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wishesunderthestars · 7 months

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Eunoia // Ch. 26

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, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’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: 12.1k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence,

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It was the second time Taehyung was in Jungkook’s atelier—only recently had Jungkook started thinking of it like that, before it was the atelier—but he was looking around him like it was a fairytale and everything was made of magic. Jungkook guessed he must have looked a little like that as well the first time you had shown him the room and told him it was his to do as he pleased. Athens and the Parthenon stretching on the wall never failed to inspire wonder and a deep respect in him, regardless of how long it had been since the first time he walked inside.

Everything else in the room was quite different from that first day. The once pristine and unused room was now splattered in paint. It was everywhere, on the floor and the cabinets and on the many newspapers that he used to cover everything. The first time he had stained the floor with paint, he had gone to you with teary eyes, lowered ears, and a hundred apologies on the tip of his tongue. You had simply laughed and told him that the room was his and he could paint the whole floor if he wanted to. The only thing you asked of him was to be careful of the wall painting. Jungkook would have never touched it in the first place.

Finished canvases were leaning against the cabinets and the walls. Most of them were of places Jungkook found beautiful, the Eiffel Tower, the Parthenon, a neighborhood in Amsterdam he had seen in one of your photos. There were also a few paintings of the pack, you and Seokjin cooking in the kitchen, Yoongi playing the piano, Namjoon and Hoseok under the large tree in the garden, Taehyung with Alice at the lake, and Jimin smiling so wide his eyes turned into crescent moons.

Jungkook longed for Jimin with an insatiable hunger. Now that he had gotten a taste of him once and Jimin told him he wanted it, now that there was no guilt and anguish, he couldn’t get enough of him. He wanted to always be touching him, holding him, and scenting him. His scent was like an aphrodisiac to him and he was addicted.

However, when Taehyung had shyly asked about his atelier, he was compelled to show it to him. It wasn’t often that Taehyung asked for anything and although he hadn’t specifically asked to see the room, Jungkook knew he would like it. Taehyung’s smile was also addicting and rare like a precious gem. So, he had left Jimin with Seokjin to cook in the kitchen and had taken Taehyung’s hand and climbed down the stairs. His hand was soft and he could still feel its ghost on his palm.

He was right, Taehyung’s smile was worth it. It was a tiny one, a small curve of his lips, but it was stunning.

His tiger ears twitched when his eyes landed on the painting of him. He approached slowly, taking it in. A hand reached out but he drew it back before it could touch the canvas.

In the painting, Alice was grinning brightly at Taehyung, one of her rainbow butterfly hair-clips clipped on his dark hair. But what Jungkook loved the most about it was Taehyung’s smile. For the first time, with Alice, Taehyung looked genuinely happy. The painting didn’t do the moment justice, he hadn’t managed to capture the tiger hybrid perfectly. He had taken a picture of the two of them and used it as reference but it was difficult, almost impossible, to immortalize Taehyung’s beauty in that moment.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook asked gently.

Taehyung startled as if the painting had enchanted him and Jungkook’s voice broke the spell. He hugged himself with one hand, almost like he wanted to stop himself from touching the painting. “It’s… beautiful.”

“It was a beautiful moment,” Jungkook agreed. “Alice is incredible, right?”

Taehyung nodded slowly. “I… have it. The butterfly. She doesn’t want back… it.”

They both looked at the painting. Jungkook wasn’t sure if they were seeing the same thing but maybe they were.

“Do you want to paint again?” he asked, breaking the silence. He took down the half-finished canvas of a beach from the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to agree this time. They picked up different brushes, chose a few tubes of oil paint and set themselves to work. Jungkook showed him how to paint a sunset—he had perfected the skill through a lot of observation and many YouTube videos. Taehyung seemed to have fun blending the colors and drawing the shapes of semi-transparent clouds.

They stayed in the atelier for a few hours until they were called for dinner by Hoseok, whose heart-shaped smile at seeing them together in their paint-splattered clothes rivaled the beauty of the sunset. After the meal, Jungkook asked if Taehyung would like to take the painting of him and Alice to his room. They hung it on the wall with Yoongi’s help and went back to the garden together.

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

You were filming at Monmouth Manufacturing for the day. They were the last couple of scenes you would be filming there for Season 1. Hopefully—and most probably—, you would see it again next year, or the year after that, filming for Season 2. First, you would have to finish Crooked Kingdom and then towards the end of the year, maybe you could work on the Raven Cycle. Your schedule was already crazy and you were troubled about what that meant for the next year.

A headache was brewing behind your temples and you were trying very hard to ignore it. You had been at the studios since 6 o’clock in the morning and you were going crazy. It would be one of those 15-16 hour days. You could see it coming. The executive producer of Paper Hearts had called to tell you that you were desperately needed for a board meeting for the next season. They had changed the time of the meeting to later in the afternoon to fit your schedule, which proved that it was important. You dreaded the drive to the other side of Los Angeles and what was sure to be a very long discussion.

During your lunch break, you texted Namjoon that you would be late again. He didn’t say anything but you knew he was disappointed. He had to be. You had barely spent any time with them in the past few days. There were also matters you still had to discuss. You hadn’t told the other hybrids about the thing between the three of you and they deserved to know. Your headache got worse just thinking about it.

You flipped through the script during a small break, sipping on your third cup of coffee of the day. It was making you jittery but the other option was falling asleep in your chair.

“Okay, I think we are good to move on to the next scene,” you told Will. “And then we’re done for the day.”

“Should I get someone to call the actors?”

“Yeah, see if they are done with makeup and send them in.” You rolled your neck and let out a heavy sigh. “All things considered it’s going pretty well.”

Will chuckled as he motioned for someone from the staff to come closer. “For someone who’s been here since six, you’re doing remarkably well.”

You waited for him to send the man to fetch the actors before speaking again. “We’ll see about that when we’re done with this scene. If I’m on my feet and awake by then, I deserve an award.”

Will shrugged, leaning back on his chair. “I’ve seen you do worse. Do you remember when we were filming ‘The Grand Masquerade’ in Prague? You were running on three hours of sleep a night for a week. I thought you would fall asleep during filming and wouldn’t wake up for a couple of days.”

“I was younger then,” you shrugged it off. You eyed the script again, focusing on your notes. “ I don’t have the same energy.”

“It was three years ago.”

“Three years can be a long time.”

You could understand that better than anyone, considering that this year sometimes seemed like a decade to you. In a year, your whole life had changed. You were different, everything was different from last year. Three years could be a very long time, indeed. But also the blink of an eye.

One of the actors arrived and you both greeted him. Soon, he was swept away by the movement director.

“I think you need another break,” Will declared in all of his dramatic glory.

You tapped your long nails on your plastic cup, the action was strangely soothing. “I think I need another coffee.”

“You certainly need a break,” Will insisted. “And you certainly don’t need another coffee.”

He had noticed your restlessness, then. “We just came back from a break. And there is no time for another one. After we are done here, promotions for Six of Crows begin then there is the premiere and the tour and they are getting everything ready to begin filming for Season 6 of Paper Hearts. And Crooked Kingdom is next year and I am very behind on that.”

Will’s face did that thing he did whenever he was done with you, his features slacking like he was bored and a little irritated. “You can’t be behind on something that hasn’t even started yet. Be serious.”

“I am. Deadly.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Break. You need a break.”

The rest of the actors arrived then and the subject was dropped in favor of going over the details of the scene with them. They took their places and filming began. There was a place where the scene kept being snagged and you had to go over it four times to get it right and five more to perfect it.

By the end, you were running like you were being hunted to find John and drive to the company building. The meeting as you had expected was long and tiring. At least, it was a productive one. You discussed the script, the new additions, and the schedule. You shared a few worries and disagreements you had and you mostly managed to find the middle ground. Another meeting would be held in a week before filming would officially start in a few weeks.

It was past eleven when you opened the door of the Castle. No one was in the living room, which was to be expected.

“I’m back!” you shouted, even though no one would hear you if they were in the garden. The night was warm and your skin felt stifling. Sweat dotted your forehead and the change of temperature, when you walked inside the air-conditioned Castle, sent a shock through your system. Your legs had turned to stones and you struggled to take off your shoes.

All you wanted was to fall asleep. You opened the balcony door and shouted again that you were back and that you would be in your room. You closed it before you could hear any replies.

In your room, you had to force yourself to change into your pajamas instead of falling face-first onto your bed in your dirty clothes. You didn’t have the energy to take a shower like you usually did at the end of the day. Your appetite had also disappeared. You hadn’t eaten dinner but you weren’t hungry. You were taking off your makeup in the bathroom when there was a knock on your door.

For a moment, you debated not answering but you dismissed the thought instantly.

“Come in,” you called. “I’m in the bathroom.”

You heard the door open and close again. You dragged the cotton pad roughly across your face, you didn’t have the patience to be gentle and it left your skin red. Some days it was just too sensitive.

“Are you alright?” The care in Seokjin’s voice tugged at the tight knot in your chest, loosened it. You glanced at the door but he wasn’t there.

Most of the makeup was gone from your face and you looked like a mess. You threw the cotton pads in the bin and washed your face quickly to get rid of the mascara under your eyes and any stubborn residues of makeup.

Seokjin was standing by your vanity, waiting for you. It wasn’t often that he came to your room. You weren’t used to seeing him there but it felt right.

“For someone who has been running around for more than sixteen hours, I am peachy,” you tried to joke but the delivery was lacking. It was confirmed by Seokjin’s frown.

“That’s too much, even for you. That isn’t healthy.”

“It is what it is,” you said, trying not to sound defensive. “It isn’t something I haven’t done before. And tomorrow’s schedule is easier so it’s alright.”

That didn’t seem to do anything to ease his mind. “Because you did it before, it doesn’t mean you should keep doing that.”

You rubbed your temples, your headache was getting worse. “There are things that need to get done. I can’t just stop because I’m tired. I get calls all day and my inbox is full of emails I haven’t answered yet. I have a million things on my plate, I can’t ignore them.”

“I know,” Seokjin said, his tone softer. He came closer to you and took your hand in his. The touch was grounding. You hadn’t realized you were spiraling until your feet were planted on the earth again. “We know how important your work is and how much effort you have put in to be where we are. It’s admirable and it’s incredible that you’ve managed to do all this. But your health is important too. You can’t keep running with an empty tank. You need to rest too.”

You heaved a sigh and let your head fall forward to rest on his chest. Your nose wasn’t as sensitive as a hybrid’s but breathing in the familiar sweetness calmed you. He hugged you and drew you closer to him, his hand kneading the tense muscles of your shoulders and the back of your neck.

“We missed you,” he said almost in a whisper.

“You always miss me.”

Seokjin stayed quiet but you both knew. They always missed you because you were always gone.

“You should eat something before you fall asleep. Yoongi and I made gnocchi with prosciutto and parmesan and garlic bread with mozzarella. I can bring it here but I think it would be best if you ate in the kitchen. Everyone wants to see you but they don’t want to bother you.”

The simple act of going to the kitchen sounded like climbing a mountain. Your bed looked too attractive, only a meter away and very very soft. Your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep and yet…

“I’ll come to the kitchen,” you said. Having woken up at five, you hadn’t seen anyone before leaving. The thought of not seeing them at all today left a sour taste in your mouth. “But can we stay here? For a bit?”

Seokjin placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head. “Of course. For as long as you want.”

You lost track of time in his arms but no more than five minutes must have passed by the time you pulled back with a heavy heart. A temporary balm had been applied to the ailments of the day. You could hold yourself up for a few more minutes to eat a little, you had been doing it all day.

Your legs were as heavy as concrete walking to the kitchen. You had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, otherwise, you might just collapse. There was noise coming from the kitchen but your tired mind couldn’t register what they were saying.

You were surprised to see that everyone was there waiting for you, even Taehyung. Yoongi placed the plates in front of your seat and Jimin added the cutlery. Everyone else was sitting around the table in their usual stools.

Their greetings were quieter than usual and you guessed that they were conscious of how tired you were. You gave them the warmest smile you could master and patted Hoseok’s hair as you passed by to take your seat. The aroma of the food made your stomach growl, you hadn’t realized how hungry you had been before. Your appetite was back. Everything looked incredible as always and you couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Are you all just going to look at me while I eat?” you asked, picking up your fork.

The hybrids looked sheepish at your question.

“We just wanted to see you,” Jungkook said. “You left too early in the morning.”

You had to compose yourself to pierce a couple of gnocchi with your fork and not sigh out loud. Yoongi’s eyes were heavy on you, they were the ones you could detect with the most ease. You were the most aware of him.

“I had too much to do today. They have been bugging me from the studios for days. If I didn’t start early, I would have never finished. And I prefer an early morning to a late night. I tend to work better in the morning.”

You forced the fork to your mouth. You were ravenous but the conversation stalled your appetite.

“I would think that this was considered a late night,” Namjoon pointed out.

The taste, as expected, was heavenly. The creaminess of the parmesan sauce was tied perfectly with the savory crispy prosciutto. In your condition, you felt like it was wasted on you. As hungry as you were, you just wanted to put your fork down and go to sleep. But you couldn’t do that. You were better than that, you could eat something and then you could go to sleep. You could do that, you had done this before. Hadn’t you?

“This isn’t a late night,” you said after you swallowed the delicious bite. You had to eat another one. And another one. “Late nights can be anything from three a.m. to the next morning. This doesn’t happen often but I really had too many things to do. This is just for a few weeks because we’re moving very fast with the Raven Boys and filming for Season 6 of Paper Hearts will start soon. There are a lot of meetings and things they need my opinion on, it will actually be better once filming starts. They don’t need me as much then.”

You pushed the gnocchi around and you could tell they didn’t believe you without looking at them. It was true that your workload was heavier these days but you couldn’t exactly guarantee that it would get better soon. Filming for the Raven Cycle had been going exceptionally well and it was moving faster than you had originally planned. It would be wrapping up by the end of September or by early October at the latest. Wrapping up was a lot of work, the beginning and the end were the busiest parts.

The rest of autumn was going to be very difficult too. There was the premier as well, which added to your workload greatly. It would take up all of November and the work for it would start from October. Maybe December would be calmer. Maybe.

You ate the rest of your meal in relative silence. They didn’t talk more about you leaving early and coming back late although you knew they wanted to. Their voices were quiet as they talked about anything from witches in cartoons to color theory. You let their words play in the background like the sound from a TV as you tried to eat as much as you could.

The result was a half-finished plate of gnocchi and one less garlic bread with mozzarella. Your eyes were closing involuntarily by then, staying closed for longer periods each time. If you didn’t go to sleep now, you would fall face-first into the gnocchi.

You slid off your seat and balanced yourself on numb legs. “Thank you for this, it was delicious. But I really need to go to sleep now.”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin said, glancing at half of the food still on the plate. “You should rest.”

“At what time do you start work tomorrow?” Yoongi asked. He had been silent during your dinner and his voice rang louder than the rest to your ears.

It must have taken a few seconds to navigate the fog in your mind before you could answer. “Filming starts around nine, so I should be there by eight. Half past eight at most.”

“That’s still too early,” Hoseok said, frowning.

You waved their worries off. They had better things to worry about than the job you had been doing for half of your life. “It isn’t too early. I can sleep for a decent number of hours before I have to get ready. It’s alright, really. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams.”

With effort, you dragged your body to your bedroom. You didn’t bother turning on the lights and stumbled to your bed guided only by the moonlight. There wasn’t a point in closing the blinds when you would wake up around the time the sun was rising. The light of your phone was too bright in the darkness and it made your eyes sting as you set an alarm.

A few messages caught your attention but a knock stopped you before you could open them.

“Come in,” you called, setting your phone aside. The door opened and the light from the hallway slipped in, outlining the silhouettes of the two hybrids. “Is everything okay?”

They both nodded and Jimin took a few steps into the room. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Both of you?” you asked, half-suppressing a yawn. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook hadn’t slept in your room before and the only time you had shared a bed was in Virginia.

Jungkook’s bunny ears drooped. “I can go, I don’t mind. I just missed you.”

“Sorry, that isn’t how I meant it.” Your surroundings were a bit blurry, the minutes stretched but were also impossibly short. It felt a little like life was a dream when you were tired like this. “Come in, both of you. And close the door behind you. It is blinding me a bit.”

They hurried inside and did as you told them. You couldn’t see them well as they moved through the darkness. They surrounded you, lying on different sides. Jimin didn’t hesitate to draw closer, throwing an arm over your stomach. Jungkook was a little stiffer on your left like he didn’t know how to situate himself. You found his hand, intertwining your fingers, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

It felt right, lying between them. Like that was how it was meant to be. But maybe that was the exhaustion talking, the dream realm slipping into the waking world.

“I missed you too,” you whispered. “Now sleep. I have an alarm set for the morning.”

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

Summer bled seamlessly into autumn. The change wasn’t apparent in the Castle, autumn had only arrived in name. The heat was still there and would remain for some time. During the days, it still made sweat drip down your temples the few times you filmed outside the studios but the nights were comfortable and moon-bright.

You had a couple of hours free between takes and nothing to do so you got into your car (John had taken the day off to spend some time with Alice) and started the engine. “Nothing to do” was a relative term of course. There were many things you could be doing, countless extra little tasks that crowded your thoughts, but you disregarded all of them. You had been spending whole days away from home and you were beginning to feel guilty about it.

On your way back, you stopped by your favorite homemade gelato shop. In San Diego, you had gone for gelato the first day and the hybrids had loved it. You had made it a habit to get gelato at the beginning of each day during ComicCon, it was your little ritual. You had ordered gelato a couple of times to the Castle as well but with eight people, it didn’t last more than a day.

There were dozens of flavors behind the display case, all of them looking delectable. You got a wide variety, remembering the flavors they liked the most. You picked hazelnut, tiramisu, chocolate chip cookie, almond, caramel, coconut, cream and sour cherry, nutella, and vanilla and asked for 1 kilo of each to be delivered to your house. It was too hot and your house was too far to transport them in your car.

You didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes outside the gate before the delivery boy arrived. You got the bags full of gelato containers from him and sent him off with a hefty tip. The Castle was a long way from the heart of the city and anyone willing to make deliveries there deserved a nice tip.

Unlocking and opening the door was a struggle but you managed. You shouted you were back and fast-walked down the stairs, the plastic bags digging into your hands. On the second level, you were faced with Jungkook, who was also climbing the stairs to reach you. He looked as if he was ready to attack you with a hug before noticing the bags.

“A little help?” you asked, raising the bags a little higher. Your arms protested loudly.

Jungkook quickly took most of the bags from you and if you hadn’t been the one carrying them before, you would have believed they were light as a feather with the way he was holding them. “What are all these?” he asked, peeking into the bags. His eyes sparkled and his smile widened in realization when he spotted the containers. “Is that–?”

“Gelato,” you said, a little proud of yourself for thinking of making the stop on your way back.

Jungkook’s steps turned into little hops. “You are the best! How much did you get? Are these all different flavors?”

“You will see…”

Jungkook made a sound close to a petulant whine. “Come on,” he said, dragging the vowels. “What are they? Did you get hazelnut?”

“We’re almost there. You’ll see in a minute.” The garden was coming into view as you climbed down to the last level but Jungkook still turned back to pout at you. “Dramatic bunny,” you muttered lowly but not low enough for his enhanced hearing not to pick it up. You didn’t mind, his giggles were cute.

At the bottom of the stairs, Namjoon and Seokjin were waiting for you.

Seokjin squeezed your wrist in greeting before saying, “He is a very dramatic bunny.”

“Hey! You should be on my side!”

Seokjin raised his eyebrows. “And why is that?” And that set off a round of bickering as they walked to the table to set down the bags.

Despite your protests, Namjoon took the last bags from you. “You should accept a little help from time to time,” he said firmly. You knew that he meant it for more than this. You decided to ignore it for now, you would overthink this later.

“Everyone, gather around! I brought gelato!” you called.

In a few minutes, everyone was gathered around the table. Hoseok, upon seeing the many containers of gelato, had done a happy dance, kissed your cheek and ran upstairs with Seokjin to get bowls and spoons. Jimin had wrapped himself around your back and was licking his lips, which was highly distracting. You shouldn’t be thinking about this.

Taehyung was the quietest one, as he usually was. He was sitting next to Yoongi, looking at all the containers with parted lips.

“I got gelato for us,” you told him. “It is really good. I got a lot of flavors so you can try as many as you want.”

“Gelato,” Taehyung repeated softly, gazing at the containers spread over the table.

Hoseok and Seokjin arrived with eight bowls, too many spoons and three ice cream scoops—you didn’t even know you had that many—and set them down around the table. You busied yourself with opening all the containers. You already knew which flavors you wanted so you grabbed one of the scoops and served yourself three scoops of ice cream.

Jimin had hooked his chin over your shoulder and wasn’t making any move to serve himself. That was up to you then.

“Which flavor do you want?” you asked him, dipping the scoop into the cup of water.

He rubbed his cheek against your shoulder lazily. “Hmmm, I think I want to try a few before I decide.”

You decided to indulge him, you liked it when he got playful and joked with you. You preferred when he was confident and asked for what he wanted. It was beautiful to witness how much he had changed through the months. You dipped a spoon into the flavors in your bowl first and brought them to his mouth. He savored each spoonful, humming and licking his full lips. He was so close to you, if you turned completely your noses would touch. How did you always end up in these situations lately?

“I want that too,” Jungkook said, pouting and pointing at your spoon. He was sitting at the bench and he had his own bowl in front of him, filled with four scoops of gelato.

“You want almond?” you asked.

“No, I want to be fed too.”

“You really are a baby,” Seokjin said. “Is that what’s going to be happening now? Whatever one has the other wants too?”

Jungkook looked away, taking his spoon again disappointed. “No, it just looked nice. It felt nice to be cared for when we were at the lake. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just wanted to ask.”

At the lake, you had been feeding them strawberries dipped in chocolate and your mind had run too wild. You should stop thinking about that. “I want to, you are just a little far. I can’t really reach.”

Jimin was about to say something, probably offer a solution but before he could, Seokjin had picked up Jungkook and plopped him down in his lap.

“Here, I will feed you, you big baby. Is this alright?” he asked, ever caring.

Jungkook squirmed a little but seemed pleased, a light flush settling on his cheeks. “Yes, of course.” He was as tall as Seokjin but in his lap, he looked much smaller. He opened his mouth obediently when Seokjin brought the spoon to his lips.

Your eyes strayed to Taehyung, you were hyper-aware of him whenever you were in the same place. His eyes had that look that you couldn’t understand, it was there every time you interacted with the other hybrids lately. They were telling you that he was opening up more these days but to you, he remained a mystery.

In the end, Jimin ate most of your gelato and you scooped some chocolate chip cookie into your bowl because you knew how much he liked it. Hoseok and Namjoon closed the containers and carried them upstairs, they returned and went to sit by the pool. Yoongi finished quickly and lied down under the shade of the tree closest to them. Jungkook grew sleepy and turned to the side, laying his head on Seokjin’s shoulder. Jimin joined them, hugging Jungkook from the side.

Taehyung stayed at the bench like he wasn’t sure where he should go, his empty bowl in front of him.

“Did you like it?” you asked, gesturing to his bowl. Another reminder of your shortcomings, you didn’t even know how much he had progressed in English.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. The low timbre of his voice surprised you each time. You heard it so rarely that you didn’t get the chance to get used to it.

You should make an effort to talk to him, avoiding him would only make matters worse. But you couldn’t find anything to say. What exactly could you say to him, who had lived most of his life like a caged animal, who you had bought at an illegal auction?

Suddenly, you had the equivalent of a light bulb lighting up next to your head in a cartoon.

“Hobi told me you liked the painting of the pomegranate in the gallery,” you said then realized that pomegranate was probably a word he couldn’t understand and proceeded to explain the painting. “It has glass around it and a hand is holding it. Am I making sense?”

Seokjin looked at you amused but Taehyung nodded in understanding. “It is beautiful.”

“Right, it is,” you agreed. “The artist, the one who made it, is holding an exhibition in LA. We could go if you would like.”

You had bought the painting from her long before her fame had grown and spread. There was a magic to the way Eliana Velasco painted, everything came alive under her brush strokes. The painting of the pomegranate had enchanted you and given your history, you had to have it.

“Go?” he repeated, clearly confused.

“Yeah, to a place that has many of her paintings. You can see them there. Would you like that?” Talking to him, you were more nervous than at any of the award shows you had attended the past few years, more nervous than during any contract negotiations.

Taehyung’s eyes widened a fraction before he nodded. “Can I… see them?”

“Of course,” you said.

Jungkook stirred against Seokjin’s shoulder. “Are we going to an exhibition?”

“If you want to.”

“Are you going to be there too?” he asked and that was harder to answer. Your schedule was the busiest it had been in months and you were drowning in deadlines and responsibilities. You were saved from answering him by a notification on your phone. The numbers displaying the time showed that you were late to leave. You pocketed your phone and with quick goodbyes, you disappeared.

You were so stupid. You had offered to take Taehyung to an exhibition when work was wrapped around you like a noose. But you had panicked. Eliana had sent you an invitation for the opening night, promising there would be French champagne and hors d’ oeuvres. You had attended plenty of her exhibitions and had many conversations about art and life and their inter-connected philosophy while drinking champagne or wine and staring at paintings.

Although Taehyung’s situation was solved and Amelia had let you know some time ago that legally you were safe, going to the opening night didn’t sound like a good idea. There would be many journalists there who would love to write a piece about you and your sudden decision to adopt so many hybrids. They could go without you another day, that wouldn’t be too bad. Taehyung looked so hopeful and now that you had said it, you couldn’t take it back. You could text Eliana and ask her if she could meet you there one day so you could introduce her to them.

You should try and get some time off.

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It was like a curse, to not be able to sleep in the very few hours you could afford to. Your bed was empty and cold and you couldn’t get comfortable regardless of how much you twisted and turned. Your limbs were too long and awkward and nothing felt right. All the wild thoughts you couldn’t be bothered with during the day showed up one after the other to be examined from every angle and set aside to pick up the next one. It was a losing battle and yet you insisted on fighting it every time before giving in, getting up and popping a pill into your mouth.

You returned the bottle to the cabinet and closed it. After Seoul, for some time it had returned to your bedside table but after a couple of weeks had passed it felt like you were admitting defeat by keeping it there. The image in the mirror was a far cry from the celebrity you were supposed to be. The darkness under your eyes formed bruises, getting worse by the day. Your skin had grown pale and your hair was a mess, you hadn’t had enough strength to braid it before attempting to fall asleep.

You considered going back to bed but the pills could take up to an hour to work when your insomnia reached its peak and you were craving a snack. Something small and sweet sounded nice.

Once again, you had returned late and eaten dinner alone. Your appetite was lacking although the food was delicious. Sometimes, it got like that when you were too tired. You had promised yourself to limit early mornings and late nights but that had changed when you had texted Eliana about the exhibition. She had offered to accompany you to the exhibition on one of the days it was closed to the public and you were more than thankful to her but that also meant that you would have to take half the day off.

The TV was on in the living room, subtitles displayed at the bottom of the screen with no sound. Namjoon was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and watching with distracted eyes. Everyone else had departed to their rooms for the night. His ears twitched as you took a few more steps and he turned to look at you.

You waved your hand, trying to offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He sat up straighter. “Hi. Why are you still awake? Do you need something?”

“Just some water. Maybe a snack.”

“You were really tired when you went to bed. Did you not fall asleep?” he asked, frowning.

You shrugged. “I couldn’t. It’s one of those nights. If I eat something, maybe I will fall asleep easier. A full stomach and all that.” You didn’t mention the pill, it was awkward to do that. “Don’t let me disturb you. I’ll just grab something and go back to bed.”

Namjoon got up and in a few strides, he was standing in front of you. He caressed your cheek, searching for something in your eyes. You weren’t sure what he could see there. “I’ll join you. Let’s sit together for a bit. I haven’t seen you properly in a few days.”

“But you must have stayed back to watch that,” you said. A documentary was playing on the TV, something about Egyptian history.

“It doesn’t matter. I would rather spend my time with you. Unless you don’t want to, then I’ll go back to the couch and be very quiet.”

You slid your hand in his, the touch grounding you in a night that felt both like you were wide awake and caught in a blurry dream. “I would like some company. I’ve missed you too. I’m–”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. There is no need for that.”

He leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered for a few moments, warmth spreading inside you. You raised your head and captured his lips in a kiss. The worst part was that you couldn’t remember how long it had been since you had last shared a kiss. His lips were velvet as you remembered them. This was home. Running back and forth, you had forgotten what it felt like.

You pulled back and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

In the kitchen, Namjoon stood next to you as you rummaged through the cupboards for something that looked appetizing to you. The cupboards were full and yet nothing was calling to you until Namjoon remembered that Seokjin had made ice cream sandwiches with the gelato you had bought and various kinds of cookies. That sounded like heaven so you opened the freezer and chose two of them.

You leaned against the counter, shoulder to shoulder with Namjoon, while you devoured them. Gelato might not have been the best idea to put you to sleep but they tasted heavenly. The pill would start working sooner or later.

“Is it worse today?” he asked. He didn’t elaborate further, he didn’t have to.

The ice cream sandwiches were gone and you were left holding the plate. You licked your fingers and placed it in the sink. “I have a lot of things on my mind. I should be too tired to think but apparently, I’m never too tired for that.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Everything, more or less.” You turned to the side, facing him. “There’s too much to think about and not enough time. Never enough time,” you muttered the last sentence to yourself. If you had all the time in the world it would still not be enough, you would find a way to fill it. “I’ve been putting everything off. Everything I don’t want to deal with or I don’t know how to deal with. And the longer I put it off, the worse it gets.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, taking in what you said and pondering how to reply. It was beautiful, how his mind worked and how attentive he was. “If there is any way we can help you, anything I–we can do, we will. Whatever you want to do, we will support you. Sometimes, in our head, we can make things look bigger, more scary than they are. Do you want to talk about them? Maybe if you talk about what you have to do or what you’re worried about, it will be easier to work out the best way to approach them.”

That was something your therapist used to tell you, that while things festered in your head, they would only get more tangled and more daunting. She had suggested writing them down or talking to her about them. She was right, you knew she was right and that it helped and yet you hadn’t stopped to do that.

You took a deep breath, debating if it would be better to find a notebook and figure out your mess on paper instead of dragging Namjoon into it. But there was a part of you that itched to confide in him and give in to the way you felt safe when you were together.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you confessed.

You started slowly, with your usual worries about Taehyung, how he was adjusting and how little time you were spending with him and if that was for the best. It was the same old spiralling, you had poked and prodded at it so many times and Namjoon must have been bored of listening to the same rehashed concerns, yet he didn’t interrupt you. You unravelled steadily, once you started speaking, you couldn’t stop. There was the filming for the Raven Cycle, the final touches of Six of Crows, the premiere and the weeks of promotions and the anticipation for the reviews of the critics and the audiences. The book you hadn’t finished and the deadline you couldn’t meet.

You rubbed your hands over your face. It had been so long since most of those problems had surfaced and you were ashamed that you hadn’t faced them yet. “And we haven’t told anyone about us. We said we would and I know you’re waiting for me but I’m never here. And I don’t know how.”

Namjoon caught your hand and brought it to his lips. Lowering it, his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your skin. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. They will understand and they will be happy for us. You shouldn’t let this keep you awake, everything will be alright. They are our pack, this won’t change anything.”

“But…” The anxiety that persisted. “Yoongi. What if his reaction is… bad. You know what he said.”

“That was before.” He sounded sure but there was a tightness at his jaw. “It is different now. He is different, you can see it. He is softer around the edges, he even helps Jin in the kitchen. He’s settling in.”

“Because he doesn’t know,” you said. “You remember what he said, right? That night? That I adopted you so I could take my pick and now there is Jin and it’s just too much like that, can’t you see it?”

“It’s nothing like that. We both–” Namjoon stiffened, his gaze locking somewhere towards the entrance. “Yoongi?”

Your heart rate sped up, a knot forming in your chest. Yoongi walked in, his socked feet not making a sound. How much had he heard? The last minutes of the conversation replayed in your mind in a panicked mess. What had you said? How long had he been there, listening to you, before Namjoon noticed him? What conclusions would he reach?

Instinctively, you tried to get away from Namjoon but his hold on your hand kept you there.

The panther’s face didn’t give anything away. You couldn’t read him regardless of how much you studied him. You didn’t know his tells, if he had any. His expression was a carefully curated mask of apathy and you couldn’t see past it. Or you didn’t dare to try. Maybe you were too afraid of what you would find.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, voice missing some of its smoothness.

Namjoon held your hand tighter. “You are the only one who can sneak up on me.”

You swallowed down your anxiety and tried to think of him the way he was the past few months, when he helped you with rearranging your office, him playing the piano in the afternoons, your walk at the lake, the vague memory of him helping you up to your room when you were drunk in Virginia. But they were all pushed back by the memory of his snarl and his sharp teeth that night.

“How much did you hear?” you asked, forcing your voice to be steady. He was going to learn of it at some point and as scared as you were, you had to face this.

“Enough.” His tail curled behind him and stilled. “You are afraid of my reaction to something. Is that it?”

Your eyes locked with Namjoon’s and he nodded. This time you weren’t going to run. This time would be different. “Yes, there is something we wanted to tell you. Something we wanted to tell everyone. I didn’t know how to tell you, that’s all.”

“You can tell me now,” he said and it sounded almost like a dare. You weren’t sure if you were walking into a trap.

Namjoon spoke up before you could. “You remember that the two of us are… We are together, as humans would say, romantically.” Yoongi nodded. You couldn’t imagine how he could forget. “That extends to Jin now. We love him and he loves us.” It was almost like he was challenging him to say anything but Yoongi was quiet.

“We didn’t know how to tell everyone. And you…” You didn’t know how to finish.

He scoffed. “I was an asshole.” One side of his lips was twisted up but something about it hurt. “You didn’t want to tell me because I was an asshole when I found out about you two. Worse than an asshole.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders were slumped as if in defeat. For a moment, you wished to reassure him but what he was saying was the truth. “I understand. I’m not– I’m happy for you. And I’m sorry.”

He turned to leave but, through your confusion, you knew you didn’t want him to go.

“Wait,” you called. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Let’s talk. We need to talk.”

Yoongi looked at you over his shoulder. This time, you studied him without your heavy-duty lenses, without the fear of discovery. Like the expression of an actor, you picked apart the tiniest details to paint a picture. When your own barriers were gone, it was easier to see.

“What is there to talk about?” he asked.

“A lot. Things we should have talked about sooner.” Communication was a golden rule in your handbook and you used to be good at it, you tried to be good at it. The misunderstanding trope was overused and useless when the issue could be resolved with a simple conversation.

It was about time you stopped walking on eggshells.

“We never truly talked about it,” you started. “And I didn’t really want to because things were going so well. They are going well. But you are my family now.” His lips parted, only slightly but you caught it. “I can’t know how all of you see it, if it’s the same for you, but that’s the way I feel. And I want to be honest with you. I still think about what you said in the garden and sometimes it affects me more than I would like. However, I would like to put it behind us but I want to know what you think.”

His eyes were sharp but you weren’t fooled this time. “Can we? Can we really put it behind us?”

Namjoon was silent next to you, he was letting you handle it.

“I think we are already beginning to.” You took a deep breath in preparation. There was a question that could make or break this peace between you and you were both dreading and dying to ask. “Do you think that I’m taking advantage of them because I love them romantically?”

His eyes widened. “No,” he denied sharply. “No, of course I don’t.”

It was like a knot unravelling in your heart. Although there was a part of you that had known, the relief was still there. “Then we can move past it. We can try again. We are already trying again.”

“How?” Yoongi asked and he sounded smaller, much smaller than you were used to.

The pills were beginning to act, it was a light drowsiness at first. You had to do this quickly before you fell asleep and crumbled down on the floor.

“The same way we are doing now. By doing our best.”

“I am trying” His hands clenched into fists and loosened again. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. Not anymore. As long as I know that we are fine.” Your eyes were growing heavier and the fog was slipping in. “I think we should go to bed now,” you said. It was getting more and more difficult to open your eyes.

You must have stumbled or something because you heard Yoongi ask, “Are you alright?” at the same time as Namjoon’s “Do you want help?”

You waved them both off. “I’m fine. It’s the pills.” It was easier to admit when you were almost asleep. One moment your feet were on the floor and the next you were up in the air. “Joon?”

“I’m taking you to your room. It’s time for sleep.” One of his arms was under your knees and the other was holding you close to his body.

“Namjoon, I can walk,” you protested weakly. Namjoon shushed you and you let it go. You were so incredibly sleepy and you were safe there. You relaxed in his arms and finally closed your eyes.

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Most of the flowers were drooping in the garden of the Castle. Namjoon and Jimin were attempting to keep them alive for as long as possible before fall swept them away. They cut off the dead leaves, watered the plants and applied the appropriate fertilisers. There were also varieties that lasted all year and the gardener had taught them how to take care of them too.

“These won’t last much longer,” Jimin said, running his fingers gently over the petals of a slowly wilting flower.

“They will bloom again in spring,” Namjoon reassured him. “Each season has its beauty and these belong to spring and summer. Autumn has its own colors too but they are different.”

Jimin pulled his hand back and grabbed the watering can. “I know, but I will miss them.”

Namjoon patted his head and Jimin preened under his touch, chasing his hand. He was too cute sometimes and Namjoon adored him. “It’s okay to miss it but you can also be happy about the new things that are coming. Miss Roberts said she will bring sunflowers and hydrangeas to plant next week, it will add some color. When something ends, something else begins.”

Jimin giggled, watering the flowers although they would be dead next week. “Nora has told you many times to call her by her name.”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his head. “I forgot. I’m trying.”

Yoongi came out of the house, a book in his hand. He had been visiting the library more lately. Namjoon had been wondering where he had been. The rest of the pack had holed up in the cinema room to watch a comedy and, like the two of them, Yoongi had opted out but they hadn’t seen him since.

“Yoongi!” Jimin called, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the watering can. “Come here. Sit with us, we are almost done.”

Yoongi paused, glancing at the table and benches on the other side of the garden.

“Come on,” Namjoon called for him as well. That was enough to sway Yoongi’s decision, who made his way to them.

Jimin bounced up to him, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the flower bushes they were tending to. Yoongi grumbled about the rough treatment but Namjoon wasn’t fooled, the upturn of his lips was small but unmistakable.

Jimin explained to him what they had been doing so far and Yoongi listened to him attentively.

“They are beautiful. You have been doing a really good job. Both of you,” he said, his eyes darting to Namjoon.

He was tense, it wasn’t obvious but Namjoon could pick it up. He gave him a smile, hoping he would relax. Yoongi confused him but he thought he could understand him a little better now. “Thank you. What are you reading?”

“Oh, this?” Yoongi raised the book a little and shrugged. “I saw it and I thought it was interesting.”

“I haven’t seen that before,” Namjoon said.

The cover was painted in shades of yellow and orange, framing two pyramids. Without saying anything, Yoongi handed him the book. It was called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho and it was a relatively short book. He turned it around to look at the synopsis and Jimin peeked at it over his shoulder. Namjoon wondered if you had read it or if it had been sitting there unread on your shelves for years. There were so many books in your library and you had admitted that you hadn’t read most of them, but you had also told them that once upon a time you used to read a hundred books a year.

“It does sound interesting,” Namjoon commented, passing back the book. “You should tell me if it is any good when you finish it.”

Yoongi looked down at the book’s cover. “I will.”

Jimin declared that they were done with gardening for the day and grabbed both of their hands, pulling them to the shade underneath one of the trees. They sat down and he situated himself with his head in Namjoon’s lap and his legs in Yoongi’s. Yoongi cracked open his book and began to read while Jimin talked about flowers.

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“And… CUT!” you called. It was repeated again by Will and the actors relaxed, the expressions of their characters wiped clean. “That will be it for today. Thank you everyone!”

The crew buzzed as the cameras and the sound systems were turned off. People were talking to their earpieces and others were giving pats on the back to each other for another successful day on set. Crew members passed by and offered their congratulations to you.

“What are you rushing for?” Will asked.

You continued throwing everything carelessly into your backpack. “I’m visiting the gallery today, remember?”

“Right, that’s today,” he said, snapping his fingers. Some things stuck with you in entertainment. For example, the overexaggerated gestures. “I thought you had a company meeting dressed like this. A very important one.”

In the morning, you had put more thought into your outfit compared to a simple filming day. You were wearing tan trousers and a form-fitting black top embellished by a crossover belt that wrapped around the body and was tied together with a golden Medusa head emblem. The heels, the golden earrings, bracelets, and rings confirmed that filming wasn’t the only thing on your schedule.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder (you would switch it later with a black Dior bag you had in your car). “No meetings for me today. I really have to go. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Have a good time, boss!”

You greeted any familiar faces on your way to your car and sent a quick message to Namjoon that you would be picking them up soon. The 8-seater car was an impulse purchase at a time when you had a larger friend group. You hadn’t used it much, only for a couple of short trips to private beaches.

You checked your appearance in the visor mirror and reapplied some powder and lipstick. You looked good enough, there wasn’t much more you could do.

The hybrids were waiting by the fountain. They had dressed nicely for the occasion, wearing some of the more formal outfits you had bought for them. You could feel the excitement in the air as they climbed into the car. It had been a long time since you had gone to the city like this. Jimin was quick to slide into the passenger seat, followed by a little happy dance at his success.

The exhibition was taking place in Central Los Angeles, housed in a tall and wide building that appeared to be made up of several cubes that jutted out of the main structure. Jungkook and Hoseok had their phones out, taking photos of the strange building. Distantly, you remembered coming here before but you couldn’t place when or why.

Eliana was waiting for you inside wearing a simple flowing blue dress and a large smile. You greeted each other with a hug and proceeded to introduce the boys to her. She shook their hands enthusiastically and in a few seconds she had already engaged them in a conversation about art. Usually, she talked quickly like she was rushing to get everything out before she forgot but she was talking slowly now, using simpler words and waiting for Hoseok to translate whenever he deemed he should.

She guided you through the gallery, floating ahead of you. She gave explanations of some of her works while she let others speak for themselves. Taehyung’s eyes were sparkling while she talked, in a way you had never seen before. His smile stayed on during your whole visit, big and boxy, and you finally felt like you were doing something right.

The other hybrids seemed to be enjoying themselves as well. Namjoon was asking plenty of questions about the meaning behind the paintings and her inspiration and Jungkook was very interested in the more technical aspect of her work. She readily answered all of their questions and when you pointed out that Jungkook spent a lot of his time painting, she encouraged him to show her some of his work. Although he was shy, hiding behind his floppy ears at first, Eliana managed to convince him to show her a few of the paintings he had on his phone. She was stunned when you told her he had only been painting for a few months and Jungkook grew even shier when she showered him in compliments.

At the end of the tour, she let you wander the gallery by yourselves for some time and then suggested going to the gallery’s gardens to hang out. The gardens were of considerable size, about as large as the inside of the gallery. Neatly trimmed flower bushes lined the pathways and plenty of modern sculptures decorated the space. A large fountain stood proudly in the middle and there was an artfully made gazebo raised on a platform at a far corner, overlooking the gardens.

You offered to go get some coffee and some baked goods from a nearby bakery/coffee shop you had found on the internet. Eliana protested at first but she gave in quickly at the promise of an iced Spanish latte and muffins. Namjoon volunteered to accompany you, although what surprised you was Yoongi offering to come along.

“You need more than two people to carry everything,” was the only explanation you got. You couldn’t deny that he was right.

He hadn’t been acting any different towards you since you had let him know about the nature of your relationship with Seokjin, so you acted the same way you always did too. His quiet acceptance was more than enough for you and it was a great weight off your shoulders.

You were talking about the exhibition, not surprised that Yoongi had been paying close attention to the paintings as he recalled his favorites, when a call of your name surprised you. The voice was familiar and, for a few seconds, you couldn’t place it. Until you could. And the peace froze over.

You turned around to find Jacob waving at you in the quiet street. His hair was cut much shorter than the last time you had seen him and his white loose pants and half-unbuttoned shirt made him look like he had just stepped off a yacht party. Maybe he had. His thousand-watt smile, reminiscent of a politician, was fixed firmly on his face.

“Hey, I knew it was you,” he said when he caught up with you, like he had won a prize. He pulled you into a quick hug and you didn’t know what to do with your hands until he let you go. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”

You wiped invisible dust from your trousers. “Yeah, I’ve been very busy.”

“You were never one for rest, right? The woman always running, always working, never has time for anything else,” he joked and it shouldn’t bother you the way it did. He gestured to Yoongi and Namjoon, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Namjoon looked politely curious and Yoongi downright uninterested.

“Right,” you said. “This is Yoongi and Namjoon. And this is Jacob.”

Their eyes sharpened the moment you uttered the name.

“I’m just Jacob now?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “After three years? Not even a friend?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t like we’ve spoken since last year.”

Initially after your breakup, you used to imagine how your next meeting would go and how the two of you would act around each other. Three years was a long time to share your life with someone to then go back to being strangers. You hadn’t entertained the idea much since then, you had found yourself thinking about him less and less. Still, whenever you thought about meeting him, you hadn’t anticipated the bitterness that grazed your insides.

Jacob chuckled awkwardly. “Well, you said you were busy. I have been busy as well, I’m working with a few very big names, you know. I got my hands on some of the best songs of the year.”

“I’m sure they’re great.”

“Haven’t you listened to any of them? You must have heard a few of them. They were everywhere.” Jacob was talented enough and well-connected and he sure liked to brag about it. “I asked Zayn and he said you were doing well, working of course. And you got yourself some company too.”

You clenched your jaw to bite back the harshness burning on the tip of your tongue. You hated the way he said it and the way it reminded you of your mother.

“It was a bit of a surprise, I’ll admit. I don’t remember you ever talking about adopting, you didn’t seem a big fan of the idea. No offense of course,” he directed the last part to Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Things change,” you said dismissively. “We have to go. There are people waiting for us.”

Jacob’s smile didn’t falter but his eyes narrowed a fraction for only a second. He may only be part of your past but you could still read him well. Was it the same for him? Had he ever been able to read you in the first place?

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.”

You turned around and started walking, Namjoon and Yoongi following you. Last year you loved him enough to move in with him and this year you couldn’t stand to be in his presence. You thought you would feel nothing when you’d see him again but the truth was that everything about him irritated you. His poised smile, his bragging, his nonchalance.

Why was he able to get under your skin like this? You were over him, you didn’t want anything to do with him. But you were supposed to be civil, uninterested like the heroines who didn’t raise more than an eyebrow in the direction of their exes. It irked you and the way he looked at Namjoon and Yoongi irked you more. You had defended him to everyone, he wasn’t a bad guy, he didn’t treat you badly but as time passed you were starting to realize some things you couldn’t see clearly before.

Yoongi was the first one to speak up when you had almost reached the coffee shop, “What an asshole.”

“He isn’t–” You stopped yourself and laughed. “You know what? He is, a little bit.”

“A little bit?” he repeated, doubtfully.

“I don’t want to judge but…” The way Namjoon paused told you everything you needed to know. “I had to try very hard to stop myself from growling at him.”

Yoongi smirked. “Down, wolf.” Namjoon ignored him.

“Thank you for not doing that, that wouldn’t have ended well. Please, don’t growl at people.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that.”

Well, you couldn’t say that you minded that much. You could admit to yourself that Namjoon growling was kind of hot. And if the situation called for it…

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you,” Namjoon said. “It was weird. There was something about it that was wrong, almost demeaning.”

“He can be like that sometimes. Like he is above almost everyone else, like some things are beneath him. He would make those stupid comments and I would always try to ignore them,” He was always supportive of your career and proud of your success but he had never shown interest in any of your other hobbies and likes. Reading was boring, paintings were overrated and overpriced, drinking tea was pretentious. “I never thought I would be one of those shit-talking their exes unless they did something really bad.”

“I support this shit-talking,” Namjoon said.

“I do too,” Yoongi agreed.

It made a strangely pleasant feeling run up your spine. “We’re here,” you said, instead of continuing the conversation. According to Google Maps, you had arrived at the coffee shop.

As you walked inside, you might have heard Yoongi saying lowly to Namjoon, “I kind of wanted to punch him.”

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You were sitting on the chair in front of your vanity, braiding your hair and stuck thinking of the same scene. Before going to his room for the night, Taehyung had approached you and thanked you for taking him to the exhibition. His expression was sincere and you finally felt like you were moving in the right direction.

When there was a knock at your door, you already knew who it was before you called for them to come in.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” Jimin asked, Jungkook draped over his back.

“When have I ever told you no?” you asked, finishing your braid and securing it in place with a silky scrunchy. “Go on.”

They both hopped on the bed, bouncing a little and sharing delightful smiles. You watched them through the mirror as they rolled around, holding each other.

Jimin looked up from where he was tangled with Jungkook, holding your gaze through his reflection. “Are you coming?”

“I am, I am,” you said, putting your brush back in the drawer.

You joined them on the bed, their hands quickly reaching for you and situating you between them like the last time. Jimin purred in contentment, rubbing his face in your collarbones. Jungkook held onto your arm and you could feel his breath caressing your neck with how close he was lying.

An unwanted echo of what Jacob had said entered your mind. Always working, never having time for anything else or anyone else, even the ones most important to you. You were gone most of the days and it made sense that they wanted to be close to you at least at night.

“Did you have fun today?” you asked them to distract yourself.

“I loved it! Eliana was so nice and her paintings were incredible,” Jimin said. “I took so many photos, my phone must be full of them.”

Jungkook nuzzled up closer to you. “I took many photos too. Can we print the one we took of us all together? I want to put it in our room.”

“Yes, please,” Jimin added cutely.

“Of course. You should print a couple more too, if you want, and choose some pretty frames for them. There is a lot of free space in your room.”

They cheered a little. You lied there in comfortable silence but you could detect a nervous energy in the air. It was in the way Jimin was fidgeting with the hem of your silk night shirt and how tightly Jungkook was gripping your arm. You waited until they were ready.

“We actually… we have something to tell you,” Jimin said.

“Anything you want, kitten,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. You could see how the use of the nickname affected him, squirming a little as his smile grew sweeter. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I just–” He looked at Jungkook, who gave him an encouraging nod. “I kissed him, we kissed. And… it makes me very happy.”

Jungkook caught Jimin’s hand that was pulling at your shirt and intertwined their fingers, laying their joint hands on your stomach. “He makes me very happy too,” he said in a small voice.

The new knowledge was like a puzzle piece sliding into place. It felt natural to you that their relationship would progress like that. The way they looked at each other, the way they touched each other, was evidence of a deeply intimate connection. If the image your mind conjured of them kissing lit a spark in your chest, you hid it even from yourself.

“Thank you for telling me. If it makes you happy, then I am happy too. All I want for you is to be happy and know how loved you are. Come here.” You pulled them closer and placed lingering kisses on their foreheads. “I will always support you. Always.” You took a decision then. You couldn’t put it off any longer. “I have something to tell you too. Jimin already knows but Jungkook, I would like for you to know too. I don’t know how to say this exactly and I’m sorry we’ve kept this from you but I, Namjoon and Jin have been romantically involved. All of us. We have been kissing too.”

“Oh.” Jungkook paused. “That makes sense.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that, Jimin joining you. “I mean you’re very close and it just makes sense. We’re pack and I think that most packs are a little in love with each other, in one way or another,” he said. His cheeks felt hot against your shoulder.

In one way or another. He was right, it was such a special bond and you could imagine that for hybrids who felt the sense of pack deeper, the lines were easily blurred. A door opened in your mind but you closed it again forcefully.

Jimin fit his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you. I love you so much, all of you. Our pack. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you. I don’t know if I deserve this.” His voice was wet.

“You do,” you stated. “You deserve everything and more. And we love you so much. So much.”

Jungkook squeezed his hand. “We love you, Jiminie. Our pack wouldn’t be complete without you. We need you to be whole. We need everyone.”

Their hands remained linked over your abdomen as you fell asleep.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

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

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treysimp · 2 years

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I don't know how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch? (Explicit Remix)

Side: Riddle Rosehearts/AFAB!Reader (Reader has a vagina)

Riddle/AMAB!Reader

As per our vote (thank you again for voting!) Riddle is the next spicy couch series conclusion. According to said vote, next in line is Azul. Do you all agree?

This is a partial continuation of the work “Do You Want to Make Out on My Couch (Part 6)”. Said fic is also included below if you want to re-read the beginning or this is your first time seeing this work.

Reader not described other than their junk, and pronouns are not used for them.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, M/F sexual relations, handjobs, PIV sex, ask to tag for more.

Want more TWST? Here's my masterlist!

To skip straight to the action, scroll to the next picture of Riddle, thanks!

“Really!” Riddle sputters, his brows knit in irritation “you should…. you really…” he trails off, his eyes frantically darting around your face as if a puzzle piece would magically fall into place if he just had the final hint.

“…You should ask in a more romantic way than that.” He finally finished, fingers drifting to your tie to straighten the lopsided knot.

Your eyebrows involuntarily raised to the sky.

“Is that a no, house warden?” You ask. You wanted to start hysterically laughing, oh my God how could he possibly be so cute?

Waiting for his response, you placed your hands on top of his to still the fingers that had been fussing over your tie.

You were going to get him to answer your question in a forthright manner if it killed you.

“It’s not-not a no!” Riddle sputtered, pretending to wipe his mouth with his sleeve to hide away his increasingly flustered face. You noted that he had kept his other hand in your grasp though, feeling him shake gently beneath you.

“Next time I expect flowers! Or chocolate!” He finally shouted, pulling both of his hands away to cross them over his chest haughtily. You couldn’t hide the grin splitting your face.

“Oh? You’re already planning on next time?” You said, smoothing your hand over his ruby hair.

Riddle seemed to finally register his slip of the tongue as his face lit as scarlet as the rest of him.

“No!” Riddle practically screamed. You were glad Grim wasn’t here tonight, as he definitely would have woken up upon hearing this exchange.

You raised an eyebrow, “No?”

Riddle’s gaze was fixed on the floor, face knit in irritation.

“Only if you play your cards right.” He finished, turning his head away with a huff.

You couldn’t stop the giggling that bubbled from your chest, God he was the cutest. How did he do it?

Not being able to help yourself, you wound your arms around his body, pulling him close to you as you buried your head in his neck.

Unsurprisingly he smelled great, like sweets and roses and some other sort of soft musk that was no doubt from some sort of expensive atelier. It was so charming the things he did to take care of himself for the sake of appearances.

You idly wondered if there was a rule about smelling good in Heartslabyul. There probably was, but you decided that asking would only mortify Riddle further, and you wanted to get him to do more than talk to you tonight.

Riddle was stiff as a board, arms hovering around you awkwardly for a moment until he finally relaxed, pulling you snugly into his arms.

“Do you really want to kiss me?” You could barely hear Riddle mumble, his voice muffled by your hair as he nuzzled it into your neck to mirror the way you had been holding him.

You pulled away slowly and held him by the shoulders, eyes boring into his shy grey gaze. You took a moment to take in the loveliness of his face for just a moment, relishing in the closeness you had never been afforded before now. The red eyeliner around his lashes, the rosy sheen of his heart-shaped mouth, and a tiny mole you had never noticed on top of his eyelid. So lovely.

“Yes. I do.” You said softly.

If you could believe it, Riddle got even redder. He cleared his throat and seemed to make an internal decision, twining his hands behind your neck as he pushed himself forward to meet your lips.

His lips were stiff but very, very soft. You pressed gently against him, massaging your mouth against his in hopes of loosening him up. It seemed to work, as you heard the smallest of moans as Riddle tried to mirror your movements, lightly sucking on your lower lip. It was shy, but also heartbreakingly genuine and careful.

You both separated slowly, you wished you could take a picture of the expression on his face.

Gorgeous eyes half open, glossy lips slightly swollen from the contact, he pulled the bottom of said lips into his mouth to chew on it lightly as he snapped his gaze to the side. How was he even real? His beauty shines like a fairy tale prince, and yet this gorgeous boy thought himself a villain. How ironic.

“Again.” He whispered, pushing his face back towards you with more aggressive energy, seemingly having gained confidence now that the spell of your first kiss was broken.

His kisses sped up and gained in ferocity, each time you separated for breath being punctuated with another ‘again’. His affection grew more demanding, his chest grew tighter and each breath became more labored.

“Let me inside.” Riddle finally demanded, his hands curled into the lapels of your jacket. “I want to come inside.”

You swallowed audibly and nodded, pushing the door open while Riddle pulled you inside of Ramshackle.

Now that the dam of tension had broken, Riddle was adorably needy.

He ushered you to the couch, pushing you down and continuing to pepper kisses on your face as he whispered little compliments and appreciations to you, almost inaudible between the soft smacks.

Pulling his face away from yours for a moment, you stroked his cheek with your thumb, taking in the soft flush of his face and the way that his wide grey eyes scanned your face frantically for an explanation as to why you stopped him.

“What is it?” He questioned, putting one hand over yours as he worried over his lip anxiously.

You shook your head and stifled a laugh. Where did all that confidence go?

“You’re just beautiful, is all. I wanted to appreciate it.” You teased, happy to see how much your every move affected him.

It was charming to see the faces he made when he was overthinking, though you would prefer that he relaxed a bit more sometimes.

Riddle inhaled through his nose loudly and steeled himself. A strange reaction to a compliment, you thought.

Riddle grabbed you by the lapels and shook you lightly. Face pinched in a clearly frustrated frown.

“H-how can you-! How can you say stuff like that so easily! It’s infuriating!” He huffed, then sighed, then buried his head into the crook of your neck.

His next words were quieted even further by your skin.

“How can you say something so romantic? So… like a fairy tale…” He murmured. “I’ve been in love with you all this time and you just… come out and say this? How am I supposed to act?”

Riddle was lost, trapped between happiness and panic. He had convinced himself that he didn’t need affection, he just needed order.

Much to his discomfort, his thoughts felt even more chaotic than ever when faced with one of his most secret desires coming true. He couldn’t decide if the tears threatening to spill from his eyes were ones of happiness or sorrow.

“Riddle…” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his shaking frame. “Do you really want this? It’s okay if you don’t.”

Riddle bolted up to attention and shook his head violently.

“No! Absolutely not! I-I want you! Desperately!” His proclamation was a bit over the top, but it made you smile.

Everything about him was just a little over the top after all, why would love be any different? It was what drew you to him.

“Okay then… what do you want to do?”

Riddle hesitated, clearly puzzled over this question. What did he want?

You sat in the comfortable silence for a moment, but it seemed that he was pretty deep in his head. You decided to offer your own option instead.

“Riddle, I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at his face.

Riddle nodded stiffly and slowly crawled backwards as you rose to meet him. Eyes fixed on your lips while he tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothing. He was clearly doing this out of habit, considering the fact that his clothes being out of place was your fault anyway.

You approached him carefully, sliding your fingers under the collar of his shirt as you coaxed each closure undone, holding your breath as you got a peek at each additional inch of his perfect doll-like complexion.

Riddle was visibly shivering, lightly gasping and leaning into your touch each time that cold fingers happened to make fleeting contact with his bare skin. Finally unbuttoning enough to push the shirt off his shoulders, his torso revealed bare.

You started slowly, giving him unhurried and smooth kisses on his lips as you gently massaged his body with your hands.

He was so unbelievably soft, but you could feel the slim muscles that lay under his skin as well, clearly having benefited from his riding practice.

You took joy in watching the goosebumps form on his skin as you slowly trailed your mouth down his body, fluttering butterfly kisses punctuated by each little whimper and gasp that spilled out of his mouth.

Riddle had clamped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, and while you wanted to hear his sounds better, you let him have that one piece of comfort.

It was cute, and unsurprisingly as someone who liked Riddle this much, you were easily swayed by cute things.

Finally trailing your kisses to his abdomen, you unbuckled his belt and started to make quick work of his pants, silently proud in how you could tell how aroused he was by the tightness of the fit.

After getting his zipper down, you placed your fingers on the waistband of his underwear, patiently waiting to see if he would let you so forward or ask you to stop. You were willing to do whatever he asked of you.

“Please…” He whined, a strand of ruby hair falling into his face and sticking to his cheek. You reached up and tucked the offending hair behind his ear.

“Anything for you.” You said, pulling his pants down teasingly slow.

Finally springing out of the restriction of his underwear, Riddle let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

You were surprised, quite frankly.

He wasn’t hung, per se, but what he did have far exceeded what you would proportionally expect of his small and soft body. He was pale and smooth, petal pink at the tip, with a generous curve to the sky. You pushed back the thought of where that curve might be able to hit for later, you were taking care of him right now, after all.

You gingerly ran your fingertips over the softness of his skin, keeping your eyes locked on Riddle’s face to see every change in expression and twitch that hinted at his quickly crumbling composure. He was harshly biting his lip, and you could see that his ever-present flush of red had crawled down from his face to his chest.

You started stroking him gently, not too fast, just ghosting touches along him. You worried that too much too fast would overwhelm him, and you wanted Riddle to enjoy this for as long as possible.

Gripping him loosely, you started at a slow tempo, watching the way his thighs would twitch when you ran your thumb softly over the bulb of his head.

You had internally compared him to a doll, but perhaps he was actually an angel.

Watching the way that Riddle’s back arched off of the couch in yearning as you began varying the pace of your pumps, you certainly felt like you were having a religious experience.

The way his soft grey eyes rolled back in his head, the way his arms and body tensed and relaxed with each stroke, it was mesmerizing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

You heard Riddle softly call your name, so you shifted your focus back to his face. Nibbling along his neck as your pace turned strong and slow, you started milking him in a way that made his hips harshly buck into your hand.

“Yes, Riddle?” You cooed between barely-there kisses. “How can I help you?”

Riddle looked up at you with glassy lust-heavy eyes.

“I’wanna…” He gasped, urging his length into your hand at a particularly harsh stroke, “I wanna make you feel good too.”

His words were slightly slurred, and he looked almost drunk on the feeling of your touch on him, his gaze wandering from your hand to your face and back again.

“Oh?” You tease, spitting onto your hand and adding the moisture to the steady build-up of pre-cum that Riddle had been supplying you with.

Your effort was met by another heady moan and then a hand harshly catching your wrist, causing you to stop your motions in surprise.

“Let me fuck you… please?” Riddle asked between pants, the hand that had grabbed yours clearly shaking.

You swallowed audibly with a gulp.

Well.. you always were a sucker for cute things.

He made quicker work of your clothes than you had his, perhaps owing to all of the beautiful yet complicated outfits that we wore regularly.

Riddle's face was knit into a frown of concentration. The process of him taking your clothes off was a little less than sexy, but his innocently-serious charm made up for it.

Upon spying the skin of your chest, he froze. Staring at the pertness of your nipples in the cold air and the softness of your skin, he couldn't resist reaching forward to cup your chest softly, massaging the area with tender care.

“Ah.. that feels good Riddle.” You say in encouragement.

If he really wanted to make you feel good, you were going to make an effort to tell him when he got it right. You moved your hands over his to knead your chest a bit more aggressively and to lightly pinch at your nipples.

Riddle froze for a moment again at your demonstration, but quickly got the hang of the motions, causing your breath to come out in shaky puffs.

Riddle had made his way to your bottoms, undoing your buttons and sliding them down from your waist. He observed the small wet spot that had been forming on your underwear with pride, knowing that he was the one making this mess of you made his heart swell.

He hooked his fingers under the garment and pulled, revealing you wholly bare to him. His breath caught in his throat at the view.

“...Like an angel.” He murmured reverently, pulling you to him to passionately kiss you once more.

How ironic for him to say that, you thought.

The hard heat of Riddle's length had begun grinding against your thigh, his moans matching the tempo of his length rutting into you. Hands returned to messily groping at your chest, open mouthed kisses spread across your face, neck and chest.

Sitting back on his feet to catch his breath and the rapid beating of his heart, Riddle grabbed his length in his hand and stroked it softly, staring directly into your eyes.

“Can I feel you?” He asked, looking at you through his thick lashes. You nodded and opened your arms to invite him to you. You wanted to feel him more than anything.

Riddle started slow, rubbing his tip up and down your slit to gather some of the moisture that you had been so kindly supplying for him.

Remembering what you had done a few moments prior, Riddle spit on his hand and ran it through your lips and across his length, letting out a slight gasp at how good the slick felt on his burning skin.

Feeling as prepared as he was ever going to be, Riddle began pressing himself inside you slowly, pumping his hips slightly to allow him easier entry.

Your breathing was heavy as you were using all of your self-restraint to not claw the shit out of Riddle’s back.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, gentle thrusting and gasped praises, Riddle bottomed out with a loud groan.

Hazarding a glance at your face, he was amazed by the bottom lip that was plumped from the friction of his kisses, eyes half-lidded in need and his cock completely buried in your body.

He had to move. Right now.

Riddle knew that he had to start slow and gentle. While he would never admit to reading a smutty romance novel in his life, he certainly had tried to absorb all he could from the ones he did get his hands on.

Riddle allowed himself to pick up a little bit of speed, electing to move from slow and shallow thrusts to deep and grinding ones instead, both of you groaning when he kept pushing just past the point of comfort.

Your chest was rising and falling to the beat of his hips meeting your own, and he found himself varying this timing to see if he could make you move in different ways, delighting in how you might spring forward or arch your back depending on where and when he was hitting inside of you.

“Riddle, faster…” You gasped, knitting one of his hands between your fingers in an intimate hold. Riddle nodded and began doing as you asked, slamming himself in and out of you, pistoning himself so hard that you could feel his balls slap against you with each thrust.

Your sounds were unlike anything that Riddle had ever heard before, and he wondered if something as heavenly as this could be considered addicting.

One more thing that he had recalled from a particularly steamy bodice-ripper was that there was a button above the lips that was supposed to feel even better than just his thrusts.

Taking the hand that you weren’t holding off the back of the couch, Riddle placed two fingers on the top of your lower-lips, drawing messy circles with his fingers.

You held back a giggle (because after all, you were actually impressed) as you guided Riddle’s fingers to your clit and helped him swirl his fingers. The friction created a warm tingle in your toes, and you knew you were close. Based on how Riddle had lost all sense of consistent timing and rhythm, you suspected that he was too.

“Riddle…” You shakily called out, willing him to look at you again, “p-please cum for me darling.”

Your voice quivered between thrusts, but if someone could be described as literally having a fire behind their eyes, that was what it was like looking at Riddle.

Gaining to a violent speed, both of your moans and gasps and pleads building into a crescendo, Riddle held your hips one final, bruising time, as he finished and near collapsed over you.

Not wanting to finish without you, Riddle frantically swirled his fingers over your clit until you released the loudest ‘ah!’ of your life. Riddle felt you clench around his overstimulated dick and almost felt like fainting, but he resisted the urge in order to watch your face as you came down. Both of you panting, sweating, shaking, an absolute mess.

It was the first time he could really say that he was happy having made one.

"...Prefect?"

"Yeah, Riddle?"

"Do you want some tea?"

"What do the rules say about tea at night?"

"I can't find it in me to care about the rules right now." Riddle said with a smile, snuggling up to your side sleepily.

"Me either." You replied, pulling Riddle off of your couch for you both to clean up and hopefully get some sleep.

You were far too tired for tea, as cute as it was of him to ask.

And there you have it! Did you like it? Do you want more of Riddle? Someone else? Let me know!

AMAB counterpart is coming soon and will be linked as soon as its posted.

Violent Delights Part 2 is also mostly written because I am out of control haha.

Love you reader!

Requested tags: @readinganas, @yandere-kou, @daeda21, @buckketboy, @kxhyuns, @aikochan4859, @prince-zukohere, @star-gods, @sarahyumiko2, @rosalie-in-twisted-wonderland, @chopid-lulu, @naniky, @kashasenpai, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars,

#twst reader insert #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #n/sfw text #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x yuu #riddle x y/n #twst smut #lemon fic #twisted wonderland smut #twst #riddle smut

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that-student-that-has-homework · 2 months

Text

The Rationality of Emotion

Al-Haitham / Reader Chapters: Chp 1 | Chp 2

Read the Full Story on Ao3 | Tumblr MasterList Here (Maybe even leave me a comment please? :3< )

Summary: Kaveh simply couldn't believe that Al-Haitham was going to marry before him! Not that ill-tempered, bullheaded, brutish excuse for a man! Not just that! The rational brute was marrying the Emotional Scholar, of all people! Rationality and Emotion? Marrying? How could this be possible?! --o-- A story in which: you just wanted help reading some runes, your parents wanted to you to marry, Al-Haitham wanted a cover story for when he went out into the desert, and Kaveh is...well...he's...he's there for you. Needless to say you're now all one big happy (?) family!

Chapter 1: Unexpected

The sun had long since set, the moon, or what of it could be seen anyway - it had phases and for all he knew it could be a new moon tonight, he’s been rather preoccupied with his latest design and hadn’t had the chance to admire the lovely glowing orb.

Hmph.

That annoying roommate (effectively a tyrannical landlord despite his grace in allowing him to stay with him-this man operates in paradoxes doesn’t he?) of his would argue that - actually most students would argue that the moon doesn’t in fact emit any light, rather it reflects the light of the sun and whatnot. Yes, he was very well aware, thank you very much, he’d studied elementary physics as well.

In fact he was likely more knowledgeable in physics than that linguist. He was an architect, an engineer.

Nevermind all that, what was important was that it was late and his roommate had yet to return, much to his pleasure really. It wasn’t uncommon that he’d be out late or even go for trips without warning, perhaps this was one of those blessed situations where he would be able to go for days without seeing him. Lovely.

Of course things could not always be so delightful, as the architectural genius (yes he truly was a marvel) had just about completed the application of his honey mask that he heard the door open. He’d rather not be seen with his face covered in honey, not that he really cared if that excessively confident junior of his saw him in such a state, he simply wasn’t in the mood to explain himself.

“Kaveh,” oh how unusual for him to approach him first.

“What is it? I’m busy,” the man in question said as he made sure that he had in fact covered the entirety of his face in honey.

“Is that so?” Came the unimpressed reply. “Suit yourself.”

Suit himself? What on Teyvat? Appearances be damned. Kaveh made his way out to the kitchen; he had to wash his hands and return the honey jar either way after all. Once that task was dealt with he approached his housemate who…

Where was he?

The sounds of running water from the restroom gave away the scribe’s location. Perhaps it really wasn’t all that important after all. For all he knew, Al-Haitham was probably about to inform of something truly infuriating and pointless to him.

-_-

The following week he found the parts to a new piece of furniture, a bed, in one corner of the salon. Oddly enough it was wider than the standard size, perhaps a queen sized bed? How peculiar, from what he’d witnessed of the prickly scholar he didn’t care for such extravagance. No matter, it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

The day after that the architect returned late at night to see a new pile of wood in the salon. Seems the scribe really was upgrading his furniture. Kaveh moved to inspect the craftsmanship on the wood. Al-Haitham had taste, as much as he hated to admit it. Though it was simple, it was tasteful, and would likely not go out of style any time soon.

The following night the reputable architect pulled an all-nighter at his atelier in the Akademiya, working diligently to complete a blueprint, and only managed to finally return to his shared accommodations the night after. Which coincidentally was when things truly became strange. The third room in the house, which was mostly used for storage, was now occupied with that large bed he’d seen before, a closet, and yet another pile of wood in a corner of the room.

Just what on Teyvat was going on?

No sooner had he thought that, then the door had opened, the owner of the house marching in. Excellent timing, truly, he needed an explanation for all of these changes.

“Just what is going on here?” He asked, gesturing to the former storage room.

The pleasant expression the scribe seemed to have before dropped, vanishing without a trace. Wait - pleasant expression? Unless he was reading a book, or things were going his way, that was rare. Was this all an elaborate plot to mess with him? Nevermind that!

“Isn’t it obvious?” The scribe returned.

Kaveh stared at him in silence.

Obvious? Obvious he says? It was so deep into obscurity that there couldn’t be anything remotely obvious about it. It might as well be the Abyss!

“Had it been obvious I wouldn’t find the need to ask you, now would I?” He sighed.

“You have a tendency to ask about the obvious with little thought,” his junior shrugged, “have you given the situation any thought prior to asking?”

“I’ve given it plenty of thought,” much more than it deserved really, “I was under the impression you were changing your furniture.”

The unimpressed expression his housemate gave him was truly punchable. Clenching his fists to restrain himself from physically attacking his housemate, he continued, “however you’ve placed them in the unused room of all places, what are you planning?”

“You got that far and still didn’t find the answer?” Dear Lesser Lord Kusanali, it was taking every fibre of his being not to grab the nearest thing-a rather large volume that the irritating man had been reading recently coincidentally-and lob it straight into his head.

The jerk had the audacity to sigh, like he was the one who was tired, “we’re going to have another person living here soon.”

“What?”

“Is it that much of a surprise?” He moved past him to the kitchen, the architect following. “I tried to inform you earlier, however you were busy.”

“When did you-” oh. That was why the scribe had uncharacteristically approached him back then.

Nevermind that though: there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“Who? ” He had to warn them, unless they absolutely, desperately needed lodging, no! Even then! It would be best if they stayed far away from someone so insufferable. Then again he was there, he’d make it all bearable-

“My wife.”

“Your what? ” The architect looked his roommate up and down as though the signs of matrimony would magically appear upon him. “You’re married?”

“Not yet,” came the calm reply.

“You’re engaged?! ” Unbelievable! “Who in Teyvat would agree to marry you?”

“To my understanding, I’m a rather attractive candidate,” the engaged scribe returned calm as ever, “I’m able-bodied, capable of providing due to my prestigious employment, and have a respectable lineage.”

“The poor girl, what sort of trickery did you resort to?” Kaveh would have to find her and ask what possessed her to make such a horrible decision.

“Trickery? What nonsense are you babbling about?” The scribe folded his arms across his chest.

“What sane, rational lady would agree to wed you?” He marched up to him. “What kind of things did you say to her? I didn’t even think you were capable of such speech!”

The perplexed expression that usually brought him a semblance of joy only served to fan the flames of-of…uh…of confused irritation?

Surprise?

Goodness!

He was a cocktail of bewildering emotions!

“If you’re insinuating I employed dishonest methods to impress my future spouse,” oh bother, he did not have the patience to deal with Al-Haitham’s temperament on a good day - let alone when he’s as deprived of sleep as he was right now, “I’ll have to advise you: choose your next words carefully.”

“You mean to tell me she was impressed by you, as you are?” The blonde scoffed, “there’s no way she knows about your temper.” He waved his hand dismissively, after all if a lady knew of…oh no. “Unless! It can’t be!”

His housemate returned his look of horror with a bored look of his own.

“Has she been blinded by…by…by,” dear Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word, “l-l-lo lo-loo-temporary affection,” he really couldn’t say it, “and is incapable of thinking rationally when it comes to you?”

He hated to admit it, but he has overheard ladies giggle and croon over Al-Haitham, on the rare occasion they would glimpse him. Well with how he dressed-nevermind that!

“She’s viewing you through a rose tinted lens?! She’s not in the right mindset to be making life decisions then,” oh he absolutely had to find her, “quickly tell me her name.”

To his greatest surprise, Al-Haitham had a rather smug, if small, smile upon his face, “well I can assure you that’s not the case,” he gestured in explanation, “my fiancee was not under the blinding influence of love, or as you put it ‘temporary affection,’” his expression only grew more smug, “we both came to the decision to marry after discussing it in depth and evaluating it rationally.”

Kaveh didn’t believe a word of that. Not for an instant. There was no way. Absolutely not. She had to be a convincing actress or something.

“Impossible, you’re the only insufferable person who uses logic in these situations,” the architect denied, “she must be a very compelling actress.”

“In which case she would be the dishonest one,” his astute junior returned, “I hope you realize your response implies that she is so acutely infatuated with me she would actively seek to appeal to my personal preferences.”

Why this!

“How did you arrive at that conclusion?” Disbelief contorted the architect’s pretty features into a scowl.

The absurdity of such a notion.

“You said she could be pretending to be rational in order to marry me. By acquiring me as a husband, she establishes an exclusive romantic claim to me and discourages most competition while maintaining leverage against the outliers. All of which would imply a very keen desire to monopolize me, hence: infatuation.”

“That’s not it at all! She could simply be in desperate need of a husband for any assortment of reasons!”

He’s been a fake lover to a lady scholar once or twice, helping them ward off unwanted attention for a while. He’d also heard some scholars complain about how their parents wishing for them to marry was getting in the way of their work. Not to mention the sheer number of scholars who married for the sake of a project or research (which was more often related to genealogy).

There were the contract marriages of those wishing to be done with it all too. Oddly enough they were mostly successful, with feelings developing between them later.

Unfortunately this poor lady was to marry this bullheaded linguist so the chances of that were nothing short of zero, and he was being generous. On a particularly bad day Kaveh would be compelled to put that number in the negatives.

“So you mean to say you’re concerned I’m being taken advantage of?” The obstinate nuisance inquired.

“How you arrive at these outlandish conclusions is beyond me,” Kaveh massaged his temples with one hand.

“As is basic reasoning it would seem.”

“Excuse me?” The disrespect!

Hmph!

If he wants to be like that then: “you said your wife,” the poor foolish girl whom he had to rescue, “was coming to live with us.”

“Strictly speaking, given she will be mistress of this house as I am its master and she, my wife,” he spoke coolly, “you will be living with us,”

The audacity. No matter if he was right! There were kinder ways to put it!

Nevermind that though, “but you’re not married yet, meaning she’s your fiancée.”

“Yes.”

“Then you mean to say your fiancée is coming to live with us,” while he wasn’t usually one for semantics, he refused to yield.

“While she is currently my fiancée,” now this Haravatat scholar, definitely was a semanticist, “she won’t move in until we marry and hold the wedding ceremony. At which point she will be my wife not fiancée and as my wife she will be coming to live here, with me, as is customary of a married couple.”

“Goodness this poor girl,” well the marriage had yet to go through, “how did you manage this?”

“I proposed.”

“Clearly. No one’s going to propose to you,” Kaveh had so many questions, “But what drove you to propose?”

“Her openness to marriage, obviously” Al-Haitham’s tone revealed just how stupid he thought the inquiry was.

“That’s not-” the blonde sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, goodness he was much too tired for this, “nevermind, who is she?”

“You’ll be meeting her soon enough.”

Ugh. As much as he wanted to save the girl, he was running at fumes and this stubborn ox of a man was not going to budge. Regrettably.

“When is the wedding? I better be invited.”

“Yes of course,” he gestured noncommittally, “I wouldn’t dare think to exclude my own housemate.”

By the tone he was using it was clear he had considered not inviting him.

–

Kaveh felt he needed to air his grievances about this current dilemma to someone who would be able to fully understand the gravity of the situation. He was also in desperate need of inspiration, so he decided a trip to the Avidya Forest was necessary. He’d be able to kill two birds with one stone that way.

“Al-Haitham? You mean the scribe?” Tighnari’s puzzled expression brought the blonde a sense of calm.

“Yes!” Kaveh responded eagerly. “To think someone so insufferable would!” He paused in the middle of his tirade. “Who could possibly subject themselves to such misery?”

Collei, bless her, the sweet girl, came by with some fresh tea and some snacks at that moment. Her master was quick to take them off her hands, with only a small complaint from her.

“Is Al-Haitham really so bad?” She couldn’t help her curiosity.

She was fortunately spared the misery of having to meet the insufferable scholar. Kaveh couldn’t be any more thankful, truly.

“I’ve told you about what it’s been like living with him,” the architect accepted the little handleless tea cup with its plate that the forest ranger offered him, “and this is just a temporary arrangement caused by extreme circumstances. This girl is about to be permanently stuck in this situation!”

“I imagine her situation will be different from yours given she’ll be his wife,” the proficient botanist offered a cup to his pupil.

“Regardless!” Kaveh continued. “I just want to know who would be so tasteless? so blind? Who could despise themselves so much as to marry Al-Haitham?”

“Hmm, I think you’re asking the wrong question,” came the pensive response of the forest watcher.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m more interested in why he decided to get married,” Tighnari gestured, as he returned to his seat, “he doesn’t seem like the type to particularly enjoy company.”

The blonde paused.

Truthfully that was curious.

As Tighnari had said: Al-Haitham conducted himself in a manner to ward people off. He wasn’t the type to engage in conversations for the sake of fostering friendships.

“How did this happen?” The curious architect wondered aloud. “Then again he is a man. Perhaps this is just a means to that end?”

“There are alternate solutions that are less work than marriage,” the long-eared fellow rebutted.

“This is true, however,” Kaveh squinted at nothing, frowning, “if we assess this with the rationality he’s obsessed with.”

“Oh. Then I could see why he’d consider it.”

“Yes, rather than regularly exerting effort on varying conquests that could each bring about their own problems,” the blonde pinched the rim of his tea cup, lifting it to his lips, “in this case his conquest resides in his house, requiring little effort.”

“And there would be less complications should these ‘conquests’ result in children,” the ranger added, “though there are contraceptive methods and herbs according to the literature.”

“That is a horrifying thought,” the architect shook his head.

“What is?” One of Tighnari’s ears tilted slightly to one side as if in question, before a laugh emerged from him. “Oh you mean Al-Haitham having kids?”

Kaveh simply nodded.

“Well there’s no guarantee they’ll inherit his personality, they might get their mother’s,” the botanist mused.

“Assuming her personality is radically different,” the blonde leaned back, “according to Al-Haitham he and she decided to get married after assessing it logically.”

“No two people are exactly alike, you know.”

“True, true,” he sat up again in a pensive stance, “now that you’ve mentioned it: it is curious who could have managed to earn his approval.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” Tighnari refilled Kaveh’s tea cup.

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

-_-

The Light of Kshahrewar returned to Sumeru City shortly after, full of inspiration, and even more questions.

The reclusive bookworm of a scribe…yes…who could possibly…draw his attention? Who could possibly be deemed as compatible? Possibly a person of mild temperament? Who knew?

At his atelier, the architect was very pleased to be graced with the presence of a certain Vahumana scholar, to whom he could rant endlessly about every architectural style in history. Yes, this historian was a rapt listener who delighted in the knowledge he offered and often contributed some fascinating facts as well. Facts which sometimes inspired his imagination.

A dear acquaintance.

He’d been in the middle of talking about the architecture and the engineering employed by the ancient desert civilization prior to the destruction caused by the Archon War and whatnot, when the topic of a rumored tomb dedicated to the wife of some king or another came up.

To his surprise, he did not receive the awe and adoration he’d expected. The response was tame, and mostly curious, bordering on suspicious as the tale seemed unfamiliar to this particular historian. Not that there was any doubting Kaveh’s little fun fact! Not at all! But kings that doted on their wives were few and far between usually.

“You must admit that the notion of a man loving his wife enough to dedicate a great architectural wonder to her is a romantic one though,” the architect insisted.

“It makes for a romantic tale no doubt,” the delightful scholar smiled in concession.

“I sense there is a ‘however’ in your statement,” Kaveh folded his arms across his chest and leaned back.

“Well,” that was a rather tentative tone, “I suppose I could be overly cynical, there is an extensive library of love poems dedicated by men to their lovers.”

The architect felt his previous joy return. Ah if only Al-Haitham were so easy to reason with!

“In all honesty, I am more interested as to how this temple and the theory of it being dedicated to a king’s beloved wife came about,” ah yes spoken like a true Vahumana scholar! “I wonder what analyses and artifacts they excavated to arrive at such a conclusion.”

He hadn’t looked into it much beyond the conjectured blueprints, which were stunning - make no mistake! So, he didn’t have an answer to that.

Oh well.

At least his enthusiasm regarding how romantic the notion was reciprocated. While the initial response betrayed his expectations: he was delighted that his point of view was now as appreciated as it ought to be.

After all, who wouldn’t enjoy such a romantic gesture.

Oh.

He knew who.

Al-Haitham.

Hmm…perhaps he could do with a feminine opinion.

“I’d like your opinion on something,” he asked after a short lull in the conversation.

“Yes?”

“My roommate recently mentioned he’s getting married,” he paused staring at some random tile as he gathered his thoughts, “he mentioned he and his fiancée had come to the agreement to marry logically.”

Well that was a strangely awkward look he was receiving, “do you actually believe that?”

“I think people should not neglect rationality when trying to choose a spouse,” he could not believe thi- “though some attraction is also necessary.”

“You mean to say,” Kaveh took a moment to better articulate his thoughts, “love is not necessary when marrying?”

“Which form of love are you talking about?” Goodness, where did the past agreeability go?

Ah yes! He’d forgotten a critical fact: Vahumana scholars could be just as semantic as Haravatat scholars.

His attention was brought back to the current conversation with a sigh, “I apologize Kaveh, I don’t have the energy needed for this kind of discussion today.”

Oh? Well he could understand that, it was getting to be later in the day, he’d been considering either returning home or heading out to eat.

“A rational conclusion to marry is okay in the presence of subtle attraction,” was the verdict he received.

How astonishing. He’d have expected more weight to be attributed towards emotion. After all sat before him was none other than-ah no he knew better than to use that insulting moniker.

Still he’d expected this scholar to share in his opinion. To stress the importance of love in establishing a relationship. It was strange that the opinion presented was closer to that of Al-Haitham’s. He’d never have expected it.

The well dressed artist blinked himself back into reality when a fancy looking envelope appeared in his peripheral.

“I’d originally intended to give this to you and leave you in peace,” Kaveh found himself receiving a sheepish smile, “however your discussion about the recovered architectural techniques pre-dating the archon war was enthralling! I really enjoyed it! Thank you for telling me about it!”

The Light of Kshahrewar himself, warmed up at the appreciation expressed. With a final farewell he was left to his own devices.

Naturally his first instinct was to open the envelope. Such fancy stock, was this perhaps a confession? While the feelings wouldn’t exactly be mutual…the architect wouldn’t deny him entertaining the thought of such a relationship following a confession. Besides he could never blame anyone who found him attractive, he-

“You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Wedding of Al-Haitham and-”

He pushed the card back down, closing the flap of the envelope. Closing his eyes and shaking his head he pulled out the card yet again…

“You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Wedding of Al-Haitham and-”

He once again put the invite into its envelope and closed the flap.

It was a wonder his eyeballs didn’t fall out of their sockets.

The mystery lady, the poor pitiful girl, his target for rescue…

Of all people…

Al-Haitham was marrying YOU?!

#alhaitham #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfics

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clavissionary-position · 1 year

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𝗠 𝗔 𝗦 𝗧 𝗘 𝗥 𝗟 𝗜 𝗦 𝗧 What the Fuck is This?: Silvio Reacts to Ikepri Merch (Sort of)

Crack through and through. Can be read in any order :)

Silvio Reacts to Ikepri Placemats feat. Rio, Gilbert, Keith

Silvio Reacts to Ikepri Towels feat. Rio

Silvio Reacts to Acrylic Stands feat. Clavis, Cyran, Gilbert

Silvio Reacts to Acrylic Stands (Wedding ed.) feat. Nokto, Rio, Gilbert

Silvio Reacts to Bromides feat. Carlo

✎……

Series tag is #Silvio Reacts

Pls tell me if the links are broken!

#ikepri #ikemen prince #silvio reacts #atelier masterlist

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atelier-maroron · 2 years

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Series Masterlist // Shakespapa

main masterlist ◆ my writing tag ◆ my art tag 🤍 t w i t t e r ◆ i n s t a — if you’d like to be on my taglist, you can fill out the form here (minors dni)

summary: A peek into family-life in the Shakespeare household. Featuring Will's precocious young daughter and her first day of school. rating: g genre: wholesome / slight crack / fluff notes: written for @ikesimp100 as part of @ikemenlibrary's Ikevamp Gift Exchange

Chapter 1 ◆ Chapter 2 (coming soon!)

#ikevamp #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp x reader #(series) shakespapa #atelier writes ikeseries #atelier masterlist

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apompkwrites · 1 year

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the ashengrotto connections || azul ashengrotto

masterlist characters: azul (platonic) (+leech twins) genre: angst (very light) contains: azul's bio dad is shady as hell, body-image issues :(, manga inspo for magic :D summary: how can a single promise and a new octopot change the trajectory of a cecaelia's life? notes: lovely lil ashengrotto getting some development!! had the idea to use witch hat atelier magic for them so expect that :DD also gonna get around to putting oc's here soon! parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

your parents were loving individuals. more so your mother and stepfather than your biological father was, but that's besides the point.

you admired them the same way your brother did. your parents were go-getters since the day you were born (and the day you met them in terms of your stepfather).

your biological father, on the other hand, was shady, to put it lightly. from the few memories you had of him, you remembered him coming home in late hours of the night, body aching and tentacles stained with... something. he was a secretive man and your mother seemed to want to keep it that way.

when she announced the divorce and the subsequent lawyer visits, she seemed elated at the idea that her husband, soon to be former husband, would be out of her life and far far away from her children.

you remembered her warning you to never, under any circumstances, become like that man. she made you promise not to ever deal with shady figures like he did. and you kept that promise.

you lived by that promise.

maybe you internalized it. took it too far and were now reaping what you sowed. but, when you gave your brother his brand new octopot, no longer cracked and broken, decorated with lovely little pearls and shells on the surface, you were glad you did.

the smile he gave you that day was blinding. he was so excited, wrapping you up in his tentacles to give a tight squeeze before nestling into his new octopot, his little voice echoing from the walls about how spacious it was and how he didn't have to worry about new fragments falling on him in his sleep.

and you were just as excited for him. sure, the octopot you had spotted that day that was decorated with different colored swirls and shells still sat on the shelf instead of in front of you, but the sight of your sensitive, soft-hearted brother cheering and laughing in a way you hadn't seen in so long made that sacrifice worth it.

and you knew, from that day on, you would do anything to keep that smile.

who knew that with one single octopot purchase, your brother would find the one thing he had been yearning for ever since he entered school?

the day he came home, two twin eels following him like predators, was surprising and somewhat concerning considering the nervousness on his face when he introduced the two.

jade was unnerving in his own way. he held a sly smile at all times, his expression the same the entire time he talked and listened. his movements were slow and methodical for a child, almost as if he were calculating each swish of his tail or raise of his webbed hand.

floyd, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of his twin. he was wild, thrashing about and poking and prodding at your broken octopot. giggles escaped his razor-teethed mouth, his tail wiggling around the more he circled you. azul seemed accustomed to this behavior as all he did was wave at floyd to stop.

"eh? this your little sibling, azul?" floyd had hummed to himself when he was circling you, his sharpened nails inching closer to your pudgy skin and tentacles. "mm, they're so puffy!"

azul curled in on himself for a moment when those words left floyd's mouth. did he know how your brother felt about his body? he must be, right? why else would he point out the same features on you?

you hoped that any and all observations made about your size would be reduced to just you, not to azul.

you were relieved when the twins dragged azul out of the house, talking his ears off about some sort of school trip they were supposed to get prepared for. and despite the leech twins being eccentric, you were glad azul seemed to find friends.

maybe he would focus less on his body with them around.

there were times you envied azul after that. you envied the fact that as he grew up, he had the leech twins to fall back on. sure, he was still occupied in his magic, but he at least had them at the end of the day.

you, on the other hand, only had your magic.

you wanted to be just like azul, you told yourself, so why not focus on your magic like he was? and maybe, just maybe, you would be strong enough to protect him from other children who bullied and berated him to no end.

he had the leech twins to protect him, but that excuse kept you sane.

you often stole scrapped documents from your mother's desk, using the empty backs of the pages to scribble little sigils, something you were sure azul was doing in his spare time if the crumpled-up papers outside of his octopot had anything to say about it.

and so, just like him, you wrote. you wrote and you drew and you scribbled. it took a few months, but soon you got to a point where you were able to make something legible on paper.

the sigil had a centerpiece, a little curly s that looked like the swirls you had seen on the octopot that day. you surrounded it with arrows pointing toward it, encapsulating the entire drawing in a single circle.

you didn't care that magic wasn't made this way. it was the most you were going to compromise with yourself in terms of selfishness, so why not get creative with it?

and, to your surprise, the water surrounding the paper was pulled in, swirling around to make a small vortex that was strong enough to change the direction of the floating bits of seaweed. it didn't rip them out of the ground, no it was too weak to do that, but it did make them sway closer to the sigil.

the sudden movement shocked you, making you drop the pen in your hand. it tumbled to the floor, bubbles flying up past it once it landed. but before you could ponder more on what had happened, a new voice chimed in.

"how'd you do that?"

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @kiznax @yuistan @shortmelol @keqingsfavbestie @nothing-leave-me--alone @cherrykissesss890 @justheretoread3 @hetam @sacrificialwife1 @yevenly @1midnightcoffee @anon-loves-octa-trio @thomanok @mariesakamari @lunavixia @potatohuman04

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland azul x reader #twst azul #twst azul x reader #azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul ashengrotto #twst azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #black sheep

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berrypockets · 2 months

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Voiceless | The Silent World

Tommy Shelby x Reader

As Y/N navigated the challenges of her silent world, a silent guardian stood in the shadows. Ever since the war's aftermath, Tommy Shelby, the formidable leader of the Shelby crime family, took a keen interest in Y/N's life.

Night after night, when her atelier closed its doors and the city plunged into a quiet darkness, Tommy would appear on the dimly lit streets of Birmingham. With a silent nod, he would walk Y/N home, his watchful eyes ensuring her safety in the city's intricate shadows.

When Tommy wasn't around, his brothers, John or Arthur, would take on the role of silent protectors, escorting Y/N through the maze of streets that held both the charm and dangers of post-war Birmingham. The Shelby family, notorious in their own right, embraced Y/N as one of their own.

Silently, Tommy Shelby supported Y/N's passion for sewing and her blossoming business. In particular, he observed her work with a quiet admiration, recognizing the unspoken strength that fueled her resilience.

The Shelby family, with their complex dynamics and ruthless reputation, secretly held a soft spot for Y/N. Each member, in their own way, contributed to the tapestry of her life. As the unspoken bonds between Y/N and the Shelby family deepened, so did the silent whispers of approval and affection.

When the tragedy struck and the echoes of the orchestrated attack reverberated through Small Heath, the Shelby family united in their concern for Y/N. Tommy, in his characteristic stoic manner, kept a watchful eye on her recovery. Sometimes, from across the street, he would silently observe, ensuring her safety without uttering a word.

In the hushed corners of Small Heath, a sentiment took root—an acknowledgment that, despite the ruthless facade that Tommy Shelby wore, his heart held a unique place for Y/N. As she faced the silent aftermath of the attack, the Shelby family's presence remained a silent testament to the enduring bond that transcended the city's gritty shadows.

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #cillian murphy #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x fem!reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x you

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marshmellowrio · 2 months

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Flight of the Night | Chapter 2

A/N: Here is chapter 2 of this little fanfic idea I had, I've had way more response than I had anticipated on the first chapter. Thank you for that! If you're new here, you can find it on my profile. I'm still figuring out how to work Tumblr, so bear with me while I figure out how to put in links and masterlists and all that stuff.

Word count: 1113

I left the townhouse after breakfast, not needing to be there any longer as Amren and Azriel spoke to Rhysand. Opting to wander into the city, I remember to tuck in my wings close as the icy winds nip at the exposed skin. Several citizens send me smiles as they pass me in the streets. I don’t even realize I walked onto the Palace of Thread and Jewels until I’m standing front of the Ruby Dream. I cringe when I remember the official name of the atelier, it seemed a good idea when we were drunk, but I really should’ve sobered up before giving Rhysand the filled in form. Not that it wasn’t a nice name, it’s just a mouthful. Ruby Dreams, Emerald Kisses and a Sapphire Embrace. It's kind of obvious why we shortened it to Ruby Dream. Kenna laughed at me when she first found out, but she loved the sentiment of it, she told me after she was done laughing.

I’m welcomed by a warm and calming sensation as I walk through the door, Kenna’s voice drifting out from the backroom, “I will be right out, look around all you want!”

A grin blooms on my face, “Don’t bother, it’s just me.” Little wheels are heard rolling over the floorboards and Kenna’s head becomes visible in the doorway to the backroom as she leans back in her swivel chair.

I start walking her way to the atelier in the back as she straightens, “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today?” Her sentence sounds more like a question, combined with a set of furrowed brows. “Is something wrong?”

I reach her work station and lean against it as she turns to face me properly. I chuckle softly, “No, nothing’s wrong.” She sighs in relief and turns back to her workspace. “Just stopping by.”

“Well, in that case,” she shoots a grin to me and I know what she’s about to say. “There’s plenty of work to do, if you’ve got some time to spare.” She gestures to the pile of custom orders and I frown at it, sighing.

I really needed to sort that out. “We’re not taking anymore customs for the time being.”

Kenna snorts, “I’ve been telling you that for months.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I take the pile of forms in my hands and walk to my own workspace, which… is not how I left it. “Kenna?” My eyebrows raise and I look at her.

She smiles shyly, and I narrow my eyes, she’s not shy. “Mrs Hallow needed some adjustments to her ring and she absolutely did not want me to touch it.”

I breathe in deeply, “Mrs Hallow needs to chill, this is her fourth adjustment this month, what does she want this time?” I put the stack of orders in the paper organizer.

“It’s all on the form, she basically wants the stone to be set a little deeper.”

I sigh once more but sit down at my desk and start reading through the form, looking at the ring and seeing what can be done.

The rest of the day is spent working through all of the custom orders, planning which ones to start around what time. The adjustments to Mrs Hallow’s ring only took about half an hour, so I just worked through the stack of paper, forgetting all about the dinner in the House of Wind.

“I thought you had a diner tonight, that’s why you had the day off, wasn’t it?” Kenna breaks through my concentration.

“What?”

Kenna stands up, stretching and points to the clock on the wall. “Dinner? Our High Lord?”

My eyes widen and I shoot up out of my chair. “I-”

The female laughs and nods, “Go, I will lock up.” I grab the jacket I had thrown over the back of my chair earlier and whirl towards my friend, giving her a quick hug before running to the door.

I hadn’t realised it was closing time already, which meant that I was officially late for dinner. My wings flare out as soon as I scan the streets, making sure there’s no citizens around that I could hit. I take to the skies, rushing to the House of Wind, I should’ve known I would get lost in the paperwork.

As soon as I touch down, I hear Amren’s sharp voice, “-your bones were Made.”

I take a moment to breathe in deeply, so I don’t seem as flustered. I stroll into the dining room a second later, feeling the tension as Amren and Feyre stare at each other.

Amren’s eyes flicker to me as she notices the movement in the corners of her eyes, “Nice of you to join us.” I roll my eyes with a small smile in response.

Cassian turns in his seat to see me walking up to him as he’s closest to the doorway. “Oh please, we all know she loves to make an entrance.”

“I learned from the best.” I wink at him right before I reach him and pull him in for a half hug while pressing a kiss to his cheek. Giving Azriel’s bicep a squeeze, I continue to round the table to reach Rhys.

I treat Rhys with the same courtesy as Cassian but his attention remains on Feyre. “She’s pretty.” I whisper with a small grin playing on my lips.

“Don’t you dare.” He hisses in return as I walk away with the grin widening in amusement.

“Good evening,” I stop in between the High Lord’s chair and Feyre’s. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” The human girl looks away from Amren and she takes me in, which makes Amren lose interest and turn to Mor. Feyre’s eyes widen when she looks at my wings and I tuck them in just a little bit tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m not as much of a brute as the other two.” I cock my head to the side, gesturing to the two other Illyrian’s at the table.

“Lyssa, nice to meet you Feyre.” I give her a dazzling grin and I see Mor match mine in the corner of my eyes. Glancing to her for a second, our eyes meet and my grin only widens.

“Be nice.”

“Oh come on, Rhys. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone new to tease and flirt with.” Feyre’s cheeks turn slightly flushed.

Rhys pinches my side, “Behave.” But when I watch him study Feyre I know he’s glad I got some sort of reaction out of her. I roll my eyes, but go to sit down. Deciding to listen to him for once, I settle into my seat next to Mor.

A/N: Let me know how you liked it and if you wanted to be added to the taglist! (I'm sorry of I'm not doing the taglist thing right, I literally do not know what I'm doing here?!)

Taglist: @inloveallthetime

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acomaf #cassian #azriel #rhysand #flight of the night #acotar x reader #acotar x oc

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muffinsin · 4 months

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i read the getting choked by Cassandra’s cock at work and I’m feeling all hot n bothered. You’re stories really have an effect on me and they’re entertaining.

my request if you can, can you do a wholesome story of where Cassandra has nothing to do and decides to go and bother her female s/o that’s in the atelier room painting but her s/o suggest that she lay on her lap, Cassandra lays on her lap and watching her s/o painting and how the brush moves soothes her to sleep.

I believe you wrote one like this before and that’s all I can remember what happened.

Very glad to know my work creates such reactions! ;) Could it have been a part of hc’s regarding the sisters hobbies or fluff ones? I believe I’ve done both once! But absolutely! I love me some fluffy Cassandra!

Masterlist

Cassandra was beyond bored.

The prisoners were weak from her antics and barely had enough life left in them to scream. (She refused to acknowledge Bela’s light scolding for being too hard on them), all the weapons were still being cleaned and even so, the cold winter air would not allow her to go hunt either way.

Additionally, her sisters were busy. While it would be rare for her to annoy the blonde, often Daniela made for some fun times whenever she was bored. But even she was too busy to play chase or destroy some vases, instead all curled up in the library with another lame book.

Cassandra felt bored, and restless.

That was, thankfully, when she thought of you.

Being the skilled huntress she is, it was easy to track your unique scent in the castle, all the way until she found herself in the atelier room.

She smiled- the air was comfortable here, less stuffy than the rest of the castle. As much as the brunette appreciated her mother’s concerns regarding the temperature in the castle, it was getting slightly ridiculous!

She grinned when she saw you, swarming over to you all to happily.

You smiled as you felt her come up behind you, her hand set on your shoulder. You appreciated that she did not scare you, and grinned, a little shyly even, as you saw what had her so quiet.

Cassandra stared at the painting, taking in your picture of the castle gardens, before golden eyes settled on your hand and the brush, guided by gentle, precise fingers.

You continued painting over the same spot, enthralled by her reaction. You watched as her eyes grew heavy, eyelids dropping slightly as she watched you. As you held your breath, you heard silent purring from her flies. You grinned- if you were to mention them, you were sure she would be all up again, insisting it was merely her flies making noises as their wings brushed together.

You set the brush down, turning to her fully. Her head pulled back slightly- she was still unused of receiving someone’s full and undivided attention and love.

She blushed a little when you cupped her cheek and smiled at your laughter when you realized it was the wrong hand. The brunette stayed unusually still as you wiped the paint off her cheek with your fingertip. She was content to bask in the comfortable warmth of the room and situation a little longer.

“I’m bored”, she said eventually, her voice softer than usual. She had possibly never felt this comfortable. “Play with me?”, she asked, smiling when you stroked your thumb across her cheek.

“I’ll finish this, sugar, but then we can see what we can do”

She frowned, but was shushed when you leaned up and pulled her down by her cheek, pressing your lips to hers. “Why don’t you stay?”

She frowned in confusion that time. No one had ever asked her to stay.

She nodded quietly, unsure what you meant. Was she supposed to keep standing-?

Her silent question was answered when you patted your thigh. She grinned again. Looking behind her for a moment to ensure nobody else was in the room with you, she smiled and sank to the floor, resting her head on your warm lap.

Upon feeling your hand in her hair, she purred quietly. Her eyes found your other hand, the one holding the brush, again.

“I want to watch”, she protested when you moved the canvas.

“Just changing my canvas, darling. I’ve found my new muse”, you cooed. She blinked for a moment, then smirked as realization hit her. She watched you clean the brush and heard you hum, her cheek rested against your lap. She felt so comfortable.

You watched her for a moment before picking up your brush again and setting it down on the canvas. She watched as if enthralled, the usually so hectic mind of the huntress now completely calm.

She felt her eyelids drop every few seconds. It felt so difficult to stay awake, especially with your fingers sliding along her head, nails scraping her scalp a little and making her purr louder.

You turned your head after a little while, frowning at the silent snores that were barely louder than your hums. The woman was fast asleep on your lap, her cheek smudged against your thighs, one arm slung across her stomach, the other hand on your thigh, claws hooked in slightly so it wouldn’t slip.

More time passed, although you were unsure how much. The brunette kept sleeping on your lap all too happily.

You glanced at your canvas, finding the sleeping woman drawn on it. You grinned, adding the tip of her tongue that poked out as she slept. It would become a routine to dedicate a little time twice a week for such moments.

#cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

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dystopicjumpsuit · 8 months

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Who's the Alpha Now?

A/N: written for @anxiouspineapple99, who asked, "What I would PAY. All the credits I say! To see DJ step on Alpha." As if I could refuse a request like that.

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Dom!Reader (gender-neutral)

Wordcount: 787

Summary: Alpha learns that good boys get rewarded.

Warnings and tags: very suggestive language; GN!reader wears high heels and is smaller than Alpha (like everyone else in the galaxy) but is not otherwise described

Masterlist | Join my tag list here

“Alpha?” you called as you walked into your hotel suite. “Are you here?”

A low, irritated grunt emanated from the adjoining room, signaling that yes, he was indeed present, and he was still sulking that you’d ordered him to stay in the room and get some much-needed rest. The horror.

You suppressed a grin as he entered the room. At least he wasn’t wearing his armor; you wouldn’t have put it past him to stand at attention in his full kit for hours, just to spite you. Even dressed in just his black body glove, though, he was massive, his broad, muscular form towering over you.

“Have fun?” he rumbled, eyeing the numerous shopping bags you carried.

“I did,” you replied. “You would have hated it. I shopped for hours.”

“In those shoes?” he asked, eyeing your towering heels. “I’m surprised you can still walk.”

“Oh, I can walk,” you said with a coquettish smirk.

To demonstrate, you strutted across the room and bent over to deposit the bags on the sofa, making sure he got a good look at your backside.

“They do make your legs look amazing,” he admitted.

“I think you meant to say my legs make the heels look amazing,” you replied, arching your brow and meeting his gaze with mischief dancing in your eyes.

He finally cracked the hint of a smile, barely creasing the skin around his gorgeous, hard eyes. “My mistake. Your incredible ass and stunning legs make those heels look pretty karking good.”

“Why, thank you. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll let you lick them later.”

His eyes darkened, and he took a menacing step toward you.

“I bought you a present,” you purred, holding up a bag from a well-known atelier who specialized in bespoke lingerie.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes darting from your face, to the bag, and back to your face again. You walked toward him slowly, a deliberate swagger in your stride, making sure he had plenty of time to enjoy the view and the echoing click of your stilettos on the hard, marble floor. He surveyed you thoroughly as you approached, his eyes drifting appreciatively down your body and back up again. He kept his expression neutral, but you didn’t miss the subtle flex of his throat as he swallowed.

You slowed to a halt a few feet away from him, knowing full well that if he wanted to, he could easily reach out and pull you against his lovely, thick chest. But Alpha-17 was no fool, and he knew that you would reward his patience.

You held up the shopping bag, letting it dangle from a single finger in the space between you.

“For me?” he asked, a speculative gleam in his eyes.

“Good boys get presents,” you said with a flirtatious little smile that had his gaze riveted to your mouth. He reached for the bag, and you pulled it back slightly, causing him to narrow his eyes at you. “Have you been a good boy?”

“I did what you said, didn’t I?” he growled.

“Did you?” you asked.

“I tried,” he said sullenly. “I can’t sleep here. It’s too loud. Too many speeders. Too many people.”

“Oh, no, anything but people!” you said in a sympathetic tone laced with just enough mockery to annoy him. “My poor Alpha, having to share a planet with other inhabitants.”

“And I didn’t like to think about you out there without me to protect you,” he finished with a glare.

“I was perfectly safe, and you know it,” you replied. “Did you at least lie down?”

“I did. Even closed my eyes. When that didn’t work, I read a holonovel. Happy now?” he demanded testily.

“With you?” you asked softly. “Always.”

The tension in his face eased as he met your eyes. “I did try.”

“I know,” you soothed. “And I think that deserves a reward.”

You extended the bag to him, but he’d learned his lesson, and he waited until you pressed it into his hand before accepting it. He opened it gingerly, as though it might contain a thermal detonator, or perhaps a venomous reptile. When he saw the deep, emerald green lace and shimmersilk, he grinned.

“What do we have here?” he asked, pulling the dainty confection out of the bag.

“Just a little something for the best bodyguard in the galaxy,” you replied.

He held up the garment and inspected the complicated tangle of straps and fabric, and confusion flashed across his face.

“Er, mesh’la? I think it’s going to be a little big for you,” he said.

“Oh, darling, it’s not for me,” you laughed. “Now be a very good boy and go put it on.”

#alpha 17 #alpha 17 x reader #alpha 17 x you #gn reader #dom reader #x reader #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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never-enough-novels · 1 month

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Hello everyone

As some of you might be knowing I am about to have exams which will basically define my future so I won't be active as much. My exams will end by 2nd april. I will pause the event for now and I'll definitely do it after the exams or in between if I have time. I won't be able to message much either so if you send any message and if I don't answer pls don't take it personally. You can still send asks if you want but I most likely most answer them right away

Thank you<333

Intro post

Event masterlist

Tagging @reminiscentreader @shuhuaspookie @lanterns-and-daydreams @urbanflorals @sonics-atelier @mqstermindswift @hearthown @darlingnemesis @nqds @sophiesonlinediary @f4iry-bell

#🫧

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treysimp · 2 years

Text

I don't know how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch? (Explicit Remix)

Side: Riddle Rosehearts/AMAB!Reader (Reader has a penis)

Riddle/AFAB!Reader

As per our vote (thank you again for voting!) Riddle was the next spicy couch series conclusion. Now that both AFAB and AMAB are posted, do you have a favorite? I'm so curious.

Reader not described other than their junk, and pronouns are not used for them.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, M/M sexual relations, handjobs, anal sex, ask to tag for more.

Want more TWST? Here's my masterlist!

To skip straight to the action, scroll to the second picture of Riddle. To skip to the AMAB!Only section, skip to the picture of tarts. Thanks!

“…You should ask in a more romantic way than that.” He finally finished, fingers drifting to your tie to straighten the lopsided knot.

Your eyebrows involuntarily raised to the sky.

“Is that a no, house warden?” You ask. You wanted to start hysterically laughing, oh my God how could he possibly be so cute?

Waiting for his response, you placed your hands on top of his to still the fingers that had been fussing over your tie.

You were going to get him to answer your question in a forthright manner if it killed you.

“Next time I expect flowers! Or chocolate!” He finally shouted, pulling both of his hands away to cross them over his chest haughtily. You couldn’t hide the grin splitting your face.

“Oh? You’re already planning on next time?” You said, smoothing your hand over his ruby hair.

Riddle seemed to finally register his slip of the tongue as his face lit as scarlet as the rest of him.

“No!” Riddle practically screamed. You were glad Grim wasn’t here tonight, as he definitely would have woken up upon hearing this exchange.

You raised an eyebrow, “No?”

Riddle’s gaze was fixed on the floor, face knit in irritation.

“Only if you play your cards right.” He finished, turning his head away with a huff.

You couldn’t stop the giggling that bubbled from your chest, God he was the cutest. How did he do it?

Not being able to help yourself, you wound your arms around his body, pulling him close to you as you buried your head in his neck.

Riddle was stiff as a board, arms hovering around you awkwardly for a moment until he finally relaxed, pulling you snugly into his arms.

“Do you really want to kiss me?” You could barely hear Riddle mumble, his voice muffled by your hair as he nuzzled it into your neck to mirror the way you had been holding him.

“Yes. I do.” You said softly.

If you could believe it, Riddle got even redder. He cleared his throat and seemed to make an internal decision, twining his hands behind your neck as he pushed himself forward to meet your lips.

You both separated slowly, you wished you could take a picture of the expression on his face.

“Again.” He whispered, pushing his face back towards you with more aggressive energy, seemingly having gained confidence now that the spell of your first kiss was broken.

“Let me inside.” Riddle finally demanded, his hands curled into the lapels of your jacket. “I want to come inside.”

You swallowed audibly and nodded, pushing the door open while Riddle pulled you inside of Ramshackle.