#it basically answers all your questions about the mystery in the first few chapters which can be okay in some stories

[shadesoflsk]

MILLION DOLLAR BLOODLINE — Adam & Eve

A political candidate has been found dead and a well known agent is working alongside you. Check my million dollar bloodline masterlist for general warnings.

Chapter 1

pairing: Vampire/Agent Leon x Fem Detective reader

warnings: Rivals to lovers (Kinda one sided at first because reader doesn't get along with men) misogyny, sexism (from the press) gore, violence, death, suicide, blood, mentions of kidnapping and experimentations, fucked up government.

author's note: Hi! So, this took me longer than I expected lol. I had to delete and redo so many parts but at last I'm comfortable with the result. This is basically an introduction to both characters hence the name I gave to this chapter. I hope you guys like it.

Blinded by the constant flashes of cameras, numerous police officers make their way out of the tumultuousness of journalists and reporters who have gathered —in the name of informing— to be the first ones to publish headlines that will surely raise more commotion in the already horror-stuck citizens.

Thank God the scene of the crime is away from those prying eyes that won’t hesitate to snap a picture or two just for the sake of popularity or being contacted by those trashy and shitty newspapers that fall into the sensationalism homicides and crimes attract. 

The eighties are certainly… one of a hell decade to live in. Exuberant neon lights and flashy outfits weren’t enough to silence the crimes that were occurring each day in a city led by white-collared dicks who are ‘better than anyone else.’ The citizens’ words, not yours.

It was easy to despise everyone right now. From those politicians who share their condolences but deep down they have the same fucked up ideal and sentiment—they were happy their enemies keep dying. To the obtuse and short-sighted journalists who kept asking the same questions.

Not even your disdain and witty answers could push them away to the hell hole they came from. Catchy and well-sold tabloids were their objectives and you were the perfect subject to them. A woman in the eighties being the leader of a politic-related case? Oh God, the newspaper loves dragging down women.

Misogynistic terms were chanted even more than the national damn anthem. “God, spare us from a woman leading this case!” “Is this a new gold digger searching for a politician that isn’t dead?” Those were the most ‘tame’ titles they could come up with. However, rumor has it that directors and journalists love calling you names. Ultimately, those whispers die down as soon as the window from your Porsche 959 rolls down and the flashes of cameras turn your way.

“Ma’am we received news that the body you found was in fact, Mr. Clark. Our Major Candidate. Is there any clue this time?” The young journalist asked you. He was definitely a rookie, that ma’am that fell so easily from his lips, and his stance gave it away. Maybe you could be softer with him, aggressiveness was starting to wear you off.

You take out your sunglasses, the snaps of the pictures get harder to bear but for once, you try holding eye contact with this said journalist. In his gaze, you admire his inexperience and eagerness to get something out of this conversation.

Sadly, there’s nothing to offer from a lifeless body and a pool of blood that could flood the entire apartment of the deceased.

“It’s still unknown. We shall wait for the forensic team to provide us with the results of the autopsy.” Your voice is uninterested, an automatic reaction each time a question is asked. 

“So… The police department is once again showing signs of inability to complete a case?”

Fuck them all. All of them.

A few hours ago, you had received a call which informed you about the disappearance of a candidate, a major candidate. Of course, a crime would occur when the elections were just around the corner. A perfect scenario to bring the already most famous and glamorized case in the decade more mystery and gore.

A disappearance meant a homicide, it would take just minutes before you were notified that a body had been found. 

And you were right.

Eventually, a coworker of yours informed you—with an annoyed expression on their face— that a drained body was found in an apartment. 

Working on two cases simultaneously was definitely tiring, and it was starting to show on your face. On one hand, multiple crimes are occurring in Raccoon City, all of them involving people from high society: CEOs, ex-presidents, and candidates. Idle good-for-nothing people who can wipe their asses with a one hundred dollar bill, to put it simply.

Difficult to deal with was an understatement. Everyone at the police station knew one thing though— someone important is leaking information. This said individual doesn’t want to get their hands dirty with blood. Acting like a vendetta, in the darkness, they are cleaning the government in a way.

However, the catch of this case was rather sui generis—not even decipherable. Corruption was the root of all problems and it even showed in various scenes of the crime. Politicians were found dead in certain ways that didn’t match up with their own lifestyles. Suicides, disappearances, homicides without a murder weapon. Someone important must be behind all of this and those victims were merely their pawns.

And on the other hand, a case that seems to get more sinister and fucked up was brimming in the shadows. One that also involved those who justice can’t reach. Besides politicians disappearing, numerous citizens were also missing without a trace. Families were left alone without their breadwinning fathers, without their nurturing mothers, and especially without their loved ones.

The government’s reputation was unmistakable, they didn’t care. Protests were organized without any response or reassurance that a solution would be provided. And then again, the damnation and torment of those who searched through hell and earth was once again brought to them.

Without further ado, you walked out of the police department and embarked on the fantastic journey of seeing another dead body. Not the best sight to see after having your lunch but if you don't go, no one else will. 

You arrived at the scene of the crime and luckily, you didn’t run into any reporters, word hadn’t reached them yet. You showed your ID to the cops that surround the apartment complex, they let you in.

The excruciating silence as you wait in the elevator was always agonizing. It allowed your mind to create the most gut wrenching scenarios. You’re a veteran at this point, you have seen 10 dead politicians over the course of the months. However, it doesn’t get any easier.

The first thing that welcomed you as the door of the elevators opened again was the metallic smell of blood. With a deep breath, you fixed your hair and expected the worst. 

“Good morning everyone.” Your voice rang through the living room of the apartment. There was no trace of violence or self defense, but the rancid reek continued filling your nostrils. Nonetheless, the authority in your voice never faltered, you simply didn’t allow it.

Acting tough was the norm and giving no shit about anyone was the rule that followed. It’s always been like that. You can’t crack jokes or show a smile just like your male superiors can. Bullshit, you thought. People love saying that the 80s are the best, but everyone is fucking misogynistic. 

When you saw that your team had your attention, you proceeded. “Where’s the body?”

“Inside.” A cop said. He was a veteran, the wrinkles forming around his eyes and the one-word phrase told you as much. “There’s a federal agent there, though.”

A federal agent?

It was a matter of time before the government decided to send one of its people. They should have after the first one. But as you already know, they’re scavengers, they don’t give a damn about the country nor themselves. If the death of a candidate could bring more votes to another party, they would close their eyes for the sake of it. 

“Anything I may know before going inside?” You ask. 

“Nothing much. The state of the body is the same as the ones we have found before.” The dull and repetitive tone of his voice was proof of how everyone was getting frustrated with this case. “Although this one really looks like a suicide.”

Interesting, a politician who actually killed himself instead of being killed.

“Thank you.” Your legs worked on their own and strode off to where the body was. The main bedroom. For a moment, you hesitated to turn the knob around. Your eyes were fixated on your red nails —the same color you’re expected to see once you enter the room.

And you were right, your gaze which was now looking at the floor only witnessed the ruby red color that painted the rug. And, as your eyes traveled, you observed the man who was lying lifeless on the floor. 

Your eyes then stopped when you noticed the man who had his back facing you. 5'10 inches with dirty blond hair, black leather jacket that hugged his figure just right. Undoubtedly, the build of an agent yet you couldn’t care less about his appearance right now.

Clearing your throat, you made your presence known. Even though a part of you believed that this man must have heard you as soon as you entered the scene of the crime. 

He turned around and you could see the solemn expression that soon turned into a polite smile. So, the blue-eyed male that was in front of you was the federal agent the government has sent? Interesting.

“Hello. You may be the leading detective of this case, right?” There is no accent in his voice nor a belittling hint in his speech. You were used to being questioned about your position or straight up told not to waste time before you could even identify yourself.

“Indeed.” You nodded before stepping closer and showing him your badge which had your name and occupation there. There’s a moment of silence before Leon speaks again, with a faint smile on his lips. 

“Kennedy. Leon Kennedy.” He stated his name, a muffled chuckle leaving after his phrase. 

At first, you remained expressionless, not expecting this stoic ‘professional’ to introduce himself in a rather comical way. Not when there’s a dead body lying at his feet.

“What are you? James Bond?” You were genuinely dumbfounded. 

“Do I look the part?” He had a hand on his hip, casually standing in front of you. If audacity and lack of decorum had a name, it would have Leon written at the top of a dictionary. “I'd call myself hilarious, though.”

“Kinda goofy, I'd say.” You retorted, walking past him and looking through your pockets to pull out a pair of gloves, the sound of latex being stretched followed your answer. This part was always the hardest, even when the body has been already inspected by the team of criminalists, you ought to re-check.

“Let's keep it at funny.” His eyes darted to where your figure was, the scent of your perfume couldn’t override the constant smell of blood but he could sense the faint aroma of coconut and vanilla.

"So... the government sent you?" You adjusted your gloves as your eyes locked on Leon's. His blue eyes were piercing yet they weren't threatening.

"Yup." Leon crossed his arms as he continued watching you. "Kinda late, I'd say. Mr Clark was... the eighth victim?"

"The eleventh." You corrected him.

"Damn, they keep falling like dominoes."

You crouch down to inspect the body, there’s nothing visibly new compared to the other subjects of the crime. Lifeless eyes, and a nasty open wound on his forehead which resembled a shot. But other than that? Nothing much. 

“Agent Kennedy, I don't think you're being professional.” You absentmindedly trailed off as you checked the candidate’s finger, paying close attention to his nails. Just in case this wasn’t a suicide case and there was DNA left in the victim’s nails.

“You're right.” He shrugged off as he sighed. He had done his part of the job before you arrived, so his presence was no longer required there. However, he stayed. “But then again, do you truly care for that asshole?”

Your ears perked at Leon’s sudden question. Sure, your disdain for politicians wasn’t exactly a secret. Everyone at the station knew about your hatred for the rich. But needless to say, you weren’t expecting the government’s boy to speak in such a manner.

Nor did you anticipate that he knew about you. 

“Careful. Aren’t you supposed to be an agent?” Your demeanor slightly shifted into a more serious one. One that warned him he shouldn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. And while you were a rightful civilian who actually wanted to restore peace in the city. If this rumor reached the newspaper, it would be the end for you.

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m fond of them.” And Leon wasn’t dumb, not at all. He caught the meaning behind those simple yet blunt words. “Or are you going to tell me you like working for your boss?” 

“I’m the boss here.” Your expression quickly turned sour as Leon expressed his own opinions. You just noticed the tick of a clock, a persistent noise that only served to highlight the already growing tension.

See, you weren’t a bland person, far from that. You appreciate jokes and even engage in light-hearted teasing with your friends. Not with colleagues.

But at that moment, antics and pranks weren’t something you easily accepted. Living to be compared to men who were incapable next to you built walls that made it impossible to reach your core, to your true self.

“See? Maybe your subordinates don’t like you.” 

“You should learn when to stop biting, Mr Kennedy.” 

Leon just laughed and shook his head. His eyes stopped being focused on yours and decided to gaze through the large window the room had. The perfect view of the city was in front of him, a perfectly corrupted place.

A welcoming silence—after their awkward banter— set in. You took this opportunity to ask for more information related to the dead candidate. As you let go of his hand, you got up and took off your gloves.

“So… Agent, any background information the now deceased may have?”

“Besides the obvious? Not really.” A sigh slipped from the blue-eyed man. “He had a beautiful wife and beautiful kids. The white picket fence kind of life.”

“Minus the obvious opulent lifestyle he had.” You said.

“Minus the obvious opulent lifestyle he had, indeed.” Leon replies in tandem. 

He shook his head, letting out a sigh you didn’t know he was holding. A headache was already brewing and you simply massaged your temples. The sensation of running in circles was once again setting and penetrating your mindset—there’s no clue to even pinpoint the cause of so many crimes.

“There’s nothing else here. Maybe your coworkers have something you could work with?”

And while you felt frustrated for not being able to do more, you let your irritation die down as you nodded.

As both of you exited the scene of the crime, flashing lights and camera shutters could be heard around the building as if they were annoying bugs that wouldn’t stop bothering you. Mosquitoes sucking the blood out of your systems.

Between noises and judging stares from the journalists, Leon’s stride led him to his bike that was just parked in front of your car. As you could already guess, the lenses of the cameras were getting the perfect take for tomorrow’s diary, especially since people love to read about the woman of the year being close to a man. To assert their sexist stance. 

“Hey,” Leon called you, his voice barely audible as the constant background noise was still pretty much present. “Take this with you.”

A confused expression set on your face as you eyed the manila envelope Leon gave you. Before you could even open it to inspect what documents were in front of you, Leon’s voice stopped you.

“I don’t think it’d be wise of you to open that here.” Your attention returned to the blond man who was now putting on his helmet. Immediately, you pressed the folder against your chest, protecting the contents inside of it.

“What's it?” 

“You’ll know later.” His hands gripped the handlebars, already turning on the engines. “For now, don’t do anything stupid.”

Haunted by the plethora of degrading terms you were called, your first instinct was to roll your eyes as you watched the agent driving away from the building and from the horde of journalists. 

Nonetheless, a part of you couldn’t help but read between the lines. Leon hasn’t been particularly cruel to you like every other cop or colleague. So, his statement could be related to what’s inside the folder.

For now, you simply walked towards your car. Or rather, tried. Ready to be cornered by the starved media while cops attempted to serve as a protective wall around you.

Who am I if not exploited, abused, and corrupted?

A question that used to haunt Leon’s dreams and nightmares. His life purpose has been nothing but being the Government's puppet. Images and memories of being exploited and destroyed build up the man he is now.

Or rather, the beast.

In the search of the ultimate soldier, who would fight against every adversity. A creature that didn’t belong to this world was created. The once human could no longer be classified as one, and he gained the name of a vampire.

His hunger for food was replaced by a maddening and unbearable desire for the vital fluid of blood and his right to die was robbed from him as numerous experiments proved that, in fact, no human weapon could kill him now. 

Leon’s spirit was bonded to eternity therefore dying meant nothing to him. He doesn’t belong to life since his humanity was stripped away from him the moment he sold his soul to the nation. But death didn’t want him either, since now mortality runs away from him as the monster he has become.

It was a statement he grew accustomed to. The world was cruel and he was reduced to a simple and mere battle machine. The best weapon the nation had.

Although, he knew he was far from being the best arsenal the government could come up with.

They were greedy. It's always been that way. And the moment the disappearances started, Leon's nature was once again brought to the surface.

It all started when he once switched to a News Channel. The slow and grim music was playing in the background as the headline read: NEWS REPORT: FATHER OF TWO IS MISSING. Followed by another update that indicated he was the third man who has disappeared in May. 

No hell could be hot enough for whoever was behind all of this. However, Leon was terribly sure that this case wasn’t something orchestrated by just one individual. The anger he had so deeply buried now flourished as a flower. Yet this time it came with thorns that would cut and stab those who wished nothing but to set the world in despair.

He didn’t wait. If he stood still more innocent people would pay the price of being victims of the same destiny he faced. 

— August 14, 1987 —

Mr Clark,

I send my most sincere congratulations to you as I’ve come to know that you’re people’s favorite candidate. I’m so sure your image must be impeccable and flawless to reach such level of popularity. 

However, It’s so strange to me that as a public figure, you condemn those corrupted politicians who indulge in nothing but richness, crime, and sinful activities when your past (and present) does nothing but stain your image. 

But, I’m a generous individual. I’ll give you two options which you can choose from. You come out clean, show everyone the type of sick criminal you are or, you simply end your life. Easy, right?

After all, you didn’t hesitate to end someone else’s.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader

[hwaightme]

Family for Hire (Ch3.5)

(family for hire ml) -> blurb and general tags in series ml

☀️ pairing: single dad!seonghwa x business woman!reader ☀️ genre: romance, family, domestic, fake marriage, slice of life ☀️ ch. summary: adult to adult conversation should be easy, except when it is with someone who you are definitely not indifferent about, and who you had just spent a family-style day with. what will a conversation under the stars bring? ☀️ ch. wordcount: 5.3k ☀️ ch. warnings/tags: language, hwa being tactless, late night stargazing, banana milk hours, some mysterious texts, implied past family issues, fears, children, mixed up feelings, lmk if anything else! ☀️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ☀️ series taglist: @yunnierights @moniesmoon @jackinmyarea @hwalysm @sankatchu @hijeongguk @likexaxdaydream @treasure-hwa @paralumanniluna @naiify @dementedaly @lilactangerine @ameliaag1117 ☀️ a/n: Hello there! big hugs and much love, hope you enjoy this chapter~ (p.s.: who else will never recover after the hwa madrid live? xD)

Chapter 3.5: Starting Something

After dinner, much of the time was spent with you three chatting away, until Nari, who was sat between you on the couch had begun to doze off and knock either into your or Seonghwa’s side. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, with a sleepy Nari who was clinging onto his neck in his arms, you fished a long-forgotten phone out of your pocket. You saw that you had a few texts from Yunho, which clearly showed his progression from worry to 'don't have too much fun' with a series of wink emojis, making you roll your eyes. If only he knew what kind of a battlefield being in a closed space with a toddler was - even when said child's parent was the most attentive being you swore you had ever met and the little girl turned out to be infinitely precious - unpredictable and blunt, but still a wonder.

In addition to the cheeky messages, there were of course the classic out of hours work emails, which you, on any other day, would have probably gotten to answering that instant, but it did not feel right to do. Some strange desire to be respectful of family hours that were not even yours had overtaken you, and with a swipe, you removed the notifications. Stock markets were not going to crash if you were to delay responding to a basic question about plugging in random numbers into a spreadsheet until they looked right - may the internet be ever in their favour. What had caught your attention was something else entirely. An excited, friendly greeting, followed by a rather odd request - you would not put it beyond the author of the message to be rather bold on his asks, but considering your present plans, it was less than welcome.

>> heeyyyyy Y/nnnnn boss lady~~~ quick q, can I give your number to someone??? They're cool I promise :))))

You narrowed your eyes, rereading the notification. It would not hurt to have another networking opportunity, right? Wooyoung had never provided you with a faulty connection before, with some even having led to obtaining a new loyal client for the company, and others, like a certain Choi San, having become a reliable source of information, both in business, and in socials. But there was something almost unnatural about how he had approached the matter. First of all, he asked for your permission to send your contact, which is something that he had never done before, and you had never expected him to. Second of all, what was the promise for? Was it necessary? Since when was coolness a measure of influence that one had if all that was to come out of your communications was a new to connection on a professional site? A deep frown had etched itself onto your face as you took a screenshot of the message to send to Yunho for evaluation. An uncomfortable fuzziness occupied your head, and you could not help but want to stop thinking altogether. At least about people.

"Hey, Nari's all tucked in and dozing off... so... oh sorry, am I-" Seonghwa froze in the middle of the living room, which still bore a couple of signs of playtime chaos. He had wanted to take a seat beside you at the kitchen island that served to separate the two conjoined zones of the house’s base floor but refrained once he saw you glowering at the screen of your phone.

"No, no, I am just, uh, you know how compliance people are, email after email from them and nothing concrete." You were quick to brush off the suspicious message, wanting to feel confident that it was nothing important and was just Wooyoung being Wooyoung ‘in the best way possible’, also known as him having the spirit, but going about making good things happen in a very roundabout way. The last thing you could possibly wish for at this fragile moment at the beginning of your grand scheme was any kind of social disturbance.

“Here’s to you saying you wanted to do that back in first year!” Seonghwa chuckled and made a cheers motion with his hand in the air, manoeuvring around you to head into the kitchen.

“Yep… and now I am arguing with them basically every week, they really should learn to elaborate and explain…” you commented vaguely, choosing to not spend any longer on the peculiar message, closing the matter by tapping out a question mark and sending it to Wooyoung, followed by your trusty switch to ‘do not disturb’. You would rather have your attention on the dark-haired man next to you, who was currently appearing to look for Narnia inside of the refrigerator.

“And not email you on the weekends. That’s a crime. Milk?” he agreed and reappeared with two familiar plastic bottles, one in either hand.

“You have banana milk?” the surprise on your face was evidently clear enough for Seonghwa to be entertained, as he was motivated to continue.

“You know it. This is how dads get lit, I’ll have you know.”

“Wild and absolutely radical. How do you live like that?”

“Live fast. Here,” he passed the drink to you, pointing out the attached straw, “let’s go on the front porch, the neighbourhood is really nice at night.”

He was not lying about it being ‘nice’ - the term appearing to be a Park family favourite. In fact, it was much more than that. Perhaps picturesque or idyllic would be the right word. Sleepy houses under a blanket of a deep navy blanket, decorated with bright glittering stars, and not a cloud to remove the illusion of it being endless. Seonghwa had insisted that you wore your blazer again, while he had tugged on a zip up hoodie, insisting that this was so you would not get cold and scolding you when you initially had said that ‘it was no big deal'. Though now, you could not be more grateful for the well-meaning nagging as the chilly evening breeze caressed exposed skin, and you pulled the piece of clothing tighter around you.

When was the last time you and Seonghwa had shared a moment, any moment, alone together? Oh, that was right. You bit your lower lip, accidentally having retraced your memories. Now that you were more or less aware of his side of the story with regards to the confession, and it was easy enough to process; the opportunity was there to forget one entry in the series of misfortunes. However, prior to this final cry, there had been a build-up of occurrences in your life that had led you to grow more desperate, and, whilst you hated to admit it due to your work-pride you had cultivated, grow lonelier. And this build up was not something you would be capable of neither erasing, nor revealing any time soon. In hindsight, Seonghwa’s rejection could had been a better choice for the past you, too.

At least now, with a steadier foot on the ground as both of you began to walk your paths, you were able to enjoy their crossing. And now, as you were peering out beyond the refurbished fence gate and well taken care of greenery, you caught yourself wishing that your experiences and the years of being strangers would not weigh down so heavily on you. You had an inkling that perhaps that was why you could only register today as a billow of emotion – challenge, after challenge, and generally, not something you pondered at all. At best you thought you would just shake hands with Seonghwa, agree on terms and conditions, and be done with it. But here he was, welcoming you into his space, his life.

“This is all… a little crazy, isn’t it?” the question was a natural conclusion to your internal blur, which you physically accentuated with a particularly sharp stab of the milk’s metal film that served as a lid.

“I’ll be honest, for me this is the first ‘crazy' in a long time that isn’t about getting shots, bed times, or proving to strangers that no, I am not ‘some dude’, I am actually Nari’s father. So, if you were wondering why I even agreed in the first place... I guess part of it is that."

Seonghwa informed and lowered himself to occupy the space beside you. 'Part of it', huh. Keeping his secrets, then. The lamp above you flickered a couple of times, though upon closer inspection, with you tilting your head back and resting on your free hand, it was a small group of moths dancing around the illumination. As soon as your partner sat down, you reached out and offered to clink bottles, which he readily accepted with a shy smile.

“Wait, they do that?” after taking a sip through the tiny straw, you inquired. Seonghwa squinted, confused as to what part of the discussion you were referring to.

“What?”

“Like, strangers… asking you-”

“Ah, yeah. It has happened a couple of times. Not so much around the neighbourhood, since people know my daughter and I, but outside…” he trailed off, not knowing whether you would be interested to hear about his experience. Since you had proposed this family deal in a more business manner, he was not sure where that ended and relations that were too personal began.

“…outside?” you urged him on, eyebrows knitted, and concern growing clearer on your face by the second. 

“We went to a playground out in the centre once, by the Han river, and this one lady with a pram and a kid, about Nari’s age, right by her side decided that it would be a good idea to ask my own daughter: ‘is that really your dad?’.”

“No way…” you uttered, growing irritated at the well-meaning, but insensitive action, “Do people like that exist?”

“Yeah-”

“So, what did you answer?” you hoped that at least a sliver of university-Seonghwa had remained for that; alas, there was not a trace.

“I just left. Calmed down Nari and left.” he elaborated. What could have he done, anyways? He understood why the woman had been concerned, and it was not the question itself that had internally set him off, but the fact that she had approached his daughter to ask it.

“Fair, but I want to find that mother now and see how she is doing. Just want to talk.” you hissed, pinching some of the grain that had eroded away from the steps on which you were sitting, rolling it between your fingers before angrily flicking it away.

“Ominous.”

“Just talking.”

“You verbally throw hands, Y/N, that much I can remember.” he retorted, with an out of place fondness, not dissimilar to how one would look over a photo album and reminisce.

“Verbal cosmetic surgery, Hwa, it can be more than helpful sometimes. Though honestly she should go get her eyes checked instead if she can't see the likeness." You concluded, taking another sip and looking up at the starry night sky. Now this was something you could get used to, instead of the fine dust particles that slammed against your nearly always closed windows.

A warmth spread over Seonghwa as he listened to you. It was not the first time he had heard about Nari being a mini version of him, but the first time he wanted to ask for an elaboration. In addition to that, you had used his nickname, which he did not realise he had been missing hearing as much as he actually did. Not finding any reason to filter his amiability, he inquired into what you meant.

"What exactly?"

 "Oh, come on, it's easier to say what isn't." You retorted, feeling Seonghwa's gaze on you.

"No, really."

You were not sure why exactly he was so bent on hearing you list off random features that had stood out to you but were too tired to resist what probably was just standard father behaviour.

"Well, there's the eyes, of course." You began, imagining the two faces as if they were drawings set out in front of you.

"No way." He intentionally disagreed, biting back a cheeky grin as he saw you scowl and raise an eyebrow, still trained on something invisible ahead of you.

"Yes way!"

"How can you say when you're not even looking at me?"

"How can I say when Nari is in bed, asleep?" You shot back, finally turning to face him, almost gasping because of the intensity with which the man was openly gawking at you. The movement, however, appeared to break his boldness as he lowered his head and glanced at his Crocs - as he had explained, they were the most effective footwear to put on if one needed to pop out of the house for a short while, but you were sold when you saw the Star Wars themed decorations on both pairs which he had presented. So very Seonghwa - some things did remain.

"Fair point... but still, for reference." Barely a mumble reached your ears, but you preferred it, for the sake of your own heart. It did not overpower your strict convictions by volume.

"Right then, mister hypocrisy, the side profile of your singular sensory organ that is reactive to visible light, and your daughter's looks pretty similar if I do say so myself." You deadpanned, listing off what little you could remember from secondary school biology.

Seonghwa nearly choked on his milk, making it bubble as he snorted in response to your unexpected observation. Your hand instinctively moved to pat his back but retracted as he raised his own to show he was alright. Quickly enough the cough was replaced by a chuckle, utterly confusing you.

"Don't mean to be that person, but what's so funny?"

"Ahem, just thought of something totally tactless, don't mind me." He elaborated, mumbling.

"Okay impress me."

"No, no, it's fine."

"If it's a dad joke, I'll just give you an imaginary gold star.”

"Seems, I," he lightly punched his chest a couple of times to get the last of the fit out, "lose my breath around you." You erupted into a loud groan and demonstrative rolling of the eyes, secretly loving the phrase, and how Seonghwa's ears burned up into a bright pink.

"Damn, thanks for the warning, otherwise I would have lost my breath."

You did not think much about what you had said, considering the sentence to be innocent enough and far removed from emotional involvement, however it appeared that Seonghwa was on a roll, or lacking in oxygen as he followed up with a total breach of reason, forcing you to put physical effort into restraining yourself from destroying the plastic bottle with an untimely hand crush.

"Lost mouth to mouth opportunity...” 

"NOW MISTER PARK SEONGHWA THAT IS ILLEGAL." You squeaked, unsure of how to handle Seonghwa suddenly leaning closer to you, looking you up and down asking:

"What, conflict of interest for our little business deal?"

You were lost for words, so automatically fell back on highly effective defence tactics:

"What if someone was saying that to your daughter, hm?"

Whatever he wanted to say was lost to his dominating creativity. You observed his expression turn sour as he visualized the scene, but with Nari in the starring role. A good dad, through and through, after all.

He need not explain himself, though to reassure Seonghwa that you meant well and this was lighthearted, you gave him a quick squeeze on his lower arm. In acceptance, he covered your hand with his, keeping it there for as long as he could. It was still a challenge to process that what was happening was real, and not a vivid dream. The day was a journey through time, making him realise just how much his life had changed and took a radically different turn compared to his peers. In all honesty, he had never expected to have any ability to return even a tiny fraction of that reality, and chose to assume that with his new role as a father, he had no right to reminisce. Especially at the beginning, that was almost true - he had no time to think, let alone take steps into the past. But now, when his regrets of his past had transformed into his present opportunities, Seonghwa felt like something in him had woken up after an impossibly long hibernation. If only every tomorrow that was to come, were to be like this.

"Ahem, okay, okay. So, uh, you said eyes? What else?" He tried to return to the previous conversation, and thankfully, you were equally as eager to move on from the unexpected moment of toeing a line that had been drawn by the years and uncertainty.

"There's the nose shape... at least the baby version of it if you get what I mean."

"Definitely would be strange to have an adult nose on a kid's face, yes." Seonghwa agreed, tapping his nose a couple of times for emphasis.

"I am glad we are on the same page there."

"And, what else?"

"Eyebrows for days, oh! And your smiles. Congratulations to her for winning the genetic lottery." You wondered whether the phrase was too much, but Seonghwa's proud grin dissipated your concerns.

"I'll save that for when she is a teen so I can remind her. "

"Oh yeah... that's going to be a thing..." you mused out loud, failing to conceal a twinge of pity as you recalled your own adolescence: not particularly enjoyable for any parties involved.

"Yep. Barely out of the woods ourselves, huh?"

"Yeah... but I think you'll handle it. Of course, I don't have much data to go off, but my first impression is that you are... you are doing a good job, Hwa." 

"Thanks... though, Y/N... can I be frank?"

"Yeah, Frank and Frederick and Ferdinand." Mainly for the sake of lightening the mood, you threw out the random garble.

"I am winging it so hard it is unbelievable. And unacceptable."

A regular occurrence for everyone - for as long as one is alive, they continue to learn, absorb the world and patterns around them until they create what is called an identity, and then keep growing the embellishments. Simultaneously, Seonghwa sounded anxious, possibly wishing that he was a parenting pro from the get-go. As someone who had to reevaluate all priorities and step into a caring role, it was an unfortunate side effect of doing things objectively right, to feel as though the best, the real way to address one's kid's needs was always just out of reach.

"Same."

It was a struggle to fully relate, but that did not mean that you would stop trying, if at least for your own benefit. With all your might you tried to conjure an analogy, but the only thing to come close was standard perfectionism and religiously abiding by deadlines. Enough to say 'same'.

"Would have never guessed that was the case." Seonghwa, ever so supportive, despite the fact that you were, unknowingly making him regretful of his sudden career change. 

You seemed to be doing well enough, and if the few years of intensive corporate grind had not made your drive and opportunity-seeking nature fizzle out, then combining family and a better paid and degree-based job would not be a problem. Some kindergartens he had considered had extended hours on offer for kids of working parents, with pickup times being later after work; had he gone down that route, he would not be suffering the judgmental gazes of the other kids’ mothers who likely assumed the was an unemployed leech. Admittedly, he had felt a certain level of satisfaction when observing the stunned crowd as your very obviously expensive car rolled into the parking lot to pick up Nari from the activity centre, especially since many of the kids, and thus the parents, were connected to the same school.

He wondered how quickly would rumours spread, and could already imagine himself wearing a satisfied grin as he… technically he could not say anything, could he? Since this was all an elaborate plan and would be over at some point? Well then, he would just have to remain mysterious and let the gaggle come to their own interpretations after seeing an attractive young woman step out from the driver’s side, stylishly dressed in Forbes-chique, and carrying herself like you knew what the future held. In other words, you could threaten them, with a confidence which he could not find within himself.

"Same. You are a natural." You returned the kind words, wishing that it was not such a hard feat for you to do. Conveying numerical fact and artistic white lies was easy enough, but sourcing feelings from the bottom of your heart… problematic.

"If only I felt that way too..."

"Then maybe you would be less careful and therefore less of an amazing dad. It kind of reminds me of the interns at work - the more confident they are, the more likely they are to commit an error." You gave Seonghwa a light pat on his upper arm as you attempted, in your own special say, to comfort him.

"Are you saying people should have low confidence and self-esteem?"

"No, what I am saying is that unshakeable confidence that is beneficial to a person is one that is built through experience. Many, many years of it. I bet you know the car thing." Anything to make the topic relatable to you; you were searching once more for any way to remove yourself from the concept of family, make it more 'user friendly', but this only served to add to the confusion.

"Car thing?”

"You know, the whole thing about some of the most reckless drivers being those who already have a license, have driven just enough to think they are the shit - so like, one or two years, and then... get to experience the joys of insurance, in the best-case scenario."

"Hah, noted. So, basically, stay alert."

"Guess so, but with a kid a lot of it is just a constant learning journey, isn't it?"

"Yep, just people constantly figuring things out. From fees to Nari suddenly not liking a food she was obsessed with for a year to her wanting to try doing something independently when we are running late..."

"You have the patience of a saint, Hwa."

"Job requirement, no?"

"I wish it was."

Silence fell over the two of you as you let the phrase slip. Seonghwa was not sure about how to respond, and you were not sure how to change the topic of conversation without making it sound too jarring.

It was obvious that your mind had gone elsewhere, miles, or perhaps it was more correct to say decades, from the conversation. You were looking inwards, searching for something, trying to clamber up your barriers. But it appeared to be a fruitless venture, as you repeatedly tried to start a sentence, words on the tip of your tongue, only for it to go dry and sabotage you at the last second. This turn of the discussion had striken a dissonant chord with you. Even though Seonghwa would not dare begin to guess why, he knew that it was essential he lightened the mood. It just felt right.

"Then you would be walking on thin ice, Y/N." He leaned over and whispered into your ear, beaming.

"Hey! I'll have you know I am a professional!"

"Yeah, yeah... sure. I have no doubt your market forecasting capabilities."

"Backhanded, but I'll take the compliment... you're right, not with kids." You huffed and took one final slurp of your drink. Compared to your relative optimism a couple of days ago, you could only perceive yourself as a trainwreck.

"I am only joking though, I think you have some talent. You say that but at the same time, Nari really took to you. I can see it. What we have to work on is you not getting jump-scared by everything she does and relax. We will help each other. We're husband and wife after all."

The phrase made you freeze in place. Right. That was exactly what you had signed up for. That title so you could flex it in front of your colleagues, and most importantly your bosses so that you would have a shot at bigger money, bigger dreams. Was this fair on Nari? Was this fair on Seonghwa?

You hummed in half-hearted agreement, tuning into the atmosphere surrounding you and Seonghwa. A myriad of questions glimmering above you like the stars dotting the sky. Constellations of misconceptions and miscommunications that were yet to be put right, or learned to be ignored for the better of you both. As you felt the presence beside you lean forward and sigh, breath abandoned to an infinite expanse of anxieties and hushed ruminations, a morbid curiosity began to plague you. Was it too late to do anything? What was it that you were actually trying to achieve here? Was a promotion the result, or the pretense? You rubbed your temples, with your inner wrists, disconcerted by the audacity which your inner conscious seemed to have. If you had said: goal, it meant goal. Funny how you needed to remind yourself of it, even if you had deemed it so important.

After a few more minutes of staring out into the dark, in silence that was filled only by the rustling of the tree leaves, you felt that it was time to leave, if you wanted to remain level-headed and prepared for an interrogation from Yunho. With a stretch, you pushed yourself off the steps and wobbled into a standing position, much to Seonghwa's surprise. Though that did not last long, and his face relaxed in recognition. Turning back, you were about to pick up the empty bottle, but he quickly intercepted, not giving you as much as a chance, only mumbling 'I've got it, don't worry' on repeat.

"But I feel like I have not done anything to help you today?"

"There will be tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. Don't worry, if you want your hands full, I can organise that pretty fast."

"No doubts about that. Once events coordinator, always events coordinator, right?"

"Absolutely. And organising a bunch of frat bros is a very good parent prep experience, I’ll tell you that one for free."

"Welp, I hope I won't be as much trouble..."

"I'm not too worried for the beginning, it's once you get comfortable..."

"Right, okay, same rule applies to me then: stay alert."

"In a meerkat fashion." With astonishing speed, Seonghwa rocked forwards and stood up beside you, running a hand through his locks to smooth them down after being rashly disheveled. Then to imitate the furry animal, he bent his arms at the elbow and wrist, earning an amused chuckle from you, along with a grin which you hid behind a closed hand, with a knuckle pressed to your lips.

“And to think you’re a grown man with a kid.”

“To be a good parent, you need to be a little bit like a kid, Y/N. Not through and through, but a smidgen is enough.” When you did not answer, he added more encouragement, hoping that his promises were significant enough to leave a positive effect on you.

Seonghwa would not want to admit it to you just yet, seeing how you were still adamant on abiding by business restrictions, albeit loosely, but throughout the day, he was hesitant to treat your appearance as something temporary. Ignoring time restrictions, he had indulged in fantasies of ‘what could be’ if you were to stay even for just a bit longer. But that was only natural to do after meeting someone from the past, right? To add, he did not want to regret his decision to introduce you to Nari, and Nari to you. If you two were to bond, and then you would take your leave… Seonghwa would never be able to forgive himself for letting you into the little circle he called family. The signs were already there, of his daughter quickly warming up to you, and it was only a matter of time until the point of no return would be reached.

You had heard of the notion that Seonghwa was explaining to you before this – to understand a child you needed to have an ability to tap into an inner child, a healthy, happy and nurtured one, that was. That was where your comprehension stopped, and you had previously ceased to bother. But now, as you were about to part with today and step into tomorrow as a changed woman, you guessed that this might be something worth learning. So long as you could sustain the belief that this was for a role than a calling.

“Right, so, um… I better get going… it’s getting kind of late…” you cleared your throat and announced, stumbling over your words slightly as Seonghwa would not take his eyes off you, following all your gesticulations and reading nuance.

“You sure? I can organise something for you here, so you don’t have to travel. I’d be more than happy to.”

“See, I have this thing tomorrow, and um, before that need to, you know, do some human things and uh, change and stuff…” your rambling did little to make you appear convincing, but Seonghwa was kind enough to not inquire further – you were sure that if he did, you would have cracked. When it came to him, you had always struggled to make up excuses and fables, even if sometimes that could have saved both of you from hurt.

“Okay.” What was new in your dynamic was how accepting and empathic Seonghwa had become. Or who knew, maybe he had always been that way, but in university had tried to hide himself away in the effort to appear ‘cool’.

In a spur of guilt as you followed Seonghwa back into the house to fetch your shoes, you spontaneously offered to drive him and his daughter to kindergarten on Monday morning. You could see the young man hiding his reaction from you by appearing busy.

“And what makes you think we couldn’t find a place in the local one?”

“Because the activity centre was hell knows where?”

“Fair point. And you’re right, kindergarten is equally far, so I’ll gladly take you up on that offer.” He agreed, and provided you the details of timings, and promised to send you the address.

Fumbling for a way to say goodbye, Seonghwa and you stood on either side of the doorframe, knowing that this should not be as hard as you were making it out to be. It was only once you recalled the message you had received sometime earlier that you quickly made your exit, acutely aware of his gaze trailing your journey away from the front porch to the fence, and disappearing behind the bushes. For some time after, he remained in the same place, letting himself come down from the paradise he had invented as slowly as he could, to return to functioning as a single, independent unit, at least until the dangerous play pretend were to continue on the early Monday morning.

Heart beating wildly, you crashed into the front seat of your car and sank deep until you were half lying down and able to look up at the sky. Not that the action helped distract you. Your mind was struggling to process why you were so on edge, and you desperately wanted to replace the sensation with the usual emotional numbness you associated with the concept of familial closeness. What was happening to you? You reached for your phone again, switching the mode back to see more texts flooding in both from your best friend and from Wooyoung. And the implied meaning of messages from the latter were everything but what you needed.

#ateezlovenet #k-labels #seonghwa x reader #park seoghwa x reader #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa x y/n #hwaightme #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez au #kpop writers #ateez wooyoung #kpop writing #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #kim hongjoong #ateez domestic #ateez series #jung wooyoung #hm/family for hire

[firecoloredwater]

Fic authors self rec!

Oh boy I've been tagged twice now, by @planeoftheeclectic and @denialcity. Thank you both!

(And uh, since I somehow didn't actually get notifications for either of those and just noticed while scrolling, if anyone else has tagged me in... anything, really, and I didn't respond, sorry about that! Tumblr is being tumblr apparently.)

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass this onto other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Going to tag uhhhh @domoz @asukaskerian and uhhh what's a people I've never met a people in my life. what's a tag. I'll go shake discord a bit and come back with more tags in a reblog probably.

Fics!

These are... not in any particular order of preference, I will just make question marks for a year if I try to sort them that way, so this is just the order I grabbed the links in. Which means newest to oldest.

1: Roots Grow Up - Naruto (Founders)

I still don't like the title, but I like basically everything else in this fic (including one detail I've decided on but not posted yet so... can't say). I am planning to add more, but the first chapter (which is all that's posted now) stands alone pretty well, since I wasn't sure whether I'd continue it at all when I first posted it.

The premise is that Kawarama didn't die, but instead lost his memory and has been living as a civilian farmer when Hashirama and Tobirama find him, a few years after founding Konoha. 0 people were prepared for this discovery.

Summary:

It's been fifteen years since Isamu was found, badly injured and unconscious in the forest. He woke up with amnesia, but his origin was pretty obvious, so he doesn't even miss the memories. It's been fifteen years. He's grown up, earned a place in the town that took him in, and even gotten married. His not-so-mysterious past doesn't matter. Not until shinobi wander into town, anyway.

2: Blessed Sacrifice AU - Naruto (Founders)

Cowritten with @codedredalert aka @denialcity, on hiatus while we both deal with Life, but there's a large and excellent chunk up already and so many cool things planned. So many!!!

Also, turns out I REALLY LIKE cowriting. Which is kind of old news because I've been doing forum RP for a decade+, but I wasn't sure if that would translate to fic. Turns out the answer is definitely yes.

BSAU is basically taking the "red eyes blessed" trope and digging into the like... worldbuilding repercussions of that, as shown through Izuna. And also crows.

Also comes with LOTS of fantastic art from Red!

Summary:

Mythology-religion freeform AU where Tobirama is considered blessed by the gods by the Uchiha, but they still need to deal with him as an enemy, so Izuna is ritually disowned from the Uchiha and given a special role responsible for protecting/fighting him.

3: Somebody Else's Dream - Girl Genius

Written as a gift for khilari! I can't remember what the exact prompt was, but I ended up writing an elaboration on the canon detail that Mechanicsburg was founded when a Heterodyne decided he wanted a town, so he just had his people build one.

The main character is an OC who was kidnapped to become a non-military member of the town, and the story is about how he ends up settling in. It's a very weird balance of a "finding your place in the world" story and "this is still kidnapping actually," and I don't think it would work in most fandoms, but since Girl Genius canon is a perpetual balance of heartwarming and "wow that is somehow worse than a war crime" already, I think it worked out really well, and I'm still very proud of it.

Also I suffered over the accents in this. But it worked!

Summary:

Faustus Heterodyne wants civilians for his newly built town. What the civilians want is generally different.

4: Jager Search - Girl Genius

Also written as a gift, this time for sparkagatha. It's the future, *vague handwave* everything is resolved, the OT3 are together and Klaus has accepted that he can leave Agatha alone and the revenants are being cured, happily ever after.

...except that some of the "wild" jagers are still missing. So Agatha sets out to find them.

Not much to say really; I can see spots where I'd write it differently if I wrote it now, but that's mostly things like "would have slightly changed the characterization," not big issues, and overall it still holds up very well for being... close to eight years old.

Summary:

Most of the detached jägers heard of the Heterodyne's return and came home, but a few are still missing. Agatha learns this, and decides to fix it.

5: Didn't Dream This - Death Note

Oh if I wrote this now tumblr would annihilate me. ~Problematic~ yay!

I'm not sure I'd say this is a good fic--if I was writing it now I'd write it so differently that it just would be a different fic--but I was clearly working out something about sexuality and relationships and the stuff (not) in my head that I've ended up labeling "being aro."

Basically: Mello and Matt are straight, and they decide to be together anyway. I'm glad I wrote it, partly because I know I wouldn't think or dare to write it now.

Summary:

Mello doesn't want to die alone. Solutions can exist without working out the way anyone wants. (Psychologically intimate interaction is really a better description than romance.)

#writing #fanfic #meme

[tsukimefuku]

❅ Sand and Snow | Chapter 5

ALL CHAPTERS HERE | PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE.

In the city of Odate, Akita, there have been multiple deaths in the past few weeks. The first-grade sorcerer Nanami Kento is sent out to investigate the snowy city, not knowing that it would be his last mission as a Jujutsu High student.

OR

Why Nanami left Jujutsu High to become a 9/5 corporate slave.

Tags: Murder/mystery, canon typical violence, POV Nanami, Post Star-plasma Vessel Arc, Canon compliant, Angst but I'm not Gege

Gojo Satoru is a little shit. OC's are a dynamic duo as well. We meet the last targets and find out more about the cursed objects.

WC: 3.75K | on AO3 here.

"Shit, what the hell?" Shiori said, as she fell ass-first on the snow for the tenth time. "How are you so goddamn fast?" She had barely been able to reinforce her arms with cursed energy before he threw a high kick at her, knocking her off her feet and onto the ground. Gojo had briefly explained his techniques, but never mentioned it made him move at the speed of light or anything of the sort.

It was early in the morning. They were outside, Nanami was sitting down on the porch sipping tea peacefully, watching the whole scene, as Gojo trained Shiori on the basics in protecting herself from strikes using cursed energy. She had already demonstrated her innate cursed technique, but it was clear she had no fine control over the specifics of it — if it always had the corrosive element or not, how much cursed energy was spent, how long it took for exploding, and how strong each grenade would be. This was unexpected, considering she had a pretty good grasp on cursed energy manipulation for defending herself or even imbuing objects.

"Well, you've got a defense, and you can actually take a hit. That's good." He said, putting his hands on his waist and tilting his head to the side. "But do you know how to hit someone?"

"Not much, that was my brother's strong suit, not mine." She admitted, starting to worry if she'd survive this "training" session. Shiori wondered if he was just looking for an excuse to kick her ass for calling him 'pretty boy' earlier.

"So, let's try that. Come, hit me." He said. "Come on... Here. Here. Hit here." He pointed at his hand stretched forward, like he was talking to a five-year-old.

This dude can't be for real, Shiori thought, as she got up and punched his hand. It was a terrible, limp and poorly executed punch overall.

"I meant with cursed energy, though I don't think cursed energy could've saved whatever that was."

"Well, why didn't you say so!?" She started pouting. "Your teaching skills are terrible."

"Speaking of which, surprise quiz time!" He said. She started asking herself if it was really worth the trouble. "Question number one, what do we have for breakfast today?"

"Eh?!" She couldn't believe that. "Are you serious?!"

"Terribly." He replied.

"Well, nothing. There is nothing anymore." She said, sighing deeply.

"Precisely! And why is that?" Gojo asked, putting on a 'very serious teacher' voice.

"Because you ate everything!"

"No, wrong answer! Because you have no money for groceries and still refuse to work as a jujutsu high employee with us!"

She threw a better punch imbued with cursed energy directly at his face, hitting the infinity. "I'm poor, leave me alone!"

"Well, that's a little more like it!" Gojo said, smiling lively. "But your attacks are still half-assed as hell. You should focus on defense for now." He cleared his throat. "You know, about the food, people need potions if they want to have MANA!"

"Fine, let's go to town and buy something to eat!" She yelled, walking away, cursing Gojo under her breath.

"Why are you insisting she goes to Jujutsu High, even though her family and the institution have a terrible relationship, and after she explicitly told you she doesn't want to?" Nanami asked, putting his tea cup away.

"Well, I have a dream, and to fulfill it, I'm going to need good allies." He pointed in her direction. "Her combat skills are awful, but she's got potential as a healer. I'd like to see if she can learn reverse cursed technique from Shoko. This apparently is something that occurred more frequently in her clan, according to Ijichi's findings."

Nanami could see Gojo was brewing something. He definitely wasn't the same Satoru Gojo that failed Riko Amanai years ago — Gojo was growing into a fine sorcerer. Maybe Nanami could respect him a little, after all.

"Now, let's go, Nanamin! Did you know that pastry making is more suited for cold weather? Yes! That is why-" Gojo started blabbing about food and customs to each location, and what he wanted to eat before they left Odate. Nanami sighed as he changed his mind.

***

"Please, could you do it?" Shiori asked.

"No." Nanami replied.

"Please? Even if I promise I'll stop calling you a stalker?" She said, trying to convince him.

They were outside Odate Ryokan, and Shiori's phone was dead. She didn't want to go in to ask for Yoko to lend her some money, wanting to avoid encountering Yoko's grandmother. Nanami thought that was foolish and refused to help. Gojo was behind a wall of girls fawning over him and heard nothing of the conversation.

"I'm listening." He said.

"You just have to go inside and let her know 'her friend' is outsi-"

The hotel's door opened, and Yoko came out. "Shiori! I thought I heard your voice!" She said, as she hugged her friend.

"Yoko! Hi! I need to borrow some money!" She exclaimed, hugging Yoko back.

"Again?! And also, you're terrible, at least ask me how I'm doing first!" Yoko replied, somewhat offended.

"I'll pay you back, I promise!" Shiori said, with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, I have heard that so many times before..." Yoko replied. She finally noticed Nanami was there. "Oh, hey! I'm so sorry for what happened here at the hotel."

"I have recovered fully." He answered.

"Well... Where are you staying?! We can pay for any hotel in the area. Please, accept it as our apology."

Nanami pointed at Shiori. "At her house."

"What?!" Yoko said, incredulous, as she thought he would only be getting treatment for his wounds and wait for his colleague there. She then turned her face into a mischievous smile and approached Shiori. "So, he is sleeping at your house?"

"I'll slap you." Shiori retorted, annoyed.

Yoko chuckled. "Just teasing you." She gave Shiori a little forehead flick. 

"Hey, how about you pay me for his stay at my house?"

"Never gonna happen." Yoko said. Shiori had no talent for money making. "Uh, and what about him?" Yoko said, pointing to Gojo, that was still getting fawned over. The girl screaming around was loud.

"Hey, pretty boy, come over!" Shiori yelled. "Let's go grab something to eat."

Satoru waved, as if he was saying goodbye to his loyal fans, and moved over to meet them. The group of girls left disappointed. "So, what are we eating? I'm starving!"

"Well, there is a great bakery just around the corner that serves amazing options for breakfast!" Yoko replied. "Should we go there?"

"About that..." Shiori replied, grabbing her empty wallet.

Yoko sighed. "Fine, I'm paying for you. But only you!"

"It's ok! Pretty boy and stalker guy can foot their own bill!" Shiori said smiling, while pointing to Gojo and Nanami.

"Please, stop calling me that." Nanami said.

"Stalker?" Yoko asked, puzzled.

"Well, I can start calling you 'side bangs' if you would prefer." Shiori retorted jokingly.

"I would not." Nanami responded, irritated.

"So 'stalker' it is!" She concluded, grinning widely.

Gojo and Yoko were at a loss for what was happening.

They made their way into another restaurant, which had similar features as the previous one Shiori and Nanami had been at. They all sat at the table and placed their orders.

"So, are you two private investigators?" Yoko asked.

"Yes, they are." Shiori replied.

Yoko looked at Nanami, seemingly puzzled. "Aren't you a little too young to be investigating people dying? Also, I thought these people died because they were bitten by a venomous animal. What is the investigation?" Yoko was a very curious person, and never really thought much before speaking. It was a family trait.

"He's... The intern." Shiori answered.

"That's right! He's my promising intern looking for a position at my private investigation business." Gojo answered, putting his arm over Nanami's shoulders with a smirk on his face. Nanami sighed.

"Oh, I see." Yoko answered. "But why are private investigators looking into this, anyway?"

"One of the deceased's widowers asked us to see if there was any foul play." Nanami promptly made up on the spot. Gojo and Shiori were impressed.

"Oh. And there was?"

"We unfortunately can't disclose that information." He answered.

"Hey, Yoko, stop interrogating them." Shiori said, smiling uncomfortably. "Their work seems so stressful already, how about we talk about something else, shall we?"

Yoko was disappointed, but nodded. "It's just that nothing interesting ever happens here!"

"Yoko, 9 people died." Shiori said, stunned.

"That wasn't interesting, that was terrifying. Having private investigators around, however, is something interesting." Yoko started pouting.

"Yoko, nothing interesting happens to you because you're still in Odate working for your family with that old hag on your case." Shiori said as their food arrived. Yoko was frowning and seemed slightly offended, but knew her friend was right.

Gojo had ordered an assortment of sweets, meanwhile Nanami ordered his classic deli sandwich. Shiori and Yoko both ordered a bread basket with different types of toppings to put on. Shiori did her previous 'mix absolutely everything you can', taking a spoonful out of each topping, putting it over some toasts in a profane way and began eating the desecrated bread, eliciting the same appalled look from everyone at the table. How can she taste anything?

With her mouth full, Shiori started speaking again. "And Odate is boring, anyway. After Shiro is back, I'm going to travel. I've never been to the beach!"

"What? Noshiro is very close, like an hour and a half away from here." Gojo replied, a little incredulous.

"I know! It's just that..." Shiori sighed, embarrassed. "I'm always broke." She smiled as Yoko facepalmed.

"Shiori, why are you still in Odate?" Yoko asked. "Anyway, at least something exciting happened to you! You're fostering two good-looking men in your house."

Shiori nearly gagged. "Yoko, what the hell?!" Gojo was very pleased with himself behind his glasses, and Nanami awkwardly moved around in his seat while looking away, nearly blushing. She really had no filter.

"What?!" Yoko protested.

Shiori sighed. "Yoko, it’s not appropriate to comment on someone’s appearance to their face." She replied.

“I see no problem if it’s a compliment.” Yoko retorted, crossing her arms and lifting an eyebrow as she looked at the guys. Gojo was even more pleased, and Nanami felt even more embarrassed.

Shiori sighed yet again, and decided not to address that. "And I'm only waiting for Shiro to come back. I know he will."

Yoko looked at her with a hint of concern in her face as they all started to eat.

***

"So, what do you think we should say? The truth?" Shiori asked, as she accompanied Gojo to Ayako's house. Nanami went to see how the situation was at Miyuki's house. They got a call from Ijichi shortly after breakfast, who gave them their locations.

"Whatever will make her let us in and help." He responded. "Don't you know these people?"

"I had so many relatives. These two particularly, I don't remember, since I was very young when I stopped having any relationship with the family. My brother and I just received some financial aid from an aunt that died around 2 years ago. They might know who I am, though." She shrugged. "Even if we don't get to do anything, I believe we should tell them they're in danger and that they should go to the police for protection or something."

"Maybe, maybe not." Gojo replied.

"Why is that?" Shiori asked.

"The curse user. He's killing these people and clearly doesn't have much of an issue invading enclosed spaces. He might even be using his shikigami for that."

"I see. What do we do, then?"

"We kick his ass and take him to Jujutsu High. Or kill him." He answered. Gojo had that same menacing aura as he said that, even though his face was covered with a frivolous smile. This guy must be monstrously powerful, Shiori thought.

"And about the cursed object thing..." He started saying.

"Rescue ladies first. Find my brother second. Every information you could hope for third." She replied, fearing for her physical integrity as she did. The world was definitely lucky this guy wasn't a genocidal maniac.

He just sighed and answered "Fine." Gojo thought for a moment. "That girl, Yoko, is she a close friend?"

"Yes. She's actually my best and only friend." Shiori responded. "We've been friends since middle school, when kids used to bully me and my brother because of my family. Yoko stood up for me." She said, smiling to herself.

"I see." He answered, reminiscing his own school life and most recent events for a moment. Satoru sighed silently.

"She has a lifelong crush on my brother, even if her comments about you and Nanami didn't make it seem like it." Shiori chuckled. "Those two are really something."

Gojo laughed softly. "Your friend is definitely a little loony." He then changed his tone to something more serious. "Shiori, what will you do if your brother never comes back?" Gojo asked, looking at her directly.

"He will come back." She answered straight-up. Even if Shiori was saying that, though, she had said that so many times it started to sound fake.

"You don't know that. What if you're stuck here forever, always holding onto people who left, when you could be doing something better with your life and your abilities?" 

Shiori was silent. She knew exactly why she never left Odate, or her parents' house, for that matter, even when all of her uncles, aunts, cousins and such were going away to live their lives in other places all throughout Japan.

As they got to the door to knock, they saw the lock was bust open.

"Shit!" Shiori exclaimed. 

They both bolted inside, and saw a woman with long black hair lying on the ground over a puddle of blood. Beside her, was the already familiar wooden box, completely empty. Shiori crouched beside her to check her pulse. There were cursed energy remains all over, and some holes in the walls around, covered with a thick black corrosive substance — the same type Shiori's grenades would leave behind.

"Gojo, she's still alive!" 

When she rolled the woman's body, it was possible to see that Ayako had no bite marks on either wrist, but a deep cut in her torso area, which had just barely missed her internal organs. Shiori turned her with the stomach area up, so the blood would stop leaking to the floor, and started trying to wake her up. The woman wasn't moving.

"You, go after the one who did this!" She shouted. "I'll take care of her and call an ambulance. Go!"

Satoru ran outside and focused on trying to find someone, but the surrounding area was already empty. Nothing, not even cursed energy traces for him to follow. Given how they found Ayako, the curse user didn't use his technique this time around. He went back inside the woman's house, and saw that Shiori had already packed her wounds with some gauze she found. She was applying pressure and had the woman's blood all over her coat. 

The lady started to wake up, just barely.

"Ms. Ayako, stay with me. Stay awake!" Shiori shouted.

"Hm... Who, Itsuki?" Ayako was slowly coming back to her senses.

"No, it's Shiori."

"You... Itsuki's daughter?"

"Yes! Good to see you're awake. Stay with me." Shiori was still keeping pressure on the wounds.

"Who did this?" Shiori asked.

"Sh… Shogo…"

Shiori tensed up immediately. "Shit." She looked at Gojo. "Call Nanami."

***

Nanami knocked on Miyuki's door, and the woman promptly answered. Shiori had instructed him to use her parents' name if necessary, or even her own, to gain the woman's trust in order to help her.

"Hello, how can I help you?" she asked.

"Hello, Ms. Miyuki. My name is Nanami Kento, and I'd like to talk to you about something regarding Yamada Itsuki."

She got visibly tense and stared at him for a few moments.

"Why?"

"Her daughter, Shiori, asked me to come and see if you were fine." He replied. "And you might be in danger. You probably know about the recent deaths occurring in Odate." 

She was still very unsure about opening her door and letting him in.

Nanami's phone rang. He answered, it was Gojo.

"Gojo, I just got here at Ms. Miyuki's house."

"Tell her she is in danger, and that the culprit's name is Yamada Shogo. Ayako was hurt pretty badly and was nearly dead when we arrived here." He replied.

Nanami stared at Ms. Miyuki. "Do you know an individual by the name Yamada Shogo?"

She widened her eyes. "Yes, I do."

"Apparently, he just attacked Yamada Ayako. Do you know her?"

Miyuki's face was hard to read, but she seemed to be... angry? "Yes, I do." She inhaled deeply and closed the door. Nanami called out to her, and she simply screamed from inside the house for him to leave her alone. He sighed.

"Gojo, please ask Shiori to come." Nanami said on the phone.

"She is holding the woman in one piece here." Gojo replied.

"Hey, you just have to apply pressure. Come here!" Shiori yelled at Gojo. She grabbed the phone and started talking. "Tell me, what is going on there? Is everything ok?"

"For now, yes, but she didn't let me in. I believe it would be better if you sorted this out with your relative."

"Ok, I'll be there soon." She replied.

"What? What do I do here then?!" Gojo asked on the other side. 

"Just keep applying pressure until the ambulance arrives so she doesn't bleed out! Have you never had any basic first aid training in your life, and you're a jujutsu sorcerer?!" Shiori yelled, incredulous.

"I've never had to learn that! That is not what I do, I fight and use reverse cursed technique on myself!" Said the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer of our era.

"Well, just do something about it! Nanami, I'm on my way right now." She said as she hung up the phone. Shiori then removed her coat and left it covering Ayako's legs, trying to provide some warmth. "You will be fine, okay? I'm leaving now, but I already called an ambulance." Shiori said beside Ayako.

As she was getting up, Ayako grabbed the end of Shiori's sleeve. "You're... Itsuki's daughter?"

"Yes, I am."

"Be... careful." Ayako said.

Shiori and Gojo looked at each other, and she seemed concerned. Ayako was drifting in and out of consciousness. Shiori finally made her way out of the door.

***

"Well, this is bad." Miyuki said as she lit up a cigarette. She opened the door as soon as Shiori got there and told her everything Nanami said was true.

"You're really in danger, Miyuki." Shiori said. "We need to get you out of here as soon as possible."

Miyuki was a woman in her early 40s, with the same black hair and green eyes that Shiori had — there was a clear family resemblance. She got up, went inside her bedroom, and came out holding the same wooden box the other Yamadas had. She handed it to Shiori. "Please, take this and leave."

"Miyuki, you're not listening. If you stay, you will die, having this around or not!"

"I have my unresolved business with Shogo, though." She answered, furious. "How does he know all that, anyway? Everyone that he has to go after?"

"I don't know, but I don't think it matters." Shiori replied. "What unresolved business?"

"Do you know why he was cast out from the family?" Miyuki asked.

"No."

"Well, then. Let me tell you." She inhaled deeply. "Well, the Yamada family and the Jujutsu Society run by Tengen are not on good terms. That is because a member of the golden clans got our family's leader killed centuries ago, and Tengen thought it'd be better to just let it go instead of taking action and punishing someone. So you can imagine the disappointment we felt when Shogo was working alongside them. Worse, retrieving our cursed objects for them, right under our noses!"

Shiori and Nanami were silent, taking in the relevance of all that just had been said.

"Well, that's not all of it, though. He relayed the information about the veil realm to those little shits. So, we cast him out and had to disband the entire family." Miyuki looked at Shiori and sighed. "I never got the chance to tell you, but I'm truly sorry for your parents leaving."

"Veil realm?" Nanami asked.

Shiori was taken aback. Clearly, her parents left to protect her and her brother, as well the cursed object Miyuki had just mentioned. She took a few moments to ground herself back to the conversation after hearing everything Miyuki told them. "Yes." Shiori said. There was not much of a leverage anymore. "Veil realm."

Miyuki started explaining. "It's a special grade object that has infinite space for storage of curses and cursed objects once you open it, but, to open it, you need 15 different keys. We have been passing them down generation after generation." She pointed to the box. "Mine is in there. We all take a binding vow to give them to our first child as soon as they are born, just to be sure it is kept within the family."

"I know." Shiori answered. She pulled her own key from inside her clothing. "I keep mine with me all the time."

"Where?" Miyuki asked.

Shiori blushed. "None of your business." She sighed. "And there is no changing your mind?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"We can use this to our advantage, then." Nanami said. Shiori looked at him, incredulous, as she realized what he meant by that.

"You can't possibly be suggesting using her as bait!" Shiori said angrily, looking at him.

"That is not a bad idea, actually." Miyuki said. "And I can hold my own pretty well. I have our inherited cursed technique, melt grenade."

" Me too." Shiori answered. "But this is still a bad idea."

"Ms. Miyuki, we're in the middle of a residential area. You can't use that very effectively to defend yourself without collateral damage or attracting too much attention." Nanami replied. Ayako clearly had tried and failed miserably.

"Oh, true." She replied. "What do you suggest, then?"

"Just come to my house. We can sort this out there. And when he comes, we will be ready." Shiori said. She looked at Nanami. "What do you think?"

"It's a plan." He replied.

End notes:

To avoid postponing posting this one, I just decided to not proofread it to exhaustion. It is written, it is here, and if it has anything poorly written, I'm sorry, but I won't be going back to fix it anytime soon 😅

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #kento nanami #jjk fanfic #sandandsnowchapter #gege when i catch you gege #jjk fanart #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #Spotify #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojo satoru #satorugojo #gojo #gojo saturo #original character #jjk oc #jjk ocs #jujutsu kaisen oc

[branmuffins22]

13, 26, 35, 39, 44 from this ask game

Ooo, that's a lotta questions!

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

The short answer? NOT EXACTLY BUT I REALLY REALLY SHOULD

The longer answer?

Technically, I have almost every major plot point written down in some form or another before I write a thing. That said, they usually aren't in any sensible order, and are buried in a mess of a channel in my private discord server, where ALL my brainrot goes.

When I write, I mostly just pick a starting point from one of my notes, and walk it forward from there. I tried properly outlining for one of my fics, and it got me... somewhere, but for the most part, my brain just doesn't work that way. An outline becomes a task list, and I can't stand task lists.

My current system is kinda horrid, but I'd be more worried about someone getting bored sifting through all my scattered notes than getting a headache from them.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

That one's... probably a tossup between a lot of things. Bodily needs, background streamers mentioning something I actually have an opinion on, my mother barging in with shame and deadlines for cyclical tasks (man, I need out of this house), my twin having something funny to show me... basically just ~Life~, lmao.

I guess part of the problem with my current life situation is that I don't have a lot of time that's truly, unequivocally my own, so I get pushed and pulled around by whatever or whoever calls my attention loudest.

...Or maybe that's just the adhd talking.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

SIGNIFICANTLY.

Now, I've been known to struggle with feelings of situational/emotional permanence, so I could be a little biased by the fact that it's my current biggest hobby, but at this point, around half of my social life happens in fandom/fanfiction circles, which wasn't the case a year or two ago.

Two years ago, I didn't read for fun. Like, full stop. I only started doing that after Thanks to Them released, when the hiatus brainrot got me seeking content and community from more than just the show itself and the friend who got me into it. I think the very first fanfic I read was a oneshot someone cross-posted to tumblr, which somehow convinced me to join both tumblr (technically rejoin tumblr) and Ao3 around the same time. Well. maybe a month or so apart, because of the weird account-creation queue thing Ao3 has goin' on. But still.

I don't think I started to consider writing my own fanfiction until I read A Blight on Bonesborough, by GeminiAlchemist, and got a bunch of ideas from the way they expanded upon the lore and magic system and characters and all that of the Owl House.

From there, it kinda took over my life completely, lmao.

I wanted to write about Luz's experiments with glyphs, and some potential avenues of missed opportunity brought to my attention by The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled, by IdeaHunter, and that eventually turned into the Artificer|Overthinker AU (to this day i still haven't picked the name).

Later, I wanted a story about Luz experiencing human high school again after all the dust settled, and after reading a fun fic whose premise was great but whose execution didn't quite scratch the itch (Luz Noceda and the mysterious case of her imaginary girlfriend, by Imkindagayyk), that slowly evolved into Masha and the Very Normal Nocedas (which I actually started writing over a year ago, and still haven't gotten to a postable state with even a single chapter, lmao).

Ever since, I've pretty much been rotating some fic idea or another in my head 24/7.

Nowadays, I wake up and check ao3 for fic updates/new fics, I read while I cook and eat breakfast, I browse tumblr for new stuff from my faves and mutuals, I check ao3 again every few hours, sometimes (but not often) I find the motivation and such to actually write, and I kinda keep up like that all day.

It's maybe a little excessive/obsessive/destructive/etc, but fanfiction kinda defines all the intentional parts of my life right now.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Voice and gimmicks.

The most prominent examples I can think of are the various literary tropes I try to imbue certain characters and such with. I usually write in 3rd-person limited perspective, so the characters' voices influence not just the way I write their dialog, but the way I write entire scenes.

There aren't any good examples of it in either of the fics I've actually posted so far, so you'll kinda just have to trust me on this, but a great example is the way I establish the POV character of a given scene.

It's easier for some characters than others, and I haven't come up with a gimmick for every character yet, but I try to open each scene with a literary trope that emphasizes some aspect of the POV character's voice.

For example, scenes written from Luz's point of view always start with speech, either hers or directed at her. Luz is a rambunctious, chatty, and kinda awkward character, who tends to exert herself on every situation she comes across, so I figure an unconventional (and arguably obnoxious, according to some people) opener works great for her.

Hunter is an outwardly-cocky character with some deep-seated self-worth problems (and a very slanted worldview besides), so his scenes always start with a self-affirmation of some kind, usually followed by a contradiction. Often, he's either intentionally or subconsciously trying to convince himself of something, or to do whatever it is he's about to be doing in the scene.

Vee is a bit of a special case. Like Luz, her scenes start in media res, but she tends to borrow the gimmicks of characters around her. She's a shapeshifter, and learned about life in the outside world as a doppelganger, so she has a tendency for mimicry, intentional or not. She also has a secondary gimmick, one that's a bit more her own, in that narration about her often finds itself filled with alliteration, especially involving the letter S (since she's sort of a snake, and snakes hisssss (and doing it with the letter V was too hard lmao)). It started as a running gag she played on Masha in MatVNN, but then I couldn't stop using it, so it's kinda everywhere now.

Masha is a superstitious (though slightly apathetic) character with a keen eye (and no attention span with which to wield it). They tend to seek out meaning even where there isn't any, and thus often completely miss the broader details in favor of the little things. Their scenes start with an isolated excerpt, usually a tarot reading. In an ideal world, the readings would foreshadow both the events of the scene and at least one of the ways they've misinterpreted them, but unfortunately, I haven't yet actually learned enough tarot to do that. It's a big part of why Masha and the Very Normal Nocedas is taking so long to get to a postable state 😅.

That's pretty much all the opening gimmicks I've worked out so far, but another one I'd like to mention has to do with the way magic is written.

Whenever a spell is cast, I whip out my thesaurus and try to sprinkle in a few words nearby that relate to the kind of spell being cast. For instance, I might say that when Willow casts a wall of vines, she first "plants her feet on the ground", or "stifles her budding anger". Before Luz casts an invisibility spell, she might think about "hiding the cards she was dealt" or maybe "her hands disappear into her pockets". Stuff like that.

The way I imagine it, magic taps straight into the caster's homonculus (broadly, the part of their brain that decides and understands what encompasses "the body") in such a way that the caster becomes part of the spell just as much as the spell becomes part of the caster.

Luz in particular, having the knack for magic that she does, tends to start this process of "becoming the spell" as soon as she decides to cast it, not just at the moment she actually casts it. It's like working yourself into the headspace of a thing, before sitting down and doing it. I've got a whole huge segment in one of my more dramatic fics that's basically an entire page of this kind of thing, with Luz preparing to cast a really big spell (or, well. technically a pair of big spells (TECHNICALLY technicaly it's one normal spell being used to prepare to cast the two massive spells. it's a whole thing)). It honestly might be the highlight of my writing portfolio, which is a huge shame because it's a MASSIVE spoiler.

Anyways, uhhh yeah. I really like gimmicks.

44. Rant about something writing related.

WELL SHITDAMNFUCK, IF ONLY I READ ALL THESE QUESTIONS AHEAD OF TIME! I COULD'VE SPARED SOME OF THOSE PRIOR RANTS FOR HERE!

Well. Guess I aughtta find something else to write about.

How about the ultimate enemy, the scourge of our people, the cornerstone of suffering itself, the dreaded and feared, the great and terrible:

Writer's Block.

It may come as a surprise to the ignorant among us (hehe, amogus), but I, too, suffer from Writer's Block from time to time! In fact, I'm even suffering from it right now! And I have been for the past... oh goodness, over 2 months now.

I had one good day of writing, in all that time, which only came about because I nearly fell asleep in the tub. I somehow daydreamed my way into a really good turn of phrase that I just HAD to put into context for Backlight and Bitrot.

So far, that singular scene, set (the equivalent of) several seasons into the story, remains both the only thing I've written for that fic, and the only thing I've written at all since January.

It's infuriating! I have all these ideas, all these things I WANT to write, all these people I want to share these ideas with, all this time, all this passion, all this brainrot, and yet I Just! Can't! Write!

AUGH!

It would be one thing if I'd simply run out of ideas; I could call this whole thing something pretty like a "dreaming phase" or a "break in order to recharge" or whatever. But I've been dreaming for ages! This break has been in no way relieving! I'm just wallowing in my inability to do the things i love, while the world moves on around me!

You've had an excellent way of phrasing this for yourself, recently: "The executives are on vacation."

It's not some pleasure cruise for me! Those darn jerks (basic brain functions) who dictate every little thing that goes on around here just fucked off to who-knows-where! Completely blind to the consequences (stagnation, suffering, shame) of their absence, and how those affect their employees (me)! I just work here, man! Lemme do my job! I wanna do my job, but I can't if you don't let me! Ugh.

I want to write so goddamn bad. I've got all these projects to write for, all these brainrot spores to spread. I've got so much I want to accomplish, and yet my dumb bitch brain can't seem to get the memo. Work phone is powered off, I suppose.

It's gotten to the point lately that even those random notes to myself have slowed down. I'm having less new ideas than before. I'm picking old ideas out and polishing them less than before.

I'm worried I might end up having to find a way to cater my writing to the dumb mammal part of my brain somehow, in order to bring some momentum back. Write about something crude and easy and filled with every instantly-gratifying fantasy I can imagine.

No more of this 'careful thought' and 'consideration for themes' junk, we want it LOUD and we want it NOW.

Ugh.

Writer's Block is the worst.

What a bummer to end on. Oh well, I'm gettin' kinda sleepy, and I'm out of questions anyways. Thanks for the ask!

#ask games #thanks for the ask!

[catwings-writes-things]

If you still take questions from the Tree writer ask game: Gingko: What part of your story is the oldest, has stuck around from that original idea?

Paper Birch: Which character has the most layers peeled back?

I am indeed still taking asks! I am always taking asks from any ask game I’ve ever reblogged, by the way. Just tell me which one and preferably include the questions, especially if it’s from a while back. You did this exactly right 💚

Gingko: A World of His Own has actually changed shockingly little from the original idea. From the first “hey, what if” series of texts about the concept I sent to @thethistlegirlwrites, the basic premise and who was involved were set. I had the basic plot sketched out in its entirety within a few days. So to answer this question, I’m going to have to go back to a few days before the actual germ of the idea, when I read this fic by @mikecrewsteacup and started thinking about Mike a lot more than I previously had. One of the things I noticed was that Jude said Mike “hangs around with the Fairchilds sometimes,” so he clearly knows and gets on with them but isn’t one himself, and I started wondering if they hadn’t invited him to join or if they had but he’d declined, and if so why. I did eventually decide it makes total sense with his character that he would prefer to remain as unaffiliated as possible with anything and anyone except the Vast, and especially that he’d be uncomfortable with the idea of a family of any sort, but it led to wondering what, if anything, might have been different if he had been a Fairchild. That led to me thinking more about the Fairchilds in general, which led to me going back over Freefall and wondering who Harriet was (besides the only Fairchild besides Simon we get a name for. We get the names of more Lukases, for crying out loud) and what the deal was with Robert Kelly and Open Skydiving (more on that in chapter 11), and that led to me writing a ficlet where she gets sent to invite Mike to join the Fairchild family a year or two after his Becoming. Even then, when they both suspected that the other might start trying to kill them at any moment, I could tell within a few minutes of them interacting with each other that their dynamic had, pun intended, vast potential. So, probably the oldest part of this story is the relationship between Mike and Harriet. (My interest in Jon and Helen’s dynamic is even older, but the way I think about it has evolved enough over time that I think the above answer still stands.)

Paper Birch: surprising no one, I’m gonna have to say Helen. Not just because she’s been a thousand different people over the past who-knows-how-many centuries, not just because she’s often a mystery even to herself, but because one of the many consequences of the fact that this fic is being told entirely from Jon’s point of view is that what gets conveyed to the readers is limited by what he knows and thinks and believes, and even though Jon is hands-down Helen’s favorite person and (by this point in the story) the person who loves her most, he’s also fundamentally unable to understand her (for practical reasons and for her safety), not to mention just. Kind of shit at actually understanding other people in general. However, he’s also inclined to keep trying to work around that, partly because it’s hard for him to grasp any other way to love someone. He’s definitely getting better at that, but in the meantime, the upshot of all that is that he will keep forming new misconceptions about Helen only slightly more slowly than he learns better. Sooner or later they’ll both realize that that’s not a bad thing, but for now… yeah.

Thank you for the ask, friend! Best!

#fic: a world of his own #jailbreak mike and harriet #jailbreak jon and helen #asks and answers #anonymous

[redgoldsparks]

August Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Full reviews below the cut.

A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine

What a brilliant and satisfying follow up to A Memory Called Empire. What a pleasure when the second book in a duology is arguable stronger than the first! This book picks up pretty much exactly where the previous one left off, with Mahit back on Lsel Station, Three Seagrass still in Teixcalaan promoted to a high level Information Ministry role under the new Emperor, and war against an unintelligible alien force brewing in the very edge of Teixcalaan space. Nine Hibiscus heads the fleet facing the mysterious enemy and her friendship with Twenty Cicada, her second in command, shines as one of the highlights of the story. This book once against wrestles with the limits of identity ("How wide is your your definition of you?" is a question asked over and over) as well how hard is it to resist soft power/cultural exports of empire, even by a people who desire to maintain an independence government. I highly, highly recommend this series and plan to keep reading anything Arkady Martine publishes!

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Bear read by Kinsale Hueston

An engaging young adult murder mystery which draws from a real mix of myths and cultures! The main character, Ellie, is Lipan Apache, and the heir to a family power to call back the dead. Her best friends are the ghost of her childhood dog, Kirby, and Jay, a human boy who is part fae. When Ellie's cousin, an elementary school teacher and new father, is killed in a mysterious car accident, Ellie's family rallies around his widow to try and figure out what really happened. The death occurred in Willowby, Texas, a strange town full of it's own secrets. Fairy mushrooms grow improbably from the dry soil, and vampires linger in unusual numbers around the mansion of a wealthy doctor. Can two teens and a ghost dog unravel this crime, and find justice for the dead? I listened as an audiobook and through it took me a while to orient myself in the beginning, by the end I really enjoyed the ride. It made me think of Gaimen's American Gods, but written from an indigenous perspective for younger readers.

A Map to the Sun by Sloane Leong

This is a beautiful, complex book which follows five high school girls in Los Angeles, struggling to stay motivated and in school despite shaky friendships, challenging home lives, and a world of factors outside of their control. A young, peppy teacher convinces them to join a new, underfunded girls basketball team at the school and the desire to win becomes their motivating factor. The emotional heart of the story is the relationship of Ren and Luna, who spent one summer as best friends before Luna moved back to Oahu and stopped answering any of Ren's calls. When Luna reappears at the start of the next school year, she seems to think she can slot right back into Ren's life as if nothing happened. But Ren as been abandoned before, and she doesn't trust so easily a second time. Colored in a palette of bright, vivid tones that bring out the heat of an LA summer and the emotions of a bruised heart.

A Quick and East Guide to Asexuality by Molly Muldoon and Will Hernandez

At just 70 pages, this book is very much "just the basics". I thought the chapter sections were divided well and the flow of information was good, but I hope anyone who reads this goes on to pick up a few longer books afterwards! I also wish it had been printed in color.

I Know You Rider by Leslie Stein

Published in 2020, this book narrates an experience that should be ordinary: getting an abortion, and deciding to talk about it publicly. The author highlights conversations from the year surrounding the abortion, picking out poignant or humorous moments. Stein's circle of friends includes fellow cartoonists, musicians, restaurant owners and many others, all trying to do the best they can in a complicated world. The drawings are loose, panelless, charmingly rendered in watercolor and the hand lettering gives the book a particularly personal, almost diary-like feel.

Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson read by Kate Rudd

This is a twisty and satisfying teen murder mystery, which weaves together two timelines at an exclusive private boarding school, Ellingham Academy, in Vermont. In 1936, the wife and daughter of the school's rich founder were kidnapped and never returned. The kidnapper also took one student and left a threatening cut and pasted riddle note which has frustrated scholars of the case for years. In the present day, true-crime aficionado Stevie Bell is accepted into the school and is delighted to walk on the grounds she has read so much about. She is determined to solve the Ellingham kidnapping case once and for all, but when a series of mysterious and threatening incidents begin to happen around her, Stevie realizes that she might be in the middle of her own new Ellingham case. The story ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but luckily there are four more books already out in this series and I have the next one on hold already!

The Best At It by Maulik Pancholy

As he heads into seventh grade in his small town in Indiana, Rahul increasingly struggles with his growing anxiety, worries that he might be gay, and desires to fit in to his mostly white junior high school. When Rahul's beloved grandfather tells him a story about his passionate grandma, an engineer who overcame prejudice by being the best student in her school, Rahul interprets this to mean that he also must become the very best at something. He tries out for the football team and auditions as an actor, while ignoring his actual best subject, math, because it seems too nerdy. He also stresses over a cultural fair his family is helping run, worrying about appearing "too Indian". Luckily, his best friend Chelsea cheerleads all of his projects, no matter how strange, and his family assure him that they will accept him no matter what- even before Rahul understands how much he values their support.

The Moth Presents: All These Wonders edited by Catherine Burns

I've listened to the Moth podcast on and off here and there, but picked up this book from a little free library mainly because of the pretty cover and forward by Neil Gaiman. So good job marketing and design team, you got me, at least when the price was $0. Anyway, this was a lovely collection of short human stories about all kinds of different life experiences. There are a few that will genuinely stick with me for years, including one about grief written by a chaplain, and one about the woman who became David Bowie's hairdresser during the Ziggy Stardust years. My one small complain about this book is the fact that all the stories are of nearly the exact same length slightly lessoned their emotional impact as I started to get towards the end of the book.

Spear written and read by Nicola Griffith

I loved Nicola Griffith's first book, and was highly anticipating this second one; it did not disappoint! I listened to the audiobook was completely drawn into the lyrical language and the magic of this Arthurian legend retelling. The story opens with a girl born and raised in a wild valley by a mother who is sometimes loving, wise, and overflowing with stories and other times depressed, fearful, and vacant. The girl knows that something terrible happened to her mother in the past; it has something to do with her birth and the beautiful enamel bowl that sits over the fire in the cave they shelter in. But the girl is too delighted by the world, and too curious about the plants, animals, and humans who live in the valley to dwell on it. She grows in strength and skill; visions and gut feelings draw her to collect armor and repair weapons, and eventually set out south towards King Arthur's court. There she stumbles into a story that was started long before she was born, but in which she will play a vital part. I absolutely loved this, it's deeply queer, and I highly recommend it!

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands by Kate Beaton

Holy shit, what a book!! I've been reading Kate Beaton's work online since the livejournal days, starting in roughly 2009, just after the events which this memoir recounts. It's humbling to sit with the narrative of what was happening in the real life of an author I knew for her humorous history jokes in Hark! A Vagrant. In 2005, Kate was a recent college graduate with a double degree in History and Anthropology, and a mountain of student debt. She came home to Cape Breton, in Eastern Canada, to a very bleak jobless landscape. So, she did what everyone was doing at the time: went to work in the oil sands in Alberta until she could pay her loans off. At twenty-two she had no idea what to expect or what she would find there; what the isolation, physically challenging work environment, and massive gender-imbalance of the employee population would lead to. Men outnumbered women sometimes fifty to one; sexual harassment during work hours and assault after hours in the camp dorms was rampant, as was depression and drug use. Slowly, over the course of three years, Kate became aware of the conversations around environmental impact and misuse of stolen Indigenous lands. This book, nearly 500 pages, does not tell; it shows, in excruciating detail, the human cost of this harsh, damaging industry. But while the money remains, people who feel they have no other choice will keep working the oil sands. No one who works there wants to be there, but the other industries they worked in before are gone. I am extremely grateful that Beaton decided to write this book, and I hope the telling of the story was cathartic. Thank you also to Drawn and Quarterly, for giving me a copy in advance of its release. This is a heavy book, but I definitely recommend it, and I want to follow it up with some reading on how we begin addressing this huge, systemic problem.

#books #reading #book reviews #comic book reviews #book recs

[scottxlogan]

Writer’s wrap, 6, 13, 16, 20 pls!

Thanks so much for the ask! This has been really fun and such an interesting series of questions to answer, so thanks for that!

6. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Okay, so for me this is a toss up because there are a few that really stand out (I know I’m supposed to pick one, but I just can’t so I’ll pick 3 lol)

Damaged: Not going to lie this story was my saving grace at the beginning of the pandemic because it was my way of coping with being in lockdown for a very long time. This story also is a spin on most of my other post-DOFP Scott/Logan stories where Scott is essentially so damaged in ways by life/his sense of duty/his pain/losses/life experiences/etc. that I don’t often explore most of my in fics. He’s at a dark place and Logan just is this beacon bringing him back and opening him up to finding something that in this world he never had before not even with the Logan that was a part of it before this Logan arrived (yes it sounds complicated, but if you read the fic you’ll get it I promise and it won’t disappoint). It follows the theme of second chances and finding your soulmate against impossible odds. I know it’s another long story, but it’s one that a lot of people have enjoyed and told me how it’s touched them along the way, which means a lot because it’s special to me. 

Home Again: This story is so special to me because it’s about healing and forgiveness and love and basically me trying to fix some missteps in the MCU. I’ve had a lot of fun with this one writing ghost!Tony with Bucky that I’m probably (absolutely) stalling on the ending and I do apologize for that, but this one has been so special because I took a supernatural spin and knew from the very first word just how it would end and it has been such a fun journey for me. As for the future with it, I can promise it fits into my popular ‘additional tag’ on AO3 lol.

End of the Line: (Read the answer to the next question to find out why lol, but it was a triumph of writing for me at a time when I wasn’t sure where my writing future was at lol)

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

My longest work is End of the Line (766,117 words) This one is my longest work EVER and it started a little bit at the end of last year, but I imagine it will be the lonest fanfic I ever write and I did it for a reverse bang, which in retrospect was kind of crazy lol. The cool part about writing it is that it was the first time I wrote WinterIron and I was so inspired by the art/conversations that I had with @massivespacewren during the creative process that I wound up writing this epic story (at least in terms of length) where I posted a chapter every day for 68 days. It was a labor of love and a challenge unlike any other I’d taken on. I know the length sounds intimidating, but man was it fun to go all out and try something new. This AU story finds Tony rock bottom after he walks away from the team when an accidental misstep on a mission drives him away from being a hero. He’s caught up in his guilt/pain/grief that he leaves everything about his old life and finds himself in isolation where a chance meeting with a mysterious, handsome stranger turns his world around and brings him back to finding himself again. Along the way he seeks out redemption, love and a means of forgiving himself for the sins of the past. There’s so much I could say about that story and some behind the scenes secrets as well, but yeah that is probably my longest work in terms of fanfic of all time I think. Nothing will probably ever top that one lol. 

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Angst with a happy ending (would be my guess) lol I am a sucker for stories where the reader knows at the end no matter how bad the obstacles might be that they will be rewarded for their time invested in the story. Some have said it takes away from the suspense element in putting that out there, but for me I like to let people know that yes there’s going to be a big payoff at the end and it’ll be well worth the wait :)

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most? Um, probably not one I’ve posted on AO3 as I was writing an original novel that I was kind of deeply invested in for a while. If I had to pick something I’ve posted on AO3, which is what this is about I suppose lol I would say probably Under Your Spell as it was a challenge someone gave me that I had fun with. I haven’t read it in a while, but there’s something about Logan drinking a ‘love potion’ and finding himself head over heels for Scott that was really fun to write. Another one I’ve enjoyed rereading every now and then is Date Night (which is the 2nd one shot in my Better Together series as it opened the door to Scott/Tony bonding with Bruce Banner and deepening their friendship in it. It kind of set the tone in a lot of ways for the multi-chapter fic (Better Together) that followed and honestly if people look deeper into the Better Together story you’ll probably not think of Waffle House the same again lol. Hands down that scene I’ve probably read a few times since it was super romantic and fun. And now I’m going to stop rambling now, but these were a lot of fun! Thank you so much for asking!

#stormxpadme #ao3 wrapped #ask me #my fics #scogan #winteriron #my writing #such a fun journey down memory lane

[griseldabanks]

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?, Link your three favorite fics right now (please), What is your most and least favorite part of writing?, and Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

I always think of myself as a novelist, and that carries over to fanfiction as well. Granted, I've written more oneshots than chapterfics, because it takes a lot less time, but I really do love sinking my teeth into a hefty chapterfic. I suppose one of my favorite ways to compromise is to do a collection of oneshots. It's great for when I have a bunch of ideas for a certain relationship or AU, but don't necessarily want to devote the time and attention an actual chapterfic would require.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

This is...really hard. There are so many good ones! I couldn't possibly rank all of my favorites, because every fic that earns its way onto my faves has something uniquely wonderful about it, and it's really hard to compare. (Also, what is "right now" supposed to mean? Do other people...stop loving their faves? With very few exceptions, once a fic makes its way onto my faves list, it's there to stay.) But here are three from different fandoms:

Tempest by Bookwrm389 (FMA) - Parental!RoyEd fic involving Ed and Mustang fighting Scar during a thunderstorm, gobs of angst and hurt/comfort, everyone so perfectly in-character, some truly epic moments as well as some great humor (very fitting for FMA), and overall it's just impeccably written in every way. I thought of this one when answering question 60 below, and knew I had to mention this fic, because it was the first time I ever saved a fic to my hard drive that was written by someone who wasn't a personal friend. I'm not very good or consistent about saving the fics I really like, but I knew immediately that if I ever lost access to this one, I would regret it forever.

John Plays Hooky by chappysmom (Sherlock) - A fun, shortish chapterfic about John taking an unplanned day off to just enjoy himself, and unintentionally leading Sherlock on a wild goose chase as he tries to solve the mystery of where John suddenly disappeared to. The characters are written excellently, there's so much fun irony in knowing both sides of what's going on when the characters don't, and it's also an excellent display of what sort of person John Watson is. It's a fic that just makes me smile every time I think of it.

Wander into My Mind by SergeantToMyCaptain (Captain America) - Go ahead, accuse me of favoritism, but this fic written by my bestie is just...phenomenal. It's in an AU in which Bucky comes to Steve, who is helping him recover from everything Hydra did to him, and in which Steve and Sharon actually get a chance to go somewhere with their relationship. The fic is about one of Bucky's bad days, and how Steve helps him deal with it. Basically it's just a huge ball of hurt/comfort and some of the most exquisite angst and tenderness you'll ever read. Not a story for everyone, I suppose - you have to be comfortable with men being very soft and affectionate with each other, without even a smidge of romance between them. But if that's a pill you can swallow, do yourself a favor and go read this masterpiece.

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

Well, they're definitely related. I'm not very good at coming up with ideas on my own, so the brainstorming stage is often my least-favorite. It's much more fun, and much more effective, when I have someone to bounce ideas off of, but even so, what I really love is when the whole story is figured out, I know the basic gist of how things will play out, and all that's left is for me to sit down and find the words to write it. I love that. Sure, sometimes I end up staring at a blinking cursor even when I have a plan in mind, but it's just so satisfying to finally be able to put down on paper the scenes you've been daydreaming about. It never quite turns out exactly the way I think it will, and sometimes I need to take several passes at it before it gets to where I want it to be, but that part of the process is when I really feel like I'm in the zone. This is why I work best as part of a team, really - if someone else can help me with ideas, I'm perfectly happy to be in charge of actually writing those ideas out in the form of a story.

60. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Sadly, this writer seems to have disappeared and taken down/orphaned her fics, but one of the greatest moments of my fanfic career was when Bookwrm389 commented on my FMA fic "Silence-Carved Scars" and gushed about it. It's a Parental!RoyEd fic that was originally inspired by her Parental!RoyEd fic "Gold from Lead." Both fics involve a misunderstanding about the nature of Ed and Mustang's relationship, but she said I went farther than she'd dared to do. I was walking on cloud nine for a while, believe me ^_^

Fic Writer Asks

#ask and you shall receive #called-kept #ask games #just realized that maybe that question about fic recommendations was supposed to be about one's OWN fics? #oh well too late now

[blackmonitor]

It’s time to reconvene The Asker’s Studio™️ because I’ve got questions!

It is my exceedingly good fortune @blackmonitor that you are reading @myevilmouse Conflicting Aesthetics at same time I am, so that I reap the benefits of your artistic talents. In chapter 3, Mouse drops a heavy paragraph relating the frustrations that our artist, Seta, is experiencing whilst sketching Thrawn:

It wouldn’t be perfect. That was the problem with truly fascinating subjects. Capturing his aura was the best she could hope for. Thrawn, even half-naked, exuded command. The sense of power, a demeanor of authority was prevalent, almost but not completely camouflaging a latent vulnerability. Not self-consciousness, something else. Seta could see it, imagined Thrawn would deny it existed, but wouldn’t be content until its flavor was imbued in the lines of her art. It was the sum total, everything wrapped in a charismatic fog of mystery, emphasizing the thing that made him most alien—which also made him intriguing and attractive beyond the physical.

I asked the omniscient Mouse if she was 1. An artist 2. If she was, was this description from experience? The answer was No on both counts. WHUT?! I am not satisfied with this answer. I need to know MORE!

So my dear honest to goodness real artist: Could you please reflect on the paragraph above from an artist’s point of view.

Hint: short answers are not acceptable (jk) 🤣

For those of you who have not seen the portrait that Seta was frustrated over, @blackmonitor has done us the great favour and rendered it for us, exquisitely. (Check out all of her work - it’s pure gold yummy greatness)

Portrait courtesy of @blackmonitor

As always: you have the floor. Thank you for the generosity of your time and talent!

Welcome! Oh wow… Let me just…

“So my dear honest to goodness real artist...”

Oh yes, that paragraph! That was chilling! And I had the opportunity to read it as a lost artist who didn't draw anything for YEARS, and now, as someone who brought joy to many people with my silly drawings. In both cases, it touched something in my soul.

First of all, let me talk about the method of my drawings - not the technical details I already described here.

So art, for me, is about communication - communicating something to the viewer, even in a portrait or anything. It should tell a story, an emotion, or just some vibes to the viewer. Otherwise, it has no point (according to my point of view, but this is highly subjective, so forgive me if yours are different).

For example, take my first Thrawn portrait. 

Before I started to draw it, I wondered what I should draw - how to draw him. Back then, I read the first Ascendancy book, so it was obvious that I wanted to see him in that uniform. So when I found my reference from the comic, I changed it to communicate what I wanted - a man destined for greatness who failed.

But how? Well, my method is this - in mind, I became that person (like writers do it). I imagine how he would act, what he would feel… general things. And when I can see that back from my display, I'm happy. Like Seta, I always put my interpretation of the character into the drawing - the posture, the expression, and emotion. @myevilmouse did a beautiful work of describing all those things and the struggle!

The overall vibes and emotions are always superior to the technique or realism in my art. I want to communicate basic understandings in a pleasant form. Sometimes this works better, and sometimes it's not. But I always worked like this even before I did fanarts. So for me, Seta's struggle is real! But I never tried to reach hyperrealism 🤭 That's not for me. Swift projects, maybe a few days on them, move on to something different.

Similarly, in writing, @myevilmouse wrote down beautifully the struggle of sketching someone sitting in front of you, and you know almost nothing about him. In cases like that, I usually use my imagination. Fill out the gaps. I have a basic knowledge of personalities which I use these times. And while I am drawing someone, I'm always thinking about them - not necessarily them in the picture, but other different situations - filling those gaps in my mind.

The goal for me is to put something into the picture. When that something is "looking back to me," I'm happy. Maybe it's something only I can sense, Idk. But that's my goal, similar to what Seta felt as @myevilmouse described it.

For me, Thrawn is a fascinating individual to draw - because he is a great character! And there is so much potential in him.

Thank you for this opportunity to share my thought about this exciting subject! 

#ask #asnwer #ask box #blackmonitor #too long answer #my method of drawing #The Asker’s Studio™️

[theharrowing]

What was your inspiration for Dollhouse and Collateral? How did you come up with those ideas 🤯🤩

Ashley’s Random thoughts…

this is a great question and probably one that i do not have a short answer for, but i will try my best to be concise lol.

i'll start with Collateral! i saw yoongi's outfit in That That and i joked about him being a mafia boss, and then enough people (like 6 bc i cave quickly to peer pressure) on twitter and tumblr were into the idea, so i decided to make a fic. i honestly have never really read mafia fics, so i just kinda started winging it (i've read a few chapters here and there since, but haven't had as much as i would like to dedicate to anything.)

as for Dollhouse! i created Dollhouse and The Hooksborough Demon at the same time, and they were originally just one story, so the inspiration for Dollhouse starts with THD. and since that is way more interesting, i'll explain it even tho you never asked! lmao. this explanation will be kinda lengthy...

back when i was writing boy blue, i was reading a fic (that seems to have disappeared, sadly) called daylight saving (or daylight saving time?) where two people would meet in their dreams and have to fight monsters and if one was injured or died, they were both similarly injured or died in the waking world, and the two of them would have a sort of physical bleeding over experience after a while where they would feel what the other feels, because they were connected in some special way.

and it was tense and sad and incredible and i really liked the idea of characters meeting in their dreams and having certain aspects of the waking and dreaming worlds affect each other. and i actually had pretty intense dreams/nightmares at the time that became most of the plot of The Hooksborough Demon. (there are also some things that i borrowed from a book called house of leaves, where there's a mysterious space that shifts around and grows/shrinks on its own, and if you leave something behind it disappears.)

(HBD side note: i also get night terrors & sleep paralysis, and as a kid i would "wake up" in my room and see an overwhelming black mist hovering over me, and at the time i couldn't differentiate it from reality and genuinely thought my room was super haunted. i'm still not 100% convinced it wasn't lmao. but i couldn't resist including that in the story, too.)

soooooo, at the same time, i also really wanted to do something with the mental bleeding over, specifically with smut, and i felt like i couldn't also fit that into THD (since it's a found footage/"ghost" story, i wanted that one to be more scary than smutty) so then i decided to take a sci-fi approach and create an entire universe solely around the thought of 2 men mentally and physically experiencing the same thing (which i think finally happens in chapter 10 lmao.)

so i had to create dollhouse. there's a film called the possessor by brandon cronenberg where, basically, the lead is a hired assassin who enters bodies the way hoseok does. i did my best to let similarities mostly end after the first chapter, but the basic vibe for the story itself was influenced by that film.

i think it just clicked one night while i was laying in bed fretting over how to make my one grand idea split up into two more manageable stories. i liked the idea of having a cis character body swap with a trans character, and then the cis character has an identity crisis. i was originally going to focus more on jungkook and less on yoongi & namjoon but i let all of that carry me away when i discovered how fun it was to write.

this.....isn't concise at all. i feel like i just babbled a lot about nothing much, but long story short: i have an overactive imagination and i like to pick inspiration from stories that really resonate with me. it is my hope that my work is always way more different than that which inspires me, but i do it to silently pay homage too.

sorry for writing a drabble-length answer to your question lolol.

#moonleeai #ashley's random thoughts #i love my moots #especially this one!!!!! #fic: dollhouse #fic: collateral #fic: the hooksborough demon #you've got mail 💌

[raxistaicho]

Could you elaborate on your gameplay tier list please ? Like what you think of the gameplay of each game

Yeah, for sure :)

S tier

New Mystery of the Emblem is just very tightly balanced and it really teaches you to respect things like enemy move order, spacing, and damage counting, and the rainbow potions, reclassing, and the star shards strongly reward careful examination of stat benchmarks. Also it's one of the few games in the series where nearly every promoted class has some valuable niche (Warrior sadly doesn't live up).

Thracia is kind of on the extreme opposite end of things, where instead it's very experimental and just flat busted in a lot of ways, and there's a lot of oddball ways to build units (Amalda spamming a sleep staff while holding a fire sword is a good example) and the game is actually well balanced around getting you to exploit its busted mechanics, which fits the story of Thracia.

Conquest in a lot of ways is kinda like New Mystery's answer to modern Fire Emblem. Kinda the same stuff is all there.

A tier

Tear Ring Saga has some really fascinating ways to make units unique from one another (Maerhen would so easily just be hot garbage but he actually has a fun niche, Raquel is one of the best-designed turn based strategy game units I've ever seen) and he and it has a better party split than Gaiden or Sacred Stones could dream of having (which lends to replayability) but it's also a LONG game (I think it has around 40 chapters not counting map spawns and dungeons) and has some just inexplicably shitty units who have absolutely no value to bring to a party.

Shadow Dragon is mini New Mystery in a lot of ways. Its first three chapters are hot garbage but the mid-game is actually quite fun and there’s unexpected ways to make some units work out. Also being able to control ballisticians is all kind of fun.

Three Houses REALLY pushes you to learn and use all its myriad ways to build a team (see my post on why “oops all wyverns” is stupid), and I’m just really into the character and team-building side of it. That said, I can easily see why the monastery would get very tedious and the map design is really weak, honestly.

B tier

Birthright is my first guilty pleasure game. I just think it’s a pretty solidly-built game with no major flaws aside from being rout-heavy and Ryoma being hilariously busted.

Radiant Dawn is a super guilty pleasure game, lol. I like some of the creative things it tried, and ledges brought some really nice strategic depth to some maps, but there’s no denying the game is a balance disaster.

Mystery of the Emblem is just distilled good Fire Emblem design, but the game shows its age and it’s unbearably slow to play nowadays.

Binding Blade has a really good mid and late game, but the starting squad’s competence is a myth. Accuracy is a joke. We are all pawns, controlled by something greater: huge maps and status staves! The DNA of Binding Blade!

C tier

Genealogy of the Holy War is a game I’ve soured on. As I mentioned earlier on I like team and character building, but unlike Three Houses and Conquest the answer is actually who fucking cares about the other kids when you have Seliph and Leif. I unironically really like chapter 2, don’t @ me. But yeah, this game’s very slow to play and enemies are pretty incompetent compared to your chosen lord.

Shadows of Valentia is plagued by questionable map design, units that get samey once they promote, and just honestly getting kinda boring as the game progresses. Another guilty pleasure, since it does do some things I kinda like, like town exploration and dungeons.

D tier

Path of Radiance, slow as fuck game. Everything takes forever, the enemies are incompetent but really bulky, and late game basically devolves into A-moving a bunch of paladins and fliers at the enemy.

Awakening, fucking balance disaster of a game. You’re better off just lowmaning and making an unkillable juggernaut because difficulty is all about bigger enemy numbers and more enemies. Basically every map just swarms you with bodies in the hopes that eventually one of them manages to get the wheels on your meat grinder caught.

And as I mentioned, I haven’t played 7 or 8 recently enough to fairly vote, but 7 would not get very high (most of the unpromoted units are not worth bothering to raise, the ranked system is terribly designed, and higher difficulties fucking restrict your deploy slots) and 8 might be middling at best (just really weak challenge)

#fire emblem

[quizlyco]

Ah, love! That inexplicable, exhilarating, and sometimes perplexing force that has fueled countless poets, musicians, and probably a fair share of ice cream sales. We're diving into the intriguing realm of relationships with a quiz that's more thrilling than a rom-com marathon: the Love Language Test. Picture this: you, a detective of affection, armed with nothing but a metaphorical magnifying glass and an arsenal of charming questions designed to uncover the mysteries of your heart's preferred communication method. If you're ready to decode the signals your heart sends faster than a speed-dating round, buckle up! This Love Language Test extravaganza is about to take you on a journey more riveting than a soap opera plot twist.

Now, what's the deal with love languages, you ask? Well, it turns out that just like ordering coffee or choosing a Netflix series, expressing and receiving love comes in different flavors. Think of it as the ultimate relationship buffet – and this test is your golden ticket to finding out which dishes your heart craves. But let's not get ahead of ourselves; we've got a love-filled odyssey ahead, complete with twists, turns, and maybe a few unexpected emojis.

Chapter One: The 5 Love Language Test – Unleashing Cupid's Secret Code

If your love life were a classified document, the 5 Love Language Test would be the key to the vault. Developed by Gary Chapman, this test is like the Da Vinci Code of relationships – minus the creepy albino monk and with way more heart emojis. The concept is simple yet profound: we all have a primary love language, a unique way we prefer to give and receive love. It's like figuring out if you're more of a handwritten love letter person or someone who prefers love in the form of spontaneous dance parties. The possibilities are as endless as a romantic sunset – well, almost.

Chapter Two: Love Languages Unveiled – Decoding the Alphabet of Affection

Now, let's dig into the juicy details. Imagine love languages as your relationship alphabet, with each letter representing a distinct way of expressing and receiving love. First up, we have "Words of Affirmation" – the poets of the love language world. If you find yourself swooning over sweet nothings, heartfelt compliments, and the occasional "You're the peanut butter to my jelly," this might just be your love lingo.

On the flip side, there's "Acts of Service," the love language for those who believe that actions speak louder than words. If you've ever felt a surge of affection when someone tackles your to-do list or surprises you with breakfast in bed, you might be fluent in this language.

Next, we have "Receiving Gifts" – the love language that turns every present into a love note. If the sight of a thoughtfully chosen gift makes your heart do a happy dance, you're likely speaking this language.

"Quality Time" is the love language for those who believe that undivided attention is the ultimate currency of love. If you'd rather have a deep conversation with your significant other than watch a thousand cat videos, you're in the right zone.

Last but certainly not least, there's "Physical Touch" – the love language that thrives on hugs, kisses, and the oh-so-intimate high-five. If you're the type who believes in the power of a well-timed cuddle, this might just be your love dialect.

Chapter Three: The Love 5 Language Test – Navigating the Maze of Emotions

Now that we've got the basics covered, let's talk about the Love 5 Language Test, the ultimate tool to navigate the intricate maze of emotions. It's like having a love GPS that guides you through the scenic route of affection. Whether you're a seasoned relationship explorer or a love language newbie, this test promises insights more revealing than a tell-all memoir.

The Love 5 Language Test isn't just a quiz; it's a journey of self-discovery, a chance to unearth the treasures hidden within the caverns of your heart. Picture yourself as Indiana Jones, swapping the fedora for a metaphorical love cap, ready to face the challenges of romance armed with nothing but a questionnaire and a thirst for emotional adventure.

Chapter Four: Love Languages Testing – Cracking the Code of Connection

Now, let's get to the nitty-gritty of Love Languages Testing. It's not just about answering questions; it's about embracing the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make your heart beat a little faster. Think of it as the ultimate personality test for your emotions – a chance to understand yourself and your partner on a level deeper than a late-night conversation about the meaning of life (or your favorite pizza topping).

As you embark on this Love Languages Testing adventure, keep in mind that there are no wrong answers – only opportunities to unravel the beautiful tapestry of your emotional landscape. So, grab your metaphorical love magnifying glass and get ready to decode the subtle nuances that make your heart dance with joy.

Chapter Five: Love Language Book Test – The Literary Adventure of Love

For the bibliophiles among us, there's a Love Language Book Test that takes the romantic journey to new literary heights. Imagine your love life as a bestselling novel, and this test is the annotated guide to each plot twist and character development. It's like joining a book club where the only membership requirement is an insatiable curiosity about your own heart.

Dive into the pages of the Love Language Book Test, where each question is a chapter waiting to be explored. Will your love story unfold like a classic romance novel, a thrilling mystery, or maybe even a science fiction epic? Only the pages of this test can reveal the narrative arc of your heart's desires.

Chapter Six: Love Language Exam – A Crash Course in Emotional Intelligence

If you thought exams were only for classrooms, think again! The Love Language Exam is your crash course in emotional intelligence, where your heart takes center stage as the protagonist of a love-filled saga. It's time to put on your emotional thinking cap and answer questions that will make your heart do a happy jig.

Approach the Love Language Exam with the enthusiasm of a student embarking on a journey of self-discovery. There are no pop quizzes or trick questions here – just an opportunity to delve into the depths of your emotions and emerge wiser, more attuned to the symphony of your heartstrings.

Chapter Seven: Test of 5 Love Languages – A Symphony of Affection

Now, let's talk about the Test of 5 Love Languages, where your heart becomes the conductor of a symphony of affection. Each love language is like a musical instrument, playing its unique notes in harmony to create a melody that resonates with the depths of your soul.

As you navigate the Test of 5 Love Languages, imagine yourself as the maestro of your own emotional orchestra, guiding the strings of words, percussion of actions, and the sweet melodies of gifts, time, and touch. The result? A love composition more enchanting than a serenade under the moonlight.

Chapter Eight: Love Languages Unleashed – The Power of Understanding

By now, you're probably wondering, "What's the big deal with love languages, and why should I care?" Well, dear reader, understanding your love language and that of your partner is like unlocking a treasure chest of emotional riches. It's the secret sauce to creating a connection that goes beyond the surface, a roadmap to navigating the twists and turns of a lasting relationship.

In the grand scheme of things, knowing your love language isn't just about deciphering your own preferences; it's about learning to speak the language of those you hold dear. It's the difference between saying, "I love you" and expressing love in a way that resonates with the unique melody of your partner's heart.

Chapter Nine: Test on Love Language – A Journey Beyond the Surface

As we approach the final chapters of our love-filled saga, let's talk about the Test on Love Language – a journey that goes beyond the surface of sweet gestures and tender moments. It's an exploration of the intricacies that make relationships as diverse and fascinating as a bouquet of wildflowers.

Consider the Test on Love Language as your passport to the uncharted territories of emotional landscapes. Each question is a stepping stone, leading you to the heart of your desires, aspirations, and the intricate dance of your affections. So, buckle up for the emotional rollercoaster, because this test is about to take you on a ride more exhilarating than a first kiss.

Chapter Ten: Love Languages Reimagined – A Tale of Everlasting Connection

As we reach the climax of our love language adventure, it's time to reimagine the concept altogether. Love Languages aren't just a set of categories; they're the building blocks of everlasting connection. It's not about fitting into predefined boxes but embracing the fluidity of emotions, the ever-changing dance of love.

Picture Love Languages as a kaleidoscope of emotions, constantly shifting and evolving with each passing moment. The beauty lies in the unique patterns that emerge when two hearts intertwine, creating a tapestry of connection that's as timeless as a Shakespearean sonnet.

In conclusion, dear reader, the Love Language Test is more than just a quiz; it's a journey into the heart of what makes relationships tick. It's the compass that guides you through the labyrinth of emotions, helping you decode the secret language of love. So, grab your emotional toolkit and embark on this adventure – because the greatest love story is the one you write with your heart.

#love language #love langauges #5 love languages

[bmpmp3]

Last night I had a dream where there were these dudes who were like....fairy god mothers or something? Like some kinda guardian angel or like, magical girl mascot mentor creature (in the sense of that's the story role they took, they looked like normal humans lol) and they all had their specific assigned person (in the dream all the humans assigned to these people were girls for some reason which is why i make the magical girl mascot mentor comparison lol) and they had like, subtle magical powers? wasnt super bombastic, their abilities, but they could conjure a thing or two, they're main job was basically protect their person and try to cheer them up, that kinda thing

So like the main character of the dream was the new guy, he was like a brand new fairy godmother and his character was sorta the very low energy and stoic type with a grumpy looking face, so both he and his peers were kinda worried he would struggle actually making his assigned person happy so he vowed to himself that he was gonna really put his all into this and like try to front like a super outgoing person

So he meets his person and she's the daughter of a super rich family in a big mansion with lots of maids and everything and her parents are super busy with business or rich people things or whatever so she's usually pretty alone, shes very quiet and like, the archetype of the Perfect Non-confrontational Smart And Pleasant Daughter so the fairy godmother guy really struggles with her at first cause he just can't figure out what to do for her, every time he asks if there's anything she'd like him to do like make her a cool outfit or give her a present shes just like I don't need anything and smiles and leaves so he starts trying out anything like throwing her a party with all the maids or giving her flashy presents and he tries to be super fun and outgoing but she doesn't seem particularly interested in any of it, just kinda smiles and walks away every time, it isn't until later when

Wait hold up here's an aside but in the dream the fairy god mothers looked like really average humans like just some guy in a t shirt and jeans but they're not human and they don't really need to eat and at night they sleep super weird so like lots of people in this girls town have their own fairy godmother and every night they all go to a lake in the middle of the town and like, take shitty lil rowboats into the middle and like hibernate there the whole night...

Anyway one night when the girls fairy godmother was going off to the lake to sleep when he noticed how late the girl's parents pulled into her mansions driveway and he was like damn they're never home when she's awake huh... The next day is the girls birthday and Mr fairy godmother realizes that her parents probably won't be there to celebrate it for her so he hatches a plan to set up a birthday party for her before she wakes up, so he works on that but he's doing it all by himself this time, no help from the maids or even his fellow fairy godmothers, so he basically ended up with a bunch of the dinkiest homemade decorations and an ugly (but delicious) cake that he decorated himself (it just said "birthday :) " in messy letters lol) and he basically works the whole night on it so when it's finally day and the girl comes down and sees the dorky lil party he set up he's too tired to put on a high energy front so he's just kinda sleepy and stoic and is like "happy birthday zzzzzz" and the girl hugs him and cries a lil bit of happy tears cause it turns out all this girl wanted was a friend who was honest with himself so she could be honest with him too so she wouldn't have to put on the perfect daughter front anymore and now he's being honest even if it's dorky so she finally opens up to him hzgdbsjs it was very cute and sappy

Don't read the bottom half of this dream if you want it to stay cute tho cause my subconscious decided that the next part should be inexplicably dark for some reason qwq

Anyway the fairy godmother and his girl have a lot more fun and they becomes very cute friends and it's very sweet and then one night on the lake when he's tryna sleep he noticed one other fairy godmother who's boat is usually next to him isn't around so he goes looking for his sleep neighbor when he finds him on the edge of the lake covered in blood (not his own, also I don't know if the fairy god mothers have blood) next to a pile of bodies of a whole bunch of fairy godmother's assigned people (I don't know if his girl was in there too or if she was still fine oof) and the (absolutely horrified) main character godmother is like bruh why and the other fairy godmother was like "there's a flaw in our programming" and then I woke up at that point and I was like whadda hell was that last bit and then I got up and ate a waffle

#dream journal #last night i had finished reading shiki because six years ago a friend recommended it to me so all the characters in the dream looked #like shiki character designs that is to say they looked like fucked up yugioh characters #also impromptu review for shiki: it was kinda bad and not in the way that i usually like bad stuff gdbrjejd #i mean it was fine....but man i heard it described as a slow burn bro this wasnt slowburn horror #this was like super fast burn for the first third and then stagnant for the rest #and i mean i love me some dramatic irony but god i just dont think it worked here #it basically answers all your questions about the mystery in the first few chapters which can be okay in some stories #but here i dont think it worked honestly instead of feeling dread watching these characters who dont know what i know really go thru it #i was just kinda okay alright i get it can we move on hurry it up babe i got shit to do #i think it was cuz all the chapters with dramatic irony were written like straight mysteries instead of like we know but thr characters don #like it was written like were supposed to be wondering whats going on even tho weve know for like seven chapters now #it was mainly a framing problem #also the messaging was a lil muddled later on especially how hard the last third goes on tryna get you to feel bad for the shiki #i dunno i just felt it was kinda a mess #there were some cool ideas and scenes tho especially early on #vampire media really already has an uphill battle to make me like it cause i feel so little towards vampires #so alas shiki couldnt do it #i did think it was hilarious the werewolf guy with the yugioh hair and the fattest ass youve ever seen #like one shot of him was supposed to be scary but i was too distracted by that cake #anyway yeah for some reason all the characters in the dream looked like shiki characters despite having nothing to do with em lol

[yoon-kooks]

how many | jjk | 3

Pairing: Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, BadBoy!AU

Summary: To Jeon Jungkook, you’re just the cutie who sits across from him in art class. He doesn’t have a clue that you’re also the hidden face of his favorite tattoo artist on social media. When the bad boy notices you’ve taken a surprising interest in his ink, he dares you to explore every inch of his body until all of his tattoos are accounted for. Tempted by his irresistible smile and delicate touch, you might even let him in on your little secret.

Word Count: 6.6k

Parts: 0 ◆ 1 ◆ 2 ◆ 3 ◆ 4 ◆ 5 ◆ 6

Warnings: sexual activity in a hot tub, dry humping, fingering, jungkook touches some boobies, smut from a fluff writer

A/N: we've finally reached the first smutty chapter🦆

◆ the one you found in the hot tub ◆

“So do you have any plans after this?” your client asks as you finish up the last few details on her shark tattoo. “It’s a beautiful Friday night.”

Usually, your answer would be no. You’ve never really been the type to make hangout plans, but tonight is a little different. You do in fact have plans.

“I’m meeting up with a friend to work on an art project for class,” you say. It might not sound like much to other people, but it took an immense amount of courage to ask Jungkook to spend his Friday night making art with you. Sure, you chickened out of asking him out on a real date, but at the very least, you won’t be procrastinating on school work.

“Aww man, school really ruins all the fun, doesn’t it.” The woman looks like she feels genuinely bad for you. You’d probably agree with her if you didn’t have feelings for the boy you’re meeting up with. In fact, school is the best excuse you have for spending more time with him, so you’ll gladly welcome any and all assignments your art professor wants to throw at you.

“Do you have anything planned tonight?” You feel like it’s only polite to ask your clients the same questions they ask you. It makes the small talk a little easier.

“Since the weather’s so nice, I was thinking about taking a spontaneous trip down to the beach with my boyfriend.” She has a huge grin like the kind you’d find on posters promoting dental hygiene, and her eyes glisten with something you’re envious of. You wonder if that’s what it looks like to be in love. “The weatherlady said we won’t have sun like this again for a while, so this is basically our last chance to take advantage of it.”

You’re reminded of that cute bikini you bought a while back but never wore. All this time, you’ve been waiting for someone to swim with. And maybe you finally have someone.

A hazy image comes to mind. It’s a shirtless Jungkook squeezing squiggly white lines of sunscreen all over his body like mayonnaise on a deli sandwich. It’s all cute and dorky until he starts rubbing it into his muscles and all that skin and asks for your assistance. 

You’d probably be enjoying this brief daydream, but your brain has decided to place a giant mosaic over Jungkook’s entire torso because that part of his body is still very much a mystery to you. He might have a hundred more tattoos under that mosaic, or he might not have any there at all. You’d like to know either way, and part of you hopes he’s just as curious about your body.

Your beachside fantasy suddenly fades away into dark clouds. Based on the weatherlady’s predictions, there’s a 0% chance of seeing the real Jungkook sporting swim trunks in the near future, which means you need to stop drooling over the thought of it.

Unless you decide to make a move tonight.

“Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to swim and ruin this beauty.” Your client points to the completed shark on her thigh and waves off any concern you might have about disrupting the healing process. “I just want to spend a romantic evening at the beach with my man, you know what I mean?”

You nod. Even though you know what she means, you can’t quite relate in a way you wish you could.

As you lock up your shop for the night, you check the time on your phone. The appointment was shorter than expected, so you still have a good chunk of time before you need to meet Jungkook at the art building. After running some quick calculations, you figure it’s just enough time to go home and change into something cuter.

As expected, your beachy conversation with your client has you staring at the bikini hanging on your doorknob with the tags still intact. You do your best to convince yourself this is a good idea. It’s a warm Friday night, your art project isn’t technically due until Monday, you’d get to see a shirtless Jeon Jungkook without the mosaic, and he’d get to see you in that cute bikini.

Fuck it. It’s now or never.

So after throwing on a floral mini dress over your bikini, you dash out the door and type up a cute message for Jungkook.

Y/N🍑 [8:14PM] “you might want to bring a swimsuit in case the watercolors get messy👙”

After an hour of diligent painting, you hear Jungkook drop his brush into his palette. When you turn to him, he’s staring at all the progress you’ve made on your canvas. While he has the early stages of a peaceful waterfall in the works, you’re already fine-tuning your little beach paradise.

“Hey, is there any kind of art you aren’t good at?” he asks, washing his brushes and putting the paints back as if to say he’s done for the night. After adding highlights to the lazy waves rolling up the sand, you join in on the cleaning spree.

“Nope,” you lie. Art comes naturally to you, but there are still plenty of things you haven’t even tried yet, like sculpting or graffiti.

“So you’re even good at body art?” The boy raises his pierced brow.

“That’s my specialty, actually.” It sounds like sarcasm coming from someone like you, but Jungkook doesn’t know it’s the truth. You grab a black marker and hold your hand out, just as he had done on the day you met him. He gives you the hand that isn’t all tatted up with letters and symbols. “What do you want?” you ask.

Jungkook takes his time in giving you a response, but you aren’t complaining about the prolonged handholding. His dark brown eyes fall on your lips and then your neck. And then slightly below that.

“I think you know what I want, Y/N.” Despite the suggestiveness in his words, his tone is playful with only a hint of mischief.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I have an idea.” You start drawing a mythical canine of some sort in typical @snowsleeve fashion, trying hard not to visualize what the boy actually wants.

But you saw the look in his eye. He wants to pin you to the ground, tear that tiny little dress off of you, and taste every last inch of your body until it’s impossible to breathe. That could explain why he was so eager to clean up. 

No, that’s just what you want him to do to you. Ever since he kissed you against your door that one afternoon, you’ve been thinking a lot about what might come next. If a mere kiss felt that good, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have him on top of you. He’d ruin you.

“Wait, this is actually a sick tattoo.” Jungkook flexes his fingers and holds the back of his hand up to you as if you weren’t the artist who drew the design for him. It’s an icy white wolf carrying a carrot in its mouth.

“You should get @snowsleeve to do that for you.” Maybe without the carrot, though.

“Oh, right…” The boy doesn’t sound too thrilled that you brought @snowsleeve up. In fact, he looks a bit discouraged. “She left me on read after I sent that DM, so I don’t know if our highly anticipated appointment is going to happen or not.”

“You were left on read?” You force a laugh. Of all people to leave Jeon Jungkook on read, you can’t believe it was you. It wasn’t on purpose though. You just forgot to respond. “She was probably just busy and forgot about it.”

“That’s what they said about my ex until I never heard from her again,” he says with a straight face. You’re only 90% sure he’s just fucking with you.

“Well, if she doesn’t respond to you soon, I’ll do the tattoo for you myself.” You make a mental note to send a response when you get home. The poor boy needs to be put out of his misery as soon as possible.

“Thanks, I might have to take you up on that offer.” He once again admires the carrot-wielding wolf on his hand without even questioning the legitimacy of your ability to etch an actual tattoo into his skin. “I wouldn’t be too upset if it were you leaving your mark on my body.”

The tattoo somehow holds more weight when he puts it that way. It only excites you more to know that he wholeheartedly trusts you with his body–the same way you’d trust him with yours.

“By the way, were you ever going to explain why I’m wearing swim trunks?” He points at his maroon swim trunks, and you accidentally get a good look at his crotch. You blame his finger for leading your naive eyes in that direction.

“I already told you, Jungkook.” You don’t know why your voice feels so tiny all of a sudden. “Watercolor can get a little messy.”

“But we didn’t really make a mess,” he chuckles, gesturing to the space that’s practically cleaner now than when the two of you first arrived. Then he steps closer to you and dabs something wet and cold onto your cheek. It smells like paint. “Except for right here.”

You hate how freaking cute he is when he grins like that after such a devilish deed. You’re a big advocate of payback, but you already dumped all of the murky paint water down the drain. Instead, you have to settle for wiping the blue paint off your cheek and onto the boy’s oversized black tee. Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s still waiting on an acceptable explanation for the swim trunks.

“My thought process was that paint would get all over us, and then we’d have no choice but to rinse off at the pool.” You would’ve mentioned the beach instead, but you’d rather not walk in on your client’s romantic evening with her man.

“Sounds legit,” he nods, taking your hand as the two of you exit the art room. Thank god he’s willing to play along with your silly excuse. Though, from the corner of your eye, you see the edge of his lips twitch upward into a smug little smirk. “Or you could’ve just said you wanted to see me shirtless.”

If not for the soft squeeze he gives your hand, you probably would’ve barked back. He soothes you just as easily as he teases you. The very essence of your relationship is cozy intimacy, the perfect balance of warmth and mischief. 

The locked gates do little to stop Jungkook from helping you up and over and into the pool area on campus. The lights are off, the pool is quiet, and nobody else is around. You’re not sure what the consequences are for sneaking into the pool after hours, but you’d like to think it’s worth it on a rare night like this.

You dip the tip of your toe into the pool and wince. Even in this warm weather, the water is cold enough to send chills down your spine. With a frown, you scurry over to the hot tub and press what you assume to be the on button. There’s a slight delay before the lights flash on and the hot tub starts to bubble.

You crouch down and keep your hand in the water as it heats up, mesmerized by the cascading sounds of the jets. It reminds you of the serene waterfall scene Jungkook was painting earlier.

Speaking of Jungkook, you glance over your shoulder to make sure he isn’t about to pick you up and toss you into the freezing cold pool. By now, you know the boy well enough to anticipate shenanigans like that. But instead, you catch him pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside onto the nearest lounge chair.

His title as a regular at the gym is well represented by his defined muscles and healthy glow. Just by staring at his abs, you feel motivated to make better fitness decisions, and you almost overlook the winged figure on his ribs. At first, you think it’s a butterfly, but it’s starting to look more like an angel. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring or what facial expression you’re making, but Jungkook laughs and says, “You look like you’ve never seen a shirtless male before.”

You snap out of your daze and splash some warm water in his direction. “For your information, I’ve seen plenty of shirtless males in my lifetime.” 

Jungkook cocks his head. “Oh yeah? How many?”

“More than I can count.” You’re mostly referring to your male clients who’ve asked for tattoos somewhere above the belt, but Jungkook can keep thinking you’re a sex goddess for all you care.

He walks up to the edge of the hot tub and stares down at you squatting there. “You must be pretty experienced then,” he says, eyeing the buttons that run down the front of your mini dress. “So were you planning on getting into the water in that dress, or…?”

You believe that’s his not-so-subtle way of asking you to strip. As shy as you’ve been tonight, you hop up onto your feet beside him and undo your dress, one button at a time, until there’s nothing covering your body but a skimpy black bikini. Jungkook watches the whole thing without blinking. “You could’ve just said you wanted to see me undress,” you tease.

The boy nods along to whatever the heck you’re saying, too distracted to speak as he takes in the sight of your bare skin. So much bare skin. His pupils are dilated like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. After a solid twenty seconds, he must realize he’s doing a bad job of hiding his sexual urges because he feels the need to explain why he’s looking at you so intently. “I’m just checking for any hidden tattoos you might have.”

“Find any yet?” You turn your hips and give him a good look at your ass before disappearing into the hot tub. There’s not a single tattoo visible on your body as far as he can see.

He shakes his hair out of his man bun, follows you in, and takes a seat opposite you. “I’m really starting to think you don’t have any tattoos, Y/N.”

“Well, you’re running out of places to check.” At this point, he’s pretty much seen it all aside from what’s directly under the bikini. That either means you have no tattoos at all, or you have a secret one hiding somewhere off-limits. 

The slight possibility of the latter has Jungkook reaching out and pulling you toward him. The momentum of the water draws you right into his lap. His eager hands slip into your bikini bottoms and cup your ass so that you won’t drift away–not that you’d want any sort of distance from him anyway. Lately, it’s been the opposite. You’ve been waiting and wanting to close the gap until your body finally overlaps with his.

“Where should I check first?” he asks. For just a second, he allows himself to admire the contours of your breasts like they’re true works of art. He’d probably free you of your tiny top and sling it over the gates if his hands weren’t so busy caressing you down below.

“Anywhere you like.” You wrap your arms around his neck so that the firm grip on your ass isn’t the only thing holding you in place. Hopefully, that encourages him to use his hands to pleasure and explore the rest of your body.

“I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself with that much power, Y/N.” You feel his words travel up your neck until his mouth finds a nice spot to kiss, suck, and taint with his deepest desires. The sloppy and desperate nips at your skin are a sign that he’s been craving your taste for a while. He’s already lost control.

His hands run up the sides of your waist and flirt with the idea of teasing your breasts. At first, he respects the two triangles covering you up, but the perky little buds poking through are clearly inviting him in. He pushes the stretchy fabric aside and just barely grazes your nipples with his thumbs, sending a friendly warning through your body and down to your core. 

Before you know it, his palms have completely replaced the two triangles, except they’re larger and have a stronger hold on you. His fingers dip into your breasts, longer than a casual squeeze and purely for his own selfish needs. You’ve never seen him so focused on a task. You wonder if he’s trying to run the algorithm to calculate your cup size in that empty head of his. He’s probably getting an error code because you’re starting to feel the frustration building in his veiny grip.

“This okay?” What a gentleman he is for asking while groping the utter shit out of you. 

“Any touch from you is more than okay, Jungkook,” you assure him. That being said, you drag one of his hands from your chest down your stomach. The tips of his fingers are just a centimeter away from entering your bikini bottoms at the front entrance. You look him right in the eye when you say, “But this would be much appreciated.”

His long hair shades his face as he glances down at how you’re still tugging his wrist with a sense of urgency. “I can’t imagine innocent Y/N being this forward with anyone else,” he says, looking smug as ever.

You hate that he’s right. Maybe that’s why your previous relationships all ended the way they did. You never felt comfortable asking for more from anyone, so you’d settle for whatever was given to you, which often wasn’t enough. But these days, you feel like you’re starting to know your worth. And what you deserve is a boy like Jeon Jungkook and his very tempting fingers.

He slows down the pace as he traces the skin between your navel and the string tied at your waist. The slower he goes, the more sensitive you become to the slightest of grazes. At that rate, the two of you could be here all night, still inching toward some form of release. You wouldn’t mind that too much. 

He barely crosses your bikini line before you become acutely aware of how erotic your breathing is beginning to sound. Apparently, it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

“So naughty.” He presses his hot lips into your collarbone. Your back arches in response and anticipation. Just when you think he’s about to take the plunge, he retracts his entire hand. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for it yet.”

You intend on responding with an irritated growl, but what comes out of your mouth is more like a whimper from a puppy in heat. As it turns out, that needy sound is what sets the boy off. You feel him stiffening beneath your crotch, desperate for more friction. He adjusts himself just a bit so that the length of his erection is pressed right up against your folds. The only thing standing between you and his cock is the fabric of your swimsuits. And boy, can you feel how thin the spandex is.

You pull back from all the attention he’s giving your body to assess his current state. His chest heaves and his skin is flushed, whether from the intensity between you and him or the heat of the water. You must be at that same point if not further along–even underwater, you can feel the slick coating between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how much you’re dripping when he hasn’t even ventured there yet.

You run your fingers through his damp locks of hair and press your lips against his. Your tongue wrestles with his in a way that’s a lot less graceful than the first time he kissed you, but you aren’t complaining. 

“You taste like cotton candy,” he says, licking his lips. You’re pleasantly surprised that he could identify the exact flavor of your lip balm. What a wholesome detail for the bad boy to pick up on in the midst of something so sinful.

“You taste like green Listerine,” you reply when he gives you another chance to breathe. “And you smell like Old Spice.”

“C’mon, Y/N. You know I can do better than Old Spice.” He frowns and mentions some fancy French brand with notes of vanilla, chestnuts, and cinnamon. It’s intoxicating.

“Well, whatever it is, I like it.” You already know you’ll forever associate that scent with everything you’re feeling in this hot tub. Passion and pleasure. Love and lust.

“Good, because I picked it out with you in mind,” he says before diving back into your mouth. His hands find their way to your hips and rub them in a circular motion. He even lifts you up and adjusts your ass a few times to generate any sort of relief for his erection. He’s getting impatient.

The water swishes about in a choppy manner as you start rolling your hips, grinding your crotch against the solid mass in his trunks. It’s impossible not to feel how large he is. If you had to guess, you’d say his cock is bigger than any of the ones you’ve ridden. But you’ll have to see it to believe it when the time comes.

As the pleasure continues to build, you almost forget that you’re still wearing your bikini in a hot tub and aren’t naked in his bed. Because no one ever told you grinding against him like this would feel better than making love under the sheets. Then again, you’re sure Jungkook would find a way to one-up himself and provide you with the best sex of your life. 

The boy is clearly enjoying himself as well, but something tells you he’s still lusting for more. He moans profanity into your mouth and tugs at the strings of your bikini bottoms. One side comes undone, and then the other. You’d normally be horrified at the sight of your bikini drifting away on the surface of a public pool, but you don’t seem to really mind when it’s just you and Jungkook.

“Are there security cameras around here?” You only ask because it’d be kind of awkward if the security guard just watched your bikini be torn off as steamy events unfolded in the hot tub.

“I don’t know. Probably.” The boy apparently can’t be bothered by the threat of an audience while he’s running his fingers along your inner thigh. Is it a coincidence that your body is the most sensitive it’s ever been as he purposely avoids the place between your legs? Coincidence or not, you need him to cooperate soon because your body is starting to act on its own and you refuse to hit your high before you’ve learned exactly what his fingers can do to you.

“We’re gonna get in trouble if the security guard ever sees this.” Your moans get a little louder and your hips move a little harder against him. His cock must be throbbing and past the point of no return, and yet, he doesn’t ask for any favors from you. Right now, he only cares about satisfying the needs of you and your body.

“You were in trouble from the second I sat across from you in class,” he whispers into your ear. Without warning, he slips two fingers between your legs and rubs your swollen little clit until you can’t think straight anymore. Your head snaps back from the sudden surge in pleasure, and the lewd sound that escapes your throat is something you’d only expect to hear in a pornographic setting. You swear you’ve touched yourself in that same exact way, and yet it feels so much better when he’s the one in control. 

His fingers somehow know the perfect speed and pressure to send you to the edge and keep you there. Fuck, no man has ever touched you like that. Your body has never felt so hot and sensitive, so intense and frenzied, all at the same time. You haven’t even come yet, and he’s already put your entire history of orgasms to shame. Not one single orgasm can compare to what you’re feeling right now, and you’d like to think you’ve had a fair amount of good sex in the past. But not anymore. 

You’re not ignorant, either. Something that feels that good takes a lot of practice. The thought of him fingering and fucking his other female friends isn’t pleasant, but at least it’s you who gets to experience him at his best. In fact, you’ll personally thank the gals of Jungkook’s past for helping him become the sex god he is today.

And then his fingers stop. Everything stops, except for your growing frustration when he doesn’t budge after five whole seconds. You can’t decide if you’re glad or upset that he’s left one finger right on your clit. Either way, you’re going to lose your goddamn mind if he keeps torturing you like this.

“Jung. Kook. Please,” you beg him in your best horny voice. You’re confident you can negotiate with him to get on with it, but when you come back to your senses and take a peek at him, he’s glancing over your shoulder.

You turn your head and follow his line of sight to a large group of friends hopping over the gate and catapulting right into the pool. Startled, you snatch your bikini bottoms from the water’s surface and unwrap yourself from Jungkook. 

His fingers slip out from beneath you as you situate yourself to be sitting thigh-to-thigh with him. You lean in and whisper, “Don’t these people know the pool is closed?” as if you weren’t also guilty of ignoring the padlock on the gate or the twenty signs that clearly said “closed.”

“I’m pretty sure we broke more rules than them tonight,” Jungkook says, straightening the little triangles over your breasts. “It’s a shame we were interrupted, but I don’t mind making you wait a little longer.”

And then he smirks. You knew it. He enjoyed making you squirm and beg for his touch. And you can’t believe you were in such a helpless and horny state, only to be walked in on by some trespassing hooligans. You’re thankful for the shroud of steam around the hot tub because you assume it’s the only thing hiding the embarrassment on your face. 

“Are you still aching for me?” He examines your face closely. The sweat dripping down your forehead is doing a shitty job of disguising itself as pool water. You’re clearly flustered. Maybe the heat can’t save you after all.

To top it off, the ghost of his touch is a tingling sensation you won’t be able to soothe until you get home. The sad thing is that your own fingers won’t be able to make you feel what his fingers made you feel. The lack of action between your legs is pure torture, and Jeon Jungkook is very aware of that.

“I promise I’ll make it worth the wait,” he whispers, confirming that there will indeed be another time for intimacy and everything that comes with it. Without any interruptions.

“Hey, Jungkook!” one of the hooligans shouts from the other side of the pool. The group waves at the campus celebrity beside you.

“You know them?” You squint your eyes, but you don’t recognize any of those faces from your art class.

“No… but I guess they know me.” Jungkook waves his hand in their direction–the same hand that was running circles around your clit just moments before. You’re only a little bitter.

“Of course. Everyone knows you because that’s what it means to be an influ–”

“Y/N, please don’t say it.” He’s burying his face into his hand. That hand.

“Influencer,” you hum. “You know, if I had that many followers, I’d probably end up hiding my face. I’m not really a fan of strangers knowing me like that.”

“Well, not to sound conceited, but I only have that many followers because of my face.” You can barely hear him over the jets. He stares at his muddled reflection on the bubbly surface. The underwater lights illuminate his face. The starry sky has nothing on him. What a beautiful human being. “And while they might know my face, my name, and my tattoos, there are a lot of things those people will never know about me.”

“For example?”

“I’m more than a casual viewer of anime–I read the manga, too,” he admits. “And I used to wanna marry Sailor Mars.”

Who would’ve thought Jungkook was a Sailor Moon fanboy? “Go on,” you chuckle. 

“I watch a lot of those nature videos about the world’s tiniest cat and endangered rhinos. You know the ones, right?” He looks at you with the expectation that you also sit at your computer all day watching similar videos about baby salamanders.

You don’t actually know what the fuck he’s talking about, but you nod anyway. “Okay, what else?”

“I still play Pokémon Go.” He pulls up the app and scrolls through an endless list of captured mons. He has a nickname for every single one of them. “My Pokédex is 87% complete.”

“Probably should’ve kept that one to yourself, you nerd.” You give his thigh a squeeze, only to remember how toned and hard they felt beneath your ass. Must be from all the running around he does while catching Charizards. “Any other dark secrets I can tease you about?”

Jungkook loops his pinky around the one you have resting on his thigh. “I’ll tell you another if you promise not to tease me about it.”

“Whatever it is, I won’t tease you about it,” you promise. “As long as it’s not about you naming your Diglett ‘Dicklette.’” You also saw Psydick, Cockuna, and Cuboner in his Pokédex, but you decide not to mention those.

“I can’t believe you fucking saw that,” he groans. “And no, of course it’s not that.”

“Okay, then it’s a promise.” You snuggle closer to the boy and rest your head on his shoulder. Something about the combined scent of chlorine and Jungkook’s chestnutty cologne is oddly therapeutic.

“Do you think becoming a tattoo artist is a realistic career path?” he asks. The pinky promise has slowly morphed into something along the lines of your hand fitting perfectly into his. You’re honored that he’s comfortable enough to confide in you about an undecided future. You’d love to help him in any way you can.

You smile. “You asked the right person because I’m never going to say no to that question.”

At first, he doesn’t say anything. Maybe that wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he should’ve already known your stance on this one. You have full faith in his talent as an artist, but you’re starting to think he needs a confidence boost. Especially after he says, “Y/N, I appreciate how supportive you are of our tattoo agenda, but I need you to tell me I’m a shitty artist who should stick with becoming a software engineer.”

“You’re a shitty artist who should stick with becoming a software engineer,” you repeat in your best Jeon Jungkook voice. It takes you an extra second to process the words that just came out of your mouth. “Wait, you’re a comp sci major? I always just assumed you were an art major.”

“I’m double majoring in both.” Jungkook shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Now he sounds conceited.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was practically having sex in a hot tub with the biggest nerd on the planet,” you joke, intentionally leaving out the part about him also being the hottest boy in the universe. “I mean that as a compliment, by the way.”

“Thanks?” he laughs.

“But seriously, I don’t think it’s bad if you want to make tattoos a part of your career, Jungkook.” It takes everything in you to not overshare. Not yet, anyway. But as someone who grew up in the apartment right above a tattoo parlor, you know exactly how it feels to dream of living that life. “If you ask me, I think it’s just a matter of committing and injecting ink into your first willing victim.”

“Are you volunteering to be my first victim?” He tilts his head and follows every movement in your eyes. Why does he have to look so doe-eyed and adorable while talking like a freshly turned vampire?

Of course you’d love a tattoo from Jungkook himself, but you’re clearly not the type to make impulsive decisions when it comes to body art. And you do in fact have a reason for that.

“I actually have pretty low pain tolerance and a slight fear of needles,” you admit. It’s one thing to use needles on the skin as art tools, and an entirely different thing to be the one getting poked. A lot of other tattoo artists and enthusiasts can’t take you seriously because of that. But something tells you Jungkook won’t hold it against you. He might even find it endearing. 

“Is that the reason behind your lack of body art?” Jungkook runs the pads of his fingers along your bare arms. You already know he’s thinking of all the things he could do with a canvas as pure as your skin. The possibilities are endless.

You nod. For a tattoo artist, it’s incredible that you haven’t come up with tattoo designs that would justify the pain you’d have to endure. That is, until Jungkook drew that cute little bunny on your hand. Ever since that day, you’ve been more willing to step outside your comfort zone in more ways than one. “But if you’re serious about becoming a tattoo artist, I’d be down to give it a go.”

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. You hope he understands that there’s no way to be gentle when it comes to tattoos. Unless he was referring to something else. “And just for the record, I’m still not ruling out the slight possibility of you having a tattoo hidden somewhere. For all I know, you could’ve had a painful first tattoo experience and that’s what’s kept you for getting any more.”

“Hm, maybe.” You casually tiptoe around his theory and point at the winged figure on his ribs. “Did this one hurt? I heard that spot is pretty bad.”

Jungkook looks down and says, “Yeah, this little guy hurt like a bitch.”

“Is it a butterfly or an angel?” You wish the jets would stop for a moment so you could get a better look at the design below the surface.

He stands up out of the water to show you what it looks like without anything obscuring it. The water droplets streaming down his torso are only mildly distracting with how they follow the paths carved out for them by his abs. That must be the science behind what makes lifeguards and swimsuit models exceptionally attractive. 

“It’s called a fairy, Y/N…” He sounds disappointed by your ignorance. Your bad for not being raised by Tinker Bell or Cosmo & Wanda.

“That was my next guess,” you frown, following him out of the water and toward the towel rack. “It’s cute.”

“It reminds me of you.” He stops in the middle of drying off to point to the fairy’s tiny bundle of yellow flowers and the faint black flames that follow her. She’s an odd mix of cute & sexy, compassionate & unapologetic. It’s a feisty little fairy brought to life in an art style you’ve become quite familiar with recently.

“You designed it yourself, right?” Even before he answers, you know your eyes aren’t deceiving you. This is a Jeon Jungkook original if you ever saw one. He’d make a fantastic tattoo artist, and you wish he could see that.

He nods. “I got it after my last breakup. It’s supposed to embody the kind of person I think would be good for me.”

You give the fairy another look. It’s not exactly like looking in a mirror, but you’d like to think you’re just as kindhearted and tough as the person Jungkook envisions himself with.

“She looks like she’d keep you grounded when your ego is too big, and lift your spirits up when you’re feeling down,” you say. You slip back into your dress but feel the now chilly air against your damp skin. The weatherlady was right.

“Exactly.” It’s you. You’d challenge him just as much as you’d adore him. You’re the person who would be good for him. Perfect even. He pulls his black tee over your head, and you snort when it’s longer than your mini dress.

“Are you going to be warm enough like that, Jungkook?” You feel bad that he’s shirtless while you’re walking to the car in two layers.

“I’m fine.” He really doesn’t seem bothered by the drop in temperature, but he holds out his sleeveless arm, the one closest to you, and says, “This arm is a little cold, though.”

You wrap yourself around his arm like a koala hugging its tree. He might be the shirtless one, but so much warmth radiates from him. It feels like he’s keeping you warm, rather than the other way around.

“Hey, Y/N?” His voice is soft again.

“Hm?”

“Wanna know one last secret?”

“You’re actually triple majoring in archeology? You were Team Jacob and not Team Edward? You always order Hawaiian pizza but pick the pineapples off and eat them separately?” you guess.

“What kind of weirdo does that with their Hawaiian pizza?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“It tastes better that way.” You lift your nose with a hmph, embracing your chaotic energy for what it is.

“I’ll have to try it next time if you ask me out again.” He unlocks his car and opens the door for you. You get a glimpse of the hickey he left on you in the side-view mirror, reminded of the lust that had consumed the two of you in the hot tub earlier. You don’t want to let go of his warmth, but you know you need to get home in order to finish the deed. You might even invite him inside so that he won’t have to go another day without knowing what sex with you feels like from start to finish. Surely he needs that knowledge as much as you do. Especially now that you’ve both gotten a tiny taste of what a night together could entail.

“Ask you out again? I don’t recall ever asking you out in the first place, Jeon,” you feign innocence and let out a yawn. You don’t remember the passenger seat being this cozy, either. 

“So that cute little swimsuit message you sent me was totally not your way of asking me out on a pool date, right?”

“Totally not,” you agree. Before you forget, you pull your phone out of your bag and type out a response from @snowsleeve to Jungkook’s main IG account. After hitting send, you also make the executive decision to give his smaller art account a follow so that he can see that his talent is recognized and respected by fellow artists. “Wait, what was the secret you were going to tell me?”

“The one I was going to tell you before I was interrupted by your accusations about archeology and Twilight?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

His silence lasts for what feels like a century. You lose track of how many stop signs you pass without a response, and it’s getting harder to keep your eyes open. In fact, you aren’t sure if what you hear next is reality or just a dream.

“I’ve got it bad for the cutie who sits across from me in art class.”

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts bad boy au #bts fluff #jungkook #bts

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 14

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

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

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

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

Word Count: 15k+

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

Masterlist

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

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

The taglist is now closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open,” you called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When?” Namjoon asked.

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

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

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

You couldn’t skip another event.

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

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled as you separated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another one to add to the list.

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't catch me complaining."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you learn of it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

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

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

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

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moon had no answers for you.

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

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

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

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

“I could ask you the same thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But they are my parents.”

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

“They aren’t bad people.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

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