#i just realized i think part of why ive felt so extra isolated lately is because i dont have any in person autistic friends

[bittsandpieces]

.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXIII

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

XXIII.

Alastair watched his sister play with her dolls on the rug in the sitting room from the second to last step on the landing. A safe distance away from the fire, her small voice filled the room with color that it sorely lacked. Since their father’s return from wherever it was he had been for the past year, their furniture (what furniture they had) started to disappear.

Cordelia, being only eight hardly noticed. Not when her father’s attention became more of a pressing matter, but Alastair being ten years old and having been the one to mind the estate after their staff stopped showing up and Sona fell into another one her deep depressions, he began to notice.

And he could only suspect one person responsible.

After being satisfied that Cordelia was out of ear range, Alastair turned and jogged up the stairs two at a time. He noted the sconces on the walls were missing along with the bulbs except for one left unprotected and obnoxiously bright without a cover. The rug that ran along the hallway was gone as well leaving the floor bare so that every footstep and noise could be heard. Alastair took a deep breath through his nose and steadied himself.

He’d secretly hoped that his mother would be the one to address the issue, but she hardly seemed to notice the missing things, or if she did, she didn’t feel the need to mention it. The house grew colder and colder by the minute despite his father's enormous presence to fill it.

A part of him chastised himself for not being more elated about his father’s return. The rest of his family members seemed to be, but because of his illusive absence for the past year with no explanation about where he’d gone and the stink of alcohol lingering on his vest, something deep in Alastair’s chest froze towards his father.

Others may be warmed by his false promises and elaborate stories, but he knew the truth. Call it a gift of his, he could see past the pretense his father shoveled in front of everyone to hide his sins.

When he reached the oak door at the end of the hall, with a shaking fist, he knocked.

At first no sound came, so he knocked again; louder this time.

A shuffle could be heard inside. Glass shattering against the floor followed by a string of cursing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, father,” said Alastair. “I need to speak with you.”

“What’s this about?”

Alastair placed a hand on the handle. “May I come in?”

“Is this important?”

“It is,” said Alastair lifting his jaw.

“Very well,” said his father.

Alastair turned the knob and pushed his way inside. The bitter, sweet smell of freshly spilt whiskey hit him and burned his eyes. He resisted the urge to cover his nose with a handkerchief.

His father wobbled on his hands and knees attempting to clean up a spill with his pocket cloth, but moving as if he were on a very unsteady ship. Red rimmed eyes looked up at Alastair and a grin curved around his father’s face.

“What is it?” He slurred as he fell backwards against the wingback chair that happened to be the only piece of furniture in the room beside the beverage cart sitting beside the window. “Am I late for supper?”

“It’s nearly noon, father,” said Alastair. “I’m here because it appears that our household items have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Elias squinted up at his son.

“Yes.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As in gone.”

“Like what?”

“My writing desk, Cordelia’s doll house,” said Alastair. “Mum’s good China, the Tehran crafted weapons, the silver, and where’s the furniture that used to be in this room?”

“Alastair—“

“If you’re pawning our household items to support your drinking then—“ It wasn’t a question of if, nor was it an accusation. Alastair knew the truth, he knew even if he didn’t want to believe it.

“Then what?” asked Elias. “Go on, boy, finish your sentence.”

“You’ll not take one more thing from this house,” said Alastair.

Elias scoffed and attempted to push himself up from the floor when his hand landed on a piece of glass. Elias hissed and fell backwards again onto the floor. “Bloody hell!” He held his hand up, dripping now with fresh blood. “Don’t just stand there. Get me something to stench this with.”

Alastair sighed and walked across the room to the beverage cart. A towel hung from the silver handle, stained with spilt alcohol, Alastair grabbed it and brought it over to his father.

“Where is your steele?” asked Elias as he ripped the towel from Alastair’s hand.

“I don’t have one with me,” said the boy.

“What kind of Shadowhunter doesn’t carry around his steele?”

“I’m nearly ten, father,” reminded Alastair. “I’m hardly a Shadowhunter yet. I can go find yours if you’d like.”

Elias took the towel away from his hand and examined the wound in his palm. “No, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve clearly more pressing matters to attend to. Have you spoken to your mother about these missing items?”

“I haven’t wanted to trouble her—“

“Only me?” asked Elias. “I suppose I deserve that.” He got slowly and unsteadily to his feet. When he stepped backwards a few steps, Alastair had to stop himself from reaching out towards him. He looked like a toddler learning to walk for the first time.

The question dangled on Alastair’s tongue as he watched his father pitch forward and back like an aged ship on angry seas: why did he insist on drinking? When did he become a drunk? Alastair, honestly, couldn’t remember. There’d been a time when sobriety found him for a few months and then he’d be back on the streets again. Alastair was seven years old the first time he picked him up from the porch steps when he passed out before he’d made it inside. The first time, he’d thought it kind of comical, by the third time that week, he found it frightening. And now, he wanted to ask his father why. Why weren’t they enough for him? What was his father chasing that could be found or forgotten at the bottom of a bottle?

Alastair feared he might never know.

     _ _ _

The pocket watch ticked inside Alastair’s palm where he sat on the sofa in the drawing room waiting for Cordelia and Lucie to enter through the door. It was five past three; the time they were supposed to return. Questionably, James hadn’t returned either. Alastair knew he should have trusted his instincts over his sister’s word, but he’d allowed himself to feel marginally guilty about upsetting Cordelia.

How could she not understand he was simply trying to do what was best for her? She clearly wasn’t thinking straight— and to be honest she never had when it came to the Herondale boy. It would be over his dead body that he’d ever see James hand-in-hand with his sister.

No, not even then.

Alastair shoved his watch back into his pocket, stood from the chair retrieving his jacket from the arm, and marched towards the door.

“Oh,” said a voice behind him. “Are you leaving too?”

Alastair turned to find Thomas descending the stairs in his full fighting gear. His soft brown hair was combed back away from his face and curling slightly behind his ears. His scarred hands were adjusting the straps across his broad chest that just barely fit across him. Alastair swallowed and quickly averted his eyes to his shoes and then the front door.

With a strange pitch in his voice, Alastair said, “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“I came with my parents to meet the Herondales,” said Thomas tucking in the extra bit of leather left at the end of his strap. “I thought Christopher, Matthew, and James would be here, but it appears I am at a loss. Miss communication.”

“James is with Matthew on patrol,” said Alastair. “At least that’s what I was told.”

Thomas looked off to the side. “Then I’m sure that’s the truth of it. Where are you headed?”

“I’m supposed to meet my sister at the other Lightwood’s estate,” said Alastair. “She’s running a bit behind so I figured I’d spare her the trouble and catch her there.”

“I’m on my way there as well,” said Thomas. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Surprised, all words evaporated from Alastair’s mind. When he managed to find them again, a bright color had emerged in his cheeks. “Are you quite sure. I don’t mind finding my own way there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Thomas reaching for the door knob. “We’re going in the same direction, not on an outing together, there’s no reason for us to take two separate carriages to the same destination.” Thomas opened the door and without waiting for Alastair to respond, he walked out onto the front steps.

Still slightly shocked, Alastair combed a hand through his hair, picked up his cane, and followed.

“What plans do you and Cordelia have today?” Thomas asked from atop the bench seat of his parent’s carriage.

Alastair, who’d chosen to remain quiet despite the kindness being extended to him, focused on the main road as he answered. “I’m not sure. She mentioned something about going to a park.” He was quite certain that was all that was going on between them. Perhaps his parents conjured him into being kind to the injured, isolated, and troubled Carstairs boy. Perhaps this was some sort of revenge and Thomas had alternative plans of dropping him into the Thames.

“It’s a lovely day for the park—“

“What are you doing?”

Thomas’s eyebrow jumped. “Excuse me?”

“This?” Alastair motioned between them. “This show of uncharacteristic kindness. I can tell it’s not genuine. Who put you up to this?”

Thomas sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I felt badly for the way I spoke to you the other day.”

Alastair had to fight to keep the shock from his face. “You felt bad? Thomas, you have nothing to feel badly about.”

“Perhaps,” said Thomas, “but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair I was being towards you. Do not misunderstand me, this is not me granting you pardon for what you did, but rather an understanding.”

“Why?”

“Because when you created those lies about my father,” said Thomas, “I created lies for him, or what I thought were lies to help repair some of his reputation. My father, who is an upstanding citizen by most regards, and truly a wonderful father, and I was making up all kinds of lies to protect him even though I knew the rumors about him were lies— even though I believed him. I can’t imagine if the rumors were actually true.”

He didn’t have to say it. Alastair had long since learned to read between the lines of what someone was saying to him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” said Alastair shortly.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” said Thomas, never removing his eyes from the road, “and I don’t pity you. I’m merely saying that I understand. In a way, I understand.”

With the wind brushing against his face, Alastair felt a weight of sorts brush off of him.

“I am sorry for what I’ve done to your family and Matthew’s,” said Alastair. “I’ve been minding my father’s reputation since I was a boy.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Thomas. “I know why I fought for my father’s reputation, but yours was an actual alcoholic.”

Alastair bristled. “Alcoholic or not, he is still my father.”

“I’m sorry if I offended—“

“You didn’t offend,” said Alastair. “I suppose I fought so hard to protect him for so long that I simply forgot how to not to. I’d been able to keep up a pretense about my father that at the first sign of trouble, my instinct was to defend him, and the only way I knew how to do that was to put the spotlight onto someone else. If I’m being honest, it wasn’t him I was trying to protect.”

“Yourself?” asked Thomas, as he steered the horse down an empty brick paved street.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair. “I was trying to protect Cordelia. She grew up believing that our father was someone to be admired. She held him on the same pedestal that the Herondale children held their father. I made sure that she never knew about his… illness.”

“Does she know now?”

“She does,” said Alastair. “I couldn’t protect her forever.”

“No,” said Thomas, drawing the horse to a stop at the brick pathway leading to a white gated entrance to a garden. “I suppose you can’t.”

Alastair looked up at the beautiful ivy crested veranda and tried to remember what had caused him to go fetch Cordelia in such a hast. Surely, she was all right with Lucie and if she was in fact with James, perhaps it was high time that she started worrying about her own mistakes. And if she needed him, he would surely be there for her.

“Perhaps I’ll wait here,” said Alastair. “While you go fetch Christopher.”

From the ground now, Thomas looked up at Alastair as he tied the horse to a post. “Would you like me to get Cordelia for you?”

“No,” said Alastair, adjusting his coat. “I shouldn’t trouble her. She’ll return when—“

Before he could finish his sentence, a high pitched scream came from inside the house. Thomas and Alastair both looked in the direction of which it had come and then back at each other.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair as he swung himself down from the driver’s bench as Thomas drew a steele from the strap on his shoulder and whispered its name to it. It burst to light in his hand, accenting his face in a halo of light.

The two men stalked up to the open front door: Alastair at the front, with Thomas trailing closely behind him, both of them scanning their surroundings.

Upon entering the house, it didn’t appear that anything was out of place through the kitchen. There was no sign of a scuffle or demon activity. Even though he didn’t know him all that well, Alastair wouldn’t put it past the odd glasses wearing one to release a demon during one of his poorly executed experiments.

They inched through the kitchen into the short hallway that went through to the sitting room. Attached to the room was a staircase and from the second floor, they could hear an exchanging of voices.

Alastair broke for the stairs at a run with Thomas close behind him. He followed the direction the voices were coming from and turned to the left, stopping at a door that was partially opened. He was seconds from storming it, when Thomas grabbed him by the coat tail and wretched him back.

“Wait,” said Thomas and stepped in front of him, “listen.”

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and centuries of old lies. “Not unless you want me to start breaking bones in their bodies starting with the smallest.”

Thomas grabbed Alastair’s arm and mouthed a name. “Belial.”

Suddenly, the door slammed in front of Alastair and he heard the faint sound of the lock.

“We don’t have much time. I have a very short window back into my realm and we’ll need to be going now. That is if you want your friends to live.”

“Lucie,” said a male voice that Alastair could not recognize. “Don’t go with him. I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be alive.”

“How rude,” said Belial. “Do you have any idea how hard your mother and sister worked to bring you back to life. The least you could do is be more grateful.”

“If I go with you.” The voice was clearly Lucie’s and if Lucie was in there then so would Cordelia. “If I agree to do what you ask, you’ll promise to leave them alone?”

“You have my word,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and century old lies.

Thomas glanced at Alastair and pointed at the medieval spear hanging on the wall in the hallway. Alastair reached up and pulled it carefully from it’s hooks as Thomas took several steps back, picked his foot up, and kicked their way through the lock with his heel in a single, impressive stomp. As Thomas reached for Lucie, pulling her away from the mysterious figure in the center of the room, Alastair threw the spear with every ounce of his might.

He watched it spiral through the air, quick as an arrow, and then stop mere inches from Belial’s chest. A wicked grin curled around the handsome face, as the spear evaporated and then reappeared faster then Alastair could blink.

It was warm, that was the first thing he thought about. Warmth spreading across his back and his chest. His eyes searched the room for Cordelia, but he couldn’t find her face amongst the ones he could not recognize. Everyone stared at him, the pale haired girl Grace and a dark haired boy sitting beside her looked on at him terrified. His eyes drifted to his left where Thomas held Lucie tightly in his arms both gaped at him horrified. He tried to say something, but his lungs had stopped expanding. When he looked down at his chest, he could see where the warmth had come from. The end of the spear protruded from his chest.

“Alastair!” Thomas yelled.

“Go,” he said, as rust flavored saliva dripped from between his lips. “Go now.”

“Release the girl,” said Belial, with his arms crossed and a rather bored expression on his face, “and the boy lives.”

Thomas’s grip on Lucie faltered just slightly.

“Don’t,” said Alastair. “He’s lying.”

“Let me go, Thomas,” said Lucie. “Let me go. He won’t let him die, he won’t if it means he can have me.”

“Listen to the girl, Thomas,” said Belial. “Save your friend and sacrifice the other or lose both.”

Alastair could see the turmoil in Thomas’s gritted teeth and reddened face, still his hands were white knuckled around Lucie. He wouldn’t let her go. Not unless—

Lucie brought her head forward and swung it back against Thomas’s sternum. With a quick maneuver of her feet, she twisted under his grip and shoved him off balance into the wall.

“Let them go,” said Lucie, her hair loose from it’s braid now and falling around her face giving her the appearance of a mad woman. “Let him live and I’ll go with you.”

Belial grinned and with a slight nod of his head, he and Lucie blinked from the room like a flash of lightning. Alastair was released from the spear in the wall and fell crumpled to the ground on his knees. His hands went to his chest to feel for the wound, but while the blood and hole in his shirt were still there, the wound and weapon were not.

A/N: Hope I redeemed myself just a little bit. Next update comes out 12/20

[taetae-tea]

The One (Part IV)

Part III <- Part IV –> Part V

Genre: Hybrid!Taehyung, (soul)mate!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, smut 

Paring: TaehyungXreader

Word-count: 3,5K

Warnings: Abuse, unjust, anxiety, force, animalistic feelings, panic-attacks, indication of mating, a dilemma to chose between heart or mind

Summary: You’ve never liked the idea of hybrids, since it’s straight up abuse from a owner to a hybrid, they aren’t treated like humans. But what happens when your boss gave you a hybrid as a gift?

A/N: Hope y’all are having a great christmas xx Enjoy this next part of The One <3

Masterlist

What happened in Pt.III of The One

‘I want to be with you, marry you, have kids with you, go to thin and thick with you. Everything ___-’

‘Give me 2 days, 2 days to let me think about it all. Don’t force me, don’t try and effect my answer because we both know you will win it that way. I want to solve this problem with a proper mind-set.’ You say as you look up at his beautiful eyes, twinkling by just the mere touch of your hand on his back, torso against yours.

‘Okay ___, I’ll wait.’

‘I don’t want him anymore. He just fucking disobeyed me.’

The middle-aged woman huffed loudly into the speaker. Taehyung flinched away by the harsh tone, sad and scared that he couldn’t fully comply to his owners wants. He didn’t meant to react like that to her, he just found a threesome with 2 complete strangers going too far. He isn’t a whore, he still had that much of a respect for his own body.

‘Yes, replace him immediately.’

Tears began to form in his eyes again. He fucked it up, he wasn’t supposed to fuck it up again. He never intended on disappointing her, not at all, but he thought it was reasonable to place his boundaries there. Fuck, why can’t you do anything right?

The 2 days were like hell. Everything just felt as if you were placed into a big dark place, gloomy and somewhat scary. You’ve been isolating from Taehyung as much as you were able. You had sticked to your own words, you really wanted to know if this would be the right choice, to be with him and you of course had to check if you were able to have another human being in your house.

Financial, it could work. You made enough money to afford another human in your house, that’s nonetheless why you stayed at that company after all. It was fucked up, the way they treaded woman and lower-standing people in the company. You’ve accepted the reality a long time ago and lived through it, what ended up very good for you. Eventually, they saw how your presence in that company could be good for them as well and despite you being a woman, they still needed you on certain aspects. That’s how you got several promotions and you began to earn more money.

Normally you would invest your extra earned money to save it up, but you could also invest that money into Taehyung’s presence.

Now, that being settled, you had to go to the next problem, your family and friends. How in hell could you explain to them that you were about to be with a hybrid for the rest of your life? You couldn’t possibly do that. They wouldn’t accept him, not when he doesn’t work at least.

It made you wonder though, what if he was specialized in something else than being a hybrid? The company Hy-tech doesn’t exist that long, maybe 5 years or so. That means, he has been doing something else before becoming a hybrid. Maybe he is able to have a real job, to earn some money. And thinking back to your new-found friend, Emma, he will be needing something that keeps his thoughts off of you during your work-hours. You know a hybrid can’t be away from their mate very long, not longer than a few hours, so that had to mean he needs to busy himself in the remaining time.

Emma: Hey! It’s Emma again. I was wondering if we could maybe meet up, talk face to face :)

You cock your head slightly, surprised that she is willing to really meet up with you, despite not knowing you. Maybe a talk with her could help indeed. A day has already past after all and you did not yet found an answer for Taehyung. Though your body screams constantly for Taehyung’s presents, warming up every time he is in the same room and your heart aching every time he isn’t. You long for him, so much, you feel so attached to him already, though you’ve only known him for 3 days. It looks unnatural, but it feels so right. Your head still tries to get you to look at the reality. How can you love something that isn’t even a real human? Yes, he does deserves human rights, but you aren’t the kind of person to really share your life with something like him, a hybrid.

You: Yes, that sounds like a great idea :)) I’ve been conflicted these few days so this might freshen up some things.

Two hours later, being 3 o’clock precisely, you were at the same little café you were with your best friend a few days ago. You’ve always liked the little café, since the service there is great and the atmosphere around there is so cozy. Emma luckily lives near your city, being one hour away with the car, so she didn’t mind coming to your town at all. She was actually very excited to meet you, since there aren’t many people being mated with an hybrid, having the same problems she is facing or went through.

‘___? That’s you right?’ You suddenly hear from behind and you turn around to be meet with a really pretty girl. She has long wavy hear, long lashes and such a pretty figure. You couldn’t really hide your amazement of her appearance as you began to stare, making her giggle in response. ‘Don’t fall in love with me, my kitten will kill me if some other person would drool all over me.’

You began to giggle in response, somewhat amazed by the confidence she wears. You like people who are very strong on their own, not scared to talk their mind. It’s admirable, really.

‘Yeah, it’s me, then you must be Emma.’ You say while standing up and taking her hand to shake, having a rather humorous turn in your little action. The both smiled at each other, feeling a new bond created. You both pulled away and sat across from each other.

‘Was it a long trip?’ You asked, being polite and genuinely interested. She shook her head. ‘It was quite enjoyable actually, I never really get the chance to really get out of that house.’ She chuckles. You cock your head to the side, asking her silently why she wouldn’t be able to get out.

‘Ahh, that. Well I told you already actually. Jimin never leaves me alone I swear to god.’ She huffs, chuckling after. You connected the dots vastly and realized that Jimin is probably her panther-hybrid, her mate. You nod to yourself, remembering the little talk you had with her over text. She had told her hybrid became incredibly clingy and you personally don’t mind clingy, but you still need to be able to focus on your work. Though, if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t mind having someone to rip you away from the torturous homework you need to finish every friday evening.

An ober walked up to your table, wearing an handsome smile as he asked you for your orders. You, like always, ordered for a strawberry milkshake, knowing it’s one of their best drinks they sell. Emma did the same, after you recommended the choice of drink of course.

‘But, what I wanted to ask-.’ Emma began. ‘why are you having difficulties lately? With your mate I mean?’ She asked, curious to why you actually wanted to meet up. You sigh slightly, looking down at you lap. Hearing the words ‘your mate’ felt so good to hear. It’s as if it’s supposed to be like this.

‘It’s not my mate yet.’

She frowns as she leans in. ‘Why not?’ Her tone was quite worried too, probably now understanding why you are frustrated-looking. She had noticed it the moment she sat across from you. She scanned the bags under your eyes and the pale(ish) skin. She found it odd, but concluded that it might be just the way you look. It seemed that she was wrong about that after all and that you have been having sleepless nights these 2 days.

‘I don’t know if this is what I want yet.’

She nods, understanding completely what you mean. She has had the same problem in the past, not knowing if she really would want Jimin in her life like that. Though she was very much in love and attracted, she still didn’t know if that was the right thing to do. It’s probably common to feel like that when you’re about to share your life with someone else, not only hybrid focused. But, having a hybrid to share your life with, meant that there were more changes than with a normal marriage. Your affection and communication with each other are all so different from a normal human couple. But, it’s not in a bad way, it’s actually so nice, feeling one with your partner. You understand each other ten times better once you are mated.

‘I have one tip for you in this matter, follow your heart, not your head.’

‘If I did that, I would be mated to him already. My body is literally screaming for him.’ You sigh, looking down at your milkshake, which has been served a few moments ago.

‘I said heart, not body. Look if his personality complies perfectly with yours. That’s the only thing that matters.’

Her words had sticked with you. She was right, you should listen to your heart, not anything else. If your personalities won’t match, it isn’t the right thing to be his mate.

There was also something else that had sticked with you during your way home and which got you blushing while thinking about it. The mating process.

‘The what process?’

‘The mating process, silly.’ She laughs, slightly blushing as she looks down at her lap. You frown, now being the one to lean in.

‘What is it precisely?’

‘The way you will be mated.’

‘And that is...?’

She sighs, looking around if anyone would hear before leaning closer to you. You don’t know where the dramatic reaction is for, but she surely knew how to get one scared within seconds. What if you had to undergo some weird rituals?

‘It’s with sex.’

You blink a few times, trying to understand what she just said before almost jumping out of your seat. You were surprised to say the least. You knew that there was some kind of thing you had to undergo, of course, but you naturally thought he simply had to bite you. It does explain why your body reacts the way it currently does in the presence of Taehyung. It wants to get mated and if that meant sex, it will make it known right away.

‘It’s not only the sex, he will have to bite you to connect your souls. It hurts so much, but it will be worth it after. You will feel so connected.’ She tells the story as if it’s some dream coming through. For you it’s not a dreams coming true, it’s most likely a unexpected and uncertain dream coming true.

You quietly shook your head, chuckling to yourself in disbelieve. If you didn’t yet have any uncertainty, it surely exists now.

The rest of the day went quite fast. You’ve had a great time with Emma and you made sure to see each other another time.

When you came home, you could hear some noises from the kitchen. You look at the clock, eyes widening when you noticed it was already 6 pm and Taehyung would be needing to eat.

You sprinted at the kitchen, scared that Taehyung is experimenting with stuff that might hurt him. But, when you walked inside, Taehyung is happily swaying his tail around while cooking something that smells... delicious. You are quite taken aback, surprised that Taehyung was able to cook so well, judged from the smell that lingered around the room. But then again, Taehyung had a life before being a slave of that company, maybe he had to cook often or was he even graduated from a culinary school.

‘I made us some dinner.’ He announced as he hadn’t turned around to look at you. You could feel the happy atmosphere around him, making your mood to lighten up immediately. You nod in response, though he probably couldn’t see you. You slowly walk up to him, scared that your body might fuck it up again by letting know your growing affection already, but you still wanted to see what he is cooking. When the food came into your view, you were even more surprised. He is preparing tomato soup, self made and probably put together by the few remaining vegetables which were left in your fridge. You normally don’t really cook for yourself, maybe some eggs or pancakes once in a while, but you never really have enough time to prepare something more difficult at night.

‘Where did you learn to cook?’ You finally ask, deciding on letting go of your pestering question which have been sticking to the back of your mind. You swiftly look at his face to analyze any frowns, scared that you might pulled another trigger, but you were happy to be met with a soft smile from his side.

‘Cooking is actually the only thing they decided to keep within my system.’ He said, spoon stirring through the hot liquid inside the saucepan. His words seems sad, but when you look closer, you notice something light within his tone. It’s as if he’s grateful to be able to remember how to cook. He is grateful for something you shouldn’t be grateful of. You can’t be happy when the only thing you can do is cooking. And of course, they would let that within his system, it could be handy to have a hybrid which was able to cook.

‘Don’t get sad about it ___, I’m okay.’ He said as soon as he feels your downy-atmosphere in the air. He could feel it in his heart too, when the anger slowly began to boil again.

He at first was quite confused to why you got angry so often. Every time he told you something about his past, it seemed as if he touched a weak part of your emotions. Over the years, he came to accept his fate and let himself drown in all the lies he got told and eventually didn’t see reality anymore, so it wasn’t weird when he didn’t understood certain emotions from your side. But, in some way, your emotions were effecting him. Like you were waking something up within him. He dared to take his own initiative and to look up into your eyes. If it was with anyone else, he would still be as submissive as ever with his owner, but you are different, obviously.

‘I actually enjoy cooking so much.’ He noted, sighing in content. You sighed along with him as you showed a little smile across your face. Though your hate towards hy-tech was still visibly growing, Taehyung’s words still didn’t fail to reach through your hatred and to slowly calm you down, returning your thoughts back to him.

‘Then you should cook more often, if you like it this much.’

You took a step back from the kitchen counters and began leaning over onto the table across the room. You began to admire his back-view for a little bit. His wide shoulders are so pleasingly beautiful and you could see the veins on his arms disappearing in the sleeves of his sweater, which were folded up to his elbows.

When your gaze began to trail southwards, you became amazed by the yellow and goldish tail with a brown fluffy bundle of hair at the end of it, it was slowly swinging from the one to the other side, showing he is feeling comfortable and at ease.

You sigh to yourself again, pleased with your view and sad at the same time, because you can’t hold him like the way you want to hold him right now.

‘You know that you just have to ask if you would want a hug right?’ He says, chuckling when he hears you gasping in response. You sometimes totally forget he could feel everything you feel, so also your urges and needs. You felt it sometimes from his side too, mostly when you were showering and you could practically smell his arousal. You hated those moments, since you almost wouldn’t be able to just let him fuck you right against those tiles.

‘N-No, that’s not needed.’

You could hear him chuckle again, followed by a glance back at you, eyes slightly dark and a smirk quite visible. Your body had an instant reaction on his behavior, heating up quickly in an affectional way. You’ve been trying to avoid these moments the past few hours, to keep your head straight and to focus on the real problems for a second. But, sometimes your body seemed to fail you and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing you thighs close against each other, wetness forming at your center, just like now.

‘Hmm, it suddenly smells a lot more delicious here.’ He mutters, very much happy with the reaction he got out of you. You gulp, pupils already blown wide and skin aching for his touch already.

‘So sensitive for me...’ he sighs in delight, knowing you could hear him.

Then your legs suddenly gave out on you, being too affected from him and body now literally screaming for his attention, mostly his teeth to make you his mate. He was quick to catch you from falling, now also shocked himself of the reaction you had on him.

‘Fuck, sorry.’ He feels quite guilty for making your body ache like that and when he touches your skin, he almost burns himself by how hot you are. When his gaze traveled down to your center, he notices a big wet spot on your trousers and he immediately smelled that it’s your arousal dripping onto your clothes. Though he felt himself getting turned on, his worries got the best of him and began lifting you off the ground and brought you to the living-room, laying you down on the sofa.

‘What can I do?’ He asks, brows furrowed and scared he might really have broken you this time, tail also furiously wiggling around as he feels very uncomfortable by your current state.

‘Fuck me, Taehyung.’ You breathe out, finally losing it. His breath hitches and his tail stopped moving, now his fluffy ears twitching when he felt himself getting quite nervous. You can’t stop yourself anymore, you need his body right now to stop the constant feeling within you. Your body screams, your heart screams and your head now also screams to let him take you.

‘No, ___, you’re not in your right mind. Please think about this a little longe-.’

You stopped him by grabbing his hand, guiding it immediately to your trousers, wanting him to ease your ache you are feeling. He bites his lips, not knowing what to do at that very moment. He knows you are losing it right now and that you aren’t exactly at the right set of mind. But, on the contrary of those thoughts, his erection only began to grow more and more, his own needs taking over his mind.

‘Please Tae...’ you sigh, both of yours and his hand now sliding into your pants and letting him cup your clothed heat, showing how wet you are for him. You could see his eyes flicker, black and red eye-colors taking turns. You knew he was very much conflicted on what to do and you knew, if you only got him a little more closer, you could have him to mate with yo-

Taehyung suddenly ripped his hand out of your pants, immediately standing up and turning around. He almost sprinted away from you, back to the kitchen and locking himself into that room, leaving you alone and aching.

Although all his senses told him to take you right then and there, he knew that you had to be in your right mind for this decision. A human blinded by lust will never make the right decisions, although it was your body making you crazy, he still knew that he shouldn’t take advantage of that. He wants you to choose fairly and to choose for the person he is and not because of your body.

But, this decision has to be taken quickly, because looking at his calendar, his heath will arrive in a day or 3. The pills they got him will certainly not work on a guy in heath with his soulmate in the same room. So, let’s just say, you need to get mated quickly or he needs to get out of that house before hell takes over and he quite literally won’t be able to hold himself back like that anymore.

Hope you enjoyed this one! Love y’all <3

[attendantdesign-blog]

New Post has been published on Attendantdesign

New Post has been published on https://attendantdesign.com/maggie-ofarrell-ive-revealed-the-secrets/

Maggie O’Farrell: 'I've revealed the secrets

N a mean yr, Maggie O’Farrell comes near death several instances. Seized with terror, she dials 999 and is rushed to hospital in a white-knuckle sprint that navigates the border of existence and death. Breathing becomes not possible, the pores and skin bubbles and blisters; as consciousness fades, cardiac arrest may be simply minutes away. The death O’Farrell needs to come this near, over and again, isn’t her personal however her daughter’s.

O’Farrell’s middle infant is eight years old. Ever since the age of two,

she has suffered excessive allergic reactions among 12 and 15 instances a 12 months, which can be brought on by means of – and this list is some distance from exhaustive – sitting beside someone who ate muesli for breakfast, or at a desk where sesame seeds have been lately fed on; sharing a paddling pool with someone carrying sun cream containing almond oil; touching the hand of a person who has eaten nuts or eggs or salad with pumpkin oil; ingesting a biscuit picked up with tongs used in advance to hold a brownie; being stung by means of a bee.

At simply six, O’Farrell’s eldest infant needed to be taught how to dial 999 and say, “This is an emergency case of anaphylaxis”if his sister went into shock. The nearby A&E workforce greets her by name; her representative has cautioned her mother and father in no way to take her beyond the range of a good medical institution. They in no way, ever leave the house with out her remedy.

“We live, then,” O’Farrell writes, “in a nation of excessive alert.”

The novelist had not intended to jot down a memoir. She used to the funny story along with her husband, the writer William Sutcliffe, that she turned into as probable to emerge as a mathematician as to write approximately her private life. “I never, ever notion I’d do it. It just felt to me it would place too much of a tax on buddies and own family” she tells me when we meet in a London membership. O’Farrell began writing I Am, I Am, I Am (the name is taken from Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar) as “a non-public mission”, or even after signing an agreement with her publishers, nonetheless thought she might lose her nerve and want to pull out of the deal.

She refused to accept an strengthen, because “I didn’t want the stress of having to pay it all back if I modified my mind. It felt greater liberating to me to jot down it without any expectation.” The publishers pointed out that they needed to pay her something to make the settlement felony, so she settled for a pound.

Were there moments whilst she was significantly taken into consideration canceling?

“Yes, continuously,” she laughs. “Several instances an afternoon. I wasn’t even without a doubt certain right up until a couple of months in the past that I could publish it.”

At eight, O’Farrell shrunk encephalitis and was hospitalized in isolation for months. Everyone expected her to die The e-book exists, in the long run, for one motive only: O’Farrell wanted to help her youngsters remember that her daughter’s proximity to mortality isn’t always their particular curse, however in reality notably not unusual. She realised she should come up with 17 of her very own near encounters with demise, and I Am, I Am, I Am is an account of a majority of these events in her 45 years, while, as her very own mother positioned it, “I don’t like to think what may have come about.” The memoir is a literary exercise in normalizing the near-dying revel in.

The 17 variety from a chilling near-miss come across in her teens with a murderer to an ambush through a machete-wielding thief on a faraway seashore in Chile. She nearly drowned twice, hemorrhaged catastrophically in the course of her first labor and nearly died of amoebic dysentery in China. Other chapters are much less dramatic – an HIV takes a look at following the discovery of her boyfriend’s infidelity; a near brush with a passing lorry while out on foot – but all are crafted with O’Farrell’s trademark economic system and manipulate. She is a breathtakingly properly author and brings all her beauty and poise as a novelist to the story of her own lifestyles.

The self-portrait found out in its pages, though, is as a substitute extreme, and nothing like the character I meet today. More than twenty years in the past, O’Farrell and I labored within the identical workplace, and even though we didn’t, in reality, realize each different, I wouldn’t have known from her memoir the pleased presence I bear in mind from the one’s days. “Contrary” and prone to tantrums as a baby, O’Farrell’s account of her adult self is frequently further upset and prickly. Yet in person, she is nothing like that at all. She is heat and smooth, brief to chuckle, complete of correct humor and generosity. The discrepancy is so striking, I recommend she’s been alternatively unfair on herself in the e book.

“Really? Hmmm. Maybe,” she concedes. “I assume I am pretty tough on myself, however, I assume you need to be. I imply all of us are, aren’t we?”

The mystery of how one’s own mind compares with others’ has always particularly deep for O’Farrell, because at 8 she shrunk encephalitis and became hospitalized in isolation for months. Everyone expected her to die; one night, she even overheard a nurse out of doors her door tell some other patient, “Hush. There’s a touch lady death in there.”

The damage to her cerebellum has left her with lifelong bodily impairments, but the neurological legacy also can consist of developments including irritability, oversensitivity and, she writes, “a profound feeling of unease and dissatisfaction”. Does she feel that her personality has been determined through the disease?

“That’s what’s unusual. I can’t tell. Maybe it’s a piece like having a pin in a broken bone. Your frame grows around it and it turns into part of you, doesn’t it? Your character absorbs it. I don’t realize wherein the encephalitis ends and I begin, and that is which.”

Maggie O’Farrell along with her Maggie  daughter when she  revealed becomes a child secrets 

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Maggie O’Farrell with her daughter whilst she was a baby. Photograph: Graham Turner for the Guardian She can in no way make sure, either, if it’s what made her a novelist. From the earliest age, she wrote compulsively, “however I suppose my contamination probable, sure, made me into an observer, an interpreter of what was occurring around, the unstated. It additionally made me right into a reader.” Confined to a mattress, she read conventional novels time and again. “And the eighth or ninth time, you begin to suppose: why did the author trade irritating right here? Or why does this ebook begin with a verbal exchange, as opposed to a description? You begin wondering in the one’s terms.”

Born in Ulster to Irish parents, O’Farrell grew up along with her two sisters in Wales and Scotland, where her father lectured in economics. Always educational, she studied English at Cambridge, and had planned to do a doctorate – but her consequences weren’t suitable sufficient. She started out her career as an arts journalist. She posted her first novel, After You’d Gone, in 2000, and following her 2d, My Lover’s Lover, years later has become a full-time novelist. She has when you consider that published five extra, one in all which, The Hand That First Held Mine, won the Costa e-book award, and all of which have been significantly acclaimed hits. Spare and unsentimental, but hauntingly brilliant and suspenseful, her work deals with love, loss and all of the undying complexities of the human circumstance.

“I certainly love writing,” she says. “It’s the most effective element I ever virtually wanted to do. I by no means understand when I pay attention writers saying it’s suffering. I continually suppose, well, don’t do it then! Do something else. Go work within the coalmine. Go be a barista – see the way you revel in that,” she chuckles dryly.