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merakiui · 4 months

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100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus

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lxclerc · 5 months

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢 ─ 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... in which karma finally bites you in the ass faceclaim... christina nadin pairing... charles leclerc x reader warning... none so far. petty charles and petty reader

note... i need everyone to pretend like all the text messages are in french. also no charles yet but lots of charles in the next part.

series masterlist main masterlist

part one → current part (part two) → part three

charles leclerc has never been on your podcast. it isn’t for the lack of trying per se but rather out of your own sheer stubbornness and need to protect your pride. chasing red, the motorsport podcast you’d built from the ground up, consists of you and your best friend emma. months ago, emma had emailed charles inviting him as a guest with emma alone as the host. it’s already unusual in itself considering you’re in every episode, but charles had replied to the email with a sort of snarkiness you aren’t used to but definitely not surprised to hear.

dear emma,

if y/n wants me as a guest then she can contact me herself. thank you. sincerely, charles

it had been short and to the point and you’d rolled your eyes when you read it. if charles wanted to be petty then you’re certainly not about to appear on his doorstep begging him to come on your show. charles seems to forget that he’s gotten his pettiness from you.

still, after that particularly irritating email, emma had been badgering you to explain what had happened. charles leclerc is the nice guy after all. who else would let ferrari fuck them over as much and still scream forza ferrari at the top of his lungs? according to emma, it’s simply impossible for charles to respond in such a way without some hidden history between the two of you.

and she wouldn’t be wrong but you’d been able to keep that under wraps pretty well. you’ve kept your past right where it belongs – in the past and in your opinion, there’s simply no need to dig up old bones. of course, up until now as you watched with furrowed brows as your name trended on twitter. it seems no matter how deep you bury old bones, it comes back and haunts you – or in your case, bites you in the ass.

“you dated him!” you winced at emma’s sharp tone. you already feel a headache coming in – you hadn’t expected to be shoved down memory lane at a random tuesday if you’re being completely honest and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be dealing with it.

“keep your voice down,” you say, putting your phone down and allowing yourself a sip of your coffee as you try to ignore emma’s incredulous looks.

“you dated him?” she says again, in a sarcastic whisper this time that made you roll your eyes. you hated her sometimes. you love her of course, but you really hate her sometimes.

and you hate whichever idiot got ahold of those photos. everyone seems to have so much to say but they can’t seem to comprehend that the charles and y/n in those photos aren’t the same charles and y/n now. you’re both grown now, no longer little kids fueled only with dreams and ambitions. now you’re fueled entirely by coffee and the will to not stalk his social media.

you’re over charles leclerc. you’re so over him that you spend all your time applauding yourself just how over him you are. of course, you’ve seen charles around after the break up. you both live in monaco after all. it’s impossible not to accidentally pass by each other walking to the grocery store or be at the same restaurant or the same party. you’ve seen him around the paddock multiple times but neither of you say anything. sometimes your eyes meet and the familiarity in each other is difficult to ignore but mostly, you just walk past each other as though you’re strangers, as if you hadn’t spent your childhood memorizing the patterns in his eyes.

you groaned at where your mind went. this is the last thing you want to be thinking – or talking – about at eight in the morning. you blame twitter and emma entirely for your predicament. it doesn’t help that you share an apartment with her too.

“no comment,” you say finally at her expectant face.

her little evil grin terrifies you as he picks up a stack of papers from the coffee table, placing it in front of you. “i’d suggest clearing the air between the two of you before thursday because you’re spending vegas with ferrari.”

you almost spit your coffee as you grabbed the paper and double checked. unfortunately, there it is in plain sight, your sponsor team right next to ferrari. the document contains your schedule for vegas as an F1 presenter. you’ve been lucky enough not to be assigned to ferrari since you’ve been assigned the job three months ago. but alas, all your bad karma seems to have finally caught up with you today as you read through your itinerary, the first words being an ice breaker game with carlos sainz and charles leclerc proceeding with a hot lap with one of the drivers on friday.

oh jesus christ, you’re screwed.

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername vegas ready and sporting red for the weekend!

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emmauser very excited for the weekend

⤷ yourusername 🖕🏻

⤷ username emma what do you know

username god have answered all my prayers and forced y/n and charles to finally interact

username watching the childhood lovers to strangers, forced proximity trope in real time

⤷ username i am so invested actually

username her and charles are my roman empire

⤷ username they have consumed every nook and cranny of my feeble brain im afraid

username now what in the booktok is going on

taglist: @nhlfs @livinglifethroughfanfic @sage-butterflyy @chimchimjiminie16 @thatgirlmj @hiraethrhapsody @roseseraj @celestialams @1655clean @minkyungseokie @ssararuffoni @f1verse @honethatty12 @formulas-bitch @nmw-am @lorarri @erikasurfer @thievin-stealing @glow-ish @raevyng @scenesofobx @coffeehurricanes

#formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 one shot #charles leclerc fluff #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 one shot #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smau #smau #social media #formula 1 smau

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forusomimiya · 9 months

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HQ captains reacting to you walking semi-naked with his team jersey

𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘛𝘦𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘰, 𝘚𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪, 𝘒𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘰 𝘉𝘰𝘬𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘸/ 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (all of them timeskip!) 𝘊𝘞: 𝘛𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 (?) 𝘈.𝘕.: 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 ‘𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 4 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 🦅🐍👑😜

𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 Despite no longer being involved in the world of volleyball, Kuroo still keeps his uniform as if it were a treasure. That uniform is not just a simple piece of clothing, in that uniform there are memories, family, victories… and he keeps it as his most precious object.

So precious that, when you get home and see that you have nothing to wear, you decide to surprise him by wearing it. And that's how you get it when he comes home after a long day at work.

"Oh wow" he says looking at you as he sets his keys in the foyer and his briefcase on the floor. "You look so pretty".

"Ya think?" You pinch the bottom of your shirt and stretch it out as if it were a dress, twirling on yourself. He gives you a smirk, examining your bare legs.

"Yep, just ´cause you're the one wearing it" he walks to the couch and once seated, sighs tiredly, turning to look at you. You know something has gone through his head. A couple of pats on the couch urge you to sit next to him, but you prefer to climb into his lap and entwine your fingers behind the back of his neck. His hands soon wrap around your waist.

"Thank you for the compliment" so innocent, you deposit a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"You're welcome, though…I think you'd look better without it" his hands come in direct contact with your skin, running up your ribs before coming to brush the sides of your tits, up your neck with his lips.

"Oh yeah?" you ask wryly. "Then you'll have to take it me off if you want to enjoy the view" you have plenty of time to jump up from the couch and rush out to his office, to wait for a smiling Kuroo to come through the door while along the way he undoes a couple of buttons on his shirt and rolls up his sleeves. A fucking sexy businessman.

Only 15 minutes later he had you begging, lying on the cold table, making a mess of your ass while he teased your pussy with his fingers, whimpering in pain and pleasure as you swooned listening to all the compliments he had in store for you since he saw you with his shirt on.

𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 "Daichiii…" you call from across the hall, peeking your head around the door frame, watching your husband cook. Daichi turns slightly but ignores you. "I can't see you now honey, come and show me" so you walked tiptoe to his side, where you wait for him to turn to look at you, leaning on the kitchen counter. He gives you a sidelong glance and when he notices what you're wearing, he completely disregards his task. "What a surprise" he laughs. "Where did ya get it?" "It was stored in one of those old boxes in the storage room" Daichi disappears, only his gaze is left riveted on you, licking his lip unconsciously under lewd thoughts. "Earth calling Daichi, are you listening to me?" you ask snapping your fingers in front of his face. The only movement he makes is to touch a button on the plate, the one you can assume makes the fire go out, before you see yourself lifted into his arms, walking with you to the bedroom, where he drops you on the bed and lets you know his thoughts as he goes to the closet and rummages through the drawers. "Oh… I know what you want to play at" "Oh yeah?" he asks undoing his shirt and exposing his toned abs. You can't help but think he's going to give you a striptease right there, because that's how all the strippers in the movies start, bare-chested and in dark jeans. But your world falls apart when from behind his pants pocket he pulls out his work handcuffs. "I'll bet by your expression it wasn't what you imagined" A groan escapes you as he takes both wrists, raising them high above your head, positioning himself behind your legs, which are you don't know how, raised. This was the fucking Daichi you married. "If your intention was to turn me on, it worked. Now be a good girl, or..." whip your ass in warning "I don't promise to be a good cop".

𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 "Where do you want to go for lunch tomorrow?" as if it were nothing, you stroll semi-naked in front of your boyfriend, who had long since stopped paying attention to the book in his hands, forcing him to look at you, no, to analyze you as you paced back and forth across the room. "Kotaro" you call him, scowling. "I'm sorry honey, I was so stunned looking at you I think I cum in my pants." "KOTARO!" but your temper soon deflates and you burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, it looks really good on you, better than me" you blush and steal a kiss for the compliment. "Do you think I would have made a good captain?" "I don't think you're good at that whole leadership and taking control thing" your shocked face makes him chew and swallow his words back. "I said I think!" "Well, since you've questioned it, I think it's a good time to show you that I can do it" Bokuto proclaims victoriously when his provocation towards you makes him manage to get you on top of him, unable to help but smile at the sight of your tits moving easily under his shirt. All he needs to do is lick his lips. "Let's be honest. If you're going to fuck me, let me at least take those tits honey. I can't stop drooling thinking about them" you can't say no to him, because one of the good things about Bokuto in sex, is that just by sucking your tits, he would make you cum time after time. "Well… Let me see those pretty lips wrapped around them then" just one command and Bokuto would already be under your shirt sucking your tits, with a noticeable erection that you would soon take between your hands, milking him.

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shepherdsheart · 8 months

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Forgotten Child

DpxDc

Bruce would admit that he wasn’t near a perfect man. In all truth he was far from it really.

He had made hundreds of mistakes through his life and he had hoped he had learned something from them all but there was one mistake that stood out more than anything else.

The box in his hands had been proof of such, everything in it entailed just how badly he had failed. Failed as a man, failed as a person but most of all how he failed as a father.

It all started a year before he welcomed Dick into his life. It was one of his biggest regrets but also one of his biggest blessings as he stared at the new born baby boy in his arms. Soft blue wrapped around the little boy like tight arms as he held the sleeping baby close.

He had drilled that moment into his memories as he held the soft little bundle. It would be his first and his last memory of the boy in his arms. He knew the moment the pregnancy was announced that he wouldn’t be able to keep the babe. His life as Batman was to dangerous for a baby and as such he had made the decision to hand his baby to someone else.

Nobody but a trusted few would ever know of the young babe, no one would know Batman or Bruce Wayne had a son.

It had taken time and research but he had picked the perfect family. They would take care of his little star, he would be their son and not his. He would grow up safe and protect as Daniel Thomas Marshal.

Or at least he thought so.

Bruce didn’t give up contact with Daniel, each year he would send the boy anonymous gifts for his birthday and the holidays just as the elusive Uncle B. And as the boy grew they often exchanged letters.

His boy was smart, the top of his class and he was ohh so brilliant. He often drew pictures for Bruce where then man would store each with the letters in a box for sage keeping. Things had gone that way for years and Danny and he talked about many things. Bruce talked about life and Danny liked to talk about stars and the things he learned at school.

It had all been going so well till it all fell apart.

Jason had died and Bruce fell apart, losing himself in his grief for his lost child. Somewhere along the line after Jason’s death Bruce had stopped responding to the letters young Danny sent. He couldn’t bear to read them while he grieved Jason and at one point he must have told Alfred to just store them in Daniels letter box in instead of bringing them to him.

Somehow he had forgotten, he had forgotten the letters of messy cursive and doodles of stars and galaxy’s. Stories of school or life in the farm where he was being raised out in Wisconsin.

It was only because of his children that he remembered. A normal day of roughhousing and being shooed away by Alfred to take their antics elsewhere while he cleaned.

The kids had decided to take their games to the halls between there room and Damian and Jason to pick a locked door of a spare room that was never used and always locked. The others would never think to check the room as it was never opened.

The boys weren’t expecting to find a old but well cared for nursery. The walls a soft blue, the The ceilings dark blue with plastic stars in the patters of constellations. A crib in one corner with space themed decor and a small bed in the middle of the room obviously for when the crib was outgrown.

On the far wall was multiple shelves with a few old toys along with books and many other small items. Then there were the picture frames scattered about the shelves and other furniture in the room. All had one thing in common, a boy with soft black hair and ice blue eyes but each photo the boy was more grown.

At first they thought it was Bruce but the photos were to new and Bruce didn’t have ice blue eyes. The boy was in a picture with his parents, a blond woman with blue eyes and a Black haired man with green eyes. Those weren’t Bruce’s parents so who were they and who was the child that was in each photo.

Before they could snoop any further the door had been opened and a Stern Alfred shooed them away.

It didn’t take long for the boys to question Bruce about the room he had long ago forgotten about. Bruce didn’t say a word as he had rushed over to the room that he had long sense abandoned before he closed himself inside.

There Bruce had cried, he had forgotten one of his children and he cried as he looked at the photos.

He had spent hours in that room before a wooden box to the side on a Dresser caught his attention. He knew exactly what that box contained and he dreaded opening it.

When he found the courage to lift the lid he was greeted by hundreds of letters. A portion opened but most were untouched, never opened to be read.

He’d spend the next few weeks slowly going through the letters. Danny wasn’t sure why he hadn’t responded but the boy wrote that even though he didn’t get a response he hoped the letters were reaching him.

He learned soon after Jason’s death when Danny was 10 that the Marshals had died leaving Danny to the State only to be adopted by a family called the Fentons a year later.

After that Danny’s letters became less detailed and more vague about his life but instead asking questions Bruce would never answer. The boy avoided talking about his home life and manly talked about school and his 2 new friends or he’d ask about Bruce, how he was doing? If he was ok? And so on. Somehow Danny never gave up writing to Bruce.

That was until the last letter, sent over a year ago in handwriting Bruce didn’t recognize. Jasmine, Danny’s adopted sister had written that dated letter over a year ago.

Over a year ago Danny had been killed, killed in an accident in the Fentons Lab. No body left to be buried only the address of an empty grave.

Notes

(Danny is 11 years younger than Dick, 4 years younger than Jason, 2 years younger than Tim, 4 years older than Damian)

Damian - 11

Danny - 15

Tim - 17

Jason - 19

Dick - 26

(Danny is Phantom but when he died he decided he didn’t want to deal with an abusive Jack and Maddie anymore so he continued on as phantom only being Danny with his friends and in the realms when he was safe with Allies)

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp fic #danny fenton #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover

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zhng96 · 9 months

Text

𝐁𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 — zb1

↳ pairing: ot9!zb1 x gn!reader

↳ warning: fluff for those w a sweet tooth <3

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆

↳ moving you by your waist

- sidewalk rule is something HE LIVES BY

- when you’re blocking his way he’ll gently just grab your waist and beckon you to move UGH

- he is so boyfriend i will die

- he lives for the flustered look on your face EVERY TIME HE DOES IT

- you swear you will never get used to it

- you are walking on the side closer to the street? NOT GNNA HAPPEN UNDER HIS WATCH!

- you’re a little too close to a high ledge? NOT UNDER HIS WATCH

- you’re a little lost?? he’ll guide you by gently pushing you by the waist EHEHEHHE

- got me giggling n all..

(rest of the members under the cut!)

— 𝐙𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐎

↳ is constantly taking candid pictures of you :(( (he has a whole album he organized once a week on his phone)

- he wishes he could inject your reaction tho finding out every time he takes a picture

- he finds you so endearing istg

- he will purposely turn his ringer on so you can hear the camera snap

- sometimes he already awaits your reaction to the first snap so he takes a picture while your eyes are wide in realization

- he treasures it forever (it’s his lockscreen)

- i can imagine you guys being on face time while you are getting ready for the day and he just does the face time screen shot thing

- hes so boyfriend im afraid 😣😣 (pt2)

— 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐍

↳ always takes one flower from the bouquets he buys you to know when to buy you a new one

- we need more hanbins in the world 💔💔

- this man buys you a bouquet without you even asking he is literal perfection

- he sets the one flower on his window sill and always makes sure to check it everyday before leaving for work to know if he has to buy you a new one or not </3

- the first time he did it he texted you “hey since the last bouquet died do u prefer lilies or peonies?”

- you went feral LIKE HOW DID HE KNOW??!!

- and then when you went over to his house one day you saw a flower similar to the ones in your bouquet and you connected the dots

- he goes to the same flower shop every time too

- he goes to a locally managed one!! he thinks the flowers are prettier there than at any supermarket

- the old lady who runs the store is basically his second mother and told him to bring you so you two could meet

- he is so boyfriend it is actually crazy (pt3)

— 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖

↳ buys everything that reminds him of you

- he is so adorable

- he’s out with his friends and he finds a plushie that resembles you?? yeah he’ll buy it

- some times he gifts them to you but sometimes he’ll keep it

- when you ask him about it he’ll be like “oh it made me think of you!”

- one time you noticed a cute plushie in the backseat of his car and you asked him where and why he bought it

- he said “it reminds me of you! that way every time im driving it feels like you’re with me :)”

- you melt EVERYTIME

- HE IS SO BOYFRIEND (pt4)

- you guys build a ikea shelf for your room solely used for displaying matthew’s trinkets he bought thinking of you :(

- he says its the yn museum LOLL

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐄

↳ constantly bumps into you as you walk

- it sounds annoying but it’s actually really endearing :(

- times he can’t hug you he’ll touch you by teasing and bumping into you

- he’s also distracted and just so comfortable and immersed in your conversation that he can’t walk straight

- (but he doesn’t tell you that)

- sometimes he almost pushes the both of you off the side walk LOL

- he finds moments where being playful but also being close to you are his favourite memories

- sometime when you get tired of it you just hold his hand which suddenly makes him stop hehe

- he just wants to be close to you is all

- and tease you <33

- boyfriend coded (pt5)

— 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐈

↳ sets food on your plate whenever you eat out

- AHHH THIS MAKES ME SMILE SO HARD

- i feel like hes not the most openly affectionate person,,, like he shies away from pda n all that

- so instead he shows his love through his actions!!!

- you guys are out eating at a kbbq place and hes just placing some meat or rice on your plate </3

- he’s so attentive w/ it too like when he notices the pile is slowly getting smaller, he takes more off of the grill and sets it on your plate :(((

- when you take notice he smiles, places more and goes “here you go” AHHHH

- once u got to the last piece on your pile its tradition to feed it to him :))

- he happily accepts

- he’s so lovely :((

- and so boyfriend </3 (pt6)

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐍

↳ touching you with his cold hands

- LIVES for harmless teasing

- he’ll take his hands and cup your cheeks with them :((

- he loves the squeal and the cute little face you make :((

- HE JUST LOVES YOU!!!

- sometimes you guys are cuddling in bed and he’ll put his hands under your shirt and rest them on your stomach

- you squeal again which = happy happy gyuvin

- he always apologizes w kisses afterward tho :)

- now you are both happy

- GAWD HE IS SO BOYFRIEND (pt7)

— 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐊

↳ whenever you ask for one of his hoodies, he sprays a fresh spritz of his cologne on it

- he likes any opportunity to give you his hoodies :))

- he acts like he doesn’t see you basking in the cologne the hoodie absorbed the first few times he gives you his hoodie

- so now he makes sure to give it an extra spray before giving it to you :))

- he’s considered buying you the cologne as a gift once actually

- but he likes the feeling of keeping the secret that he knows how much you like the scent so he decides against it :)

- he likes seeing your smile every time you put one of his hoodies on not knowing he was admiring hehe

- bf coded (pt8)

— 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈𝐍

↳ compares you to cute and funny animal pictures

- im tempted to make a seperate imagine for this its just so cute

- you’ll just be going about your day and he’ll text you

- he’ll just send the picture of an animal and say “you :)”

- you ask him to elaborate (he has picsart downloaded just for this moment) so he sends a collage of a picture of you resembling the actions or face the animal makes

- he is so cuteness i will die

- when you guys are hanging out he’ll take it phone screen and open up a picture of an animal and hold the screen right next to you face

- he inspects it like he’s an artist and just giggles

- you live for it tho

- oh can’t forget about the times he would ask you to do a pose and you comply reluctantly and he takes a picture and adds it to his collection of pictures that resemble an animal :)

- yea he has an entire album on his camera roll

navi. mlist.

#. . . 🖋️ zhng’s prose #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 imagine #zerobaseone #zerobaseone x reader #ki gyuvin x reader #gyuvin x reader #han yujin x reader #zhanghao x reader #sung hanbin x reader #kim jiwoong x reader #shen quanrui x reader #park gunwook x reader #gunwook x reader #kim taerae x reader #taerae x reader #seok matthew x reader

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maeby-cursed · 2 months

Text

➴ OH, STUPID CUPID ! ♡

✧ a/n: happy valentine's, dear angels ! ♡

Toji Fushiguro doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day.

Why would he, after all? It’s merely a capitalist ploy to keep the consumerism engines turning. You can disguise greed in glittery pink polish and white chocolate bonbons but at its core, it won't change its nature.

And so, he spends St. Valentine’s like he would any other day; gets up at dawn, works until his hands are peeled and his back aches and gets home to eat whatever he has left over.

It’s a good routine, the most stable one he’s found for himself in years.

He can't recall a time where the fourteenth of February meant anything at all.

(Except for that one year that it had.)

But he won't think of withered flowers or laughing kisses or other sweets that have since rotten in his memory. A woman, a child, an apartment downtown.

That is all long gone now. The apartment downtown had gotten expensive, and the child had grown older. The woman had gone long ago and there were no more flowers or kisses or laughter.

It’s all capitalism, it’s all vapid and stupid and childish.

So, Toji Fushiguro doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day. That is until you come along, knocking on his workshop’s door.

You’re obviously lost, mumbling an inquiry about how much you could get for selling a motorbike you keep referring to as "an old piece of garbage".

He can't help but snicker at your wording, a little chuckle that grows into a full chest laugh when he sees what you’ve dragged to his shop. It’s painfully obvious that this thing isn’t yours.

You keep holding the handlebars with careful hands, sparing few disgusted glances to the vehicle, as if its mere existence wounded you.

He asks how long you’ve had it, and where you got it, and how much you’d like to get.

You answer back curtly: two years, your ex, nothing as long as you get rid of it.

You seem annoyed just by having to be there and for some unexplainable reason this amuses him to no end. Maybe being surrounded by car engines in a small workshop with no windows is starting to affect him.

“I’ll take it.”

You raise your gaze from the dusty headlight, shocked by his offer.

“You will?”

“Sure thing. You don’t want it, I could use some new parts, I’ll just scrap it.”

You let out a sigh, relieved, and all the tension dissipates from your shoulders.

“Oh, that… well, that would be great! Thank you.”

Your smile makes him stop in his tracks. Pretty and warm and familiar – something dangerous. His head travels back.

After a second that lasts forever, he acknowledges what you've said, grunting as his only response and getting back to the store with you in tow.

“Could I leave it with you now or…?"

“Bring it back next week, I don’t really have a place to put it right now, y’know?”

You look around the place. It’s full of buckets of paint and car parts, no decor but stacks upon stacks of metallic shelves full of objects you can’t recognize. You chuckle awkwardly, seemingly in a better mood after the compromise you've arranged.

“Right, uhm… Actually, I'm not here next week, could I come back tomorrow?”

Toji turns back to stare at you, and for the first time, really sees you. You look young, probably in your mid-twenties, of bright eyes and shiny hair, and that pretty smile that keeps fluttering over your lips.

He hasn’t done this in a long time… But maybe…

“I close at 10pm today, why don’t you come back then?” he says, closing his fists to stop them from sweating.

Your wondering eyes freeze on him then, and your lips part slightly. He just can't stop staring.

“But it’s Valentine’s Day. Don’t you have any plans?” you ask, shyly.

“I don’t believe in that crap.”

Shit. That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“Oh,” you whisper. You're still grinning up at him, but your expression has lost its warmth, instead replaced by a polite awkwardness and doubtful gaze, and now he's kicking himself in his head.

“Sorry, did that bother you?” he asks, hiding his guilt with a smirk.

“No, not at all!" You laugh, playing with your hands. "I… just, I don’t mind it, I guess.

"I know it's not even a real holiday and that it's merely a product of capitalism, and that it’s all about sales and consumerism and all of that, but… I find it nice, you know? Having a day to be with the people you love…" You look around his shop once, before giving him a shy stare. "It’s sappy, I know.” You end with a shrug, your ears flushed.

Toji doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just breathes and takes it in.

Oh, he’s grown bitter, hasn’t he? Old and sour.

His son is out there right now buying flowers with his friends, his coworker is on a date at a fancy place, his one and only friend is buying chocolates for his wife… And he’s here at 5pm, with his hands dirty and his neck sweaty and the prettiest woman he’s seen in a long time in front of him, with no plans for tonight and a lovely smile hidden by a familiar sort of nervousness.

What is wrong with him? Is he truly that fucking stubborn? Can't he deal with a bit of pink?

He’ll admit that he's never minded the chocolates and the roses – even if they aren’t his favorite – and that he always laughs at the cherubs and the cheesy postcards. Of course, he won't talk about how he still hums old 50s songs while he works or how he indulges in a bit of dessert when February rolls around, though.

But he knows. He's always known.

So, maybe it’s not all about the money. Maybe it’s more about being accompanied for once since he was twenty three and alone. Maybe it’s more about taking a shot at getting something good back.

Maybe it's not all capitalism, not all vapid and stupid and childish.

“Yeah… I guess it’s not all that bad.”

“I do like it… sometimes,” you finish, as if completing his train of thought. This hasn't happened to him in a long time. "I’ll be back tonight then…?”

He recovers quickly, smirking briefly before turning to clean his hands with a rag.

“Sure, at 10pm," he says, over his shoulder.

You laugh, cheerful once more, and begin walking to the door.

“It’s a date!”

And, God, he really hopes it can be, if only because it’s Valentine’s Day.

#🎐 𓂃 mae’s typing !#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro imagines #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji fluff #fushiguro toji imagines #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fluff #toji imagines #toji fushiguro #jjk

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norrisleclercf1 · 7 months

Note

Hi can we get some dad!Lando being such a girl dad, like letting the gremlins do makeup on him or like fashions shows pls ♥️♥️

A/N: Lando screams girl dad and it's just so cute tbh

"Are you sure you and the girls are going to be, okay?" You've left Lando alone with the girls before. But this time you were going on a girl's trip and he was in charge. You have complete faith in your husband, but your girls could be utter terrors when they wanted to be. "Y/n, we'll be fine." Lando soothes your worries.

"Okay, just if you need me. Call me," Lando starts to shove you out of the door. "I love you," He kisses you before closing the door. "Girls! Bailey? Daphene?" Lando sighs, his wife was right. The girls could be little terrors, and when the house was silent, he knew they were doing something they shouldn't be.

"Up here Daddy!' He sighs, hearing Daphene the oldest, yell from the girl's playroom. "Okay, so," he opens the door freezing when he sees his girls faces covered in makeup. "Alright, that's for another conversation but, Mommy has left for her trip. Meaning we're on our own and if you're good, I'll take you to a race." Bailey's head snaps up, red bright red and smeared.

"Really?" "Yes really, which means," "We get to see Uncle Max!" Bailey squeals, vibrating with excitement. Lando sighs, how did he lose his baby to Max, he'll never understand. "Daddy? Will you do something for us?" "Of course, baby." Pulling Daphene into his lap.

"Can you play dress up with us?" Daphene at 7, still loved playing with her 5-year-old sister and was just like Lando. Kept to herself until she was around someone, she's comfortable with. "Of course, I'd be hurt if you didn't ask me to play." The girls smile, bolting to their large treasure chest and flinging it open.

Lando laughs, as the girls find tiaras, fluffy scarfs with feathers that fill off and itched. Plastic shoes that clicked each time and rubbed his feet raw. Even finding him hard plastic earrings that clipped to his ears.

"Daddy, stay still." Bailey whines. Lando was staying still, as she smeared bright red lipstick all over his face. "Where did you find the makeup?" Lando asks, closing his eyes as Daphene layers eyeshadow on. "From Mommy's room." His eyes open fast, taking a deep breath he makes a mental note to go to your favorite store and replace it.

"All done!" Lando smiles, holding up the small mirror and tries his best not to lose it. "Daddy is pretty!" Daphene squeals. "Yes, and you made me pretty!" Lando smiles, hugging them. "Fashion show!" Lando laughs, standing up as he starts posing the girls giggling.

Daphene grabs Lando's phone and starts to take photos of Lando, none of them flattering but they're more for memories and to laugh about when they're older. "What are you doing Daph?" "Nothing, Daddy." She smiles sweetly and closes the phone.

It's not until dinner, and they're all cleaned off when Lando finally checks is phone. The girls sit in the living room watching Steve Irwin, what every kid watched when Lando was a child. Seeing all the texts and notifications he opens up Instagram and freezes.

All the pictures Daphene took are on his Instagram captioned with; Doesn't Daddy look pretty?

"Girls!"

Daphene's eyes fly open as she looks at Bailey. "I think he knows!" Lando wants to be furious but hearing their giggles calms that anger quickly. It might be embarrassing, but these memories were forever.

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taestefully-in-luv · 4 months

Text

Our Time | JJK (Seven)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 12.4k

Warnings: seriously depressing (for now) swearing, mentions of alcoholism, allusions to cheating

a/n: Hiiiiiii, long time no see!! Sorry for the delay and thank you for waiting. This story is at a depressing point (lol) so forgive me! I hope you guys can enjoy this chapter too 🥺 Well, I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An eternity has passed since you’ve last seen Jungkook…a total of six weeks. Each day has gotten equally harder as it has gotten easier. You think it’s just your body slowly getting used to his absence but your mind is yearning. Yearning and hurting.

But there is something that’s also painful like missing your ex-husband—your best friend—and it’s the videos of your life. A life you know nothing of.

If you thought pictures were hard, videos are much harder.

But you asked for this. You asked your parents and your friends to send you old pictures and videos of times you don’t remember living.

You’re seeing pictures of you and your friends in restaurants you don’t know. Bars you don’t know. Concerts for artists you don’t know. Pictures of you in your bedroom, but it’s a bedroom you don’t know.

You have haircuts and styles you don’t know.

In the videos, you hear yourself laughing at inside jokes you don’t know. You’re using vocab and slang you don’t know. You see yourself giggling and joking around with people you. don’t. know. And you feel more like an outsider than ever. Not just to this world but to the girl you see on screen, you are an outsider to herworld.

Perhaps you’ve gotten too use to separating your different selves. And perhaps that makes it harder to unite with them.

Past you is current you but current you thinks of current you as future you.

It’s all a headache to think about.

You know they’re all you but because you’ve kept them separate, it’s somehow becoming the shackles that stops all the you’s from uniting.

And that’s what needs to happen for all of your memories to return. You have to unite 24 year old you and 33 year old you. It’s only your sanity on the line.

Now that you’ve discovered a couple of things, the only way to go from here is to intentionally spark your memories—in any way. You have to. Because you know 33 year old you has started something...

You quickly tear your eyes from the video on screen to take a quick peak towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You’ve visited the attic a few times because of all of the memories that are stored in there.

But those boxes are filled with more than just memories.

Your eyes go back to your phone in hand as your thumb hesitantly hovers over the screen. You know you should move on to another video but it almost feels like you don’t have it in you. You don’t have it in you to stop listening to the sound of your child’s laughter when you can’t recognize it.

You don’t have it in you to stop the possibility of triggering your brain to suddenly remember him.

You finally force your thumb to the screen and you quickly pause it. You take in a sharp breath before exiting the video to scroll through the five videos your mom sent you. You see Haru in all five. And you can see Jungkook in three of them. You chose one where you couldn’t see Jungkook.

But this video of Haru’s giggles feels just as heartbreaking but more than anything, it feels frustrating. Because you don’t know him.

And that feels like an unbearable heartache on its own.

Suddenly, your eyes bounce from the video thumbnails to the text your mom just sent you.

Mom 7:28am

Good morning! We’re our way to the station and should arrive in Seoul around 2pm. You’re still picking us up, right?

You slowly close your already drooping eyes, the moment way too brief before you open them again, glancing towards the living room windows where the obvious sunlight comes through. Another night you didn’t sleep. Your eyes battling your brain. You might get a few hours if you try to sleep now, at the least.

“I just don’t understand how you can drink those all day,” Your mother’s eyes go from the knife in her hand to the iced coffee in yours. “I know it’s got to be giving you heartburn.” She laughs a little while shaking her head, eyes going back down to the cutting board where she chops onions.

You blink at your mom before dropping your eyes to the coffee in your hand, “Wait, is this why?”

She chuckles again, “Must be from your dads side of the family.” She shrugs now, letting the onions slide off the board and into a pan.

You roll your eyes at your moms playful comment before sliding the coffee away from you as you sit at your kitchen island, “Anyway, dad’s kind of taking a while, no?” You glance around the kitchen as if he would suddenly appear here.

Your mom smiles to herself while her hands remain busy with cooking dinner, “Yeah, he’s waiting for me to text him saying he can come back from the store.”

You can’t help but snort since you know exactly what she means.

Back when you were a teenager and going through life’s woes that made the whole world feel like it was ending, you would have your meltdowns. Period cramps that made you moody, a friend talking behind your back, the boy you liked was seen kissing someone else. All the things your dad left your mom to handle. He would suddenly want to go to the store and she would somehow signal him when it was safe to return—after the two of you got to talk out whatever was bothering you.

You realize she’s done it now.

“You never used to take this long to tell me what was going on though.” Your mom says quietly, eyes trained on the stove. “Especially not about Jungkook.” She sighs as she reaches for the wooden spoon before stirring the ingredients.

You feel something sharp inside your chest, just at the mention of his name, like there’s a sharp knife.

You turn your face to the side, something uncomfortable and electric tightens your jaw. As if it’s a burning signal that even the mere mention of Jungkook, makes you want to cry. But you won’t. “Well, mom.” You take a deep breath before looking towards her again with a sarcastic smile. “Our marriage wasn’t exactly as perfect as you thought.”

You hope this is enough for her to realize that Haru’s disappearance wasn’t the wedge that created such distance between you and your now, ex-husband.

You stare at the back of your mom’s head as she stands at the stove, still cooking. You wonder if she’s in utter shock at the revelation that perhaps Jungkook isn’t perfect. And your marriage definitely wasn’t. You wait and wait. But you see how she starts adding in a few other things.

“I said—”

“—What marriage is perfect?” Your mom finally turns around, cutting you off with a raised brow. “I never thought that. I’ll never think that. About anyone.” She scoffs before turning towards the stove again. “I told you that you didn’t usually take this long to talk about Jungkook with me.”

You don’t say anything.

Your mom turns her head towards you for a moment, you see the corner of her lip barely start to lift, like a knowing smile wants to form but her frown decides not to budge, “You were married to him for years…you don’t think you’ve come to complain to me?”

You understand her almost smirk now. She faces forward towards the stove again.

“Maybe around six months before Haru’s…incident. You came to Busan and I could tell something was up and you needed to talk.” Your mom rests a hand on her hip, while the other reaches for the stove knob as she turns it down. “But just like now…” She turns her head to eye you again, her worries pulling her lips into a deeper frown. “You took a while to tell me.”

You don’t really react. Not as your brain processes this information.

Your mom continues, “So I know your marriage wasn’t perfect. Jungkook’s not perfect. You’re not perfect.” She exhales through her nose in a half laugh. “I’m not perfect. Your father’s not either. But what’s between us…it has to be protected.”

“Unless that person betrays you.” You say in a low voice, eyes going to your fingers as you pick at your cuticles. “And you lose your trust in them.”

You hear your mom at the stove again as she turns it off and puts the lid on the pan. After a moment you see your mother in your peripherals as she comes to the other side of the counter and sits next to you.

“You mentioned something similar back then.” She says quietly, her face looking ahead. “But then I thought…well, that you thought it wasn’t what you thought.”

You quickly turn your head in your moms direction, eyes on hers. What all did you say to her? “Well, it was.” You say firmly.

Your mom’s eyebrows pull together slowly, something similar to confliction rising in her eyes. “And how exactly did Jungkook betray you?” She asks after a moment.

And it feels pathetic, the feeling of all the muscles in your face betraying your collected appearance. So pathetic that the answer to this question makes your expression twist and break off the cracking mask that is now crumbling and falling from your face.

It takes less than an instant for your heartbreak to be written all over.

Your mom puts a hand to your back, letting you cry it out.

Just like you did when you were a moody teenager and the only one who understood your meltdowns was your mom. She lets you know that once again, that no matter how small or how big—you had every right to feel the way you wanted to.

You cry, a soft pat repeating on your back as you mumble how sad you are and how embarrassing this is.

This short cry feels more like relief in the right company rather than something that is rocking your world in the worst way.

Your mom chuckles a little, pulling away from you. “Embarrassing?”

“Yeah.” You nod with a shameless smile and damp cheeks. “I know you know the me that’s been married to him for years but in my eyes we’ve been on one date and he was our neighbor. So I feel like you should be teasing me about us but you’re here with more knowledge about my marriage than me.” You laugh as you cry more, “So it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Hm,” Your mom chuckles again, “I guess I can understand that.”

You nod while your fingers wipe beneath your eyes repeatedly, they’re only teary now.

Your mom brings her hand away from you, her fingers intertwining on top of the counter. You watch as she stares down at her hands in thought before she finally sighs and turns your way with a small smile. “Talk to me, y/n. You’re convinced Jungkook betrayed you in some way—ways I can only assume—but tell me, do you really think he’s capable of what you’re thinking?”

You study your mother’s expression for a long moment, brows beginning to furrow when you realize she doesn’t buy it. Tearing your eyes away from her, your lips twist in annoyance, “Are you saying I shouldn’t believe in my own memories?”

You hear your mom sigh again, “You remembered something unpleasant, y/n. I’m not saying I don’t believe you…but even back then,” She pauses, hoping you will look at her but you don’t. She finally continues, “Things just didn’t add up…”

You’re quick to find her eye again, “What all did I tell you?”

At this, your mother scoffs lightly, her small smile still on her lips. “Nothing that really made sense. Seemed like you just…couldn’t tell me things. But I’m not dumb, you know? You drop plenty of hints when you get talking.”

“Oh.” You blink at her, wishing you could even remember whatever hints she’s referring to.

“But the issue is that you stopped talking. You got quiet.” Your mother looks back at her hands again, her gaze hardening. “Then when Haru’s incident happened…you shut us all out. Everyone…” She whispers, lines between her brows forming, a hint of disappointment in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Even Jungkook.”

You can’t help but feel that same knife start slicing open the inside of your chest at the mention of his name again. “Probably because it’s his fau—”

“—He lost Haru too, y/n.” Your mom cuts you off, her eyes that are filled with something close to anger land on you. “You both did and what’s worse is that you both lost one another in the process.”

“I don’t remember the process but I’m sure I had a hard time even looking him in the eye.” You spit out. “You don’t know what happ—”

“—Do you?” She throws back at you. “Because you have yet to give me a story that makes even a little sense.”

Your heart starts screaming like someone just squeezed it way too hard. You force yourself to look away because tears that no one invited start to form. You feel done with this conversation but before you can announce its over, your mom sighs again and her palm rests against your back and you don’t have it in you to shove her off.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters softly, almost sounding regretful. “I am. You have no idea…” You feel her hand slowly retreat from your back, “How sometimes I would just pray you wouldn’t get your memories back. So you wouldn’t…”

Your mother’s voice grows much softer, almost too quiet to hear.

“Seeing you heartbroken all over again hurts us, y/n. I thought it would be easier…for you. But I guess it’s just easier for us.” She admits, a sharpness in her tone that indicates her regret. “There’s no way you would live happier if parts of you felt missing.”

You feel her words stick to your skin uncomfortably, like sweat from the hot sun rather than a run you worked for. It’s unpleasant but also unwelcomed.

Unwelcomed because you don’t want to accept a life where that could be the case—forced to live a life even with parts of you missing.

An uncomfortable reality and possibility.

“More than…” You begin, hands lifting to gesture towards nothing. “This is more than just Jungkook.”

Your mom chuckles to herself. “Of course I know that.”

“I’m starting to wonder what would feel worse,” You glance towards your empty hands before your fingers clutch nothing softly. “Remembering my child. Or not remembering my child.” Then your lips curl into a half smile that feels so empty as you silently cringe toward yourself, “It doesn’t even feel right saying ‘my’…” you immediately halt, teeth suddenly piercing into your bottom lip. You don’t even feel right calling Haru ‘your’ child. Because you don’t feel like his mother.

You try to keep the half smile plastered on your face but the sharp shock of tears that fill your eyes betray your wants. You quickly blink them away.

“I want to hate Jungkook so bad for so many reasons,” You admit before clearing your throat, “But I mostly hate him because at least he would recognize our sons laugh while I don’t. I hate him because I blame him but at least he knows the kid that I hate him for.”

Also an uncomfortable reality.

“Well,” Your mothers tone lets you know she’s about to change the subject. “You had a doctor’s appointment recently, right? How did it go?”

You shake your head, “He said the progress can be really slow…and that it’s normal for the brain to block out certain traumatic events. So much…” You pause.

“So much what?”

You sigh, “So much doesn’t make sense. It has me feeling so restless.”

“I’m sorry.” Your mom releases a shaky breathy before you hear her voice crack. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know what’s the worst part?” You decide to keep the venting session going. “I just feel ashamed. I’m a parent but I don’t even know about it. I feel so lost. I don’t think if I was given a child I could—”

“This doesn’t make you less of a mother, y/n.” Your mom snaps her eyes in your direction, a fierceness in them. “You are still a parent. A damn good one at that.”

You study your mother’s expression with a fondness, because you see her sincerity. This makes your eyes sting again. “Thanks, mom.”

After a nice weekend with your parent’s, you decide you’ve been resting enough. You want to start working again, having too much time on your hands seems like a problem nowadays. You find yourself back at that new café.

“I’ll take a honey lavender latte.” You tell the girl at the counter, her eyes immediately widening before she nods her head in approval.

“Great choice. A personal fav.” She grins before continuing, “And I make it the best.”

A new voice joins in from behind, startling you. “Make that two.” A man says. You quickly turn around, eyes rising towards the same man you spilled coffee on. “Oh, it’s you.”

He brings a hand to his heart, “I’m a you? That means you remember me!” He smiles at you, shaking his dark hair from his eyes.

You bite your lip, guilt sinking in from the last time. “Well, I thought you were gonna press charges for burning you last time. So, I guess I would remember.”

He looks taken aback, his eyes going round. “Press charges?” Then he laughs, “No, no. I wouldn’t do that, who wants to deal with cops, anyway?”

“Just the two lattes?” The girl at the counter speaks up in a sing song voice and you immediately spin in your spot to apologize to her but the man beats you to it while he pulls out his wallet.

“Should we get a cookie too?” He asks you, his head tilting a little and you start shaking your head. “You sure?” He smiles.

You’re the one taken aback. This guy is too kind. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone.

“Seokjin, you are going to buy us out again.” The girl sighs as she smiles before glancing at you. “He ordered us all out just yesterday.”

“It was for the elderly! You know they get a little cranky if they don’t get something a little sweet to eat! Hasn’t it brought more customers? You could say thank you.” He gets playfully defensive, pout on his lips and the girl gives a shrug while nodding. “Well, it does make my boss happy. And if he’s happy,” She leans over the counter and whispers. “It’s a better day for everyone.” Then she giggles.

“See!” Seokjin crosses his arms like he’s still offended. “I’m just trying to help you all have a better day!”

You guess he is this nice to everyone.

And before you know it, he’s taking out his card and paying for the drinks. You realize it but it’s too late.

“You didn’t have to pay for that…” You mumble, hand paused on your own wallet. “But thank you.”

“Hopefully you’ll have an even better day too.” He smiles at you and it feels warm.

You take a moment to get a good look at him and you realize just how handsome he is. You remember his chest and broad shoulders from last time but now you see just how full and plump his lips are but you also like his brown eyes.

He smiles at you again.

You’re staring.

“See you around, I guess.” Seokjin puts his wallet back into his back pocket before walking off towards a table near a window.

You know his name but he doesn’t know yours and that feels a little bit like a shame.

But there’s no time for harmless nice guys giving you warm smiles. You’re here to work. Or actually here to retrain yourself on how to do your work.

Your job agreed to help you relearn everything so today, you’re going to sit at a table and get trained. And the girl you knew from college that works at your job will be in contact with you if you have any questions. Mijoo. Apparently you two were a bit acquainted before you started working from home.

When you find a table near the bookshelves, you get to work. There’s updates on old programs you were familiar with but there’s new ones too. Plus, the market is a bit different. It’s a lot to learn but you think you’ll get the hang of it quickly. Just like you did back in the day when you were just starting out.

Two hours or more has passed and you’re buried in your work. But you see a man in your peripherals and a cookie wrapped in parchment paper suddenly on the table right next to your laptop.

You look up and Seokjin gives you that same warm smile before it turns sheepish. “I ended up ordering two for myself a little while ago but I’m too full. You can have it. Well…well, only if you want it, of course.”

You blink up at him before you look at the cookie.

“It’s okay, if you don’t!”

Your eyes go to him again and you shake your head before you give him your own smile. “No, no!” You tell him quickly, “I-I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“Oh.” His lips form the perfect ‘o’ and he gives you a nod. “Nice. See ya.” And he’s smiling again before walking out of the café.

His entire aura is warm and you realize you appreciate people like him even more now. With how cold life has been.

After a long day of sitting at the café, you’re now sitting on the floor of your dusty attic. It’s gotten easy to figure out which boxes were stored here by your own hands and which boxes are the ones that Jungkook packed up to avoid you seeing your life. It’s mostly obvious because Jungkook’s packing is much more organized than yours.

You wonder if this box of framed photos in front of you is so neat because he looked at each one slowly, taking his time as he looked at the memories he knew you wouldn’t remember.

You wonder if he took his time because he misses Haru.

And because he missed you.

You manage to conceal a bitter scoff as you lift your foot and push it flat against the box, forcing it back a few inches. Your concern isn’t Jungkook right now. Stop thinking about him. Stop looking at your photos with him. Stop looking at the life you lived with him.

Right now those are your priority.

A strained sigh leaves your mouth as you eye the boxes you’ve dragged to the other side of the attic. You’ve been trying to organize everything in here so you know what’s what. Eyes slide to the left where all your household memories are. Then they slowly drag across the attic, passing by an old, dusty desk to the right side where your personal mystery boxes are.

It’s taken a few days to really separate everything. Because this attic has more than just some boxes of memories and boxes of mysteries. It also has a few too many creepy crawlers hanging in the corners. And things you’re sure 33 year old you wanted to sell and get rid of.

Buzz.

Your eyes suddenly shoot down to your phone when it lights up and vibrates the attic floor, already seeing that it’s another message from Misuk in the group chat with her and Subin.

Last you checked they were gushing over a new song from an artist they like who you barely even know so you don’t rush to really look. Your eyes stay on the screen until the light dims and it goes black.

You’d be lying if you said you wish you didn’t have help. Someone to guide you to some answers.

Another strained sigh before a half assed chuckle barely rumbles in your chest.

Well, ‘someone’ could guide you to some answers. And that someone is 33 year old you but unfortunately you don’t understand majority of what you’ve found. As if only parts of the puzzle are in these boxes, just edges and corner pieces and you’re missing all the pieces that fill everything in.

Your eyes still linger on the black screen as they begin to lose focus as your mind whirls into your endless list of questions again. The boxes of mysteries are only three boxes. One of them having nothing to do with your son, you think. But the other two have caused some concern.

Something tells you that 33 year old you is really not convinced that your son is dead.

It’s clear you were investigating on your own. But your notes barely make sense. And it is more than fucking frustrating.

You’re about to close your eyes and groan but your phone suddenly lights up again as you feel a slight vibration next to your foot. It’s another text but it doesn’t look like its apart of the group chat.

You squint at the screen but it’s too far to really read anything so you finally give in and reach for the device and bring it closer to your face. And then you feel the sudden thump in your lower belly where your heart just landed.

Jungkook 9:19pm

How are you doing?

A razor sharp sting tightens every muscle in your body, the sudden tension making your breaths stop.

More than a month and a half since you’ve last seen and spoken to him and he’s finally said something to you.

Finally because as much as you hate him, his existence makes you breathe. And you have to breathe to live.

Buzz.

Your hand vibrates along with your phone and you suddenly clench your fingers around it.

Jungkook 9:19pm

I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.

Your heart suddenly leaps up into your throat, choking you a bit as you try to breathe. Is that a confession? It already bothers you that he barely tried to explain himself and now he’s been silent all this time. And now he’s apologizing? He’s guilty, isn’t—

Buzz.

Jungkook 9:20pm

I just wish you would talk to me y/n…

That concealed scoff from earlier has finally broken free, pushing past your lips in something like disgust. Talk to him? Talk to him? You feel an uncomfortable anger start poking your skin from the inside and you squeeze your phone harder in you hand. The fucking audacity.

There’s a brief moment when you consider chucking your phone across the attic but fortunately you only slam it to the floor. Frustration still hot on your skin, you quickly reach for a worn out decorative pillow and hurl it in front of you with a lot of strength, knocking against the old desk as it wobbles for a moment.

You release a short puff of air, head lowering and eyes closing as you try to calm yourself. You’ll admit, it did feel kind of good to release some en—

Thump.

Your eyes snap open as you tilt your head up towards the desk where the sudden sound just came. Did something fall inside? But what? You had checked the desk before. The top drawer only had a few pens and some sticky notes while the bottom drawer was empty minus some loose sheets of printer paper. And the left side of the desk is just two empty book shelves. It is basically empty.

It was probably nothing.

You’re about to move on, mind already wanting to go back to Jungkook when the sudden thump just can’t make sense. Something with some weight definitely fell in or on the desk, right? But you’re sure there’s nothing from when you checked the other week.

Doesn’t hurt to look again, you decide. Maybe this is your intuition talking to you.

You finally lift yourself from the attic floor, giving one last look at the boxes that are filled with your life with Jungkook and Haru before heading towards the middle where the desk is. It’s got an impressive layer of dust that you haven’t found any real reason to clean since the desk isn’t something you’d visit often.

Giving in, you reach for the top drawer and open it, just like you had the other week, but just like last time, the drawer only has three pens, some used sticky notes with doodles and numbers lying around and one black marker.

You knew there was nothing. Shutting the drawer, you quickly open the bottom drawer. It’s a deeper space, like you could fit a small filing cabinet. But instead, there’s only a few loose sheets of blank printer paper.

Not convinced, you shove your hand inside the drawer, feeling around for anything strange and even trying to reach behind but you’re met with nothing. Okay. You step away from the desk for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously because you’re certain something with more weight than any of those things fell. And fell here.

There’s nothing else here besides this raggedy pillow. You glance down at it, the pathetic thing on the floor before you groan, kicking it away from you.

So what? You just imagine all kinds of things now? Is that the new normal?

Suddenly not minding the thick layer of dust, you lean forward in defeat, hands gripping the edge of the desk as you support some of your weight onto it but the desk wobbles forward on its probably broken, unsteady legs. And you know you don’t imagine it when something with some weight definitely shifts inside.

“Uh, what was that…?” You mumble to yourself, eyebrows coming together slowly as you take another look at the desk. Your eyes immediately fall to the left side where the two empty shelves are. It definitely came from this side.

You quickly squat down, eyes trained on the shelves, inspecting every single inch of the empty and terribly dusty space. “Don’t tell me…” You whisper, expression highly focused as you look at the back panel of the shelves. The shelving space is not nearly as deep as of the width of the desk.

You blink at it, breaths now falling from your lips faster as your fingers quickly go to touch the backing panel and when it wiggles freely with enough pressure, you know you’ve found something. Feeling impatient, you jostle the thin wood around until you can figure out how to remove it.

And when it starts poking through the side of the shelf, your heart starts racing while you quickly slide the panel through the wooden desk. You feel it. Maybe it’s instinct because somewhere in your brain you know this is familiar and means something. The panel drops to the floor once its slid out but before it even touches, your hands are already digging inside.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You repeat with shaky breaths. Fingers already grasping what’s here and you feel yourself growing more and more anxious. A shoe box. An open shoe box that’s close to overflowing. You pull it out while you sit down onto the floor, the box settling right in front of you.

“Okay,” You sigh, reaching for the first item on top. It’s a small note book, the kind you’d use to make a check list of sorts. You take a deep breath before flipping it open and a few loose contents fall out. And then you feel the breath of a ghost at the base of your neck.

You pick up a folded sheet of paper along with a bent photo of Nabi. You feel the cold breath travel down your spine as you unfold the paper and read what’s written in someone else’s handwriting.

Yun Nabi

118, Seolleungro-150, Yongsan-gu, Seoul

010-6203-3087

010 3476 9876àweekends

010 9874 3456 new ##

You stare down at the worn paper, confusion clouding your mind. You want to rip her photo to shreds.

You quickly glance to the bent photo in your other hand and before you tell your hand what to do, it’s already crumbling it. Your dark gaze set on the now wrinkled woman who managed to gain Jungkook’s attention.

Maybe it’s not her fault if she’s great.

Maybe it’s your fault.

Your eyes stay trained on the crumbled photo but they’ve lost focus once again. Soon the balled up picture and the folded note fall to your lap as Numbness hugs you over your shoulders and as Insecurity sits next to you and whispers into your ear.

Why did Jungkook cheat on you?

You manage to blink but your throat feels dry.

Why did he do that to you? Why would anyone…?

You want to laugh at yourself. Because you know if this happened to anyone else you would know it wasn’t their fault. The person who cheated…it’s about them and no one else. And you want to tell yourself this, remind yourself, confirm that this isn’t your fault.

But why do you sit here, letting Numbness hug you tighter? And why do you sit here and wonder?

You wonder…you wonder where you went wrong that you were no longer enough for him.

And it doesn’t feel fair that you’re wondering that.

You take the photograph and crumple it even more before throwing it to the side and decide to open the notebook. And you see more puzzle pieces.

Routine

7 he wakes up….sometimes 8

Jungkook takes him to work sometimes for fun

Someone at work?? Who? Another list

Daycare usually Mondays & Thursdays for sure

Busiest days at work

You flip the page

Thursday the 14th, at the bus station,

The 18th when I was going home

There was a car parked outside on the street for 3 days

The 5th

The 8th

The 12th I ran into someone who knew me but I didn’t know them

A man with buzzed hair

Something hot bubbles inside your chest and it feels like it’s burning you. Anxiety has a touch of fire. You flip to the next page.

It just scribbles like you were frustrated.

Just like you are now.

You decide to close to the notebook. Discomfort swallowing you like a dry pill.

But you don’t stop looking through the box. Pictures of people you don’t know. More lists of times and dates. But no context. More frustration building.

Your head snaps up suddenly when you recall something falling so you quickly reach inside the secretive hole in the desk and feel around. Your fingers grasp at nothing until something cold is felt. You can tell what it is immediately as you wrap your fingers around the device. A phone.

You take the cold, shiny device in your clammy hands and rush to turn it on but it’s got a dead battery. You turn the phone upside down to check what kind of charger it takes and remember that downstairs in the kitchen there’s a drawer of random charging cables.

You need to get this thing turned on. Now.

“Are you okay?” You immediately straighten your back, phone dropping to the attic floor, the sudden voice a shock since you live alone. You quickly look around you, eyes darting from place to place but of course, there’s no one here. You feel sick. Especially because…didn’t that voice sound like—

“Are you okay?” Jungkook comes next to you, his eyes avoiding yours but he can’t hide the concern in his voice. You look at him, equally annoyed as he is. But still, you hear in his voice he doesn’t totally hate you.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, fingers picking at the bandage wrapped around your palm. “It just got scraped.”

Jungkook chuckles humorlessly, “Misuk said Subin threw up in her mouth because of the blood.”

You shrug, “Okay, it was pretty bad.”

Jungkook stays silent and the same tension that’s been building since Sana’s wedding is here again. You, Jungkook, Misuk and Subin came to Busan for the weekend to celebrate your mom’s birthday but today, the day of the party, has been anything but fun. One thing after the other, but the cherry on top was around 20 minutes ago when you accidentally sliced your palm open while helping in the kitchen.

Now you’re outside trying to cool off but the last person you want to see has come to check on you.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook stares up at the tree you two are standing in front of outside your house. He doesn’t bother to try and soften his tone. Sure, it’s concerned but it’s also irritated.

“I told you it’s fine.” You answer, sounding clipped. “Just go back inside.”

“You’re mad at me if I’m inside. You’re mad at me if I’m outside.” He stuffs his hands in his front jean pockets and continues gazing at the tall tree. “I really don’t understand why you’re so up—”

“—Oh? You don’t?” You turn your head to glare at him, “Really?”

You watch Jungkook’s profile, his jaw tightening for a moment before he sighs out.

“I don’t know.” He tells you before turning to face you as well. Your eyes are narrowed but he sees plenty of disappointment in them. “Maybe I do. But I also seriously don’t.”

You look down to the ground, a moment of consideration because you kind of understand him. But then you recall last night and realize that no, he definitely should understand why you’re mad.

Things have changed between you two. Ever since Sana’s wedding, there’s been something different and enticing. Moments that feel way too charged to be platonic. But neither of you have spoken up about it. Maybe he’s afraid you don’t feel it. Or maybe you’re now just realizing you’re afraid he is the one who doesn’t feel it.

Because how doesn’t he understand that having his last serious girlfriend from Busan in your parents living room while they flirt with one another relentlessly in front of you, is not going to make you mad?

“You don’t think flirting with your ex-girlfriend in front of me wasn’t going to make me mad, Jungkook?” You throw the words at him without much care for his reaction. It’s an honest question, in your book.

“Okay,” Jungkook tilts his head back before running his hands through his hair, “So this is about Hanja.” He groans a little before giving in and taking a step closer to you. “I didn’t think it was a big deal…and you call her my ex girl-friend as if she doesn’t have a name. Hanja told me she had a lot of classes with you in High School!”

“And?” You deadpan. “Doesn’t make us friends.”

“Okay.” He nods but now he’s the one with disappointment in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you had to be rude.”

“You invited her to my mom’s birthday party!” You throw back, “And have barely even…” It sucks that your voice gets a little softer because you just want to make a point. “You’ve barely even looked at me since she’s been here.”

Jungkook’s lips part and he looks conflicted as he registers your words but you don’t wait for him to get it before you continue.

“Sure,” You manage a stubborn shrug, “Maybe you’re not flirting with her but you don’t stop her when she does with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow, “She hasn’t flirted with me, y/n.” He tries to assure you, his tone finally not irritated but instead the same soft as yours. “We just have history, you know? But that was what? 5 years ago? 6? 7? I don’t even know. We ended on good terms so I thought it was harmless. She’s in town too and had nothing to do…I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“I just…” You finally meet his eye for the first time more willingly, “I don’t know.”

He finally relaxes his features and a pleasantly pleased smile starts tugging at the corner of his lips, “You’re…jealous.” He confirms softly.

You raise a brow at him, feeling annoyed. “So then you do understand why I’m mad.”

“Yeah.” He agrees but you see the uncertainty in his eyes. “But I wasn’t sure. Maybe hoping but I couldn’t be sure, you know?”

“Did you want me to be jealous?” You ask, unsure how that makes you feel but you see genuine and quiet panic all over his face while he shakes his head.

“No, no.” He tells you with big eyes. “But when I realized you were mad at me, I thought it could be because you were jealous. And,” He pauses, swallowing what you think is nerves. “That’s why I became hopeful, I guess.”

“And why is that?” A cool breeze suddenly picks up and it feels nice against your cheeks.

“Because it might mean…” His words grow quieter, seeking your understanding of where he was going. “But without being direct…well, I can’t really be sure, you know?”

“Then why can’t we be direct?” You gesture between your bodies, “I like you, Jungkook.” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to say it, to admit it, but it does take a lot of effort to not tear your eyes away from him in embarrassment. But your gaze remains on his.

“And there’s no way I’m imagining—”

“—You aren’t!” Jungkook panics, his fingers flying to your wrists, holding on to them as he persuades your eyes to remain on his again. “You aren’t imagining it. I know it, too.” He tells you but he looks and sounds conflicted.

“For months, Jungkook.” You say quietly, “I’ve been wondering for months if you’re going to make a real move on me.”

He can’t help but smile at you nervously, his clammy fingers still pressing into your wrists. “I just…” Jungkook’s smile begins dropping as he explains himself, “…I’m so afraid of talking about this because it might change our friendship and you’re just,” He pauses, eyes searching yours because he needs to see if you understand. “You’re too important, y/n.”

“You’d rather never tell me how you feel because it might change our friendship?” You ask him, ignoring the fire burning along the edges of your skin. “You would rather spend forever just wondering if I feel the same as you? Just like I’ve been wondering if you feel the same as me? Too afraid to talk about it because it…might change our friendship?”

Jungkook’s fingers finally disconnect from your skin and into his hair, his nerves only multiplying but he finds the courage to say, “If you didn’t feel the same, things would change.”

“If I didn’t feel the same then things wouldn’t have changed in the first place. Jungkook, things have already changed. And I don’t like wondering. We’re already past platonic so I’ll tell you—”

Suddenly, your head starts pounding.

A new memory unlocked.

And it only makes you sit on your attic floor and cry.

Great timing.

Your fingers feel frozen, maybe even numb as you dig through another random kitchen drawer to find the correct charger for the phone you’ve found. So far you haven’t been lucky. Then again, nothing feels lucky. You’ve been quiet to yourself all day after last night. Not even a thought out loud.

Your eyes grow watery again but you immediately slam your lids shut, squeezing tightly because you refuse to shed anymore tears. You might have to buy a new charger but you really aren’t in the mood to leave the house. You aren’t in the mood for anything except maybe hurling more old, worn out, decorative pillows at dusty furniture. But now you feel afraid for what you might find. The more mysteries you unlock, you’re afraid to unlock a memory along with it.

It's evening now, the kitchen clock says 6:13pm. The day has gone by. You watched the sun rise this morning and now you’re witnessing it set. You have yet to find it in you to sleep today. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll slip into your bed that you once shared with Jungkook and suddenly you’ll remember all the times you’ve slept in it with him. You can’t afford any more of that. Just yesterday you were begging 33 year old you to share some of the life you’ve missed and now that she is sharing some of the years…you’re realizing you aren’t ready.

You take a deep breath, shutting a drawer shut when you decide to order a new charging cable for the phone. Your eyes slide to the device that rests peacefully on the counter while your heart beats uncomfortably in your throat. You stare at it, wondering what contents lie inside but a part of you feels fearful of what you might find.

Taking another breath, you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself for a moment before you decide to take care of this. Sitting yourself at the kitchen island, opening your laptop, you search the phone and get the cable ordered for delivery tomorrow. This is better than driving yourself nuts trying to find it.

You close your eyes, resting your head down to the counter, wishing you could turn your day around.

Ding Dong.

Your eyes snap open.

And something unsettling starts whirling in your belly. As if you can sense who is at your door.

Knock Knock Knock.

You groan quietly to yourself because you just know. You know exactly who it is for some insane reason. You just feel it. You stand from the stool and walk yourself to your front door. Swinging it open without even peeping through the hole to confirm your suspicions.

Jungkook’s doesn’t look too good. For as handsome as he is, he looks rough. His skin is dry, his lips are pale and the bags under his eyes give away how much sleep he isn’t getting. You don’t care though. Not about him. Your fingers grip around the door frame tighter, your skin burning at the sight.

“I just wanted to see how you were.” He tells you, voice so quiet you had to read his lips. You want to scoff bitterly in his face, shut him out and make him feel thrown away.

But your foot pushes the front door further open as you turn around to go into the living room. You’ve invited him in. Though, ‘invited’ feels like a strong word.

You can hear the door creak open even furth from behind you, shoes are shuffling onto the floor and the door clicks shut. You hold your breath as you walk to the sofa, sitting yourself down at the very end of it as your eyes glue themselves to the black screen of the TV.

Jungkook follows your lead and sits at the other end of the couch. In your peripherals, he looks like a big, black scribble of a thousand swirling lines and you don’t have it in you to focus your eyes on him and let him appear as Jungkook. As a person. So, you keep your eyes on the TV.

Nothing is said between you both for a long while, all your senses are heightened though as you anticipate his next words to you. The hairs on your arms rise when the click of the AC goes off as it turns on. You wonder if his next words have to do with apologizing about cheating on you. Apologize to you that you just couldn’t be enough. Apologize to you for losing your son.

Your head slightly tilts in the direction of the kitchen when you notice the soft drip drops of water from the faucet. The distant bark from a small dog. Jungkook’s fingernails scratching his forearm. Every noise is going off in your ears, haunting you, taunting you and driving you insane.

You only want to hear his voice.

“Why are you here?” You finally break the noisy silence.

“To see you.” He says, voice quiet and afraid. “You’re doing better than me, huh?”

Your palms are flat against the couch cushion before you slowly curl your fingers, grabbing nothing of the material at his words. “Do you really think you get to say that to me?”

“This isn’t fair for either of us, y/n.” Jungkook has the audacity to keep speaking. “You just don’t understand.”

You twist your head to eye him, your jaw tight as you watch him sit on the sofa, eyes cowering away from yours. “You’ll stop talking now.” You tell him as your voice becomes quiet and afraid as well. You’re livid but you speak like you’re hurt.

“Then…” Jungkook pauses, his eyes going all around the living room now before he sighs. “Then I’ll just listen.”

You push your head back in disbelief, “I didn’t ask you to come here so I can talk to you. In fact, I didn’t ask you to come here at all.”

He finally turns his head toward you, his eyes are red and watery and you hate that you hate seeing him on the verge of tears. You watch his throat as you pay attention to the hard way he swallows. “I know. But I had to see you.”

Suddenly, your head starts pounding, a harsh banging from inside your forehead. You quickly let your head fall into your hands when those words keep repeating inside your mind. I know. But I had to see you. I know. But I had to see you. I know. But I had to see you.

You groan into your hands. The pain erupting on all sides of your head. The words repeating over and over, making your ears feel like they’re bleeding. I know. But I had to see you.

“y/n?” You hear Jungkook’s quiet and afraid voice.

I know. But I had to see you.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me…” Jungkook’s eyes are blood shot. You know he’s been drinking again.

“I know.” You mutter, “But I had to see you.”

“Oh.” He stumbles backward, his hand widening his front door to his new, shitty apartment. You feel anger bubbling, because you know he’s drunk. You’re doing everything in your power to keep it together and he’s wasting his time drinking.

“You’ve shut out Jimin.” You tell him, cutting to the chase. “So you don’t know anything, do you?”

“W-What’s there to know? I don’t need them anymore. Also, I was fucking fired.”

You snap your eyes to his as he still stands at his open doorway. “You’re pissing me off, Jungkook.”

“I can do this on my—”

“—They’re closing the case.” You say. “They’re saying he’s…that he’s…” You pause, throat growing drier. “You know.”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook drunkenly shrugs, slamming the door shut, making you flinch. “They’re all wrong, anyway.”

You feel your shoulders growing tenser, your lips in a hard, thin line before they die into a frown. “They’re saying we should hold a funeral.”

Jungkook’s body goes still, his hanging arms at his sides suddenly rise to his face when he rubs his temples. “Excuse me?”

“They want to—”

“Just stop!” He suddenly cries out, voice shrill. You see his eyes growing redder and redder as tears fill them up. “None of you know what you-you’re talking about. Just shut up, all of you!”

You flinch.

Jungkook’s fingers go into his hair when he starts pulling on the strands. “This just isn’t right.” He keeps muttering to himself, “I got this. I got this. I got this.” He starts pacing back and forth in front of his coffee table. “Just stop. Stop talking.”

You stand in silence.

“I said stop talking!”

You watch him unravel.

“Jung—”

Glass breaks across the coffee table. A shattered soju bottle that he’s thrown.

You flinch again.

You take a step back.

Jungkook falls to the floor, crying and yelling at no one. The loss of your son is much worse than you could have imagined. But you knew telling Jungkook about the funeral was going to cause something more serious to unravel. But you didn’t imagine this.

“y/n?” Jungkook voice sounds sober now. “y/n?”

Your head is about to split into sections, the pain so overwhelming.

You lift your face from your hands, your cheeks overflowing with tears. Why did you have to remember that?

“Hey,” Jungkook stands from the sofa and comes closer to you. His hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder but just like in your memory, you flinch. He immediately frowns. “y/n…” He brings his hand back to his body. “Talk to me, I’ll just listen.”

“G-go.” You keep your head low as your eyes stay glued to your lap. “Please just go.”

His hands freeze at his sides, using all of his self-control. Even you can feel how tense his body is, just from the heat that radiates off of it. You’re being serious. He needs to go before you spiral into one of your throbbing headaches that give you a panic attack. The kind you can manage on your own—and prefer to.

“Please, Jungkook…” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m not feeling well now so pl—”

“—Okay.” His fingers curl into hard fists. “Call me if you need anything. Please.” He stands here for another moment, like his feet have become glued to the floor and he’s unable to move. But after a tentative sigh, they finally move. And your ears bleed again at each sound that can be heard. The click of the AC turning off, the small dog whining in your neighbor’s yard, each drip of water dropping from the faucet and finally the whoosh of the front door opening and closing shut. And you finally let go a long, long breath.

Your head hurts and your heart hurts, the memory fresh in your mind. You never imagined to see Jungkook…like that. You barely recognized him. Does he have a drinking problem? Or did? You need to erase these images in your head, or at least scatter something pretty over them. And that’s when you get an idea that you know is pure torture.

One of the boxes from the attic is sat on your living floor, with your bottom plopped right next to it. It’s a box you organized yourself, you can tell. Just a box of intimate memories with your ex-husband. You pull out a letter you’ve read at least six times now…might as well make it seven.

The envelope is pink with little hearts drawn all over it and though it’s only eight years old, it looks like it’s at least 20. The envelope itself is wrinkly with random water stains and the page inside is soft and used like you’ve read this letter a thousand times. Might as well make it a thousand and one.

You slip the paper out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully, the crinkling paper opening up with Jungkook’s handwriting written all over.

April 10 2015

Dear y/n,

Hi it’s me, your boooooyfriend. >.< sorry I’m still getting used to it. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing a letter when I could just call or text you but you seemed to think it was cute in that movie we watched the other day and so Im writing you one too!! Also, I think my peers are thinking Im working really hard on a case. I wish I was but they won’t give me anything good. I know it hasn’t even been a year since I finally landed here in the Investigation sector as a detective but they still treat me like such a rookie…blaaaahhhhh you know this already. The captain seems to think I have potential though. But ya know what? The guys here said the only thing ive done right so far is getting you as a girlfriend hahaha

Maybe they’re right I mean they’re definitely right

I miss you so much

Im sitting here at my desk writing you and its just making me miss you a kabillzillion times more…….i seriously aaaaahhhh im going crazy because I miss you that much

Im so lucky youre so amazing and my favorite person to exist and so pretty so pretty

I know we’ve only been together for a short while but what if I told you I know exactly how I feel about yoooouuuuu huh what if

Ask me about it when I see you tonight

Love,

Jungkook Your cheerios

You read it. Then you read it again. This is the Jungkook you want to remember.

It’s the next day and you’re opening the package you ordered just yesterday. Pulling out a small box, you get it open and unravel the charging cable to the phone you’ve found. Taking a look at the clock, you realize you’re a bit behind. You wanted to get to the café at noon for work but it’s already 15 after. You quickly plug the charger into the wall and get the phone charging. It’s dead so it’ll take a while to get turned on so you decide to leave it here while you head out.

The café is a bit busy today, more people than you’re used to, but thankfully you see an open table. You set up your laptop and get to work. Taking a pause to message Mijoo about needing some guidance if she can meet any of these days. It would be nice to have some help in person. After working for a bit, you can’t help but lift your face from the screen and dart your eyes around the place. No sign of Seokjin today. Not that it means anything but he’s got the kind of warm, reassuring smile that you could use these days.

And just like clockwork, the quiet bell dings when he walks through the café’s front door. He meets your eye immediately and gives you a small nod and the smile you were searching for. You nod back, eyes going back down to the laptop before you take another peak towards Seokjin. He’s walked up to the counter, talking with the young girl that’s always here. After a moment she hands him a box of what you assume are desserts. Maybe he’s giving them to the elderly again.

Then he walks out.

Oh, he isn’t staying today.

That’s okay, you don’t have time to chat with a harmless nice guy anyway. You have work to do. Something to truly get your mind off of everything else you’ve been going through. You think it’s a miracle you have it in you to try every day. In another universe, you might have already gone insane.

After working a little while longer, you pack your things up and head to your car. It’s a sunny day, barely any clouds in the sky and it feels warm. Warm enough to make you forget this coldness that lingers all around you, all inside you.

You start driving home when you remember you’re supposed to pick up a few groceries so you stop by the market first. It’s not too crowded and since you’re in an okay mood, you decide to put in your earphones and walk inside with a pep to your step. You needed zucchini…what else? Bread for sure was on your list. Peanut butter, eggs, oh yeah and some chips for when you get a craving.

You start heading to the aisle with peanut butter when you recognize someone familiar.

“Seokjin?” You mumble his name but he doesn’t hear you. His eyes fully focused on his jams. He stands here, deep in thought before he finally reaches for one.

“Hi.” You say a little louder and he jumps in his spot.

He turns to face you, ears turning red when he sees you. “Hi.” He stares at you dumbfounded for a moment, “I just realized I don’t know your name.” Then he chuckles.

You can’t help but crack a smile, “It’s y/n.”

“Ah, y/n. Yeah, that suits you.” He tells you confidently.

“Does it?”

“Do you usually shop here?” Seokjin gestures around the aisle, “I’ve never seen you before. Or are you…” He suddenly drops his smile and looks serious. “Following me?” Then he breaks into a huge smile before adding, “Dun, dun, duuuun.”

You feel your stomach swirl with something before you shake your head, feeling embarrassed. “No, no! I live around here actually. This is just a coincidence.”

“A coincidence, huh? A lot of those lately.” He gives you another smile, this time more teasing. “We should just meet on purpose, you know.”

You stand here, taken aback by his words. Is he implying meeting intentionally?

He seems to feel your shift. “Unless, unless…” His eyes avert yours now, his ears turning a deeper shade of red. “Sorry. Unless you don’t want to. Maybe you’re already seeing someone.”

You shake your head quickly, “No. I’m…I’m not.” You’re not but it feels wrong to say it. “But I wasn’t assuming…anything. Like, if you were implying a date or something.”

Seokjin pouts his lips before glancing up at the ceiling, “Why not? You would have been right.”

You blink at him, taken aback again. “Oh.”

“I happen to know a pretty great restaurant. Maybe we can not coincidentally meet there?”

He’s…asking you out.

And it pains you because… “I can’t. Sorry,” You look down at your feet before glancing towards the jams. “Umm, I’m kind of going through something and—”

“—Oh.” Seokjin nods his head quickly. “No, no. I understand…you don’t have to explain. I’m kind of going through something too and I know that a good way to get through it is some nice company every now and then.” He gives you a warm smile, all the teasing gone. “I understand you though. So don’t worry but…” He suddenly pats his pants pockets before looking delighted. “In case you change your mind…I’m learning to…how do they kids say…shoot my shot.” He suddenly pulls out a receipt and a pen and scribbles something on it before handing it to you.

His number.

“Just in case!” He cheeses harder.

“I honestly don’t think it’s a big deal.” Misuk looks at you through the camera, her face looking brighter. “It’s just a date!”

“It is a big deal.” You whine again, “I’m in love with someone else and I have a whole lot of mess going on.”

Subin nods her head sympathetically, “That’s true. But I think Misuk means it’s not a big deal because it could be…” She pauses, clearly thinking of the right words. It’s amusing to you to see they might agree on this. “A good thing? A simple thing! A little, you know, fun thing!”

“Exactly!” Misuk drags out the word, “You don’t have to fall in love but you’re so focused on…you know, your memories…that you aren’t living life.”

“Uh,” You begin to defend yourself, “I’m—”

“—Yes, yes.” Misuk waves you off, “You are getting back into work! And that’s good! But you really should start living a normal life again.”

“And…” Subin looks off camera, her eyes looking softer. “It’s kind of the same. You are missing your memories, yes, and I’m so sorry…but 33 year old you was the same. Divorced. And I don’t think you were in any headspace to even think about wanting Jungkook back.” She finishes quietly.

“You wanted nothing to do with him.” Misuk tells you. “So just live a little…you know, just normal things. And who knows, it might help with your memories.”

You sit still for a moment. You’ll admit that you haven’t exactly been living normally. You mostly sit around all day, alone, surrounding yourself with things you don’t understand and torture yourself with memories of Jungkook.

“Anyway, I’ll let you guys know if anything changes.” You chuckle after you focus your eyes on your friends again. “I just got home so I gotta put these groceries ...away" Your eye notices the list lying on the counter and you realize..."Damn, and I forgot the eggs. Anyway, I’ll call later!” You sing out.

“Okay! Bye!”

“Bye!” Subin sings back. And you end the call.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you deserve a little break or something simple and fun. You bite your lip, thoughts still lingering but you decide to reach into your back pocket and pull out the receipt Seokjin gave you. You shake your head quickly but reach for your phone and input the number and press call. You need light in this darkness.

You hate feeling defeated.

Sitting on your sofa, blanket wrapped tightly around you as your hand clenches around this cold, empty and useless device.

The phone has either never been used or was completely wiped. You thought you could torture yourself with more information but you’ve come out of this empty handed. There’s nothing on here. No call history, no text history, no pictures or videos…nothing. You squeeze the phone harder, frustration still building. When your actual phone buzzes.

Your eyes shoot down to your now lit up phone and you drop the useless one to the couch cushion. It might be Subin gushing about this band she’s seeing this weekend. You’ll ignore—

Buzz.

You give in, reaching for your phone and your stomach does its usual uneasy swirling.

Jungkook 9:10pm

How are you feeling?

Jungkook 9:10pm

We don’t have to talk but at least tell me how youre doing…

Your eyes slam shut, the urge to cry too strong. Because you’re hurt. You’re hurting. You’re confused. You’re angry. And you’re sad.

Why are you so weak? You should delete him, block him and throw your whole phone away. Because your phone knows him and you don’t.

But you’re weak because you’re going to text back.

Except Jungkook beats you to it.

Jungkook 9:13pm

Did you get hit with a headache earlier? You okay? Have you seen your doctor lately?

All these questions are giving you different kind of headache.

You 9:13pm

Its fine, Im fine

You lie

Jungkook 9:13pm

Liar

You 9:14pm

Jungkook

You 9:14pm

Do you have a drinking problem?

You press send. You see the bubbles pop up your screen, indicating that he’s typing but they disappear. Then they reappear. And disappear again.

You 9:16pm

Jungkook?

Jungkook 9:16pm

Who told you that?

You feel your shoulders tense.

You 9:16pm

No one told me

You 9:17pm

I just remember when I went to your place…there was a lot of alcohol lying around and the place seemed rough

You 9:17pm

And idk I got thinking. Im not trying to accuse you or anything but…is what I saw…what I think it is?

You send. It’s not a total lie. Not what you’re referring to…but not a total lie.

You stare at the screen but there’s no indication if he’s read your message or not. No typing. Nothing. Your eyes glance at the clock and it reads 9:19pm now. It’s okay. Only two minutes. But why does it feel like eternity?

9:25pm and all you’ve done is sit, tightly wrapped in a blanket on your couch, and stare at your phone screen, touching the screen every time it times out. And still nothing.

But then you see bubbles pop up.

Back straightening, you breathe in and out as your eyes remain on the screen.

He’s been typing for three minutes.

You hold your breath now.

Jungkook 9:28pm

And if it is?

You let out a short breath, disbelief crawling all over your skin that you throw the blanket off of you and stand from the couch. Your memories are reliable.

You feel a sting pierce your eyes but you grit your teeth and hold any tears back. This is just too much for you to accept. You walk into the kitchen, frustration raging inside your body. You step up to the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter before leaning forward, sighing out your anger.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Calming down, you immediately grab a bowl and sniffle to yourself. You’ll just do these dishes and forget all about this.

You take another bowl, the hot water burning your fingers and palms as you absentmindedly scrub it clean.

“Sometimes I think you wash clean dishes at this point.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

You laugh, “Not true.”

“The water is too hot, baby.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, suddenly pecking it softly. “You’re going to melt the skin off your bones.”

You realize he’s right, the water is really hot but you were just lost in thought. Your wedding is in two days. You get out of your thoughts while you set the bowl back into the sink and turn the faucet off. “I’m just—”

“I know.” Jungkook nuzzles his nose into your warm skin. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s nervous between us.”

You sigh, small smile on your face. “I’m not nervous. But I am, a little.”

“I know.”

“Not in a bad way.”

“I know that too.”

“In a…marrying the love of my life, wow life is crazy kind of way.” You dry your hands before twisting in Jungkook’s embrace and you lean in to kiss him. “You probably know what I mean.”

He laughs against your lips, “I would be the one who knows exactly what you mean.”

Your lips twist into a sheepish smile, “I missed you today.”

“I missed you more.”

You roll your eyes, a teasing smile forming now. “Liar.”

He looks surprised for a second before rolling his own eyes, “I’m serious.”

“You’re only serious about work nowadays.” You tease him, and you are mostly teasing. It’s only lately he’s been zeroed in on a case.

But Jungkook frowns, “It isn’t going well.” He admits to you. “I don’t know that we’ll get this one.”

“You will.” You lean forward more and nudge your nose against his, “You are the best there is.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Unfortunately I’m still in the ‘proving myself’ phase.”

“Here too.” You continue to tease him, “Still deciding if this wedding is happ—”

“—Heeeeey, don’t joke like that.” Jungkook nudges his nose against yours now, “Tell me I’m the best here too.”

Your hands trail down his chest, eyes focusing on his. “You are.”

“I wish Jimin would tell me that too.” He laughs a little but you know he’s serious. You take his hands in yours.

“You guys are new at being partners. Give it time, babe.”

“He hates me.” Jungkook sighs, “He thinks I mess everything up. And honestly, I can’t blow this one, y/n. The captain believes in me, which is good but my own partner doubts me.”

You understand this is hard for Jungkook to accept.

“Listen…” You give his hands a squeeze. “This is your first big one, right? Take it slow and I know you won’t get flustered like the last one.”

He immediately drops his hands from yours, “I can’t get like how I was with the last one.” Jungkook takes a step away from you, “This one is way too serious…the men I’m dealing with, y/n…you have no idea. I can’t mess this up.”

“Baby…” You feel bad for bringing up the last case he took with Jimin. He got too involved emotionally and when things didn’t end up well for the victim…”It’s okay. You have me to talk about this with and—”

“—But I don’t. I’m legally not allowed to. I got in trouble with sharing so much last time and…fuck,” Jungkook pauses. Closes his eyes slowly before taking a step forward and reaching for your hands again. “This is not what we need to be talking about right before our wedding. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You give his hands another squeeze. “We share our lives. With or without marriage, right?”

“I only wanna talk about us.” He breathes out softly, his lips inching closer to yours. “Let’s focus on you and me.”

And your skin is burning again. It’s on fire. Too much fire, it hurts.

And that’s when you realize you’re still here at your kitchen sink, hot lava rushing to your skin, burning you as you hold the bowl you were cleaning.

You take a deep breath, taking a step back from the sink when you slam your eyes shut and let out a loud groan. You don’t even flinch when the sound of glass hits the floor because you’ve thrown the bowl. You don’t care.

Another memory.

And it seems they’re all out of order.

Another bead of sweat dribbles down the side of Jungkook’s face, rolling right off his skin. And another miserable night. He gently throws his head back against the bathroom wall, his hairline drenched from hour two of hurling in the toilet. He’s drank too much again. Maybe some bad food poisoning in there. But even still, he knows he’s drank too much.

He isn’t abusing the alcohol, really. Not lately. But he knows what it can do to him. He hates it. He hates himself.

He hates this existence.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut before he groans to himself, knocking his head back a few more times. What is he doing?

He misses you.

He wants to make things right.

How?

Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before trying to stand from the floor. He’s wobbly but he manages. He’s tired and he isn’t sleeping and he can’t because he knows you’re not. This is how he feels like he’s with you, the only real support he can give.

He looks at himself in the mirror, his tired eyes staring back at him. He wants to tell that guy to fuck off, for some reason. He wants to scoff at him and offer him no sympathy. Jungkook wants to raise his hands to that man’s throat and squeeze. He wants to swear at him and curse him. His mouth twists and his eyes grow teary and he sighs. Because all he can do is cry for him.

His head snaps up when the bathroom counter vibrates from his phone. Someone’s texted.

Unknown Number

Its me

Buzz.

Unknown Number

We need to talk

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkooks fics #Kim Namjoon #Kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #Kim taehyung #our time chapter 7

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adoregojo · 4 months

Text

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

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fairyhaos · 6 months

Text

how seventeen react to their s/o's grandma hobbies

requested by anon!

masterlist

seungcheol

my man goes bird watching with you. does he get a little embarrassed when you deck out in full bird-watching gear and peer through your binoculars at the trees while making fascinated noises? yeah, but he also finds it rather endearing. knows nothing about birds, and doesn't even try learning bc he knows he'll be hopeless at it anyway, so he's sitting next to you for hours with no clue what's going on. but at the end of it, you're packing up with a bright beam on your face, delighted that cheol came with you, and honestly it makes it all so, so worth it

jeonghan

see, here's the thing. he's not allowed to tease you for your countless puzzles, and you're not allowed to tease him for his countless lego sets. it's a mutual agreement. sometimes, you'll have days where you both sit down with your respective crafts, poring over them individually, sometimes with music on, often in silence. and then jeonghan will bring up some interesting thing he heard the other day, and the both of you will start gossiping like old ladies (or teenage girls?) the entire time, and honestly, those times are the highlights of your day

joshua

he's banned from using your yarn or your knitting needles for anything ever, because one time he somehow stabbed your couch cushions and shredded them to bits. (you're still now sure how that happened. he won't tell you.) but sometimes, he'll see you knitting in bed and smile, before slipping off somewhere and returning with his guitar, and those are the softest nights that remain ingrained in your memory, where you knit stupidly tiny socks for joshua and he serenades you with 'sunday morning' on loop

junhui

honestly, he's just utterly fascinated. several of your cross-stitching projects are stored in the fancy glass cabinet in your living room, and sometimes you'll catch him staring at them when he thinks you're in your room, wide-eyed in wonder. he saw you making all of these pieces, saw you make every single one of those stitches, but he's still so amazed at how beautiful the end product is. you gifted him an intricate piece of a moon and flowers for his birthday, and he still calls it the most precious thing he owns

hoshi

this man takes your collection of tiny european spoons very seriously. seungkwan teases him, saying that you've turned him into a grandma too, but he ignores the younger guy because your spoons are important to you, so they're important to him too. polishes them for you when you're away. asks for updates on your spoons while he's away on tour. helps name each and every spoon, and when he comes back from going abroad, he greets you with a grin and a kiss and a new spoon for your collection

wonwoo

??? he's so confused bc your gardening hobby does Not sound very grandma-ish to him, no matter what you say. you were initially rather awkward, very shy when telling him that you really loved gardening, but he supports u and thinks that it's such a nice hobby. wonwoo has very un-green fingers, so he always watches you tend to your garden from a good few feet away, but he can't help but smile at how earnestly you work, beaming so brightly the entire time and it's so obvious how much you love gardening

woozi

he never sees you do sudokus unless you're sitting on the couch in his studio, biting your nail and waiting for him to finish up so you can go home together. he just thinks it's really sweet, actually, and the idea of you doing the sudoku while he's agonising over his latest composition is something that he can't think of for too long because then he gets distracted by how adorable he thinks that is. you've fallen asleep over your sudoku too many times to count, and when you wake up, woozi feigns innocence to how your latest grid has suddenly magically filled itself

minghao

drinking tea isn't a fucking grandma hobby, kwon soonyoung, it's called being educated. both of you like drinking tea, going through tea ceremonies when you're both exhausted, taste testing different types of tea and commenting on the different notes and fragrances you can taste from them. he met you while on a tea tour around asia, and since then, the two of you just clicked so well, and he loves sipping sakura tea in the evenings and reminiscing on your first meeting, all those years ago

mingyu

fucking!! loves!! everything you knit for him!! the socks you knitted for him are his fluffiest sleeping socks. he Only wears the scarf you knitted for him during the winter months. one time, you gifted him a knitted sweater for his birthday and it instantly became his statement piece that he wore everywhere until it finally grew too threadbare and you had to make him a new one. the gentle clacking of your knitting needles on a saturday evening is the most relaxing sound in the world, and he's fallen asleep on your shoulder while you knit countless times

dokyeom

he has, admittedly, fallen asleep more than a handful of times while sitting next to you on the sofa as you indulge in your guilty pleasure: tv shows on antiques. he understands that it's something you find very fascinating and very interesting, but ten minutes in his eyes are getting droopy but nonono baby he's not falling asleep! he's just gonna… rest… his eyes… but then he eventually ends up dozing on your shoulder. he likes listening to you talk about your favourite episodes, though, the fondness colouring his lips as you gesture animatedly, eyes bright

seungkwan

the highlight of his sunday morning is sitting at the table with two cups of coffee ready, twiddling his thumbs and staring out of the window, waiting for you to burst in through the front door, coming back from your daily walk with the newspaper in your hands and slamming the crossword down in front of him. he loves poring over them with you, and sure, maybe he teases you about this very grandma-like hobby, but you tease him back because he's literally here doing them with you, isn't he?

vernon

supports you in your dream to own all of the most grandma-style cardigans in the entire world. that's it. he has no other opinion. he's pretty chill with it, and don't listen to what minghao says,babe, 'cause he personally thinks that the purple and orange zigzag cardigan with aquamarine dots is the most stylish cardigan of your entire collection. sometimes unironically steals your cardigans to wear himself, because they're all so soft and so comfy and they smell like you so when he's at work, he can feel like you're there with him too <3

chan

you swear, your tomato plants love your boyfriend more than they love you, their actual owner. ever since you admitted to your boyfriend that you have a part of an allotment where you grow various fruits and veg, he's come to visit your babies and honestly, you've never seen your tomatoes flourishing as much as they are right now. does he think you're like an elderly person for tending so solemnly to some plants? yeah. but he can't exactly talk, because he loves your plants, and you two literally have skits where you pretend to be an elderly couple literally every day, so it's nothing out of the ordinary at all

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enbesbians · 5 months

Text

‘LUMIÈRE (light)’

artistic obsessive! ellie x in love! reader

cw: knife play, obsessive! ellie, blood play, stalker! ellie, oblivious! reader, fingering (r! receiving), tribbing, nipple play if you squint

MINORS DNI

summary: ellie is an odd girl… she likes odd things and does odd stuff. her obsessiveness and possessive nature is too much to grasp but you can’t help yourself but needing a taste of her torture. her rebellion and outlook on the world was attractive, passing through every red flag she possibly had with a salty teared kiss. she was the light in a room filled of chipped paint and dirtied tile— her blade carving the prettiest of pictures that you seemed to love on the thick of your skin. ‘hang them up on the wall, let the world see… you are mine and always will be’

a/n: warning if you don’t like blood play and knife play… do not proceed. this was too much, ill admit, but i really wanted to grasp the insanity ellie has for the reader. this isn’t proofread so this might be all over the place and have a multitude of mistakes but let’s not pay attention to that… i hope you end up enjoying nonetheless. (i also made the mistake of referencing ellie’s room as yours… just forget that happened)

no one told you in the beginning ellie already knew who you were. she knew your name, she knew that you worked down the busy strip of the city where only cute little old women would buy brooches for their dresses and fluffy scarfs, she knew that you lived approximately twenty minutes away on foot and five by car. you didn’t know that you had already been drawn on many of the pages in her sketchbook before she said hello, lying saying that she drew it after the fifth ‘accidental’ meeting.

to be this oblivious was a skill and to be this good at stalking was impressive, it was like a new profound profession. ellie was good at being odd like this— she never questioned her own antics, thinking that whatever she did was in good faith. she just worked off her needs by impulse. the first time you complimented her thick brown jacket that she placed on the counter to buy, she got a real good look at you. that tired stare, forced to be kind after the repetitive small talk you’d give every customer. in some ways, she knew that it was fake— your ‘hello’ and ‘have a good day’ had nothing but boredom laced within each syllable— but she couldn’t get enough of how beautiful you were. you were a light that she needed to obtain in her darkness, so she took it upon herself to study you.

many times she’d come into the store and wouldn’t even buy anything— wearing hats and beanies and even her roommates clothes to hide the fact that it could be her but you didn’t pay attention even to the regulars who’d come almost every day. she learned your favorite kinds of music while you spoke with a coworker, she learned your favorite color and what you liked to eat after a long shift. she took mental notes and kept them in memory for as long as she could hold them.

she’d watch you from across the street, seeing how you’d struggle to lock the door during closing hours. she noticed how angry you got when it wouldn’t work or if you had left the keys inside, all to open the door’s gate and repeat each step. calculated and smart, making the first official meet seeming as though it was all coincidental, saying all the right words, mentioning all your favorite things, loving how your eyes beamed with excitement thinking that you and ellie had been similar in many ways no one else had.

the connection that built off that first meet was powerful. ellie played her cards extremely well making each encounter better than the last, her presence now seen knowing that you didn’t mind her random pop ins to your job, you encouraged it and looked forward to seeing that weird auburn haired girl and her raspy laugh.

after a few months, you took her to your house, cooking spaghetti that you had learned from the internet which ended up too bland and too watery, forgetting the bread in the oven that was now too crispy to enjoy, apologizing over and over that you had messed it up. ellie didn’t care, she adored how hard you tried to impress her. the noodles twirling against her silver fork that had flowers carved into it’s handle, rolling her tongue against her lips with eyes that showed her need of you. she took you to your bedroom, where the sauce of the pasta had vanished and replaced itself with the warm folds of your messy slit.

you’d explore the inside of her mouth, tongue tasting of beer and fingers of left over bread and parmesan cheese. her lips would explore the flower of your labia of the thump of your clit, dressing it with her sweet salvia and drunken words. she sucked your cunt deeply, fingers digging into the inner of your thighs with her nose tickling against your pubic bone. then she laid on the soft indent of your comforter, her hips fucking up into your face with conviction, hands buried in the back of your head as she moaned your name over and over again.

ellie was obsessed and so were you.

time worked on her side and the way you followed her made her feel invincible. you fell for her charm, the way she talked about art so eloquently and the expanse of her taste in music mixing in with your own, playing the stings of her new guitar she bought at the old record and instrument shop down the way. you fell for her odd way of speaking, the numerous ‘ums’ and abrupt laughs between her words. awkward and fantastical, hyper yet calm. scratching the back of her neck and picking at the skin of her nailbeds. you fell for her love for weed and the scent that carried on in her skin.

she dressed in clothes, weirdly put together, hanging off her body with its interesting style, looking on the brink of disintegration. they were distressed, faded, but put in a fashionable way that would look like utter shit on others. the peak of elastic from her boxers shown as she stretched, her toned abdomen crafted. her worn converse that seemed to be each pair she owned— black, red and blue, all reaching the end point of being at a functional wear. she made it look sexy, her rebellious and don’t give a fuck attire caught your attention. it brought you in.

she wouldn’t let anyone interfere. kindly asking who people were after you seemed a little to excited of their presence when theyd walk in the shop or if you had texted someone a little too long with a smile resonating on you lips. you found it cute, endearing even, not knowing that a ball of fury dropped at the center of her gullet. she’d find them, watch them, seeing how pretty the could be in the sight of your vision, knuckles whitening as she fought the urge to pound them in the center of their face. she wanted to watch them bleed from their noses or see the vessels of their eyes pop. she wanted to see them scared, she wanted them to know who she was and what you were to her. she hadnt though, she needed to act smart. she needed you as hers, without the interruption of any other. she asked you to be her partner in which you agreed to before she had even finished her sentence. and from then, she felt confident. she was yours and you were hers.

slowly, her true colors showed. the gentle shade of what you thought was her color was now a red. the anger she always had within came to the surface. her obsessive desire played in the form of her words and the tone of her voice and the pounds of her thrusts. she fucked you like she hated you, yelled at you like she despised you, touched you like she loved you. the fear of losing her bottled you up and made you sick to the point of missing multiple days from work, calling her over and over just for her to sit and stare at her phone as if she wanted to teach you a lesson only for her to be two buildings down. she needed to keep tabs, it was her own obligation. her questioning on your friends were now more rough and irritable, hating the smile she sought out for from first meet and only wanting it directed at her.

she took pictures, so many of them. polaroids hung on the chipped wall of her art room that she finally let you see, noticing her odd behavior and interest in you was a tad more than normal. her artwork had been of you, the blotches of blues, reds and yellows implementing how she felt in that very moment her brush slashed the canvas. it would’ve been smart to stop whatever was happening between you both but you were too far gone. you couldn’t get enough of her. she was just that good… just that additive… just that possessive. she owned your mind and your body and all the red flags that screamed for release had been scribbled away by the dull tip of her sketching pencil.

you said sorry so many times and she yelled… so many fucking… times.

her fingers vibrating deep into your cavern, it’s tips prodding devilishly in your walls, grunting all the names of people who called you pretty, telling you that you were hers and hers only. her tongue slivered down into your throat, singing her sensual cry as she pleaded you to never leave. ellie was a piece of work, and you couldn’t find all the pieces to her shattered vase but you still tried to tape it all together instead of using glue. she was too stubborn, too headstrong to be controlled, to be tamed.

you fell in love with her nonetheless. framing her devotion to you like a golden plaque. you loved how her pupils dilated when she stared at you, no matter how angry or how lustful they may have looked. she asked you why you were so happy even though her face stood at a permanent scowl, though she had a shadow rimming around her aura, red like crimson, hot like hell, you’ve fallen for the landscape of the scattered freckles that dotted on her cheeks and down her neck. it was bittersweet, the push and pull and dull ruinous bickering of unwarranted jealousy. you spoke like broken lovers, bodies in a celestial light fated to be doomed if only you hadn’t been so blind.

the collision of her character had you in an awe, not wanting to miss a second of hypocrisy knowing that if she told you her eyes color was brown though they were green, you’d believe her. you yearned to be close to her, trusting her rage as if that was what love was. no one has ever made you feel as alive as she had. no one made you feel as pretty as she did. you’d think of the times she made love to you, her legs intertwined with yours as her cunt rolled down onto yours, lips feathering around your ankle as she moaned her addiction towards you. you gave into her, bucking your hips into hers, needing her warmth as close as possible, needing to be inside her flesh and wear it like that brown coat she bought the first time she locked eyes with you. you were enticed with her spanks and the sting that lingered against your flesh. how her nimble fingers clenched around your throat, growling at how good your pussy felt and how pretty you looked wearing fear and arousal. you were infested with the hallucinations of her far from perfect personality, hearing the misplaced strings and untuned guitar— no matter what she played and how she played it, it felt right. she was perfect.

one argument led to separation, planned successfully as she distanced herself for weeks in which you thought was the final end. all messages that were scent had been read from her, as well as every call was denied. she thought you were fucking your coworker— the busty older woman who often brought cookies, calling all youthful people ‘baby’ as a welcoming gesture. she saw how she touched your shoulder and how you giggled at her jokes. her jaw clenched and her eyebrows stayed knitted as she thought of the worst even though in the back of her mind she knew how pathetically in love you were with her.

you missed her and you wanted her. you missed the smell of her college, the stench of weed and the sight of her breasts and how they fit so perfectly in your hands. you missed her smile and her boyish style of clothes you’d hold onto in the dead of the night.

she gave in, asking you to come over since her roommate was going to be gone for the weekend to stay over a family’s house for something she didn’t mention. you agreed a second after you viewed the text, pleading your manager to leave early that worked in your favor.

it was cold in her apartment, the thin white curtains washing like a quiet wave against the glow of the sun that sunk through— it’s beams coloring the floor orange and yellow like one of her gouache palettes. no light had been turned on, relying on the autumns afternoon sunset to bounce off the depth of her cheeks and the green of her irises. she exhaled a heavy breath and then came a thin film of bitter smoke escaping from her nostrils, brushing at the upper of her lip. you stared at her, inhaling it’s stench you hated but loved coming from her. your eyes glassy as you felt this would be the absolute end of what you and ellie had transpired and what ellie planned all along.

“so.” she sighed, “ya gonna tell me why you look like you’re about to cry?” her voice deep and empty of empathy, yet it sounded so sexy the way it croaked from her throat.

“i don’t want to lose you.” you choked, nearly letting the tear fall down your cheek.

“stop fucking up.”

“im trying.” you admitted, not knowing what you should do or what could’ve been done to prevent her from being so angry.

“you’re mine you know that? all those people who try can’t get to you. do you understand that?” her body now turning towards you. strand of her auburn hair running in between her eyes, “no one has what you and i have… no one can take that away… they don’t have the chance, the willpower, the ability to be me and anyone who has any fragment of what i am. im the only one you need… im the one who loves you. who can fuck you better than any woman could ever… face it. i know you know it.”

you stared at her, eyes staggering as you gulped every word she spat which felt like a lump struggling to be let down. her words was harsh and rough like a midwinter breeze. she was so beautiful to you, your pupils must’ve formed hearts knowing that ellie viewed you in a way that made you feel like a prize. it was true, she was better than any girl you’ve ever been with— she kissed you and no matter how long you’ve been without, you could taste the mint chapstick left over the skin of your lips.

“im all yours… no one else’s.” you breathed, “only yours ellie.” loving the way her voice sounded in your cry.

her unoccupied hand slid against your burning hot cheek. she kissed you. the lust that was now heightened is so desperately trying to be held with a simple press of lips. such an innocent kiss, with now her lips moving and yours following. sounds of cupped kisses as your lips shyly mold in with one another— her head tilting to it’s side, nose tickling against the side of yours. it picked up its pace, drowning in the movement of her tempo, finding yourself in the center of her bed.

your body quivered involuntarily under ellie’s touch, hovering you with her toned arms beside your head. the familiar bliss of her invading your personal bubble taking you by complete astonishment, a pleasant one at that. your tongue swirled around in her mouth, tasting the bitter flavor left on her taste buds, her mouth with much more expertise and experience, you’d known she was a woman of many hidden talents— your mind was fuzzy and floating to a graceful blur as your oxygen wholly snatched itself from your lungs. pulling away momentarily, an obvious string of saliva connected both of your swollen lips as eyes met, she was about to speak again yet found no need in words when the language of your bodies expressed the heat of this very moment too perfectly. she licked your lips, like a cat steadily lapping water, inhaling the bottom of your lip heating the familiar hum of her moan.

each suck, she looked at you, studying the way your lashes flickered open, chest heaving as she gave you a look of massive incredulity whilst shaking her head as a small fit of giggles escaped her mouth, silently snaking her hand around your throat. her knee pressed in between your legs, grinding down at it’s jean as her lips feathered yours, watching you roll your hips.

“such a pretty baby…” she murmured.

infested with carnality, day and night. ellie’s mind couldnt escape; as if it was the horrid and angry deep sea, crashing against the softness of the hot sand, in need of something to fix prurience, her wants which was you. to be fair, it was noticeable how you both operated whenever with each other. you wanted her just as badly as she wanted you. anyone could just sense it, feel it, cut it in the thickening air of their razor nails. the body languages, the way you both spoke, the way your eyes stared extreme intent.

“ellie…” you purred, hand riding along the dip of her shoulder blade, hands finding its way in her warm strands.

she called your name back.

the tingling sensation rose within your body, almost electrifying your whenever you heard your name being called from those pretty pale red lips. just thinking about her got you so worked up— altering her breathing, letting it become staggered and desperate.

she drew her eyebrows together at any given second you felt pleasure from her knee as if she could feel what you felt. just from your voice alone made her want to pin you down, even through the phone at every nightly phone call whenever she wasn’t angry, or when you both met… it took everything in her to tame herself and not pounce onto you. yet her eyes didn’t lie— how they looked at a squint, with a devilish dark aura, taking in each and every time you’d fumble over your words which made her blush a bright shade of red.

the air was hot and heavy despite the chill from the window, “ride it..” she grunted, moving along your grinds, feeling the heat weave through your pants onto hers. she’d slip in words she knew you’d like, calling you her ‘good girl’ from time to time. it never failed to make you shrivel up. ‘so pathetic’, she thought, enjoying you and your weak ability to hold yourself together around her. how would you manage if she used you as a plaything, diving deep into her demented mind and make you body feel disgusting as well as beautiful. would you be ready for that? she’s already given you a taste.

“you… make me… want to use you, like you’re nothing… but fuck you like you’re everything.” the words coming out slurred and meaningful. her eyes gulping the color of your eyes. she moved her body, you whining at the empty feeling of her knee. leveling her face at your legs, she pressed kisses starting at your ankle and to your knee, moving her lips as her tongue would peak through, letting spit form and absorb in your jean until she reached your waist.

“please…” you whimpered, a smile curling at her lips, fingers making its way to undo the clasp of your pants, yanking it down which made you gasp at the sudden movement. she continued her kisses, the cold inhale of her breath washing against your skin as she pressed her lips at the lining of your underwear, to your thigh and down your calf before she ran her tongue up again meeting with the fabric of your shirt.

she pressed her face into your stomach, raising her head as it dragged all the way up your torso, inhaling the sweet smell of your detergent as well as the soap that coated your skin, until she found your neck, taking a bite without much warning— feeling the flesh sink between the spaces in her teeth. ‘so soft’, she thought, letting her lips latch and suck roughly, as she used her unoccupied hand to pull your body closer to her, resting herself in between your legs once again. her tongue rippled and rolled against the aching bitten part of your neck, popping herself off before she pressed a kiss at the hem of your ear, “am i allowed to whatever i want with you?” she whispered, raising the same joint towards her mouth and inhaling it, pressing more kisses at the side of her face, allowing its smoke to slip through each release. “am i allowed to mark you, bruise you… use my fingers to fuck you? can you be my little bitch, princess?”

“do everything to me ellie…”

her eyes dilated, feeling her stomach drop at hearing her name being called yet again. something about it, drove absolutely her mad and it only was because of your voice— so gentle and sweet, whining out for her, calling out to her. oh were you not the cutest little thing she’s ever seen. you was her meat, the body that will now feel the pain and pleasure of her love, slinging you around like a dumb little doll.

cocking an eyebrow, her face glared at you, as if she hated your guts which wasn’t the case. images popped in her head of many ways she can fuck you up, to turn this ‘innocent’ being into a sobbing mess. this was the opportunity she yearned for, and possibly you did to.

the contrast from her just staring at you to her hurriedly hanging the joint at her lips, sliding her hand into her pants pocket and grabbing you by the throat, turning you around and yanking you into her embrace. your back against her chest with the hand that was on your throat, now in her pocket, coming out with a shiny object in hand— it was a pocket knife, made of real silver, etched with thorns and roses at its wooden handle. she placed it in front of your face, hearing the loud sound as her thumb allowed its blade to show, “so much trust in me… you could be in danger you know.” her joint dangling as she spoke, smoke puffing at almost each word while her body pushes closer into yours.

“i could really hurt you, you know?” her voice dark, demented and laced with a smile, the tip of the blade now at your neck, pressing it into your skin, just enough to feel it’s point but not go through the first layer of your skin. “…but look at you, such a dumb… pretty little girl, wanting me to fuck you, like you’re worth nothing but the dirt underneath my shoes.” it came clear, by the sound of her voice that it was full of hunger, the deep breaths in between her words, the groan that vibrated in her throat, her hips, grinding against your backside.

she dragged the knife down, gasping at the indention of your skin from the blade, wondering how you’d react if a bead of blood were to splash on the silver blade and run down your neck, as if a beast bit you. she knew how much you idolized her and she took advantage of that.

abruptly, she let the side of her blade rest at the bottom of your jaw, making you lift your head a little higher, maybe as a reflex or a safety mechanism— either way it didn’t matter. taking the joint from her lips and cooing in your ear, making your body sway left and right, hearing the awkwardly loud shift in clothes rubbing against each other.

“you’re mine.”

you breathed heavily, not knowing that ellie had this side to her. maybe you’ve always seen it. the way she fucked you in the past was some reflection towards it. she had this glimmer of danger that rose your orgasm to serendipity.

“say it.” she whispered, her nose dragging along your cheek, sighing out a moan. “say. it…”

“im yours…” you exhaled.

“no… no no no… louder. say it… say it louder.” her words breathless, letting open mouthed kisses to gently press onto your skin.

“im yours ellie!”

she wanted your underwear off, loving how quick you were to obey. she decided to help you a little by quickly using her knife and angling it with its cloth, slicing its side and letting the loud sound of her blade fill the quiet room, exposing your cunt, having her blade rest yet again at your neck.

“mmh… what a good girl.” laughing sinisterly. she began to draw lightly with the blade with some pressure on the flesh of your neck, before she pushed the tip a little harder into your skin, seeing a pretty bubble of ruby crimson form. she tended to it quick, seeing the blood run so prettily down your soft skin as she latched her lips onto it, sucking sloppily. you tasted so sweet, just as she imagined. pulling back she had slight remnants of your blood against her lips, with the slow run of the blood form at the small pierce at your neck.

“why must every part of you taste so good? do you know why, princess…? answer me… you know i love your voice… i could… i could just cum hearing it.” her face still close to your neck, spreading her tongue onto the wound again and letting it drag up your skin to your cheek, mixing your blood and her spit. “don’t worry, ill fuck you fairly quickly, i just like to play with my treasures, that’s all.”

you didn’t know if it was the nerves or the fact that she had full advantage of your body but something made you close your eyes shut and prepare yourself for what was about to happen. you were ashamed to admit how excited you were and how you’d let her do anything she wanted even if she were to hurt you more than she already did. ellie intimidated you. you felt as if you made one wrong move, she’d ruin you and you were willing. arousal and fear is what coursed through your body and you craved more. you’ve never felt so alive, the adrenaline puddling all throughout.

her taunting words went straight to your head went your clit. you were in pure bliss. you kept backing your hips against her crotch loving how she rutted against your ass. you felt like a needy whore and it made your gut bubble with embarrassment.

letting go of your body, she witnessed how weak you were as you fell down onto the bed. the steps of her shoes colliding with the floor as she walked around the perimeter of the bed, inhaling her loved smoke, watching you, grinding into the bed’s comforter like an art piece in a gallery. she laughed, a playful type giggle that made her throw her head back and bend at the knees until she met with your face, “oh baby… look at you… i barely touched you and you already look… like… this.” pointing at you with the knife, twirling it by it’s handle.

“i dont… it’s cause… youre… you’re…”

“awe baby… you’re stuttering… ellie doesn’t understand you, speak up. i know how loud you can get… come on pretty, speak up for me. use those lips like you use them to suck on my clit…”

leveling at eye contact, she inhaled and blew the hazing smoke at your face, extending her tongue and pressing its burning end against it, hearing it sizzle out. flicking it somewhere in the room. she still held her tongue out, showing the left over ash on it before swallowing. gripping your head, she yanked it from where it lay, your lips already ajar, abruptly spitting her marijuana taste into your mouth. “you look pretty disgusting.” the last word coming out as a snarl.

“isn’t this room so pretty…” her eyes scanning around listening to your whimpers, “maybe we should paint it red?” broadcasting the same knife that she used her before. “lay on your back.” you listened.

with her now in front of your knees, without a thought she pressed the blade against your thigh, letting its tip prod at your skin, running it down but not too deep, she always remembered that. blood started to pour from its light mark and she immediately started to kiss it, her lips coating themselves with a more pigmented color. she sucked as if he was hungry, savoring the sweet and metallic taste of your blood. using her other hand, spreading your legs further apart and seeing your wet slick expand and bubble.

the blade now barely glazing your skin, fell at your crotch, pressing it against your clit as she drew it up and down, your eyes withering at how cold the blade had been. “do you see that?” she laughed, seeing how your slick started to coat the silver.

she pressed a kiss from the mark of your all the way up onto your pubic bone as she stared at you with amusement, taking the knife away and setting it down beside you on the bed. your body twitched and turned, the tingling sting from your neck and thigh throbbing and wrapping it’s pain in a form of pleasure.

“what fun would it be, if i were the only one to taste?” she crawled on top of you, hand first pressing onto the seeping blood at your thigh, letting it slide against you. her fingers lightly covered, pressing the pads of them to your lips in which you wrapped your mouth around. it was gentle, sucking them in a bobbing motion as you took in your own taste— one that ellie fell drunk for. she couldn’t help herself, the view of you was too much, she let her lips press against yours in an opened mouth kiss, her tongue prodding it’s way into your mouth— she moved her lips slowly, humming a sweet hum into your throat. she never wasted a second to devour you within a kiss, using her time to play and tease you.

pulling back she saw the strings of spit connect both of your swollen lips, admiring at the fact that you didn’t interject her ways. you’re so pretty, she admired you, patting your face with loving stroke before slapping your cheek without a say, her moans mixing in with your shock. “oh god i love the way you react to me.”

she loved to see how you took her infliction— the facial expression, the sounds, any source of feedback, she’d take and cherish. with the way that your body talked to her, it showed how weak you allowed to portray yourself. your body spread and sunken into the puffed comforter. the sound of her breathing, in need of air but too focused on the richness of the blood and spit that smeared on your lips. her tongue tasting sweet with its intoxicating spit, sucking viscously on the flesh of your bottom lip, pulling it back.

“you’re insane…” your words wore heavy on her ears, unable to hide the smile that formed on her lips. the sound so small, weakened but clear. you was turned on and your slick seeped out from your cavern. you gave the same look with those bright doe eyes just like the first time ellie sucked your pussy. those pretty eyes stared and pierced her right in her chest. with your ability to take the pain that you were receiving, continuing to let her destroy you, that gave her the feeling of pure delight, fueling her egotistical mindset that settled itself with anger, desire and eroticism. her body burned, like the room had set itself on fire and it’s flame feathering against her skin— your body heat and hers combining into one making beads of sweat litter her forehead.

“oh… i know.” admitted that at times she indeed was. ellie was one to fall deep when it came to pleasuring activities, and most of the time it’s focused in a conjoined thing, other times only purely for your enjoyment— wanting you to concave into her submission, believe her stalkerish ways was natural and that whatever she did was right, not wrong.

the use of her knife and how deep she let it cut, she knew that the scar would stay longer than it should. the bite on your neck will bruise with a pretty mixture of deep shades red while your body would paint itself with delicate darkened browns from the force of her hands grabbing and slapping. you were now her canvas— an artist starved for her creation, her light, her venus.

the dark haired woman lifted herself up, her body now situated between your spread legs as she took a good look at the figure that lay before her.

fear. want. dread. attraction. panic. admiration.

oh yes, this is she wanted, this is what she wanted to see. “my pretty girl, my stupid little bitch.” her voice playful like a drunken woman full of giggled joy. taking off her shirt, she exposed her top half, her hardened nipples poking from her small breasts. she started to take off both her jeans and boxers which then showed her full body. her wet slick dripping slowly from her, dribbling down her leg, as her clit twitched.

“are you ready for me, angel? do you want my pussy against you?” she asked. you nodded. “i want to make your pussy so sloppy… feel it squirt… or maybe even cream against my clit. i want to hear it baby, will you let me? hmm…? is this pussy mine? is this pretty cunt mine?”

you could see the hair sticking to her forehead and the sides of her neck, the tips of her fingers rubbing up in between your folds. you gasped, hands holding onto the sheets, lifting your head as you looked at the way the veins bulged prettily at her hand and forearm.

“my pussy is yours…”

“that’s a good girl..” her slapping your pussy, purposefully aiming for her clit, the sting rummaging through your body. “im going to fill you up and make you so full of cum it’ll make you go brain dead.”

the beat of her heart, pounding against her chest and her fingers twitched against your cunt, gathering spit and letting its liquid fall down on it. the amount of eagerness ellie had was considerably concerning. at any given moment, she would probably pass out from the adrenaline— like her insides were overworking themselves, and that was proof it wasn’t going to die out any time soon.

she slapped it again, her spit splattering. “oh baby… look at how cute your pussy is when i slap it… how it moves.” in awe at how it jiggled cutely, slapping again and again, watching your wet cunt shake. “my pretty pussy… look at it…fu…ck…” her voice staggering as he pulled up your clit head with her thumb and letting strings of spit fall down onto it, mixing itself with your juices.

her unoccupied fingertips pressed themselves in her thighs, sliding them down just enough for a little of his nail to scrape against the blood coated flesh. the hand placed at your cunt found it’s way into your opening, starting with one, then a second. her wrist tightened as she thrusted up into you, your back arching at the pace she went. your pussy squelched, it’s sound loud and disgusting. the sounds of your moans bounced against the bedroom walls, feeling her fingers being gripped each time she’d thrust them outwards.

“come on baby… feel me.” she grunted.

she didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. her knuckles deep, her fingers curled, hungry in the bliss that she shared. the quickening of your orgasm greeted you with intensity, your toes curling as your stomach hallowed at every moan. “it feels so good… it feels so good… it feels so fucking good.”

the tips of her curling fingers rutting at your good spot, your body tensing at how she abused your pussy so good, a warm wash fell at the start of your insides then all over your body as you squeezed yourself against her fingers, a splash of your squirt pooling and falling every time her fingers fell outward, “squirt on my fucking fingers baby, that’s a good fucking girl.” it fell everywhere, staining the bed with a light white ring wrapping around her knuckles.

slipping her fingers out, she quickly placed them in her mouth, sucking the leftover cum you gifted her as your body shook from its orgasm.

she didn’t wait, she didn’t care to. her bottom half hovered yours, a leg wrapping above your thigh as she angled her cunt on top of your sloppy one. whirling her hips around, she felt the flowery skin of your labia and clit kiss hers, a loud guttural moan escaping her mouth.

her hips moved, grinding against your cunt with conviction as your body jerked with each movement. you loved this, how nasty you felt at all the liquids that had been mixed all over your skin.

she grabbed the knife that lay lonesome on the bed, grabbing your shirt as she let it pierce through, gripping it and tearing it apart just to see your breasts that she loved so much. the point of the blade cascading lightly over your nipples and stomach, loving it’s gleam that reflected off your skin. she angled it at your lips, brushing it as you moaned against it, “lick it.”

carefully, you ran your tongue along it’s side, sliding in your mouth and letting it reappear as you pulled back. ellie groaned, a monstrous one that made her feel like her insanity was one with yours. you did it without question. the danger of her hips fucking up into yours, taking her knife as if it had been her fingers, cleaning the small dried blood that rested at its point.

“goddamn.” ellie breathed, moving herself to now her face and body was angled just above you, your legs spread and her lower half squatting. her thrusts rippled, the flesh of your clit and the poke of your bud colliding with hers as the knife now aimed at the underside of your neck. “fuck im gonna cum, let me fill your pussy baby… feel it… take it… fuck... fuck!” she announced, the pit of her stomach fuzzed as she squeezed the pleasure from her lower half, a spray of her squirt gushing from where you both connected.

“oh fuck!” you cried, shaking at the overstimulation and the wetness of her squirt, the wet pounds of her cunt mixing in with the hungry moans you both let out.

it didn’t take long for another orgasm to form, her hand gripping your cheeks as she made you watch her speak in the form of her moans. your eyes rolled back, the sting of knife pressing slightly deeper as you lay limp, cumming once again. “good girl… good fucking girl, cum on my pussy… just like that.”

it last long, unable to grasp the fact that it felt so good. “i love cumming…” you cried pathetically, “i love how you make me cum…”

“good endure it…” her hips now slowing itself down. she set the knife beside you both, pressing her lips against your moaning one’s, “you’re mine. your body… it shows that now… look it all the marks ive given you..”

“im yours ellie… only yours.”

“good girl.”

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