#ask again in 6 months the first two books will always be included in my recs
Text
These Destined Ends
Part 6
Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?
Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: (I’m kind of rusty about appropriate warnings so let me know if there’s something I need to add or correct) You dose yourself with poison, he cuts his arm with a knife, you drink his blood, knife play, oral sex female receiving, dirty talk, p in v, some light praise, dubious consent, inappropriate use of a dagger/anal, he fucks you and the dagger essentially fucks him, breeding/pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, black cum ofc, no aftercare
A/N: Alright this chapter is…a lot. The knife scenario I read a few years ago in “Den of Vipers” by K.A Knight and it completely changed my brain chemistry. It inspired me to include a similar situation because it’s so Feyd coded😂😭
Also credits to @sansaorgana for mentioning how Harkonnen blood would be thick and effected by Giedi Prime’s environment and pollution. I love discussing Feyd’s body fluids
Weeks pass before Feyd-Rautha corners you in one of the Baron’s sparse gardens. Garden being a slight exaggeration — really, it’s more of a barren courtyard with a bench. Until your fearsome betrothed strode in, your only company was a few scraggly bushes and the fledgling pilingtam tree keeping you in the shade.
Feyd-Rautha hooks his finger in your book and pulls it away. “Come with me.”
You glare balefully at him. “I was reading that.” It’s the only Harkonnen novel you’ve found that you can stomach. “You can’t just beckon me whenever. Or — and this is blasphemy, I know — you could just ask me if I want to go with you.”
Feyd-Rautha closes the book. “No.”
“You lost my page,” you say with a pout. You debate teaching manners to him again, briefly, before sensing that you’re fighting a losing battle. So instead you snatch the book from his hands.
“Two hundred and thirty eight. Now,” he fixes you with a stern look, “let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
Frankly, you don’t care where he’s taking you. Since the Crucible, you’ve been anxiously waiting for something to do besides answering questions about your upcoming nuptials. Your body aches for purpose. Movement. You also realize, with mixed feelings, that you would probably follow Feyd-Rautha wherever he asked you.
What did that say about your state of mind?
“It’s time for training,” he says.
You trail after him, vaguely disappointed that you weren’t going to finish your book. You tuck it under your arm. How bad could poison training be? Maybe you’d have time to flip through a few pages. Feyd-Rautha eyes you as if he can tell what you’re thinking, but doesn’t comment on it.
The fortress is in full swing for the wedding, which looms only a month and a half away. You would think that’s plenty of time to prepare. But servants are hanging decorations, comparing tasks, and cleaning everything in sight. They quiet as you and Feyd-Rautha stroll past them, and you search their faces for Asha.
She’s been just as busy as everyone else. Everyone but you, of course, who, despite your prominent involvement in the wedding, has been left to your own devices. You weren’t exactly thrilled to dose yourself with poison, but at least it gave you something to look forward to.
“How did you first go about this?” You ask the na-Baron. It’s a strange comfort to be in the presence of someone so unperturbed, confident and assured to a fault, sure, but you knew what to expect from him. He was an asshole, but he would be one regardless.
“Poison tolerance?” He asks.
“No, long walks through the fortress.”
Feyd-Rautha ignores you. “It’s a precaution, mostly. Poison-snoopers can be faulty or influenced. It also gives me an…edge…over others.”
“The others being…?”
“Political allies. Enemies.” You catch the hint of a grin on his lips. “It cuts a formidable image when your guest has no concern for poison.”
“As if you don’t already,” you retort.
“You flatter me.”
“Oh, like you’re not aware.” You roll your eyes. “Where are we even going?”
“Somewhere private,” he says.
You raise your brows. Feyd-Rautha pushes his shoulder suddenly against what you thought until that point was a wall, but it swings open on an invisible seam. “Not like that,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. “Although I could never refuse you, wife.”
The room he leads you into is mostly bare except for a few maps on the walls and a table in the center. You recognize the surface of the table as the topography of Giedi Prime, the vast plains and tiny boxes representing the plethora of factories. You ghost your fingers over it. “What is this place?”
“My strategy room.” When you glance at him imploringly, he sighs and adds in a resigned tone, “Sometimes I find working with the other nobles tedious. I spend my time alone if possible.”
“Hm.” You sit down at the table and try to imagine Feyd-Rautha presiding over it, testing out battle strategies and war maneuvers.
You must sink too far into your own thoughts because it startles you when he sets down a small glass in front of you, nestled in the space between two miniature factories. “We need to start small,” he tells you.
“What is this?”
“Poison.”
You shoot him an annoyed look. “It would just be nice to know what poison I’m ingesting, is all.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He plants his hands on the table and assumes a position that you have a hard time believing he doesn’t know stirs something dark within you. “I’m going to be giving you small doses of poisons most typically used throughout the Known Universe.”
“You’re so kind,” you mutter.
He nudges the glass closer to you. “This is the weakest one of them all. We can work our way up, gauge their effects on you.”
“Like what?” You think back to the day in the arena with Ze’ev, how the flip-dart hidden in his clothing quickly incapacitated you, turning your thoughts to sludge.
“Fatigue. Nausea. Potential fevers, chills, heart palpitations.”
“Oh,” you say miserably, “is that all?”
“No, actually,” he replies, oblivious to your fear, “but sometimes it’s better not to know. Drink.”
Your stomach twists with nerves. But he’s watching you in that anxiety-inducing way he tends to, so you tip the contents of the glass down your throat. He smiles.
Poison training is hell.
You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s not this — constantly being gripped by fatigue and nausea, your body battling persistently against the poisons.
The beginning was the worst. You had never thrown up so much in your life. Feyd-Rautha assured you that you were tolerating the poison better than most, but you highly doubted that. You were couch-ridden for days on end, too weak to move or do much more than eat the food he forced you to. But, slowly, you adjusted to the poison, and Feyd-Rautha gave you higher doses, stronger strains.
A week away from your wedding, he declares that he won’t give you anything new. “But you must continue to take the poisons from before,” he tells you. “Or your body will lose the tolerance and also go through withdrawals.”
Today, however, is one of the worst days you’ve had. You did everything right, but for some reason you were rendered completely helpless, body racked by intense shivers. You are huddled in the corner of the couch in the antechamber when Feyd-Rautha finds you, stopping him in his tracks.
“H-H-Hi,” you sputter.
He crosses the room in a single stride, ripping off your blanket and assessing your shuddering form. “You used too much,” he says accusingly.
“I-I-I did what you-you told me,” you protest, albeit weakly.
His frown pierces you. You’re afraid he’s going to reprimand you, but instead he takes a step backward. “Go to the bed.”
“I-I’m f-f-fine. I can s-stay here.”
He looses a sigh then, effortlessly, sweeps you off the couch and over his shoulder. You want to fight against him but it’s taking all of your strength not to shiver and let him know just how poorly you are.
“Put me d-down,” you try your best to say, but with your face buried in his back, it comes out muffled.
Feyd-Rautha resists your pitiful attempts of subterfuge, and carries you into the bedroom like you weigh nothing. It’s your first time actually being on the bed, and his faintly medicinal scent pervades your senses. Had you ever even seen him sleep in here before? How did it smell so strongly of him?
He props you up against the pillows. You attempt to pull up the bedding to ward off your chill, but he stops you, which requires little effort on his part. You blink. In reply, he reaches into the top drawer of his bedside table and takes out a blunt-looking dagger.
“W-What are y-you doing?”
Feyd-Rautha presses the blade of the dagger against his forearm, cuts a thin line that weeps with a thick, dark liquid that you realize is his blood. You feel dizzy.
“Wh-What —”
“Just stop talking,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “We clot quickly. Drink.”
Drink? You're not entirely sure how well your emotions are coming across in your current state, but he must know how insane he sounds. Well, more insane than usual.
"I-I'm not —" Before your eyes, his dark-colored blood ceases. He utters something under his breath and then puts the dagger to his skin again, cutting it back open like slotting an envelope.
He captures a drop of it on his thumb and pushes it between your lips.
It doesn’t taste quite as bitterly sweet as his cum, you decide, but possesses the same sharp bite. It sears slightly as it dances on your tongue, down your throat.
“More,” he says. He sits down at the edge of the bed and raises his forearm to your mouth.
With no other choices, you obey.
The blood is thicker here, his skin warm beneath your mouth as you lick at the shallow wound. Any strangeness you felt at his request vanishes as the potency of his blood hits you. You hungrily take your fill, and by the time the wound closes again, it’s chased away your chills and the murkiness evading your mind.
“There,” he rasps. He sets the dagger down on the bed, still sporting a trace of his blood.
“Why…why?”
Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “Harkonnen blood is its own sort of poison, courtesy of our planet’s pollution and smog. I suspected it would be enough to counterbalance the poison already in your system.”
You fixate on the wound, how the blood has already congealed. “It stopped,” you say stupidly. But how could you be expected to think properly — you had just drank from his arm, from his blood, to stave off poison that you’d willing ingested.
Feyd-Rautha nods. “Another benefit.”
“Anywhere on your body? It does that?”
He indicates the dagger. “See for yourself.”
A chill runs through you, but now for an entirely different reason. You inch closer to him, tucking your legs under you. He’s agonizingly close, his dark gaze flickering across your face as you take the dagger and touch the tip of the blade to his chin.
“Is that just a ploy so that I’ll cut you?” You ask, heart pounding furiously. You discover with a sickening twist that you do want to cut him, want to slide the blade across his smooth skin and watch the way the blood rises to greet you.
Feyd-Rautha breathes, “Perhaps.”
You’ve never seen him so transfixed, so compliant. Eager. And with his very blood in your veins, emboldening you, issuing a high like you’ve never felt before — you press the blade into his skin. Blood trickles out, and you use your tongue to lick it up, the metallic taste of the blade mingling with the sharpness of his blood.
Next you take the dagger across his jaw, down the column of his throat to the divot that flutters with his pulse. And then down down down to his chest, shearing his shirt with a single slice.
Feyd-Rautha has an infuriatingly perfect chest — muscled, small, tight nipples that you tease with the edge of the blade. He inhales sharply.
“You’re disgusting,” you say without conviction, your free hand gliding down his toned stomach.
He tilts his face up to you. The gesture is so vulnerable, his expression so devastatingly beautiful, that you climb into his lap. His cock, straining against his pants, nudges your center.
“I hate you,” you tell him.
He whispers, “I know.”
There’s no telling who kisses who first — an impasse to your game of trading punishments. His hands are on you in an instant, over your body and in your hair, clamoring to touch you as if you might disappear at any moment. You’re equally as fervent, notching your thumbs by his jaw on either side and holding him to you, mouths open and hungry. His tongue dances over your lips, behind your teeth.
Feyd-Rautha is his own kind of poison, infiltrating you slowly and feasting on your insides. And you take him in like his kisses are the anecdote, the touch of his hands soothing the ache that his particular brand of poison causes.
Though, if he is poison, you can never imagine adapting to this — his passionate, consuming touch, the whine of his desperation, how he embraces you like it’s everything he’s ever wanted. No, if he is poison, you never want to learn to tolerate him.
His fingers work deftly at your clothes. The air rushes to caress your breast, hardening your nipples. Feyd-Rautha closes his lips on one as he palms his hand over the other, and the wet warmth of his mouth sends you to the edge. Your back bows in response, urging him closer. He bites down at your nipple, tugs on it, swipes his tongue over it like a soothing balm, then repeats the process on the other side.
As soon as your mind clears enough to form a rational thought, you fumble to unbuckle his pants. He helps you — one hand on your ass for support as he lifts up his hips and you wriggle his pants down over them.
His cock, liberated from his pants, slaps against his stomach. He fists the base and indulges in a series of lazy strokes.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” you say aloud.
Feyd-Rautha, returning his mouth to yours, smirks against you. “Your turn.”
He flips you over onto your back in a seamless maneuver, securing your legs around his waist. Feyd-Rautha lingers above you. His dark gaze roams your form as you shimmy out of your dress, leaving you only in your panties. Sometime before he grabbed the dagger, and now uses it to trace a line from between your breasts to your navel.
You gasp. Pain radiates from the thin cut he made, a terrible, delicious heat.
It’s his turn to tend to you now, hands coasting your body as he licks a stripe up your wound and back down, your blood blanketing his tongue. He pauses at your panties, uses both hands to seize you by the hips and drag you to the very edge of the bed, then kneels before you.
You’re already slick with desire and you want to be ashamed but you can’t, not when he ghosts his mouth over your center and you cry out in need.
“So wet for me, wife,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “You want this cock inside you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you breathe out. You claw at the bedding, pulling it taunt around you.
“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this. To taste you. God, you don’t know how hard it’s been knowing that you’re always just on the other side of that door.” Feyd-Rautha replaces his mouth with the dagger’s blade and you clench in anticipation. The tip of it traces the edges of your panties, your lips, nudges against your entrance. “You infuriate me. I cannot stop thinking of you.”
You’re too overwhelmed to make sense of his admission, but it sends a ripple of delight through you nonetheless. You buck your hips, desperate for the friction that only his mouth can provide.
“Please,” you beg.
The blade of the dagger stills. “Please what?”
“Please.”
You can’t think of anything else to say.
He urges, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I want your mouth on my —”
Feyd-Rautha impatiently cuts away your panties, effectively silencing you. His mouth encloses on your clit. Your words turn into a wail of surprise, of pleasure when he applies pressure with his tongue and then sucks.
Ecstasy spirals through you.
It shouldn’t be a shock that he’s skillful at pleasuring you, at lapping between your lungs like your cunt is the sweetest dessert, yet it still resonates — how he knows exactly when and where to lick, to suckle, to coax more pleading moans from you with his tongue.
And when you come you unravel completely.
“So greedy,” he murmurs as you rise your hips back up to him, beckoning him to continue. “You try to rebel against the idea but you want this cock buried deep inside you, coating you with my cum. Is that right?”
“Yes —”
He slams himself up to the hilt inside you. You cry out in equal parts agony and desire, back bowing, walls stretching to accommodate him. Feyd-Rautha doesn’t wait for you to adjust, drawing out and back in with feverish vigor. His hands pin you to the bed to keep you from arching away, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.
“You feel incredible,” he says, your name falling from your lips like a prayer. “So nice and tight.”
You clench around him. Feyd-Rautha mumbles his appreciation, slows his movements. “I won’t be able to last if you keep doing that,” he tells you, “you feel so good. So fucking good.”
You put up a protest as he withdraws, leaving you feeling horribly empty. Feyd-Rautha turns you onto your belly, ensures that your knees are at the edge of the bed, ass up. A mortifying heat surges through you — completely exposed, vulnerable to his wandering gaze. He runs his hand over your ass, drifts to your soaked cunt.
“I want to possess you wholly.”
You whimper in response. You hear movement from behind, and, in the absence of his attention, dip your hand down to your cunt to alleviate the mounting pressure, but you’re declined the pleasure.
“I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”
He lines himself with your entrance. This time when he seats himself inside you it’s painfully slow, deliberate, every inch driving you closer to another orgasm. Feyd-Rautha starts a slow pace, pulling his cock out till his swollen head brushes past your lips, then back in. Eventually he increases his speed until he’s snapping his hips against you, penetrating you deeply, fully, invoking breathless sounds from both of you.
Feyd-Rautha pursues his pleasure the same way he fights — violent, ruthless in its execution. You’re aware, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, that you’re going to be a quivering mess tomorrow. But in the moment you can only immerse yourself in this man: Feyd-Rautha, the na-Baron, a monster in his own right.
In a burst of bright light, an orgasm cleaves you in half, Feyd-Rautha pumping into you until it surrenders to his darkness. Before you can even recover, you feel the familiar coldness of the dagger’s blade biting into your back, down your spine, circling your ass.
He brushes his thumb over your ass. “Have you ever been taken here before?”
Your breath hitches. “Once.”
Feyd-Rautha emits a satisfied hum. From your peripheral you watch him reach into the bedside table again, this time to fish out a cloth to wipe down the dagger. Your walls clench.
“I want to see this dagger in that pretty ass of yours.”
Feyd-Rautha traces your cunt, gathering your wetness on his fingers to coat the handle of the dagger. He spits on your ass, rubs it over you. “You have to relax,” he rasps. The handle of the dagger pushes against you and you instinctively flex as the first ridge enters you. “Relax, wife.“
You oblige, and he’s able to ease the rest of it inside. It’s tight, full, uncomfortable, but not unbearable. When you feel Feyd-Rautha notch himself at your entrance, alarm seizes you. “What are you —?”
He plunges himself inside you.
And as he does, the blade of the knife punctures his skin with a soft squelch.
You gasp. A growl rumbles through his chest. You can’t see, but you can hear the blade pierce him with each ministration of his hips. You can’t believe him, what he’s doing, but the sounds he makes as he enters you and the dagger enters him at the same time are inescapable, intoxicating. And with the added fullness of his cock and the handle of the dagger, you build towards your orgasm, toes curling.
Feyd-Rautha sinks into you again and again, dagger piercing his side. It prompts a steady stream of his blood that joins with your slickness. His breath quickens. “You take my cock so well. Look at you, so full, so beautiful.”
He slows to remove the dagger from you, taking his time as not to harm you. You shudder. The dagger is tossed to the side still covered in his blood.
“I get to fuck this pretty pussy as much as I want,” he rasps, more to himself than you. “Fill you with my seed, over and over until it takes, then fuck you when you’re pregnant and round with my child. Fuck. I want to see you. I want to see your face as I cum inside you for the first time.”
The image he paints has you gasping for breath. Eager to please, you turn onto your back and present yourself to him. Feyd-Rautha is a god of war, of wrath, wreathed in shadows, and he buries himself into you like he’s seeking redemption. You cry out as he nears his own orgasm, tears blurring your eyes — he sheathes himself fully one final time then spills his seed in your cunt.
Your walls pulse, clamping down around him. He holds you close as he finishes, warm breath fanning your skin, jolting slightly. It’s only when he removes himself, bites playfully at your breast, that you realize the wetness you feel dripping onto your belly is his blood.
“Feyd — what, what were you thinking?” You shove him off you.
He stands, naked form on display, blood dribbling down from the wound in his stomach. It’s distracting, frankly, and it just reminds you of how it had gotten there.
“I wasn’t,” he says simply.
You open your mouth to say something else, reprimand him, maybe, but then he runs his fingers along your thigh and scoops up the cum that’s escaped from inside you. He pushes it back into your cunt, which is still beating with the memory of his cock, blissfully sore.
Feyd-Rautha says, “Don’t worry about me, wife. I will heal. You worry about keeping me inside you.”
He stands to walk away and as he does, you mutter to no one, “I wasn’t worried” although you were. You tilt your hips up. Getting pregnant isn’t exactly your top priority right now, but the alternative is having his cum dribble down your thighs, and the black fluid is a little concerning to see smeared across your skin.
What child could be born from such a substance?
You angle your head to see Feyd-Rautha. He stands at the threshold of the bathroom, back turned to you. You admire his physique. For all of his misgivings — his psychotic tendencies, the murder, the way he plays his games with you — he’s irritatingly attractive. You close your eyes and let your head thump onto the bed.
You open them again when you hear the bedroom door swing open. “Are you leaving?” You ask, exasperated.
“Yes,” Feyd-Rautha says. He’s dressed, sadly. “I have other business to tend to.”
You scowl at the implication of being business.
“I’ll be back before the wedding. Keep up with your tolerance. Just know that I won’t fuck you every time you over dose,” he tells you. A million questions jump to mind — and quite a few curses — but he’s gone before you can say any of them.
Spent and still reeling from your recent fucking, you collapse back onto the bed and throw your arm over your eyes. What were you doing?
You were going to marry him.
Part 7
Taglist:
@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper
@beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller
#dune#feyd rautha#feyd x reader#feyd x you#fanfic writing#writers on tumblr#writing#fanfic#feyd smut#i am feral for him#FERAL
331 notes
·
View notes
Text
Looking for some helpful advice
My wife and I had hit a wall for the last year or so. A dry spell. No matter what one did the other didn't enjoy it. Then about 2 months ago the sissy switch in my head clicked back on. Isabella was born. Slowly exploring by myself I found flr books to read and share with my wife. As the weeks went on Isabella grew. The relationship between my wife and my sissy side became stronger.
I work away from home for 2 weeks at a time and will challenge myself with chastity. My wife never having interest. So when I went away locked again she started asking how it was going, wanting to get involved. I opened the door and now almost 6 weeks have gone by. 4 masterbation orgasms ( a rarity considering I'm a chronic masterbater) when I got home she wanted me dressed. There was no more male clothes allowed inside the house. She wanted her sissy wife Isabella.
We do makeup together she gets massages and gets taken to orgasms all by Isabella. When I first brought her to orgasm while locked and dressed she asked me how I was feeling. I was sexually frustrated and so turned on. I had leaked thru my maids outfit. When I told her she smiled so brightly as she told me to put a pad on and the my clit was staying locked. Dumbfounded by her term I had to ask why clit. She stated that while it's locked tightly and only the tip peaks out. So it is my little clit. I almost orgasmed just hearing her words. I felt flushed and so on love.
She teased me and excited me. We got a breastplate for me and she had me wear it almost the entire time I was home. Every outfit was complete with an extention ponytail my breastplate and makeup. ( she did it most times because I am terrible at makeup)
Over the last two weeks of work her grip has gotten tighter and I can feel her excitement. I am going home for an extended period of time but it's truly Isabella that will be home. She plans to milk me and keep me locked unless she needs me.
The only orgasm I was give last with my wife was with her vibrator rubbing against my cage.
We ordered a bunch of new clothes, a makeup table, new makeup and new toys. We also got a laser hair removal system. As I knew she had unwanted hair and sometimes I grew tired of shaving certain spots. When I asked what parts she wished for me to use it on. She said every part. Including my face.
I fully agree with her the further Isabella comes out the less likely she will ever leave.
I think my wife has always wanted Isabella as she had always been more masculine and had been in previous lesbian relationships. She has talked to me about transitioning and letting Isabella out permanently, talks of hormones. Although I'm scared I'm also excited and so want to do this with her.
Is there anyway that anyone can think of to prove to my wife that Isabella is wanted to become her wife Permanently.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
I need to rant for a hot minute. Also, I would like advice from all the tumblr aunts and uncles and anyone who will give it.
So back in ye olde month of April, my boyfriend’s father moved in with us. For the purpose of this rant we’re calling him FIL.
FIL had gotten a job in our town and wanted to move out to be closer to his son, and move to a state that doesn’t have a real winter.
So mid-April I get the futon couch all made up with sheets and pillows and a blanket and the good quilt. I am under the impression this is going to last 2-3 weeks until FIL finds an apartment. Boyfriend was thinking a month. That’s fine, I can deal.
We get to June and I’m asking about apartments FIL has toured. It’s been 6 weeks. FIL has found some he likes but oof, the prices. So much more expensive out here compared to previous state.
Boyfriend informs me that his dad can’t afford an apartment downpayment until FIL gets the move-out reimbursement from New Job. Which takes 3 months. FIL has been living on my couch for half of that, might as well wait another 6 weeks until he gets the money and can finally move out.
Early July: my mother is asking when FIL is leaving. Boyfriend promises end of July. We do a pinky promise. I am starting to Not Enjoy having FIL live with us. It’s summer. It’s hot as hell. The electric bill is stupid high.
End of July: shit has hit the fan. FIL’s new job loses a lawsuit and to save money they lay off everyone who hasn’t been there a year. Including FIL. He still gets severance for 3 months and move-out reimbursement. I want to scream and put myself in the washing machine b/c again. It’s summer. It’s hot out and I can’t even sit on my couch to watch TV b/c FIL has the couch for his bed and is always playing something on the PS5. He deserves to have his own space even if he’s intruding into mine and his son’s.
August: FIL begins looking for new jobs. Gold star. Still taking up my entire living room. His comic books (that he keeps buying) are stacked up underneath my coffee tables. He has a seemingly endless supply of Diet Coke bottles. FIL is still getting paychecks for severance, but they stop if he gets a new job before severance runs out. I go with him and boyfriend to tour an apartment for him. Very nice. In his budget. Boyfriend decides to tell me after that his dad has filed bankruptcy a couple years ago and his credit is shit so he will probably not get the apartment.
Dead reader, if you’re thinking “why move across the county if you can’t get an apartment, where are you going to live?” Congrats. I had the same thought. I don’t even know what to do anymore.
September: four months now of FIL living on my couch. He is job searching. I have a little breakdown as a treat b/c as I’ve kept telling Boyfriend, this has gone on long enough and I want the apartment to go back to being our apartment, not our-and-his-dad’s apartment. I’ve now been told he will leave by end of September. He is applying for jobs out of state
October: FIL is still on the couch, and gets a job in his home state. Excellent. Yay. We’re happy. I’m told starting date is Nov 4. Scratch that, he got the month wrong. December 4th. But he said he will be gone by early November. Severance ended. He spends his days watching comic book auctions and playing baseball games on the PS5. I honestly have no idea if he’s washed the sheets. I don’t care. I don’t even want the futon anymore. I’m sure there’s crumbs stuck in the coffee table b/c this man eats sitting on the floor while watching his son’s laptop propped up on the coffee table.
November: hi, it’s the 3rd of November, and I was originally told that FIL would be leaving in the first week or two. Last night I asked what day he was leaving. “Oh, I was thinking a day or two after thanksgiving”. Aka after the 4th Thursday of November (nov. 23). Another MONTH. And this is holiday season when I go all out baking and cooking for the holidays. I can’t do it anymore. I want to feel at home in my apartment. I don’t want a 55 year old roommate, eating chips, sitting on my floor, while he watches comic book auctions without headphones (he doesn’t own any. I’ve asked. Multiple times)
He doesn’t cook. He buys 3 cases of sparkling water and puts them all in the fridge, which I then had to remove b/c there was no room for the groceries. The first month I had to remind him to clean up his empty Diet Coke bottles. FIL routinely falls asleep watching something on the laptop and when I get up in the morning, the laptop is still on, the front light is on, and sometimes so is the TV.
I’ve had it. Boyfriend is worried me telling his dad to get the fuck out is going to hurt his dad’s feelings or give him a mental break. FIL is incredibly sensitive and once cried when I implied that my parents didn’t like him. Boyfriend thinks his dad is fragile and that he needs to take care of his dad, because his dad doesn’t have anyone else. His dad has 3 brothers and Boyfriend has a sister. FIL is not alone.
Boyfriend is focusing so much on not hurting his dad’s feelings and taking care of him that I am just. I’m not supported. My needs are eclipsed by FIL’s.
So my plan is to send them both out for a guy’s day tomorrow and pack up my valuables and important stuff, and move in with my parents (who live 3 minutes away) until FIL is gone or Boyfriend has developed the ability to get his shit together.
I just. I’m done. FIL is a very nice person but he needs to get out of the apartment.
So I’m doing what I’m calling the nuclear option b/c talking and being nice isn’t going anywhere. The valuables and sentimental things are coming with me, and because I’m a petty bitch, so is the coffee table, the rug, and all but one of the pillows on the bed. Boyfriend will be left 1 bathroom towel. I’ve half a mind to take all the silverware too b/c it was a birthday present from my mom.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writing Patterns
Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!
Thanks for the fun tag, @perverse-idyll!
1. It’s a grim little thing, the Sorting Hat thinks as she walks up to the dais.
[Hag Tales, HP, Minerva/Amelia, Minerva/Alastor, Minerva/Wilhelmina. The reader's introduction to Miss Minerva McGonagall, as seen through a variety of lenses, including the Sorting Hat's. Yikes!]
2. The body remembers.
[De Aegypto, Minerva/Rolanda. The frame for a short piece about Minerva's musings on Rolanda and their complicated relationship.]
3. The first time Florean Fortescue met Severus Snape, he was mid-charm, putting the finishing touches on his latest creation.
[The Ice Cream Man and the Potions Master, Florean/Severus (pre-slash). A little scene-setting for an episodic piece in which Severus alternately confounds and charms Florean Fortescue.]
4. "Imperio."
[Rest with Your Dream in My Dream, Minerva/Severus. A line stolen from canon, as were many of the lines from this piece in which I attempt to add a little backstory to some of the key scenes in the HP books. This one from the scene where Minerva (needlessly) Imperios Amycus Carrow.]
5. Mind the gap between the train and the platform.
[Mind the Gap, Minerva/Severus. A somewhat contrived frame for this short piece about the ramifications of the age-gap between lovers Minerva and Severus. Also, I had recently returned from London.]
6. What the hell am I doing here?
[Within a Forest Dark, Minerva/Severus. A question I think Severus must have asked himself several times per day. A little tunnel into the main character's mind.]
7. The children filed into the classroom, quieter than they’d ever be again, Albus knew. The first-years were always a little awed by their first day at Hogwarts.
[One to Keep an Eye On, Albus, Minerva. Some scene-setting for a short piece about how Albus and Minerva first met.]
8. Thorfinn McGonagall sat in his study answering some of the many letters of condolence that continued to pour in two months after his wife’s death, when a shriek from somewhere on a floor above pulled him out of his chair.
[From Jupiter's Head, OC, Minerva, Albus. A somewhat ham-fisted attempt to provide a bit of (canon-divergent) backstory for Minerva, introducing both her father and her magical prowess.]
9. Anyone who’d spent any time at all at Number 12 Grimmauld Place in the past weeks would not have been surprised to see an identical pair of ginger heads creeping down a creaky staircase at ten minutes past one o’clock on a July morning.
[The Perils of Eavesdropping. Fred, George, Alastor/Minerva. Distanced narrative-setting for a short, (hopefully) humorous piece.]
10. If anyone had asked the Reverend Robert Fingal McGonagall ten years ago what he’d be doing on the third Saturday of Advent in the year of our Lord 1990, he might have laid even odds on “thumbing the harp wi’ the angels.”
[Sufficient Unto the Day, Robert McGonagall, Sr, Minerva/Severus. An introduction to the main character, Minerva's minister father.]
As far as patterns go, I'd say I tend to open with short, simple phrases, often internal dialogue splashed right up front without any context. Since my stories tend to be character-driven pieces (fanfic, ya know?), I like to get into my characters' heads ASAP. It's a little odd, given that my overall narrative style leans (too) heavily on complex compound sentences. Or, it seems, I sometimes go in the opposite direction, opening with a line that establishes a more distanced narrative, sort of a birdseye POV, if you will.
Tagging @writcraft, @bettsfic, @cailynwrites, @billsfangearring
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
15 and 12 for the language asks! :)
15. What are you most proud of in your language learning journey this year?
I had to think hard about this one. When I glance back, I don't feel like I've done any progress in my language learning journey – I spent the first 6 months actively writing my thesis and I feel like I spent the rest of the year regenerating and coming out of a burn out. But. I'm really proud of two things:
1) working with Swedish resources in my thesis, including some very old Swedish. I had to play a detective, to try to guess how the word would be written/pronounced nowadays and work with different dictionaries to be able to translate some texts.
2) I read THREE books in German this year. Some people who follow this blog for a long time might know I've always struggled with reading in German, calling it cursed. My brain always switched off when I was supposed to read a text in German. But yeah, I forced myself to read and it was really fun and I'm proud of that.
12. What are your language learning goals for next year?
To be honest, I haven't thought about this yet. I usually don't like goals, I seem to be unable to set goals for myself (fear of failure, probably). But my goal is to read 5 Swedish books next year. And hopefully some German and Spanish too – it's been a long time since I've read something in Spanish. I also plan on going to Sweden next summer, so I hope to just... keep immersing myself in the language, improving. I should probably start speaking to myself and record it again, I did that last year and liked it lot, but didn't have a chance to do it this year.
Thank you for the questions, they both were pretty difficult for me to answer but at least it got me to do some thinking!
End of year language learning ask game.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
15 questions/15 people
thank you @angry-velociraptor for tagging me! im usually horrible at filling these (i tell myself aw thats sweet, ill do it later and then ill NEVER get back to it) but today im determined to answer some questions >:3c
1. are you named after anyone?
nope, my mom had to change plans for my name last minute so that my birthday and name day didn't fall on the same day. but even the planned name still wasn't an homage to anyone
2. when was the last time you cried?
about two days ago watching the end of Search for Bob (CR1 oneshot) when Liev'tel asks the Raven Queen whether Vex and Keyleth will be happy. that got me good, dammit Liam and Matthew
but overall i am so easily moved to tears its ridiculous
3. do you have kids?
nu-uh
4. do you use sarcasm a lot?
lately i've noticed that it's not always obvious to some of my friends when im joking/sarcastic without malice, so im trying not to unless im sure there cannot be a misunderstanding
5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?
their neutral facial expression (or how the look at me) and height i think?
6. what’s your eye color?
grey-blue, got that from dad's side
7. scary movie or happy endings?
im not much into movies but ive definitely watched more horrors than romantic comedies, so ill go with scary (ive got Mouth of Madness on my list rn)
8. any special talents?
not exactly a talent but id say im weirdly lucky when it counts
9. where were you born?
in czech republic, normal hospital baby
10. what are your hobbies?
drawing is my life long hobby, something i keep coming back to. lately ive become the filthiest of casuals of ttrpgs and im having a blast. also i have been housebound for past three months (icky leg injury) and in that time i got to come back to reading which has also always been my beloved activity, as well as pick up new things like painting minis (ive got little ranger/fighter/wizard mice miniatures and the are tiny and adorable af) and in past few days i got into neocities so im learning html and css to make my own little website and im having so much fun. id like to formally apologize to all my for the time abandoned hobbies, including but not limited to writing, embroidery, linocut and sewing, i swear ill get back to yall some time but now is just not that time.
11. do you have any pets?
currently not :c
12. what sports do you play/have you played?
ive played volleyball for ten years, i stopped playing when i went to college. after that ive done tai-chi for a year, then nothing for a loong time, then i finally decided to hit the gym and get some shoulders, which went great before i felt fit enough to try volleyball again and that is where my 3 month long icky leg injury comes from lmao. but when im healed id love to get fit again (not sure about the volleyball, im super scared but asasdgf it made me so happy to play again), it was brief but awesome, it really is so good for my body and brain to exercise regularly
13. how tall are you?
169 cm, which i think is about 5'6"
14. favorite subject in school?
geography and literature. i wish i remembered more from both high school and uni, man, it was cool to know things about these
15. dream job?
my dream job used to be book editor or librarian. now... ive worked as a librarian for two years now, on two different posts, and i really like the job, tho i eventually wish to do something that is paid a bit better and/or more creative. id like some fun job sometime in my life. but who wouldnt :D
tagging: @lawful-goof @mu-mumie @zraloci-cpr @picachews @zelvuska (feel no obligation you know how it goes :3)
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Some Introductions and Intentions
Life has a strange way sometimes to make you feel like a path is your calling and then years later upending everything you associated with your identity and forging it anew.
Let me explain – for the majority of my life I’ve been an artist by calling. Specifically, I was an illustrator. I painted digitally, and sometimes traditionally, and focused on people. Expressive pieces that were rich with color and emotions, I liked to tell a story. For a very long time I was moving towards the goal of being a professional, of making it my career. Then when I was a breath away from doing so, I crumpled under the pressure and just… didn’t.
I’m not sure if it was the pressure of working under a timeline, or the management part, or maybe the self promotion; but I couldn’t continue. I felt like a fraud calling myself an artist, and eventually that ended too.
Unfortunately, for myself, I had been calling myself an artist my whole life. I had a *Plan* and doing illustration full time was very much my goal. I didn’t know what to do with myself without my painting being there, I didn’t know who I was. Between painting, which was sometimes an on-and-off exercise, I had been exploring other hobbies. I was quite known for it, looking at a new hobby to explore and learn and then obsess over for three months and then dropping it. Gardens flourished and then wilted, my kitchen has gadgets I’ll probably never touch again, my iPad is mostly relegated to reading these days, or a very fancy cat bed. I’ve gone through video games and books, cooking and instruments, painting, sculpting, pottery, makeup, hair, sciences, teas… I’ve covered a lot of ground. But I always thought that Illustration was what, or who, I was.
Realizing that everything I had built myself around was something I couldn’t do was life altering.
A two year gap of madness happened, and I had to reevaluate – everything.
What came out of the other side of my gap year was a couple of different things.
An understanding of the difference between something that is a hobby and something that is a passion.
A dissolution of self identity tied to other’s, or even my own expectations.
Peace
I found peace with myself, and also with my life. I realized that I was pursuing art because it was something I was good at, but not something I was passionate about.
What I am passionate about is what this blog will be focusing on.
Fiber
When I was 15 I was asked to learn how to crochet so that the fiber category had a submission for the local art fair. My art teacher taught me the basics of crochet and then let me figure the rest out. A month after I was crocheting hats for friends, I picked up knitting, learning through books in my library and youtube videos online.
Knitting became my on-and-off again hobby until I discovered garments, and then it was game on.
Garments opened up a whole new world of interest that I was fascinated with. I loved the complexity of fiber drape and construction in knitting. I was “free knitting” my own sweaters within the first 6 months. I became part of a local knit group and quickly developed a reputation for going “off pattern”. I devoured books and articles on fiber types and sheep breeds. I played with ease and shaping and made mistakes and loved it all.
In 2022 I went to SAFF and impulse purchased an E-Spinner and the doors fully opened into the fiber world, including the history of the humble spindle.
This passion has developed many branches now, spreading into Historical Fashion and Clothing Making, Weaving, Sewing, Embroidery, Leatherwork… The list could go on.
At the heart of it all is my passion for fiber, and a healthy dose of sustainability.
My intentions with this blog is to document those branches of interest. Where they lead and what I learn, and to ask questions along the way.
And maybe, I can share some of this passion with you.
1 note
·
View note
Text
MARCH 6, 2023. 9:37 AM.
a lot has been going on lately and that must be why i haven’t had the time to write. but anyway, here’s a quick life update of everything that’s happened during the last two months:
january:
• had my prom + sang in front of every one. to say that it was nerve wracking would be an understatement, but i enjoyed it a lot and people cheered at the end !!
• had dinner and went to karaoke with my friends on the day after. it was sm fun and i was able to interact more with M.
• went to the beach with my family. it felt like such a good way to end the first month of the year.
february:
• finally finished taking all of my university entrance tests. (now time to anxiously wait for the results to be released next month)
• M asked me out and i went on my first ever date (everyone at school unsurprisingly knew about it the next day)
• for valentine’s day, M bought me red velvet crinkles and a physical copy of my favorite books which had a letter he wrote inserted in the front page (i cried after reading it on the way home)
• went out with my friends, including M, over the weekend for valentine’s day. i gave him a necklace and a letter as well.
• on the same day, i went over to my cousin’s surprise birthday party and i may or may not have gotten massively drunk for the first time and drunk texted M. (0/10 experience, i’m never drinking again) thankfully, he reacted just fine to it.
• had a three day sports fest at school + handled a business fair. it was the most stressful thing ever but i had fun anyway. i bought matching bracelets for M and i from one of the business fair booths and i’ve been wearing it every day since then.
• on many weekends, i either played volleyball with D or watched a wide variety of movies with M.
and that was it! as cheesy as it sounds, i know february would be so full of love but i never thought i’d experience what that meant until now. but other than that, i have four or less months until graduation and my fear of growing up (or just change in general) has been catching on to me. most of my friends have agreed as well that the main goal before that time comes is to maximize all of our time together.
just two days ago, i went to see them again. we ate lunch together, went to the arcade, chaotically played uno in starbucks, and had dinner before we left. i rode with Z, D, and of course, M going home. Z drove the car and D sat in the passenger seat while M and i sat in the backseat. he held me close and i held his hand and for the entire time that we had been listening to whatever song D had put on, lover by taylor swift played on loop in my head.
it felt so strange yet so good to be that close with someone and it occurred to me that everything about us was “so strange yet so good” because none of it was anything i’d ever thought i’d experience especially while i’m still in high school. but regardless, i’m grateful that i’m where i am now because i feel so much happier.
as always, n.
#i’ve been rereading so many of my old entries and dear lord have i changed so much in the span of a couple months.#diary#heartshvped
0 notes
Text
P2: Names and Writing
Jackson? Here. Jamie? Here. Jessica? uh, Jess uh Jocelyn? um, I'm sorry is it, Jess.. e .. lyn? My cheeks fill with heat and I can tell they're getting redder by the millisecond. I raise my hand, my throat feels clogged, and I clear it. "It's Jess. You can call me Jess, It's easier." I slouch down trying to melt with the chair, unnoticeable by those who surround me. What a stupid name I think to myself, I wish it was easier. Embarrassment lingers in my head, and it will repeat at least three more times with a different teacher with the same butchered pronunciation this semester, and again for the rest of my life. However, That’s now, Let’s go back a few years.
On an archipelago, 180 degrees from where I was born, was my mother in 1997, 6 years before I was born. She was always smart and she always thought outside of the box. On her normal nine-to-five Monday through Friday work day, she headed to her office. Respected, well-known, and hard-working. She didn’t need another job, but she thought about her future. She wanted a place of her own, a house for herself, her soon-to-be husband, a few kids, and many dogs. She knew there would be an easier way to obtain a good house, at least from the inside. She called a familiar friend to get her foot in the door, and on her lunch breaks, she would read real estate books here and there. And just like that, she was ready to sell her first house. Give and take a few real estate legalities, there were no strings attached. Just a prominent woman and free weekends, she was ready for her first open house. Weeks went by, no buyers, but she didn’t give up. She was persistent. One day a lady came in with her young daughter, with a name my mom had never heard before. Jesselyn. “It's french,” said the lady. “It means hard-working and successful woman” My mom fell in love with the name. It was unique, it captured what my mother wanted her future to be, similar to her, hard-working. She had a good feeling, maybe it was the name, maybe it was her commitment to her dream, but she sold her first house, to an unsuspecting woman, and her daughter, Jesselyn (JESS Lean) . Two houses later, a broken-off engagement and a one-way ticket to America, my mother arrived in New York in 2001. Fast forward a year later the feeling she had when she sold her first house lingered back to when she met my father. 14 months later, adamant about choosing the name of her firstborn daughter, I was born.
In a predominately white suburb of New York City, just 45 minutes north was an elementary school packed with eager 4 and 5-year-olds embarking on the start of their educational lives. A chorus of “Hi’s”, “Hello’s” and “I like your spiderman backpack” echoed through a colorful classroom. “What’s your name?” asked an eager 5-year-old boy named Tommy, knuckles deep in his nose. “I think her name is Jesselyn,” said our kindergarten teacher in an elongated and heavy vowel-toned voice. “Are you ok with Jess?” Bright-eyed, eager 4-year-old me went along with it. I didn’t want any trouble, I was four! Sheepishly, I believed I had to agree. For the rest of my primary and secondary school years, I went by the nickname “Jess”. Hiding the latter of my name, hiding also the uniqueness that went along with it. For 13 Years I lived through the facade of “Jess”. A normal, all-American name, for a normal, all-American girl. People I’ve never met insist they know the true way of pronouncing my name, even including my dad, who pronounces it as “Jess uh lin”. Butchering the accent with their American tongue, convincing me to even doubt my mother, who gave me the name. I have never met anyone with the same name as me. Never, until I walked into my french class on a Friday morning at 9:05 am. I took my seat and the professor walked in and jumped right into attendance. “Jesselyn?” “Here,” I said in unison with the girl sitting directly to my right. We both laugh and look at each other. “Oh my god,” we speak at the same time again. The professor continues on as we reside in our own small talk. “Have you ever met anyone with the same name?” “No.” wow. It was too good to be true. I asked her “How do you spell your name?” She responds. Perfectly announcing each letter until she skips the second E and goes straight to the L. “J E S S L Y N” aha! Not quite the same, unique on its own as well. We bond over shared experiences of mispronunciation and awkward roll call happenings. I haven’t spoken to her since the first day of class. Maybe the interrelation was too weird. Maybe we wanted to be our own as we have our entire life. A friendly wave and hello here and there, but never in-depth as our first encounter.
The experience I have with the name goes deeper than I realized. It was not just an uneasiness with myself. It turned out to be some weird internalized racism I felt towards my mother, and who I was. Angry at why she had chosed such an obscure, nonconforming name. I did not blend in. It made me stuck out. No one besides my mother and her family and friends could pronounce it correctly. Oblivious to my own inner racist tendencies, going along with my father and my American friends, mimicking my mothers accent when she yells my name. I am older and I do regret it. I have a deeper understanding. My name might be weird, but I was born here, I speak a universal language, I fit in with or without using my full name. My mother, who worked endlessly and started a new life in a new country is who experiences this endless racism. Born as Indahwati (In - duh - wat - tee) in her country, she was also given the name Aylie ( I - Lee) , as her Chinese name. Before ever stepping foot on American soil she went by Indah (In - duh), Indahwati and Aylie. Beautiful names that I adore. While starting her new life she was forced to adapt and start a new american name. Ellie (El - lee). No one would ever dare to even pronounce Indahwati, and Aylie was too confusing. She took her name Aylie, and changed it to Ellie. Hearing my father refer to my mother as Ellie has made me sad recently. The lack of respect or courtesy to attempt to say her name, choosing the easy way out. Researching the origins of my name has led me to a deep dive that not only exposed the importance of my name but also the importance of self worth, character and psychological impact it has had on me and my mother as well.
I don’t know why I’ve always been ashamed of my name. It eases over as time goes on and I learn more about myself and being able to be comfortable in my own skin and what I would respond to when the call of my name is being said out loud. I can not help but wonder if maybe under different circumstances regarding where I was born and where I grew up If I wouldn't be taught to be disappointed and to hide my name.
0 notes
Text
Why did I start 75HARD? I can’t remember the first time I saw it, I’m thinking it must have been two or three years ago. I’ve seen many fitness challenges and none of them ever felt intriguing to me in the same way that 75HARD does.
I always had a reason that I couldn’t start. I didn’t have time to workout. I wanted to be able to drink for the holidays. I wanted to drink with my friends for the summer. I wanted to drink for my birthday. I go to my parents house every Sunday for dinner, and we bond over my step fathers cooking, which is amazing. I didn’t want to jeopardize that family bonding by going on a diet, and it didn’t feel right to ask them to cook differently for me.
Even so, it would pop up somewhere on social media and I’d be reminded of it a couple times a year. Each time I’d look into it, sometimes check out the creators website, I’d tell myself I’d start first thing tomorrow. But tomorrow came, and I’d forgotten or used one of the reasons above as to why I didn’t want to do it, why it wasn’t the right time, why I couldn’t do it.
And the challenge would fall to the back of my mind again. Until last month, I saw a video of a girl who posted what she looked like when she started and when she ended the challenge. She captioned it “75HARD is the best thing that ever happened to me.” Her body had definitely changed, but it was her face that I was struck by. She had a smirk and a look of pure confidence in her eyes. I think this is why it’s the only fitness ‘trend’ that has ever kept my attention. It felt bigger than just your body. Everyone who completed it would talk about how it changed their life. Because at the end of the day, the creator says it isn’t a challenge about fitness - it’s about mental toughness. He says it’s simple, but it’s hard.
Anyways, it was still circling around in my head. I bought the creators book, and I started really thinking about it. My therapist gave me the great suggestion to plan a start day so that I could prepare, rather than impulsively deciding to start the next morning. I hadn’t fully decided if I wanted to do the challenge.
The reasons I already stated of course still applied, but there was also one more thing. I had started to feel the impact of my dad being dead, as I do every time the weather gets colder. He died in November, we had his funeral on Thanksgiving. I also deal with fairly severe seasonal depression. This time of year is particularly hard for me and the idea of not being able to use alcohol to cope with the sadness was scary.
But here’s the thing. I realized that maybe drinking is easier, but it’ll be seven years in three weeks and I still haven’t fully processed my fathers death. My dad was the chillest person I’ve ever met. He said he wanted to have a party instead of a funeral. I know for a fact that he would be devastated to know that seven years later I’m still grieving as if it was just yesterday. It wouldn’t feel comforting to him at all to know that I’ve spent 6 years drinking, crying, and isolating myself every winter and thanksgiving.
I thought maybe things could be different this year. Two 45-minute stretches of time are actually not that hard to fit in once you choose to prioritize yourself. Walking counts, and that’s what I usually do. I walk 4-5 miles a day and I feel myself reconnect with nature. Most of the time I put my phone away and just use the time to think and appreciate the beauty of the trees and crunchy leaves on the ground. A gallon of water means some planning, but it’s definitely do-able. Reading a book and taking a progress picture are easy and take basically no time out of my day. And lastly, the Mediterranean diet included things I really enjoy - which includes fruit, nuts, and so many other things that I didn’t want to cut out of my diet. It’s actually been incredibly simple to adjust - the biggest thing is that I don’t eat processed food, junk food, fried food, and I’ve limited myself to only eat red meat 3-4 times a month. Nothing is truly off limits within the diet, but moderation is definitely key. It means I can eat most of what my parents cook because even if they have red meat every time, I can still eat it. They already use brown rice, whole wheat products, and lots of olive oil. My dad step is Italian so it actually matched up quite well.
I started the book before I started the challenge, and once my start day came, I was so excited about changing my life that there wasn’t any hesitation. I realized I could keep making excuses… not just for the challenge, but everything in my life, or I could get my shit done. It’s day 23 and I can already say it’s changed my entire life.
Oh, and I found out that I had Covid a day before my planned start day. I felt sick, and would’ve have every reason to say “welp this isn’t even my fault, this is an entirely reasonable excuse to cancel my plans.” But the things I read in the book were still in my head, I planned specifically so it would end right before Christmas, and even though I felt like shit, I’ve definitely felt worse. So I started a day later, but I still started. It’s just as simple to find an excuse as it is to find a reason to keep going… so you just need to decide what you can live with.
0 notes
Note
Do you have any book recommendations?
sure :)
House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende - a favorite of mine, I re-read probably once every 3 years since HS at this point. Isabel Allende is the niece of Salvador Allende, the democratically elected socialist leader of Chile that was removed from office by a US backed coup. A piece of Chilean/American history not oft taught to American students. Isabel wrote this novel about an aristocratic family leading up to the coup. It does detail sexual assault and rape, but the story is focused on multiple generations of women.
The Second Shift by Arlie Russell Hochschild - A book I had to read in college for a sociology class that was called "Psychology and Marriage" or something to that nature. That class and this book specifically were instrumental in leading me towards radical feminism (despite neither being about it). Sociology books on gender are a great way to put your feminist framework to work, and should not be overlooked as important texts to feminism. This book is an engaging read about the labor of housework, written in chapters detailing the lives of specific families.
Call the Midwife by Jennifer Worth - I just finished this so it's on my mind, very quick read and engaging read. The tv show is based on this memoir, and on her following two memoirs as well which I have yet to read. There is a spiritual/religious bent to it that might be off putting, and Jenny does write at times in some strikingly sexist and tone-deft language that is shocking to find considering the subject matter, but it's no more so than what you would find from an average woman I suppose. What's more important is that it's her account of her times as a midwife in Poplar in the 50s, aiding extremely poor women through their numerous pregnancies in her own words. Very eye opening to the reality of post-war poverty in the UK, as well as the reality of obstetrics pre so many of our now common modern-day medical advances.
Why does he do that? by Lundy Bancroft - Some books are worth the over-recommendation. This book has been instrumental for me in navigating my life with the relationships of men I have, not just purely sexual and romantic, but in friendship, work, and community. Recognizing patterns of male dominance and entitlement is an essential tool to survive. It also has helped me navigate my relationship with my mother, who can at times be selfish and manipulative. There are posts floating about detailing accusations made against Bancroft that I would not be able to find without some serious digging, but yes Bancroft is a man (some women don't know this). He has an extensive career working with abusive men and their victims, so he has incredible insight and yet also has been accused himself entitled to women. This has, in my opinion, brought a deeper understanding of his words in that he might think he is detailing the minds of the abusive man, I see him as detailing the minds of men who will abuse their power over women. In any case, I have recently been re-reading it at leisure.
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster - This book has been high in my mind the past few months as the author passed away in March. What a lovely children's book, delightful exploration of the English language in fun and magical ways. I had a teacher read this book out loud to us at the end of each day in either 2nd or 3rd grade and it's been a favorite ever since. It's a little long for a children's book, and the adventures are repetitive to some degree, so it might be hard for an adult to want to read through the whole thing as their go to book, but flipping through it now and again is delightful. If you have an 7-10 year old kid in your life, it's a fun thing to share with them.
Wise Child by Monica Furlong - Maybe there's something to analyze about me that I'm recommending two children's books...but I'll let that be my problem. I read this a few years ago as my train-commute book. For some reason, I've been thinking about it a lot lately and want to pick it up again. It's about a witch and her child apprentice in a Scottish village. That's it. But the imagery was very cool and I love magic and witches so it was my jam. I picked it up for free in a neighborhood "little free library" so maybe my heart just goes to it for being given away despite it being a cute book about a female relationship.
The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett - This book comes recommended to me by my boyfriend's mom, who I adore and who is an amazing, hilarious, thoughtful woman, and is the book I'm about to start since I literally just finished reading Call the Midwife last night. It's a long, meaty historical novel about building a cathedral. So if you're interested in reading a book along with me in spirit, especially ones recommended by an amazing older woman, especially if you like giant novels that are hard to carry around dense with details about architecture and the lives of peasant and noble people living in Kingsbridge England in 1123-1174, then girlfriend hop on with me and let's make this monumental smash hit suddenly start trending with 20-30 something feminist women on tumblr this summer for no discernible reason.
Around the Corner by Jeremy J. Majewski - I haven't read this, I'm only recommending it because someone I know wrote it and I want to support the people in my life :) It's a fantasy novel and it might not even be good but it's self published and I bought a copy because I think writing a book and self publishing is a feat worth celebrating. AND! It might be very very good, I just haven't gotten to it yet. :) So if you want to support independent authors that I know, please buy this book for under $10.
#that's it for now :)#ask again in 6 months the first two books will always be included in my recs#like I need people to read those first two books it's my mission in life to get them in front of people.
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Smutober/Kinktober- first time (Pansy Parkinson x reader)
Warnings: oral, fingering
You and Pansy have been dating coming up to 6 months, things have been going so well, she’s your first girlfriend but you’re not her first. It’s a known thing that when Pansy was single she liked to have fun, that usually included having casual sex with girls.
You’d heard so many stories from others even before you were dating. “She sleeps with straight girls and turns them gay” “She had a threesome with two other girls!” “Daphne left her boyfriend to have sex with Pansy.”
Your 6 months of dating is coming up, you weren’t doing anything too special but just hanging out together in her dorm together. You’d read lots of books about female anatomy and pleasure. You even talked to some girls you knew were experienced to ensure you are ready for that night.
“Happy 6 months darling” she says greeting you at the door, she presses her lips against yours. “Happy 6 months Pans” you walk in and she wraps her arms around you. “You look so pretty, are you wearing lip gloss?” She asks smiling still holding you close to her. “Yeah just a little” “I love it” she kisses you again.
The two of you cuddle on her bed talking together when you make the first moving sucking on her neck, it progresses to kissing her lips, she slips her tongue in your mouth. You try to enjoy making out like you usually do but you’re so nervous.
Pansy was definitely enjoying it, she’d gotten you both undressed to your underwear quite quickly. Her hand travels up your bare stomach and she grabs you breasts, you usually stop it here but let her continue. As she massages them she reaches behind your back and you feel as she unclips your bra. Your heart pounds in your chest as she pulls the straps down still kissing you.
She pulls off your bra leaving you braless for the first time in front of her, she hasn’t broken the kiss to admire you yet but the anxiety filled you and you stopped it. “I’m sorry I can’t” she sits up getting off you and sitting on the end of the bed as you search for your top.
“Would it help if I took mine off?” she asks quickly “No” you put your top back on “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “It’s fine I just need a second and we can keep going.”
You tried to collect yourself but nerves took the best of you. “Sorry I’m nervous just a second” “Let’s not do this, let’s just cuddle tonight” “No, we have to” “No we don’t have to, I don’t want to do anything until you’re comfortable.”
“Please stay” you say softly “I will, let’s cuddle” she opens her arms for you to embrace in. “No stay with me, don’t break up with me” “Why would I break up with you?” She gives you a puzzled look “Because I haven’t done it with you yet” “I don’t care. What makes you think I’d break up with you over that?” “Well I’ve heard things and I know I shouldn’t listen to that but I can’t help but listen to it because I’m not anything like that.”
“I don’t get into relationships with the people I sleep with because that’s all they will expect, I like that you want to wait” “It’s just- it’s not just going to be my first time with a girl. It’s my first time ever. That’s why I’m scared, I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ve never been naked in front of anyone.”
“When you’re ready I’ll teach you, I was always expecting to take things slow.” “I’ve been ready but I didn’t want to look like an idiot when you know so much” “You’re not going to, I promise I’ll teach you and we can go as slow as you need.”
“Can we try again?” I ask and she nods “What do you feel comfortable doing?” “I can take off my top” “Okay, take your time.” Your hands grab the bottom of your shirt slowly lifting it up over your head and taking it off revealing your breasts.
“I’ll take mine off so we are even” she smiles and unclips her bra letting it fall off her body. “Do you want me to touch you?” She asks “Yes” “Okay.” She gets closer to you kissing your neck down your body to your breasts.
She looks up for your approval and you nod, she wraps her lips around your nipple sucking and nibbling on it. “That feels really good” you tell her as she continues on the other one.
“Can I try?” You ask “Of course” she sits up, you wrap your lips around her nipple just like she did to you and suck adding pressure. “Good girl, you got it” her hand strokes your hair as you stimulate her.
“I’m going to take off my underwear” she says and you nod watching her hands move down her stomach to the waistband of her underwear. She pulls it down and kicks them off with her ankles spreading her legs. You follow after her taking off your underwear, it felt nice being naked in front of her.
“Do you want me to eat you out?” “Yes please” “Lay here” she pats the pillow, you lay down “Spread your legs as much as you can” you spread your legs “Perfect.”
She gives you warning before licking up and down your pussy. The pleasure hits you instantly as she licks your clit. She even used her fingers inside you. It felt amazing, you bite your lip holding in your moans, she looks up at you. “Baby, you can moan, I want to hear you moan” “Oh um okay.”
You certainly let out your moans, each wave of pleasure you felt you let out a moan, it just came out and you went with it. “Oh shit, that feels really good” you feel a knot in your stomach, you knew that meant you were close. The anticipation was unbearable until you finished the pleasure washed over you intensely.
“Good job, you did so well” she encourages you “Fuck that feels amazing, I don’t know that I’ll be that good.” “It’s simple when you know what you’re doing, I’ll talk you through it.” Pansy spreads her legs “Start with a finger, rub up and down” you run your finger up and down her pussy. “Good, now finger me, have you done it to yourself before?” “Yes” “It’s just like that but on someone else.” You use your fingers inside her. “Now rub my clit” you rub up and down and around.
“All you have to do is use your mouth lick and suck and do everything you think would feel nice” “Okay, I think I got this.” You bring your lips to her clit sucking on it and licking it, her moans were heavenly. Every moan you earned you made sure to do more of and figured out what she likes.
“Okay I’m close so keep going” she warns. Your fingers curl inside her and you change between sucking and licking her clit. “Good girl, I’m so close” she moans and arches her back “Fuck” she moans and you feel her finish around to her fingers. “That felt so good” she praises you.
“I’ll teach you some more later but you are so good at eating me out” she presses her lips to yours. “Was it okay for you?” She asks “It was really good, thank you” “Anytime you want darling.”
#harry potter#hp imagine#smut#wlw#wlw smut#pansy parkinson x fem!reader#pansy parkinson fluff#pansy parkinson x you#pansy parkinson x female reader#pansy parkinson smut#pansy parkinson imagine#pansy parkinson x reader#pansy parkinson fanfiction#kinktober#smutober#day 26
469 notes
·
View notes
Text
Moving On
Theseus Scamander x OC
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from fantastic beasts or Harry Potter.
WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Smut, mentions of nudity
Hope you enjoy! This is my first Theseus fic!
It was a rather rainy day in London. The city seemed to glower with gloom due to the current circumstances, what with Grindlewalds efforts to start a war and all. Not that I’m supposed to know any of this to be quite frank. I just happened to be very good friends with one Qweenie Goldstein, who always kept my muggle ears informed. After she disappeared with Grindlewald from Paris Tina reached out in hopes that maybe if I could get to her I could talk some sense into her. The only thing was that no one really even knew where she was, so now here we are. I, Katia Johnson, have now been in London with Tina and Newt for about 6 months. Not that I have much to complain about though as I’ve taken on some work with Newts curious creatures and made some new friends. Including newts brother Theseus.
As I sit in front of a rather large window in the living area of Theseus’ flat reading in rather immodest attire I hear the front door slam and quick footsteps approach the room. It can’t be Theseus, he’s never here and when he is it’s much later. Stupid me for not being properly dressed. Being that I rent a small room from Theseus, he’s not surprised to see me sitting on the sofa with a copy of Newts book opened in my small hands. He is however slightly shocked to see me sat in basically a negligee. I had decided that morning today would be a lazy day and so I didn’t get dressed thinking I’d be spending my day off alone.
“I’m so sorry Theseus, I hadn’t realized you’d be home early! I’ll go put on something more appropriate!” I said quietly as I scurried off to my room. My cheeks must’ve been a blazing red as they’re hot to the touch. I quickly changed and went back to the living area sofa where Theseus now sat on the middle cushion with his head resting back as he stared at the ceiling.
“Sorry about that,” I whispered after clearing my throat.
“Hmm?” Was his reply as he turned his head to look at me.
“I should’ve been dressed more appropriately. I knew you’d be home eventually. It was stupid of me. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I rattled off. He only scrunched his brows together before looking back to the ceiling.
The rest of the day was spent in deafening silence between the two of us until he disappeared into his room as I began to work on dinner. Surprisingly Theseus liked letting you cook all the meals instead of using magic, “it’s the time and effort and passion that makes it so much better,” He always says. He stayed rather quiet until I knocked on his door to tell him it was ready. When he opened the door however, he had several boxes and bags that he took outside and loaded into a waiting vehicle. Once finished he took his place at the dinner table.
“Is everything ok?” I asked.
He looked up and gave a barely there smile and said, “of course, pet.”
He sat quietly and ate until he finished and excused himself back to his room. I went to bed that night with many thoughts running through my mind. Especially thoughts of him using such a name for you. You had to admit how much you liked how he said it to you with his accent and rich, velvety voice. It brought a certain warmth to you as you drifted off into intense, steamy dreams of a man who isn’t quite ready for another woman in his life yet. Or so you thought. Unbeknownst to you, Theseus has been thinking about you a lot since this afternoons occurrence. Not a single day in the last several long months has gone by without Leta on his mind. She seemed to be everywhere he went like she was haunting him. She’d look at him with such a sad smile and reach for him but never connected like she was trying to comfort him. Today, however, he hadn’t seen her all morning or afternoon until travers sent him home saying he was do for some rest.
Theseus was shocked to walk through the door and see you sat there on the sofa looking rather caught off guard, and just behind you was Leta. She smiled down at you and then up at him and nodded softly as if to suggest she’s chosen you for him. And just as fast she disappeared. Kate had scrambled away to change and So he began sorting and packing letas things leaving only things he’d like to remember her by and called Tina to help him find something to do with the rest. It felt as though a weight had been lifted, as if Leta gave him his freedom to love again and Theseus hadn’t seen Leta after that. At Dinner when you asked him if everything was ok, he hoped he might put himself out there a bit. He didn’t expect much of a reaction from you but your cheeks painted themselves bright red and he noticed you clench your thighs together slightly. Just that alone had thoughts of you running rampant in his head as he dozed into a deep slumber.
——-
I awoke the next morning much earlier than normal, the sky was still dark but somehow throughout the night my chemise managed to slide between my folds. This delicious friction and lingering dreams of Theseus’ gentle touch make it easy to decide to discard my chemise completely and let my fingers dance across my plump porcelain skin until they meet my throbbing core. Though I’ve never been with a man I have learned how to please myself shamelessly when I truly feel that lust. I let my fingers dance in a tight circle around my nub, trying to climb the steep mountain to my climax. My breaths start coming in quick, wanton pants as I climb closer and closer; letting out soft, sweet whimpers. Just as I began to feel the heat in my core snap my door bursts open to reveal a groggy Theseus, wand at the ready with an alarmed expression on his beautiful freckled face and shouted, “what’s wrong?! You alright?”
Theseus’ eyes widened in realization as he took in my naked form. I let out a squeak of embarrassment as my legs snapped shut and my hands flying to grab my blanket. My face must’ve turned red as a tomato because my cheeks grew hot. I didn’t dare look him in the eyes, afraid he might be disgusted by what he’s just seen.
“I’m so sorry Kat, I heard you…I thought someone might’ve broken in and….I’ll give you some privacy!” He stuttered and backed out, closing my door behind him.
I quickly got up, pulled on my lacy white chemise and silk robe and went after him. I found him sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, his cheeks red with embarrassment or maybe lust.
“Theseus,” I whispered nervously, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m so stupid I should’ve locked the door or for Pete’s sake, I shouldn’t have been doing it at all! I’m so ashamed.” I busied myself with making a pot of tea as the silence after my outburst grew uncomfortable. I hadn’t noticed him stand and make his way to where I was stood fiddling with the kettle. I only noticed when his hand met my arm and he turned me to face him. He gently slipped his other hand behind my neck, leaned down and placed his plump lips upon mine softly. He pulled back a bit and looked into my surprised eyes and then pressed his lips back to mine again with a smile. The first kiss was sweet and gentle but the second kiss was deeper, harder, more sensual and I welcomed it with open arms. Our lips seemed to melt into each other and neither of us wanted to stop but air was necessary to live. We parted again and I placed my fingers to my lips as I longed for that feeling again. The kettle began to whistle and Theseus took over making tea quietly as I took notice of the sky lit by the morning light. I’m needed at Newts today which meant I needed to be getting ready for work.
After changing and doing up my hair and slipping into my ballet flats I glance once more into the mirror regretting not getting my laundry done sooner. My only clean dress left was of course, white, which meant I’d likely end up throwing the poor thing away after the day is over. Hoping to understand the situation this morning better I made my way back to the kitchen only to be disappointed to see Theseus is no where in sight. By the time Newt arrived to take me to work I’ve come up with millions of scenarios of what he might be feeling or thinking right now.
In order to have the best day possible I’ve willed myself no to think about what had happened between us this morning. The day went by rather quickly without thinking about it at all until just before it was time to go home. Theseus had stopped in to see newt about Grindlewald. Of course Newt being Newt, he wanted Theseus to walk around with him to discuss the details as he was working with his creatures. Just as they start to walk by the Kelpie decides to splash around and soak me from head to toe. Theseus and Newt stop and laugh at me as I stand there dripping. Newt keeps his eyes down to the ground but Theseus doesn’t look away and I look down to see my Bralette and panties clearly through my white dress that clings to me.
“Alright then pet, let’s get you home so you can get cleaned up, yeah?” Theseus asks with a chuckle, reaching a hand towards me while his other hand rests in his pocket.
“Yes, that would wonderful thank you!” I say quietly, shivering slightly with the chill of the air around us. Taking my hand in his we disapperate, arriving back in the flat we share, my hand still enveloped in his. I look up to find him gazing down at me wantonly, donning a half smirk he swallows. His Adam’s apple bobbing along with him. He pulls me in closer and leans in until our noses are touching. I feel his strong freckled hands meet the small of my back and pulling me impossibly closer as he plants a searing kiss on my plush lips. I kiss back fervently as my wet dress drops on the floor and Theseus slips his tongue between my lips to battle with my own.
The heat from this morning has returned to my core and I was on fire with lust. He pulled back slowly for a moment, “do you want me to stop? Is this what you want?” For a moment I thought about the possibilities that this could end badly but that thought disappeared the moment his lips landed gracefully on my earlobe and nipped.
“No, don’t stop! I want this Theseus, but please be gentle…I’ve never…” as if he already knew he said
“It’s ok, I’ll take care of you love,” and kissed my jaw.
He led a path of sweet kisses down my neck and pulled my sopping dress off of me, followed by my bralette, stockings, shoes, and panties. Theseus knelt before me, running his hands slowly up my naked legs until he finally cupped my mound.
“Come,” he said and briskly pulled you along to your room where he sat you on the bed, “lay up on your bed and put your knees up.”
I did as he said as he undress quickly next to me. He looked so handsome. Once he was finally naked Theseus sat right next to your legs and pulled them open until your soaking tightness was revealed. His eyes met yours for a brief second before he leaned in and placed a kiss to your lips, his fingers began to rub up and down my mound for a moment before he spread my lips apart. His lips instantly went to my small aching bud, pulling moans and whimpers with every flick, circle, and suck. He brought one finger to your entrance and slowly pushed in and waited for a sign of pain but none came. He began to slowly through his long thick finger in and out adjusting his pace every so often. “Oh god, Theseus you make me feels so good!” I panted out. He then pushed in another digit, causing you to wince slightly at the pressure. He waited a few moments for you to adjust and then he began his slow pace again, in and out, over and over until i was a mewling mess. His fingers were dripping in my juices when he finally got me to cum, “oh, oh my! Oh Theseus! Don’t stop please don’t ever stop!”
He climbed over me then and pushed his boxers down, I gawked at the size of him. He pumped his hard, throbbing member a few times before looking in my eyes for permission. I gave him an eager nod and he lined up with my entrance and plunged into me just a bit and then back out and back in a bit more until he couldn’t go any further. He waited a few seconds and then began to rock into me gently. After a few minutes of the gentle rocking Theseus leaned back and began to thrust faster and harder. My slick coating his hard cock as he pushed into me coaxing sounds from me that even i’d never heard. Sweet moans and decadent whimpers and Theseus’ name flew past my lips at the speed of light when Theseus pressed his finger to my nub and moved in tight, quick circles causing me to see stars. My core hot and tight coiling up faster as Theseus deep moans and grunts fall to my ears. He looks at me then, deep into my eyes and as if he can sense that I’m close he cums deep into me. His hot ropes shooting into me finally make the hot coil in my core snap and the stars explode across my sight and I can’t help but cry out, “OH GOD THESEUS!!!” He only stops and pulls out once he’s helped me ride out my orgasm. I can feel his seed drip out, making me feel empty after being so full of him. Too tired to open my eyes I feel Theseus wrap me into his tired arms.
“Goodnight, my beautiful darling.” He whispered into my hair before placing a sweet kiss upon my head.
#theseus scamander#Theseus Scamander x oc#Theseus Scamander smut#fantastic beasts and the secrets of dumbledore#fantastic beasts and the crimes of grindlewald#smut#callum turner#callum turner fan fiction#Theseus Scamander fanfiction#fantastic beasts fanfiction#mature#no minors allowed#SPICY THESEUS
180 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ineffable Con 2020 Fun Facts
Fun facts from the Ineffable Con 2 (2020) guest panels :):
Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon and Rob Wilkins
David G. Arnold (the music composer)
Claire Anderson (the costume designer)
Peter Anderson (Peter Anderson Studio created the opening title animation and in-show graphics)
Paul Adeyefa (Disposable Demon)
Jeremy Marshall-Roberts (the owner of Mary the Bentley)
1. Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon and Rob Wilkins
What do they have from Good Omens:
Rob has the statue from St. Beryls, all four motorbikes from the four horsemen, Crowley’s Devon watch, box signed by David Tennant with Crowley’s sunglasses and Aziraphale’s cocoa mug with Michael Sheen’s DNA :).
Douglas has the playing cards from Episode 1 and heavily annotated Good Omens book they used for filming with inscription by Neil: ‘For Douglas, make us love, make us cry, 3rd August 2017’.
Neil has Aziraphale’s chair from the bookshop that he bought from the BBC and he uses it for Zoom meetings.
What is their favourite thing that was not in the book and was added to the TV show:
Neil: all of the first half of Episode 3 - an absolute joy.
Rob: also the beginning of Episode 3.
Douglas: David Arnold’s music and Peter Anderson’s front titles.
Could Aziraphale get out of the Bastille easily if he wanted to?
Neil: if he could: absolutely. Did he have any conception of the mess he was in: probably not. It’s one of Neil’s favourite pieces of acting - the absolute delight on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes that Crowley’s there and then he turns around and rather petulantly, grumpily goes oh it’s you - that moment of joy on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes that he’s been rescued is one of Neil’s favourite things.
Neil and yoghurt starter: I had this slightly mad thing where I would explain to everybody that fans were yoghurt starter. And I said, ‘Basically you start out with yoghurt starter and you put it into your warm milk and you leave it, and the yoghurt starter goes off and turns the entire thing into yoghurt.
Neil realized that there was a cat in his house (Neil doesn’t have a cat :)). After the panel Neil said that he was going to look for the cat with a can of sardines and Douglas joked that he would find Michael Sheen in a cat costume.
What was the best and worst about making the series:
Douglas: the best - the camaraderie, getting to know the people, the cast and crew.
Rob: the best - realizing that the book could be translated to the screen and watching it happen. The worst - coming to the end of the shoot and saying goodbye to everybody.
Neil: the best - the amount of love from everybody, the worst - fighting budget battles (producers wanted gone all of the cold opening and the death of Agnes Nutter).
Did they expect that Good Omens would attract so many LBGTQ+ people and how they feel about that:
Neil: Yes, absolutely. There are definitely people out there who seem to think that I accidentally wrote a love story with all of the beats of a love story including a break-up halfway through, without somehow noticing that I’d written a love story. And I may not be the brightest candle on the candelabra, but as an author who’s been doing it for a long time, I’m very well aware of when I’m writing a love story, thank you very much. And so from my perspective I knew that the love story would be one of the driving things that would get us from the beginning to the end. And I also made a bunch of decisions about our angels and our demons in terms of casting, in terms of gender that everybody backed me up on, which I loved. You know, the idea that the archangel Michael is played by Doon [Mackichan] is something that is... or Beelzebub is Anna Maxwell Martin, whatever, there’s... it’s not like we are going: these are women, there are men, we are going: these are demons, these are angels. They... this is not a thing. And also doing something like Pollution, where you go in and go: okay well if we were doing this in... if 1989 was now, if there were they pronouns, we probably would have done that. We didn’t think of it at the time but that’s no reason why we can’t do it now. And we did and I remember having a... not exactly a battle, but a... my very tiny skirmish with one of our execs who was very nice and very bright and was like: ‘Why are you saying they?’, and I’m like... and I... explaining, and he’s like: ‘Well I’ve never heard of that before.’, and I’m like: ‘Oh, okay, but trust me, just trust me, it’s all fine, just trust me.’
Douglas: And you know I have to say, just following on what Neil’s saying, I’ve been directing for quite a while, and I tend to notice if characters are falling in love, I tend to notice a love story happening in front of me, and I think it’s there, and everything is meant, guys, everything is meant.
Neil added: I would just say, there are some things that you do while you’re writing a script intentionally. The fact that... I wanted to do this, well, it was a thing I did that I really enjoyed doing... where whenever people accuse them of being a couple: they don’t deny it, they don’t argue, there’s no flustering on their part. They absolutely… you know, everybody… what I’m trying to say is: yes, other people in the story are perceiving them as a couple too. And here is Uriel perceiving them as a couple, here is wonderful Dan [Starkey, playing the passerby] …and you know, you do scenes like that because that’s... you are trying to make a point here and you’re trying to make a point on how people are perceived.
Season 2, yes or no [fiends, all three of them!]:
Douglas: What’s that?
Neil: Of what?
Rob: Is it muted for me as is for everyone else?
Neil confirmed that they are going to be Funko Pops. [yay!]
2. David G. Arnold (the music composer)
He didn’t read the book before he was approached to do the music. He was asked to do it by Douglas Mackinnon he knew from the Victorian episode of Sherlock and he said yes before even knowing what it was about because he wanted to work with Douglas again.
The first piece of music he wrote for the show was the brass band doing the Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon [Episode 6, in the park before the kidnapping].
The second piece of music he wrote was the lullaby that Crowley sings to Warlock. He always liked the lullabies like in Mary Poppins so he said to Neil: Why don’t we do it like Walt Disney, but if Walt Disney was possessed by Satan? That was about 7 months before he needed to write anything again while they were shooting and it kept going round his head the whole time - the melody stuck with him and when it came to the Opening Title of the show, this became the middle bit.
The original opening title was Everyday by Buddy Holly and each episode was supposed to be closed with a different version of it: a death metal version, an angelic choir version, a carmina burana version... and he actually made all those. But he likes to find the musical identity of the show and put it in the opening titles because it’s important and it tells you: ‘This is the word you’re going to experience’, so he wrote his own opening title with the lullaby in the middle and played it to them [probably Neil and Douglas] with Buddy Holly as the backup and: Neil just turned around in his chair and said, ‘That’s Good Omens.’. From that point the instructions were with no rules, just to create whatever he wanted: the further you can go the better, the weirder and the stranger you can think the better. It’s a rare thing to be shown a world like Good Omens and be let free to run around in it.
His favourite ending title is the Queen one in Episode 1.
One of the reasons he didn’t do a theme for Crowley and a theme for Aziraphale is that the theme of the show is theirs - it’s theirs and they share it and it’s both of theirs and there is no separating in that regard.
About Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship reflected in the music score: It’s interesting isn’t it, because the relationship changed in a way slightly frequently and majorly infrequently. It seemed right from the start that their relationship was somehow seeded and planted and had begun by the time we saw them even though they may not have realised it themselves, you know, with the pair of them on the wall, considering one is a demon in the Garden of Eden and one is an angel. They act very charitably towards each other and they act with a lot of things you might not expect. And underneath that there is a sort of sense of togetherness and support even though they both know that their paths are going to diverge and they have different responsibilities. So I always felt like, right from that moment, when the wing came up on the wall, that there was something special about their relationship. Three moments that stuck with him: in Episode 3 saving the books in the church when they completely rely on the other for survival in the way that they were very open about, one in the car outside the nightclub in 60s Soho - the Holy Water, you go too fast for me, that genuinely tearing, that there was reluctance in those words that he spoke and that sort of things as a composer is gold, it’s about making those moments more, and in the last episode in a scene they’re not event in when we see Adam and Dog in the fields and Anathema that music there which celebrates Crowley and Aziraphale’s music which is the theme of the show - their shadow has passed over everyone’s emotional journey, and everyone’s emotional journey is theirs as well. The argument in the bandstand was important as well.
His favourite leitmotif from the series is the lullaby.
About the scene in the car in episode 2 when Thomas Tallis changes into Queen: Terry’s favourite piece of classical music was the Thomas Tallis piece [Spem in Alium] so Neil asked if they can go from Thomas Tallis - a choral piece from 16th century - to We Will Rock You, and: ‘You never say no. You don’t say that you can’t do it. What you have to do is to be the first person who solves the problem.’ In the end it was a two-days work just for this little bit and he mentioned that he never had these sorts of challenges anywhere else before.
His favourite non-musical detail in the show - the crucifixion, how the scene was shot, how it was upsetting, and how it was made more effective by Aziraphale and Crowley’s inability to stop it, that they had to observe and watch it, that it had to happen. I remember seeing that at the time and thinking, I wasn’t expecting that level of brutal honesty, in terms of the pictures that I was looking at and what they chose to show. And I think all the more effective for it.
3. Claire Anderson (the costume designer)
When creating the costumes for the characters she started with mood boards.
Aziraphale - she knew that he needed to have something winglike in his collar so that’s why there are sweeping lapels very often. Using velvet [for the waistcoat] because that was nice and soft and had all the appropriate qualities. His watch and fob that has little gold wings hanging from it and other tiny bits of symbolism. Tartan bow tie. Beautiful cashmere checkered trousers - not quite tartan but a nod to it. A mid to late Victorian coat, Michael only made his decision on the coat a couple of days before the filming. Aziraphale in the present settled on a ring with angelic symbol and harp cufflinks, earlier his ring in ancient times has got a much more roughly hewn set of wings on it, so before jewellery making became sophisticated he modernised slightly - he magicked it up to be a bit more modern, more gentleman signet type of ring, but he never modernises entirely. His heart is much more in the past.
After they began to define Aziraphale they started to look at how the Heaven army of angels might look - the element of tartan came sort of from Aziraphale and the angels have a not-tartan kilt with a semi military type jacket and a military band across that might hold arms or not, because they are not really violent. She used spats to make them look quite neutral and genderless so hiding fastenings and concealing little details like that seemed a way to do that.
Gabriel doesn’t wear spats because he’s on Earth such a lot. His shoe has a cover with two buckles on the side giving the same neutral element. He wears a cashmere light-as-air suit.
The other angels are all in bastardized versions of what era they may have died in, so they could have died in the 1930s or the 1800s and the costume would have an element of that era about it - though of course as an angel you can change things.
The Quartermaster Angel - the costume is a combination of slightly Indian type military, maharaja pants, longer spats from another era, all combined pieces of military tailored to be magical and slightly nonsensical, as Heaven might be.
Crowley - she felt that he wrapped around like a snake sheds its skin so she wanted something double breasted because that seemed to envelope his snakey charm. David wanted to be more casual than wearing a suit. Under his collar he always has a flash of red like the snake that he comes from - the red belly. They put a red seam into the sole of his boots so always there is a hint of where he came from. The red tie in the blitz. He was more rock and roll than Aziraphale and modernised more to a snakehipped rock and roll star really. His present jacket - the fabric there is quilted, they found an 80s jacket that had elements of things they enjoyed - part of that was that it had a slightly quilted quality to the fabric which was like a textured snakeskin. It took quite a long time to create the fabric and then to make the jacket from that - they quilted some fabric and washed and whooshed it repeatedly to create a bit of puckering in it. He has a snakey scarf around his neck like a chain mail linked scales of skin scarf that he wore that complemented his neck chain. The trousers he wore in Victorian times are the same he wore in the 60s when he meets young Shadwell. His present trousers - slightly waxy denim - we just were looking for a slithery finish. Crowley’s neck chain - there is only one in the world - her tailor has a Gothic church full of interesting stuff like busts and drapes with old things, this chain mail scarf was there and David was looking for something to complete his costume and liked it.
Hastur and Ligur are her favourite characters - they were so enjoyable to create. She had an amazing book of 1920s and 30s criminals and they used that as a starting point, because they were all quite worn out and bedraggled and poverty stricken and like hell might be ideally. They burnt and decayed the bottom of them as if they were rotting from the Earth and rotting back into the ground - all demons have sort of gators as if they were rotting from the ground up.
One of the most difficult things was the demons - when they realized they had a few days to create hundreds of demons in South Africa (4-5 days for almost 200 demons). It was as if I had been dissolved in holy water when they asked me for another 150 costumes.
The sleeves of Anathema’s coat have been inspired by a Victorian cycling coat.
The historical costume that Newt’s ancestor wore influenced his and Shadwell’s costumes - they used elements of the historical costume to put a little cape on Newt and Shadwell and their wax coats to give them the quality of that look. Newt's costume has a lot of mustard to make him feel a bit awkward and uncomfortable - it's not the most flattering colour on a northern European complexion.
The nuns’ headdress needed to look a little bit demonic - she bought a whole book on nuns’ headdresses for research. They also used the V in the nurse's apron because that was nicely demonic. The nurses' watch has got this Satanic symbol at the top - a little take on the medical since old nurses’ uniforms used to have watches.
For Madame Tracy she went back into the 70s, slightly Biba-esque makeup and a cape. They had only one pair of her goggles so it was always a nightmare to find them.
Which part of the cold opening is her favourite: I love ancient Rome because there is at least 6 to 12 metre of fabric in a toga and that was quite fun wrapping that around the boys and creating those., and her favourite was the Globe.
The lapels represent wings in every way and every shape and every form. Wings are very important.
4. Peter Anderson (Peter Anderson Studio created the opening title animation and in-show graphics)
The first thing that the director Douglas Mackinnon (with whom he worked on Doctor Who and Sherlock) said to him was: for all the graphics, for all the title sequence, for everything, I want you to promise me one thing, and that is very, very simple, promise that you send me emails that say: ‘this might be absolutely nuts, but my idea is...’.
The opening title it’s full of easter eggs - it’s a type of sequence that’s been designed to watch a thousand times, for example: on the escalator down to Hell there is one character running up deciding that he doesn’t want to go to Hell or the sea is full of plastic bags because we don’t look after the planet.
Every single face in the title sequence is either Crowley’s or Azriphale’s, they are repeated all the way through - inspired by Neil saying that there’s good and evil in all of us, so there is a grand procession of people of all the characters from the story - marching towards Armageddon - but all the characters have been taken over by good or evil. And along the way our two heroes are kind of playing tricks on each other, doing good, doing evil
The opening title combines multiple elements - two dimensional animation elements, three dimensional animation elements, CGI and live action (the people in the procession were created by live action on a travelator). So the result is a kind of strangeness - such as 3D figures with 2D animated tracked heads - which makes it unique.
Their first idea and version of the opening title was based on tapestries of old, subverting them, but then they wanted something more new and fresh.
Both Douglas and Neil were an important part of the opening title creation process.
The opening title sequence took about a year to make from the creative start with four intensive months towards the end.
One of things that inspired him was a Bauhaus theatre image from 1930s.
Question if the hand-drawn font for the graphics will be a purchasable font: no, because it was original and it’s unique and it was created just for this - it was for the love of the show and the story and it will be kept there.
In the scene where there are three photos of witchfinders - Neil and Douglas revealed in the DVD commentaries that two of them are their grandfathers - the third one is Peter’s great uncle.
Originally the signs telling us things like ‘Thursday’ or ‘Mesopotamia’ - were done as if somebody (who was living inside the television screen) ran up close to the screen and showed us the sign. In the end they simplified it, only showing the signs. The one time that it was sort of left in the show was when in Episode 5 a little demon in the video game shows a sign ‘GAME OVER’.
Outside of his work on it, what was his favourite thing on Good Omens: spending time with Douglas and Neil, and also working with Milk VFX - I think I can honestly say it's the best job I've ever worked on with the nicest people.
5. Paul Adeyefa (Disposable Demon)
He first read the book when preparing for the audition - the character wasn’t in the book but he got into it, loved it and couldn’t put it down.
He didn’t know about the name Eric until the script was published and people started calling the demon that, he really likes the name and thinks it fits.
There was a version of the script where the demon was going to be dressed in different costumes each time he was discorporated (for example one in long hair wearing a dress) - they would be all the same but different incarnations, in one version they had different accents.
The first scene he shot was the one where the demon goes to Heaven to deliver the Hellfire (and also wants to hit ‘Aziraphale’ which was cut). That first day was also his favourite moment of shooting because there was an immediate welcoming atmosphere and everyone was lovely and in love with the production.
Disposable Demon is like a permanent intern, running errands for the higher ups in Hell.
His favourite part of the costume were the eyelashes (though he loved the whole costume).
If he could change anything about the costume he would also want cool contact lenses - some brightly coloured ones.
Question what animal (like other demons have on their heads) comes to mind when we see the Disposable Demon: he didn’t think about it at the time, but later he saw people talking about his horns as bunny ears and found it interesting, and also the facts that there are so many of him and that he is quite happy and friendly for a demon so the bunny makes sense, so he might be a sort of a rabbit. Or perhaps something goat type because of the horns.
Question if there is another role in Good Omens he would have liked to have played: he always thought that the four horsemen were very cool and Pollution was his favourite so probably Pollution (also was the most jealous of Pollution’s contact lenses).
If there were a season 2, he would be there in a heartbeat.
Question about Eric’s feelings on Crowley, if he’s a bit of a Crowley fan: I think he might be. There is something about Crowley and how he is somehow a little bit different from the rest of the demons. - and the Disposable Demon has, much like Crowley, interest in the human world. He could well be 6,000 how many years old, the same as everyone else, but he seems to have this younger vibe and I think he thinks that Crowley is quite cool.
Good Omens fandom is his first experience with a fandom of this scale. It speaks a lot, the fact that this kind of very, this minor character, a character who is only on screen for a very short amount of time gets any kind of attention at all, it's quite amazing really, it goes to show how big and enthusiastic the fans are. I never experienced anything like that.
6. Jeremy Marshall-Roberts (the owner of Mary the Bentley)
When Crowley used a miracle to switch off the Bentley lights in Episode 1 at nuns manor it was done by: there was actually a very small guy called Louis turning on and off the switches quickly.
David Tennant was allowed to wear the snake eye contacts for only 3 hours a day otherwise they could damage his eyesight.
For Mary, the Bentley, it was the second time she was ‘blown up’ on film - first being in the Endeavour with Inspector Morse about three years earlier.
He was a bit nervous during filming the bookshop fire scene because the Bentley was so close to a real fire - not wanting the paint to blister. The car was moved off after a few minutes of filming but still.
About the damage to Mary: Unfortunately, we overran, and Rob my stunt driver had already booked a holiday and off he went and so when he returned in January, on the 10th of January, I had this new driver who really had no clue how to drive old cars, so I showed him around, I showed him to go around corners. He came around the corner, the door was not closed properly for some reason and the door flew open as he went around. And instead of slamming on the brakes which is extremely efficient and would stop him straight away he kept on going, hit another car and really smashed the door quite badly. It did take the car off the roads for 10 months. The door was completely remade because of this accident and it cost the total of £24 000 to rebuild the car to get it back to running as it is today.
The Bentley’s part most difficult to maintain and service is the engine.
Would Mary be available for a potential season 2: definitely!
#good omens#ineffable con#neil gaiman#douglas mackinnon#rob wilkins#david g arnold#claire anderson#peter anderson#peter anderson studio#paul adeyefa#disposable demon#jeremy marshall-roberts#bentley#ineffable con 2#ineffable con 2020#bts#fun fact#costumes#music#opening title#long post#finally finished this post#can I hear a wahoo? :)
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Eunoia // Ch. 12
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: 18.1k+
Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, mentions of putting down hybrids, discussion of insomnia caused by a traumatic event, panic attacks, derogetory language
Masterlist
Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Phew, that was long one. Please comment and reblog it really motivates me to keep writing. And I always love receiving asks so don’t be shy ;)
"I can't believe this is happening! Why can't I receive good news for once?" After the initial shock, you were fuming. "Work of months has been destroyed and for what? Because someone decided not to take the proper safety measures to save some money. People could have been hurt in there! Seriously hurt. And it would have been on our heads!"
Namjoon was holding your phone, the email you had received opened on the screen. "You didn't know they hadn't taken the necessary precautions. It wouldn't have been on your head."
"Can you imagine what would have happened if we had been filming? If the actors and the crew were inside and the building collapsed on us?" The chair scraped against the floor as you raised to your feet. You couldn't stay sitting anymore. "I don't even want to think about that. How many people... If we would even get out of there alive. And it isn't only us. What if the earthquake hadn't hit at night? And the workers were still inside? What then? This is wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to count."
Five point six Richter. That was the magnitude of the earthquake that had hit Virginia. It had been felt in Washington. They said it had affected a radius of two hundred kilometers around the center of the earthquake. No one had expected it and no one had been prepared. In the email there was a detailed description of how the earthquake had caused the sets for The Raven Cycle to collapse in on themselves, because the respective protection measures hadn't been taken. The earthquake had hit at night, waking up everyone in the area and causing panic as people flooded the streets. They had discovered the ruined sets in the morning.
Protection measures were of utmost important in every environment and you were baffled that a film studio with such prestige would disregard them so easily. You had half a mind to storm into the building you had just returned from and make a scene in front of everyone. They had put everyone in danger, not only the actors and the crew and all the people working there but also the passersby who could have had metal rods falling on their heads.
How could they allow this? How could they be so careless? It wasn't a building made for only a couple of days of use with light materials. Filming would take place there for the better part of the summer. In a few months you would have been there. You could have been there.
"And now you have to leave?" Namjoon asked, jaw tense. "Can't you wait a few days and go later?" You knew what he was thinking. You didn't want to leave either. It was the worst time possible for you to leave. The two hybrids in the guestroom, the injuries you had to tend to, Jimin and Jungkook, Jimin's past. But it wasn't your decision to make.
"I can't, they have already planned the whole trip. It isn't like I have a choice. The message is clear, I will be flying to Virginia in two days. As the director and showrunner, I have to be there. They have called everyone important in the project and I am one of the lucky ones. And it isn't like I can refuse unless I have a very important reason. And I can't exactly tell them I am nursing to health a stray hybrid until he and his friend can live on their own again, instead of reporting them to the hybrid services."
Namjoon's face scrunched up at the mention of the services. They were anything but kind to hybrids. They thought they could do anything to them if they were strays before they had to give them to a center. The times he and his small pack had to run away from them weren't few. It disgusted you, the way some people behaved.
You landed back on your chair with a huff, tired of pacing. Namjoon must have got a headache from the way his eyes were following you. "This is just what I didn't need. I thought we wouldn't have to go to Virginia until summer!"
You felt like banging your head on the wall but you settled for laying you head on the desk. It collided with a dull thud.
It wasn't only the destroyed set and what that meant for the show. Slowing down of the production, a larger budget needed (oh, the irony) and the bad press you would get if it got out.
People in the area must have suffered. Flashes of collapsed buildings, shattered windows and cracks in the streets ran through your mind. No, it couldn't be that bad. You prayed it wasn't that bad.
Namjoon frowned. "What are you supposed to do there? You aren't going to help rebuild the sets. What do they need you for?" You could see the worry in his eyes. His instincts calling him to protect you, to not let you leave. You appreciated the fact he was fighting it.
With your cheek squished against the desk you said, "No, I'm not going to rebuild the sets, but they need me there nonetheless. There is a legal part of this whole thing I have to be there for. And me being there might help the ones doing the rebuilding."
Namjoon sighed, giving up on trying to keep you here. "Will John come with you?"
"Most likely," you said, raising your head from the desk and sitting back on the chair. Your back hurt from the awkward angle you had bent your body in. "I will ask him but I'm pretty sure he will say yes. He always comes with me when I'm working out of California. He has toured half of the world being my bodyguard. And this time.... This time I don't think he would let me go without him."
"It seems you do tend to travel a lot," Namjoon noted. There wasn't any judgment or disdain in his voice, he was simply stating a fact. If anything he looked at the cream and gold world globe on your desk with longing. He had told you he had never left California, created and bred in Los Angeles. You didn't like how he said "created" but you couldn't correct him. "It must be nice seeing all those places."
The gold of the globe caught the light, distorted figures moving on the polished surface. "It's nice when it's properly planned and when I actually want to go. And there aren't any natural disasters involved. I can't say that's true this time. It's the furthest it could be from the truth." You groaned. "What am I going to do now? I can't leave like this. There are so many things going on."
Namjoon was too close to what he looked like talking to you about the ending of the Book Thief. "How long will you be gone?"
"A week?" The email didn't specify. A week was how long most work trips that didn't include filming lasted, but this wasn't a normal work trip. This had never happened to you or to anyone you knew before. You had heard of disasters but nothing like this.
Your fingers had subconsciously started drumming a tune on the desk. A tune that had comforted you once. A tune he used to hum long before he turned it into a song. You stilled your hand.
An earthquake. Five point six Richter. Shaking buildings, rattling shelves, trembling chandeliers, cupboards opening and dishes and glasses falling to the floor. The kind of thing you see on the TV. The kind of thing you don't ever expect to witness. No one expects a disaster like that to strike out of the blue, but that's the way it is. There is no one to warn you, no one who can.
You didn't go to dinner. You told Namjoon not to wait for you, you would eat later. Climbing down the stairs, you stopped in front of the door and knocked. The reply was the same and Yoongi opened the door like every time.
Every room had a medical kit in the bathroom, the one in this had to be restocked twice in the past few days.
Hoseok gave you a small smile and extended his broken arm. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you started telling him of the time you had spent in the Caribbean Sea. You had stayed there for a few months and had spent most of that time in Jamaica and Puerto Rico. The sandy beaches, the endless turquoise sea and the colorful houses didn't fail to bring a smile to your face. The people had been welcoming and kind, eager to help with any problems production faced. They invited you to nights full of dancing and music and included you in everything like you belonged there.
The movie you had filmed wasn't one of your biggest hits. It wasn't nominated for an Oscar and although it did earn much recognition and was played at multiple international film festivals, it wasn't as successful as your other films. But it was the most fun you had had filming. The actors were incredible both at their job and out of it. You had spent some of the best nights of your life there.
As you fastened the splint in place around Hoseok's arm, you told him of the night they had lit large bonfires along the beach and all the people in the area had gathered around to have a few drinks and dance. Your mind, however, wasn't on the story. A fractured arm and a rib wasn't something you should be treating at home. It didn't matter how many first aid classes you had attended, a lot of things could go wrong. But it was either this or nothing. When you had suggested taking Hoseok to the hospital, Yoongi had almost bitten your head off.
Hoseok was laying back against the pillows with his eyes clothes when you were done. He was doing better. Having regular meals and being able to wash made the improvement more evident. He didn't complain when you were treating him but you could see his eyes clenching shut when you were applying salve to the most tender spots. The stories helped. They distracted him and you could work easier. He rarely spoke but lately he had been brave enough to voice any questions he had and you had readily answered him. Progress. Progress you hoped wouldn't halt now.
"This is it for today," you said, rubbing your hands together and getting up. "In a few days you won't have any trouble moving around on your own. Not anything too strenuous, though, no running or jumping around."
"Thank you." Hoseok spoke softly, like being any louder would break an unspoken rule. Like it would get him punished.
Yoongi was sitting on the chaise lounge by the glass wall, facing away from you. The fire pits were lit all the way along the balconies, flames licking up the darkness of the night. He didn't look at you while you were there, only stealing glances when he thought you weren't looking. When his eyes met yours he would scowl and look away.
"There is something I wanted to tell you," you started. You didn't know how else to say it so you jumped in head first. "I was called to Virginia for work. I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow." Yoongi's back stiffened, his tail stilling in the air. Hoseok's eyes turned impossibly wide. "I don't know yet how long I will stay there but it will be some time before I can come back. I thought you should know because I won't be able to treat you."
Yoongi huffed. "Who will be our caretaker then?"
You paused by the door. "Do you think you need one?"
"Is this a joke?" Yoongi's fists clenched. There was no blood on them anymore.
It wasn’t a secret that hybrids were treated like pets, that included having someone babysit them when the owner was gone. You had been through it before when you had left for New York shortly after you had adopted Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. Everyone had expected you to ask someone to take care of them. You hadn’t. They could take care of themselves and each other just fine.
It was the same now.
“If you think you need a caretaker I can hire one for you, but I doubt you do,” you said. “I think you can survive in the Castle without me for a few days. If I’m gone for longer than a week, Helen my housekeeper will come over to do some cleaning. She usually comes over a few times a week. And the gardener comes by quite often. ”
Yoongi looked stunned but schooled his features quickly. Hoseok’s ears were pinned against his head. You closed the door behind you.
Why did your work’s timing had to always be that bad?
An earthquake. A fucking earthquake.
In the kitchen, the table was served. The mouthwatering smell of the food drifted in the air. Jimin, Namjoon and Jin were sitting around the table, Jungkook absent once again. No one had touched their plates.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” you said taking your seat. Your plate was filled with a generous slice of meat pie and fresh salad. Your stomach grumbled. You hadn’t noticed you were that hungry.
“We wanted to wait for you.” Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, it hadn’t since the day he had come running to you, begging you to take him with you to work. Jungkook spent most of his time at the atelier and he slept in Jin’s room at night. Every time he didn’t show up for meals, the light in Jimin’s eyes dimmed further.
You picked up your fork and knife and cut into the pie. The taste was heavenly, not that you had expected anything else from Jin. You told him so and delighted in the way he got flushed and tried to cover it by a terrible joke he must have come up with on the spot. While you ate, you didn’t speak much, thinking about the best way to bring up the news crawling up your throat. Namjoon squeezed your hand under the table.
When your plates were empty and Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder, you decided it was time. You put your fork aside. You started by the email, the email that had looked so inconspicuous at first because you received emails like that all the time. An email labeled “important” was often not as important as the people sending it thought it was. You couldn’t have guessed what it contained inside. You hadn’t been prepared.
Your leg was moving up and down on the metal foothold of the stool, mimicking your racing heartbeat. An earthquake had struck Virginia at night. You repeated the dry words of the email, of someone who hadn’t felt the terror of the earth shaking underneath their feet. Five point six Richter, strong enough to knock down the sets they had been building for months. You were required to be there in two days.
Jimin’s bottom lip was trembling. “How long will you stay?”
You shook your head. It was the same question you were asking and had no answers for. Even if you called someone in the company they wouldn’t have anything but speculations for you. “I hope no more than a week.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” Jin asked. “What if there are aftershocks, or if it was a warning for a larger one coming?”
Jin’s question brought an dreadful shine to Jimin’s eyes. You had thought of that as well but your mind was troubled already as it was. Questions of your safety would take this too far. For once, you didn’t trust the company you were working with to keep you safe. You would have to do research before you left and take all the necessary precautions. You wouldn’t risk it like they had.
Namjoon wrapped his hand around his glass but didn’t bring it to his lips. “John will be with her. They will be alright.” It didn’t calm down Jimin who hugged himself tightly, dropping his head to his chest.
You couldn’t watch him suffering anymore. Getting up, you walked to him and hugged his from behind, prying his hands away so they were over yours instead. “I promise I’ll call you every day and we will text. It’s like when I was in New York and you texted me every day about what you got up to and what you were thinking. Your texts made me forget all about work and how tired I was.” Jimin sniffled but his cheeks remained dry. “It’s only a few days. They’ll be over soon. You won’t be alone here.”
Jin ruffled Jimin’s hair and the cat hybrid wrapped one arm around the oldest, pulling him into the hug. You placed a kiss on both their head, making Jin flush again. He wasn’t used to physical attention the way Jimin was but he craved it too and you were trying to make sure he felt as loved as he was.
Namjoon held Jimin while you and Jin cleaned the table. He grabbed Jimin’s thighs lifting him up and carried him to the living room. The younger laughed all the way there, telling him to put him down. His tight hold around Namjoon’s neck told him a very different thing.
But you weren’t done yet. You had one more person to tell.
The atelier’s door was half open. You knocked once on the wood before opening it all the way. The room could be described as an organized mess. Two canvases were set up in the middle of the room and three half-finished ones stood against the cabinets. The floor was covered in newspapers splattered with all the colors of the rainbow and paint tubes were lined on the tables in no particular order.
“I finished dinner, you can take it,” he said, gesturing to the tray on one of the tables with the hand not holding a brush.
“That isn’t why I’m here.” One of his ears perked up as you walked closer. The canvas he was working on now was a blend of shades of purple, orange and yellow with no definitive details. “What are you painting.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know yet.” Moving forward with no destination. You knew how that felt.
Jungkook hadn’t distanced himself just from Jimin but from everyone. He didn’t run to you to hug you and scent you when you came back like he used to do. He didn’t come up to the living room to watch TV and talk until you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open. He didn’t show you his progress on the paintings. He didn’t annoy Jin while he cooked (the oldest liked it even if complained). He didn’t come to meals. Meals were family time.
Being in the atelier now was different to any other time. It was the stifling feeling of an empty page, which used to be ecstasy. It was wrong, something missing.
“I have to leave for Virginia the day after tomorrow,” you said, ripping the band-aid off. The times you had said it today were too many. Surprised doe eyes turned to you. You explained the story once again and waited.
Jungkook seemed to be bracing himself for something. “Can you take me with you?”
“Take you with me?” you repeated, dumbfounded.
He nodded. The brush he had been holding had fallen to the floor at some point painting the newspapers in a shock of deep purple. Neither of you had noticed. “I won’t bother you. I’ll listen to everything you say. You can leave me at the hotel. I won’t cause any trouble, no one will know I’m there.” He lowered his head. “I need to be away from here.”
“Jungkook…” Your hand touched his cheek and you felt the way he clenched his jaw under the touch. “If this is-”
“Don’t,” he begged, pulling away. A pained desperation coloring his voice. “You don’t know what I did. If you did-” He took a sharp breath. “Can I come with you? Please.”
Stifling. You hadn’t considered taking any of the hybrids with you now. You had planned on inviting them along when you would go there for filming, a much more fun part of your job. This would be a busy trip and most likely far from enjoyable. It could be dangerous. But Jungkook’s eyes were begging you. He was fading away locked up in the atelier avoiding everyone.
“Okay. If you really want to, you can come with me. I’ll help you pack the essentials,” you said. Jungkook visibly relaxed. Maybe you should have pressed more. Insisted on him speaking with Jimin before you left or after you came back. But you were exhausted and a headache was brewing behind your temples.
Jungkook glanced at a canvas covered with a white sheet at a corner. You’d let it go for now.
When Jimin sneaked into your room late into the night, you didn’t say anything pulling up the covers in a silent invitation. Jimin crawled underneath and hid in your arms. Against every expectation you fell asleep. Orange bottle untouched in the bathroom cabinet.
The days leading up to your departure were every kind of hectic. Panic had taken over the studios and the atmosphere was tense in every meeting. No one wanted to admit the colossal mistake that could have cost the lives of so many people. The press was another matter entirely. The project could get a bad reputation before it was aired. It was emotionally exhausting, your brain working in overdrive, coming up with solutions to problems that may or may not arise. You had to be prepared for the worst.
At home it wasn’t much better. You had started packing for the weird end-of-spring weather in Virginia. The Raven Cycle books and a little research had provided you with enough information about what to expect. Dry, warm and with a possibility of thunderstorms. It could also get cold at night so you made sure to pack a few sweatshirts.
You helped Jungkook pack his things in a similar way. He had a habit of wearing long sleeves even when it was hot so you packed a few more sweatshirts and hoodies for him. He continued not talking much but he looked calmer now that you were leaving. All you wanted to do was hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. But you didn’t think that would be welcome.
Jimin had timidly offered to take care of Hoseok’s injuries while you were gone. You hesitated at first. While they had been here Jimin and Yoongi hadn’t interacted much. You had expected they would talk, figure out the strange tension between them, but they had kept to themselves. You gave in in the end. The worst had come and passed and you trusted Jimin to provide the basic care Hoseok needed.
He came with you to their room before dinner and you explained to him what you were doing. Hoseok was a little more withdrawn than usual but he didn’t protest, smiling at Jimin.
You had a long talk with Namjoon in your office the night before the day you were scheduled to leave. There were a lot of things to talk about and you tried to get everything out. All your worries and all the things you thought he should know. When you were spent and his reassurances were buried deep in your chest, he brought you close to him, rubbing his face in your neck. He places light kissed on your skin, his lips trailing up until they were touching yours.
The house was silent. You opened your eyes blearily, staring at your phone. The ringing of the alarm had stopped, leaving large numbers reading the time on the screen. The blinds were closed hiding the morning from you.
There was a weight on your chest. You looked down to find tired eyes staring up at you. Jimin made a small sound in the back of his throat and nuzzled against you. His blond hair was soft against your fingers as you combed through it. A loud purr escaped him as you scratched the base of his cat ears. He held on to you tighter but the alarm was clear, you needed to get up and get ready. You had a flight to catch.
“No, don’t go,” Jimin whined.
You massaged his head down to his neck. “I have to get up. I’ll miss the plane if I’m late.”
In the shadows of the room you could see the pout on his full lips. “What if you miss it?”
“If I miss it, I’ll get in trouble. And I’d rather not get in trouble.” Jimin snuggled closer to you and you could smell the vanilla shampoo he loved. Mia had said in the early days that she had smelt vanilla and muffins on you and you had guessed that was Jimin’s scent. The shampoo must serve to accentuate his natural scent.
His cat ears lowered as his tail wrapped around your bare leg. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling of the soft fur against your skin. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I know, that’s why I have to go.” You untangled yourself from the hybrid and pressed the button for the blinds to retreat. The morning light spilled into the room. It caught on Jimin’s curls painting them golden. You had an urge to capture the moment with your camera, the way he looked so soft, hair mussed and eyes still dreaming. Carving the image in your memory, you walked to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day.
Getting dressed for a flight was different than getting dressed for any other work day. You liked to wear something comfortable that wouldn’t look too bad on camera. You weren’t the kind of celebrity to get mobbed every time you went out but sometimes paparazzi could get wind of where you were going and show up at the airport. When you were traveling for premieres or events, fans and paparazzi would fill the place.
The previous night you had set aside a pair of loose black pants and a red top. You would also take your leather jacket with you because it could get chilly on the plane.
Jimin, wearing his stripped white and blue pajamas with the little pink hearts, clung to you like a koala all the way to breakfast. He only let go of you when you placed your large black bag on the floor and took a seat at the kitchen island. Jin was finishing up with cooking, taking the pots off the stove. Breakfast was almost ready.
John would be coming later to drive you to the airport. The black SUV had turned into a sign you would be traveling. Because of the sheer volume of the luggage you always ended up with, a large car was needed to drive you to and from the airport. This time you had packed two suitcases and your handbag. You had been tempted to fill a sac-voyage as well but you quickly abandoned the thought.
Namjoon arrived, looking wide awake. The opposite of Jimin and his drooping eyes. Only one was missing. And you weren’t compromising today.
“Jungkook?” you asked. The others exchanged a glance. It told you enough. “I’m going to go get him. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Their gazes followed you as you left. They probably didn’t believe you could get him to come up. And any other day that could have been the case.
The door of the atelier was closed but you were sure Jungkook was inside. The amount of time he had been spending in there was unhealthy but you were the last person who could judge him, having spent the majority of your so called break in your office. You knocked three times before opening the door.
Jungkook was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, lost in a place that used to scream comfort. Did it still? You couldn’t feel it anymore. The canvases were all in their places and the paints and brushes had been tidied up. Sitting on the paint splattered newspapers in his completely black clothes, Jungkook looked lost.
“We’re having breakfast upstairs,” you said.
Jungkook’s eyes cleared, just enough for most of the fog to disappear. One bunny ear drooped down and he swiped it away from his face. “Can’t Jin bring it to me?”
You shook your head. “Jin isn’t bringing anything to you. You will be coming to breakfast and eat with us like you used to.”
He lowered his head, both ears falling in his face. “I can’t.”
“You very much can and you will.” You tried to be gentle but you were firm on this. “You will come up and we will all eat breakfast together. We are leaving in a few hours for the other side of the United States and I have no idea when we will be back. You aren’t doing anything here and everyone wants to see you and spend some time together.”
“Not everyone.” It was so low he probably hadn’t meant for you to hear.
“Everyone,” you said, kneeling by his side. “Everyone wants to see you.” You brushed his bangs off his face, petting his ears in the process. He didn’t relax the way he usually did, melting in your hands, but he did lean into the touch. “One breakfast. That’s all I’m asking for. You said you’d listen to me if I took you with me to Virginia.”
He couldn’t disagree with that and when you offered him your hand he took it.
Jungkook and Jimin had had a special bond. That first night you had seen it in the way Jimin cried begging you to help Jungkook, to heal him. You had seen it in the way Jungkook, beat up and having trouble breathing, was asking Jimin if he was injured, if he needed to be treated first and Jimin had cried every time Jungkook flinched but smiled and squeezed his hand to ease the pain. Nothing had changed the longer you spent with them, the way they loved and cared for each other only becoming more apparent.
Jungkook had gone to Namjoon crying, saying he had hurt Jimin but you couldn’t imagine him doing anything but loving him. Misunderstandings preyed on everyone and they were hungry for those who loved each other. They would get through it, you assured yourself. They were strong and they cared too much to continue hurting each other like this. You cared too much too, you wouldn’t let this get out of hand.
They needed a break, that’s what it was. Jungkook had been right, the trip would help put some distance between them to think clearer. You would make sure when you returned they would be ready to face whatever had happened between them.
Jimin lit up at seeing Jungkook but the light dimmed when the younger didn’t even glance his way. You sighed into your orange juice.
After breakfast Jungkook carried up his suitcase while you went to another room. Three knocks and a question of who it was. It had become routine. Hoseok smiled at you, he had been doing that more and more.
You sat down at the side of the bed, Yoongi watching you from the chaise lounge, his ears standing alert. “I’m just here to check on you one last time before I go. Jimin will take over after this.”
Hoseok was sitting with his back against the headboard. He hadn’t been able to do that without hurting the first days. “When will you be leaving?”
Touching his arm to inspect it, you said, “John will be here in about thirty minutes but the flight isn’t for another two hours. We have to be early at the airport because the process to get on the plane takes a long time. Do you want to hear about the first time I got on a plane? That’s a funny story.”
Hoseok nodded enthusiastically so you started recounting the time you were sixteen and you had to take a plane to get to the film festival that was held in France. The short film you had directed would be played there. The only problem was that you had never been on a plane before and the prospect of flying wasn’t appealing to you in the least. It just happened that the flight was far from calm.
The check up was finished halfway through the story but Hoseok touched your arm, wordlessly asking you to finish it. At your arrival in France Hoseok’s smile dissolved.
“I have to get going, John will be here soon,” you said getting up. Hoseok had met John only after you had told him of the time both of you had gotten lost in London. John had been insisting he knew what he was doing leading you deeper into the maze of streets. Because of that a few more stories the bodyguard had guest-starred in, the fox hybrid hadn’t looked as terrified as some people did at the side of the giant of a bodyguard.
“Thank you for,” he gestured to himself “this. And the stories. Thank you for the stories.”
You stopped by the door. “It was my pleasure.”
John was at the Castle right on time, parking the SUV close to the front door. He helped you carry everything to the car, which meant he carried the three suitcases while Jungkook insisted he could help. The bunny hybrid did help but only because John took pity on him and let him help with putting the suitcases in the trunk.
You lowered your sunglasses. No wind and no cloud in sight. You would have a calm trip.
You hugged all the hybrids, letting them scent you. Jimin’s eyes were growing misty and you hugged him extra hard assuring him you would be back soon. You rubbed your forehead against Jin’s and kissed his cheek in goodbye, his skin warming up under your lips. Goodbyes were hard and you’d thought you’d gotten used to them. Saying goodbye to Taylor and Zayn before tours, to your aunt the rare times you could visit her, to your friends, to the actors and the crew.
And yet your chest was tight.
Namjoon was talking with John by the car and you heard him asking John to take care of you and Jungkook. John replied he would protect you with his life. John was your bodyguard but this had been more than a job to him for a long time.
From the corner of your eye you saw Jimin approach Jungkook. He reached to touch him, hug him. Jungkook flinched. Jimin’s hand hovered in the air before going limp. He backed away, his chin dropping to his chest and jaw trembling.
You bit the inside of your cheek. A hand landed on your shoulder and you turned to find Namjoon standing next to you. You weren’t the only one who had watched the youngests’ exchange. You hid in his arms, forgetting about the world for a moment. The two hybrids who loved each other too much, the trip you had to take, production being halted, that godforsaken earthquake. He nosed along your neck, his warm breath tingling your skin.
Jungkook got into the car first, an escape, and you followed soon after, a necessity. The house got smaller and smaller behind you as the car drove away. The Castle fading in the distance. Another trip. Different reasons, a different disaster, but familiar territory. Once you used to be excited about these trips, exploring a new place and living new experiences. Where had that part of yourself gone?
But you weren’t alone this time. Jungkook was looking out of the window, his head laying against the glass. You would take him to that yogurt shop you had liked so much and you would show him the park you wanted to film at and take him to that endearing small cinema. Yeah, you would do that.
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
The hotel towered over the rest of the buildings in the area. It wasn’t the same one you had stayed on your first visit last year, more grand and definitely more expensive. The company had gone all out. An admirable attempt to quell your anger, yet it continued simmering underbeath your skin. A young man was waiting for you outside, taking the suitcases from the car and leading you to the lobby.
Jungkook looked around with wide eyes and an open mouth. There was so much glass and marble, almost everything was made using these two materials.
The receptionist smiled at you wide, her teeth white and straight like her uniform. She welcomed you to the hotel and handed you two key cards, white with a gold line on front and the room numbers in cursive. Two cards.
“I was sure I’d forgotten something,” you muttered.
The receptionist’s smile faltered. “Is something not to your liking, miss?”
Two cards. One for your room and one for John’s. You had notified the company about Jungkook accompanying you but you hadn’t requested another room. Granted, you had thought they would come to the conclusion on their own. One more room would have cost them a lot, though. Easy way out. But you couldn’t exactly blame them. At hotels, owners rarely bothered to spend money on a room for their hybrids.
You held the cards like a magician ready to do a trick, showing them to John.
“Shouldn’t there be one more?” he asked.
The woman behind the desk blinked a few times. “More? Two rooms were booked in the name Y/N Y/L/N. Is there a problem?”
You sighed. “No, I guess there isn’t. Or there wasn’t supposed to be.” Jungkook watched the exchange shifting from foot to foot. His black hoodie was a size too big and he was drowning in it. “Do you have any available rooms in the same floor.”
“I’m afraid we don’t, miss. The rooms on the top floor are all booked for the night.”
“Great.” You couldn’t think of another solution, you would have to make do. “Thank you. We’ll be going now.”
“Have a nice stay,” the receptionist said.
The elevator was as luxurious as the lobby, a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. John had your black bag slung over his shoulder. The man with your suitcases was already gone, you would find them in your rooms when you arrived. There was a mirror to your left and leaning your back against the wall your gazed at your reflection. With your black circles hidden with concealer and carefully applied makeup, you looked just a little tired from the flight. You had brushed your hair on the plane and it fell in waves over your shoulders, curling at the tips.
Jungkook hadn’t been to a hotel before and it showed as he tried to take everything in. The lights that were on even in the afternoon, the golds and whites, the mirrors and glass and the velvet seats. It was wonderful but still it wasn’t the best hotel you had stayed at.
The elevator’s doors opened with a ding and you walked into the well-lit corridors. Doors were on either side with a sitting area at the front. You had stayed in many hotels over the years but they were nothing more than a place for rest. Sleep and shower, that’s all you did in your room. And sometimes breakfast or dinner if you didn’t feel like going out.
Stopping in front of a white door, you checked the numbers on the cards again. The two rooms were very close, only a few meters distance from each other.
Two rooms. Right.
You handed John his key card. “So, we’ve got two rooms…” Jungkook looked at you curiously. “I hope you don’t mind staying in my room with me for now. Unless you would prefer staying with John and his snoring.”
John pointed a finger at you. “Hey, I don’t snore.”
You hummed. “Sure you don’t. What I have been hearing all those years must be the pigs outside.”
Jungkook was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand and doing a poor job of it.
John dropped your bag by your feet. “Do you hear her? No respect for me. That’s what I get for listening to your every whim for years. I’ll go to my room now and snore in peace.”
You giggled as John struggled to swipe the key card right. With an ‘aha’, he managed to open the door and get inside. You swiped your own card, the door clicking open at the first try. Both of you had been doing it for years but John was more of a fan of traditional keys.
The company had booked a suite for you, which you guessed was one of the best in the hotel. The door opened to a grand living room with white velvet couches and armchairs and a 75 inch TV. You took off your sneakers before stepping on the wool carpet, it was white with veins of gold running through it.
You fell on the couch, taking off your backpack and placing it on the floor. “I’m sorry for this, I thought they would book three rooms for us.”
Jungkook looked at you from where he was still standing by the door, his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack. “Why would they book three rooms?” There was a gap here. Hybrids stayed with their owners, that was the norm. You realized that was what he had expected.
“We are three people. I thought you would want your own room. I told them you would be coming with me for the tickets but they didn’t change the rooms they had booked.” You threw your head back and closed your eyes. “Everything is going so well already.”
There a shuffling of feet from the door. “I thought… I can stay with John if he doesn’t mind or… I can…”
You opened your eyes. Jungkook was looking at the floor, his ears drooped at the sides of his head. “What are you talking about?”
Jungkook hugged himself. “I don’t want to bother you.”
And it clicked. You got up from the couch. “Oh, bunny. You aren’t bothering me. I only wanted one more room because I thought that’s what you wanted, that you wanted your own space.” You didn’t touch him, remembering him flinching and pulling away, but you stayed close to show him you were there for him.
“Oh, I-” He flushed, not knowing what to say. You had been past that stage and it was unfortunate to see the shyness and hesitance come back.
“Come on, take off your shoes,” you said, motioning for him to come further into the room. “I desperately need a shower. Then we can rest. I don’t have to do anything until late tonight. Do you want to go in first?”
Jungkook sat down gingerly on the couch. “No, no, you can go in first. I think I’ll sleep a little.”
You stopped him before he could lay down. “Here?”
Confused, he looked around at the furniture. “Should I take the smaller couch?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said. “But there is a huge bed in the bedroom. If you feel uncomfortable though, I could take the couch.”
Jungkook shot up at that. “No, no way. You have work, you should sleep in the bed.” The redness creeped into his cheeks again. “I would like… I would like to share, if that’s alright.”
You gave him a smile. “That’s more than alright. Come in, then.”
You were planning to make the most out of this trip.
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
Jimin had memorized everything you had said about checking and treating Hoseok’s injuries. He had memorized the pills he was taking, the salves you used and the times you checked on him during the day. Before you left, he had even looked up all the injuries Hoseok had on Google and read all the information he could find. You had told him Hoseok was well on his way to recovery and he didn’t have to worry much. But he was worried. He was very worried.
He had thought he had been ready, that he could do this. But standing outside their door, second thoughts were smothering him.
What if he did something wrong and he hurt him? What if he made everything worse? If he pressed too hard, if he used the wrong cream, if he wrapped the bandages wrong…
Seokjin would have been much better at this. He took care of them like a parent, he would have been a better choice than Jimin. But Seokjin was the one to cook all their meals, he had enough on his plate. Yoongi could have done it but… He had only glared at you and sneered something that sounded very much like a refusal.
Yoongi…
He hadn’t talked to him since the day he had chased him to the alleyway. The older didn’t leave the room he shared with Hoseok unless it was absolutely necessary. Jimin didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this… This stasis they were trapped in. He had expected someone yelling, accusing. Sharp words, that didn’t match the soft voice he had been used to. There had been none of that. Nothing at all. He wasn’t sure what he preferred.
Hoseok smiled a little at him when he walked into the room. He was sitting up in his bed with his reddish tail in his lap. Yoongi, laying in his own bed, didn’t acknowledge him but his dark eyes were burning Jimin’s skin when he wasn’t looking.
Hoseok patted the bed with the hand that wasn’t in a cast. His smile was smaller than it had been in the morning. Your absence wasn’t affecting only them. Jimin had heard you telling stories to Hoseok, you had done the same with Jungkook. But he had no stories to tell, nothing worth sharing. He hadn’t traveled the world, he didn’t have interesting and famous friends, he didn’t have a job or childhood memories by the beach.
Silence spread, only broken by his apologies every time Hoseok winced. He was holding back for his sake and it made his stomach clench. He left the room like there were hell-hounds on his heels.
The second day you were gone everyone woke up early in the morning, like all the days they had to be up early to see you before leaving for work. You might not be there but his body demanded he wake up and drag his feet upstairs for breakfast. A book was laying cover up on the table. One of the leather-bound classics you kept on the top shelves of the library. Namjoon read it at night before going to sleep.
Seokjin placed a plate of pancakes in front of Jimin. Pancakes were his favorite.
Belly full, he trudged to the second level.
“Good morning,” he greeted, coming through the door.
Hoseok’s fox ears twitched. “Good morning,” he said with a small smile. Yoongi remained silent, standing by the glass wall.
Jimin fetched the medical kit from the bathroom. Everything he would need was in there. “Did you sleep well?” He tried to make conversation. It wasn’t easy when he felt like he could erupt at any moment with Yoongi’s gaze on him. If he hurt Hoseok, Yoongi would never look at him again. Or he could do so much worse. But Jimin had already lost him years ago.
“Yeah,” Hoseok replied, fumbling with the blanket he was sitting on. “I had a weird dream. About being at the lake. There was a statue there and he was talking… It was good, though.”
There was a small Greek style statue on the half-empty shelves of the room, a Kouros you had explained to him. “It must be because of that.” Jimin motioned to the shelves. “There are pieces of ancient Greece all over the house. The first show Y/N directed was about Persephone and Hades, the Greek god of the dead. Greek mythology has a special place for her.”
“She talked to me about Greece a little but she didn’t say anything about the show,” Hoseok said.
Jimin opened the medical kit, remembering watching the episodes one after the next, hanging from every word the characters said. “The show is so good! I couldn’t stop watching it, I didn’t want to get out of the cinema room for anything. The characters were perfect, Persephone was so sweet and kind but she-” He stopped himself, cutting off his rambling. The cream in his hand was getting warm.
Hoseok sat up straighter to help his work. “But what? Why did you stop?”
Jimin startled. He could at least do this, he could speak about the show. He had watched the episodes multiple times and he had asked you so many questions, some of which you hadn’t talked your way around. Hoseok didn’t wince as much as the first time and maybe Jimin go a little carried away, but he didn’t make any mistakes and Hoseok even asked questions and talked with him.
The cat hybrid had to suppress the shivers the eyes on his back sent down his spine.
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
Greek gods, fantasy, romance and mysteries. That’s what made you rich. That’s what got you this huge house and more money than anyone would ever see in their lives. The Castle. Yoongi scoffed. What a pretentious name for an even more pretentious house, but that was the way it worked.
Yoongi disliked rich people on principle. Privileged, arrogant and self-entitled were only a few of the adjectives he would use to describe them. They thought they could control anyone because they had money and money made the world go round. Money could get you everything and that’s what they wanted. Everything. In long coats and designer sunglasses looking for entertainment in the most dubious places, feeding off the struggle of the others. Watching enraptured as others fought for their lives.
All of them were the same. It didn’t matter if they were hiding behind smiling masks or surface philanthropic acts. They were the same. And you were just like them. He refused to believe anything else. Despite how hard it was getting. But every time he was slipping, he would remember the pleads and rough hands. His resolve didn’t crack.
He heard all the stories you told Hoseok. Not that he wanted to but there wasn’t a chance he would leave him alone with you. Most of them were funny and although he didn’t want to admit, there were parts the corners of his mouth had lifted up without his permission. He was grateful for those stories, they made Hoseok forget. One rare time, when you were telling him about a disaster on set that involved three spoons, a maraca and a lost script, Hoseok had giggled and Yoongi’s heart had come close to bursting out.
Every morning and every night you would have a different story for him and it made Yoongi wonder if they were all true or if you were coming up with them on the spot. Not that it mattered, it made Hoseok smile and that was enough. Yoongi had found himself waiting for the times you would come into their room and start talking. You had a way with words.
And now you were gone, leaving them alone in the house, alone with no one watching over them like a guard dog (except that damned wolf hybrid, but that was another case entirely). There were a few things he knew about the world and one of them was that hybrids weren’t left alone in a house that cost more than his handlers would make in their whole lives. He didn’t like surprises and he hated how full of them you were.
Jimin had been the one to take over and you must have been somewhere in Virginia laughing at Yoongi’s expense. The younger looked good, his cheeks were full and there was a certain glow on his soft skin. Jimin had always looked beautiful but now he was ethereal. He couldn’t keep his eyes away.
Hoseok pressed a few buttons on the TV remote and groaned. After Jimin’s excitement about the show in the morning, he had decided he would watch the show. Jimin had showed him how to put it on but Hoseok was having some trouble.
“Give that to me,” Yoongi grumbled, taking the remote. He searched for the title among the options (there were too many of them).
Hoseok pointed at one of the pictures. “That’s it! That’s it! “Land of the Gods”.”
A girl wearing a flower crown was gazing at him from the screen. He clicked on the picture and the synopsis and the episode list appeared. “Are you seriously going to watch that?”
“It must be good if Jimin was so excited about it. He was so excited he got me excited.” A smile stretched his lips. Yoongi was weak.
“What do you know about Greek mythology?”
Hoseok shrugged. “Not much but I don’t think I need to. The show has to be good if it got her where she is now. I’m sure she must have been great at her job to be this successful.”
If anything, there was no doubt you were successful. He could see it everywhere he looked. One night he had been watching the news, Hoseok long asleep, and they had talked about your newest project set to start filming in May. One of the greatest directors of our generation, they had called you, predicting high ratings and large audiences. But success didn’t necessarily mean talent and Yoongi told himself he didn’t care enough to see if you had it.
Contemplating, he sat on the bed by Hoseok’s side. “We should discuss when we are leaving.”
Hoseok’s eyes widened, his tail fluffing up. “Leaving?”
“Yeah, leaving. You’re better, aren’t you? We should be gone before she comes back.” Yoongi threw the remote on the bed.
“Oh.” Hoseok’s fox ears lowered. “I wanted to thank her, it feels wrong to leave like this.”
Yoongi sighed. He could understand Hoseok, he didn’t want to leave either. He wasn’t stupid. Having a warm meal three times a day was more than they could dream of in the streets. It was more than they could dream of when they had a roof over their heads and murky water on their tongues. These few days Yoongi had eaten and slept more than he had in three years but it had to end. It was nothing more than a polished dream. He didn’t want your pity and he wouldn’t have accepted to come here if it hadn’t been for Hoseok.
“I think she would appreciate us leaving more than a thank you,” Yoongi said. “We don’t know how long she will be gone and we have already overstayed our welcome.”
“We… yeah.” Hoseok gave in. “But you should talk to Jimin before we go.” Yoongi stiffened. “I have seen the way you look at him, you know. I heard you that first day. He is the only reason we are here now. I can connect the dots. I don’t ask you about your past because I know it hurts you but I ask you this. Talk to him before we go. Jimin… Jimin looks like a part of your past that shouldn’t hurt this much.”
Yoongi clenched his jaw. Because Jimin was the most painful part of his past. Everything that had happened to him, everything he had been through didn’t hold anything to the pain he felt when thinking about Jimin and his delicate features. Nothing hurt more than the images of that night ingrained in his brain. He didn’t deserve to forget, he didn’t even try.
“I can’t talk to him.”
Hoseok scooted closer and Yoongi reached to steady him. The fox hybrid would laugh at him, he had the all clear to move on his own and he didn’t need help with something as simple as this, but he didn’t push him away. “Why not?
“I just can’t.” Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him. “Hobi, just let it go. Jimin wouldn’t want to talk to me, there is too much you don’t know.”
Hoseok turned his head away. “Yes, because you don’t tell me.”
“Hobi…” Yoongi placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles, there were no bruises there. “What happened, it’s better if you don’t know. I don’t want any more people being haunted by what I did.”
Hoseok’s eyes softened, taking Yoongi’s hands in his own. Every touch from Hoseok was like a brush with the sun. “If you think anything you say could change my opinion of you, you don’t know me at all. You saved me, Yoongi. You saved me when I thought I was done for, when I thought I wouldn’t live to see another day. If you weren’t there, if I didn’t have you…” A shaky breath fell past his lips. He squeezed Yoongi’s hands in his and Yoongi squeezed back. “I would have never gotten out without you. You are all I have.”
Yoongi touched Hoseok’s cheek, nosing against his neck and breathing in the scent of cinnamon. “And you’re all I have.”
The first episode of “Land of the Gods” played as Yoongi laid next to Hoseok with the younger’s head on his chest.
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
The workers kept looking at you like children who had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar and it wasn’t even their fault. They had been following instructions and using the materials the company had sent. The one who had decided to forgo the safety measures because they were too expensive had yet to admit to anything, but a storm was brewing and you would watch until the end. They could say whatever they wanted about you but no one’s life was at risk on your watch.
You hadn’t been alone in the sentiment, most of your co-workers siding with you and calling meetings after meetings on the matter. You had taken it up to yourself to send a lengthy email to the president and were waiting for a reply that wouldn’t take long to come.
In the meantime, you were stuck with damage control. The meticulously designed sets had turned into ruins and rubble. A lot of expensive equipment had been destroyed and the replacements had yet to arrive. The first night you had a short meeting at a building the company was renting and then drove to the set to survey the damage. You had gritted your teeth at the sight of broken blocks like legos. There was nothing more to see.
You came back with heavy limbs and dust on your jeans. The air-conditioning was on and Jungkook was sitting on the couch watching a superhero movie. It wasn’t one you recognized, an older one than those you usually watched. You changed into your pajamas after taking a shower for the third time in a day (your skin barrier was set to be destroyed soon) and joined him in the living room. Neither of you had had dinner so you ordered food from the first place you found on the web. The delivery was fast and you settled on the couch, eating pizza and watching an old Samuel L. Jackson film.
Fortunately, the earthquake hadn’t caused any major disasters but you had heard that a couple of people had been injured. The most damage in the area had been to the TV show sets. That was alright, you could work on that.
Your schedule wasn’t much different from usual. You woke up early, the sun peaking over the horizon and showering the room in its morning glow through the thin curtains. Reaching for your phone, you turned off the alarm before it could start ringing. You woke up earlier but you scheduled it every night regardless of that. Jungkook blinked his eyes open as soon as you moved a little, he was used to waking up early too.
At breakfast it was only the two of you, John and the hotel staff. It was way too early for anyone else. Jungkook didn’t leave the hotel and you spent most of the day outside. The first days were the most crucial and therefore the most busy. Go there, take this, fill this out, talk to him/her. An endless task list. And there were a lot of things you had to figure out yourself.
“You should come with me today,” you said, digging your spoon into the bowl of yogurt. You ate a generous breakfast to propel through the morning.
“T-to work?” Jungkook stuttered, his hand loosening around the spoon. He was eating pancakes with maple syrup and you had a feeling about who he was thinking of.
You rolled the spoon between your fingers. “Well, you don’t have to come to work with me. We could drop you off at a coffee shop or a park if you want to. You can’t stay cooped up in the hotel room all day.”
John nodded in agreement. “I think it’s a good idea. You need some fresh air, staying in three rooms can’t be good for you.”
Jungkook dropped his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “I’m alright here, you don’t have to worry about me. Really.”
“But that’s what I’ll do at work if you stay in here for one more day,” you said. “You can go anywhere, there is a whole city to explore. And if I have any breaks I can call and I’ll come find you.”
Jungkook looked down at the pancakes. “I don’t think I should be out alone.”
“Of course you can. You can wear a collar and no one will say anything. We packed a few didn’t-?” Wearing a collar would protect him from the hybrid services, especially with your name and number engraved in the back of a charm. But you realized it wasn’t hybrid services he was afraid of. A hybrid alone in the streets could be an easy target, Jimin and Jungkook had been together that night and still… But it was broad daylight. “John could come with you,” you offered.
“No, no, he should be with you,” Jungkook protested weakly.
You exchanged a look with John, after years you were perfect at reading each other. “I actually think John would have a much better time with you. The only thing he does with me is follow me around and wait for the day to end. And it’s not like I’m in any danger there, I’m surrounded by a lot of people and some of the places have security so…”
“Or she’s trying to get rid of me,” John said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Not that I’m complaining, waiting outside of those meetings gets very boring very quickly. Who will drive you?”
“It won’t be hard to find someone. I’ll catch a ride with Will, he has plenty of space in his car.” Will was the assistant director and he had been dragged to Virginia with you. When you worked it was rare to find one without the other. He had been with you for a few years and he was your right hand on set, he could get everything you asked done in a matter of seconds and often better than you could have done them yourself.
Satisfied, John finished his sandwich. “It’s settled then, I’ll go with the guy while you run around like a mad woman.”
“It isn’t so much running around today,” you mumbled. In comparison to other days, that was.
Jungkook picked up his fork again, his nose twitching. “Thank you, but I really don’t know where to go.”
You smiled. “That’s the most exciting part. There are so many places you can choose from. John knows the area a little, he knows a few places worth visiting.” John saluted with two fingers on his temple. “Is there something you want to do?”
Jungkook shrugged. “The park maybe? I would like to walk a little if that’s alright.”
“Fine by me,” John said. “Let’s reconnect with Mother Nature a little.”
You shook your head. “As if the sets aren’t in the middle of nowhere. They’re like thirty to forty minutes from the city, I spend most of my day in a car.”
“Stop complaining. It’s partly your fault,” John reminded you, which only caused you to complain more.
Jungkook let out a cute giggle at your bickering. He looked small in his oversized hoodie, it was a gray one this time with design of black swirls interwining and forming a heart. He would have to change before going out. He would melt otherwise.
They dropped you off at the set, having spent most of the thirty minute drive (John was a fast driver, always following the speed limit though) listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind. Jungkook had insisted on coming with when John dropped you off instead of waiting at the hotel for John to come back. He didn’t care that the drive would be more than an hour for him. You stepped out of the car, adjusted your backpack with all the papers and files inside and sent flying kisses to them while John rolled his eyes.
It was one of the good days, everyone was in a relatively good mood, they were listening to you and the conversations about the problems you were facing rolled smoothly. Will had taken over some of the most tiring tasks ignoring your protests so you were left to do most of the talking and the moral support part.
They worked quickly but there was no doubt that the sets wouldn’t be ready for filming to start on the initial date you had set, you would have to rely more on the sets in Los Angeles and film some scenes earlier than planned. Time was precious and you couldn’t waste it sitting around doing nothing.
Will was more than happy to give you a ride back to the city, you had many things to discuss on the way. You hadn’t been at this park before. It wasn’t the one you were considering for filming but it was just as nice. John had texted you where they were and you had typed the address in Will’s GPS. It was way past lunch and you wondered if they hadn’t left the park since the morning. That was a lot of hours spent in a park.
You followed the cobblestone path, tall trees framing the way adorned with green leaves and tiny flowers. Sending a quick message to John asking him about more specific directions, you stopped at a bridge arching over a small river and rested your elbows on the railing waiting for the reply.
You missed home in a way you hadn’t before. Home hadn’t always been Los Angeles, it had taken a long time for you to see it that way. It had been your hometown at first and that would always remain a part of you but it had been years since you had stayed there for more than two weeks. Home had been a suitcase and a vague idea of belonging for the most of your adult life. Being at a new place every few months, often more than that, you traveled and met people, you explored new places and learnt their secrets and culture. Los Angeles was just the base you returned to before you were gone again.
And then you had met Taylor and Zayn and suddenly you had a reason to come back other than necessity. They had become your closest friends and you held a new appreciation for the city because that’s where you spent time with them, strolling through the streets and going to the beach or staying inside watching movies or baking.
And through Zayn you had met Jacob and Los Angeles became more and more to you. The two of you had decided to build your life there together. That was gone now but the City of Angels had sneaked into your heart and made a home for itself there. Yet you hadn’t missed it like this before.
Texts and calls were fine for some time but not nearly enough. Jungkook was withdrawn while you talked to the other hybrids and Jimin’s voice got smaller and smaller every time the youngest refused to speak with him until he stopped trying. Namjoon and Jin tried to comfort him but the only person who could help was the one shutting him out. On top of that, Jimin tended to Hoseok’s wounds, the two hybrids were still at the Castle and you hoped they wouldn’t leave until you got back. You wanted to check in with Hoseok one more time before they were gone, back to the streets.
The streets… Those damn streets. Where Hoseok had been beat up, where Jimin and Jungkook had been attacked, where they didn’t know which day would be their last, starving or being beaten to death. You had done all you could, when they refused any more help, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough.
A whistle made you turn around.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” John called to you.
“Me?” you called back. “How long have you been here? Did you eat lunch?”
“We went to a restaurant nearby, John ordered the best from the menu. I told him to wait for you but he said you would be late,” Jungkook said.
You ruffled his hair and he shuffled closer to you. “Late… I’m not late, I didn’t say I would be back for lunch.”
Jungkook chuckled. “When are you back for lunch?”
You gasped. “You have been spending too much time with John. He’s corrupting you!”
On the other side of the bridge, the path opened up to a large expanse of grass with a few trees sprinkled in. Jungkook had his sketchpad with him and sat down against a tree with pieces of black charcoal, a method he had been experimenting with.
Next to him, you pulled out a notebook from your backpack, it was your personal space where you could write anything and everything. Drawing faint thick lines on the paper, Jungkook told you excitedly about his day with John, who was sitting at a bench talking on the phone with his family.
A shine you hadn’t seen in a while was back in Jungkook’s eyes. You took photos and sent them to the hybrids at home and rolled around in the grass. He pointed at the clouds and what each of them looked like. There was turtle, an elephant and a vase, although you insisted it looked more like an Egyptian cat.
Jungkook came with you to work later and although he was shy and stayed away from everyone else, trailing behind you like a lost puppy, he was smiling. Fascinated, he listened to your conversations about the show and the sets and admired the designs. Your co-workers cooed at the cute bunny hybrid and he flushed hiding behind you.
When the day was over and you were back at the hotel, you realized it was the most fun you’d had since coming to Virginia. Freshly showered with his wet hair sticking to his forehead, Jungkook slipped into the bed next to you.
“Did you have a good time?” you asked. In the quiet of the night it felt wrong for your voice to be louder than a whisper. “You can be honest with me. I won’t take it personally.”
A small smile simmered on Jungkook’s lips as he turned on his side to look at you. In the lights of the city coming through the window, his chocolate brown eyes seemed black. “I had the best of times. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It was nice having you there, it was… different. A good different. You should come again tomorrow, to the sets outside the city this time.”
“I would like that,” he whispered.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Jungkook repeated in a breath.
It would be nice to have him with you. He wasn’t distracting you, on the contrary you were more focused because you knew he was there watching you, you wanted to show him the best of you. This was far from the most exciting part of the process of making a film but it was necessary. Well, it wouldn’t have been necessary if someone hadn’t decided to purposely forget all about the safety measures but you had already dedicated too much of your energy being angry about it.
Once the actual filming had started you would take Jungkook with you and show him the behind the scenes of how a TV show was made. If he was fascinated with this part then he would love filming. The actors were incredible and they had found their connections to the characters, channeling them at the table readings, it would be even better when they were in the costumes on set.
“I liked it,” Jungkook said. “I really liked seeing you work.”
You smiled at the bunny. “You used to see me work every day at the Castle.”
“But it wasn’t the same.” Jungkook laid his head on his hand. “You looked different there,” he said. “You looked powerful, like you could do anything. Everyone looked at you like you had all the answers.”
“It was a good day, I guess. It isn’t always like that. I might look confident and like I have everything under control all the time but that’s far from the truth.”
For all of your fame and the praise you received, you did make mistakes, you got stuck and felt helpless against some problems. Not everyone listened to you and you got into arguments with the executive producers sometimes. And you weren’t always the one who was right.
“Looking confident is half of the job, even when you don’t feel like it. It’s one of those situations where ‘fake it till you make it’ is a requirement. When you want to be heard you have to look and act like you are sure of what you’re doing, especially when you are a young woman at an important position. If you don’t, people begin to doubt you and if they doubt you, they will begin to talk over you and disregard your opinions. That was the first lesson I learnt on this job.”
At seventeen, you had been in charge of directing “Land of the Gods” and it wasn’t all smooth sailing, much less at the beginning. You were young, too young for most of them. You couldn’t direct such a project they said. They questioned your every move and decision, every correction you made and everything you said to the actors during a scene. They didn’t take you seriously until halfway through filming and even then they didn’t hesitate to question your authority. A constant battle of wills.
But it had gotten you here. You couldn’t complain.
“You’ve done so many things,” Jungkook said as if in awe. “All those shows and movies. And they are all so good. You are so talented. I could have never achieved what you have even if I wasn’t…” He left the sentence hanging.
You adjusted your position, laying on your forearm. “I don’t believe that, I think you would be marvelous at whatever you did. You have the dedication and that’s half of the job done. About me…” You let out a small chuckle. “I was very young when I started, I’m still young considering my profession, and I had so many ideas. I still have so many of them.” Or you used to, before the buzz in your brain became just noise. “And I don’t want to wait so long the industry gets tired of me, I have to take advantage of the light as long as it’s on me.”
“I don’t think they can get tired of you, not when your movies and shows are… like that. I couldn’t get tired of them,” Jungkook said. “It’s just- I’m not-” Frustrated, he cut himself off. “You work too much. I’m just… When was the last time you had a break? An actual break without working in any form.”
You opened your mouth to answer and closed it again. It certainly wasn’t this year and it wasn’t last year either. When you had taken a break to buy and decorate the house, you had been answering calls about work when you had been choosing the paints for the walls and writing scripts while you discussed floor plans. Break for you wasn’t a time you didn’t work but rather a time they couldn’t call you to the offices or the set.
“It’s been a while,” you said in the end. “I’ve got a lot of things going on, I don’t really have the time to take a break. I can’t leave them hanging, they rely on me.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t. Not so much.”
But that’s how it has always been for as long as you could remember. You were involved in every single part of the process, in every decision, from the scripts, to casting, to the set and costume design, to the actual filming, the post-production and the editing. Supervising and making sure that everything was right. That was your charm, that was one of the reasons you were one of the most sought-after directors in Hollywood. Each project was a part of yourself. If you let those responsibilities go, what would that mean for you? What would they say about you?
The air-conditioning made a small sound as the room reached the desired temperature. The setting wasn’t too low, a pleasant coolness replacing the stifling heat. The thick walls of the hotel kept the heat of the day trapped inside, something that would be very beneficial in winter but a lot less so in spring nearing summer.
“Anyway, I think we’ll be done in a few days,” you said. “We’ll probably be home by the end of the week. The new plans have been drawn and there is only one more meeting I have to attend and that’s more for appearances’ sake than anything else. The rest is up to the crew here.”
Jungkook’s smile wavered. “So soon? Don’t you have any more work? The people here seemed to need you.”
“They don’t need me, there is nothing more I can offer them. My place right now is in Los Angeles, that’s where they need me.” You nudged his foot with yours, your knees were close enough to touch every time you moved. “But that’s not what you’re nervous about, is it?”
Jungkook shook his head, hiding half of his face in the pillow. “I don’t want to go back.”
“Kookie…” You nudged his foot again until your legs were intertwined underneath the thin sheets. “Staying here won’t help anyone. You have to talk to him.”
Jungkook closed his eyes as if the conversation pained him. “He shouldn’t want to talk to me.”
“But he does. You know he has been asking for you,” you said.
“He stopped.”
“Because you never replied. Doing this, pulling away and ignoring him, you’re hurting him more than whatever you feel guilty for. You didn’t see how sad he was every time you didn’t show up for a meal or when he called for you and you ignored him. You’re hurting him and I know that isn’t what you want so why do you keep doing it?”
A sob clawed out of Jungkook’s throat and he tried to muffle it with his fist. Your eyes widened at the sound, instinctively pulling the younger boy into your arms. He didn’t fight you, holding on to you like you were the only thing keeping his afloat, hiding his face in your neck as the sobs he couldn’t suppress fell from his lips.
“What… What I did to him was h-horibble. I-I took adva-advantage of him,” Jungkook chocked out as his tears dampened your skin. “And I know, I know he’s going to forgive me. But I don’t want him to. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t forgive-” A sob cut him off. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”
You run your hands through his hair, scratching gently at the base of his bunny ears, something that used to calm him down. “Baby… You should let him have that choice, you can’t take it away from him.”
“I can’t forgive myself,” he muttered, desperation and heartbreak seeping into his voice like water through the cracks of a dam until it breaks.
“If Jimin can forgive you then you can work towards forgiving yourself. All I know is that you love each other too much to continue like this.”
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
It was the fifth day you were gone. Seokjin had been keeping track, the equivalent of another line engraved on the wall of a cell. He had been going to sleep and waking up alone in a bed that felt too large for one person. He had added more blankets and stuffed animals decorating embellishing his nest but it did nothing for the feeling of emptiness covering it like a veil.
You called every day and texted them religiously, it was more than he could have expected but much less than what he craved. Jungkook sent photos of the hotel suite and of every place he visited with short captions. Seokjin smiled as his heart constricted.
It was the fifth day you were gone and he was sitting at the large table in the back garden, drinking tea at the time he would have been bringing yours before you had to go back to work. Jin didn’t consider himself a clingy person. He was loyal and protective of the people he loved, he obeyed his past owners and he took care of them. But this was new. It had been five days, the number didn’t change but Jin felt like it had been much longer than that. When his past owners left it wasn’t for long, less than two weeks, he didn’t have the time to miss them. He hadn’t missed them. Two weeks. Five days.
Jungkook would be nagging at him by now, tugging his arm or foot or whatever part of him he could get and if Jin didn’t give in the bunny hybrid would sprawl himself next to the older with his head in his lap. Despite Seokjin warnings about getting splashed with tea or coffee in the face, Jungkook stayed there.
If you were back from work, a rare occurrence, you would insist you all spent that time together. Like a family.
Family. Such a peculiar word. It was one of those words Seokjin couldn’t grasp the real meaning of. He was a hybrid, he didn’t have parents, the one who had given birth to him had delivered him to the scientists earning a large amount of money for her services. His first owners had trained him harsher than a pet and treated him like a servant or a living piece of decor. It didn’t matter if he’d thought of them as his family to feel better for himself, they owned him and they didn’t let him forget.
He didn’t know what having a family felt like. But he guessed it felt a lot like the mornings before you left for work and Jungkook was bickering with Jimin about how much he could eat while Namjoon was smirking into his coffee.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
Seokjin startled, the mug trembling dangerously in his hands. Another hand enveloped his to steady it. “How do you do that? I almost had a heart attack.”
Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “You aren’t the first one to say that, about the heart attack. I’ll try to make more noise next time.”
There was only a tiny bit of tea left at the bottom of the mug so Seokjin placed it on the table to avoid any more surprises that could threaten its survival. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked, looking at the black backpack Namjoon was wearing.
“I’m going for a walk in the forest. Would you like to join me?”
“Like this?” he gestured to his casual attire.
“Maybe you should wear different shoes,” he said referring to the slippers he was wearing.
Seokjin was tempted to say no, sugar gliders might be native to forests but he didn’t have the same ease among trees. But he was tired of being in his own company and something inside him was screaming to go and be with his pack. After all, it was impossible to not give into Namjoon’s dimples.
“Okay, I’ll come with you. Just don’t lead us so far away we won’t be able to come back.”
Namjoon’s smile widened as Jin left to change his shoes. His sneakers were in a box under his bed. He had worn them only once because he preferred wearing his slippers in the house or the gardens. These sneakers were the ones he had on when you had gone to the lake before you had to go back to work and be away for most of the day.
The wolf hybrid was waiting in the back garden for him by the curtain of vines with the purple blooms. The mug was nowhere in sight.
“Ready?” Namjoon asked him.
“Ready,” Seokjin said, not paying any mind to the fluttering in his stomach.
Namjoon pulled the curtain of vines aside, the path stretching ahead. The forest was alive in spring, trees green and tall, creating shade for the small creatures roaming around to hide from the sun. And when a few sun-rays slipped through the spaces between the branches and the leaves, they looked like a touch from the gods.
Namjoon navigated the forest with practiced ease and Seokjin had a feeling the wolf hybrid knew exactly where they were going. He just hoped Jimin wouldn’t look for them while they were gone, but knowing Namjoon he had probably already told Jimin. Or Jimin could call them. Seokjin wasn’t used to having his own phone and often he forgot he had the device.
Staying close to Namjoon, he kept his eyes on the ground. A poor attempt to keep his tripping to the minimal. But the forest was conspiring against him. Roots, stones, sticks, everything he could trip over was in his path.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Namjoon stopped, turning to look at him. He smirked. “It’s a surprise.”
“No, I prefer no surprises,” Jin said. Rock. He stepped over it, avoiding a possible humiliating fall. “Tell me where we’re going. Is it far?”
“Not too far.” Not too far for Namjoon could be totally different from Seokjin’s idea of not too far. “I swear to you we aren’t getting lost today. I know this part of the forest like the back of hand and I have a good sense of direction. See?” He pointed to the direction of a large tree on his right. “That’s north,” he pointed to the opposite direction, “and that-”
Before he could finish, Seokjin had tripped over a protruding root. He hadn’t seen it, being too focused on Namjoon. He let a shriek as he tumbled to the ground, scratching his hands as they came in contact with the ground fist.
Namjoon called his name but he hadn’t been fast enough. He grasped Seokjin’s elbows pulling him up so he was sitting instead of laying face down on the dirt.
“Are you alright?” Namjoon asked, kneeling next to him, and Seokjin felt heat travel to his face and his chest tightening. He had an urge to flee and forget that had happened. Namjoon didn’t give him the chance though. He took his hands in his, turning them over and inspecting the damage. Dirt was clinging on the flesh and Namjoon blew on them to make some it go away. “We need to clean this.” He pulled out a water bottle from his backpack and poured water on his hands. It did sting a little but Seokjin was used to much worse than this.
Thin lines were etched on his palm, none of them bleeding. His hands had taken most of the burnt of the fall. The pride he had been piecing back together hurt more than his body did.
“We should go back,” Namjoon said, letting his hands go. Seokjin mourned the loss then reprimanded himself for it. “Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea.”
“I’m fine,” he said. He didn’t like the frown on Namjoon’s face. “We don’t have to go back. I don’t want to go back.” He cleared his throat. His face, neck and ears felt impossibly hot.
Namjoon regarded him with careful eyes. “Are you sure? Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Really, I’m fine,” he repeated. He put one hand on the ground to steady himself and get back on his feet. It didn’t work very well because as soon as Namjoon saw him moving he was helping him up supporting most of his weight. “It wasn’t painful, more embarrassing than anything else,” Seokjin muttered. Despite the low tone, Namjoon heard him and his face smoothed. “Let’s go. We will never get to that place you want before nightfall at this rate.”
Namjoon chuckled shaking his head. “If you say so.” Seokjin expected him to start walking but instead he laced their fingers together. “Is this okay? I don’t want you falling again. If you trip again I’ll keep you up or at least we’ll fall together.”
Seokjin huffed out a laugh, lightheaded. Namjoon wasn’t distant but he wasn’t open with his affection like Jimin or Jungkook or even you and feeling his hand in his had ignited something inside him he was struggling to bury.
They held hands all the way to the secret destination. Seokjin tripped a couple more times, the rocks and the roots were still there and Namjoon was too distracting, but he kept his balance. Namjoon held on his hand tighter whenever he lost his footing and he allowed himself to consider it for a moment before banishing the idea.
The walk wasn’t too long and as the trees thinned out a little, a few large rocks emerged from the ground. They had climbed higher than the level of the house, the forest and the lake stretching under them. On the side the Castle peeked between the trees and the road leading to the city.
Namjoon helped him up the rock while he complained for the sake of it. They sat down to rest and Namjoon offered him the bottle of water he had used before, plenty of water was left inside. Seokjin insisted they shared it, he had already used half of it on him anyway.
“You like being outside so much, you have walked through most of the forest. You go on walks every day. Why don’t you go out with Y/N? Or around the neighborhood?” he asked. Namjoon wasn’t someone who could be contained in a house, he needed to be outside, and the forest looked too small for him.
Namjoon crossed his hands over his bent knee. “Being in the forest is easier. I can’t explain it but it’s familiar territory. Outside the forest, outside the house, that’s different. I know the streets of Los Angeles, I’ve spent more time on them than I would have liked. And now things are different but those streets are the same. I don’t think I’m ready to go back there alone.”
Seokjin’s heart constricted at the reminder of what the three hybrids he held so dearly had been through. He was spoiled, he couldn’t have survived a life in the streets. But if he was with them… If he was with them maybe it would would have been worth it.
It was a dangerous world for lone hybrids, people were eager to take advantage of them and hybrid services were always lurking in large cities like Los Angeles. Going outside alone could be an invitation for harassment from a few sick people who thought they were entitled to hybrids’ lives because humans created them, who thought they were lesser. Seokjin hadn’t been allowed to be alone outside, his owners believed it was indecent and disrespectful for hybrids to walk alone or stay alone.
“Do you want to go outside in the city?” Namjoon asked.
Seokjin hugged his knees. “I wouldn’t know where to go or what to do. I’ve never been out alone.”
Namjoon nodded. “That’s alright. It was nice being out for Spring Cleaning, I saw the city in a different light.”
Seokjin smiled, for him it hadn’t been only the city he had seen in a different light. “I would like to go out one day.”
“I would like that too,” Namjoon said softly.
But Seokjin didn’t think of going alone. He thought of being with Namjoon holding his hand so they wouldn’t lose each other or an excited Jungkook hopping around with Jimin chasing him.
Namjoon’s phone beeped with a message and he pulled it out of his backpack to read it. A smile spread on his face at whatever he was seeing. Seokjin wanted to lean closer and look at what was making him smile but he held himself back. There were only three people it could be from.
“Jungkook is playing her assistant,” Namjoon said, turning the screen so Seokjin could take a look at the photo. Jungkook was looking to the side, probably at someone talking to him, carrying two folders and a few loose papers. Seokjin’s heart softened at the sight, Jungkook looked content there. Excited and a little confused.
Seokjin took the phone in his hands. “I’m sure he insisted on carrying them for her. Doesn’t she have an assistant?”
Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, Will. But I’m not sure he’s that kind of assistant.”
“Maybe she should keep Jungkook on set, he could carry anything she wanted,” he joked. Their bunny could pick up all of them without getting tired, Seokjin had been his victim enough times to know that.
Jungkook had been doing better, his messages were more frequent and he talked more on the phone. He had been doing better but Seokjin was missing him a lot. But he couldn’t be selfish with this, going away had been good for him and if it hurt a little that he needed to be away from them, Seokjin didn’t utter a word. He had heard him sniffling at night, covering his mouth to muffle the sounds. Seokjin didn’t know how to comfort him so he just held him tighter.
Namjoon sighed, taking his phone back and hiding it in the backpack. He sighed. “Jimin is hiding away again. He barely spoke to me before locking himself in the cinema room. I don’t understand what is going on between them. Jungkook had to travel to the other side of the States to get away. I can’t get a word about what happened from either of them. Jungkook says he did something horrible to him and Jimin doesn’t want to say anything about it. And every time Jungkook pulls back from him I can see how much it hurts them both and I can’t do anything about it.”
“They don’t want us to do anything about it but they need us next to them,” Seokjin said, looking ahead at the sun slowly descending in the sky.
Namjoon let the silence stretch before speaking, “I’m grateful you’re with us, that you chose to stay. I don’t like to think about how it would have been without you.”
Seokjin turned his head away. “I didn’t do anything special. I am not that important.”
A hand touched his cheek, leading him gently until he was face to face with Namjoon looking into his hazel, almost golden, eyes. “Listen to me when I say this; you are important to us. You are pack and your place is with us here. I’ll be honest, I was weary at first but you fit right in like you were always meant to be with us. You belong with us and we’ll never let you go or get tired of you. You give so much without even realizing it.” His thumb rubbed small circles on his skin leaving burning trails behind. A heavy cloud had covered everything around him and all he could see was hazel eyes. “All I ask you is to let us take care of you, too.”
And before his doubts could stop him he surged forward. Namjoon caught him in his arms, cradling the oldest’s neck as he hid his face in his neck breathing in his scent. Time was meaningless there.
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
You were taking a short break. John had delivered your second cup of coffee for the day and a smoothie for Jungkook who disliked the bitter taste of coffee with passion. It was a mostly practical day that didn’t require a lot of moving around. You had been meeting up with people since the crack of dawn and discussing the best ways to cover up the disaster in a way that wouldn’t turn the public against the show or the studios. So far, you had been holding off any reporters from including the overlooked safety measures when publishing the news about the collapsed sets.
After being inside all day, you had decided to take a stroll around the block. Jungkook was walking next to you sipping his smoothie. He was wearing a simple black chocker with a silver charm.
He was telling you about a video he had seen on YouTube when your phone started ringing. Your nickname for Taylor was displayed across the screen with a photo of her pulling out a tray of cookies from the over.
“Hey, Tay,” you said.
“I called at the right time, didn’t I?”
“Just the perfect time, I have around twenty minutes before I have to go back. Work has been kicking my ass.”
Taylor laughed. “I’m sure you’ve been kicking its ass too. And better.”
You had told her around what time you would be taking your break. You hadn’t talked on the phone since coming to Virginia and you had missed her voice.
You stopped at a bench and Jungkook pulled out his phone. You felt a little bad for talking on the phone when it was the two of you but you had really missed Taylor and it wouldn’t take long anyway. She had been busy with Astrid, getting to know her better and helping her adapt to the new environment. When you had visited the hybrid had looked enamored with Taylor, you knew your friend would be amazing at taking care of a hybrid.
The conversation soon turned to you but you didn’t have much to share. Work was the same regardless the disaster but Taylor was more interested in other things.
“It has been almost a year since you and Jacob broke up. Don’t you have your sight on anyone? Any flirts? It isn’t like you lost the one and only,” she said.
Jacob had been far from the one and only. And when she asked, your mind went to dangerous places.
“Just because you found your man doesn’t mean we are all that lucky,” you said. “And how am I supposed to find anyone? I’m too busy.” From the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook turning to look at you with an unreadable expression.
Taylor continued, “Aren’t there any cute boys on set? At work? There has to be someone. Don’t bury yourself in work and forget to live. I’m not saying you need a man to be happy or complete, but don’t you miss going on dates? Getting to know someone like that?”
The answer came to you unbidden but it wasn’t something you were ready to say. “Maybe after the TV show, for now I really have to focus. After that is done and I don’t have to worry about anymore earthquakes, I’ll see where I’ll end up.”
You knew Taylor cared for you and she worried about how deep you threw yourself into work. Maybe there was also a small part that was still uncertain about the way you and Jacob had broken off things and the way you had avoided the topic like the plague for the first months. Like you and Jacob had never happened. But looking at boys and dating had been the last thing on your mind.
Ending the call with Taylor promising to text her when you got off work, you patted the small of Jungkook’s back. It was time to walk back. The smoothie was half-finished, the way it had been before, like he hadn’t taken a sip since sitting down.
You asked him if there was something wrong but he replied that everything was alright. It didn’t look like that was the case. He stayed close to you all day, more clingy than he had been the whole time you had been in Virginia, wary of the men who talked to you.
♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩
The blue sky and fluffy clouds reflected on the lake, a huge mirror creating another sky on its surface, a more vibrant but precise copy. No boats cut through the water, it was like there was a part of the sky that had made its home on the ground. Trees extended on every side of the lake, so many of them one next to the other with no end in sight.
The grass tickled Jimin’s palms swaying in the gentle wind. He breathed in the fresh morning.
“One day we’ll go on a boat ride.” Jungkook was sitting next to him, his long bangs falling at the sides of his face. “We’ll see every part of the lake, not just this. We’ll go everywhere.”
Flowers bloomed all around them, white and blue petunias, chrysanthemums and lilies. Jimin wanted to cut the most beautiful one and tuck it behind Jungkook’s ear. He turned to tell him but hands were holding the back of his neck and lips devouring his. He gripped Jungkook’s arms to steady himself from the force of the kiss. The sweet aroma of the flowers filled him up, engulfing every part of his being, the deepest crevices and the smallest of cracks.
Jungkook pushed him back so he was laying on the grass and Jimin let him, too drunk off the flowers and soft lips. Touches on his cheeks and his sides, caresses under his shirt. He was burning.
It didn’t take long for the panic to set in. With weak arms, he pushed Jungkook away. The air wouldn’t reach his lungs. The scent of the flowers turned stale and bitter.
“We can’t,” he tried to say but his voice wasn’t coming out right, sticking in his throat and refusing to flow.
Jungkook pulled back. His eyes were darker than before. “Is this it? Am I too common for his highness? You didn’t have any reservations about the panther hybrid, did you? Are you attracted to power, Jiminie? Or do you open your legs only for him?”
There were sharp blades piercing Jimin’s chest. How did he know? Who had told him? No one was supposed to know.
Two figures were hiding between the trees in the darkness the day couldn’t chase away. Your hands were crossed in front of your chest and Yoongi was standing right behind you.
Jimin took a step back colliding with the fountain at the entrance of the Castle. The house was looming over him, ominous and tall as if it could touch the sky. His clothes were torn, dirt and blood staining them. They were the clothes he had been wearing the day you had found them.
“I’m sorry but you can’t stay here anymore,” you said. You knew what he had done, you knew his dirty secret and he was paying for it again. He would be paying for it his whole life. A pain so powerful he felt like he was dying bloomed in his chest as rivers of tears rolled down his cheeks. His knees were weak. He couldn’t stand.
He searched in the faces of his pack, of the people he loved so much he thought his heart would burst. Nothing but sneers and gazes of pity. Whore, they whispered. Slut. Worthless.
Jimin crumbled to his knees. He was dying. He was sure he was dying. Spasms wrecked his body as he sobbed. He had nowhere to go, he had no one but them. He couldn’t live without them.
And when he thought it was over, that it was the last breath he was taking. He opened his eyes. His chest was heaving, his heart beating like a wild animal scratching at the bars of its cage. He was in their room, the glass wall looking out at the forest. Only the moonlight fought the darkness.
The sheets were restricting him and pushing him down, tangled around his body. Frantic movements born out of desperation took over his body and he stumbled over the edge of the bed, falling hard on the floor with the sheets wrapped around his legs.
And it overflowed.
The sobs and tears. He pulled at his hair and scratched his skin. They couldn’t know. No, they could never know. You would never look at him the same way. He would lose the only home he has ever known.
He wanted to scream. Scream until his lungs were empty and his body stopped shaking. Scream until he didn’t feel worthless and used like an old toy forgotten in a corner of the attic.
There were arms around him, prying his hands away from his hair and skin. He tried to pull away but they only held tighter until he gave in and sunk into their warmth. Blood was rushing to his ears and he only made out his name falling from the other person’s lips. He rocked in his arms, cursing himself and the world. Weak. He was so weak.
Fucking pathetic.
He gripped the hands holding him. He focused on the voice speaking although he couldn’t understand what it was saying. He choked on the bile in his throat, his body shaking with his sobs.
“Jiminie, breath. Just breath,” the voice said and Jimin tried to listen to it. He did. But it felt like he hadn’t been able to breath for a while. “Just like this. Breath with me. That’s right, like this. Breath. You’re doing so well, Minie.”
Spent, Jimin fell on the chest behind him, shaky breaths leaving his lips. One of the hands rubbed his stomach over his nightshirt.
“There. You’re alright. You’re alright.”
Jimin swallowed with difficulty down his scratchy throat. “Joonie?”
“I’m here. I’m here, Minie,” the other said. Jimin didn’t have the energy to look at him, laying his head on the older’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”
His breathing stuttered. Another tear escaping from his eyes, he thought he’d run out of them. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” Namjoon’s voice was unsteady and it hurt Jimin knowing he had been the cause of it. “You’re alright. I’m always here for you but I can’t protect you from your head.”
Jimin’s tail wrapped around one of Namjoon’s arms as Jimin sniffled. “I don’t want to be alone. Please, please don’t let me go. Don’t make me leave.”
“Never. I’ll never leave you. We’ll never leave you. I’d do anything in this world to keep you safe.” Namjoon caressed his arm, moving upwards and pressing his fingers against Jimin’s left scent gland. Jimin’s whole body trembled, shivers overtaking him. Namjoon rubbed his nose against the other side of his neck, leaving kisses behind. Purring, Jimin arched his neck.
“I love you,” Jimin whispered, unable to stop the tears from falling.
Namjoon kissed over his scent gland and Jimin felt it everywhere. “I love you, Minie. So much.”
#bts#bts hybrid au#btscreatorscorner#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jimin x reader#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#taehyung x reader#poly!bts x reader#poly!bts#bts fanfic#jikook#sope#bts scenarios#bts angst#bts fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
His Greatest Mistake
Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn! Reader
Category: Angst with a dash of fluff
Includes: Sad Spencer, brief mention of injury, implied emotional cheating
Word Count: 1.4k (oops)
A/N: This was requested by @ssa-m-187 based on the song Be My Mistake by The 1975! Thank you so much for the request, this one was a challenge in the best way and I loved every second of writing it ♡
Masterlist | Ash’s 500 Bash
It was never supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be him taking engagement photos with you, him sending save the dates with you, him sitting by your side and planning the wedding you had always imagined.
Instead, it was him clutching the picture he was so obviously absent from to his chest in the dim light of his apartment.
He knew something had happened the second he walked into the bullpen that morning. The room was quiet, any and all previous conversation halting the moment he locked eyes with Penelope across the way.
And he knew. When her eyes shifted towards the floor and her breath stuttered in her throat he knew in his soul that it had to do with you.
But he never imagined this.
She dropped the picture into his hands with murmured words of comfort, leaving him with the promise that she would be in her office alongside a cup of coffee with his name on it if he needed to talk.
And as she walked away, he turned the picture over and felt his heart break into a thousand fragments with no hopes of ever being repaired.
The phrase ‘save the date!’ glared at Spencer from the top of the cardstock, but nothing compared to the feeling of ice in his veins at the sight of your smile.
It was a smile he hadn’t seen in person in 3 years, 4 months, and 12 days, but it still danced through the forefront of his brain each night he went to sleep and each morning he awoke next to his greatest mistake.
And as he sat in his apartment after a day of comforting glances laced with pity thrown at him from each direction he couldn’t help but relish on the what ifs.
What if he had loved you better?
What if he had fought harder?
What if he called you instead of her that night?
Loving you was the easiest and yet the most courageous thing he’d ever done. With you, casual touches came quicker, tough conversations came easier, confessions of love flowed smoother.
Not like with her.
He had met you exactly 6 years, 5 months, and 18 days ago in the most cliche of ways- when he spilled his coffee on your shirt as you were reaching around him for your own drink.
Stuttered apologies somehow turned into telling stories over cups of freshly brewed coffee and before either of you knew it he was leaving the shop with your number in his phone and plans to see you again on Saturday at your favorite museum.
And then Saturday brought along the promise of more dates which turned into spending nights entangled under sheets and mornings filled with apartment hunting before finally signing the papers for a place of your own.
And for 3 years, 1 month, and 6 days it was bliss.
At least that’s what he liked to tell himself.
The bricks that had surrounded his heart were entirely non-existent when it came to you. You held the key to the inner workings of his heart, and you would safeguard it with your life if you were asked.
And he held the key to yours too, but it turns out that only meant so much.
The majority of your relationship was simplicity in the sweetest form. It was the feel of your favorite sweater, the smell of your favorite candle, the taste of your go to comfort beverage.
It was simple. And yet, it was everything.
He longed for the moments a case would end and he could fall into your arms with the promise of drifting to sleep with the feel of your fingers mindlessly spelling ‘I love you’ along his back. Time off of work was spent cuddled together on the couch, letting the sounds of whatever was playing on the television serve as the background noise for whatever silly debate the two of you had fallen into.
It was simple. But somewhere along the way the simplicity gave way to complications.
2 years, 9 months, and 18 days into your relationship he found himself enthralled by a guest speaker at your favorite library. You had to work late so you weren’t able to come, but at the moment he found himself grateful for that because it meant more time with her.
It meant more time to bounce theories off of her, more time to be absolutely captivated by her genius.
It also meant more time for them to trade phone numbers.
And later that night as he told you all about the speech and the amazing lecturer he had met you were ecstatic that the lecture turned out even better than he had hoped.
That ecstatic feeling probably would have dimmed if you knew about the phone number burning a hole in his pocket though.
As the weeks flew by he found himself calling her more and more. It was never of a romantic nature, always related to one theory or another, but it was enough to draw his attention away from you.
And as the distance between you and him grew, and grew, and grew, one of you was sitting at home desperately thinking of ways to fix it while the other was making up excuses about misplaced paperwork keeping him at work while the low battery tone of his phone chimed away in his pocket.
And on the 1,132nd day the greatest love Spencer ever knew crumbled to the ground.
The case was bad. So bad, in fact, that he found himself in a hospital bed for a few days after a close call with an unsub.
But as much as everyone told him to call you, you weren’t the one he longed to talk to.
As visiting hours ended and the team left his bedside to get some well-needed rest, he found himself glued to his phone talking to her.
And while her voice was what he so desperately wanted to hear, he couldn’t help the pang in his gut every time he ignored one of your calls as yours was the voice he so desperately needed to hear.
On the plane ride home, he thought of all the ways he could explain the delayed homecoming to you, all the ways he could hide the wounds gracing his chest from you for the next few weeks.
But, he should’ve known someone would have told you.
He came home to your suitcases packed while you sat in the sea of luggage against the sofa you had picked out together in the blissful beginning of your relationship.
Oh, how he longed to be back there now.
He wanted you to scream, to storm out, to do anything that would lessen the guilt that maliciously tore at his soul.
But instead, you were calm, albeit heartbroken. You explained you had a feeling something was going on, but the fact that he had gotten hurt and didn’t even tell you proved it. You told him it was okay, that you wished him all the best, and then you left. With a tear running down your face but your posture holding all the grace in the world.
And somehow, your calm nature in the midst of his internal storm made it even worse.
He needed to do something, anything, to get out of the apartment that was a living, breathing museum dedicated to your love.
He should’ve chased after you. But instead, he went to her.
And with that decision, his future was set in stone.
No matter how riveting his conversations were with her, they didn’t hold a candle to the debates he had with you. With you, cuddles before bed were an honored tradition; with her, it was custom to stare at the wall and keep his hands to himself until he fell asleep to the thought of your smile.
He saw you in everything. In the bouquet she placed on the table (they were your favorite flowers), in the body wash she used (it was your least favorite scent- and because of that it was his least favorite, too), in the book she kept next to her bed (it was the book he used to read to you on nights you couldn’t sleep).
You were everywhere and nowhere all at once.
And now, as she called him to bed and he stuffed your photo in between the pages of the first book he could reach he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had made a terrible mistake.
A mistake that he was destined to fall asleep next to that night, wishing that instead of her, it was you.
***
Link to join my taglist ♡
Permanent Taglist: @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @shadyladyperfection @homoose
Spencer Taglist: @averyhotchner @muffin-cup
#Spencer Reid x reader#Spencer Reid x you#Spencer Reid#Spencer Reid x y/n#Spencer Reid imagine#Spencer Reid self insert#Spencer Reid fanfic#Spencer Reid angst#spencer reid x gn!reader#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds imagine#ash’s 500 bash 💕#ash writes#queue’d
434 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
feitansluver
portor pleaser!
top5internetsourcesuniversi-blog
Top 5 Internet sources university students for writing
mugen-monogatari
「 Mako 」
magneticx-blog
Beautiful Liar.;