#we can string letters and words together and make something beautiful!!!

[l3monivy]

when poetry poetrys and you have to take a moment to stare into space and just Think about it>>>

[joeshiestyslover]

hotel room

pairing: cocky!joe burrow x reader

summary: you and joe have been hooking up for the past year, and joe wants to stop, but he just can’t and continues to string you along, so you make the choice for him

warnings: language, angst, slight smut

masterlist

part 2

a/n: i’m back???? also this is mad shitty, but it’s been a year, so i’m a bit rusty

the sound of your phone ringing is enough to wake you from your sleep. you roll over to face the nightstand and grab your phone. you check the time and it’s 3:13 am. who the fuck is calling me this late? you think. your question is answered when you check the caller id, joey<3 is in big white letters across the top of your phone screen.

“hello?” you answer. “you busy right now?” joe immediately asks. really? no greeting? “no joe of course i’m not busy at 3:15 in the morning.” “good. come over.” he demands. “didn’t you say the last time we did this that we couldn’t do it again?” you inquire. “i know what i said y/n. just one more time. please. i need you.” joe basically begs you. you sigh. “fine give me fifteen minutes.”

you slowly begin to get up from your bed and head to your bathroom. you brush out your hair and pull a claw clip from your drawer to put into your hair. you walk out of the bathroom and into your closet; you grab a pair of spandex booty shorts and an oversized tshirt. you find some socks and your air forces and slide them on your feet. you take one last look at yourself in the mirror before grabbing your phone, wallet, and keys and heading out the front door.

why do i do this to myself? you ask yourself every single time you leave to meet up with joe. you know how this ends; you hook up, he tells you it’s the last time, then you leave. it’s an endless cycle. he has you under his thumb, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape him.

the drive to joe’s place gives you the time to think about how you wound up here, driving in your car to go hook up with joe burrow.

you met joe at your friend’s bachelorette party which was at her favorite club. that night, joe was there with his teammates celebrating the bengals’ win against the chiefs. the moment he walked into the club his eyes were drawn to you immediately, and yours to his. about thirty minutes went by before he actually approached you.

you could feel the tension lingering in the air just begging to be released. joe asked you to go home with him and how could you say no? looking back on it now, you should have.

your thoughts are cut off by your phone ringing. you look at the caller id, and surprise surprise, it’s joe. “yes?” you answer. “where are you? you told me to give you fifteen minutes and it’s been twenty.” joe asks you. “joe i’m literally pulling up right now, calm down.” before he’s able to respond, you hang up and pull into his driveway.

you get out of your car and walk towards his front door, but before you can knock, the door swings open revealing a shirtless joe standing in front of you. you take a few seconds to admire him before he grabs your hand and pulls you into the house.

before you can even get a word in, he’s kissing you roughly, your tongues and teeth clashing together. “jump.” joe tells you breathlessly. you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, with his hand coming to rest on your ass. he begins to walk to his bedroom that you’ve become way too familiar with. joe kicks open the door and sits down on the bed, so you’re sitting in his lap. you mindlessly start to grind against his clothed cock.

joe breaks the kiss to look into your eyes. “you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he says to you, and you almost believe him. “joe please don’t say that.” “why not?” he asks you, confused. “because when you say things like that you make it so much harder to leave.” joe gives you a look you can’t decipher. “we both know you’re not gonna leave.” he smirks at you. “this is the last time joe i mean it. listen, there’s something i have to tell you.” you can’t look him in the eyes at this point. “what is it baby?” joe brings his hand up to hold your cheek. “i got a job offer in new york. it’s my dream job and it pays well, so i have to take it.”

joe stays silent for a few second before he moves you off of him so he can stand up. “so you’re leaving? just like that? you’re gonna throw everything we have away?” he says while beginning to pace back and forth. “everything we have? joe we’re fuck buddies! that’s all we are and that’s all we’ll ever be!” you raise your voice at him. “if you think we’re just fuck buddies then you’re fucking blind y/n!” “how am i blind joseph? please enlighten me!” you spit at him. “have you not noticed that every time you come over, i try to convince you to stay? i’ve offered to make you dinner, i’ve asked you to be with me on valentine’s day, i’ve tried everything to make you see that i’m in love with you!” the moment those words leave his mouth, you freeze. “you’re what?” “i’m in love with you y/n. i have been since the night i met you. every time you leave, i get this feeling that i hate. i don’t wanna be away from you.” he tries to step closer to you, but you don’t let him. “joe, no. don’t do this. don’t say you love me; we both know you don’t mean it. you’re only saying this because you don’t wanna lose the only girl that will be at your beck and call whenever you please.” you can feel the tears prickling at your eyes.

“what? no y/n. i love you. i really do. please stay in ohio, and let me prove it to you.” he begins to beg. “joe i can’t. we both know that we wouldn’t work. i’m sorry i can’t do this.” you stand up from his bed and walk out of his bedroom. you can hear joe’s footsteps following behind you. “y/n please don’t leave.” you don’t respond and continue walking towards his front door, but before you can open it, joe’s hand is on the doorknob. “don’t do this. don’t take that job. stay here with me, just give this a chance. please.” you find the courage to look up, and you see a tear going down his cheek. “joey listen, if you had told me this a long time ago, i would have given us a chance, and i wouldn’t take the job. it’s too late for us. i’m sorry joe, but i have to go.” he says nothing and lets go of the doorknob. you open the door and begin walking towards your car. the moment you get in and lock your doors, you break down. of course you’re in love with joe, but this is your dream job. you can’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of that, not even joe. you compose yourself and put your car into drive, not looking back. deep down you know you’ve made the right choice, but you can’t help but think about what could’ve been.

[ssaemilyhotchner]

Y for your alphabet prompts plz! (btw found your blog from AO3, loving the chapters so far)

aw thanks for reading, anon! <3

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: Y | prompt: yuletide | wc: 1.3k | a/n: Jack/Emily fluff and Christmas content before Halloween because it’s still 85°F where I am and I’m trying to manifest cooler temps/holiday spirit. I wrote the first iteration of this in 2011(!). Needless to say, substantial tweaks went into this version because coming back to your writing 13 years later is humbling, let me tell ya.

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

--

Emily had barely taken three steps into the bullpen when she heard Hotch call out to her.

“Prentiss, can I see you in my office, please?”

JJ and Morgan shared a conspiratorial glance. “Oooh, someone’s in trouble,” the latter teased. Emily responded with an eye roll and a good-natured shut up, Derek, then dumped her bag in her desk chair to make her way to the man who was summoning her, though not before sparing a longing glance at the fresh pot of coffee in the corner of the bullpen. She slowed her ascent of the stairs, however, when she heard Rossi chuckling at her from his office.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed, a vague yet omniscient quirk to his lips.

Emily looked at him suspiciously before pushing Hotch’s door open. “Hey, you wanted to see me?”

She hardly had time to register the sight in front of her before a seven-year-old blur precariously set down a full glass of orange juice and pounced into her arms. “Miss Emmy!”

“Oof,” she grunted as the boy collided into her. Grinning widely, she picked him up and spun him around. “Hey there, buddy! How are you?”

Jack wrapped his arms securely around her neck. “Good! I got you something,” he said with a smile that was so like his father’s.

“You did?” She gasped theatrically. “But we already celebrated my birthday!”

Jack nodded excitedly before motioning for her to set him on his feet. Fishing through his pocket, he pulled out a necklace with a plastic snowflake charm and other tiny beads held together by thick blue string and handed it to her. It was then that Emily noticed the crudely cut paper chain of snowflakes lining Hotch’s bookshelf. “Wow, you two, it looks like Christmas in here.”

“A certain someone couldn’t wait two months for snow and presents,” Hotch quipped with a small laugh.

The boy in question beamed. “So, I made my own snow!”

“Well, I think your snowflakes are beautiful. And as for the necklace,” Emily kneeled to his height and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I love it. Thank you very much, Jack.”

He bit his lip and blushed a deep pink, watching with wide eyes as she put his gift on. “You’re welcome.”

Finally moving out from behind his desk, Hotch stood and closed the distance between them in measured strides. Running a hand through his son’s sandy hair, he said, biting back his smile, “Jack has a question for you.”

If possible, Jack’s expression brightened even further. “When are you going to come over, Emmy? I miss you.”

Emily’s heart did a little flip at his sweet words, then another when she and Hotch shared a brief but suggestive glance. “That’s up to your daddy, honey.”

“Well, Daddy?” Jack asked expectantly, his eyes wide.

Emily has both Hotchner boys wrapped around her little finger, Hotch thought fondly. He cocked his head to the side appraisingly. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

--

Emily eyed Jack as he yawned for the third time. “Looks like it someone’s PJ time.”

Jack frowned. “But I don’t wanna go to sleep. I want to stay up so we can play.”

“Honey, you’re practically falling asleep standing up. How about this? Go wash your hands—I can still see pizza sauce on them,” she said, and Jack giggled, “then brush your teeth and I’ll be there in a minute to tuck you in. Okay?”

“Will you at least read me a bedtime story?”

“Jack,” Hotch warned gently from his spot at the kitchen sink, where he was washing their dinner plates, “why don’t we let Miss Emily relax? She’s had a long day, buddy.”

“It’s okay,” Emily assured. “I’d love to read you a story, Jack.” Jack rubbed his eyes sleepily but his grin at Emily’s words was wide as ever.

“And what do we tell Miss Emily for picking up dinner?” Hotch prompted.

“Thank you,” Jack said dutifully, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly.

“You are very welcome. Now hurry on to your room and pick a story before I change my mind,” she teased.

He was off with a yelped okay, okay! before Emily could so much as blink.

Teeth minty fresh and hands no longer sticky, Jack eagerly curled up beneath the covers and clicked on his bedside lamp, casting their shadows onto the wall. “So,” Emily said with a soft smile, “what book are we reading tonight, Mr. Jack?”

“I dunno. Anything to do with snow.”

“Boy, you really want Christmas to be here, don’t you?” Emily asked, scanning his small bookshelf for promising titles.

“Uh huh,” Jack nodded. “Because of our special visitor!”

“Santa?”

“No,” the boy giggled. “You, Miss Emmy. Are you gonna come over on Christmas like last year? Daddy says you make Christmas real special for us.”

“Well, your daddy is very sweet,” Emily replied, her cheeks warming. “We’ve got a while ‘til Christmas, but once we’re closer to the big day, if it’s okay with your daddy, I’ll be here.”

Satisfied, Jack burrowed further beneath his mountain of blankets. Finally, Emily found the picture book she had been looking for and pulled it off of the shelf with a flourish, then moved to sit at the foot of the boy’s bed. “Now close your eyes and try to get some sleep.” Clearing her throat, she began. “T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house—”

“—not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse! This is my favorite.”

“I know it is, silly,” Emily laughed, pinching his nose softly and causing more giggles to spill forth. “Now sleep.”

Jack said nothing, just obeyed, her voice an excellent lullaby.

“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter’s nap…”

--

“Hey, you.”

Hotch looked up at the sound of her voice, then smiled and handed her a generously filled glass of her favorite red wine as she plopped down on the couch beside him. “Hey.”

Accepting the drink gladly, she curled up against his side and let out a long sigh. “You were right earlier; today really has been a long day.”

He snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. “Especially for you. I still don’t understand why you insisted on finishing all of your reports before we left.”

She snorted. “Hypocrite. Besides,” she took a long sip of the heady wine, “I wanted to spend my weekend doing someone—I mean, something—else.”

Hotch chuckled at her very intentional slip of the tongue. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Slowly, Emily placed her glass onto the nearby coffee table then set her chin atop his shoulder, her breath ghosting against his cheek. "Mmm, nothing," she answered coyly.

“That sure doesn’t feel like nothing.” He grunted as her lips traveled from his cheekbone to the underside of his jaw, then the hollow of his throat. “Emily…”

Covering his mouth with hers, she silenced him with a coaxing, teasing kiss. “Have I answered your question yet?”

“Just about,” Hotch replied breathlessly, guiding her backwards until she was spread across the couch’s entire length and he was hovering over her.

“I have something for you,” she whispered against his lips.

He slid a large hand to her back and pulled her body flush against his, reveling in the experience of her; even though they'd been together for just over a year, sharing space and time with her like this was still a luxury, one he doubted he would ever get used to. “I’ll say.”

Emily trailed her fingers down his chest, eventually coming to rest at his hip. “Undress me,” she clarified, her doe eyes already nearly-black with want.

Hotch obeyed without hesitation and felt his breath catch in the back of his throat as he reached the last button and pushed apart her blouse. “Jesus,” he breathed approvingly.

She laughed, low and sultry. “I take it you’re a fan.”

“You know I can’t get enough of you in red.” He dropped his lips to the swell of a breast, peppering kisses along the edge of her scarlet-hued bra. She rewarded him with a surprised exhalation as his teeth grazed her sensitive skin, and the sound traveled straight between his legs.

“It’s like I’m your very own Christmas present, just waiting to be unwrapped,” she purred.

“Thank goodness the holiday came early, then.”

[ye4gerism]

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑰𝑺 𝑭𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑾𝑨𝑹 - 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 final part!

word count 1k

content warning you guys might get mad at me🧍🏾‍♀️

author’s note finally over! as i mentioned, this was my first smut based story. i had been playing around with this particular plot since my bachelorette series ended and now i finally brought it to life! thanks to everyone who interacted with this story and gave me something to look forward to every time i uploaded! i will be putting this story on ao3 as well :) my requests are open, so do feel free to request some more aot content! enjoy :)

synopsis after the rumbling, you found yourself on your feet in your home town. you have a completely new life - you’re watching your country be built again and now you have a partner! what happens when a man from your past reaches out to you via letter?

Winter 859

Jean,

I am so sorry but you are no longer a peace ambassador for the Alliance.

After much consideration, your actions are a threat to the work we've been doing and we can't risk losing our rising credibility over an affair. Your relationship with Mrs. Abe is not worth fighting Mr. Abe's influence.

Again, I'm sorry. As your friend, do know you can still talk to me if you need any support. I will send a future, more official letter very soon.

All the best,

Armin Arlert

Dear Jean,

Armin has recently told me about your termination from the Alliance. I'm really sorry - I know you loved that job and that it made things easier for you after what happened with Eren. I understand that you're currently stuck in Paradis and looking for a new job. I know you have a big heart, so I spoke with Historia and pulled some strings. She is offering you a position at the nursery. A secretarial job.

I hope you say yes and work with us until everything dies down. I know the news isn't public yet but it's going to be and your job search will get even harder.

I'm sorry about what happened with Y/N. She seemed like a really nice girl - no wonder you fell for her.

Please feel free to visit often. It's quiet on my end.

Thinking of you,

Mikasa

860

Jean decided to make a grown-up decision and court Mikasa. After receiving her letter, he quickly took up the job at the nursery. Things between them started casual - she was his friend first after all. She always told him good morning and they'd take their breaks together. Over time, his once dormant crush on her reawakened and she honestly began to like him back too.

By the spring, they said, "I do". It was an intimate wedding - all of their friends were invited and even Levi had made an effort to witness their nuptials. June was so much happier than she was in months - her son's reckless affair was no longer hanging over her head and now he was with a respectable, beautiful girl.

As the idea of you faded away, things slowly went back to normal. Jean never got his job with the Alliance back (which was fine, he loved his job at the nursery. His wife worked there and the kids were great) and his relationship with his friends was so much better. They were even finding success in negotiations with Marley and Mainland Marley. He lived with Mikasa in her cabin and was regularly visited by Connie or his mom. Everything felt settled after so many years of secrets.

Summer 861

Jean,

Hi. It's been a while. I assumed you didn't write me because of the drama of everything that occurred two years ago. I'm sorry it cost you your job.

How have you been? Sebas and I separated. He initiated the divorce. I lived in Anahg for a while and he replaced me with a much younger girl. I think he had been seeing her during our own marriage. Of course, everyone pitied him and praised him for trading me out with someone "better". I pray she has a better experience and doesn't treat her the way he treated me.

As much as I love my home, I couldn't stay in Anahg any longer because of the stares and people always constantly talking about Sebas. He's not even from here, so I don't understand the sudden hype. I think that article, which wrongly lists his ethnicity, is the reason why.

I ended up moving to Shiganshina. I managed to get myself a job as a seamstress at a very popular boutique. The owner was kind enough to help me get my own place as I continued to build my own life. I've been here a year now. I haven't been recognized, thank goodness.

I went to Trost to see if I could see you but I saw some individuals that I didn't know approach your apartment. Did you move out?

Anyway, I hope you're well. I really really do. And again, I'm sorry. Please, if you get this, let's have lunch together. I would really like to see you.

Y/N L/N

Y/N,

Wow. So she lives. THE Y/N L/N. I didn't think I'd hear from you again. The way Sebas was so angry, I thought he dragged you off to some mysterious darkness. All jokes aside, I was seriously worried about your safety. No one would tell me anything.

I have a pretty good job. Nothing heavy. I work with Historia's nursery. I just do a lot of paperwork about the kids and spend a little time with them since my main job is really low maintenance.

I'm glad you're out of that marriage. I don't know if you're happy but I am. He wasn't good for you. And I applaud you for your honesty and humanness; I'd wish Hell on her if I were you.

And you're here in Shiganshina, wow! I know you talked about liking the busyness of it. I hope you feel at home since Shiganshina is up to speed. You're lucky; I do miss the city sometimes. I'm glad you were able to do better for yourself here. Maybe you'll own your own shop there!

Yes, I no longer live in Trost. My mother does though. I got married last spring. The woman I'm married to actually helped me get my job. My favorite part is being able to watch her and her students bond. We’re expecting. I'm really excited to meet our first child. I'm hoping for a little girl. She wants a boy but everyone knows our little one will be a girl. Maybe the next one will be a boy, so we can have the best of both worlds.

Y/N, my time with you was something. It wasn't good or bad...it was just something. You gave me some of the most exciting times of my young adulthood. I will always remember you for that. But I think it’s best to leave our story where we ended it.

Mikasa was already past marriage and childbearing age and so was I. I also got fired from my job, remember? I’m halfway to thirty. I needed to start a family. I need a way to support myself, my wife and our child.

Y/N, I loved you once but I have moved on. I don’t think we should be on speaking terms, let alone writing terms. Our chapter has ended. Please make the rest of your time here the best. Thank you for everything.

Jean Kirstein

that is the end of all is fair in love and war! i hope you enjoyed it and i thank you for taking the time to read! pls feel free to repost and stick around for whatever’s next <3

[dc-and-arfrona]

Don't cry. I had to leave this life.

Based off this prompt

"If I die tonight, wear something nice and bright. Don't cry. I had to leave this life. There was nothing you could do to help that night. I know, I tried." The haunting words echoed in the reader's mind, each syllable etching itself into their heart. They stared at the letter left behind by Dick Grayson, their love, their hero. A sense of foreboding washed over them, as if the weight of tragedy loomed just beyond the horizon.

With a trembling hand, the reader clutched the letter tightly, struggling to contain the swell of emotions threatening to spill over. The thought of a life without Dick, without his infectious laughter and unwavering support, felt like a gaping void.

But amidst the fear and uncertainty, the reader refused to succumb to despair. They chose to cherish the time they had, to hold onto the moments of love and joy that intertwined their lives. It was in those vibrant fragments that they found solace, a bittersweet reminder of the beauty that life held.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as the reader and Dick clung to each other, their love a beacon in the face of darkness. They reveled in the simple joys—a shared sunrise, stolen kisses under the moonlight, and laughter that echoed through the hallways of their sanctuary.

The reader had become their own hero, fiercely determined to make every moment count. They crafted memories like precious gems, stringing them together as a testament to their resilience. Each day was a defiance against the shadow of the unknown, a proclamation that their love would not be diminished.

In the midst of their shared adventures, they fought side by side, relying on their unwavering trust and unbreakable bond. They wove stories of triumph and courage, painting the world with the hues of hope and resilience.

But always, beneath the surface, the reader carried the weight of Dick's ominous words. They could never escape the thought that tragedy might befall them, that the fragile threads of their existence could be severed. And yet, they refused to allow fear to rule their hearts.

One moonlit evening, as they stood on a rooftop overlooking the city, the reader's voice broke the silence. "Dick, I can't ignore the words you left behind. The fear of losing you hangs heavy on my heart. But I refuse to let it consume us. We can't control the circumstances, but we can choose how we face them."

Dick turned to face the reader, his eyes filled with love and a hint of sorrow. "I never wanted to burden you with those words. They were my own demons, my own fears. But you're right. We can't let fear dictate our lives. We have each other, and that's worth fighting for."

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a mingling of love and determination. In that embrace, they made a silent promise to face whatever may come with unwavering strength and indomitable spirit.

Days turned into years, and years into a lifetime of shared moments. Together, they navigated the uncertainties of life, embracing the ever-present shadow of mortality. And in their love, they found the courage to embrace the fleeting beauty of existence.

For, in the end, it wasn't the fear of what might be that defined them. It was the vibrant tapestry of their love, woven with threads of resilience and hope. They refused to be shackled by the darkness, choosing instead to ignite the world with the light they carried within.

And if the night of tragedy ever arrived, they would face it together, their love a beacon of defiance against the forces that sought to tear them apart.

Masterlist

[aoibhinnslater04]

SOC x ACOTAR

Chapter 7: Who needs to be in control?

NGL, this was a hard chapter to write. But I'm dropping a few hints now about the *real* villains, so any guesses?!

(I'll give another hint; there are two villains, and we don't really get to see them together, even though they are in the same series)

(Also some bad guys from the other series making a little gang)

Also planning a little interlude maybe in a couple of chapters to get the villains' side, if that sounds interesting?

Anyways: enjoy!

Word count:1665

TW: just rlly a bit of Kaz adoring Inej, fights, dark!Rhys and mind control

Wylan couldn’t focus. Inej was still not back, and he’d finally gotten Jesper asleep. He knew both of them were struggling. Hell, he couldn’t even be surprised. He had noticed the way Inej had flinched from him earlier when they were talking on the roof. He heard Inej and Jesper wake from nightmares with a shout from Jespers room, where they had both taken to sleeping on the floor, as though the soft beds would suffocate them. He also noticed that the two of them had almost distanced themselves from anyone else, as if they were scared it was an illusion and they would wake up to still be stuck, with Rhysand a puppet master, holding their strings and making them dance. It almost made him scarier that he didn’t have a last name, or at least none they knew of. And Wylan, who with the help of Nina, now knew plenty, about the entire Inner Circle. Of the Night Court. From Prythian.

It had infuriated them all for a while, that no information could be found at all their usual sources. But Wylan had realised as they were taping up the Scarred One, Azriel (spymaster shadowsinger to at least two High Lords of the Night Court- no wonder he could sneak up on Kaz and Inej) that there were only so many kinds of mythic humanoids that had bat wings. So research was done, and now he was just getting ready to tell Kaz. Nina was joining them, to point out specific areas in the books and articles they had found, each more vague than the last, but it was something. 

They even had newer articles, posted by some very mistrusting human Queens, who had explained how Rhysand and Feyre Archeron (once human, now High Lady, deceased parents-although reports about her mother’s death were very vague- and Fae sisters) had tried to manipulate them into handing over a Book that could bring down the wall between Prythian and the human lands(across the ocean- far beyond where Zoya ruled). The Queens had also posted a letter sent to them by Rhysand pleading with them for help. Wylan wasn’t sure how much of this was true though, as apparently these Queens then joined forces with another Fae, the King of Hybern, as they wanted to be young and beautiful forever. How come authority figures could never fully be trusted? He knew his own father had done some work with these Queens too, so everything they said was taken with a pinch of salt.

The Inner Circle of Rhysand’s court thought themselves better because they had information on the Crows. Well, two can play at this game.

~~~~~

Kaz couldn’t figure out where Inej had gone. It had been hours and she still wasn’t back. He kept thinking he heard a noise at the window when Wylan and Nina were presenting, but of course Inej would never make a noise on entry. She may have only been able to sneak up on him once, but it never stopped her from trying. He may only see her when she wanted him to, but he always knew when she was there. Always. Let her keep herself in shadows, if it was what she wished for. Inej wore it best, like a custom made outfit. But he just wished she would let him know she had made it home safely.

He had known, when he sent Wylan to her, that maybe this was pushing her too quickly, maybe it was too soon, especially after what they had done to the shadowsinger, of course it made sense for Rhysand to push back quickly. But this new couple- two women- they also seemed like they would be an issue. They had moved in barely after the Night Court had, and by all accounts they were unpleasant, but very mysterious. No one knew who they were or why they had come, so he sent the person he trusted most to figure some of that out. To him, it didn’t really matter why Inej hadn’t come back to him yet, only that she HAD come back. They were just two more people that he wanted his Wraith to avoid, two more people on a long list of people he was prepared to call an enemy. He was keeping the rest of the Dregs out of this current business, he only wanted those he was closest to involved. If anyone else got involved, he would never realise if they were being controlled.With his Crows… he stood a chance.

He felt a sudden shift behind him and whirled around, using his cane for support. “Inej!” he exclaimed, trying to stop himself from stepping forward, from scanning her head to toe for injury. She had two knives drawn  where she stood, as though contemplating stabbing him through. Oh she was definitely mad. He found himself almost ok with that thought, because at least she got back alive. Just as he was thinking that, she sheathed them and turned away, as though not able to face him, before speaking.

“There was more security than I was prepared for tonight. I’m planning on going back tomorrow night, I got a good sense of the rotations while I was observing. Does that work with whenever our next move against Rhysand will be?”

“Of course,” he responded, his voice rough, as though something was stuck in his throat.”I just want to get some information on them first, so we can decide what kind of people these are. No reason to get stuck in two wars at once. What, are you looking for an excuse to go back after Rhysand? I think we hit him pretty hard with the last one, let’s see how he reacts first. No reason to keep going at him without first knowing his capabilities.”

She turned to face him, her face filled with anger. “And what if he just keeps turning up with more weapons?! We should attack while he’s down, get him off this chessboard for good!”

That was… an odd way to phrase it. He had tried to teach her chess before, but she never really got into it. “It’s so much to remember!” she had said then, laughing as the sun kissed her face, her head tilted back. “And you cheat, Kaz!” Kaz had denied it, of course, keeping his hat over his face to hide his small smile. Just because she knew him better than anyone else didn’t mean she had to know all his secrets. What others called cheating, he called winning. Especially when he was taking their kruge as a trophy.

He shook his head slightly as if to brush away the memory. “Inej,” he said slowly. “They are stronger, and have better abilities than we do. Our strength,” and here, he moved slightly closer, as her head tilted to meet his gaze,”is in waiting. Lions don’t catch prey by moving aimlessly. They watch, and they prepare, and only when the prey is at it’s most vulnerable do they lunge. That’s why they are the kings. And we, Inej, are kings in our own right. This Barrel? It’s ours. And we do what we have to to exile those that scorn us.”

He thought he spotted another flash of rage, before she turned swiftly. “Rhysand basically IS a king, Kaz. He’s a High Lord, the MOST powerful High Lord. We don’t stand a chance unless we act soon.”

And as she walked out, all Kaz could think about was where on earth Inej heard that about Rhysand. Because Wylan and Nina went to bed hours ago, and he was the only other person who knew this yet. A feeling of dread started to settle in his stomach as he shut the door behind her and turned the key.

~~~~~

Rhys sighed as Inej finally closed her eyes and he could relax his grip on her a little. Clearly he had overestimated how much sway she held over Brekker, but if he pushed any further, he might have realised that Rhys was controlling her. He needed to think of the long game. They both knew Inej after all (even though Rhys arguably knew her better after spending so much time in her head) and if Brekker realised, well, they lost another advantage. Bad enough losing the hostages the first time, but this time he had linked himself so firmly to Inej she mightn’t be able to get rid of him until he let her go. He wouldn’t make the same mistake of underestimating Brekker again.

It was quite infuriating to know that Brekker had put Inej back working though. He would have to waste time letting her do her Wraith-work before going back to the Crow Club, or he would suspect something. But he had already assigned Azriel to go with her. They were two sides of the same coin, and hopefully their work would compliment each others. He had to admit, he was curious about this new couple too. They seemed quite elusive, none of his Circle had even caught sight of them yet. Mor couldn’t find any information online about them either, which was also unusual. But he had faith in Azriel, and even a bit in Inej too. He might feel generous enough to give Brekker some correct facts too… if Rhys felt it would benefit himself too, of course. The couple certainly seemed aware of the Fae, though, if the ash trees were any indication. They might be a problem. But…one issue at a time. 

He settled down beside Feyre, who was tossing and turning, still struggling to sleep without Nyx being home. He wrapped his wing around her and sent a wave of soothing darkness over her to calm her mind. He needed everyone to be at their top form if they were going to bring down hellfire over Brekker to get their son back, of course…

[thecranewivesrpf]

a platonic love letter/poem for that thing that you reblogged! Not my best work but oh well <333 (you can probably guess who it is but anon anyway bc why not)

I sit at my desk and I write, I write, I write. The words flow like a rushing stream, my soul pouring onto the page like spilled ink. Somewhere else, you write too. Do you think of me when you do? I know I think of you.

In another time we would be writing letters to eachother. Blood and tears and words splattered across paper. Fold up your heart and mail it across the world in the hopes someone will hold it.

There is something so romantic about the written word, why did we ever let it die? It chirps and flaps like a baby bird, hoping someone will lift it out of the dark so it can fly again. The parchment is folded up in the desk drawer now. Paper cuts exchanged for headaches as we stare into the harsh light of a screen.

In another time we are baking cookies. You flick the flour at me and I laugh. Messy counters and hands covered in dough. We burn the cookies and eat them anyway. Instead my kitchen is quiet, the murmur of my headphones the only sound. I wonder if you measure out the chocolate chips or just pour them it.

Switch to a new tab and the clock ticks over to another minute. It's getting late, but just one more minute, one more message. I like to pretend I know what I'm doing.

I asked an old woman what love is and she said that it's me, that's it's everyone. I think I know what she means. I hit post and wonder what you will think, is that love? Something happens and I want to share it with someone, is that love?

Love is in writing a story and thinking of someone the whole time, making references that no one else will get, giving a hug through a screen and hoping you will get to do it for real one day. Love is saying 'I have a friend and they live far away'.

There is a person inside my phone and I like to talk to them. I am a person inside someone else's phone who they talk to. There is a string that reaches across thousands of miles and ties our fingers together. The world is a criss-cross of connections and people lost and found, yet somehow in this beautiful, tangled mess we found eachother. And is that not love in itself? In another time we would be writing letters but instead I stare out the car window and hit post on my phone. At the end of the day my words my mean nothing but for now they mean everything.

For now they mean that I have a friend who lives far away and I love them.

goose ive reread this 7 times and cried harder every single time. you didn't have to do this and write a whole thing and here i am, im not crying you are

you have such an incredible, incredible way with words in the way they flow and metaphors and

this means so much to me it feels like im not doing it justice here, im both crying about it's contents and just how much love is poured into this. thank you. im glad I met you too, maybe somewhere in an alternate dimension we're baking cookies together and remembering that baking sugar exists, i hope we can meet someday.

you help me get through a lot of stuff too, i might not have anyone in class or anywhere i go who really likes me, but i can always come home and say hi to the silly friends in my phone. even if im too tired to talk ill still be there right by you in a way, and i think that's something

[tayzakharperez]

Title: Missing You Date: Around mid September around the 20th Where: London & Los Angeles With: Taylor Zakhar Perez & Nicholas Galitzine || @princenickgalitzine Song Inspiration: I Like It by Enquire Iglesias ft. Pitbull [ listen here ] Summary: Being in a new relationship has the two craving and missing each other and the best ways to connect is text, phone calls and video calls. Sometimes those calls get a bit dirty, sometimes they're just loving. This one included both as well as plans for an extended stay together.. Warnings: NSFW content, smut accrues

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: the time apart was becoming hard, the thoughts of how they could be both so romantic and so sexual together in a week was dreadful, in the way it left nicholas craving taylor's touch. his kisses, his sweet voice, his moans, his dick. nothing else mattered, he couldn't focus and he could just feel himself starting to get hard at the thoughts alone of that sweet american voice of his, speaking sweet nothing into his ear, moaning through his own pleasures while thrusting into him. the way his body would response, shiver, arch and just beg for more -- heating up, moving and the sounds taylor caused nicholas to make. oh god the feeling of him inside. "fuck" he moaned out in a shaky breath to himself in his own home, unable to focus on writing another stupid letter. he needed him, and he needed him now. so he texted quickly instead. something between poetic and needy. something just sure it'd get taylor in a similar state to his secret boyfriend.

text message sent to sweet boy taylor : baby, can i tell you i miss you in more ways that one? the feeling of your lips pressed against mine, soft and sweet, the taste of whatever lingers from what you ate. the touches of your strong arms touching my body, holding me, cuddling me and making me feel things i haven't in ages. but more so? i miss the feel of your body on mine, bare, heated and sweaty. the sounds of music our moans make, eyes closed and twisted in pleasure as you'd push your length into me with a passion i didn't understand til after the first time we made love.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Since coming home all that crossed Taylor's mind -- was Nicholas. His body, his lips -- him as a whole. Just Nicholas Galitzine, being the beauty he was. He hated being back home and away from him, yet again. So all he wanted to do was talk to him again. He sent his last letter yesterday once he got home, now he was waiting for something back. He was trying not to call or text, but he was weak. Going to grab his phone just as a message came in. The message had the American actor's jaw drop and he almost felt empty -- a bit turned on as well. The words written had him thinking of all the sex they had and now he hated being apart more. So he quickly texted back.

Text message to Prince Nicholas Dickhead : Nicholas, I expect you to always be so poetic but smut already? I had no idea you were that crazy about me. It almost seems like old news now. Why do I have to be away? I'd take care of you and your urges again. I do have an idea though.

Before doing anything, Taylor walked into his bedroom, of his home, taking his shirt off and going to call Nicholas, requesting a video call so he could hear and see how he was effecting the man that pulled at his heart strings.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: getting up from his desk, moving towards his bed, laying down on the soft bedding, with a groan, closing his eyes and thinking between the week with taylor and if he wanted try to just get his hard on gone. as he was thinking of what to do, he got a text notification and then there was a call coming. this had nicholas curious and he went to answer the call before seeing it was video and chuckled before accepting, but keeping the camera pointing away from himself, showing his desk he was just briefly at attempting to write that bloody letter for taylor prior. "i feel you need to warn before you go calling, especially video chat, you menace," he laughed a bit, "an idea text doesn't mean do it, i hope you're aware," he added, not wanting to admit how he wasn't against it, and seeing taylor's face when he answered definitely put a smile on his own. "is this like a weird sex thing?"

Taylor Zakhar Perez: All he could do was smile, Taylor saw Nicholas again and it made his heart race. "I wanted to help you and since we can't be together physically, I say we try on video. I can still see your beautiful face turning in pleasure as I help get you going." Is that crazy to ask? Maybe, did he anyway? Yes. He didn't care, he wanted the British one so much it hurt, so much he was willing to do whatever it takes. Video chats? So be it. "How hard are you right now, baby?" He asked, as out of view he placed a hand on himself, not quite hard, but it'd be easy to get there with how his former co-star was.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: setting the phone on his nightstand, long ways, getting it set up on a phone holder he had as he rested back onto his bed with a sigh, groaning into the cool fabric before his eyes flashed over to the phone. his body from head to about his chest was present in the camera, as his hazel eyes focused on taylor, he definitely wanted him and wasn't sure when they'd meet up again. "fine.. i'll do this, but promise we can meet up again soon? maybe be together for a while this time?" he asked with a whimper laced in his british accented voice. "i'm pretty hard.. i was just thinking about when you were here and we coupled up," nicholas started to speak, turning his head, closing his eyes, letting taylor see his side profile as he continued. "i thought of how it all was, how it all felt. you'd be so romantic then so sexual. we could be kissing then you start taking it deeper, and there's tongues and teeth. you'd touch me like you were dying to feel, warming up my whole body and telling me sweet nothings. how you feel about me, wanting to fuck me, how you'd fuck me.." he could feel himself getting harder, more erect as his thought of it, a silent moan wrapped around him. "i can still hear what you'd say in my ears as if you're still hear right now telling me, the sounds of your moans right in my ear, mine in yours. and how you'd fuck me, so soft then so hard and fast like your life depending on it.. it was so fucking good," one hand rested on his pillows, the other roamed down his bare chest, hoodie left open, coming down to rub himself through his pants. "talk to me, baby," nicholas finally said, looking back towards the camera, his eye colour darkened by his lustful desires.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: A wide grin flashed over Taylor's face as he looked over at his boyfriend on the phone screen proudly as he set it up for him, doing the same himself after he got in bed. He went no shirt and grey sweat pants. "I promise, baby. I'd keep you from now til January 5th in a perfect fucking world so we could spend all the holidays together." He assured. It'd be a perfect dream situation for him after all. Spend the holidays with the man he was falling for, showing him off like his perfect prize. Now he listened to how poetic his boyfriend was, telling out what was on his mind in such a beautiful way. Just hearing it in that sweet posh British voice he loved, picturing the moments and seeing how Nicholas would turn in pleasure. How he'd shiver, moan and call his name. Fingers in his hair, biting and kissing on his shoulders, nails down along his back and legs around his waist. "Damn, Nick baby," was all he could say for a moment, a bashful smile on his face, looking towards the ceiling, away from the camera for a moment before looking back. "If I was with your right now - I'd kiss your neck soft and slow, before I'd start gently biting and sucking on the skin, leaving you marked and mine. I'd let my hands run down your chest and part going down your sides in a slow manner and just push down your pants and underwear til I got them off and tossed them away." He could feel himself getting hard at his own thoughts of fucking Nicholas again. "I'd throw off my pants right after and allow our bare bodies to touch."

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: the idea of staying that long seemed rather tempting and there was a part of him aching to take it. how close they get to be for such a long time, all the sweet moments, sexual ones and precious ones. it'd almost feel like.. they were living together. "don't tempt me.. i might just do it so we're not doing this again," nicholas answered a bit quickly, head facing upwards, eyes closed in thought, letting his side view be once again taken by the camera for his boyfriend's viewing pleasures. his right arm was out of view and resting on the bed and in the pillows, gently fingering through strands of practically black dyed hair, his left one was under a blanket where he was feeling himself through a layer of fabric. a firm palm rubbing himself causing his body to shiver some, his breath hitching and pants escaping, still picturing them together, completely unclothed and tangled in the best way possible. then taylor spoke, saying what he'd do and it was everything the brit wanted, no, needed to hear, picturing everything he was saying. his slightly taller american boyfriend on top of him in his currently shirtless and sweatpants only state, large tanned hands slowly touching against the pale skin below, finger tips feeling the soft graze of the hoodie fabric left unzipped but still on nicholas' body as taylor kissed and sucked on his neck. those kisses, the gentle nibbles and the sucking on his throat, leaving hickies always caused the younger's body to tremble in pleasure. he loved them, he was crazy about them.

the thoughts were too beautiful, the brit craved it so much, taking his right hand from where it rested on the bed to run down slowly along his bare chest getting him panting heavily as his hands got closer together, imaging taylor there pushing him out of his pants and boxers, causing himself to just push them off his body himself lost in the mental images clouding his mind. "i'd love to feel the heat of our bodies touching right now and your hands all over me," he struggled to say, his right hand falling back to place near the pillows as he left reached his clear erection, just out of camera, starting to stroke it himself. "i can see you.. kissing down my body, marking me up, telling me sweet nothings on what you'd do and how beautiful i am in your eyes.."

Taylor Zakhar Perez: No matter how he saw him, Nicholas was beautiful and Taylor couldn't get enough of looking at him, even if it was the side. "Do it, come spend Halloween, Christmas and New Years with me, baby. Have your first proper American Thanksgiving outside of set," he spoke proud as a last stitch effort to convince the other man given what they were doing currently. "I could touch you again, kiss you, fuck you," he added in a more seductive tone. Seeing the look of pleasure on the British one's face was everything and this had him already touching himself just seeing it, his boyfriend was just to fucking hot. His pants, his moans, his groans and the random shit he'd speak through his pleasures. All so fucking sexy to the American actor. Watching as Nicholas touch his own body was amazing, but also made Taylor wished he was there to touch him himself and cause those sounds from his own touches. In a way he was with the mental images he was helping give, but physically touching would be much better. "You're so damn hot, baby," he said as he moved to own hand down into his sweat pants to feel his growing erection, stroking it some just seeing his boyfriend all pleasured at the thoughts of them together. "Yes, I'd claim you as mine, tell you how hot and sexy you are, how I love the sounds you're making and demand more," he agreed unable to look away from seeing what he did in their video chat. "I'd kiss right down your body til I get close to your erect dick and I'd tease you. I'd suck you off a bit, letting you feel my mouth on you, tongue and teeth grazing and teasing again you and I know it'd drive you crazy in pleasure as you'd say my name." He was stroke himself harder at this point, knowing what his words were doing to Nicholas and thus himself.

"I'd stop and I know you'd whimper and pant as I'd get one of the lube by your bedside and put it on my fingers and stick one inside of you, feeling you, stretching you and hearing your sweet moans and cries of pleasure. I'd fuck the shit out of you with that finger for a bit before adding a second, then a third and just hear you beg for me to fuck you already." Taylor knew how much Nicholas enjoyed the teasing and foreplay but hated when he was left begging but always let it happen. He was putty in Taylor's hands in that way and he fucking loved it. "Then I'd pull them out and finally get the condom open and put it and some lube on my dick before I'd fuck you. Not taking in slow, I'd just go right in, hard and fast, wanting to make you scream in pain and pleasure and beg for me not to stop as your legs would come from my sides to grip on my waist keeping me there just fucking you."

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: despite being lost in his pleasures, he heard every word, and was sold. "i'll pack tomorrow," he spoke quickly, not wanting to lose the images displayed before him in his own thoughts. in this moment, he just wanted sex, he wanted sex with his boyfriend and if they had to do it this way, then so be it. it managed to feel amazing as he started to get lost in the thoughts of it and it made nicholas almost forget he was alone in his room touching himself, taylor was all the way back in america, while he was in london. for the time being it all felt so real and it just made him crave this more. "oh fuck," he moaned out as he stroke himself harder, hearing it all. taylor's voice all low, seductive and sexy saying how those sweet nothings he did during their sexual antics, similar to nicholas' during the actual acts where he'd be so lost in pleasure he'd sometimes speak shit he'd never normally say. as his boyfriend explained the scenes again, keeping the image alive in the brit's mind his right hand came to rest at his own throat, his head gently lolling to the left side, showing his face to the camera. eyes gently closed, mouth slightly open, hair a bit messy but not as much as it could be if they were actually together making love right now. "baby," he moaned out, his hands moving down along his chest again, as if playing out where taylor would kiss him with the touch of his own fingers on himself. his right hand stopped on his stomach, just barely in the camera view and he moaned louder, stroking himself faster as he pictured the older man sucking him to tease and get him to beg to feel him inside.

"taylor," he moaned out just as his boyfriend said, knowing him just that well. between every moan he was just panting so hard like a happy dog at this point, so incredibly turned on, needing to feel relief so desperately. listening to taylor continue he almost lost control of his own actions, his right hand moved further down his own body along his hips and moved to down towards his own arse, putting one of his fingers inside himself just as he imagined taylor would if he was here, thrusting it inside just to feel it all. "you're so good, taylor," he moaned loudly, his twisted in pleasure, adding a second finger just as it was said, then a third, picturing it all, his head moving back against the pillows. "please.." nicholas moaned taking his fingers out of himself, not caring about anything else right now as his hand moved up to grab onto the headboard of his bed. picturing the slightly taller of them thrusting into him hard and fast knowing how badly they both needed it, causing his to stroke himself in the same manner he imagined being thrusted into right now, gripping tightly onto the headboard. "you're so big and amazing inside me.. i wish we were like this forever.. don't fucking top.. plow me into this bed, taylor.. please.. oh fuck.." nicholas moaned loudly, speaking through it like they were actually together fucking right now, that lost in his thoughts and pleasure. "i'm gonna fucking cum.."

Taylor Zakhar Perez: The image displayed and then seeing the look of his boyfriend's face turned in pleasure almost had Taylor, right then and there. It was a beautiful sight seeing that perfect face of his turned in pleasure, need and deep desires, being pleasured and loving every god-damn second of it. This was all he needed to start really stroking himself a few groans and moans escaping with each hard and rather fast paced pumps of his hand on his erect length, looking perfectly on display himself but only caring about Nicholas on display. Every moment it felt as such. What made him almost cum again right then and there was hearing the first moan of his name in that god forsaken posh British accent he's come to truly love and crave to hear always. It was knowing what the moaning of each others names did to them and it was amazing. Then those words, the nonsense he'd say in sex during his pleasures, lost in it and just wanting nothing more than to hear it all right in person. It was made so clear that Nicholas was lost in his pleasures so good he was picturing it, practically feeling it and it was so fucking hot. "Fucking cum for me, baby. Scream out my name as you cum for me," Taylor said, getting very close himself just hearing and seeing all of this on his phone. It was it's own porn and the best fucking kind.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: shaking breathing and really going on on himself, picturing it was taylor pushing into him with a drive, a hunger, a deep desire in such an animalistic way wanting to pleasure both of them and craving them both to reach their orgasms. "oh, christ," he moaned, gripping tighter at the headboard, feeling himself get closer and closer with each imagined thrust, each stroke of himself, lost in deep desires and panting hard between each loud pleasured moan, craving more and more. "right there, taylor, right fucking there. fuck.. h-harder, f-faster," nicholas moaned out, picturing the other doing such as he just stroked himself to his own needy commands. "i'm so fucking close.. just please.. really fucking give it to me." speaking out his pleasures was a thing for nicholas and he surely didn't noticed he did it, didn't care, it was their thing now and it was almost as if he lost control of what he was speaking as he went on. "i'm gonna.. fuck.. taylor," he called out loudly after a couple more hard fast pulls of his own member, his back arching, eyes squeezing shut, gripping tightly at the headboard with his free hand, knuckles going white as he came hard. spilling out onto the bed and himself as he rode out his orgasm, still picturing it all happened with his boyfriend present, taking care of his needs. once he finally came off of it though he opened his eyes, letting go of himself and the headboard, panting hard still and slowly looking over towards the phone camera. "this would have been better if you were here as i pictured."

Taylor Zakhar Perez: The sight, the words, it was all so fucking hot, so fucking sexy and Taylor wished to be there with Nicholas so he could actually pleasure him in the way he was pleasuring himself. He wanted to do what they spoke, imagined and maybe when they were together, it was something they could do. Just be lost in it for a while, fuck like bunnies and enjoy not doing much else at the moment. For now this was what they had to do and this was getting them both going in a way neither imagined it would. "Oh, fuck, Nick, baby," Taylor spoke out, moaning loudly as he pumped himself, reaching his orgasm along with his long distance boyfriend. After he looked to his camera, grinning widely at the sexy sight of his freshly mentally fucked British boyfriend. "I couldn't agree more. We'll have to try and make it happen when you come for the holidays, if you still plan too. We can just pretend we need nothing more than each other and sex."

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: it wasn't going to be easy getting through all this time without each other til the could be back together but for now, nicholas was just really enjoying seeing the other's face, hearing his voice and enjoying so much of their time together. it was all he needed, all he wanted and all he could have til the were together again, unable to keep hands off each other privately and playing it off as good friends publicly. even if taylor's crush was public, nicholas kept his feelings all private, just to enjoy the privacy for now, especially with the film they did still so big to so many right now. if they came out as a couple, they'd never be left alone and fans would scream. it wasn't something he wanted to handle right now. however he did enjoy his boyfriend with every part of himself. "i'll be there around the weekend of the 20th and i can maybe stay a while, we'll see how things go. i'd love to enjoy halloween with you and maybe an american thanksgiving would be a fun experience," he spoke after getting back into his sweat pants, out of view, resting his arm on his arm, body and head turned on the left side towards the camera, hazel eyes focused on taylor on the screen of the cellphone. "i hardly have to pretend.. unless we're in public, of course," the brit smirked some. "are you sure you're okay, keeping this all private for now? your crush for me is so public after all."

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Getting back dressed before his focus was on the camera again, seeing the beauty that was his boyfriend, still all in disbelief sometimes that he got to call Nicholas Galitzine his boyfriend, even though it was all private, even though he'd not be able to say it out loud for time being, still, he was happy. This man just left him so happy, finding his feelings growing as they were together, and in no time he love him, and tell him and in a perfect world, Nicholas would feel the same and say it back. For now, Taylor was enjoying what they were doing now. He couldn't be happier to have the Brit coming to see him for the holidays, spending them with him was truly a dream come true. "Halloween and Thanksgiving together sounds perfect. If you're ready, of course, I mean, I have a big family," He laughed some, soon smirking himself for a moment, 'til he heard the more serious words and a small smile still remained as Taylor sighed. "I am. I don't mind letting the world know I like you, trust me, we can go public when you're ready, it's fine, I promise." He cared so much about Nick being comfortable, he was too happy with him, having him as his that even if it was private for a while, he'd be content.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: some how, taylor didn't have to say or do too much to leave nicholas smiling these days, it was a real power he was gaining over him and he felt so indifferent about it all. now all he wanted was be able to touch the man he loved once again, to hold him close, kiss him and just remember they were together. it made hims heart race some and he couldn't be happier. it was a new relationship still, but he was truly happy he agreed to try, because he never found a moment he wasn't happy with taylor or laughed or even joking. they meshed too well together as friends and now extended to boyfriends? it was a true best of both gift. "i think i'm ready and i can handle it. i'll try not to tease you too much in front of them so you're not hard," he teased with a wink, as the brit always loved to mess with his boyfriend since they met, they always teased, laughed and had a nice time together. they connected so well, it all felt so right, so natural. giving a little nod before a warm smile crossed his full lips. "as long as you're sure. i mean.. right now.. i kinda just love having you to myself. sneaking around like we did for hookups on set, trying not to be seen by cast mates. now it's the same but we're a couple and sneaking around so the world doesn't see us. it's kinda.. hot actually," he said, the last couple words, drawing out of him, making it clear he was getting turned on again.

[l3monivy]

do you like art? if so, what's your favorite kind (paintings, theatre, dance, etc) ? :)

Oh my god I love this question- thank you to whoever asked me it!! :)

I think every single form of art is beautiful because each expresses things- things that don't require logic nor reason- in their own unique language. Art is what makes living worth it and truly enables humans to immerse themselves in the beauty of life. It's the blood that rushes through the veins of the universe and provides us with the nutrients of being that we so deeply need. Art's power is incomprehensible and I think it's beyond incredible that we have it as a way to express thoughts and feelings.

...anyways :)

My favourite form of art is probably either music or literature.

Music because it can swallow me whole and create a window into another realm of being for me to bury myself in, without even using words. It evokes feelings that some things just. can't.

And literature because just the idea that words can be used to not only tell a story, but also create an individually unique world to explore is mind blowing. Letters by themselves seem so small and feeble but when you string them together they form something so much greater and their power is so immense and I think that's incredible.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

This isn't what it looks like, stick with me.

Now that we've got that out of the way --

I'm rather of the opinion that we don't create our children.

I used to blame a lot on my parents, and to be fair, I do think they could've done a much better job in learning about facing challenges and facilitating my needs so I could learn more about myself. They certainly didn't always help, in many regards, and they also most definitely did help make me who I am.

* they helped me make myself who I am, that is.

Now that I've gone on to fill their shoes, it always felt weird to have people telling me I was "creating life". I wasn't, really. I gave life the opportunity to create itself. We provided the materials, and I donated my resources and provided a place for her to grow, but she did the growing.

It felt the same way when people would compliment us on having a very adventurous eater as a young toddler. They'd ask us what we did and I would shrug and say, "I don't know, we just offer it and she eats it. She's the one who deserves the compliments, not me."

It's a lot more complicated than that, I know. I'm just thinking about all of the people who were raised under less-than-ideal conditions, and went on to be who they are not because of everything, but in spite of everything. It's as empowering as it is a feeling of helplessness. Where do I fit in?

It's like a canvas, like a blank page. Only, I think in this analogy, and the reason I started writing, was that it wasn't a blank page. It was a page that had been written on, imparted upon it all of its creators hopes and dreams. No longer blank, but still a canvas nonetheless.

What this is, is a love letter to what happens with the canvas when an audience interacts with it. Not what happens TO the canvas, but what the audience comes away with, and what piece they copied down to take with them. I've written a little bit about it before.

I was thinking about it in terms of what we take away from our favorite shows and books and movies. I was thinking about it in terms of how my daughter doesn't belong to me, how she will interact independently with the canvas that I provide her, the one titled "parenting". I created the piece, but I cannot force her interpretation of it.

I feel like creating in general is a lot like that. I will create the canvas, and everyone will take a piece of it with them on their journeys, and all of these little pieces I've inspired will do so many things I will never, ever know about.

I feel like that can feel hopeless -- why bother if I don't know? But in the unknown there lives something great, something vast and powerful. There lives the antithesis to hopelessness: hope itself. I don't know what effects my ripples will have, but I know that people who never thought they were important have inspired me, and therefore I can look into the unknown and hope that I will, in some way, make an impact on someone somewhere.

My daughter isn't the canvas, she is the audience. I don't know what pieces she'll copy down. I hope it's the good ones.

But this isn't really about her, it's about the art of creation, and creating myself. The art is an extension of myself, but I can't create the audience. I string together the words on the canvas, but ultimately everyone will come away with their own interpretation of it.

What these things have in common is both the power and the lack thereof. The chaos and the organization. The absolute beauty that comes from people coming together to enjoy the sharing of perspectives in all forms.

That is just absolutely wild.

[wintersmp]

Unwelcome and Unapologetic (Chapter Three)

Welcome back once more!! We have another fresh toasty chapter out the oven ready to share!!

Major warning for violence and emotional incest in this one!

AO3 Link here!

“Excuse me sir, ma’am, it’s time to wake up…” Agora stood in the doorway. 

Shuffling awake, Lynx opened groggy eyes to the sight of her father still lovingly embracing her palm from the night before. He had stumbled in, probably drunk, and muttered some strange strings of sentences, briefly mentioning her mother before falling beside her. She took her hand to herself, watching the way his knuckles hit the floorboards limply. Liam was deep in slumber, and the duo decided it was best to leave him be. Lynx gently placed a blanket over top of his figure.

Leaving to the hallway, Agora grabbed his lover’s hands with a sense of anxiety filling him. 

“Darling,” whispered the nervous teen, “There’s something I must discuss with you…”

She perked in interest, shoulders relaxing as she followed her partner down the staircase. Everything was just as neat and tidy as usual, and as she was guided to the dining room, she looked around in confusion.

“Should you not be helping me with my outfit today? Or-” She was hushed, a finger catching her lips.

Agora’s breath hitched, “I really shouldn’t tell you this, but-” he glanced around, fearful behind his shoulder, “Actually- yes, let’s just get ready for the morning. We can spend some time together, can’t we?”

Her eyelashes lowered, and she was feeling disrespected, “Agora. You’ve just gotten me excited to not tell me anything?”

“I can’t, it would ruin me-” Agora shuttered, standing over the dark oak.

“Then don’t bring it up to begin with!” She huffed.

“I- I’m sorry, my dear. Let me make it up to you. Let’s spend today in the conservatory, admiring the houseplants, can’t we? We’ll make today special.”

Lynx sighed, as she was now led to the downstairs dresser of hers. Agora picked through the clothes inside, eventually settling on a beautiful dress. Holding it before her, she flashed angry eyes.

“I hate dresses.”

Agora flinched, “I’m sorry, kitten, forgive my mistake, please?”

She turned away, refusing to meet his sorrowful eyes, “You should know that about me.”

“I wasn’t aware-” Agora pleaded, “Forgive me, ma’am.”

“Don’t!” Lynx hissed, “I don’t want to be called that!”

Agora quieted, “What should I refer to my gorgeous darling as then…?” She- They fell silent. 

“Kitten?”

“I wish things were different…” Lynx sighed, tears forming in their eyes, “You have to tell me. I will share my secret with you, only if you share what’s bothering you.”

Agora knew it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. His darling would be terribly upset to be refused. He fumbled with his words, trying to adjust the truth to be manageable.

“Okay,” he let his shoulders go limp, “I’ll tell you.”

Lynx nodded, “Okay.”

It took a good minute to get the wording right, and Agora heaved with each letter, “Something bad happened last night.”

“And what was it?” Lynx began to remember the strange words of their father. Something was piecing together, and Lynx didn’t like it.

“Nickel- he-” Agora motioned to the floor, “I had to-”

A cold chill ran down Lynx’s spine. 

“I had to clean it all up- ‘take care’ of it-” Agora’s breath was uneven and heavy.

‘He’s gone forever,’ The horrific words flooded through her.

Panic struck her, and she disregarded her own misery and feelings, taking to become distressed over the disappearance of Nickel. 

Agora confirmed her terror, “He’s gone, love.”

The room spun, and she was dazed and caught off guard, unaware of where she was or what was happening suddenly. 

Bile rose in her throat.

“Did you kill him?!”

“No!” Agora defended, stepping backwards, “It wasn’t me!”

That only left one option.

The strange and mysterious man who collapsed against her bedside.

“You did not just imply my father to be a cold-blooded killer!”

Gasping, jaw dropped, Agora pushed, “What do you believe, Lynx?!”

“Not this horrible idea that my dad would have murdered someone! That is foul! How dare you imply that!” She was caught in a tornado of stomach-churning frenzy. Her temper was lost in her rage, and she balled up fists, “You disgust me, servant!”

She turned tail and stormed away, bitterness filling her as she made her way back to her room. Lynx found her father there, and she felt sicker than ever. It made no sense. Sure, he could be rude, he could be unforgiving, he could hurt her and justify it later as discipline, but he couldn’t…

“Salut, father,” She greeted, “How come you were in my room?” He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders in tune, “I wanted to check on you, and must have slipped into a deep sleep, ma fleur. I apologize if I worried you.”

She nodded, not meeting the glint in his glasses, “Father?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

She felt nauseous, “I trust you.”

His eyes darkened momentarily, and his fingers flexed at his sides, “What nonsense has the butler spewed at you?” “Nothing, nothing,” She lied, and her father saw straight through her, giving a dark glare. She shifted weight from one foot to another, “He… said some nasty thing about you, father.”

“Ah, I had some trouble with Nickel yesterday. Agora saw us argue.”

Lynx took this information in, nodding softly along with the words, “You must have seen him out after, yes?”

“Of course,” Liam latched onto the sentence, “I saw him out, and he drove away.”

“I understand,” She smiled lovingly.

They were still, neither dare moving. 

After what felt like an eternity, Lynx outstretched an arm, careful, like dealing with a rabid dog. She gestured for the offer of an embrace, and her father rushed to take her in his arms. He took great comfort in the hug, wrapping his sleeves around her waist. Hands came to meet her back, and a circle was rubbed into her pajamas, thumbing the fabric beneath his hand softly. The embrace lasted for a century, and Lynx was the one to break it. She fumbled backwards, out of her father’s arms. His glasses tinted, and he curled his lip.

“Thank you for talking to me…” She spoke in a low hushed tone.

“Of course, darling,” Liam responded hastily, “Anything for you.”

She gave a half smile and then had her father leave the room so she could change. She found a nice outfit to get dressed up in, one that was not even similar to a dress. Slipping into the formal shirt and blue pants, she was shocked to see the door slightly ajar. She tensed, and peeked her head out, only to spy her father walking down the hallway. She shivered, and then took to putting on her socks and shoes.

Downstairs once again, Lynx found breakfast on the table. She looked over into the kitchen, spotting Agora dejectedly moving slow and shy. She chose to ignore the butler, and sat down to eat.

Finishing the delightful meal, the young girl turned once more. Her gaze was sad and worrisome as she searched endlessly for the servant she loved so. He was out of the room now, and she felt ashamed at how she screamed earlier. It was cruel to imply what he did, however, the odd way her father was behaving did give way to some concern. It was unfamiliar and deeply troublesome.

Lynx decided to look for her partner.

Most rooms were thoroughly searched, purposefully avoiding Liam’s master bedroom and his study. She eventually made her way to the conservatory, and found Agora sitting on the bench. “Don’t you have anything to do right now?” She questioned, her tone coming off slightly annoyed with her meaning it that way. Agora whipped around to meet her fiery gaze, “Apologizes, mistress.”

She scoffed, “It’s okay, love, I didn’t mean it rudely,” She brushed her braid behind her.

Agora combed fingers through his hair, “I’m truly sorry for what I said earlier…” Lynx shifted uncomfortably, “You’re right that my father is behaving off. He’s been strange since the other night at the ball. Something is clearly wrong.”

Agora nodded.

“I just don’t understand how- why- if he could even do that.”

“Do you believe me then…?”

“How can I, dear? How can I trust you to be honest?” She took a sharp inhale through her teeth, which grinded harshly against themselves.

The teen hummed worriedly, “I would never lie to you. Especially about this horrible thing.”

Lynx let tears fall down her chin, “I just don’t understand…”

“Neither do I, dear…” Agora sighed, turning away.

She looked away, “Let’s have that special day, please?”

“Of course, I’m so sorry, love.” As the morning faded, the evening came riding along gently, and Agora prepared a meal in the kitchen while he spoke softly with his darling Lynx. They chatted casually, ignoring their shared turmoil all the while cooking up something delicious to have later. Bringing the food into a basket, they moved back outside. A blanket was placed across the ticklish grass, and the basket on top of that. The pair sat beside one another, gentle loving looks in their eyes. Grey and green came together to lock affectionately with one another. 

“What were you going to say earlier?”

Lynx flushed, being brought back to the previous moment, “Oh- do I have to say?”

“I’d like to hear what’s on your mind…”

She felt that uncomfortable sensation bubble again, rising as vomit, “I just- dislike being a girl.”

“Oh.”

“All you have to say is ‘oh’?” Lynx fidgeted, “Say anything else, please.” “I… don't exactly want to be a boy,” He admitted gently.

“Oh.”

He laughed heartily, “See? You said it too!”

“I mean!-” Lynx huffed, “What else should I say!”

He laughed louder, smile wrinkling his eyelids, “You make me feel so happy-”

Lynx let herself slip into his arms, enjoying the serenity; the calm before the storm, that was, what she would do about her father and his ‘eccentric’ actions.

Sighing, the two of them pushed past the discomfort and anxiety. They merely laid in one another’s arms. The calm had to end eventually, as their peace was rudely interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Stumbling, Agora raced to get out of his lover’s embrace. He stood to his feet anxiously, brushing off invisible dust from his pants. Lynx gulped hard, uneven breath ragged and frightened.

Liam stepped into the conservatory. 

“What are you two doing out here?” He snapped, glancing back and forth between their forms, “You should be cooking dinner, and Lynx, ma fleur, please do not interact with our butler this way. It is repulsive.” She dipped her head, “Yes, father.”

“Now, Lynx, I wish to see you alone.”

She tensed, but nodded anyhow.

Following her father into the study, she was sat on top of the desk, with her father sitting in his swivel chair. 

He let out a deep sigh, “You have disappointed me today. You don’t do that often.”

She remained quiet. “What is going on between you and our servant?” “Nothing-” She hurried out, mind racing.

“It does not look like ‘nothing’! Mon dieu, you cannot be having sex with this boy!” “No!” Her hair stood on end, “I didn’t! I promise! I wouldn’t do that!”

“You are a liar!” Liam screamed, his chest heaving, “Tell me now, how many times have you slept with this lowly creature!?”

“You have no right to know!” She cried, flushed and ashamed at her pitiful status, “I- I didn’t even! I could never with such a low class!” 

“You lying brat!” Liam snapped, “Get your pants down. Now.”

Blushing, Lynx just listened to what her father demanded. Her pants were quickly discarded, and she laid over her father’s lap, mentally preparing for the next part. Her eyes squeezed shut in fear. Sweat collected in her armpits and underboobs, and she tensed.

Her panties were slipped down and then the sound of her father unbuckling himself rang in her sensitive ears. He took the belt and folded it over itself. With a sudden snap, it collided with her bare bottom. Her rear end was slapped again and again, lashed relentlessly as she mentally counted the number of her beating. One. Two. Three.

Her father was roaring, voice squealing in her ears, “Putain! Tu regretteras de m'avoir désobé!” 

Four, five, six, seven.

As the lashings entered the double digits, she realized how badly she truly screwed up. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

“You belong to me, remember that!” He hissed, hot breath against her ear. A hand snaked down to her butt, and gripped the squishy flesh roughly. He bruised the soft flesh underneath his tight grasp, causing Lynx to yelp pitifully.

“You are my daughter. Only mine. Nobody else’s,” He growled against her, digging his nails into her rear, “You will never see that boy again, understood? If you really need to get attention, you will come to me from now on.”

So Lynx was nothing but a dirty liar to her father; in his eyes, she was just a slut. Her genuine relationship meant nothing to him. She was just as low as the pathetic street peoples they had seen before the ball, and for a second, she truly believed that's all she was. How was she supposed to cope when the one man who was meant to love and raise her, considered her nothing above a street whore? 

He deemed her punished enough and tossed her pants back in her direction. She caught the material by the waistband, and hurried to hike her panties up her butt, and slide back into her dress pants. At the same time, her father was doing his belt buckle back up, groaning with mild annoyance. 

“I love you, it's why I hurt you,” he explained pathetically, “You deserve a father who can discipline you when need be. I'd never hurt you without reason.”

The floodgate of her father's opened, and tears poured down his eyes, “You understand why I must do this, ouais? You have misbehaved, and I'm only correcting the disgusting behavior.” 

Lynx stilled. With everything she had been shown, why shouldn't her father be a murderer too?

It was a painfully morbid realization. This man was deranged and crazed beyond words, going to such extremes to ‘protect’ the young girl. He was a monster waiting to strike again.

“Run along, mon fleur, please,” he sobbed, “Leave your old man to his study.”

Lynx left the room, fast.

She had to get to Agora, before he did.

[denauth]

⚘ 💌 🍒 💓 💕🍦

for vaw 🌸

hi dream :3€

⚘ what’s your type/do you have a type?

twinks. androgynous people. pretty boys and handsome women. people who are good at fps games (for some reason. i could be some valorant players discord kitten.) people with tattoos/piercings. uhhh also apparently anime men.

💌 love letters or poetry? love songs or mixtapes? make out sessions or snuggling?

both for the first one!!!! i am a poetry enjoyer it can literally be garbage and i’ll love it. i love art babey. also mixtapes!! i feel. Awkward. when people sing to me. and i like when people recommend me new music :3 and snuggling because. comfee

🍒 down to earth, comfortable love or an exciting, butterflies in your stomach type of love?

a bit of both probably but honestly?? comfortable love. i like being domestic i like feeling warm and cozy with someone

💓 what do people do that makes your heart skip a beat? what makes your heart melt?

literally everything i am very easily flustered i just hide it well. just people doing/saying things that shows that they were thinking of me always gets me. like sending something and going “this reminded me of you!!” or saying they were talking with someone about me and im like woagh…... waow…….. u think of me??????? uu like me????

💕 vague about your crush or partner

IS IT REALLY VAGUEING IF ONE OF THEM SENT THIS. anyway it’s so nice and amazing and i don’t know where i would be without it. actually i do and that’s one of the reasons i love it so much it got me out of a shitty place and now i’m extremely happy :3 also lightning round: he (1) is very sweet and kind and also very intelligent. and also bird. big bird nice to hold. he (2) is so nice and makes me feel so safe and can immediately make me feel better whenever i’m stressed out or hurt or upset. and they are so incredibly smart i do Not understand why they like my zero braincell ass. very beautiful also very good accent. very good. TLDR I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!

(special mention goes to my qpp i miss u u hoofd bastard)

🍦 what are ten things you love about yourself?

WHY WOULD U ASK ME THIS!!!! i hate u

1. i guess i like that i’m still. here??? that’s a Heavy answer but like. i’ve been thru so much and yet i’m STILL here baby fuck u i'm resilient

2. i feel like i’m easy to make friends with?? maybe? i like that i’m good at befriending people

3. i have a nice ass. and thighs.

4. i'm good at learning languages!!! i thought i kinda lost it since i haven't done it in a while but apparently i've still got it :]

5. i like that i've improved a lot as a person? i've grown a lot and i think it's been for the better

6. oh god this is only number six and i already can't think of any uhhhhhh. i like. my hair. it's been thru hell i've been dyeing it since age 14 and it hasn't even gotten fried yet. we win these

7. WAIT OKAY this one is really specific but i feel like it's my Charm Point. i have a mole on the right side of my right pointer finger. and i think it's really cute i really like it :3

8. okay fine. big boobs. i may not like them all of the time but. they're pretty nice

9. this is something i've been told rather than something i necessarily believe in but?? i've been told i'm very intelligent and i'm good at stringing words together and making my point come across

10. LAST ONE i love that i'm just a silly little guy. a little creature. a beast even. meow

[jonathankatwhatever]

Still 4 August 2023 and I just looked at the Navier-Stokes equations and part of the answer is almost self-adressed by the fact of grisp construction. I’m thinking the answer is yes and now, btw. Yes, that solutions exist, but no that doesn’t make them easy to find. I need to translate the actual equations better.

Now 5 August 2023 and there’s a block preventing me from digging into any subject until I understand orthogonality and Irreducibility better. These connect to the pigeon-hole principle, to any theorem which describes crossing from one region to another, to any transition from some identifiable state to some other. That is basically what this work describes. So what can I say about it that I haven’t yet said? What have you got to tell me? What comes next?

That’s a hook. What comes next? Whether an incarnation, like a Phoenix or stitched together Osiris, or seemingly as unchangeable as the Sentinel Storyline, there is always that line, the line we know so well, which we typically call the midline in Triangular. When we relate it to a counter, then it’s the counting line. When we relate it to Observer, then it’s the O-line.

Another meaning in oasis. Swap the o for a b hidden behind, and it’s a sacred basis which is an oasis. That’s funny: b to o is 2 to 15, so that’s a 13, and it’s 13 from o to b. Cool. If I spell out a y, then it’s 11 and 2.

So in one paragraph, I went from Storyline to simple description of fundamentals. And then into the same kind of counting play which I always thought was idiotically me, but which turns out to be within the potential necessary to generate actual spellings, actual counts using a 26 long potential string, which is important because CM28 is 1+CM26+1, meaning it does what? It Triangulates, so the CM26 acts as an End to the other 2 Ends. See how beautiful that is? It literally fits a max length segment which Attaches at both Ends. It fills the gap Between these Ends.

And because it does, and because it makes an alphabet as opposed to lesser dimensional counts, then we can Attach meanings. Words appear in order. Letters appear in their places within words. Punctation appears. This all fits across gaps, across spaces. It’s 0-1-0.

What about this being English? This only says that a 26 count works, not that it’s English-centric. Each form of alphabet has something to recommend it, some form which it embodies. Can we argue, though, that 26 helps English spread? That it fits well to meanings because it is flexible in certain ways, rigid in others. I’m thinking it’s sort of like an equal tempering: this language with this alphabet and sounds is better at this, but not at that, and English is sort of mediocre in many dimensions. It can be precise, but it can be imprecise. It can be melodic and harsh. And so on.

Remember how much time we spent thinking about that? I think that occurred largely during law school. I don’t know how to think about stuff like this: I consider you to be the same entity, but I don’t know what you know or remember about stuff that happened before you were specifically you. My instincts say yes and the path to results has always been through yes.

I have to get that straight. When I accept, I get results because that is the same as a group operation, meaning some pathway and thus some movement or shift and thus some counting across symmetries because those are the states we can see. But that often comes from 2 negative sources. I guess the 2 is a well duh moment. One is fear that this is the End and I only have a short time left to do what I can. The other is doubt. I can see the Triangular: belief but out of time, doubt meeting that, so they can shift over the connecting 1-0Segment.

Even yesterday, I would not have believed I could so easily construct Triangular. It looks easy now. So if I invert my state of knowledge over that 1-0Segment, I can see myself tracing a path that follows belief by eliminating doubt, and it does this by expanding belief and thus eliminating doubt as each expansion generates pairings which describe the doubts for the included level of belief or acceptance. See why that happens? We construct Triangular to the pairings now that we have an inversion level above (and below, because this is induction, both one way and two way).

Does that map to quadrants? It obviously does, since we’re talking about LayerView, and one of the main points of LV is that it goes around the quadrants. Look at the basic Leibniz series: when you subtract ⅓ or add ⅕, then you are doing that entire level. That is why we can treat these as directional, as alternations: because they also run around the LV, around the quadrants.

I’ll post. Need a break.

————

Seriously? I was in Joanna describing how you can refine a dish and lose the flavor by comparing those essentials to a subgroup. Then: 26 sporadic simple groups are an alphabet that fills the space in 1+CM26+1. That’s obvious now.

So monster 20 + 6. Like consonants and vowels. I forgot: German is 26 + 4 letters. Even Chinese is like 6 simplified vowels and 20 non-blended consonants.

—————-

Can’t make new posts but can add so…. This is insanely great work!

[an0det0l0ve]

My love,

how do you write a love letter? How do you start something so intimate with nothing but a piece of paper and a pen? How is it possible to capture the emotions in ink without faltering? A part of me thinks I am a fool for not writing you love letters every single day. If anyone deserves to be buried in the sweet contents of love confessions, it is you. And yet here we are, two years later and I am blotting the paper with a string of words in a futile attempt to give you insight on how you make me feel, for the very first time. Well, here goes nothing!

Vincent… My beautiful, remarkable Vincent. Two years, can you believe it? That’s a whole lot of days if you count them, and even more minutes, seconds. And yet, in the greater scheme of things, it is only a tiny little fraction of the eternity that still lies before us. Do you believe in past lives? Do you believe that you and I have already met one another in the past, in another life, another reality we can no longer remember? I’d like to believe that we have. I’d like to believe that every life we lead, only ends when we are reborn in a new one. And of course, if that is true, I would also love to believe that you accompany me in every lifetime. Maybe we might look different, maybe we might even be a whole entire entity or living organism. But regardless of what we are and how we go through life, we are paired together. Sooner or later we find one another and become one, fusing together like we are no longer two separate things. I mean, not in a creepy or cringy way, obviously. Not like those strange couples who always come in pairs and have no private life anymore. I just mean that at the end of the day, when night falls and life goes quiet and the world around us falls asleep, we will be together somewhere, curled up together and inhaling one another’s scent. Yeah, I think I’d like that kind of ongoing reality with you.

There is this thing about life. The fact that there is no certainty and the fact that every reality continuously changes in a way that more often than not affects us. Most changes are unpredictable and uncalled for. Some changes though, the ones you least expect, have a way of changing your life for the better. I believe that when I met you, this is what happened to me. I had not expected to fall for you. I mean, I had seen you around and I had heard a lot about you - OBVIOUSLY - but I am not the type of person to really go and talk to people I don’t know. It often makes me nervous and uncomfortable, as you know. But talking to you was easy, despite the language barrier. To me that has never been a problem, actually. Your energy was lovely, and that made it easy to spend time with you. Knowing the history between Elio and you, it was never at all my intention to get involved with you the way I did. It is the first time I ever fell for the love interest of a friend of mine. So when it did happen, and I knew that I was insanely attracted to you, I knew that it meant something. I am so, so happy that I acted upon my feelings toward you. Imagine I would have neglected them. Imagine I would have been like ‘No, I can’t do this because of the history between Elio and Vincent,’.... NO I DON’T EVEN WANT TO THINK ABOUT THAT NOW. I do remember he was very jealous though….. No idea who he was jealous about, actually, hahaha.

Listen to me closely… I know we have had our issues and struggles. But above all that, we have spent such a beautiful time together. We built memories and lived the most beautiful life up until this point. The best part about this is that it is only the beginning for us. You are stuck with me, sir.

You are loving and caring, truthful, loyal, honest and funny. You are beautiful, you are my best friend, and you love in such a brutally sincere way that at times I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. There is not a single thing I would change about you; about us. I am in love with you and I am in love with us. I am in love with how perfect we are together, and I am so darn proud I get to spend this life with you (this one and many many many more) If anyone ever asks me about you, I will beam with pride and joy when I tell them about you, and then I’ll pull you closer and shove it in their faces just how amazing you truly are. How does a heart do it, to fall in love daily with the same person? You give me energy and motivate me to become a better person and learn from my mistakes. You do things to me, and you opened up a part of me I thought I had forever closed. Getting hurt and having had my heart broken so many times had left me damaged and incomplete, and yet you found all these little separate parts of me and put them back together. You made me more beautiful.

I can tell you one thing, Vincent, and that is that I never ever want to live a day without you by my side ever again. Even when we fight and there is silence between us, I still want you near. Even when I tell you to fuck off, I actually mean that I want you to wrap your arms around me and reel me closer. When I tell you that I am mad, or that I am tired, or that I had enough, all I am trying to say is ‘Please, never stop loving me.’

You are my personal heaven on earth. My safe haven. (also my puta)

This with you, this life we built together, it is ours. It is everlasting.

I love you with every part of me and I always will.

Casper

[beakeoghan]

we just haven't met yet

Pairing: Druig x human!reader

Summary: It is your first Feb. 14th together and Druig wants to share something with you.

Word count: 989

Warnings: just a load of fluff!

Author’s note: This was intended to be much shorter but somehow I always end up rambling dhsjdhajk just something I wanted to write to all lovelies out here who (like me) are still hoping to find someone kind and loving. A little inspired by we just haven't met yet by russ and also invisible string by taylor swift. <3 Happy valentine's day!

Druig’s pace was slow while walking to your place. He had a blue petroleum box wrapped with a bow, some chocolate truffles, and movie tickets on hand. It was your first Valentine’s day today and, although he didn’t cherish and care so much for those socially imposed days, he knew you loved them and wanted to make something special. He was nervous, but maybe it was just the first Feb. 14th jitters.

He didn’t even have to knock on your door — you were already waiting for him with the biggest smile. You had bought him two vinyl records from the artist he liked and baked some double dark chocolate chip cookies as a gift. The sweet smell that remained in the air felt like a blanket, coating him with all the warm and fuzzy feelings that baking something to someone meant.

“Hi, my love.” He said as you opened the door. “Who’s the lucky lad that’s taking you out tonight? ”

“Oh, just some guy.” You hugged him on his waist, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Your presents are on the side table, can you wait a minute? I forgot my jacket.”

He quietly nodded with a smile and made his way to your sofa, putting his presents on his side. The records weren’t a surprise. He remembered that right at the beginning of your relationship, you bought him the record player he owns, all because you wanted him to get into music and he hated everything that was too modern. He insisted that it wasn’t necessary, but now his routine was to put something to play at night, and every time he did, he thought of you.

The cookies were a standard by now since you knew he adored and craved them so much, you’d bake it all the time. And honestly, the lack of surprise was what made him the happiest at that moment.

The pure feeling that everything he could expect from you was familiar. The love, the care, the security he felt around you. The notion that your days together were so filled with love and appreciation that every single day was special. You didn’t need a date scheduled on the calendar to show that you loved each other — every day was a day to love you.

“I’m back.” You said, stepping into the fluffy carpet by the living room floor. “How did you like your gifts?”

“They are not that bad, thank you, beautiful.” He laughed with a boyish grin as he stood up to embrace you, leaving a small peck on your lips. Gifts in hand, he offered you with a gesture. “For you.”

Quickly bringing yourself to the floor and making him join, you sat with your legs crossed over one another. The tickets were to watch Dirty Dancing on the street theater a couple of minutes from your apartment, it was a special screening for valentine’s day. Your boyfriend didn’t care that much about the movie. Although, you did catch him listening to the soundtrack a couple of times.

The truffles were from your favorite coffee shop. You used to buy a box every weekend but stopped with the excuse that you were eating way too much sugar. He strongly disagreed.

Lastly, you reached for the blue box, unwrapping it easily. He made a little mysterious face before you opened it.

“What is it?” You asked, going through a bunch of paper notes, a couple of envelopes, and napkins all scattered around the box.

“Letters and confessions.” He said, picking one particular note from the inside. “From before I met you, and while I was meeting you.”

You blushed a little, confused. You tilted your head to the side as if asking him to go on.

“This. Us.” He gestures to you and back at him. “Routine, safety. Not taking for granted, cherishing time together. It was never something I imagined for myself, but somehow I wanted it. So I wrote my feelings every time I’d feel hopeless or on the verge of giving up on love.”

Druig reached for the box, picking it up from your lap and sorting out the papers inside it, searching for one in particular.

When he found what he was looking for, he handed it to you and asked you to read it. “This one was before our first date. I wrote it on this napkin right after you asked me out.”

You chuckled at the memory of you anxiously asking him on a date. You normally wouldn’t do that to a total stranger at a coffee shop, but there was something about him. He had shown up unexpectedly everywhere you went, and the funny thing is that you certainly noticed it, but he didn’t.

It was like an invisible string kept surrounding you two, and you decided to correspond to the signals of the universe.

“Exactly.” He answered your thoughts. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous and you’ve been too quiet.”

“You’re nervous? That’s new.” You raised an eyebrow, teasing him. You were about to read the napkin when he placed his hand above it and put it back on the box.

“You know what, read it later when we go to bed. If you read it now, you’ll make fun of me all night.” He quickly rises from the floor, offering his hands to help you out. “C’mon we’ll be late for the movie.”

His cheeks were burning and it was not easy to make him that flustered. You nodded to his command as he kissed the corner of your lips and walked to the front door.

“Wait, I have to pick up my bag.” You said as he walked towards the hallway.

You rushed back to the box, looking for that napkin. You felt a little shimmer of tears forming on your eyes when you read:

I think I fell in love with you. We just haven’t met yet.

A/N: feedback is always appreciated <3 love, bea

[wishesunderthestars]

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.

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

 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.

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

 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.”

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

 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