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stemwriter · 1 year ago

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Pursuit of Knowledge - Chapter 1

Finally, the first chapter! Criticism is absolutely welcome here, and I hope you enjoy!

This has a gender neutral reader, and is just the regular sentience au; no cult/creator/imposter stuff. Only main difference, [Y/N] is a lore fanatic.

Word count: ~3.3k

So there you were, sitting in your bedroom waiting for Genshin Impact to download. You had heard that it was a huge game, but for some reason your screen only said that there were only around 10 gigabytes of data. ‘I guess 10 gigabytes is pretty big for a mobile game,’ you thought, as the progress bar slowly made its way to 100%.

The stone doors opened, your screen went white, and the opening cutscene you’ve seen a million times before in all those video essays began to play.

Outlanders, your journey ends here.

You’d thought about which sibling you would pick before. You loved seeing Lumine as the villain, and so without hesitation, picked the boy, named Aether.

You’d seen some gameplay before, and you already thought the graphics were good, but this… This was astounding. It was better than what you’d seen before online. Your character didn’t look exactly realistic so to speak, but everything looked extremely high quality. How was this game free? You guessed the difference between this and what you remember was because you were playing on PS5, and began to move on through the story.

After getting the power of Anemo and seeing the Anemo God himself, you met Amber. You spammed through the dialogue, just wanting to get to Mondstadt.

“Ah! A hilichurl!”

“Quick, get it!”

She said “Get it!” like that hilichurl was no more than a bug in someone’s house, about to be killed for no reason other than being there. That… worried you, considering what hilichurls once were. You knew you had to kill this camp of hilichurls to progress the story, but you told yourself that starting now, you wouldn’t be killing any hilichurls unless you were forced to by the plot or you really needed resources.

After a mildly annoying amount of walking, you entered the city and ran to the Cathedral plaza to get your Wind Glider. Amber gave it to you, and you glided across the city, which seemed different, somehow, although you couldn’t tell what was wrong. You were then promptly thrown into the sky, shooting wind projectiles at a dragon.

“I’m preventing your fall with the power of a thousand winds!”

“HOLY CRAP! It’s God!”

“Concentrate on this! See yourself grasping the wind. Harness its energy.”

You listened to Venti instruct you on this gamemode you didn’t think you’d ever use again, making ‘pew pew pew!’ sounds as Dvalin’s HP bar slowly decreased.

It was the moment you’ve been waiting for. The Traveler lands, and the camera cuts to that blue-haired eyepatch man, one of your favorite characters, Kaeya. You waited until he finished his dramatic introduction, and yelled “WOOOOOOOO!!!!” at the top of your lungs. You thought about playing an audience cheering sound effect, but realized it’s too late now and you don’t even have your soundboard open. You should get that ready in a minute. You’ve already heard this before, so you skip through the dialogue. Well, at least Amber’s lines. You let Kaeya finish everything he has to say.

‘From afar? Is that all we know of them?’

“Surprisingly, yes.” You said, thinking about how you know so much about everyone in Teyvat yet know close to nothing about the main character. You knew they were older than 500, and they had a sibling, but just who were they? You focused back on the game, sighing after hearing Kaeya say he understands being separated from family, feeling your heart growing heavy as you remember his backstory. “You need someone to talk to, man, I’m all ears.” If there was one thing you really knew about his personality, it was that he needed a therapist.

You entered the HQ and listened to the group devise a plan. You still didn’t know why you were only taking care of 3 temples, but you would eventually figure that out, right? Right? You pulled on Noelle’s banner 10 times, only getting her, a sword called… Flute? and some 3 star weapons that you figured wouldn’t help you for long. You equipped The Flute on the Traveler, tested it out a bit, and set off to the three temples.

By the time you were done with Amber’s, you decided that you were absolutely not going to follow any instructions the system gave you. No one can tell you what you can do!

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Kaeya was… perplexed, to say the least, when he prepared to walk up to Amber and a traveler she was with. For a split second, he could have sworn he saw everything turn gray, and strange, colorful, circles appeared around everyone’s joints. Already, he wondered if he was hallucinating, but then he heard the sound of someone cheering that felt as if it was coming from the traveler, but he didn’t open his mouth. Amber didn’t seem to react to it, either. That meant either neither of them noticed it, or he was seeing and hearing things. Assuming it was the latter, he continued on, making a mental note to keep watch of it.

“Hold on Amber, are you perhaps forgetting to introduce us?”

“Oh… right. This i- Thes-”

‘From afar? Is that all we know of them?’

“Surprisingly, yes.”

That voice! Again, but this time, it directly replied to his thoughts. Was it not a hallucination? Just what in Teyvat was this? He had a strong feeling that it was connected to the Traveler, but how could it see what he was thinking just then? He needed to investigate this, that’s for sure.

“Long st-”

“I see. Welcome to Mondstadt - though you haven’t arrived at the best of times, I’m afraid.”

The Traveler had been separated from his sister, and came to Mondstadt looking for help finding her. He knew how he felt. When Diluc left Mondstadt for all those years, he spent every day worried, wondering if he would ever return.

“I understand the anguish of being separated from family. I’m not sure why you’re looking for the Anemo God… but everyone has their secrets, right?”

“You need someone to talk to, man, I’m all ears.”

The voice was… comforting him now? Interesting.

Who was this traveler? He certainly wasn’t your average tourist. He’d taken him, his… companion, and Amber to the Knights of Favonius headquarters to see Master Jean, and while that conversation went somewhat normal, the atmosphere quickly became… unnerving as soon as it ended. The others stood still in the room, not saying a word. After a few moments, the Traveler left the room, and Kaeya could swear he saw him swinging a weapon in the main hall, but if he was, why didn’t any of the other Knights stop him?

Waiting at the Temple of the Wolf, he thought about his experience earlier. He realized that Amber never finished a sentence, but somehow he understood everything she said. Amber never told him the Traveler’s story, yet he knew it. Did that have to do with that voice? That strange presence? It didn’t seem like it was intending anything bad by the way it spoke to him, but this whole situation was just so… strange.

Kaeya walked around a bit and cleared the area of any potential threats, and after what felt like an hour, the Traveler finally arrived at the temple. He honestly was expecting him to take longer, considering he likely helped Amber first, but it was a surprise to not have to wait quite as long as he thought. How long did it take him to get there? He was a long way from the city of Mondstadt, yet he couldn’t even remember the journey to get here now. Could everything strange he’d experienced be caused by that presence? Hallucinations, memory issues; just what was going on?

“You’ve arrived,” he said, slightly hoping that voice didn’t respond and that it really was all in his head. “Come closer. Do you smell that?”

Unfortunately, it was not, in fact, all in his head.

“How in the world do you burn a Pyro Slime?”

‘It’s the smell of burnt Pyro Slimes.”

How did it know what the Traveler was going to say before he said it? Could it be… influencing him in some way? He continued on, wanting to get these temples taken care of so he could have time to investigate this, whatever this is. He watched as the Traveler walked up to the doors of the domain, and… teleported through them? ‘This day just keeps getting weirder…’ he thought, before entering the domain himself.

“Let me show you how the Knights of Favonius conquer our adversaries,” he said. Although he was about to fight, his body relaxed, and a chill went down his spine. He tried to snap himself out of it, but he found he couldn’t move. The hell…? After a couple of seconds, his body sprinted forward, as that voice said “Alright, here we go,” with a sigh. It was behind this, too? What was this? His heart pounded. He was powerless. It could do whatever it wanted with him, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. No one would know other than those affected… Why did he not mention this to anyone before? He tried to fight against it, but he still couldn’t move a muscle.

It felt as if he wasn’t fully in his body, as if he was only watching as his body was being puppeteered by some unknown entity. What did it want with him? The Traveler really was being influenced by them, wasn’t he? Was he too, being possessed by it? It seemed the entity could only use one body at a time, but while it was using one, the other completely disappeared.

Forget waiting until this Stormterror crisis was over, he needed to do something as soon as possible, before anyone else was affected by it! It couldn’t keep its hold over him for too long, right? He needed to get back to Mondstadt as soon as possible, to at least tell someone before it takes control of him again. He didn’t want to leave the Traveler like this, but he would have to if he was to do anything about it.

He calmed down a bit, as it didn’t instantly try to harm him, but he started to get concerned for his safety again when the entity made him jump over a pit of spikes in water. The water could very easily be frozen and walked on, avoiding the spikes entirely, and yet it made him jump over the pit. Nothing bad happened, though. Was it that confident in its, and to an extent, his, abilities? Or was it planning something more… violent? After the crystal was destroyed at the end of the temple, he felt like he was back in his body again, the entity no longer having control over him. Still, he didn’t want it to know he was trying to get away, so he started to speak as if nothing out of the expected happened. But why was it laughing?

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

You knew of a little trick you could do in this next cutscene, the one where Diluc comes out of nowhere and obliterates an Abyss Mage. You chuckle to yourself as you pull up a video.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind OST - Giorno's Theme『il vento d'oro』

03:45 ━━━━━━━⬤──── 05:27

As the Abyss Mage comes out from the shadows, you hit Play on the video and watch as Diluc charges in, the song syncing to his movements. You could swear you saw a confused look on his face, but you assumed you were either seeing things, or that you just misremembered the cutscene. You didn’t remember every single detail, after all.

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

…Of course that didn’t work. As soon as he left the temple, he fell into the entity’s control once again. It didn’t help that he never saw Diluc leave the temple. If he did, he might have a chance at getting him to notice something’s wrong. It also appeared that he and the Traveler were not the only people it had decided to use as its puppets. At various times, he would be thrown out of his body completely and watch as it uses another. He noticed not only the Traveler, but Amber, Noelle, and for a short while, Lisa.

It encountered a Ruin Guard at the Thousand Winds Temple. It used Amber to destroy the automaton’s core, stunning it, before using him to counter the Pyro element on it. It got back up again, but it wasn’t up for long before it was defeated, falling to the grou-

*lego breaking noise*

*metal pipe falling*

“*snickering* God, I love having a soundboard…”

What were those noises? Those didn’t come from the Ruin Guard, did they? Were they made by that “soundboard” thing?

After that, there were an abundance of strange noises, almost always accompanied by the entity laughing.

He also realized that it wasn’t killing any monsters; in fact, it even knew some Hilichurlian. Whatever this entity was, it didn’t appear to be intending to harm anything. It wasn’t killing any monsters, and it was giving him equipment that felt like it made him stronger. Did it even know it was controlling him like this? If not, would it continue if it knew?

Regardless of if they knew or not, they continued on, at one point using him to cross the ocean to an island he had never seen mapped before. It took a fair bit of time, considering how far out it was. After a few minutes, what sounded to be a recording of someone’s voice began to play, likely by this entity to prevent boredom.

At the beginning, it brought up what he believed was happening to him now, and went on to say how it might work. How gaining a “character” means the Traveler can now connect to the essence of the person, harnessing their abilities, and how getting more “constellations” gives a deeper connection. He had heard of people having their own constellation, but he couldn’t make any sense of it in this context. While he was very concerned on how people knew any of this, it only further confirmed his theory that whoever this was using his body had not a clue on what they were really doing.

The recording ended up discussing very intriguing things. He was confused on why they were referring to people as “characters” at the beginning, but the whole time, they were referring to Teyvat and its past, present, and future as if it was nothing but a fictional story, constantly mentioning the “plot”, “chapters”, “roles”, and such. Is that what this was to them? The recording mainly focused on the “fate” of Teyvat, and how it could possibly be changed. It had been a topic he had been endlessly thinking about, and this left him with… mixed feelings. On one hand, the Traveler may be the key to changing fate, and it gave him hope that things might actually end well for him. But on the other hand, would he really have to rely on someone else to decide his fate?

They found many chests on the island, and discovered someone’s notebook, which said that something strange happens here in the very early morning hours. The entity seemed confused for a bit, appearing to be looking for something, before sounding disappointed. They did another lap around the island, making sure they collected everything, and then teleported back to near Windrise, still seeming a bit confused.

They went north to the Stormbearer Mountains, and headed towards a watchtower, likely to get a better view of their surroundings. They weren’t about to get up there without a fight, though. Crossbow-armed hilichurls surrounded the place. Instead of taking them out then and there, they tried to just walk by, finding a good time to climb. He could tell they weren’t prepared for this, that they were overwhelmed. They shrieked as a Pyro hilichurl shot at him, trying to run away from the projectile.

This should be common sense, but one thing he knew about combat; when you dodge, don’t go running directly into the attack.

A flaming arrow hit him right in the jugular, and he was met with a world of searing pain. He didn’t know if it was this entity making him do it, but he let out a scream as it hit. The arrow had disappeared. He stood there, now choking, though his body did not react. Would this be how he died? By an arrow shot from a hilichurl he could easily take care of if he could just-

Time seemed to stop for a moment. Suddenly, everything was fine.

No pain, no wound, and he had the taste of chicken in his mouth.

They healed him from what was very easily a fatal wound just like that? That was why they were being so reckless, wasn’t it?

It had seemed like whatever was in control of him had no clue what they were doing, but how? How could they not know? Surely they must notice that something’s off, right?

At one point, they tried to climb up the Knights of Favonius building with Amber and fell, which caused her to disintegrate. He panicked, but soon after, she appeared again as if absolutely nothing had happened. Apparently, they had the power to revive people they were using, as well as heal fatal wounds. Sure, that was great that neither he nor anyone else this was happening to would have to fear dying, but that meant that if they wanted to, they could kill and revive someone under their control over and over again. It was a good thing they seemed to have no intentions of doing such a thing…

They were exploring for hours, during which time Kaeya’s thoughts mostly consisted of reactions to things they were saying or doing, with a little existential dread creeping in every now and then, wondering if he was ever going to gain back control. The sun went down, and soon after that, they said “Alright Teyvat, I’ll be back to conquer you tomorrow! I’m gonna go pass out!” That was a bit… direct, and he wasn’t entirely sure if they were joking by the “conquer” bit due to the events of the last couple of hours, but regardless, it was over. He nearly fell over after they left, not expecting to suddenly gain back control of his body again. Now, the question is, how does he go about solving this? Before he thought about that, he decided he needed a drink since he had some time to spare, and so he headed to Angel’s Share.

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After finishing Lisa’s temple, you were free to explore Teyvat. You spent some time exploring Mondstadt, collecting Anemoculi, before going back to where you started. You knew of that unmapped island, and now that you had the power to ice bridge, you were going to go there. You knew it would take a while, so you put on another video essay explaining a Genshin theory to listen to, and began the journey.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t do everything. You were able to get a bunch of chests, but the quest there needed the time of day to be between 2 and 5 AM to progress. You remembered there being a time skip button, but you looked everywhere and just couldn’t find it. So, you had to go back to the mainland, defeated. Come to think of it, how long was the day/night cycle? It’s been over an hour and the sun’s barely moved. Was the in game time synced to real time? If so, why the hell would they make a quest that can only progress in the middle of the night? You figured that you’re just missing something, and started thinking about something else before you got too stressed out.

You played for a couple of hours, getting used to the combat system. It was fun, but you felt like the enemies did a bit too much damage. Seriously, one arrow from a low-level hilichurl shouldn’t almost one-shot your character! You felt pretty tired, and not wanting to struggle to keep your eyes open, you decided to log out, and continue your Magical Adventure™ tomorrow.

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And pass out you did, falling asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. You ended up sleeping for a while, so by the time you got up, it was already pretty late in the morning. You had some errands to run, so you showered, got ready, and took care of them.

You had nothing else to do today, so you decided to open Genshin again and continue your adventure. The world loads in, and there you are, with your team of Aether, Amber, Noelle and- hold on where’s Kaeya? Maybe you removed him for some reason. You were pretty tired. You go to the party select screen, and select hi-

*This character is busy.*

What the hell does that mean?

#sagau #genshin fanfic #baby’s first fanfic #genshin sentience au #ao3 #fanfic #genshin impact #Pursuit of Knowledge

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all-my-love-jk · 8 months ago

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hello my lovelies!!!

Alright, so this is something I have been planning for almost a year now. I have always loved fantasy novels and good storylines, and one of the ways I connect with GVF’s music is through the stories and images they are able to depict through music. I couldn’t help myself from creating a universe from it. They’ve said themselves it’s like LOTR! :)) With that being said, through this I am in no way claiming that this is the only message these songs give or that this comes even close, i’m only taking inspiration from these song lyrics and creating a real connected story from it. also, i don’t in any way claim this as original, these characters and storylines are heavily developed from what GVF has already written and inspired by their own personalities; full credit goes to their wonderful music :)

so, my idea is to start writing out some of it here, sharing concepts and ideas, possibly full chapters or in depth character analysis, because I’m still figuring out the story myself! I’m also looking for collaboration, because if this were to get bigger and become an actual full book on the forum, I would need some help lmao😭

Anyways, please feel welcome to leave any feedback/criticisms you may have because this is a work in progress and I want your input! i’ve enjoyed reading so many amazing stories through tumbler and other platforms like ao3, but I’m not as much of a super experienced writer myself. I’ve always enjoyed it, but I’ve never put my work on display like this before, so any help is appreciated!!

also, just tell me if the whole idea is dogshit, i won’t hold it against anyone😂

thanks for reading <3

#gvf #josh gvf #jake gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny gvf #sammy gvf #danny wagner #sam kiszka #tbagg #starcatcher #aotpa #ftf

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idontknowreallywhy · 1 year ago

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Estera Ch 4 - Thunderbird

(Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3)

From here on ignore anything I say about future chapter length because somehow this one ended up longer still… but slightly too many words better than no words, right?

I need to work out how to properly tag this but there are… events of an unpleasant nature in E’s early adult life during the war which won’t ever be described but will be implied at various points and are a little more strongly implied here than they have been so far. As I say, there will never be anything graphic or in any way detailed but if the hint that there was something in the past is going to cause you a problem please dodge. I considered writing it out completely but it would involve rewriting a lot of how her character develops and I just couldn’t make it work.

Right, I’ll get on with dropping stuff on Scott…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thankfully the collapse was a short lived and highly localised one. Although the shockwave of each chunk of rock slamming into his back and helmet shuddered through his ribs and down his spine, it didn’t hurt too badly so it was unlikely much damage had been done. The suit had done its job - Brains really was a genius.

What was much more worrying was the way the teacher had gone entirely limp and collapsed on top of the two children she was shielding. Had a stray bit of debris hit her? Her helmet had slipped to one side but he was sure he’d covered her head… the movement of rock seemed to be slowing but it was too soon to move yet. Transferring his weight to one arm he flipped open the visor on his helmet and dragged his glove off with his teeth. He felt for a pulse while still sheltering her and the kids as best he could from the last few stray pebbles. There it was… and she seemed to be breathing slowly.

Ok. Right, ok.

He patted the shoulders of the two figures huddled beneath their teacher and called out some generically reassuring phrases to the other kids, told them to keep calm and still… then suppressed a grunt of pain as one last heavy shard came away and caught his neck and shoulder at an acute angle, tearing through the fabric of his suit. No longer able to support himself with the one arm, he braced with the other and bit back a bitter curse at the thought of how his brothers were going to react to this. Couldn’t he have at least got through one rescue without an injury to distract them with? Just one? His helmet lights flickered and went out.

A metallic pop then the fizz of static told him his comm connection was also probably a goner. It was beginning to feel distinctly less like a jazz hands kind of day.

He waited a couple more seconds to ensure nothing else would fall then with a slight grimace pushed himself up and gently rolled the teacher away from the shocked kids and into the recovery position. Her vitals were fine and from his brief torchlit inspection he couldn’t see or feel any head injury… maybe with the shock of everything she’d just fainted? Her forehead was furrowed which was… unusual. He shook her shoulder a little, she tensed her jaw but otherwise no response. Something told him to leave her be for a while.

He helped the kids up and checked them over. The rest of the class, seemingly frozen in shock up to now, suddenly rushed forwards towards their unconscious teacher. The flow of calming words continued without any conscious thought or effort as he persuaded her charges to back away a little and give her some room. She’d wake up soon. Her brain was just making her have a little rest after being so brave. She was ok, he promised. The sticky feeling progressing down his back was a reminder that he needed to keep the kids in front of him, no need to freak them out any more. He shifted so that his back was towards the wall and smiled round at them all. In a ploy to distract, he started asking them their names and favourite dinosaurs given that was clearly a topic of interest.

The two children the teacher had been sheltering were shaky but unharmed. One had snuck closer again and was gently stroking her hair. Well he’d turn a blind eye to that. The rest of the class… less so.

“Astraaaaa! Mr Scott said you have to keep away from Miss H so she can wake up slowly! It’s not fair!” Jeff’s fury at the injustice was potent.

“But I want to help!” Glistening eyes appealed to him in the dim light.

Scott cast his mind back to wrangling Gordon and Alan at this age. He just needed to get them working together somehow… he hoped he wouldn’t live to regret his next suggestion.

“Sometimes singing to somebody in a deep sleep can help. Do you guys know any songs she might like?”

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The voices of young children singing faded into her field of hearing, distant and strange in timbre as if she was underwater. She tensed, remembering the taunts and harsh laughter that had immediately preceded the darkness. Had they gone? She held her breath. It…seemed so? There was singing and they’d never have allowed that. The mocking, hateful voices had been replaced by a more melodious one and she became aware of a gentle hand patting the side of her jaw. Opening her eyes she saw Blue frowning down at her.

No! No it wasn’t safe for him here!

She gasped and scrabbled backwards whereupon she was surrounded by little arms and worried voices and she wasn’t There at all but with the kids and they were all… where…?

She blinked dazedly for a moment then it finally came flooding back and she tried and failed to find her voice to reassure them all.

At least six of them began talking at a mile a minute and any contribution from her turned out to be unnecessary, so she released a breath slowly and allowed the wave of chatter to wash away the sense of horror and revulsion prickling at her skin. Why had she passed out? The flashback had been hazy, but the eyes had been so vivid. She stole a glance at the man using his foot to shift the larger pieces of rubble to the side of the cave.

Of course it hadn’t been Him. It was just the International Rescue guy. Who probably now thought she was pretty pathetic not to mention rude.

“And you dived over to save them just like a superhero, Miss! And then Mr Scott superheroed right on top of you AND Astra AND Bee but he didn’t fly you away or anything and the wall fell all over you and it was really really scary and Rozi screamed right in my ear but you weren’t dead and Mr Scott told us we shouldn’t all sit around and poke you so we sat over here, except Astra didn’t which really annoyed Jeff and then we sang to you did you like that?”

Xanthe paused for breath and Estera took the opportunity to stem the tide of information by thanking them all for the update and asking if everyone was ok. Again. As if the question made any difference. None of them were ok. How was any of this ok? She shoved down the bubble of despair that was lurking in her windpipe.

One of the torches flickered out.

The rescuer looked up and suggested they should turn off half the torches for now. There was the traditional excited squealing as the cave got darker but there was still enough light to see each other by.

Now what?

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If he was honest, the look of absolute terror on her face had thrown him a little. He couldn’t quite rationalise it with the circumstances and it had felt quite… personal somehow, as if she wasn’t just scared but specifically scared of… him? That didn’t make any sense though. All the same he figured it wouldn’t do any harm to give her some space.

So he tidied away the fragments of rock because, well, the kids needed as much safe open floor space as possible. And he needed to do… something. He glanced over at the small oxygen tank and tried to calculate how much time had passed since his last contact with John and Virgil. They’d said half an hour. Must be coming up on that now. He hoped fervently that nothing had gone wrong, that whatever had caused the earth slip here in the cave hadn’t endangered his little brother too.

He took it back. Being out of contact with his brothers was hell. He’d take another month of smothering over this silence. Maybe two.

Maybe he had to admit that he hadn’t been ready. Something had set him on edge and he didn’t think it was the cave in, or the declining oxygen situation. There was something else wrong. What was he missing? Maybe if he was fit, he’d know but today… he cursed his fuzzy brain. The atmospheric sensor in his suit told him it was on the edge of too warm down here now but he was shivery and there were shadows at the very limits of his vision that didn’t line up with the positions of the torches…

He shifted his aching shoulder awkwardly. Ow. Oh! Blood loss! Oh! Maybe it was that. Hopefully it was just something as simple and easily fixed and could-happen-to-anyone as bleeding a little excessively and going wobbly at the edges. Somewhat relieved, and with not insignificant effort he returned his attention to the kids who had begun another passionate debate about something or other. At least they were no longer singing THAT song…

In an effort to get out of doing the actions, he’d had to pretend not to know Baby Shark… Ha! As if he’d had a chance to escape that one with a toddler Gordon in the house…

“TWO IS THE STRONGEST!”

“THREE CAN GO TO THE MOON!”

Hello? Scott perked up. This sounded more like his area.

“THREE IS RED WHICH IS THE BESTEST COLOUR! I’M RIGHT!”

“TWO PUTS OUT FIRES!”

He couldn’t help a quiet chuckle when one of them, he thought it might be Rozi, declared that Thunderbird 3’s pilot was the cutest and that she was going to marry him. Best start running, Allie.

“TWO CAN GO UNDERGROUND!”

Huh?

Outraged squawking resulted which the teacher shushed with a single raised hand. The conversation proceeded at a slightly lower volume.

“Two can’t go underground. You need a mole pod for that”

“Well you can’t have a mole pod without Two. OR Thunderbird Four. Or anything useful. Two carries all the things.”

“THUNDERBIRD TWO HAS POCKETS!” Astra stood and punched the air.

“So does my mum’s handbag, that doesn’t make it COOL.”

Scott barked out a laugh “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Eleven pairs of eyes snapped towards him.

“Which is your favourite Thunderbird, Mr Scott?”

Truthfully? Right now he’d quite like to get an eye-full of green cahelium, but this was a matter of principle.

“One, of course.”

There was a pause while the children considered. Reuben even put his fist to his jaw and gazed upwards in silent contemplation.

“One can go twenty times the speed of sound.” Piped up Sam.

Scott cringed “Uhhhh, well… nineteen times.”

“Why not twenty?”

“It’s just the way she is. After that it gets a bit… explodey.” Scott was sure Brains would back him up on that technical term…

Another pause.

“Well that’s still pretty fast.”

“Yeah but One is tiny and can’t carry a whole lake of water!”

They all turned to their teacher.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Estera had thus far masterfully avoided coming down on either side of the argument, convinced that the devoted fans on the opposing side would never forgive her. She was saved from further dodging by a popping noise and a loud hiss:

“Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One, I am on approach to your location, eta 15 minutes. Do you read?”

The blue-eyed operative - somehow she couldn’t make his name stick in her mind - half raised his right arm then switched to the left, tapped the logo on his uniform and answered, a hint of formality layered over his lighthearted, friendly way of speaking.

“F.A.B. Thunderbird Two, great to hear your voice. Had a minor additional fall down here earlier but we’re all ok.”

There was a little ‘something’ in his voice that the man on the other end clearly noticed too.

“All of you?”

“Absolutely fine, Virgil”

She frowned and cleared her throat.

“Your colleague is favouring his left arm, suspect some damage to his right shoulder or ribs on that side when the debris fell on him”

A deep sigh over the comm.

“Thanks, don’t let him make it worse.”

Mr Friendly-Voice spluttered.

“Et tu, Brute?”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Chapter 5…

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #scott tracy #Estera #Tw: implied violence #Tw: implied historic sa #TB Estera

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n7punk · 6 months ago

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"Lightbeam" Fic Notes

Pretend I posted this *checks watch* two days ago when I finished Lightbeam. I got busy lol and I was playing Stardew Valley.

Epilogue Life:

:) You’ll have to wait

Chapter 1:

⦁ This fic was originally written back in February after Embrace the Blame in preparation for the Bang. TLDR is we needed to have the fics ready early so the artists could then illustrate them, so I just wanted to write the whole thing at once because that’s how my projects work. I actually finished Embrace the Blame a few days before I posted the final chapter(s) because I had been posting it on a schedule and I could just continue using that as I worked on this to make the gap in my posting overall smaller. I think it actually took me like two weeks to write this, which is why there was a week and a half between the end of EtB and start of MMaM (and of course I had to write MMaM some too, but I already wrote the first few chapters ages ago). It’s also why there was almost two weeks between Start Your Engine finishing and Our Love Is God starting. I wrote the entire rough draft in February, and during that break I edited and finalized the fic for posting in May. I also just had a lot going on then, but yeah this fic has been slotted in between my others over the last few months.

⦁ Adora’s father’s information was left blank because she was an immaculate conception. More on this will be explored in the sequel fic <3

⦁ Norwyn is officially unnamed in the reboot I think but he’s one of the higher-ups at Mystacor. In the OG he was Shadow Weaver’s mentor.

⦁ Adora’s weather powers come up a lot in the first few scenes and I wish I had more “diversity” in magical incidents, but the problem is, as outlined later in the fic, Adora has no idea the stuff she’s doing (see: her coffee) and the weather stuff is pretty much the only consistent thing she has identified as maybe her fault. There was initially also mention of a drowning incident she miraculously survived when learning how to swim that even she knew was weird, but it ended up cut for flow.

⦁ In general, magic is normal, inevitable, and accepted, but there are still some “normie” communities that pop up in small pockets and want nothing to do with, say, a lesbian drowning the upper east side by accident on a Wednesday afternoon because she’s sad. Legally they can’t do anything to “discriminate”, but it’s a culture thing. Catra faced constant bullying and Adora was only safe because she didn’t even know if she had magic. Weaver moved there after getting cursed from her own incompetence because they easily believed the story that someone else cursed her and welcomed her in as a victim with open arms. Her understanding along with rejection of magic made her the perfect person to point to justify their ignorance (see, even a once-sorceress can be turned on and reject magic when she realizes the dangers. Etc). The main reason she moved there was just because there was less magic in the area, though (part of the reason a normie community popped up there), so it made it easier to manage her curse because it was weakened.

⦁ Oh boy, the Whispering Woods section. So first, I should say the version in the fic is pretty much what I originally outlined. The only big difference was Adora was supposed to find out about Razz from her research and went seeking her out rather than going there following her “mom.” I couldn’t figure out what that research would look like, though, so I went with the mom thing because that aligned with her backstory. My big problem was that I got a new idea once I got to writing the woods and the new idea was bad but it felt like reversing progress to go back to the original thing. The new idea was that Mara was an ancient She-ra who fell in love with Light Hope and, in her grief when Light Hope died, accidentally transformed her soul into a guardian spirit who would watch over future She-ras and “keep them safe” so they don’t get in a position where they, yknow, accidentally warp time and space and the laws of physics again. Light Hope was the one who actually sent the lightning, sent Catra, and protected Adora when she was drowning when she was seven. Adora would find the hut, would talk in circles with Razz, spot Catra who immediately fled, and get so frustrated and sad it started pouring rain, which forced Catra to flee back in through the window and into Adora’s arms for safety from Razz but she refused to change back because she was mad at her. While waiting out the storm, Adora eventually had the idea to google guardian spirits, found different methods for getting in contact with them, and tried meditation. This is around when I realized this whole set-up was bust, but the idea was going to be that she got in contact with Light Hope, had her powers she wasn’t in touch with explained to her, and told Light Hope to stop the wrath of god shit. Light Hope’s existence kind of wiped out everything I had planned for what was supposed to be the actual fic with her learning her powers. This new backstory changed everything and ruined what I actually wanted to write about, so I went back to my original outline. It’s way better for it and it meant I actually got to do the slow discovering and mastering of her powers I had planned, but boy can it be a struggle to dig yourself out of a hole and lose “progress”.

⦁ Catra eating the pie was actually a joke from before I started working on the fic. The original joke was that she was legitimately visiting the woods just to “steal” food from Razz and this was a thing she did on the weekends sometimes because they all lived nearby. Razz was fine with sharing with her cat “guest” in this version and seemed oblivious to the fact she was a person. This got changed because 1) Even if I changed it so they were all living near the woods and there weren’t barriers to Catra and Adora spending time together early on when she’s reluctant, that then posed the question of why the hell Adora hadn’t tried visiting her mom’s place already if it was easily accessible, 2) while I think Catra taking the pie once she knows about it is in character, her ever wandering through the woods enough to even find Razz to steal from wasn’t, so the basic set up didn’t really work, 3) the final version, with Adora’s powers going haywire and bringing her there, is way more impactful and in line with the fic’s story. It gives Catra a motivation to keep in contact with Adora after this point and illustrates definitively just how powerful Adora’s powers can be when she’s still in denial about the “warping the fabric of reality” thing.

⦁ Agatha Trunchbull was the basically demonic head mistress in Matilda, which, from my understanding, had a fucking torture closet she would lock kids into, in addition to regularly assaulting them like when she clobbered a massive serving tray over a kids head. I haven’t actually read the book, I just knew someone who liked it growing up and I went to the wikipedia to be sure when I went for the reference.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Adora’s spiraling and exaggerating, but empaths do need to actually hold the hand of someone and open their heart to feel their energy, so Adora isn’t likely to ever cause an accidental concussion as long as she’s careful about who she holds hands with.

⦁ “Catra sends her a condescending look that makes Adora blush for some reason.” It’s because you like belittling, idiot.

⦁ Catra’s kitten form is partially a result of trauma and partially natural self-defense. Having such a small form allowed her to hide and slip away when she needed safety from Weaver/bullies/etc. The trauma getting a little better is why she was able to “grow up” a little but she was right that it’s permanent in the sense she will never be able to have an adult form.

⦁ The meditation was actually a lot more helpful than Adora gave it credit for, but again, lack of self-awareness.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Adora’s whole thing about “oh, I’ve never actually experienced this thing I’ve heard talked about” is definitely a realization I’ve had a few times in my life, usually in some medical context though, like when I found out I’d never had an actual runny nose because I’d never breathed through my nose before.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Catra is being especially cuddly as a cat because it’s an “acceptable” way to get snuggled up close so she can then transform and properly cuddle Adora.

⦁ Catra showing up at her door as a cat was literally just because I wanted an excuse to write more kitten!Catra I was ready to be done with her yet lol.

⦁ I’m planning to write a sequel fic set a few years down the line once Catra and Adora are married, but as you know if you’ve been following my Tumblr, I have like three active WIPs demanding attention, so that’s going to have to wait.

⦁ This isn’t related to the fic so much, but this was my first time ever doing a fandom event! There’s definitely zines and stuff I would have wanted to participate in before but I only ever learn about these things after they’re already over lol. I loved being part of this Bang and oh my god do I love the illustrations so much Karo did an INCREDIBLE job. I knew I wanted to participate in the Bang the second I heard about it, but picking a fic was hard. I really wanted to write something in canon but didn’t think any of my current OotW ideas would be long enough for the word count requirement. At that time, I had a canon divergent AU ready to go, but it was Make Me A Monster and I wanted to do something happy so… yeah that was a no go lol even if someone might have wanted to draw the cybernetics. Lightbeam ended up being the perfect option because it was 1) fairly short for an AU but long enough to meet the requirement and post over the week, 2) light-hearted, 3) had plenty of scenes I thought someone might want to illustrate between Adora’s powers and kitten!Catra, 4) I’ll be honest, it kind of felt full circle, because…

⦁ At the start of this year I posted freak occurrence: confluence as a celebration of over three years of posting Catradora fics and finally getting to my fics being 1% of the entire Catradora tag on AO3 (next goal is 1% of the SPOP tag — JOKE THIS IS A JOKE THAT’S NEVER HAPPENING). It featured tons of my Catradora couples from various AUs — including one AU that hadn’t been posted yet. I’d had the freak occurrence fic idea for three years, so whenever I came up with a new AU I’d picture its Catradora in that scenario, which meant I’d already thought about what Lightbeam’s couple would do in that scenario even though I hadn’t written it yet. Getting to post it as part of the Bang was so exciting and I hope it lived up to expectations! The version that was featured in that fic was a few years older, when Adora had a better grip on her magic, but you’ll see a bit of that in the sequel fic.

Meta:

Playlist

Upcoming:

I have a one shot I’m probably going to post in the next couple days and then I’m aiming for Slipstream (my hacker AU) but uh….. Something is coalescing that may also demand attention. Stay tuned ig lol

#lightbeam #fic notes #ficmeta

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formulalfc · 1 year ago

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(Chapter 2 of the Changing Suits Series)

Hope

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Masterlist

an-here's part two for you my loves, hope you like it <3

You had spoken to Charles around two weeks ago and were overjoyed at the fact that Charles seemed enthusiastic about a move to your team.

You had been watching all season, seeing which drivers you think would be up for a move, which drivers would put faith in a new team. A few different drivers had been floating around your mind, but you were unsure if they had the passion that your team needed.

You team was already in talks with Alex Albon, a driver you had put forward due to his ability to get the Williams consistently in the points. He was a driver you knew a lot of people wanted to succeed and you knew that in the Porsche your engineers had designed he could also be a championship contender.

But more importantly you knew that Albon was a team player and with your sights set on Leclerc as your other driver that was exactly what you needed in the team.

After your sit down with Charles you had exchanged numbers and had been communicating over the past two weeks about his potential transfer.

You had sat through meetings with your legal team, nearly pulling your hair out from boredom as they discussed the best ways to get Charles out of his contract without having to pay Ferrari millions that the team couldn’t afford.

You were updating Charles as progress was made each week and when your team sat down with him and his management he came and sat next to you, shaking your hand and greeting you with that smile he had.

You had to admit you found him intimidating and by that you mean you found his beauty intimidating. Not only was he insanely handsome he had this aura about him that made him almost magnetic in a way.

After hours and hours of discussion and debating it seemed as though your team and his management had come to an agreement on the contracts.

You breathed a sigh of relief, you hadn’t had much sleep lately staying up with the other analysts figuring out certain things in an attempt to take off the workload for next year, and so sitting through that meeting felt almost impossible not to sleep through.

People started getting up to leave, parting phrases could be heard from around the room as you stretched out your arms in preparation for you walk to your car.

Charles stood up with you catching your elbow after you had finished putting your coat on, “I just wanted to say thank you for everything, I know you had a lot to do with the team wanting me and you gave me hope when I was just about to lose faith so thank you.”

You stared at him in shock before clearing your throat and telling him, “You don’t need to thank me Charles, it was your talent and drive and passion that got you here, I just happened to notice that talent before anyone else could and when the other teams realise that we managed to sign you they’ll be kicking themselves for not getting to you first. Don’t doubt yourself Charles, you’re here because you deserve to be you look natural behind the wheel and you’re gunna look even better behind the wheel of the Porsche.”

He looked down at you in awe, nobody had ever believed in him like you had and he realised that slowly but surely you were creeping into his heart.

He shook his head as a grin lit up his face before he asked to walk you to your car, you quickly agreed trying not to sound too excited at the thought of spending a bit more time with him.

You walked together out of the Porsche building chatting as he was asking questions about your family, and you were both enjoying each other’s company after the long day of boring contract work. You both made it to your car, and you stopped just outside your door turning around to thank him and wish him a goodnight, but he got there first, “this may seem really soon, and it may in the future turn out to be a really bad idea, but I can’t not ask you because I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Will you go on a date with me?”

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bratshaws · 2 years ago

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through the hourglass 102. brb

a/n: HAH yeah, wow im melting it's so HOT here

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: personal issues that Rooster chooses to ignore, Bea being a good wife again, <3

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64/65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73/74/75/76/77/78/79/80/81/82/83/84/85/86/87/88

/89/90/91/92/93/94/95/96/97/98/99/100/101

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva

His skin felt amazing, he couldn’t help rubbing his face over and over during the night, it was smooth as Nicole’s little hands and that was saying a lot. Speaking of Nicole, she was currently sitting on his lap as he lies on one of the stretchers they had on the patio, staring at the pool wide eyed and mouth parted.

Beatrice’s footsteps came from the door, he turned around just in time to see her approaching, smiling bright and wide. He just opens his arm to show she should sit down next to them, which she does, scooting over to his side and pressing her cheek on his shoulder, all the while holding out her hand for Nikki to hold. When he sighs deeply, Beatrice’s eyes turn upwards, “Everything okay?”

“Everything great.” he replies quietly, “My face feels so soft.”

“And it smells really good.” she adds, “But you always do.”

The brought another smile out of him, followed by a kiss to the top of her head, “Ah…gorgeous. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With his lips still on her scalp he just murmured, “Thank you for being here for me.” he says, his breathing tickling her head and making the strands move a bit “You don’t have to worry so much but you still do.”

“I’m your wife.”

“But still.”

Beatrice pulls back to look at him, furrowing her brows and gently brushing her thumb on his smooth cheekbone, “I love you a lot,Brad.” she whispers, “And I want you to be okay…” her lower lip disappears into her mouth for a few seconds “Can…can I ask you something?”

“Always, gorgeous.”

“Did you…ever go to therapy? I mean I-I- you never um, told me if you did…”

Bradley inhales softly, giving her an almost guilty smile, “Last time I went I was thirteen…then I just stopped going.”

“Oh…can I ask why?”

His eyes dropped to Nicole’s light ones, kissing his daughter’s forehead, “I guess I couldn’t handle some of the stuff the therapist wanted to talk about. I figured that holding it in made more sense, didn’t hurt so much…plus I…I had a fucked up mindset about mental health back then, I didn’t want my friends to know that I had a therapist.”

Beatrice frowns but understands completely, there was this weird stigma back then about taking care of your mental health and understanding you needed to, “I understand.” she says, “Do you think you’d ever…go to one again?”

“Therapy?” she nods, propping her chin on his shoulder and Rooster has to think about it before responding. He never…really thought about going back to therapy in his adult years, then again he did think everything was fine as long as you pushed it further and further away from the main area of your mind.

And it was obvious it wasn’t working.

At all.

Or else they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Part of him felt like he should go ahead and think about it, because he wanted to get better and he wanted to feel like he progressed mentally. But the stubborn part of him refused to admit that it’d help, that it’d be easier to let things go if he talked about it with someone else, someone whom he has no familiarity with…but again, would he want to keep venting to Beatrice?

She was a good person and she cared about him, of course she’d always be there, but it wasn’t healthy to let that sort of info on her so often. Just as it wasn’t healthy to hold it in…he groans, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers because he was giving himself a bad headache, “I’m okay,gorgeous.” he says before she even asks because he can feel her head lifting from his shoulder to give him a better look.

“You sure?”

He laughs humorlessly, “I think so.” he groans one last time before dropping his hand to Nicole’s small back, smiling at his daughter’s relaxed pose against his stomach, her tiny fists under her body - just like Beatrice did - and her eyes blinking closed, “I don’t know…honestly. I…I don’t know if therapy would help me.” lies, his own voice answer, all lies and you know it.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t help me back then.”

“Maybe you didn’t have a good therapist.”

True, she was the school’s therapist who’d much rather be out chain smoking than taking care of any child that wandered into her office, “...maybe.” he mutters, “I don’t know, there are some cans of worms I’d rather keep closed.”

“Roos,” she frowns, “That’s not healthy.”

“...yeah,I know.”

She tsked a bit, “You are the sweetest guy I know…you don’t hide your emotions when it comes to me…why are you doing it to yourself?”

Damn. She was good.

He just blinked at Beatrice in pure shock, because those words felt like a punch to the throat and he lost all ability to speak. His wife was so smart and she could read him so well he wondered why he hid stuff from her. “I…I don’t…know.” he frowns, “Maybe a therapist could answer that, huh?” she smiles as she nods, placing her cheek on his shoulder as both look towards the pool, the gentle rippling of waves made by the night breeze.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it never was, thankfully the two could handle the quietness without fidgeting and wanting to fill it with words that wouldn’t add to anything. She hugs his arm, sighing softly as they hear the crickets chirping in the night, their daughter napping peacefully on Rooster’s stomach, “I’m scared.” she blinks when his voice breaks the silence, turning her head towards him, “I’m scared of talking about it.”

“What?”

“I’m scared…of coming to terms with certain things.” he frowns, still looking ahead, “About Mav, my mom, my life…I fear they’ll overweight my progress. My professional progress I mean…I didn’t needed it before and needing it now seems weird. I know it’ll help me but I’m also nervous of what it’ll bring to the surface.”

Beatrice furrows her brows over his explanation, flicking her gaze away briefly to think before looking back at him, “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but it’d really help Brad.”

“I know.”

“And I know it’s scary…it was scary for me too,sometimes still is. Dr.Varma is an intense yet wonderful professional. Therapists can be like that.”

“Yeah…I guess.” he chuckles again, but immediately furrows his brows, “I don’t know Bea.I like…I can talk to you because I trust you and I love you so much, but I don’t want to overwhelm you with what I have.”

“You don’t overwhelm me.”

“You are my wife, not my therapist.” he says gently, cupping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing alongside her jawline until he reached her plump lips, smiling when she kissed the pad of his thumb, “Ugh,I’m still hesitating.” he drops his hand to Nicole’s back again, adjusting her on his torso so she’d be even more comfortable, “I shouldn’t be.”

“...I have an idea.” he arches his brow in question, “You can have one session with a therapist, doesn’t have to be Dr.Varma if you don’t want to. See how it feels and then…if it works, you continue with it. Does that sound good?”

He thinks about it for a few seconds, licking his lips as he ponders the pros and cons of that suggestion…honestly there were more pros than cons. If it goes well he can continue, maybe he can schedule days when he’s not deployed, he doesn’t want to miss anything with Beatrice and Nikki after all.

“How about this.” Bea speaks again, smiling at him, “Why don’t we wait after the Holidays and after we get back from Virginia?” he blinked at her in surprise, “We’ll be relaxed enough and hopefully you won’t be deployed then,”

“Huh…” he licks his lips, “I like that idea.”

“I thought you might.” she smiles, “I don’t want you to feel pressured,Brad, that’s not what I want,ever, for you…you need to think about it and when you do think about it, you’ll figure out what to do…and I’ll support you no matter what your choice is.” she grins and his heart flutters.

She’s so understanding, she’s so sweet and he’s the luckiest man around.

Both of them however look up when they hear a rumble of thunder, “Again?” He quickly stands to his feet with Nicole clutched to his chest, offering his hand to Beatrice, “It was clear skies minutes ago.”

“Well the weatherman said it’d be rainy this week.” She smiles as she pushes the door open, stepping inside first and Rooster following just behind. Nicole made a noise of complaint in his hold, burying her chubby face into his shirt and only making both of her parents look down at her, “It’s about her bedtime, we better tuck her in.”

Rooster tsked in disappointment, but he agreed with her, closing the door before Beatrice could and then holding her hand as they walked up the stairs. She looked down at their joined palms with her cheeks a soft red, turning her eyes up to see the back of his head and knowing that this meant a lot to him.

This hand holding meant a lot to him, more than he wanted to show.

Beatrice just sighs softly, their soft steps up the stairs mixing with the sound of rain that hit the roof repeatedly signaling that they left their patio just in time for the rain to arrive. Beatrice turns on the light so Rooster can place Nikki in her crib, the little girl stretching her arms and then relaxing once she’s on top of her mattress, breathing in deeply as relaxation took over her tiny body.

Rooster had his arms folded on top of the crib’s railing, chin propped on top and his eyes soft as he looked down at Nicole, his wife silently making her way over to him to peek over his shoulder, “I’ve never seen something more perfect.” he says as Beatrice hugs his torso and places her cheek on his shoulder, the two of them admiring their sleeping infant, “Have you?”

“No,never.”

“And she’s ours.”

“She is.”

He inhales again, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers, feeling Beatrice gently rubbing his bicep to comfort his already stormy thoughts, kissing his cheek quickly, “Come on.” she whispers, “We better go too, we both have to wake up early tomorrow.” she holds his hand again and Rooster lets her guide him away from there, kissing the back of her head as they leave the room, “Rooster!”

He wraps his arms around her waist and walks along with her to their bedroom,well, more like they waddle towards their room. They laugh, muffledly to not wake Nicole up - Eleanor even peeked out of the nursery to give them an ugly look because to the dog, that was more noise than she’d like - with Beatrice leaning against his chest and brushing her hand on his face, “I love you.” he whispered, kissing her cheek, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too Roos.” she whispered, turning on the lights and finally breaking free from her husband’s hold to walk deeper into the room and sit down on the bed. Rooster follows the same steps and plops down next to her and both of them fell back on the mattress in unison, his hand immediately reaching out for hers, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

“You know.” she turns her head towards him when he speaks, “Maybe the trip to Virginia will be good to ease my mind.” he mutters, “I can think better that way…hopefully I won’t be too worried about it anymore.”

Beatrice turns to lie on her shoulder, bringing their joined hands so she could prop her cheek on top, “As long you are okay.”

“I am okay.” he says softly, “I am much better than before…” and his eyes stop to look at her, those big green eyes with thick lashes that made him weak in the knees, the plump pink lips that always looked ready to be bitten and kissed, the button nose that crinkled whenever he tapped it, “You helped. A lot.”

She gave him a small smile, kissing his knuckles, “I’m glad…sometimes all we need is a skin care routine with your family.” they laugh again, a bit louder this time since they were far from Nicole’s room.

“Yeah.” he touches his extremely soft face again, arching his brows, “My face smells nice, like pomegranates.”

“Those are the best face masks.” she says, adjusting herself so she’s lying on the pillow instead of the mattress, watching as Rooster did the same, sighing softly as the softness surrounded him…and it was hard to keep his eyes open after that, but Beatrice didn’t mind.

She just watches as his chest moves evenly and his eyes finally slip shut, smiling and leaning closer to kiss his forehead, “Good night,Roos.” she whispers on his skin, “Sleep well.”

Luckily, he fell asleep quite quickly after their conversation, in fact he fell asleep too quickly, mid conversation with Beatrice. He had no nightmares, but instead he had a dream…a dream of a house, maybe a ranch? He saw horses, lots of trees, bushes filled with fruits and even a large lake in the distance.

And he saw Nikki,albeit a bit older, maybe around three or five, with a straw hat on her head eating fresh strawberries as she overlooked something on a hill. It didn’t look like it was anywhere he knew though, the mountains in the distance looked different, more…European.

Like the ones he’d see in Italy during their honeymoon.

He groans a bit in his sleep, stretching his body while still in bed only to feel the presence next to him move closer, that delicious smell of lavender entering his nose and making a smile spread over his lips, “Mornin’ gorgeous.” his thick with sleep voice murmured, nuzzling her hair and kissing her scalp, “Did I wake you?”

“Hmhm…” she says sweetly, blinking her eyes open towards him, “But it’s fine. How did you sleep?”

He drops the hand currently moving through the sandy brown strands with a happy sigh, “Honestly? Pretty good.” he smiles, turning to face her and gently rubbing his thumb on the corner of her eyes, seeing there were tiny pieces of hair clinging to them, “I had a dream that we were in a ranch of some sort.”

‘Oh?”

“Yeah, but not here,” he clears his throat to wake it up from the disuse, “It was…maybe Italy, I saw those mountains from Palermo…and Nikki was there too, but older, like three years old. She looked beautiful, she looked a lot like you.” he blinks his eyes a bit, “It was really nice.”

Beatrice smiles as she props her chin on his shoulder, “Well, my great grandparents had a ranch in Italy when my nonna was younger…did I tell you that?”

“I think you did.”

“Maybe you were remembering things and joining them because you liked Italy that much.” she grins, pecking his lips twice before sitting on her knees, “I’m going to take a quick shower and then-” she pulls her hair up in a bun, “I’ll prepare breakfast, sounds good?”

“I can do it.”

“You have work today,Roos.” she says as soon as she’s out of the bed, adjusting the shirt on her body and shuffling to the bathroom after grabbing her clothes from the closet, “You don’t have to worry about that,handsome.”

Bradley huffs a soft laugh, sitting on the bed to watch her move around, “Bea.” he calls before she disappears into their bathroom, “Want some company?”

And her hesitation was the best thing because he could see she was turning the cogs in her head, because of time and because of what they could do…she was considering it, “Well…it is five in the morning.” he’s climbing out of the bed like a big cat ready to pounce, “And…Nikki is still asleep.” he ‘hum’ positively, getting even closer, “And…breakfast won’t take that long.”

“Nope,it won’t.”

“Although,” she presses a hand on his chest when he’s close enough, “We can’t spend too long here, so…um, you know. And-” she squeaks in surprise when he just picks her up and carries her to the bathroom, “Roos!”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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omgfloofy · 1 year ago

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State of the WIPs

A lot of my writing has stalled due to work, chronic pain in my foot, and Tears of the Kingdom. It’s really hard to be creative on stuff.

But I figure it’s time to give some progress reports on the WIPs I’ve got going at the moment. Especially since I’ve not talked about them in awhile. Everything will be behind the cut.

dal segno al coda

This is the monster fic. Of course. I’m currently at 99,462 words currently in the draft files for the three sections. This does not include the out of place snippets that haven’t been written into the main story or content from the original draft file that I want to keep. All in all, I’ve written over 200k words for this story, but not all of it will be kept in the long run.

Currently about 95% of the story is outlined, though. Which makes life much easier for me in some parts.

There are sections for Lunafreya that I’ve been writing in part 1 that lean heavily in the spy / political thriller type genre. This is a type of story I absolutely love but feel a little overwhelmed dabbling in. So part of my ‘research’ for this has included reading stories in this genre.

Additionally, I’ve been working on sections of part 3 that I can’t really post any WIP content for, since I need to keep as much of it as secret as possible. However, I’ve also written the last chapter and the epilogue. Those were things I couldn’t shake. And there’s a Meanwhile, Elsewhere... chapter that is post-story. On top of that, I’ve also written a post-segno side story that may, or may not be published some day.

I’m clearly having too much fun dabbling around in the mental images I’ve got of the post-story time period for Eos. I don’t know if I want to publish these things because I don’t want to color what other people end up imagining post-segno Eos to be like.

Additionally, the story ended up needing the creation of an original character. I’ve named him Valens.

I was able to get an incredible commission from @teapots-and-hats for his design. And while I don’t want to post the whole art yet for reasons, I do at least want to post this portrait at the very least and a small snippet that features him that may, or may not, be kept in the final version of the story.

That chill ran down his spine again as the swordsman looked towards his advisor. Somehow, despite not being able to actually see his eyes, Noctis just knew that he could tell where the man was looking. This meant that somehow - impossibly - this man had magic. To make matters worse, it was somehow resonating with his own.

"You're impossible," Noctis mumbled softly, as he started to make some connection over this black haired, black leather clad stranger. This drew the attention of the swordsman and this time, Noctis felt like his breath had simply been taken from him. All of that magic he could feel was turned on him in an instant.

"Am I?" As the swordsman approached, Noctis began to feel his legs buckle again. It was not from a physical force this time, but instead the sheer overwhelming presence that buried itself into the very core of his being.

Noctis just wanted to shout for Luna and Ignis to stay away! Stay far away! However, he found himself frozen within the stranger’s overwhelming power and he was unable to even speak a single word.

Once he was near Noctis, the masked swordsman settled onto a knee and reached out with a gloved hand to gently wrap leather-clad fingers around Noctis' chin and force the prince to look up at him. Noctis fought hard to keep his eyes forward and not recoil under the magic being pressed against him.

"I'm not the one who is out of time," the swordsman's words were heavy and cleanly punctuated.

Of course, Noctis thought angrily to himself. Of course he knows.

Oh yeah. I’ve also got a set of special dividers integrated into the workskin I’ve been working on for segno. It’s not the ones I’ve used here, but they do use this same style. I might as well use this as a preview as well, right? They have a very special purpose, and I’m eager for those to be seen as well. However, I want to keep the actual dividers a bit of a secret still.

Last, but not least, I’ve been in the process of designing and planning a ruins to kind of serve as a ‘final dungeon’ of the story. Sort of. It’ll make more sense down the line, I promise.

Speaking of the ending. That’s actually written. I know exactly where I’m going in segno now. I just need to get there.

You can find other stuff I’ve posted about this story under the tag ‘#dal segno al coda stuff’

Twilight

This little AU that has the chapter by chapter ‘end of life’ story for Noctis in an AU where he survived the end of the game. An important aspect of the story is that he gave up his royal title and has begun living a hermit-like lifestyle in Duscae while hiding his true identity.

I promised a bunch of other side stories and I finally got Granting Another Light out not too long ago.

There are multiple shorts that I’ve got outlined and need to finish. They have the following titles:

A Quiet Morning - This details Noct’s morning routine late in the story. Just a simple bit of fluff with no real direction. It just adds color to the whole story.

A New Restart - This is the short about the “incident” that was mentioned in the main story where Noct blew his cover, and how it forced him to change his lifestyle.

The Puzzle Box - The making of a certain puzzle box that has an important role in the main story.

Some Things Never Change - Noct runs into Sania after a job. The worst part is she recognizes him.

There are still three more stories worked up that don’t have titles yet. And a fourth that’s just going to be a bunch of random texting shorts between Noct and his friends.

Inconvenient Blessings

This will be a small pre-canon one-shot that is Regis-centered, following Regis and Clarus at a special event for a Children’s Day celebration, where little 6-year old Noctis is with them due to the holiday.

It features a very clear moment of “kids say the darnedest things.” And when that kid is the Crown Prince, those little things can be more troublesome than normal.

This may be the final outcome from an incomplete and untitled story that I finally posted to AO3 sometime ago. This little short explores the idea that the general public likely has superstitions around the Lucian royalty and their divine connections with the Crystal. And children mucking that up.

Nothing is fully written on it, but this has been outlined and it’s ready to start. I just need to get it more clearly in my head so that I can begin writing on it.

Untitled Psych Horror Story

This 5-chapter jaunt that I’ve started working on delves into psychological horror, which I’ve never played around with in writing before. I’m a little excited with the idea of the story, but a bit nervous on it at the same time. This is because it’s a genre I’ve never written before. However, once the idea for this story got into my head, and the more I played around with ideas for it, the more I found myself wanting to actually write the damn thing.

The most important thing that has me very daunted on this story is that I feel like I’m invoking stuff I’ve come across from other fic writers like @breakfastteatime and @every-lemon and I’m a little terrified and hope I can do their works justice. (by the way, read their fics, they’re amazing.)

---

"Iris," Gladio mumbled as he walked into the living room and saw her lounging on the sofa with a magazine. It looked very... off from the kind of thing she'd read. Cover lines on it included topics such as Increased Spam Calls to Insomnian Citizens Require Legislative Intervention and The Ideals of the Lucian Royalty: A Bygone Dream.

"Hey, Gladdy," she said cheerfully from behind the magazine, but yelped as he abruptly pulled it from her hands.

"What's got you reading this kind of shlock?"

"What are you talking about, give that back!" It wasn't too hard for the older of the siblings to hold the magazine out of reach.

Gladio looked at the magazine to show her the cover lines, when he stopped short after glancing at it again. The cover was now different from what he had seen before. It had originally looked like some sort of business magazine, but now? It was just a local fashion magazine. He quickly flipped through the pages to make sure he was seeing things. When he convinced himself that he was, in fact, imagining it, he just tossed it back onto Iris' lap.

"What's gotten into you, Gladio?" Iris sat up on the sofa as she snatched the magazine into a hand.

Gladio rubbed at the side of his head. "I'm not sure. Today's been a very odd day."

---

So there you go. A bunch of stuff on works that I’ve got on the sidelines and the monster fic itself. I’m always happy to answer questions in my ask box for these stories, as well. Especially since some of them are now playing with canon and stuff that was never really fully fleshed out in the original game.

#fic writing #dal segno al coda stuff #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ffxv fanfic #wip #fic work in progress

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quiet-in-the-wild · 1 year ago

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I have had the worst indecision for the past several months about my career path

I’ve tried so much - getting guidance, journaling, just jumping in- every time I get started I feel like I should be doing something else instead

So then I make no progress on anything

So what’s behind the indecision - what’s blocking me.

I feel like this started in July after I made some pretty significant growth in healing from my childhood trauma. I felt like I wanted more for myself. Like I wanted more stability, more reliability in my career. I felt ready for more.

I started out wanting to create a website/online workshop for neurodivergent folks, and film some classes & so I could have some passive income & start building more of a community with my peer support.

But then I was overwhelmed with creating a website- nervous about filming myself, and the cost for creating a workshop was pretty expensive.

And I felt like I had to choose- I had to make a choice between art and peer coach

Then I hit the slowest patch in peer support coaching I’ve ever had. No instagram engagement, no one was seeing my stuff, no one was booking sessions.

So I thought I need a job where the algorithm doesn’t decide if I get paid. It took a long time to figure out what I even would want to do- I’ve been self employed for 10 years. I took some certifications in DEI but didn’t like the idea of working for a corporation- then finally figured out what I wanted to look for working at a university in a queer/student center

I got panicked about having literally no clothes to interview/work. I got discouraged because there were no hyper specific jobs I wanted. I felt guilty because I would need to ask for a ride every day, and I had a major health flare up which made me feel like I couldn’t rely on my body to be able to go into work every day. Every single day I wake up my health is chaotic. Some days I’m completely fine and have energy some days I’m bed bound & comes on so suddenly I can’t predict it. And most days I’m literally blacking out out every single time stand up

So I focused on art for a bit- and suddenly my sales dropped the most that they have in 4 years. What was a steady income suddenly stopped. And right now- November is usually my biggest month & helps me and I’ve made 4 sales so far - instead of 300+ but I know it’s bad for so many artists right now.

I tried writing a book. I’ve been working on this book idea I’ve had for about 3 years. I wrote a whole book proposal, and outline. I did research on publishing. I wrote 6 chapters. But suddenly I had 3 separate book ideas. I got bored of the one I was writing because I solved the ending. But I hadn’t developed the others enough to write them. So I couldn’t decide on which one to work on. I tried to do NaNoWriMo but I’ve been sick a lot this month. & I have written since November 7

I’m really into tarot & offer paid readings. I have an idea to create a paetron for my tarot readings- market it on my instagram but I know deep down that’s not reliable or steady.

I know I could do a lot of these - but I keep getting stuck and feeling like a different one is better.

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

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Okay so I just caught up with Beyond, chapter 4 straight up made me cry. Like not in a watery eyes kinda way but straight up fat Studio Ghibli tears running down my face kinda way. The way you wrote readers progression of her loneliness went straight to my heart. Like yes their marriage is fake but she still expected a friend at least, and to not have that and to keep coming home to an empty house most of the time or her and Steve passing each other like ships must have felt so isolating. And on the one day she really needed his presence and comfort only for him to wave if off as if Hopper’s presence was equivalent to his really broke my heart. GREAT JOB! Seriously, I love when the writing is so spot on my tears ducts activate - thats how I know I have connected to what I’m reading. So thank you I love your writing! I love the way you brought resolution by Steve cooking (he called his mom ahaha) for her and acknowledging what he did wrong and how readers presence brings him comfort too. I love that they know their previous interactions are not sustainable for 3 years and that they both are on the same page and WANT TO CHANGE TOGETHER! That there is the start of a real marriage! I’m here for it! Anyway this was so long - if tldr basically: I said you made me cry, I thanked you and I loved your writing!

First of all, thank you for taking the time to write up something as lovely as this. I literally grinned so wide, because I thought this fic would be like…four chapters max, but I’m having so much fun developing them from the ground up, so to see anyone enjoy it is the best feeling ever.

Spoilers for chapter four of Beyond below the cut…

I was really excited for them to have a little bit of a “fallout” before they can really come together. I couldn’t imagine three years with someone you wave to every morning, so good on them for being adults and realizing they need to figure out how they’ll do this together.

And who knows, maybe fall in love along the way?

I’m really happy R’s loneliness came across. And the disappointment over Hopper being the one to pick her up. To some, it might be a “small thing.” But I think it’s understandable she’d want the person she’s been living with for two months, who made a commitment to be there, to be the one to pick her up.

Psh. Haha him calling his mom—poor guy didn’t know what to do. He’s two months in and struggling out here. He’ll figure it out though.

Agh. Thank you again! Thank you so much. 🩷🩷

#luna’s loves

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moonndust · 2 years ago

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gonna put out my honest thoughts about my current progress in fire emblem engage bc i need to talk about how silly this game is

i’m only at chapter 7-8 btw and i’ve already spoiled myself half of the plot

i couldn’t choose between f!alear or m!alear bc their designs were.. something. i chose f!alear for my first run since i did the “same ingame gender as irl gender” thing (and it was an entire tradition for me at some point).

didn’t even reach chapter 6 and f!alear’s design was too much for me. i liked seeing her in a ponytail tho but i was not gonne be patient enough to change her class JUST for the ponytail. like girlie ik ur the divine dragon n shit but atleast try to not get your long ass hair pulled midway in battle.

and wtf is your armor??? you have individual boob cups for what?? your entire outfit does not look an ounce comfortable and yet you still slept in that shit. the short ass skirt too?? the stocking things??? there are like 10 design atrocities and i could even name more (and that’s just on a scale of practicality)

made a new save file and chose m!alear bc i was getting tired of f!alear’s entire armor outfit. ngl i preferred playing as m!alear bc he felt a lot more comfortable playing as an mc. but his entire victorian child fit wasn’t the best but it was more practical than the boob cups.

still mad there’s no unisex mcs.

anyways the prologue was kinda funny. our ass just wakes up and suddenly the world is in shambles bc some salty ass kingdom made sombron become the second coming of jesus christ.

queen lumera only had like.. 2 seconds of screentime until the ultimate mentor/parent death trope scene bc dead parental figures are a must for fire emblem mcs (unless ur sigurd and become the dead parent)

the firene siblings appeared. albert is precious and céline is lowkey on thin ice because of that damned outfit. like maybe wear something more practical in battle other than easy hair pulling and frilly dress?? (i know i can change her class but i’m a lazy bum). im still currently trying to know my way around albert’s skill set but he’s a good unit atm.

the twins are splendid little creatures. clanne got too many mvps and is still on the mvp streak ever since i paired him with celica (i abused warp ragnarok too many times). framme is just there for moral support and actual healing support.

vander’s lvl 1 grandpa ass was actually doing decent damage comapred to lvl 6 alear. you don’t know how many times vander had to come in clutch when alear was 3 hp away from evaporating.

i paired albert w/ sigurd and clanne w/ celica. that shit was game changing. i revoked céline’s emblem privileges for no reason. i just gave celica to clanne since he technically did more damage. he is like low tier but he’s my biggest carry atm. how the turns have tabled.

i changed alcryst’s class to tireur d’élite the second i got his lvl 10 ass. i’m pretty sure he might be my strongest unit atm (lvl wise).

idk who i should pair micaiah with so i just let her stay with yunaka. i never rlly used micaiah’s abilities for healing but i only used her to widen yunaka’s range w/ magic if she needed to chip in some damage to an enemy.

i always get tired at like the 7th turn in every battle and I just abuse celica’s warp ragnarok to beat up that one enemy to win the battle. somehow clanne still deals big damage w/o the engage boosts.

listen i have no clue what they fed the stewards but i am now afraid of them with my every being.

jean and anna r just there. jean doesn’t do shit bc i alr have framme. ik that jean might be decently better than framme but i don’t want his lvl 1 ass dying every single time. anna is a pretty good backup for chain attacks actually. but everytime i see her i get reminded of her commander version from heroes (bc it was my first fe game)

i spent the good majority of my bond fragments on arena emblem bonds w/ my current lineup bc i gotta get those big boi skills n shit. i also watched my units kill each other bc ig that’s a thing now. (i witnessed alcryst beat the shit out of céline)

sommie is a silly little fart.

still waiting on the day i get lucina’s emblem. i want to witness a gang fight.

outside of all the cutscenes, the game has the animation budget of 2 dollars.

i feel like i should make a seperate post on fe13 design atrocities and impracticalities (im bad at character design)

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wishesunderthestars · 4 years ago

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Eunoia // Ch. 14

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

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

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

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

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

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You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

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You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

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

The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

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

You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts #bts hybrid au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

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