’s good for you, kiddo. But wormwood-”

Grace had heard from Jerome that not all the flowers were- she’d heard about this part. “What?”

“It means absence and bitter sorrow. The absolute worst kind, you know? The kind you don’t really come back from.”

Damn it. Damn them.

“I don’t believe them,” Grace decided suddenly. She wanted to slam the flowers down, to run away from this- how dare they put this on her? How could they just say something like this and not face the consequences?

(Her heart was squeezing too tight, wrung out like a sponge. How could they not come to me?)

“Kid-”

“No, I don’t believe it.” Grace thinned her lips, narrowed unseeing eyes towards where she knew the breeze came in the open window. She hoped they saw her. “I can't believe that. They’re coming back. By God, I'll drag them back kicking and screaming if I have to.”

(She took apart the bouquet carefully and kept everything- ivy, wormwood and all. She dried the flowers and put them all in separate books on her shelf for safe keeping. They’d stay there until she could figure out how to catch the idiot and smack some sense into them. Maybe the flowers would still stay after that. Maybe always.)

Nick

Nick didn’t care how long it took. He didn't care who thought he was right, who thought he was wrong, or who thought he was crazy. He’d known from the start, from the day the bombs dropped, from the day that the Dep took care of them when Carmina was coming. He knew the Dep was gonna survive. If anyone could make it through hell and back with a funny one-liner and a lopsided grin, it’d be the Dep.

He’d seen them when they were following the Captain through the countryside a few times. Something about the way they held their bow, shifted their feet, deliberated silently whenever they took a shot- it was familiar. At first Nick thought maybe he was remembering Jess Black but that wasn’t it. Actually, he didn't start putting it together until he unsuccessfully tried to get the Judge to talk to him outside his home.

The Captain had been busy and left the Judge standing awkwardly by the porch. Nick had offered them a seat, nervous around someone with no discernable eyes, but was met with silence.

That was the first clue.

“Hey, you all right in there?” He’d ventured uneasily. The Judge (the Deputy, it was Dep, he knew they couldn’t be dead, the tough son of a bitch!) hadn’t answered, simply tipped their head in just the right way and-

“Holy shit,” Nick could remember exclaiming. The Judge had shuffled back a step and he’d scrambled to recover. “Sorry, I- you remind me of-”

He never got to finish, though, because the Judge had veritably sprinted across the camp to where the Captain was beckoning for them. They’d been careful not to come near the Ryes ever since. Nick wasn’t sure how to take that.

Sure, he knew, but Nick sure as hell didn't know what to do about the fact that he knew. Everyone else- even Kim- didn’t seem to understand. They thought it was wishful thinking.

But Nick knew. He knew.

So when he caught the Judge stealthily sneaking a bunch of flowers into his barn, he didn't yell or attack.

“Ya know, you could just come in for a beer, man.” He leaned against the doorjamb, trying to appear casual. The Dep had always been skittish, and that was before a madman had locked them in with him for seven years.

The Judge whirled so fast he winced in sympathy for their back. The flowers scattered a few petals. Nick raised his hands in alarm; the Judge was panting- nearly wheezing- behind their mask.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya.” He wondered if he should step inside. The Judge was darting looks over their shoulder to the nearest exit. Nick would either have to get real good at negotiation real fast, or he’d lose his only chance. “Heard you were making house calls, thought I’d check it out for myself.”

They didn’t seem pleased with that. They took two steps to the right and one back. Nick tried to step forward, but only succeeded in making the Judge leap back so far they slammed into the opposite wall. “Hey, hey, no worries, man, I’m not gonna hurt you- stop!”

They lunged to the side, towards the open barn door and Nick hurtled forward too, catching them around the elbow.

“Hey, stop okay- I know that’s you, Dep!” They stilled for only a moment, but Nick thought- stupidly, maybe- that he’d won. “It’s okay, you can come in now. It’s over- you and Cap killed Seed-”

The Judge turned and shoved him back with the hand holding the bouquet. Nick probably could have done more to stop them, but between the fact that he didn’t actually want to cause violence, and the fact that the Judge took his free hand and curled it over the flowers, he was left standing stupidly gaping, in an empty barn as they ran.

Nick Rye was never one to take shit lying down though, and he was hot on the Dep’s heels a second later. (Maybe chasing them around Hope County didn’t say “hey, it’s super safe now and I promise I won’t hurt you like the crazy guy you were locked up with for years on end,” but he was flying by the seat of his pants here.)

They’d cleared half of the yard by the time he was done tripping over his own feet, but Nick was gaining fast, and the Dep still had a fence to clear before the woodline started.

“Dep,” He screamed; his lungs felt like they were about to give out. He really was getting old. “Goddamnit Dep, stop running!”

They did not stop running.

The dirt was dry and cracked in the yard but the grass was still dewy from early that morning, and Nick saw them slip a little when they got to the fence. The entrance was actually on the other side of the barn but they probably didn’t think they could cut around the barn fast enough to get away. He could have caught them from a side entrance to the barn if they’d done that. Dep had always been too smart for their own good.

Nick lurched forward, heart dropping to the pit of his stomach, unsure of whether he was lunging to help Dep up or excited that their slip gave him a few seconds to catch up and make them stay.

But the Judge righted themselves easily and flung a hand out in his direction. Nick was lower to the ground, hand out already to try to help them up, and the dirt that flew out of their palm struck him square in the face.

“Augh!”

He twisted sideways, lost his footing and slammed his shoulder hard into the ground. It was the first time the Judge (or Dep) had ever done something to harm him.

“Fucking hell, Dep,” He called, ignoring how raw his throat felt. Dust coated his tongue. “Christ, would you just listen?”

The fence jangled. Boots hit the ground. They were getting away.

He managed to regain his sight after a moment, although tears trailed down his temples. He was having a hard time not coughing up a lung. But when he raised his head feebly, the Judge hadn't disappeared into the darkness of the forest. They were standing stock still, head tilted to that same fucking angle as always, watching him through the fence.

For a long moment, they held each other’s eyes. Nick’s shoulder ached something awful.

Finally, his hip and knee told him they wouldn’t stand being dug into the dirt any longer. He rolled over onto all fours and slowly, painfully, hauled himself up.

“That was a shitty trick, man.”

The Judge shifted on their feet, took a step back. They let out a concerned grunt. Nick decided to think it was concerned, anyway. He chuckled lightly and dusted his hands off on his jeans. “Nah, I’m good. Just the joints- they don’t work exactly like they used to, is all.”

The Judge took another step back and joined their hands together at their middle, making sharp, small movements with them. It took a second for it to register with Nick.

“Aw hell, don’t get so worried,” Nick reassured them, rubbing the back of his neck. It was never easy dealing with a nervous Dep. “Ya didn’t hurt me- stop wringing your hands man, you’re freakin’ me out.”

Another grunt. The Judge gestured to the house.

Nick perked up. “Hey, yeah, I’ll go in- but you gotta come with me, okay?”

They shook their head so vigorously there was an audibly crack. Another step back, and they pointed to the ground, then Nick and finally themselves.

“I’m tellin’ you, you didn’t hurt me. You can come in, Dep. You can come on home.”

The noise they let out was as close to a wail as anything Nick had ever heard; it bubbled forth from somewhere deep and warbled in the air. The pitch grew and grew for agonizing moments before the Judge dropped their head in their hands, shaking, and cut themselves off.

It was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

“Hey,” he soothed quietly, shifting forward an inch. He held out his hands, palms out, and tried to make himself as non threatening as possible. “Hey, it’s okay, see? You’re oka-”

The Dep jerked their head up towards him and Nick froze. He was still holding the bedraggled remains of his flowers in his dirt covered right hand. They seemed to zero in on the torn blossoms, and they let out a low-pitched sob behind that damn mask. Their hands clutched the sides of their head for a moment, squeezing violently.

Then the Judge turned and sprinted for the forest. They were gone in seconds.

“Shit.” He muttered, pulling his cap off and running his hand through his hair. “Fuck. Shit. I fucked that up.”

Kim was kind enough to only glare a little when he presented the torn up blossoms and grumbled out the details. She thumped the book down in his lap and stormed off to the kitchen. That was fair enough he guessed.

Nick wrote the meanings out this time- he knew Kim hated that her flowers had died months ago. He’d caught her flipping through the book just to read the same descriptions over and over again. She did it when she couldn't sleep.

Myrtle meant love or affection, and peonies wished the receiving party a happy marriage or life. Snowdrops meant hope. Bells of Ireland, which took him forever to find, were meant to tell him good luck in life. Pine needles, which were threaded through the stems, could mean either hope or pity. Nick hoped it wasn't the latter.

The last flower was something called a rainflower. It didn't look very intimidating, but Nick’s throat still closed when he read the description.

Rainflower- often taken to mean “I must atone for my sins, I will never forget you.”

“Goddamnit Dep.” He pushed shaking fingers through his hair again and tugged, letting the burning in his scalp turn his thoughts from the burning in his eyes. “Why can't you just, for once, let someone help you?”

(He put the flowers in the same vase Kim had- she hadn't moved it from their bedside table. Maybe she’d been waiting for his turn. Maybe she’d just been hoping that if the vase stayed, the Dep would have to come back and give them more flowers to fill it. Nick knew that’s what he’d been naive enough to wish for.)

Carmina

Carmina found them paying unexpected respects at Rush’s grave. There had not been any sightings of them, hide nor hair, since her father tried to convince them to come back.

They were still wearing that thick, furred coat even in the heat. Summer was in full swing. She worried about heat stroke.

(Heat stroke wouldn't matter if she couldn’t get them to listen. They’d die of exposure or bears or starvation if they didn’t quit this stupid running schtick.)

“Deputy,” Carmina called softly, letting her footfalls sound louder than they usually did. She wasn't eager to get shot full of arrows because the person her parents told her so much about got jumpy.

The Deputy was standing over Rush’s grave silently in the fading light. She couldn’t see their hands- they were standing with their arms held in front of them, maybe clasping their hands. She didn’t know if they ever prayed.

They stiffened at her voice but didn’t turn. They didn’t run.

“Deputy, we all know that’s you in there.” She inched forward cautiously, as if the person in front of her was the scared child, not her. They shook their head and made a rasping groan of denial.

“Yes, you are.” Carmina admonished gently. “You’re not the Judge. You’re not anything he made you.”

The Deputy looked at her then and Carmina’s heart clenched tight. Their mask was covered in grime, caked in dirt and blood. There were cracks and fissure in the material (was it wood? Plastic? She could never get close enough to tell). Their neck was stained with what was either tear-tracks or sweat. Maybe both. Their jacket was spattered with gore and stank to high heaven- the Dep probably hadn’t bathed in at least a few days, simply hunting and foraging and picking flowers instead. They were holding a few lilies- flowers for a grave.

One of the lenses in the mask was missing. Through the hole it created Carmina could finally see one bright eye. It blinked at her. The Deputy shook their head.

“He’s gone,” Carmina stepped even closer. They didn’t move. She risked a hand on their bicep; she could feel them trembling. “It’s over. You made sure of that.”

With her other hand, Carmina pressed the bunch of flowers she’d brought into the Deputy’s palms.

“Rose leaves say you can hope,” Carmina explained gently- unneeded, to be sure, but she had the idea that if she stopped talking the Dep might just book it. “And tea roses say we’ll never forget you. Stock, for the bonds of affection and to remind you you’ll always be with us. Star of Bethlehem for “reconciliation.” White jasmine for “sweet love,” and goldenrod for “encouragement.” And finally-”

She pulled one stem from the rest and reached to tuck it, safe and sound, into the hood and behind the Deputy’s ear. “White daisies: for rebirth.”

The Deputy moaned quietly and dropped their head. Their shoulders quaked as they sobbed weakly behind the mask. Carmina held them lightly, carefully, against her shoulder. She turned her head to speak directly into their ear. “It’s okay now, Dep. It’s time to come in from the cold. It’s time to come home.”

354 notes · View notes

9uk · 6 years

Text

Let Me Stay Close To You : part 3

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 4.7k

⌲ genre : angst, pinch of fluff

⌲ warnings : battling of demons and mild suggestive terms, mentions of torture, other than that enjoy.

⌲ a/n : hehe hope you guys enjoy this, it’s kinda draggy for me (i feel) but it plays a huge role to character development. thank you all for patiently waiting, & like always, feedback is more than welcomed ;>

part two > part three > part four

“So,” She props her elbows on the countertop and begins, raising her cheeky brows and lips curling up in mischief. You aimlessly scroll through your dusty twitter feed, nothing in particular that lures your undivided attention to it.

Tossing your phone onto the couch, you grab to hug a pillow as you switch on the television instead, and absent-mindedly wait for your roommate to finish her sentence.

Sooyoung, however, has quickly spun around with her back facing you, placing all attention on the pot of boiling soup on the stove without a word—pretending that she never said a word in the first place.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you thought you could be aid to remind her of where she left off just a few seconds ago.

“Um, carry on..?” You shift your gaze back to the television, heading for Brooklyn 99 instinctively and almost immediately, heart craving for a series of laughing fits.

You might be too stressed out ever since the beginning of the term—today being your first day of classes—and it just couldn’t turn out any better with the unridable stench of Jeon Jungkook.

A small scream breaks into your ears and—

“Goddammit Y/N! Can’t you see that I’m trying to salvage this pumpkin soup right here?”

The loudness of her voice makes you jump, her words of despair shattering the quietness of the entire room apart.

Sooyoung looks like she is about to rip off all the hair on her head in pure frustration—with a smell akin to a burnt pumpkin soup diffuses into the living room and into your nostrils.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, hurry turn the stove off!” And the sight before you is a major trigger to your anal retention: your poor friend bends to look at the gas knob, hair almost catching on fire, hot soup on the ladle she’s holding dripping onto her wrists and the orange liquid in the pot bubbling violently, threatening to spill onto the kitchen floor—which you had just responsibly mopped earlier in the morning—at any given moment.

In sheer luck, she manages to put the life-threatening, disastrous situation under control—hand coming out to switch the stove fire off, everything settling into a silent aftermath of a warzone.

Both of your fearful and panicky states dissolve into a huge sigh of relief as the pumpkin soup retreats back to safe home— amused chuckles of disbelief erupting from the two of you.

“On the bright side, this serves as a gentle reminder for you to not ever try make soup again.” You raise your brows at her with arms crossed.

“And that I didn’t burn down the kitchen.” Sooyoung adds, smiling gleefully. You can’t believe she’s real.

“You had something to say to me?” You inquire again, blowing onto the soup that was quite surprisingly, not half bad after all the hassle.

Sooyoung narrows her eyes hard, at the bowl of pumpkin soup, trying her best to recollect her intentions of speaking just a while ago.

“Ah!” She points a finger in the air when she manages to hook onto that piece of memory floating away.

“What were you doing with Jeon Jungkook during the party yesterday?”

The question drops onto your tense body like an atomic bomb.Your hand freezes, soup dripping from the spoon back into the ceramic bowl. You open your mouth to answer Sooyoung, but how exactly were you supposed to explain that?

“Erm...” It was all you could manage while you figure out the best way to articulate your relationship with Jungkook to her.

Where should you start?

“Well..” Sooyoung leans foward on the countertop in unnecessary anticipation, looking at you with sparkly expectant eyes.

From the day you made him fall face flat to the ground?

“You see...” You drag for as long as you could, not so sure how to put it, at least in the most decent manner possible.

The thing between you and Jungkook—if it’s not obvious enough already—is a bully and a victim. There’s nothing worth bragging about that relationship.

And no, you’re definitely not trying to victimise yourself or anything of the sort. It’s a fact as clear as day that you have accepted long ago. Or too used to belonging to the title ‘victim’ in this whole bullying situation. There’s also nothing much you can do honestly. You were destined to live life this way, having a father who has a financial fraud vandalised on his records forever, a mother who wakes up before the sun does to brew coffee for the people setting off to work— making the child of aforementioned people inferior to the child whose parents own one of the top three largest companies in the entertainment market.

You were inferior to Jeon Jungkook.

Power and money-oriented society, remember?

Something between a scoff of resentment and an unamused chuckle leaves your lips to the thought of the awful past life you have finally abandoned (sort of). But Sooyoung seems to lack the ability to interpret your tone well, eyes lighting up at the sight of your teeth.

“No way, don’t tell me you guys left the party to make out at the front porch.” She gasps in shock, eyes widening and hand flying up to cover her mouth.

No way.

You immediately deny her absolutely outrageous and almost laughable guess.

“What? No! We were just-“

Suddenly, the memories of his calloused nail-bitten fingers and soft palm on the side of your face aggressively fights to replace every brain cell that you have, causing all the pores on your skin to vibrate as you quiver at the feeling. It almost seems like it was a mere hallucination of your drunken state of mind, not until Sooyoung brings it up again in your face to remind you that it was real. It did happen. Jungkook had caressed you.

“just…” Your voice drifts off, the electricity of pretence flowing through the tiny tangled wires in your head, smoothly making their way to light up the bulb in your mind. “..talking!”

You already feel bad for lying to her.

“About making out?” Sooyoung is not one to concede defeat to your lame, clearly-made-up excuse, the picture of you and Jungkook sucking off each other’s faces sticking onto her suspicions like gum on the bottom of a shoe. The direction of her imagination is going polar opposites from your initial fear of the revelation of your devastating past—to which you softly sigh in relief to.

“About whatever you think of, detective.” You try to lighten the mood, sending a cheeky wink her way and escaping the conversation—the perfect resolution to avoid spilling the truth and fabricating more lies.

She scorns at your open answer, leaving her only to imagination to take control of her doubts out in the air, wandering freely as she sulkily stirs at her soup.

You giggle at the cute pout beginning to form on her scarlet lips and slowly drain the warm pumpkin delight from the bowl into your stomach.

You would tell this kind and lovely lady about everything—from something as simple how a Corgi barked and wagged its tail at you while on the way to campus, to your deep inner conflicts between your passion and confidence and the dire situation of your family, and how you’d really missed the way things were when you were still in pigtails playing with doll—but not the major happening in your history.

The story of the scar on the left side of your temple was something you had never want to dig up and elaborate on to your friends. Once they have a whiff of your pitiful side, those eyes that currently look at you with admiration and adoration will very quickly turn into unwanted sympathy and abomination—and your pals will gradually drift away from your side, knowing that they can do so much better than having a true loser stick around.

So you would never disclose the truth between you and Jungkook to her. You could never do that.

Nothing felt more suffocating than standing outside an extravagant yet simple looking bungalow. The darkness of the sky cannot further accentuate the black matte walls of the exterior of this home. The hazy moonlight shines on the stagnant turquoise pool, topped off with the stationary shrubs along the perimeter of this whole compound, flaunting the estate’s overall tranquility. This house looked like it belonged to some clean freak who never steps foot in or out of it through the front door and owns about eleven Dobermans. If you were a passerby, you would have never guessed it belongs to a boy currently studying in college. You clasp your hands together, fingers locking onto one another —a little too tightly— for emotional support and courage.

His fingers lift the heavy material with ease, as he watches you through the gaps of his curtains from his bedroom.

You were about five minutes away from meeting Jungkook. Alone in a room most likely. As the number of steps you take increases, with an angry-looking security guard escorting you on your way, you can feel your heart hammering hard against your poor ribs, teetering on the edge of rupturing out of your chest there and then.

Finally, in no less than a blink of an eye, you were in the chilly immaculate bedroom with Jungkook. You aren’t even exaggerating when you say that the man in black had practically threw you in like a fresh piece of meat flung into a lion’s den—waiting to be ferociously devoured by the beast himself. At least, that was how you felt.

The slamming of the grand double doors echoed through the room and you scan your surroundings.

Why were you even in his bedroom?

Did that mean he doesn’t even have a study room in this uselessly big house?

Your eyes fall onto a small desk at the corner of the room. Yep, the both of you were going to work on that.

Finally, they fall onto the main subject of this room, standing at the window, gazing out to the night sky. You stared longer than you wished, no that you can help it because—he looked so innocent and normal like that, watching the stars and moon quietly in appreciation.

Your breath hitched when Jungkook suddenly turns around to face you. Releasing the curtain from his hand, they flowed close again, effectively blocking out the the pitch-black sky. He looked you in the eye, before his lips curl up into an amused grin.

You are mirroring his emotion as well—that you’re actually alone in his room for no other reason than a homework assignment—but the limelight of amusement is stolen by the overpowering terror and anxiety. Jungkook could quite literally kill you and feed your body parts to his dogs—if he even owned one, but that isn’t the main point. The main point is that he could do anything he want to you right here and right now and his guard, instead of helping you, would probably help Jungkook lock the doors. He could easily tie you up and use you as a sex slave or hold you captive in this plain bedroom, abusing you as and when he liked.

You hate yourself for coming, but you knew that worse could happen if you hadn’t obeyed. You feel a trace of ease when you are reminded that now, you have actual friends who would call the cops upon the realisation of your disappearance.

Stay calm and stop overthinking, gosh.

Avoiding his gaze, you begin fishing out the worksheets and your laptop from your backpack. “We should start on it-“

“No, no, no,” He waves his hand in disagreement and walks over to you. His long legs bring him across the wooden floor swiftly reaching you within a second.

And subconsciously, your hand movements halt as you retreat a step back.

“Before we start on that useless assignment,” You narrow your eyes fiercely at him, putting up a brave front. He exhales, “I think you have the answers to the many questions in my head right now.”

Stunned, your eyes hastily search the white walls of the room for answers. You visited his house for nothing else but one cause—and that is to finish the planning on the whole anatomy project, leave in one piece and hopefully never to come back ever again. You weren’t here for an unwanted session of questioning—and you weren’t about to give him the answers that he wanted. You will not allow him to have you at the tip of his fingers again, for you have become a strong, firm and fearless women. Whether he had plans to slaughter the fuck out of you here, is now placed in the back of your mind for a moment.

Seeing as to how petrified you look—your whole face going pale as paper, Jungkook feels as if he’s some kind of monster to you.

Maybe he was, but he most definitely isn’t now.

He purely just wants you to answer a few questions of his before the both of you can start on the project—which is why he was rather confused at why you seemed so afraid of him.

You were never like this, even when he mistreated you and committed those unscrupulous acts on you, you would show zero emotions, to only ignore him and see his entire existence as irrelevant—so why were you look so scared now that he was standing so close to you?

Nonetheless, Jungkook wants his question marks to be depleted.

“First of all-“

“No.”

Shut. Him. Out.

“We either sit down and start the planning, or I’m leaving.”

You feel a gush of confidence breeze past you, your heart hardening and a side of you never known before appearing. Wow, did you really just stood your firm to Jeon Jungkook, the guy who bullied you for the past 4 years? A heavenly warmth of pride runs through your blood.

Jungkook is momentarily perplexed, mouth halfway open as the remaining words are stuck to his throat. He gulps and blinks repeatedly, absorbing what you had just said in disbelief—that you’ve noticed.

Call it a bipolar disorder, because you too, have no idea how your pyroclastic flow of nerves transformed into a solid indestructible mountain of rock in a snap. It was either you were too determined to protect the life you have now, or that you’re beginning to catch the smear of vulnerability in his eyes. You really have no clue.

With a tilt of his head to the side—a habit he hasn’t got rid of since highscool, be it from confusion, rage or happiness—he mumurs an approval. “E-Erm, okay.”

Success.

Parallel universe, indeed.

Nothing is going through his head right now—not as you speak and point to the various ideas you have come up with for this homework, not as you explain which idea is the best and start listing the pros and cons of it, not as you ask him to do the mindmap for the planning.

You notice that you’re speaking tons of words more than talkative, nonsensical-blabbering Jeon Jungkook, and he was being unusually quiet. Maybe he was thinking of ways on how he was going to torture you later on. True or not, you wanted a high grade on this assignment.

Be professional, the rational side of your brain puts your drifting thoughts back on track.

“Hello. Are you there.” You slap a hand so close to his face right infront of his big doe eyes, and he doesn’t even blink. He’s staring so hard at the crotch of the human body diagram you printed—probably doing it unintentionally amidst busy building sandcastles in the air—and you try not to laugh at the sight of him doing that.

“Jungkook!” You finally decide to yell in his ears and he flinches away hard, flying up from his seat.

“What! I’m right here!” He shouts back in the retaliation of being shocked, rubbing his earhole and you irresistibly laugh at his reaction.

Wait what, you laughed at Jungkook?

This felt so…strange, yet it is a very typical interaction between two friends. Maybe that is why, solely because it is a normal conversation between the both of you—a duo that have never experienced an ordinary interaction before, other than the occasional rubber band shots and verbal attacking of your outer appearance.

Hold up, did you just say friends? Impossible.

Your bright and smiley face falls into a blank expression at the sudden realisation faster than a flash. Jungkook’s face mirrors the falling of yours too, but his features drains from something a bit more—something like actual fondness— to scepticism and worry.

Clearing your throat, you turn to face the splayed out papers on the table.

“Let’s um, start on what we’re supposed to do.”

Jungkook slowly, warily sits back down to join you, staring at the laptop screen, lost.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Namjoon would have seriously made a better project partner. Now you would have to repeat your instructions, something that you hated.

Sighing in complete impatience, you start from the top again.

“Of course you’re right here.”

Silence.

It blankets the both of you squeezing two chairs into the desk made for one, quietly doing your individual parts in utmost concentration. Add on his vigorous smashing of the keyboard and the rough flipping of the pages of the handout (because you can’t wait to get out of here.)

It wasn’t unacceptably uncomfortable, but it wasn’t particularly settling and peaceful as well. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable—when the undesirable memories of the past sporadically appears in each other’s minds—one’s heart filled with guilt and the other filled with ache.

Up to you to figure which is who.

You are extremely thankful for how complexed and meticulous the planning of the project is, allowing the both of you to fully immerse in doing the annoying details well and answering the challenging questions.

It is also silent because—none of you had dare speak to each other unless it was involving the task at hand.

The clock ticked to ten and with the shut of both laptops and the zipping of your pencil case, the papers gathered in a neat rectangle stack_it was time to face reality again.

Jungkook breaks the silence first.

“Can I ask my questions now?”

It was weird. The way Jungkook was asking for your permission to do something as simple as firing the burning questions in his mind. If you were him, you would not even be able to stay one bit focused on the mindmap creation, only able to ponder about how the girl beside him had changed into someone…so different.

It was weird because you weren’t used to Jungkook speaking nicely (normally) to you. There was an absence of irritation and danger in the tone of his voice, which made his words seem too kind to be true. It never fails to send you into a stupor when a swear word is missing from his sentence to you. Maybe, for the better or worse, in the fleet of eight months, Jungkook has changed. Maybe, and just maybe, it was time to view him in a different light.

“Yeah, you can.” You easily give him consent.

“Okay first question, why were you sitting next to Namjoon in anatomy lecture?”

Was that really all he had wanted to ask?

You shoot him a look of bewilderment. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely did not include who you sat with in lecture.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“What-“

“You do know that he is a pervert that goes after girls whenever there’s a chance right?” Jungkook warns you, and you are at a loss for words.

Namjoon wasn’t someone like that, and you strongly believe the impression you have of him.

“Listen, he’s actually a really nice guy okay?” You counterattack his assumption. Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief, scoffing as you speak.

“That’s what everyone says.”

You actually felt like believing him. Jungkook is effectively inserting doubts about Namjoon into your head, and you’re actually starting to question the guy Namjoon really was. Did you not know him well enough? Was the low self-esteem just a plain act?

No, you have no reason to trust Jungkook—who was capable of manipulation and you were one to know best about this.

He seems to be able to sense the distrust from you to his claim, but what he said was true. You weren’t the first girl Namjoon has tried approaching. But you were the first to accept him.

“It’s really up to you whether to heed my advice or not—which is to stay away from a guy like that,” Jungkook puts his hands up in surrender, “but I’m just giving you a heads up, lest you fall into his trap of feelings or get taken advantage of... you know.”

Blinking, you take ten seconds to administrate what he told you into your mind. For what exactly, was Jungkook being so kind towards you for?

You don’t have the answers to that, you think it is because he only wants you to himself to bully—and not share that privilege with Namjoon.

“I just..hope you don’t get hurt, again.”

And then once more, you were wrong about him.

The word ‘again’ reminds you of how bad he had hurt you physically, and emotionally, placed humiliation above your name and put you down to rock bottom. Everyday you would emotionlessly stare at yourself in the mirror and see a girl full of flaws and insecurities. A girl so unhappy and afraid to do anything she truly liked and follow her dreams. A girl who built up in four high walls around herself and not let anyone in, scared to feel the pain of losing someone again. A girl who was so, so tired of living. The undeserved death of your late bestfriend demolished the happiness in your soul, and Jungkook further crushed all its shattered fragments into fine dust—which made you become that girl.

However, the Jungkook you knew all those years back was gone—that you’re still trying to register—and he had changed. Not his face, which was still the same old handsome Jungkook back in highschool, but his heart had turned into something like pure gold.

It may not be every part of him, but one thing you were sure as of right now, was that Jungkook had a kind side to him that was just never shown to you before. For all you know, he may have grown well from that immature brat in the past and became someone who’s trying to repent from his mistakes.

“Um, sure..” You’re not sure how to respond to such words coming out of his mouth—were you supposed to say thank you ?

Jungkook hesitates for a split second, before shooting the next question.

“Second thing, why did you act like you didn’t know me at the party?”

The thing is, did you really know him though?

It was harmless to attempt to keep him out of your life. It was also harmless to not have Jeon Jungkook in your happy new life.

“I’m not answering that.” You strictly follow the initial plan and Jungkook doesn’t seem too pleased at your answer.

“Are you sure you’re not gonna answer me?” He steps closer and the gap between your faces shrunk so much, that you can feel the fanning of his breath on your cheeks. He was riled up, threatening tone rebirthing and fury dripping in his eyes. Jungkook cocks a brow up, challenging your stand.

This was the Jungkook you knew.

He is a breath away from grabbing the collar of your shirt and slamming you against the wall and you flutter your eyes shut and squirm away from his menacing form. Witnessing how you switched into someone so fearful of him, he lets out a groan of disappointment.

Instead, all you hear next is the string of curses coming out of his mouth and you slowly open your eyes to see him running his fingers through his thick hair and pulling harshly at it in frustration.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit-fuck!”

It was like, he was trying to stop himself.

As he slapped himself back to the better of his senses, you realised that everyone had their own demons in their head. And Jungkook was no exception. At that moment, you felt pity for the guy who stood before you battling his detestable old self. His demons were overpowering, and just when you thought Jungkook excelled in manipulation, you thought wrong again—it was the demons fucking with his head, and Jungkook didn’t know how to properly deal with them, resulting in outbursts of physical and verbal abuse—the only way Jungkook knew to express his pain.

What did Jungkook go through, that made him the monster he was?

“I-“ He starts again, cautiously speaking to you this time.

His breaths quickened and he grunts, exasperated at the failure of his words. You keep quiet as you wait for him to settle from the fit with his arms on his hips. Calming down, he turns around and suggests.

“It’s late, let me just send you home, okay?”

He was being so thoughtful for you—something you were still getting used to.

You felt so useless, standing at the side to watch him helplessly fight his inner conflicts—and being the main cause of his struggle.

The fear you felt at first has evaporated at Jungkook’s effort to not hurt you in the slightest way possible. You saw it in his eyes the first time he stroked his finger along your scar and heard it for yourself when he cared for your wellbeing.

It is in fact, time to see him in a different light—a better one.

Jungkook drives you safely to your dorm, a short and quiet journey given that his house is around the area. You wouldn’t have a peace of mind going back to campus alone through the dark alleys and streets—so you were rather grateful for the ride offer.

You mutter a ‘thanks’ before carefully exiting the grey Lamborghini you didn’t dare to cause a tiny scratch on. You speedily walked towards the entrance of your dorm building, before you hear the door of the sports car clicking open, followed by hurried footsteps.

“Wait Y/N!” Jungkook yells out and makes his way towards you.

His footsteps slow down as he reaches your patiently waiting form.

His eyes drop to the road, followed by a tilt of his head. He was nervous.

Scratching the back of his head in strong apprehension, Jungkook forcefully gets rid of all nerves and puts his words into correct place. And it goes way back when he clears his throat, bringing him to the time he faced the mirror and practiced this for a couple of dozen times.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t even have to question what for, because he has a lot to be remorseful and repentant about.

You can tell that it took a lot from him to say these three words, especially for someone who didn’t have to apologise to anyone with all that money and power. He wasn’t obliged to give you an apology. And so, he didn’t have to go through the trouble of apologising to you for what he has done. But here he was, handing you his words of redemption wholeheartedly. You were appreciative of his gesture, but you weren’t so prepared to readily forgive him just then.

“I’ll..see you around?”

Jungkook continues after your silent reply.

“Yup.” You smile assuringly.

And your answer itself sufficed for him.

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fan fiction #bts fanfic #bangtan

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parallel5ths · 5 years

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Buffy paper!

I had to write a paper for my English class and wrote this in about 12 hours. It's definitely a little haywire, but a good starting point for expanding on the universe.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer has become a cult classic since it’s premier in 1997. After it’s unsuccessful predecessor by the same moniker, no one would have imagined it would explode to the icon it is today. Buffy Summers, introduced as a high school sophomore, has a destiny and that is to be the Vampire Slayer. Each generation, there is only one Slayer who is chosen in her teenage years. Buffy’s path from high schooler to adult is an obvious one in age, but less obvious in other ways. This series is widely appreciated for its exemplars on serious issues such as depression, addiction, and death. Through these outlined examples, the mystical are used to illustrate the complex problems faced by ordinary people throughout their lives creating a series that is entertaining, serious, and relatable.

Buffy seamlessly interweaved the real world with the mystical to find a unique way to tell a story. This gave it a unique following due to the numerous subjects it tackled. “Buffy used the monsters that crossed into the human world through the Hellmouth as a metaphor for the horrors of high school, which in turn were a metaphor for the horrors of life in general” (Genzlinger 2017). Season Five is a great example of this. This season finds a way to weave interpersonal family dynamics with an otherwise outrageous storyline. While Buffy navigates a romantic relationship as well as being a big sister to a whiny teenager, she also must find balance in her role as the Slayer. One moment of distraction is all that is needed for someone to get the upper hand, a point which she is very familiar with after her brief death in the first season. As if all of that wasn’t enough, her mother then falls ill. Buffy had been surrounded by the reality of death for years now, but there is something vulnerable about it being your mother.

In a show usually filled with comedy to offset the seriousness, the episodes about Joyce Summers had a very different feel to them. The music is either very quiet or completely absent, only making the backdrop starker. In the hospital scene where it is revealed Joyce has a brain tumor, we are met with a close-up of Buffy’s face as the color drains and the sound falls away. Dr. Michael Bryant, who uses this scene in his medical classes comments “Patients’ minds often fixate onto the most serious condition possible, once told they have a brain tumour. Any other words become white noise and static, and float past on empty currents of dead air.” This portrayal of that heartbeat in your head feeling when confronted with news you cannot comprehend is relatable.

Episodes pass, and we are lulled into a false sense of security. Up to this point, we have lost characters but none this close to the main group. As I Was Made to Love You ends, you see Buffy arrive home, putting her jacket down and calling for her mom as the audience sees a blurry background behind. She turns, pulling this into focus as we see Joyce laying lifeless on the couch. Buffy calls her again, hoping for her to wake but the reality starts setting in. Her voice softening, she says “Mommy?”, a departure from the “mom” directly before as the screen cuts to black. Amidst the monsters and boogeymen of Sunnydale, they found the monsters we really face every day.

Throughout the season, Buffy is seen becoming unsure of her roles as parent, sister, and Slayer as they start to conflict. The episode Intervention begins to show Buffy’s depression and detachment forming. Buffy goes on a vision quest to find answers about her role while the Buffybot fools the rest of the Scooby Gang into thinking she’s the real deal. This is the first stark difference between the Buffy from season one and who she has become now. “The relentlessly cheery Buffybot functions as an idealized version of the Slayer, restoring something of the human Buffy’s youthful chirpiness and being used as an emotional substitute by Dawn who actually lies down on the bed next to her as if she were the real thing” (James 147). With a few exceptions, the Buffybot is able to take Buffy’s place in all roles of her life while also being more likable to her friends and family. Buffy’s resurrection at the beginning of the penultimate season is the final nail in the coffin before Buffy’s depression is shown in the foreground.

At the end of After Life, the audience gets the moment they have been waiting for. Buffy has her heart-to-heart with Dawn, thanks her friends for saving her from a hell dimension and there’s a group hug. She walks out the back door into the sun which is almost too bright, a reference to Buffy’s time in the afterlife. The speech that follows is one any Buffy fan will remember vividly. After Buffy’s sacrifice to save her family and the world, she was rewarded with Heaven. She was finally happy, loved and at peace. She was ripped away from perfection by the people in her life who love her most and they can never know. Knowing what she lost was already weighing on her as she mentions how everything on Earth is “hard and bright and violent” (“After Life” (41:42-41:47). As the tragic hero figure she is, the episode ends with her emphasizing that no one can know what she has shared.

Through the next few episodes, we see Buffy once again struggle with where she fits in. Buffy’s “rebirth” symbolizes her official birth in adulthood in many ways. The rest of the Scooby Gang has established their lives while she was gone. Everyone is in committed relationships, they have jobs or are in school and she is just the Slayer. Her new “enemies” in this season even comment that she is unfocused while jumping job to job. She is stuck in two roles she didn’t choose, despite the name “Chosen One”. It’s at this point she starts spending more time with Spike, the only one who seems to see her pain and understand how she feels. He understands more about the supernatural side of her that no one else can relate to. In Once More with Feeling, the musical episode, there is no disguising Buffy’s pain. Through the various songs she features in, she describes going through the motions and being unable to feel anything. Buffy’s secret is laid bare to the rest of the gang, forced to reveal she was in Heaven. Finally, she tells Sweets, the demon orchestrating these catchy numbers, to “give me something to sing about. Please, give me something” (43:48-44:00). Her depression has progressed to the point where she doesn’t feel like she has anything left. She immediately starts dancing, eventually spinning in circles progressively faster until she appears to start burning. An assisted suicide attempt in front of everyone she loves. Yet, Spike is the one who jumps in to save her, from the fires of Hell it seems, by telling her she has to keep on living. The episode ends on Buffy “getting the fire back” and kissing Spike, the beginning to a complex relationship between Buffy’s human and supernatural side.

Although the rest of the season primarily focuses on Willow and her addiction to magic, Buffy is still fighting her battles throughout. She takes a minimum wage food service job to make money since she is now the sole provider and has no qualifications she could put on a resume. Dawn starts acting out by stealing and sneaking out with boys, a cry for help and attention. Buffy is drowning too deep in all her own roles conflicting while also battling the lack of desire to do so to notice what is happening. In rapid fire, Buffy finds out about Dawn stealing, her ex-boyfriend shows up with a wife and Xander abandons Anya at the altar. Everything is completely in flux, but it is always her responsibility to hold everyone and everything together.

With Buffy as her most confused and detached, her best friend needs her the absolute most. Once again, things start getting back to normal when Tara is suddenly shot and killed. With Buffy also in critical condition, Willow no longer has the desire or ability to hold back her rage. From the beginning of the show, Buffy has many moments of powerlessness, but this time is different. Willow is stronger, faster and has nothing left to live for. This is also the ultimate betrayal to Buffy. Willow was her first friend when she came to Sunnydale and has been there through everything. Not only has Willow killed a human but has tried to kill Buffy’s sister and father figure. In Willow’s effort to kill her pain by giving further into her magic addiction by literally absorbing it from Giles, she can feel everyone’s emotions at once. A throwback to the third season when Buffy hears everyone’s thoughts after she’s infected by demon blood, we see how differently they deal with their depression.

As the season starts to come to an end, Buffy and Willow’s storylines diverge. Having handled their problems differently, it makes sense their paths parted, and they end them separately. Buffy and Dawn become trapped together in the Earth by Willow’s hand, in a similar way that she was forced to dig her way out earlier. The Summers sisters are forced to finally face each other and talk. Buffy comes to terms with the fact that Dawn is also becoming an adult like she did and shielding her isn’t the same as protecting her. Willow’s solution to the pain in the world, hers included, is to end the world. A departure from previous seasons, Willow cannot be defeated by magic or strength. Xander, the final piece of the trio and Willow’s friend from childhood, talks to her and reminds her of who she is. As Dawn and Buffy fight a parade of demons off side by side, Xander refuses to leave Willow’s side. Despite the threat of death and being pushed away, he continues to tell her he loves her after each lashing. Her power fades as she starts to feel again, crumbling to tears as the weight of all the pain and loss hits her. “When Willow took the power from Giles, she exulted in feeling ‘connected to everything’. But that connection was false, and it led Willow to try to end the world. Buffy found the true connection in her inner humanity” (Field 540). When the scene switches to Buffy, she breaks down in happy tears, happy she has time to fix everything she has neglected. Standing with her as they were both faced with death opened her eyes to how much she had been ignoring.

Although many viewers were understandably upset with the finale, it was important to the overall arc of Buffy Summers’ growth. As opposed to their usual triumphant ending where they beat the bad guy, their denial, pain, and grief were killing them instead. At some point, these feelings needed to explode in order to resolve. From these examples, we see two women who have gone down the same path but react differently to it. Having flawed characters who fight their demons, physically and metaphorically, in an unperfect way is important for young people and older alike. Showing vulnerability in a female character while also keeping her strong is a tough feat few writers have achieved. Buffy the Vampire Slayer does it time and time again. It is no surprise to the fanbase that there is a new show coming out. Into every generation, a Slayer is born, and this generation needs one to look up to too.

#buffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #Joss whedon #whedonverse #buffyverse #depression #addiction #psychology #essay #paper

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eleanore-delphinium · 4 years

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Reciprocate II

PART 1: Reciprocate I: Raven

PART 2: Reciprocate II: Damian (you are here)

PART 3: Finale: Reciprocate III: The After

Reciprocate II: Damian

In a sterile white room devoid of any color and of any indication of ownership or personalization from the owner of the room, laid a single figure on top of a white medical bed, white sheets tucked over her sternum. It was bright, and lonely and rather very empty—except for the pale woman with purple hair that reached just below her breast, on the bed. An empty chair on her right side and bedside tables with nothing on top, on either side of her bed. Her hands laid on her sides and her eyes close. There was no indication of movement except for her quiet breathing.

The door opens, to reveal Damian Wayne in a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks and black dress shoes. Despite his neat outfit, his hair was a mess and his eyes were blood shot with eyebags underneath. He looked as though he had not slept well at all—which was likely the case.

Afterall, he had not slept well since the day Raven got stabbed. There were good days and bad. Now—today was a better day. He walks to the empty chair beside Raven’s right hand, his back facing the door. He sits on the chair and gaze longingly at the figure on the bed.

And he recalled what had transpired that night—the night that caused Raven’s current medical condition.

Raven had fallen and her eyes slowly fluttering close. He could tell that she was trying not to lose consciousness. Raven lifted a hand towards Damian and Garfield’s general direction. And Damian couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to reach out to him or Garfield.

‘It had to be Garfield.’, he thought because it would not make sense if Raven was trying to reach out to him. Damian couldn’t help but feel very bitter inside. She would never choose him.

At this moment the creature was distracted by Tim who was on the other side, seeing this—Damian took the opportunity to run to Raven. He took note of the footsteps that followed behind him. Garfield was right behind Damian as they ran toward Raven.

Her raised hand was faltering and Damian felt as though his heart was about to jump out of his throat, out of fear.

No. You cannot close your eyes. I will not allow it! Damian ran faster towards Raven and as her hand fell to the ground, he finally reached her side. But her eyes had also closed, and Damian held his breath as he-- so very gently, held her in his arms.

“Raven! Raven!” He calls to her frantically. “No. No. No. Don’t close your eyes, please come back, stay conscious!” His breathing was ragged, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Damian bit his lip and held his breath in a conscious manner, as he tried to calm himself, and think. He had to think.

“We have to stop her bleeding.” Damian absent-mindedly say, his voice cold, and as he scanned Raven’s wound, his eye twitched. Raven had a gaping hole on her chest, Damian did not want to think about it—but the situation was truly grim.

“How are you going to—” Garfield received another glare from Damian.

Damian was not asking or seeking their help to stop Raven’s bleeding, he had said what he had said to inform them only. He will deal with Raven’s injury.

Damian reaches for something in his utility belt, and he pulls out three silver balls. His facial expression seemingly frozen into a cold and uncaring expression as he places the one-inch sized ball strategically on her gaping wound. He placed one on top and two at the bottom, forming a triangle. It beeps and glows a faint blue and came out a purple like foam.

He had no choice. This was the only way to ‘plug’ Raven’s gaping hole. She was losing too much blood because of it.

Damian clenched his teeth even more, if that was even possible. He rests Raven on his right arm as his hands clenched tightly. Underneath the gloves, one would have noticed how white his fist had become. His brows still tightly knit together, it looked painful to watch his brows like that.

And to Garfield and Terra, he looked like the scariest man on earth. They seemed to fear Damian more than the unbeatable monster that had stabbed Raven into this state.

Damian hated what he had to do. He hated that he had to plug Raven like this. He hated that he knew he had to put her down now. Now.

There was a moment of hesitance, but Damian bit his lip till it bled to keep his focus.

“We need to put Raven in a safe spot,” He says in a clipped manner as he picks Raven up in his arms in a princess carry, “distract that thing and keep him far away from her.” He continuous absent-mindedly as his eyes quickly analyze the best spot to hide her away.

And at the same time, he recalls her injury. There were no organs that were damage, that at least is a good thing. And he hoped and prayed-- at that same moment-- that Raven can survive this.

With Damian standing on his full length, Garfield snapped out from his frozen state and had begun to reach out for Raven once again.

Damian had accidentally hit Terra as he started moving, cutting Terra’s thoughts. For a second her eyes laid on the boy wonder—and to her, she did not see a hero protecting or saving someone. She saw a man holding someone in a way, that showed he was too afraid to hold any tighter in fear of losing her. A man refusing to blink, too afraid that it would be his last sight of her and that she would turn into dust any moment now. He held her in such a cautious manner—that it hurt to see him so forlorn like that.

Terra quickly turned, refusing to see Garfield’s expression—it was something she did not want to see right now.

“I will cover for you, Damian.” She tells him.

But she held on.

She held on.

He sighed again, as he turned his head that was resting on his right hand towards Raven.

Seeing her with so much tubes and monitor, some advance tech and some actual alien tech, hurt Damian in a way that a bullet shot could not compare. And he felt so helpless.

He held the woman he had loved for years in his arms, and had to leave her in her injured state to defend the world of the very same creature that injured her. He left her all alone in a corner—not even knowing if she would be alive when he returned. He knew that having someone guard her would be a waste of man power. He had to think of the bigger picture—because it is his responsibility, he couldn’t put her over that. And a small part of him hates himself for it.

He had seen her struggle to survive day after day, and night after night since then. The rejection her body faced—and his selfishness, thinking—hoping that she would survive it.

And she did.

“Raven, won’t you wake up already?” He mutters, he had gotten used to talking to himself whenever he visited her.

“I still planned to confess to you,” He chuckles emptily “Won’t you at least let me do that?” He brought her hand to his forehead. “Let me be selfish…”

~.~.~.~.~

The door to Raven’s personal room opens, revealing Damian in his robin uniform, his mask off. He walks to her in a slightly slump manner. Takes her hand on his and sighs.

“I’m sorry Raven, it appears that I can’t visit you for the unforeseeable future. Something came up.” He looks at her sleeping face sadly.

“Don’t be angry, I try to visit you every day after all, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes, but I never missed a day since you got injured.” He pauses. “If you ask me, I’m pretty sure they were lenient on my lack of participation in missions recently because I looked as if I had lost a lover.” He laughs.

“I will come back, I promise you.” He says as he reluctantly let go of her hand. He refused to look back as he left the room, and takes his mask from his utility belt and puts it on.

~.~.~.~.~

The door opens gently again as Damian Wayne in an all-black outfit walks in. He was in his signature black turtle neck. He had on a thin black framed eyeglass perched on his nose. He held a book on his left hand. He had gotten used to opening the door slowly and gently, out of the fear that when he opens the door she wouldn’t be there anymore.

At first, he thought that it was an unreasonable fear, but clearly it was not. He was afraid, that the time he wasn’t with her, she would have long been gone. And when he comes to visit, he would be greeted with an empty bed. And he would not be able to even say his farewells.

He closes the door even more gently—because when the door closes this time was theirs—well his. Because she was still unconscious—still very unaware of his presence.

“Hey Raven, I brought the book I last read to you—I have enough time today to read to you just a few chapters.” He says as he walks to his position beside her. He takes a seat on the chair and held her right hand with his right hand. “It would be nice if you woke up soon.” He smiles grimly, the words have started becoming something he said out of habit.

~.~.~.~.~

Raven was still lying unconscious in the white room, on her white bed. Everything was quiet inside.

“Damian it’s been almost eight months!” Came a voice from outside the room.

“So, what Grayson!” Yelled back the voice of Damian Wayne. He was in an argument right outside of Raven’s room with Dick Grayson, his adopted brother—also known as Nightwing.

“Are you serious Dami?” A pause. “At least let others see her!”

“By others you mean Garfield, right?” A loud bang was heard from inside the room.

“Well—shit, yes! Why won’t you let Gar see her? He has been asking about her or where she is.”

“Don’t you dare bring Garfield to see her—don’t you dare!” A furious reply from Damian as shuffling footsteps were heard.

“Look man, I get it. I really do. But Damian, you can’t just hide her away from her teammates.”

“You see her too.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” A louder bang entered Raven’s room.

“She planned to leave anyways.” Damian says defensively. There was silence for a few seconds and a frustrated humph could be heard from outside the room.

“I—I didn’t think anyone would be able to deal with seeing her in that way—I” Damian pauses. “I don’t think they’d want to see her in a coma—I thought it was for the best. I—I’m sorry Grayson, I will let them see her—but—just not Garfield, Grayson. That is all I am asking from you, just not him. He caused her enough pain.” And the door to Raven’s room opened. She still laid there asleep. Damian did not wait for Dick’s reply. He slowly closes the door behind him.

He was in a black button up polo shirt tucked into his black slacks, that was held into place by a silver belt and his black leather shoes. He looked tired and but there was no hint of anger.

“You must have heard our little argument, huh?” He says approaching the familiar chair he always sat on when visiting her. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.” He continues as he sat down on the chair and takes her hand in his again. “Of course, I didn’t disturb your sleep, after all your still unconscious.” A hollow chuckle soon follows.

Damian places the back of Raven’s hand against his forehead. “You can wake up now. Scold me for being so selfish. For not allowing Garfield to visit you. In fact, for not letting anyone else visit you aside from a select few. But—mostly Garfield. I will not allow him in here too— in this space-- so why don’t you wake up and just tell me how selfish I am.” He tilts his head to look at Raven while her hand is still pressed on temple of his head.

But as usual there was no response. He was so used to talking to himself now. At this point, Damian was very convinced that Raven had tried to reach out for Garfield, one last time, before she fainted. And the thought was something that caused him bitterness.

Even in her near-death, Garfield was the last in her mind.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian was sitting on the same chair holding Raven’s hand. Three months has passed since Damian and Dick’s heated argument outside of Raven’s bedroom. He wore a red hoodie with black pants and black shoes. This time around, for the first time, he looked less tired since this whole ordeal happened.

“It looks like you had a lot of visitors this month too.” He glances at the flowers on both bedside tables, pictures in frames of Raven with the team and other things. Now the room seemed to have a little bit of personality.

His lips hovering over her hand. He wipes the spot he kissed her at, with this thumb.

“I’m sorry, I should be asking permission. I didn’t—” He stared at the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I don’t know since when I started doing that, but I’m sorry. I overstepped.” He gently places her hand back on the bed and stood up. “Let’s see what’s in the drawers, shall we?” He mutters to himself. And surveyed every nook and cranny and objects in her room, keeping a mental inventory.

“We will be starting a new book soon. I no longer keep track of the books we’ve read.” He says after finishing his inspection of the room and went to sit back on the chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Well—I mean I keep track of the titles but no longer itemize them…” He adds quietly, he used to count them but stopped at around the fifth book because it seemed like the list would continue to grow. And seeing the number rise would just be another reminder of the fact, that the days waiting for Raven to wake was stretching to impossibility.

~.~.~.~.~

It was a little over a year since Raven has been in her comatose state. The room felt heavy and she stirred because of it. Her breathing a little louder—a little labored. Her eyes fluttered opened—her vision a blur. She saw two figures at the foot of her bed. The taller one looking at the shorter man. The shorter one was looking at her startled—he seemed to have an odd skin color. She could almost swear it was green. Raven’s eyes started to roll back to unconsciousness.

“Dick, she’s awake!” It was a familiar voice; Raven couldn’t help but think.

“What?” Dick turned to look at Raven her eyelids slowly closing, her labored breathing slowly quieting down.

“I saw her eyes open; I swear it!” She recognized the voice as Garfield, but knowing who it was did not give her any extra motivation to fight her sleepiness.

“Her eyes opened; I saw it!” Garfield says frantically, hoping that would ease Damian’s anger. Damian takes a glance at Raven—but she was at the same state he had last seen her in.

Comatose.

“I asked you one thing, Grayson!” He growls as he slowly stomped his way to Dick whose hands were up in a ‘I surrender’ way. Damian grabbed Dick’s coat collar and pulled him close. “One thing Grayson!” He shoved Dick and points at Garfield.

“Look—you can’t continue denying someone who wants to visit a friend.” Dick tries to calm his brother down as he straightens his coat.

“Friend?” Damian snorts in response.

“Look, Damian I begged Dick to bring me to her.” Garfield says and he received Damian’s angry glare.

“I’m sorry little D, we will talk about it outside.” Dick says as he drags Garfield out, giving Garfield a stern look to ensure Garfield’s silence. Garfield wasn’t happy but he understood that Dick was looking out for him.

Damian stood where he was, glaring at Raven as he waits for the door to close behind Dick and Garfield. He was stiff in his spot and his fists clenched so tightly. He was still very much angry. He stood like that for five more minutes before he tried to calm himself down. His fist unclenched and his brows unfurrow.

“So—well stop pretending then—his gone now—so wake up.” He demanded in a low voice as he hovered beside Raven near the chair. She did not move. And Damian laughed brokenly as he fell on his knees. He reached out for her right hand absentmindedly and rested his nose on the back of her palm.

“So, it turns out you just needed him to visit you to wake up?” Damian whispers as tears fall on her hand. “So why aren’t you awake already?” He sobbed.

It was never him—she never chose him.

~.~.~.~.~

It had been four months since Garfield have been regularly visiting Raven, and at times he would also bring Terra with him. Damian had conceded with Garfield’s wish to allow him visitation rights to see Raven. Damian could not stay angry at Dick for over two weeks, and the pair reconciled, despite Dick undermining Damian’s wishes. Damian understood that Dick was looking out for him.

His family knew he needed a little push to try and let Raven’s state go and pushing Damian to allow Garfield entry was the way to do it. Damian needed to move on.

But here he was again, in the white room he specifically prepared for her. Her accommodations all arranged by him, and his visits always a constant. But the past four months were difficult, as he was also actively avoiding having to meet Garfield when Garfield was visiting Raven.

When Damian was able to take a step back from his anger at what Dick did—he knew that his family did it to distract Damian—to keep him away from lurking around Raven. He understood it was made of good intentions. Damian reaches out for Raven’s hand, a habit he has come to develop long ago.

He wore a plain white shirt with jeans. His hair not as neat as it usually was, and eyebags were under his eyes yet again.

“But I guess I am a man who will only love one person in their life.” He mutters placing Raven’s hand against his right cheek. “I’ve come to wonder sometimes if I am unfortunate to be such a man—or to fall for you—” he studies her face; he has memorized every detail about her. How could he not when he was here, beside her so frequently.

“I’ve come to learn that loving you is not something to be regretful about. In fact, I am rather thankful for it. But you really got me pining over you, Raven.” He sighs, his eyes not capturing even the smallest of movement from Raven. “I love you.” He whispers and brushed his lips against the skin on the back of her hand.

A week and a half after, Damian is pacing at the foot of Raven’s bed, very much frustrated. He paused and glared at Raven, running his hands through his head, a sign of his developing anger. He stomps towards his spot as he glared at Raven again.

His hair was a mess, his eyebags had gotten darker. His clothes that was a plain black shirt with jeans had creases, very uncharacteristic of him.

“I don’t get it!” He says containing most of his anger. “You obviously woke up the first time Garfield visited you! Tsk, as it turns out, all you need was for him to visit you-- for you to wake up. So why did you go back to sleep!” His tone louder now and he sighs to try and dispel a little of his anger. His hand at his side clenched into balls.

“You really—really got me pining over you.” Damian says as he knelt on the floor with a hunched back as he takes her right hand in between his palms. “It’s funny how you pined over someone else as I pined over you—it seems that your making me pine over you just as long as you pined over him.”

The chair he usually sat on was across the room, toppled down. A droplet of water falls in front of Damian’s right knee.

~.~.~.~.~

Two months passed just like that. Raven’s friends had long since stopped visiting her as frequently as they did the first three months. Asking them to take so much time off of their busy hero life, was too much to ask for. But Damian always made time for her, and at almost a year and a half the toll of doing so had fully manifested.

He looked so tired, his eye bags in the darkest shade it had been since the accident. He looked thinner, not scarily thin, but it was obvious he had lost some weight. His clothes were as neat as it could be. His white button up shirt crisp and so is his black slacks. His black leather shoes very shiny. He placed a lot of effort in his appearance because even he could tell that his health has waned, and he was compensating with his clothes.

When Raven was in ICU for the first three months, he was in such a bad state. When she finally got relatively cured but was on comatose, he looked better-- more relaxed. Then a little after, he had to continue with his responsibilities, particularly as a hero and somehow, he managed.

But now at almost a year and a half of juggling hero life, personal and family life. Being with Raven almost every day since the night she got hurt. To actively avoiding Garfield while Garfield was visiting and arranging his own visits to go around Garfield’s visitation, but also keeping to his schedule and preference of seeing Raven on a very regular basis. And Raven still not waking up—Damian was quite spent.

Raven’s state was always at the forefront of his mind. And when he was in a mission, he tried to put it as a lesser priority. But when he is near to death his first thought is: If I die who will look after Raven? And so, he fights with every screaming fiber he had, even when he was in such excruciating pain. After all, he still had to see her wake up.

One would think a year and a half wasn’t really a long time—but it did not feel like it has been just over a year for Damian—it felt like he has been waiting for her to wake up for five years.

He had just realized quite recently, just exactly how much stress he had gotten due to all this. And it was taking a major toll on him. He now completely understood why his family was worried about it—about him. Hindsight after all is 20/20. And he now clearly sees, exactly how concerning his state was.

There was only one solution. His eyes flickered to Raven—he had not noticed that his gaze had drifted off of her and was surprised when his eyes laid on her again. He sighs and suddenly stands up, and picks up a lock of her hair.

“Raven, your hair has grown quite a bit—its already at waist level. I thought of having it cut—but I think that should be your decision.” He places it back down. “If you don’t wake up any time soon—I’m afraid I would have to let you go.” He mumbles to himself as he turned around to lean on the bed and gaze at the ceiling blankly.

Two weeks after, Damian was back in her room, looking even worst. This time he was just standing beside Raven with a very empty gaze. He had been standing there in his black slacks, black dress shoes and a green button up polo shirt for fifteen minutes already.

“I give up Rae.” He looks down on the ground. His words so soft because he was very much afraid of the implications himself. He knew he had to let her go.

~.~.~.~.~

“Now I have pined for you for the same duration, and I have decided to move on too.” He said grimly and the hint of playfulness he had prior was gone. “It really came full circle.”

It started from hints, to telling her absentmindedly, to repeatedly telling her every time he visits—until finally he was able to visit less. And because Damian turned his head, he missed the small twitched of Raven’s hand when he pulled his hand away, to look at her bedside.

There was silence, as he looked down and closed his eyes. He squeezes his eyes for a moment then sighs as he looks at Raven, a faint smile on his lips. He took a step back, feeling as though he was leaving his heart on this spot. He then turns feeling lonely yet strong and regretful at the same time.

When he was gone, Raven’s eyebrow twitched.

The next day when Damian decided to check on Raven’s condition, he was frozen in fear to see the scientist and doctors hovering over Raven who was attached to so many monitors and tubes.

“Sir—we need you out of the way.” A doctor pulled Damian away. “Who let this one in!” The doctor adds and a nurse took Damian away, trying to console him.

“This is odd—there seems to be no traces of the compound we found last time. But her body is rejecting something.” Damian hears the doctor say, at that moment Raven’s eyes opened and her line of sight fell on Damian’s instantly. Her hand lifted slowly to his direction; her eyes wet as her face slowly turned red from the lack of oxygen. A doctor had already punctured her lungs to assist her in breathing, but black blood was oozing out from it.

“Raven!” He called out as he knelt on the floor and held her right hand that she had stretched out. “I promise, I will not leave you. So, you have to fight this!”

She squeezes his hand in hers as best as she could as her eyes closed and a tear slipped from her eye.

“Sir—I’m sorry but you are being a distraction.” A bulky man approaches Damian, he lets go of Raven’s hand and put his hands up. And slowly left the room.

“She’s—I heard the subject has powers—”

“Patient.” A doctor cuts off the scientist.

Before Damian was shoved out of the room, he stole a glance of Raven, her hand was glowing a faint purple black hue. And it seemed that she could breathe.

“Sir—there seems to be something appearing—” And that was the last thing Damian heard before the door was shut close.

Damian was sitting on his chair, holding her hand. He wore a white t-shirt with many creases. His hair a slightly better case compared to his shirt. And the outfit was complete with a plain pair of jeans and casual shoes. And to top it all off, his eyebags had become dark again.

”You really scared me. God, I forgot how afraid I was of losing you recently—you really know how to make someone remember, huh?” He mutters as he puts her hand against his forehead, he was shaking a bit, as he fought his tears. And he felt her hand twitch against his—and he choked as he looked at her face.

“You reached out to me that night, didn’t you?” He put her hand against his cheek as he turns his head towards her again. “You have to wake up and clarify that to me.” And he hears her loudly inhale.

For the first time in months, he finally had hope that she would wake up. “I promise you; I will wait for you to wake up. This time, I will not break this promise.”

~.~.~.~.~

The door suddenly opens, with a panic stricken, Damian. He was unable to take off his outer coat and change into cleaner shoes because he heard a crash from generally where Raven’s room was located on the second floor.

“Raven!” He called out his fear practically at the base of his throat.

When he heard the loud crash, he feared for the worst. His eyes at first saw an empty bed, and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. The vase on her right bedside table with flowers, had shattered on the floor. He quickly searched for Raven, and exhaled deeply when he spotted her at the foot of her bed. She was holding onto her bed with great difficulty. Her eyes observed Damian wearily.

He approached her, thinking that maybe this was a dream.

“Raven.” He whispered when he was two feet away, her violet eyes did not show any recognition at seeing Damian. He picks her up and carries her in a princess carry, and despite not recognizing him at first, she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Damian.” She whispers and he squeezes her back. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, as he carried her back to her bed. He sets her down gently as he pulls away, she grabs his right hand.

“It feels so perfect.” She gently tells him, and Damian was startled by her words. A smile slowly forms and he found himself chuckling.

“I’ve been here almost every day, holding your hand. Maybe your hand molded into mine—” He shakes his head. "Or maybe the other way around.”

“I—my memory is kind of fuzzy,” Raven says as she lays back in bed. “But I know you, I remember you. I heard you so often. It became scary when you weren’t there.” Her eyes start to flutter, she seemed a little bit too tired. But she continued to hold his hand until she fully fell into slumber, to which her grip loosened.

Damian took the opportunity to call the doctors and scientist to inform them of her condition.

When she awoke again the doctors, scientists and Damian were talking.

~.~.~.~.~

She had found out that this was one of Bruce Wayne’s property, and Damian had asked for the property. Damian was someone who would never ask anything of anyone if he could do it himself, so it was surprising to everyone that Damian had asked something. And because of that Bruce granted Damian the property, if not for that, in the very least to give Damian some peace of mind.

She also found out that Damian did not spare any expense in her recuperation. And her situation was quite odd. The creature’s origin could not be quite narrowed down, thus its effects on her was up on the air. But that was where the doctors and scientists and all the tech was for, alien tech included. With the collective resources provided, they were able to make something to assist Raven’s condition.

“Raven, I think you should really try to get out.” Damian says as he walks in. He looked so happy seeing her, just standing by the window gazing out. She turned her head to smile at him.

He looked better—in fact the happiest and relaxed he had ever been for two years. His clothes were pressed well, it was a casual attire, and he had no hint of any kind of weariness. No more eyebags, and his eyes no longer looked so dead.

“If you go with me, I can try.” She responded, she had not seen him in two weeks due to his busy schedule, with the team and talking to her doctors and scientist. Him learning and relearning everything about her condition since she got attacked, and he also had family matters, he didn’t really have time to be with Raven recently. And she understood.

She kept herself busy by building her physical strength through walking within the walls of Damian’s villa. She also used the time to comb through her thoughts.

“Okay.” He agreed as he offered her his right hand and she accepts it with both her hands. Until now he couldn’t believe that she was awake.

“I really thought I was dreaming when you woke up a month ago.” He confesses again as he sighs and lead her to the door.

“I’m here. Everything is still a bit fuzzy. But I know you—I trust you. Your Damian.” Raven responds unhurriedly as she places a hand on his arm.

Fifteen minutes later, Damian came in with Raven in his arms weeping.

“I—I can’t… it—it…” And she wept.

“I’m sorry, we will take it step by step. I will be here if you ever want to try and go outside.” He comforts her as he places her on her bed. She nods as he wipes away her tears.

“I thought I was going to die—” She sobbed. “There was something I wanted to do… I don’t—” Another sob, “I don’t recall what.”

He holds her hands and then she suddenly froze on the spot. She looks at him in the eyes, and she blinks as the tears fall. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

And this time it was his time to freeze on the spot. Raven pulled her hands away from his, and she placed her fingertips on either side of his face.

“I was afraid that I didn’t have enough time with you. I wanted to know you more.” Her vision seems to go back to that night. “I wanted to be with you.” She absent-mindedly brushed her lips against his. And when the pressure registered in her brain, she pulled away, an apology at the tip of her tongue.

Raven was surprised to feel an even heavier pressure against her lips. And she kissed back and deepened the kiss. She noted how she was reacting very naturally over the situation, and how inexperience Damian was. And she pulled away.

“Is this your first kiss?” She asks him. And he looks away with a small blush on his face.

“It’s—I’m very inexperience with dating…” He admits, and she observes him as she wipes her tears.

“I’m assuming, I have dated before.”

“Yes, Garfield.” He responds blankly, and when the name came off Damian’s mouth, he saw her expression soften. His eye twitched as he looked away. He suddenly feels her hands against his, making him turn to look at her again.

“Gar… field…” She mutters, his hand clenching at the way she called his name. “Was he the only one I dated?” Damian nods in response.

“I see…” She said with furrowed brows. “My head is aching a bit. I think I should rest…” Raven lets go of Damian’s hands.

“Can we try going outside again tomorrow?” Damian was pulled out from his reverie with the inquiry, surprise in his eyes.

“Of course, I would love that.” She smiled at his response.

“Can you—” She looks at him hesitatingly. “Can you hold my hand when we do?”

He was even more shock to hear those words, and he smiled as he placed a hand on her cheek. “Of course, Raven.”

“I would like to date you, Damian.” Raven stares at Damian, who just pulled his hand away from her cheek and straightened his posture as he looks away.

“Your memory isn’t like what it was Raven, I think it’s too early to say that.” His response wasn’t something she enjoyed. But Raven pressed her lips together and did not push him.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian and Raven was continuing a pleasant conversation they had outside, when suddenly the door opened.

“Raven!” Garfield came in with such a relieved look on his face, his eyes expectant as he searches for her. Damian and Raven’s happy conversation grew stale as they turned their head to the door.

“Raven!” He called out again when his eyes landed on her. Raven remained in place. “Of course, you wouldn’t tell me she is awake!” Garfield adds with a glare to Damian, whose head was casted down.

“Tsk, Greyson.” He mutters, Greyson right behind Garfield but was hidden from Damian’s line of sight. Despite Damian’s head casted down, he took note of Raven’s reaction.

She was still, just standing in place, but Damian could tell, she was so close to running to Garfield and hugging him. And all Damian could do was squeeze his eyes shut, as he inhales softly while clenching his fists.

The days had passed so pleasantly after Raven woke up that Damian had thought that he had a place in her heart. But seeing her like this, he knew—Garfield still outweigh him.

“Get out.” Raven says, to which Damian snapped his head to Raven’s direction, who had simply turned her back and walked to the window. “All of you.”

Damian wanted to say something, his fists curling and uncurling by his sides, but he saw her stiff figure with crossed arms as she stubbornly looked outside. He was the last to leave.

He comes back a few hours later, to see Raven sitting by the windowsill looking outside.

“He hasn’t left has he?” She whispers hoarsely not looking at who entered. Damian shook his head as he replied, even though she would not see it.

“His downstairs, hoping you’d at least see him.” He got no response, but she tilts her head.

“I didn’t see him leave.” She mutters vacantly.

“I’m here to convince you to eat dinner.” And Raven turned to look at him, a frown on her face.

“Okay,” She sighs. “But you are eating with me.”

Damian was startled hearing this, a second passes before the words sunk in.

“Alright.” He blinks at her.

“Here.” She adds and he tells her he that he would be back, as he leaves for a moment to get them their dinner.

When he arrives with food, they sat on a pub table that was added a little after Raven woke up. It could only sit two people, and it was made of some nice honey brown wood. The cushions of the chair red and its frame made of the same wood as the table. It was rather small for two people, but they made do.

Raven was vacantly playing with her food while Damian observes her with a frown. He had not yet scolded her for not eating, as he was giving her just a little more time.

With a sigh she says, “It’s odd, when I saw him, it felt like I just realized the world was a puzzle with missing pieces, and his presence just made all the missing pieces appear on it’s designated place. He was familiar, he was someone I knew—love, maybe even… but something didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to approach him. And I didn’t want him to approach me.”

~.~.~.~.~

When the minutes passed, and Garfield nor Raven had not pull away from one another, his face contorted to wanting to storm out from Raven’s room to staying still and just holding his breath—just hoping and wishing—that she had not chosen Garfield.

But the minutes continues to pass, and Garfield’s hand continued to rest on Raven’s hand. And Raven glances at him with a smile forming on her lips. And Damian couldn’t help but think, that despite Raven having a difficulty leaving the building with him, if it was Garfield with her—of course it would be easier for her to be outside with him.

And Raven started closing in on the space between her and Garfield, and Damian did not want to see that. So, he turned around quickly, and he stood with his back against them, as he flexes his fists, and sighed. He had hurried to see her; he had gone through the garage so he was unable to see them on the yard. Once he got into her room, and she wasn’t there, Damian absentmindedly walked to the window. That was when he saw her and Garfield together on a bench, looking like lovers.

He wondered how long he stood by the window looking at them. He closes his eyes and sighs again, by the end of the day it was never him. He walks to the door without looking back.

Raven buried her hands on her face as the tears started to stream from her eyes. All she could see under her close eyes, was the time—that night, when she reached out for Damian.

She recalled her desire to be with Damian, but right now she felt it so very intensely that she was afraid. She was so afraid that she has lost that chance. And the door opened, and she was up on her feet with wide eyes. Seeing that it was Damian, she sobbed as she ran towards Damian and tackled him with a hug.

He was startled and it took a moment for him to realize that she was hugging him so tightly. He gently returns her hug.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back. I was so scared.” She wept on the nook of his shoulder, her feet not even touching the floor.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He replied softly, and tightened his hold on her as he sets her down a bit so that she could touch the floor. They stood like that for a moment.

Raven eventually pulled away and tried to collect her bearings. She wipes her tears and looked at Damian in the eyes. On the other hand, he was wishing she hadn’t pulled away-- maybe that was the only time he could hold her like that. And she reaches for his hands. And it felt so right.

“I forgot the time I was injured, till the time before he held my hands. It felt like I could breath again.” Damian’s eye twitched, he wondered what was her point. She suddenly flicked her head to look at him, and he was startled.

“He will always be someone that matters to me, we will always have history. I have loved him for nine years, we shared so many memories—so many firsts. But I do not want to be with him. I want to be with you. And I know I am asking a lot, but if all these doesn’t bother you—I would love it, if you would date me.” But she was greeted with silence. “I want you. I want to be with you.” She softly added, her confidence fading.

“I don’t mind.” He said so softly, but Raven didn’t hear it.

“If that is an issue for you, then I completely understand.” She continues on.

“I don’t mind.” He repeated.

“I know it’s been two years, but there must have been someone you became interested in. Or maybe you’ve even dated a bit. I know we don’t talk about it, but I get that—” She squeezes her eyes, her tone ready to cry.

“Raven, I want to be with you.” He cups her cheek and tilted her head towards him. She looks at him with the slightest hint of distrust. “I’ve always wanted to be with you—I waited for you.” He says, being able to say those words felt like such a relief to Damian. And the tears started falling from Raven’s eyes as the distrust was washed away.

“I almost gave up, I admit that.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her anymore. She cups both of his cheeks.

“If I were in your place, even I would waver.” She tells him, trying to catch his dodging eyes. When she finally was able to lock her eyes with his, she adds. “Garfield will always have some meaning to me—his all I have known for nine years, even before sleeping for two years—my history with him is half of my life. I was afraid. I thought he was the only one who could possibly love someone like me—I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I want my next memories and moments-- with you. And slowly those memories I had, and my history with him, will just be a fraction of my life. I want you. I want every possible milestone with you, Damian.”

He slowly nodded, and when Raven’s eyes registered the nod, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle.

“I never thought this day would happen.” He leans in to rest his forehead against hers, and a soft smile formed on her lips. And they shared the moment in silence. After a while, Damian talks.

“I was afraid to ask, or open up about this, especially since you were still recuperating—and your memories is fuzzy. But who would have thought you would catch me by surprise and open up the topic yourself?” Raven took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips, and he conservatively kissed back to which she deepened the kiss. And she pulled away recalling Damian’s inexperience last time.

“We will take it step by step. I might still remember more about Garfield, and I might get a little confused. But remind me, that I choose you since that night.” She leans her forehead against his, eyes locked with one another. Damian’s eyes flickered with surprise and the confirmation that she chose him that night, made his eyes soften with the acknowledgement. He caresses her face with his thumb.

“I finally caught up to you.” He whispers, a giggle bubbling up on the base of Raven’s throat.

~.~.~.~.~

A few months later, the white almost vacant room was no longer white nor empty. Raven had flipped the room with Damian’s help and approval. Its walls were now a soft lilac color. The room’s furniture was either accented with white, glass or silver metals. And the ceiling was littered with little crystals, that once the lights were off, would illuminate like stars in different colors. Her sheets were navy blue and white.

“Of course!” She replied happily, as she ran towards the door, and tackled Damian with a hug and giggled.

“Excited for our brunch?” He teases.

“Absolutely!” She replied without missing a second.

Later that night they were in her bedroom. Damian sitting on her bed and she was kneeling over his lap. Raven’s hair slowly unravelling from its braid. Their lips have been intertwined with one another for minutes now. He had one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, a bit too afraid to rest it on her bum. While her hands were on his neck and on his chest.

Raven broke off the kiss, and started kissing his neck.

“If we’re going too fast, you can tell me.” She mutters in between kisses. But when she did not hear any response, she pulled away to look at him.

“I know Garfield and I had a lot of firsts together, if that bothers you…” Damian broke away from his dazed state and looked at her questioningly.

“I admit, at first it did,” His eyes follow his hand as in travels from her thigh to her waist which he caresses. “Thinking of how he knows how to please you…” He looks back at her conflicted eyes. “But that just means I have to learn how to please you my way. You two were together for so long—it would be a given that I’m not your first. That is alright. But you are mine.” He admits a small blush on his face. And she smiles as she kisses his eye and trailed kisses to his jawline. He was being brought back to his dazed state.

“I feel honored.” She whispers in between her kisses. And she playfully bit his ear after. Damian was startled and grabbed her butt and she gasped.

“Then I will take the lead then.” She whispered alluringly by his ear, as her hands travelled under his shirt. Her braid completely undone.

FIN.

(Or is it?)

Bonus Scene:

Garfield and Raven were outside, they had been talking for hours that the sun had finally began to set.

“You know, when I woke up, I couldn’t find myself to walk out my room. Eventually, I was able to overcome it. But I found that it was so difficult to step outside the villa. All I could see was that night and being stabbed, and the last person I saw.” Raven confesses and Garfield placed a hand on hers for comfort.

“But Damian was there, he guided me and stayed with me as we walk outside.” A small smile on her lips. “I always held him like I was in open water and he was the lifeboat. I was afraid of losing him. I mean, I still am. I still hold him so tightly, because I’m afraid that it would be my last chance with him. I thought I was going to die that night, Gar.”

“But when you offered your hand and held me, after you said you knew of my condition—my fear outside.” She glances at the open area. “I forgot how afraid I was of going outside. It was like my fears these few months were nothing but a phantom. You were always associated with love and happy memories with me. But you and I both know, Gar, we were imperfect. We were destructive. We had become unhappy together for a very long time.” And she glances at him fully.

“I want to say goodbye.” She finally said, and Garfield looked at her gently as Raven extended her arms to hug him. “I want to start a new romance—with Damian.” She whispers as they embrace one another.

“I wish you two happiness.” Garfield says as he pulls away.

“Yes, thank you.” She looks back at Damian’s villa. “I was so afraid I would lose him, I still do now, its why I always hold him tightly whenever we go outside.” She looks back at the sunset that was facing them.

“I held on because of him—I’m sure it was him, I could feel his hand and hear him every now and then, until all I knew was his presence.”

Alternate (timeline) Ending:

Damian was asleep on the table, and had woken up with a jolt, all teary eyed.

“Damian, what’s wrong?” Raven says as she approaches the table.

“I had a dream, you got injured and you were in a coma.” He replied. And he tells her what happened in his dream.

Alternate’s Alternate Ending: (Reciprocate timeline)

“I had a dream, you got injured and you were in a coma.” He replied as Raven sat down beside him. She gently places a hand on his as she smiles softly.

“Damian, that did happen.”

Finale: Reciprocate III: The After

#ANTIBBRAE #DAMIRAE #Damian Wayne #Raven #Robin x Raven #Teen Titans #Young Justice #alternate universe #beastboy x terra #unrequited love romance #AGE GAP of 3 years OLDER female YOUNGER male #love has many forms #demonbirds #PINING IS A SICKNESS #COMATOSE for 2 YEARS #Will wait till forever #alternate endings

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jadekitty777 · 6 years

Text

Sparks...

Day 1 – First Date for @rwbymlmweek

Summary: Tai’s not really sure how he ended up at one of the fanciest restaurants in town but he’s certain the evening was gearing up to be an absolute disaster. And then his date arrived and the evening wasn’t so terrible after all. [Modern AU]

Pairing: Taiqrow with past relationships mentioned

Rating: K+

Note: I certainly won’t be able to contribute to every day of MLM week as I found out about it too late to properly prepare. Hopefully these quickly written pieces I managed to knock out will still be enjoyable to read! Also, perchance look out for Part 2 (and the rest of the title) of this story later on in the week ;)

Tai pulled at his collar nervously as he pushed open the door of the five-star restaurant, feeling utterly out of place the second he stepped into the high-class establishment. It had all the glitz and glamor he would have expected of such a place. Soft lightning by gigantic chandeliers overhead. Tables dressed with silk tablecloths and freshly cut flowers. Picturesque balcony seating overlooking the bay. Piano music being played at the center of the room, creating a gentle atmosphere. And here he stood, in the middle of all this grandeur, in nothing but a twenty-dollar suit and worn out dress shoes. He was pretty sure the silverware they set the tables with was worth more than his house.

The hostess behind her stand gave him a smile, teeth all brilliantly white and her face elegantly painted, voice like liquid honey as she said, “Welcome, you have a reservation?”

Somehow. He thought to himself. Had he not made a promise to see this whole thing through to the end, he certainly would have questioned upper management on how they allowed a twelve-year-old to make an appointment. “Yes. Under Xiao Long?”

She gave her register a quick glance and nodded. “Ah yes, for two. Your guest hasn’t arrived yet, but it will be my pleasure to show you to your table.”

“Thank you.” Tai followed her, secretly hoping he was in some dark, secluded corner of the room.

He wasn’t, but he wasn’t on the balcony either so at least he could count some small blessings. He accepted the leather-bound menu and flipped through it absently, hoping to find the one item in there that was both affordable but wouldn’t immediately tip off his mystery date that he wasn’t exactly well off. Anticipation built as the minutes passed and by the time he had both ordered and gotten his water, his leg was tapping an agitated rhythm on the carpet and he couldn’t stop fiddling with the gold tassel cord tied neatly around his napkin.

Come on, get a grip. Tai chastised, tightly folding his hands on the table and planting his feet. He managed to stay like that for a good half a minute until he was prodding at the teardrop orchids in the crystal vase in front of him. They must have been more delicate then they had appeared, because one touch and several blossoms fell off the stem and scattered along the table. He panicked, trying to quickly gather them up and throw them back in the vase.

And of course, that was the moment his date showed up. “Tai?”

Hands full of tiny flowers, he turned around at that oh-so familiar voice, wide red eyes staring back at him in shock. “Well.” Tai said, lifting his hands towards the other. “This is orchid.”

Qrow stared down at the bouquet and burst into laughter.

Ten minutes later found them still chuckling away over a bottle of the cheapest wine they could order. Placing down his glass, Tai grinned across at his best friend. “Alright, I gotta know. How did Ruby convince you?”

“Well the first thing she started to bribe me with was cleaning her room.” Qrow replied, red liquid swirling as he swiveled his wrist. “When I told her no, she says ‘I thought you might say that’ and pulls out this scroll she made. Like, she taped a bunch of notebook pages all together and wrapped the ends around some rolling pins and everything!” He set aside his wine to hold his hands up in a mimic of what the fifth grader must have looked like. “So, she just goes down the list and starts off like this every time: ‘if you go on this date, I decree I’ll-’.” He guffawed, lowering his arms. “It was pretty adorable. I stopped her after, I dunno decree seven or something, but I saw the rest of it later and I gotta tell you, I really missed out. I could have gotten out of Christmas gifts this year!”

“Ah, missed opportunity.” Tai said, clicking his tongue in mock sympathy. “I’m getting free chores for a month and no more acting out in class. I thought Yang was just trying to get me out of the house, but this is even more sneaky. Can you just imagine them planning this all out? I can just hear her now:” He tried to inflict a bit of the youthful punch to his tone that his precious sunny dragon’s always held, “’If our dads go on a romantic dinner date, they’ll fall in love and get married, then we can live together again!’”

His friend lifted up his wine. “To our conniving daughters.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They clinked their glasses together, both taking a hearty swig.

“So,” Qrow started, giving a glance down at the menu, then stage-whispered his way, “What the hell are we going to order anyways?”

It was Tai’s turn to burst into laughter.

“You know, I’m really glad it was you.” Tai said, breaking the light lull that had fallen after they had gotten their food.

“What do you mean?” Qrow asked.

He tapped his fork on the edge of his plate, saying more to his dinner then to the other, “It’s just. This. Dating again. I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the idea after – well, you know.” He heard a soft hum of acknowledgment, something bitter in its tone as there always was. While Tai had done his best to move on from the atrocious events that led to his divorce and complete estrangement from Raven, Qrow had never been able to find it in himself to forgive his twin sister for what she had done. He was probably going to take that rage to the grave with him.

“Anyways,” He said, not wanting to focus on that. If he wanted to go back bemoaning those years, he could call back up his therapist. He was sure Glynda would be thrilled to hear from him again (or kick his ass in gear; she was always polarized like that). “I mean, I was really anxious, okay? But when I found it was you, well, it made me feel instantly better.”

“Wow.”

That tone of awe had him glancing up at last, knowing that teasing grin a mile away. And like a mouse too eager for the cheese, he walked right in the trap. “What?”

“So basically, I’m the only person in the world you feel comfortable enough to date.” He lent forward, pulling on all the charm as he curled a hand under his chin and winked at him. “You flatter me Taiyang.”

“Qrow!” He ducked his blushing face as the other snickered at him. “You jerk.”

He figured the other would take a few more potshots at him, so he was surprised at the soft, “I get what you mean. I almost drove back out of the parking lot when I got here.” Qrow wasn’t looking at him anymore as he stared distantly towards the window, hands clasped back on the tabletop.

Tai stared at the way the other’s fingers absently brushed along his old wedding band, before aiming the other with a gentle smile. “Well. Thanks for not standing me up.”

It took a moment for that glazed look to pass, but when it did the other was smirking all over again. “Well, they do say it’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”

“I swear I’m going to punch you.”

Now, they were both laughing.

As they walked together to their cars, Qrow shot him a sidelong glance, saying, “So, I’m thinking if we don’t want our girls to keep playing The Parent Trap on us, we probably should try and make more playdates for them.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Tai sighed, running a hand across the back of his neck. After living together for half a decade, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Due to all the hardship both their families had to suffer through, Ruby and Yang ended up becoming practically inseparable. Therefore, when Qrow had announced he wanted to move back to his own home, they both knew it would be hard on their daughters. Especially Ruby, whose isolating nature mirrored her father’s. They held out on the hope that it would be the push she needed to break out of her shell a bit more if she couldn’t cling to her cousin all the time.

It was obvious that it was probably doing more harm than good if they were acting out in such a creative way.

“And,” There was a jangle of keys as Qrow dug them out of his pocket, trying to seem busy with that as he tacked on, “Maybe a few more for ourselves?”

Tai almost tripped over his own feet. “Wait, what?”

“Hah, jeez.” He ran his free hand through his hair, trying to hide the shaking. “Calm down, I was just joking.”

He stopped. After a few paces, his friend did as well, turning back for him. Tai waited a few beats before saying softly, “I’d love to go on another date with you Qrow. A real one. If that’s what you really want too.”

“I-… I do. it’s just,” Red eyes averted as he faltered, the inner conflict written all over his face.

Tai crossed the distance between them, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay not to be ready. You know that, right?”

“It’s been five years.”

“And who said there was a time limit?” Qrow’s sigh was so frustrated that the sound of it pained Tai. He could sympathize with how he felt because he’d felt it so many times himself, though undoubtedly on an entirely different level. That pressing desire to move forward but feeling like taking that first step was the most impossible thing to do; a looming uncertainty and shame that weighed on the shoulders from wanting something more; that terrifying finality of leaving something behind that could never come back.

But Tai also knew that once the first step was taken, the next was easier. That by giving into one small desire at a time, the weight slowly would lift. And while some things did get left behind, it wouldn’t leave things as broken as the fear claims it will. Sometimes, it was the only way to really heal.

“Look, no one can tell you you’re ready except yourself.” He continued, knowing from the slight tilt of the other’s head that his friend was listening. “And if you never are, that’s okay too. You’re the only one who chooses which direction your life takes and what you have in it. If you want to have a romantic relationship again, great. If you don’t, also great. Whatever you decide to do, just make sure it’s not holding you back from being happy.”

Some of the tension had leaked from Qrow’s shoulders and when he faced him again, his smile was there, if a bit crooked. “Heh, guess I needed to hear that more than I thought I did. When’d you get so wise anyways?”

“Years of therapy.” He joked. The fact that it was the truth only made it more hilarious.

And while they left the parking lot that night without an agreement of another date, the possibility of what might be someday left an unpredicted but wonderful spark of hope in Tai’s heart.

#taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #Taiqrow #rwbymlmweek #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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reyloromance · 6 years

Note

So I have a friend who doesn’t believe in/think there will be a Kylo redemption. I need to talk to him more but he says that the Reylo “theory” is gone too. He has seen TLJ. I obviously ship it, and after TLJ I felt like Reylo was more real than ever. I guess he didn’t see it that way. so I was wondering if you had some ideas of what I could tell him so he doesn’t think I’m crazy for still believing in it. 😂

Hello friend! Okay I’ll see if I can help you out but I am no expert sorry! Haha

“Darkness rises and Light to meet it” - Snoke refers to them as equals so we know their stories are intertwined.

They both saw a future together when they touched hands. This is the most obvious point indicating they will have a lot more to do with each other in the next episode, that they might eventually team up (whether it’s the dark, light or grey side who knows). They both saw it.

Both Rey and Kylo develop a deep understanding of each other over the course of TLJ

They both literally told each other the other wasn’t alone.

THEY TOUCHED HANDS and it was extremely intimate.

In TFA instead of Kylo trying to outright kill Rey, he wanted to be her teacher, recognizing her power and potential.

The force bond. There is no way reylo just ended after going through all this learning and bonding with each other. A connection like this in a movie is done with purpose and as we see at the end of TLJ, the force bond still remains.

The ending of TLJ was quite open ended for me. Seeing Kylo kneeling in front of Rey in their last moments together and Rey closing the door on him. There was no hate in either of their eyes. It’s not over yet.

Nobody introduces a rather intimate and sexy shirtless scene between two characters without there being intentional undertones of sexual attraction. Like… C’mon.

Kylo literally asked Rey AGAIN to join him…

“Please” that was serious pleading, no forcing Rey to join him, it was all her choice - he asked her.

When they both went after Luke’s light saber, it broke exactly in half. They are each other’s match, each other’s equal.

Leia assuming her son was lost and Luke telling her that no one is ever truly lost. I think we can assume that Kylo/Ben is not truly lost, I mean what is he actually going to do now as Supreme Leader? He has no true apparent motives anymore other than the vague “rule the galaxy” thing. His father is dead, Luke is dead, the resistance has been almost decimated, he killed Snoke. The goal to restore order to the galaxy is not his goal that was his mentor’s. There is so much more to his story that we will see in the next episode.

Rey literally dropped everything and sent herself TO Kylo because she believed he could still be turned.

Rey believing Ben is the resistance’s only hope - like the way Obi-wan was. That he could help change everything.

Kylo/Ben endured years of Snoke breaking him down, influencing him, manipulating him. He also had people in his life let him down at the same time like Luke not believing in him, his absent father etc. Two weeks of someone trying to help him isn’t going to magically change him - but Rey made a huge difference anyway. And that could lead to so much more.

The entire series thus far (TFA, TLJ) the idea that Kylo is extremely conflicted and that he still feels the pull to the light has been shoved down our throats, repeated constantly. So how can anyone not believe there is a chance he will be redeemed? When the seed of light is still there. I don’t think he has once been portrayed as the ultimate evil. And if Vader can change, so can this young man who is influenced even more by the light.

Reylo vs. the Praetorian Guards!!! We have seen them at odds and now we see them in an alliance. It was beautiful, it was like they were dancing together. Rey saved Kylo’s life.

There is so much more to their relationship. They understand each other, they’ve learnt things about each other, they’ve helped each other learn things about themselves. They are at odds sometimes. A lot is complicated. But they don’t hate each other. They will keep trying.

It is the second movie in the trilogy. The next episode will be the sum of what is to happen between these two characters. It wouldn’t make sense for Kylo to be redeemed at the end of the second episode. We need there to be conflict in the third episode which will eventually be resolved.

Hope that is okay!

#sorry it is so long #im no expert #reylo #benrey #tlj spoilers #reyloromance #anon

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bangtanfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Secret relationship || 01

Next part

♢ Pairing: Jungkook x Celeb!Reader

♢ Word count: 5.7 k

♢ Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive and tiny bit of angst.

⌲ Description: Not only is Y/N a famous singer in America, up in the ranks with people like Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande. But she’s also dating a k-pop idol...in secret.

A/N: Geez I’ve been writing this one shot for two days straight now, along with editing a lot of pictures for it to make it seem more realistic for you guys. Hope you’ll enjoy it! It’s supposed to be a one shot, but I might make more of this couple if you want! Maybe where they go public? ;) Who knows, just give me a shout and it might happen <3

Some people might wonder what could be worse than going hungry.

That’s easy.

It’s being woken up when you were deep within the dream landscape in a wonderful daze. That is until someone thought it funny to slap a pillow on her face.

Y/N groaned loudly and opened her tired eyes to glare at her manager that stood beside her bed. She was looking bright and ready to go on with her day, unlike the girl sprawling on the bed.

“You get up at this moment missy!” Her usual cheerful voice said sternly, with hands on her hips.

Her name was Elizabeth. A woman in her late thirties bordering on forty. Despite her age she looked just as youthful as ten years ago. Her skin was light and flawless of any wrinkles, and her blonde hair was held up in a trendy bun. She had been the manager of the lazy girl since the very beginning when she was discovered by her current agency. The woman quickly took the girl under her wing and became a somewhat surrogate mother when she was separated from her real one.

“Noo, i’m sleepy!” Y/N whined and pulled the duvet over her head in protest.

“Do you know what time is it?” Elizabeth frowned, not that the girl could see it.

“Too early to be awake…” was the mumbled reply.

“It’s three thirty! In the afternoon.”

The girl in question let out a exasperated sigh before removing the warm duvet and peered up at her manager. “I still don’t see the problem.”

With a roll of her eyes, the woman yanked away the blanket and ignored the whine that came with it. “The problem is that you have an award ceremony to attend in two hours and still lazing around!”

It didn’t take her much more effort before Elizabeth had yanked her up from the bed and pushed her swaying form into the shower. Y/N emerged twenty minutes later in the bedroom - awake for once. A bathrobe was wrapped around her body as she dried her hair with a towel.

The hotel bedroom had already been turned into a salon by the time she was finished and was almost unrecognizable to the eye. Her now made bed had at least ten pair of shoes lined up in order and color, and on the side stood a rack of dresses. All ranging from two pieces to more short and simple ones. The vanity table was now covered with hair and makeup products as Y/N’s staff was fixing up the last details to begin. Taking a deep breath, she went and sat down on the chair in front of the mirror, and it didn’t take them long before her hair was being blow dried and brushed at the same time.

Y/N just let them do their work on her hair as she absently browsed through her social media to pass the time. She only flinched a few times as her hair was tugged a bit painfully, but mostly ignored it. It was almost the girl fell asleep again when her phone dinged loudly, telling her she had a new message. Blinking herself awake, Y/N took a look at her screen before a smile lit up on her face.

A small giggle escaped her lips as she could just imagine him saying it in person. Her fingers tapped on her screen quickly to reply. She barely needed to wait a few seconds before he had already sent an answer to her own message.

Y/N couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows at the innuendo. Others reading the message could easily mistake it as harmless banter and teasing, but she knew her boyfriend better than most people. And if he had an opportunity to turn it into something sexual, then he would. Quickly typing back, she put down her phone as the voice of Elizabeth called out to her from by the rack and she turned around in the chair to face her - being cautious, seeing how her hair was being styled at that moment.

Her manager was looking conflicted as she browsed through the dresses with a determined mind. Sometimes shaking her head and sometimes nodding in approval.

“What do you think about this one?” She asked and held up a two piece in dark purple. The top was a high neck and beaded all over, and the skirt was flared out to her mid thighs.

Y/N shook her head, “It looks like something I would wear to prom.”

“Really?” Elizabeth asked and held up the outfit to closer inspection.

“Looks like something my daughter wore to her prom,” Y/N’s makeup artist, Yvonne, spoke up with a pointed look as she organized her brushes.

With a defeated sigh, the older woman put it back in place before rustling around some more and pulled out another dress. This one was a long floor gown, probably tight sitting on her body. It was gold and way too bedazzled. “This?”

“Liz, this is the Billboard awards, not the Oscars,” the girl sat in front the mirror said with a small grimace.

And she was a bit right at that. The dress looked too extravagant for wearing at a music award. With a small roll of her eyes, Elizabeth put it back on the rack and continued to search for something that was more fitting.

“Is this simple enough for you? Because there is nothing more normal than that,” her voice had taken a exasperated tone to it.

Y/N was just in time to catch the fabric that was flung in her face and held it up to look. It was perfect. The dress was simple, yet sexy and elegant. Which is something that was more her style than all the other over the top dresses. It was pretty low cut on the chest, but she never minded details like that. It was pastel pink and tight on her body as she slipped it on with some help. Yvonne was quick to take over after her hair was done, and kept muttering about how she couldn’t work well under stress as she applied foundation on the skin. Y/N had been so occupied with her clothes that she didn’t notice the new message on her screen, and locked up the phone to look at it. The reply made her roll her eyes with a small smile, until Yvonne hissed at her to stop moving and lean her head back.

Y/N didn’t know how much time had passed as the brushes on her face kept being switched out and replaced with another. Her eyes had remained closed the entire time, as the eyeshadow was being applied to perfection. It was after the glue of her fake lashes had dried, that she slowly opened them to look in the mirror. Her skin looked smooth and glowing from the highlighter. The eyeshadow was a light smoky eyeshadow with a sharp winged liner that made her green eyes pop. Yvonne had done an amazing job on her eyebrows like usual, which normally looked like a mess in her own opinion. Her dark brown hair tumbled down her back in luscious curls and stopped right above her waist. Yvonne had her posing to snap a few pictures on her phone until they were quickly stopped.

“Alright, alright, you’ll have enough time to pose on the red carpet! We really have to go now!” Elizabeth stressed as she chucked Y/N a couple of white platform heels before moving out the door.

“It’s a magenta carpet by the way,” Y/N felt the need to correct teasingly, as her manager glowered in reply.

Her whole team rushed down to the parking lot and into a black fancy van that stood ready waiting for the celebrity to come. The time was fifteen minutes past six, and the carpet had begun at six sharp. But she relaxed knowing that it was normal to come a little late, as barely anyone actually comes in time. Or else the carpet would be packed by the first minute. The car drove through the thick traffic of Las Vegas as they neared the arena where the awards were being held. She remembered that she still hadn’t replied to Jungkook’s message and decided to send him a picture of her outfit for tonight.

As her thoughts slowly drifted to the man she called her boyfriend, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her smile turning into a small grin. It seemed almost impossible to think about how him and her even met in the first place. She was a world known artist from the states, while he was from South Korea, in a category that was slowly climbing up to the top. They met for the first time about a year and a half ago, when she went to Seoul for a trip with her family. Her mother was half Korean because of her grandfather, and so they had family there. Despite Y/N barely looking anything like a native Korean at all with her green eyes and tan skin, she was still taught Korean from the moment she was born. Her mother made sure of it so she could communicate with their family living over there. Her father was a typical American man, her dark brown hair and tan skin coming from him. While her eyes came from her mom. But in the household that Y/N grew up in was a bit of a mix of both cultures. She was taught the typical things as honorifics and manners that her mother grew up with, while her father was more relaxed and chilled out and brought the more “American” side to their small family. For breakfast they would sometimes have rice and kimchi, and other times eggs and bacon.

The first time she met Jungkook was a total accident. One of her close friends that she gained in L.A was Amber of all people. Who had suddenly moved one day to pursue her music career in another country. They had met up when she arrived, and Amber invited her to join to one of those music shows to visit and support some of her friends that were promoting at the time. Y/N had agreed as they quickly made their way towards the MNET building or whatever it was. She never thought that many in Asia knew who she was, despite her huge success in America and Europe. But when they got backstage of the music show, many idols had gasped and dropped their jaws at the sight of her there. That was when Amber reminded her how popular she actually was.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually shocked. You’re Y/N! You’ve dominated the charts several times and had several world tours. Do you want me to remind you of your VMA’s wins?”

She had quickly stopped the older girl from keep gushing about her so called big achievements before they made her sound arrogant to others. Y/N had greeted those who said hi to her in fluent korean, that possibly shocked them even more. She had sheepishly dragged Amber quickly away to meet her friends before anything else could happen. The backstage area was so small and tight that it took some work to push past all the people being in there. Y/N had stupidly enough lost her only guide and was suddenly pushed as she tripped over her own feet clumsily, right into someone's back. That person happened to be Jungkook, who in instinct had quickly turned around and steadied her with hands on her shoulder. Y/N can still remember how embarrassed she was and kept apologizing and not even notice how still he had gotten. He was staring at her with wide eyes and mouth dropped slightly open, and the first thing he said was: “Whoa...”

But the both of them somehow hit it off quite well, despite Jungkook being a bit shy after that, seeing how one of his favorite artists literally bumped into him. He never imagined to even have the opportunity to see her in person, let alone talking to her. They had exchanged numbers and kept in contact during her time in Korea. Sometimes even meeting up to hang out. The communication was a bit limited when she left again and schedules filled up both her and his time. But they managed to become the greatest of friends in just six months. Involving a lot of calls and long night skype conversations. The next time they met in person was when his group had a show in her hometown, and of course she had to go. It wasn’t until face to face that both of them realized that they had developed feelings for each other, which was a big problem. Jungkook was an idol, a big one at that. His group was thriving for the success that they worked for, and had such dedicated fans. They couldn’t ruin that because of their selfish reasons. Or that’s what Y/N had told him when he confessed to her. She didn’t want to be the reason for his fans to hate him and start leaving the fandom. It seemed too risky.

She was just lucky to be in the kind of industry where fans weren’t as possessive over her like they were to him. She’s dated a quite few people through her career and had it gone public almost instantly. Yet it never was something big. It was just a part of life, and her fans knew that. But their cultures were different, and she had to respect that. But being the stubborn headed pig that her boyfriend was, he refused to let that “small” detail get between them. And he promised to make it work. And here they were today, a year later and still going strong and in secret. Her fans had already figured out that she was dating from her Instagram posts, if it was them holding hands or cuddling in bed. But all the pictures were taken in a angle where they couldn’t see his face. So his identity was still a mystery to all her fans.

Y/N was shook back to present time when the van came to a smooth stop, and she could hear the muffled yells of fans from the outside. Looking out of the window she saw the magenta carpet being filled with people. Both paparazzi, celebrities and interviewers alike. With a small knock from Elizabeth against the window, was the door of the van pulled open as she stepped outside. A couple of screams and yells were heard at the sight of her, as she turned around to wave quickly at the fans. Her manager was by her side through it all as the woman ushered her in front of the rows of photographers. There were voices everywhere that called out to her to look here or there. Y/N did it calmly as she posed and smiled from different angles. The magenta carpet past by pretty quickly for her, as there was always something to do. Whether it was getting interviewed or saying hi to friends that she hadn’t met for a while.

After all the hype that was going on the carpet, Elizabeth had pushed her inside the building and backstage to where her wardrobe was assigned to be. Sadly she would not be performing today, but she was nominated for several awards as well. Backstage were so many familiar faces that she had to stop and greet several of them and being stopped herself. So the trip took a bit longer than necessary. But as she continued down the hallway, seven familiar forms standing in a half circle slowly came into view. They were talking to someone, she noted. Y/N followed their eyes to see another familiar person standing there, dressed in a long red dress. As she came closer, his eyes flickered up to meet hers and she saw the way his shy smile dropped and his eyes widened the smallest of fractions. Not trying to be obvious to the many people around them, she decided to make her presence known.

“Camila!” Y/N called out with a bright grin as the woman in question turned around and smiled at the sight.

The seven boys had reacted at her voice as well as they all looked up.

“Oh my gosh Y/N!” Camila replied excitedly and lifted her dress as she met her halfway.

Both girls wrapped their arms around each other in a tight hug.

“You look amazing,” the now solo popstar gushed as she took in her outfit.

Y/N scoffed with a smile, “Stop it, look at you! Damn girl, you’re hot,” she winked and got a shy giggle in reply.

“Seriously I’ve missed you so much,” Camila pouted. “What’s going on with you lately?”

“I know i’ve been really absent, sorry,” Y/N said with a small frown herself. “It’s been really hectic ever since the album dropped and all that.”

“I get it,” she replied back. “But we have to hang out soon, it’s been like forever!”

“Ugh I knoow,” Y/N answered with a groan. “I missed you so much.”

“Same, it’s pretty boring not talking to you for a long time,” Camila grinned. “But are you going to Drake’s after party later?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered quickly to the boys behind them before meeting her friend’s again. “I’m not sure. He sent me a message about it, but i’ll have to see.”

A voice cut in their conversation as they called out to Camila to go and prepare for her performance that was one of the first during the show. With a small frown, the popstar quickly hugged her again and promised to talk later if possible before departing with her small team trailing behind. It was at that moment she finally turned to face the guys who had been respectively waiting for the conversation between the two girls to end.

“Look who it is,” Hoseok was the first to speak up in Korean with a bright grin, before moving forward and catching her in a hug.

Y/N laughed slightly and returned it. The boys all moved forward one by one and hugged her eagerly as they were also a bit more relaxed to see a familiar face in such a big place. Jungkook had been last as he walked up to her with a small smile, as she returned it. Y/N reached up and fixed his tie slightly before looking up at him.

“Hey there handsome,” she grinned before hugging him around the waist.

He returned it tightly and rested his chin on top of her head as his arm rested on the back of her waist. They didn’t stay like that for long as there were a lot of people backstage with them and they didn’t want it to look too friendly for prying eyes.

“How are you guys feeling?” Y/N had asked them as she stood back and took a quick sweep over their clothes.

“Nervous,” Yoongi replied with a small shrug.

“You don’t look very nervous,” she raised her eyebrows.

And he really didn’t. He stood in a very casual way with hands in his pockets.

“You shouldn’t let his cold facade fool you of all people Y/N,” Namjoon said with a pointed look.

“Probably not,” she shrugged in reply as they all chuckled. “But i’m so excited for you guys!”

“It’s pretty unbelievable,” Jimin nodded in agreement to her words.

“Come on you’ll all do fine!” She assured them. “Most of the fans here are for you after all, so you’re definitely not alone.”

Her words seem to relax all of them a bit more as they regained their confidence back. She could understand why they were so on edge. They were in an unfamiliar country, with a language that most of them don’t speak, surrounded by artists that they had only seen on screen. It could get very intimidating.

“Bangtan you have to find you seats,” One of their staff members suddenly said as they all began move.

“We’ll talk to you later Y/N!” Namjoon waved at her.

“I’ll catch up,” Jungkook said to his members as they all nodded in understanding.

One of their managers stayed behind to wait for the youngest member but they stood a bit farther away to give them some privacy, and Elizabeth seemed to do the same as she was occupied with something on her phone. The couple had moved away from standing in the middle of the hallways to instead leaning against the wall to draw less attention to themselves.

“I missed you so much,” Jungkook finally sighed out as he tucked a small strand of hair behind her ear.

“I missed you too,” Y/N smiled gently up at him.

The distance between them was at a respectful length that both seemed to dislike, but they couldn’t do anything about it.

“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you,” he said as his eyes kept flickering down to her lips.

She giggled at his words. “Later, I promise.”

“You better keep it,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh you know good I am at keeping those kinds of promises,” she stated with a smug tone.

Jungkook smirked slightly as he stared at his girlfriend. She was so beautiful that it was almost painful to not be able and touch her, or hold her like he usually does.

“We should go, the show is starting soon,” Y/N finally said as he nodded in agreement.

It seemed like she wasn’t going to have time to go to her wardrobe at all with all that just happened. They both turned towards their managers as they understood and started to lead them out towards the venue. As they walked side by side, she could feel his hand resting on her back. But the moment they came out into the seating area, his hand fell back to his side as they separated in silence to go towards their respectful seats. The boys were a bit further in the back, while Y/N had hers on the very front.

The show went by quicker than Y/N had imagined where she sat alongside stars like Nicki Minaj and Drake. She never did speak too much with the female rapper as they both obviously had different interests and never really came across each other face to face before. Drake on the other hand, she had met a couple of times and spoken with. Which was also the big reason for his invite to the after party. They were both huge stars that enjoyed the attention of the public a bit more than Y/N ever did, but they weren’t terrible to be seated with. During the breaks between the show they were both friendly and involved her in conversations, seeing how she was sat alone and not with someone more familiar. It was about time when the award for top social artist was going to be presented, that everyone in the arena noticed how the crowd sitting on the sides were getting wilder for each second that went by. Y/N smiled smugly at the display BTS fans showed to their favorites.

“What is going on?” The infamous voice of Nicki had asked as she looked around in bewilderment.

“They’re going crazy,” Drake noted with a curious tone.

But as the presenters finished their dialogue, the screen for the nominees started to roll as the first artist came on. The applause for Justin Bieber was normal as some cheered. But when the familiar sound of Blood, Sweat and Tears echoed through the arena, screams were going crazy as most people flinched in surprise. The moment BTS was called up as winners, Y/N stood up on her feet and clapped as all the fans went insane once more, and kept chanting the group name. Others clapped in respect, but there was confusion clear in their eyes as they didn’t recognize the name. Y/N was the only one to stand on her feet from the front row when the seven boys passed in disbelief. Once seated again, she couldn’t stop grinning as Namjoon delivered the beautiful speech in fluent english. She could feel the pride blossoming within her as she cheered loudly when they went off the stage. After that the rest of the night went quite quickly as there was nothing much to look forward to. Y/N had been nominated in the same category as BTS, but they obviously took the win.

As the crowds within the arena began to disperse, she met up with Elizabeth again who had been waiting backstage. Her team all went into the van as it pulled out and drove back towards the hotel they stayed at. The day had been longer than she expected when she arrived back in her room alone and took a look at the clock. It was almost 1 AM. Feeling the energy slowly leaving her body, Y/N went to take a quick shower and clean off her makeup and changing into some comfortable clothes when her phone dinged.

Before he had sent another message a knock sounded loudly from her door as a new message appeared quickly after.

With wide eyes she rushed to unlock the door and saw Jungkook standing on the other side with a grin. He was dressed in a pair of comfortable shorts and a white t-shirt. He was wearing some slippers on his feet. Slippers that looked exactly like those that the hotel had given her at arrival.

“You’re at the same hotel?!” Y/N exclaimed as he stepped inside and locked the door.

“Guilty,” he said sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked and followed him.

“I didn’t know myself,” Jungkook admitted. “I asked Elizabeth about it earlier.”

He turned around to face her and without warning bent down to press his lips against hers. Y/N let out a small sound of surprise, but found herself quickly kissing him back as a pleased sigh escaped from her.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do that,” Jungkook muttered as they separated, with his arms wrapped around her waist. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Y/N smiled as her arms looped themselves around his neck and she stood on her toes to get closer. “I think as much as I’ve missed you.”

Jungkook smiled as he took in the sight of her in his arms again after so long and pressed a peck on her forehead. They both stayed in each other’s embrace for a while longer before moving to the bed and laying down together.

“Are you staying tonight?” She asked as she played with the collar of his shirt.

He was absently threading his fingers through her damp hair and hummed in reply. “We’re leaving a bit later tomorrow for L.A.”

“Really? Looks like we have the same plan.”

“Mhm, our schedule is packed for the next two days with interviews and according to our manager hyung, the requests keep coming.”

Y/N chuckled, “That’s what happens when you’re the first k-pop group to win a billboard.”

“Yeah no kidding,” Jungkook sighed mockingly.

“When are you flying back to Korea?”

“I don’t know yet,” he replied. “We’re leaving straight to Australia for the concert after the interviews.”

Y/N frowned slightly, “Oh…”

Fingers were placed under her chin as they pulled up her face to look at him. Jungkook smiled gently at her. “Let’s not worry about that. We have tonight.”

She smiled in return and cuddled closer into his arms before taking out her phone and quickly snapping a picture of their position and posting it on Instagram.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook chuckled.

“Boasting to the world how wonderful my boyfriend is,” Y/N replied with a grin, when suddenly the phone was taken out of her hand and she was pushed back against the bed.

A small “oomf” came out of her mouth as she looked at him hovering over her body. Gone was the gentle smile and eyes filled with a loving glint. Instead there was a steady smirk, and his brown irises had gone darker with lust. None of them needed to say a word as they both reached towards each other in unison and locked their lips in a passionate dance. Their tongues in a battle for dominance as their movements became more frantic as lust clouded both of their minds.

Y/N woke up to the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her waist and a breath tickling the back of her neck. Blinking away the sleep clouding her eyes, she looked around the room with a dazed look before turning around. Jungkook’s sleeping face greeted her as he breathed in and out in deep sleep. His hair was a bit messy from their last night activities that lasted for a while, before they both fell asleep in exhaustion. The duvet covered only his waist and down as his muscled chest and abs were exposed to the air. With a small smile she leaned over and pecked his forehead, before gently removing his arm around her body. Slipping out of the bed, Y/N shivered slightly from the air brushing over her nude skin before she quickly changed into sweatpants and a white normal crop top. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, before taking a brush to get rid of the obvious sex hair that was on her head. She walked back out into the bedroom to see her boyfriend slowly coming to life as he yawned and stretched his body.

“Sleep well?” she couldn’t help but smirk a bit.

“Like a baby,” he replied smugly.

Y/N chuckled before bending down to take his shorts and boxers before tossing them in his direction. He caught them effortlessly and stood up from the bed, not the least shameful to be naked in front of her and slipping into his underwear.

“How did you sleep?” His groggy morning voice asked her as he walked towards her and wrapped an arms around her hips.

“Amazing,” She answered while fluttering her eyes dramatically and he laughed lightly.

Jungkook bent down to give her a kiss on the lips, but she stopped him quickly with a hand. “Morning breath,” she warned. “Go brush your teeth, you can borrow mine.”

With a exaggerated roll of his eyes, he shuffled towards the bathroom as his girl gave his butt a teasing slap as he passed.

While he was getting ready Y/N took a quick glance over her room and began to gather up all her clothes and belongings to pack them in her suitcase. She didn’t want to stress with all of it later when Elizabeth would come storming in. It was quickly finished as she didn’t bring that many belongings, before she opened the screen of her phone and hundreds of twitter and instagram notifications greeted her.

“What the hell...?” Y/N muttered as she went into her twitter feed and looked at what it was about.

Her eyes widened slightly as she saw pictures and collages of a few shots of her and Jungkook from yesterday. It was when they were backstage and talking together alone, as well as when she had hugged the rest of the group. Y/N foolishly forgot that even if they were backstage, nothing was a secret there. There was even a small 6 second videoclip of the two of them walking away and cut right off when his hand rested on her back.

As she scrolled through all the mentions frantically and it was obvious that the BTS fans were dying of shock and curiosity.

‘OMG Y/N AND BTS INTERACTED’

‘Holy shit they hugged her so comfortably!’

‘WTH I never knew BTS and Y/N were close???!!!’

‘JUNGKOOK AND Y/N TALKING I PRIVATE??? SOMEBODY EXPLAIN’

‘Did we miss something?’

‘International playboy is out playing again’

‘Daamn Jungkook is getting it, just look at his hand’

‘Are they dating?’

‘They can’t be dating can they?’

‘I NEVER KNEW THEY EVEN MET!?’

‘I went to sleep and wake up to chaos, like wth’

Thousands upon thousands of fans and comments swarmed the internet along with all the pictures and video being shared around. Y/N knew that it didn’t look as bad as the comments made it be. But just seeing all the reactions to it made her feel uneasy.

“Fuuuck,” Y/N groaned out as she ran a hand through her hair.

“What’s wrong babe?” Jungkook’s voice asked her as he came out of the bathroom, a towel drying his hair. He must have gotten a shower as well. She was probably to occupied to notice.

“Twitter, Instagram, facebook!” she stressed out and met his concerned eyes. “The whole internet is going crazy!”

“What do mean?” he asked in confusion, and held her shoulders to calm her down.

“Someone took pictures of us yesterday backstage talking, and now the whole world knows,” Y/N explained with a look. “Your fans are going crazy.”

Jungkook tensed slightly as a small frown overtook his features. He took her phone and looked at what she spoke about. Comments in english, korean and other languages were discussing about the news. Several articles had already been posted. He took a glance at his girlfriend and saw her pacing around the floor as a nervous look was on her face. Locking the phone, he put it on the table before stopping her in her frenzy.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said looking into her eyes.

“How?! They’re never going to give up!”

“Y/N, those pictures are harmless. We weren’t touching or kissing. We were only conversing, and it’s normal to interact with new people. I’m sure the Bang PDnim is going to call and figure this all out if it becomes any bigger, but when the time comes we’ll figure it out. Together, alright?” His words had visibly calmed her down as Y/N relaxed and nodded along to his words.

Jungkook pulled her into a tight hug as she returned it with a small sigh. “We’ll get through this, I promise,” he muttered and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you,” Y/N mumbled into his chest and tightened her arms around him.

“I love you too.”

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