#i have like a hundred pinterest followers but that’s it

[petruchio]

you have a secret influencer-esque instagram that has a sizable following. and even if u don’t u do give off that vibe very hard in the best way

HAHAHA well i love that but i must deny this one bc my real secret influencer-esque social media is my tumblr

[headspace-hotel]

Y'all

Im not on tiktok and never have been, but I downloaded RedNote just to see what is up, and I am witnessing something truly amazing

The Chinese user community is giving the American tiktok refugees an overwhelmingly warm welcome, meanwhile the American users seem to have collectively agreed that not only will they not let the app be taken over with English and they will provide Mandarin subtitles for everything, they are LEARNING MANDARIN. Ive scrolled through so many videos of Americans offering greetings in Mandarin to try to acclimate to the new environment and be respectful, and speakers of both languages are posting lots of tutorials on language basics and internet slang in Mandarin

My God, there is an AMAZING outpouring of curiosity and delight among everyone to learn about each others cultures and daily lives. People are posting videos of landscapes, cities, towns, and natural areas in USA and China, posting recipes and traditional foods, vlogs of everyday life, and reaching out to find people with similar hobbies.

And it's not just young people! There are loads of videos from middle-aged American guys who have come to post about fishing or motorcycles and are now happily chatting with Chinese users sharing the same interests using Google translate

One American guy who was like. in his 60's had a comment on one of his videos that was like "Red Neck?" and he replied "Yes!" and I just about fucking lost it

Also the Chinese users love, and I mean LOVE, Luigi Mangione. He is apparently broadly adored in China. There is SO much fanart and SO many edits.

There are many threads initiating Chinese users to ask questions of American users about the USA, and vice versa, and everyone on both sides is clearing up a lot of misconceptions. Some of the questions I saw a lot from Chinese users were: "Is it true that American parents kick you out of the house as soon as you turn 18" (not often, but sometimes) "Do you all really wear shoes in bed" (NO!!! Apparently a lot of characters in American sitcoms are shown lying in bed with shoes on which I never noticed before!) and "are there really guns everywhere" (yes).

For the most part Chinese content creators seem just overwhelmed by the sudden influx of hundreds of followers that are super enthusiastic about what they're doing. A lot of them have made posts about how initially they thought the uptick in follower count was some kind of error, or that there was some kind of joke or prank, but then they realized the interest and enthusiasm was genuine and now they're welcoming all the newcomers.

I found several posts by Chinese users saying that this felt like a really profound historical moment, where these previously separated worlds are suddenly smashing together and suddenly there is freedom to learn about each other's cultures and connect. One of them said something along the lines of "This is a 21st century Tower of Babel and even though I'm an atheist I hope God lets this tower stand." OUGH MY HEART.

The app itself works a little bit like a video-based version of Pinterest. It's not really my thing so I probably won't be on there long term but it's been amazing to see what's happening.

[foone]

Your posts are in an AI model

and then Tumblr decided to sell them to AI models.

Now, don't get me wrong, tumblr selling out the users to AI companies is bad, yes, they shouldn't do that. It sucks.

but don't lets get this confused: your posts were already in there. Tumblr selling them is about tumblr making some money and about the AI models having more exhaustive post collections. It's not about your posts being in an AI model, vs not being in one. That battle has already been lost.

Can you find your post on google? Then it's almost certainly in an AI model already. Think about it: These AI sites showed up before all the sites were making deals to sell their users' content, right? How do you think they built them in the first place?

They scraped the posts. Just like google and bing and such do when they build their search indexes.

It's a fundamental part of how the open web works: you want your posts on tumblr to be visible to users, right? You want them to be readable?* Like, look how much stuff broke when twitter changed their whole read-while-not-logged-in policy, ruining a bunch of thread links/NSFW links. And if it's visible, it's scrapable. That's what the AI models were built on.

I've done website scraping before (not for AI models, of course. I was doing search engines and website archival), this is just how it works. You hire a few relatively smart CS graduates and tell them "build me a scraper that'll give us a bunch of tumblr posts" and they go off for a month or two and come back with a database of a few billion posts, and you stuff that into your AI model. That's how they got all the deviantart and flickr and twitter and pinterest and so on posts. They didn't pay for them: they just took them.

They only ever pay for this shit because either:

they fucked up in such a way that the site might be able to sue them for taking rather than paying

They can buy them cheaper than they can finish taking them. Maybe they'd need to pay the CS grads for an extra month? well, that might be more expensive than just throwing the site a couple hundred thousand bucks.

ANYWAY: my point is, don't treat this "oh no tumblr is selling our posts to AI" like it's a big thing that might happen and it would be bad to happen. Yes, it's bad, tumblr shouldn't do this, this'll let AI models get continual updates of content for far easier than just scraping them would be, tumblr betrayed user trust, and so on...

but realistically, this is not a black and white matter of "if only tumblr didn't do this, then we'd be safe from AI models!"

Nope. We already lost that battle. I'm sorry, and it does suck, but that's just how it is. The avalanche has already started, it's too late for the pebbles to vote. * I'm assuming here that you don't run a private blog that's set to only followers or something. You'd be safer then, of course, but you're not really my target audience for this rant

[verstarppen]

I SAW SMTH ABOUT YOU NEEDING LOGAN SMAU IDEAS AND OH BOY DO I HAVE ONE!! So basically, reader is logans childhood best friend. Always loved gymnastics, and logan always went to all of her recitals and big competitions, and she went to all of his karting practices and races. Now they are grown up and reader is a professional gymnast competing in the Olympics for America, and logan is a professional f1 driver. They are still so close, and they have been dating since they were like 16, but none of the f1 world knows that, they just believe they are friends. Reader manages to get gold at the Olympics so logan does a whole ass simp appreciation post hardlaunching their relationship and giving all of their fans whiplash.

summary; logan has a very special helmet reveal on instagram to celebrate your olympics gold metal and a scavenger hunt seems like the appropriate way to reveal it to you

pairing; logan sargeant x fem! olympic gymnast! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; girl who starts breathing like darth vader after three flights of stairs: yeah i can write from an olympic gymnast's pov that's fine; i've also never been in japan so pinterest was my best friend here

liked by olympics, logansargeant, olliebearman and 3,801,506 others

ynusername the feminine urge to walk around tokyo aimlessly

view all 100,844 comments

vertiddieenjoyer your pfp is such a jumpscare please change it

ynusername never. logansargeant Please? ynusername over my dead body

osc_pastry WILLIAMS MISSING IN THE LIKES 💀

olliebearman Congrats on both wins :)

armstrongslayer NAHHHH setbackhamilttel "call an ambulance, call an ambulance- but not for me" julyestie guys stop giggling...we're on a crime scene

liked by ynusername, liamlawson30, oscarpiastri and 1,400,789 others

logansargeant Thinking of you. Always.

view all 479,007 comments

oscarpiastri How kind of you

logansargeant 😐

roboclaren WHAT WAS THAT....OKAY....JAMES

haas_shaker i too, think of james vowels always forzapluto NOT AFTER WHAT HE PULLED IN AUSTRALIA

bbglewis do you hear that? the sounds of hundreds of f1 wag accounts STOMPING in your direction

mcmango y/n is punching the floor rn

albon_goated oscar too

pierrette girlfriend reveal when

typicallyleclerc It's gotta be that model Caryl Zarubin? Weren't they spotted together at a restaurant recently? lionkingseb no i think he was there with his best friend and she happened to see them and asked for a picture, they don't follow each other on social media or anything like that so it's unlikely typicallyleclerc Ohh, I didn't know that. Thank you.

liked by ynusername, alex_albon, jv.f1 and 2,870,475 others

logansargeant I contemplated how to word this for a long time, but I finally feel ready. For as long as I have known you, you've been a pillar of hope. Someone I can count on. Someone who tells the bullies off when I couldn’t. The first person I ran to after getting my first win.

To see you achieve something as great as an olympic gold metal has made me eternally grateful to be called yours. I can’t promise a win anytime soon, let alone a championship, but I can promise to commemorate you while there's still a stage light above me.

Your shine is brighter than any star, but I’ve tried to replicate it. Congratulations on your achievement, love. I hope you like the surprise 😉

view all 870,140 comments

ynusername YOU ABSOLUTE SAP

logansargeant For you? Always 😌

alex_albon @ ynusername Am I forgiven? I helped with the design

ynusername some sins cannot be forgiven so easily, alexander ynusername im joking ofc you're forgiven, it's not humanly possible for anyone to stay mad at you for long

feeltheorange oh so they're...oh

albogeant this is so sweet i think i feel cavities forming

redbullpapaya STOPPPPP

mcmango nevermind, it's just oscar punching the floor rn

albon_goated A WIN IS A WIN

liked by logansargeant, frederikvestiofficial, arthur_leclerc and 3,151,889 others

ynusername more priceless than any medal

view all 1,988,475 comments

oscarpiastri Okay then, give it to me

ynusername fuck off you can pull it away from my cold dead hands

logansargeant Time to announce the best date competition winner

ynusername you have no competition frederikvestiofficial This couldn't have been more fun than the Ghibli museum :( olliebearman you have to be squidding me oscarpiastri Woomp Woomp arthur_leclerc I would've won olliebearman yeah right olliebearman tuna in next time

ynusername absolutely not, im not doing any more side quests

pic credits; instagram and pinterest

fic-specific taglist; @spilled-coffee-cup @onecojg @cixrosie @sheridamn @namgification @thehufflepuffavenger1 @sxrcxsm26 @mehrmonga @mellowarcadefun

blog taglist; @wtfisakilometer2 @aexitizen-ln4 @localwhoore @onecojg @sheridamn @cixrosie @gulabjamooon @melozyxo @spilled-coffee-cup @biitch-with-wifi @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 @allygatcr @marshmummy @lavenderhazeeworld @ravisinghs-wife @namgification @sheridamn @whatislifebutlemons @demvnsriot @stinkyjax @sxrcxsm26 @beskardroids @tbsloneely @yourmumsdirtysock @elliegrey2803 @mael1pastry @mehrmonga @marymustdie @mellowarcadefun @geniusalpaca

(uni is draining me save me pookies)

[cyberhughes]

congrats on 200 again!! i hope soon you’ll be able to add an extra zero to that 🤞

can i request a quinn hughes (duh) angst with prompt #16

i can’t wait to see what u cook up 👩🏻‍🍳

ps i better be crying after reading or u failed 😢

cyberhughes 200 follower special ⋆ .˚

rum & coke coming up!!

prompt #16: "would i lie to you?"

warnings: angst angst angst...mentions of sex but it's not very descriptive

isaaaa i love you. i INSTANTLY knew what to write w this one i had to pause writing what was in my drafts cause this one was STUCK on my brain. i hope it's as gut wrenching as you hoped it'd be :p

ps…for the extra heartbreak listen to chemtrails over the country club by lana del rey. you’re welcome

prompt list

quinn had been distant these past few weeks, so distant it had felt like you were living alone. you'd only see him in passing, a quick morning kiss as he left for practice while you sat alone, eating the breakfast you had prepared for the two of you, but of course he needed to leave early. you'd often find yourself going to bed alone, waking up in the late hours of the night to see his back turned towards you, your body cold from the absence of his touch.

it felt like he was sailing away, leaving you stranded on an island alone, and you didn't know how to call him back.

you thought that maybe it was your fault, had you gotten too comfortable in your relationship? you didn't find yourself doing your makeup or dressing up as much, and maybe he wanted to be able to show off instead of having to hide you. maybe you would just have to show him that you were still the same girl you were when you met him.

and so, for the whole afternoon you had spent your time cooking a homemade dinner. you didn't cook anything too extravagant often, but you needed this to be special. you had called your mom for her recipes, listening to her guidance as you carefully crafted your meal.

everything was set up strategically on the table, you had pulled out a tablecloth that you never used, gone out and bought a few candles for ambiance. you loosely tied your hair up, and put on a simple red dress that was growing lonely in your closet, the same dress you had worn when you met quinn that night at the bar.

now all there was to do, was wait.

you read a few chapters of your book, scrolled through pinterest, walked around your apartment, organizing things that had already been organized a hundred times.

8:00 pm.

he was supposed to be home around 6, but you brushed it off. you made a million excuses for him in your head, maybe there was traffic, maybe he needed to have an emergency meeting with his teammates. but nothing you came up with could ease the feeling in your gut.

the food was already cold, and the candles had been burning too long, and you thought that maybe you'd be spending the night without the feeling of his arms around you yet again.

just as you stood up to start putting the food away you heard the lock click.

you stood frozen as you watched him walk in. his eyes were tired, his mouth fixed in a slight frown. taking his keys out of the lock, he looked up to the display.

"y/n..." he spoke your name, barely above a whisper as you walked toward him.

"i made you dinner." your voice was shaky as you tried to prevent yourself from crying, you didn't know why you would cry, he was home now.

"you didn't have to do this." he sighed, feeling exhausted from his long day. you helped him take his jacket off, fingers lingering on him before you moved to hang it up. you didn't reply, unsure of what to say. "you should have just started eating without me." he said and you bit your lip, unsure of how to reply.

he noticed the way your eyes were glassy from the tears that formed and he exhaled, "i'm sorry. i didn't mean anything by that. thank you, y/n." but you knew what he meant. he didn't want to have to entertain you after a stressful day.

neither of you spoke as you ate, you simply sat there feeling the tension grow stronger, and your heart break into more pieces.

"why were you late?" you asked mindlessly, toying with the salad on your plate. he shook his head, "bunch of media stuff." you knew he was lying of course, he always poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue when he lied.

you nodded as you stared intensely at the food on your plate. you were sure that if you took another bite you might throw up.

"is there someone else?" you asked quietly, but he could barely hear you. "what was that?" he took a bite of pasta into his mouth, not looking at you once.

"is there someone else?" you voice cracked and he finally looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he swallowed his bite. "what?" you hated the way he was looking at you, like you were on the verge of uncovering something you didn't truly want to know. "no, no there isn't y/n, why would you even say that?"

you took a deep breath, "you...you're never home. you never tell me you love me anymore." a tear fell down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away, not wanting to seem pathetic. he closed his eyes and sighed, processing what you were saying.

you watched as he stood up from his seat, moving towards you and kneeling down, taking your hands in his, a feeling of comfort you hadn't felt in a while.

he tilted his head to the right, "would i lie to you?" he stared into your eyes with ruth.

maybe you had overreacted. he had an insane career, of course his schedule would be busy.

"no, you wouldn't. i'm sorry quinn." you let another tear fall and he swiped it away, thumb caressing your cheek and you leaned into his touch. "don't be sorry, how about we just go to bed, hm?" he suggested and you nodded, letting him lead you to bed.

you savored the way his fingers felt on your skin as he helped you out of your dress, taking your hair down and moving it to the side and he pressed kisses along your neck. you felt your heart tighten at the feeling, it had been too long since he lingered on you like this.

maybe things were going back to normal.

after that night, he had made it a point to have more meaningful interactions with you. staying a bit later to eat breakfast with you, cuddling with you on the couch as you watched your show, trailing kisses up your thighs as he got closer to your core, wanting to show you that he still loved you.

everything had gone back to normal.

your boss had let you off work early one day, so you decided to pick up a pizza from his favorite place to surprise him. you felt giddy as you drove home, excited to hear about his day and feel his lips on yours.

your steps were quick walked up to your apartment, nearly tripping up the stairs in excitement. you tried to open the door quietly, not wanting him to know you had gotten home just yet. you pushed the door open, feeling it caught on something. you squeezed through the small gap, looking down to see what had blocked it.

you furrowed your brows in confusion.

you don't remember owning a pair of red heels like that.

you placed the pizza down on the counter gently, feeling the unease in your stomach grow as you called out his name, not receiving another answer.

you crept to your bedroom, hearing some shuffling. the door had been cracked open slightly and you peeked inside, not yet opening it.

you slapped a hand over your mouth at the sight in front of you, feeling like you had just been stabbed in the heart by your own lover.

there he was, balls deep in some other girl, whispering words of affection you had never heard from him before. you couldn't take your eyes away as you watched the way he fucked her with more passion than you had ever seen from him.

"quinn..." he groaned at the way she moaned his name, nipping at her neck. "promise you're gonna leave her?" he laughed at her words, picking up the pace of his hips as he spoke into her ear,

"would i lie to you?"

[thenickgirl]

TOO HOT

nick x oc!jalen

requested? yes

type: one shot ❀ genre: smut ❀ pov: third ❀ wc: 1.4K

pairing: top!nick x bottom!jalen (don’t say shit, it was a request)

summary: in which things get interesting during game night

warnings: established relationship, swearing, oral and anal sex

a/n: so basically i saw this on pinterest and thought it would be fun. jay, i hope you enjoy this, sorry it took so long. happy reading! ❀

“YOU CHEATED!! YOU TOOK A SHORTCUT!” Nick screamed, setting the controller down on the table in front of him.

“WHAT?? NO I DIDN'T!” Jalen says in defense, mimicking Nick’s actions, before leaning back on the couch.

Nick scoffs, rolling his eyes in annoyance, “I DIDN'T SEE YOU THE ENTIRE TIME, J, AND SUDDENLY YOU'RE AT THE FINISH LINE?? CHEATERRRR!” he yells, a smile threatening to form.

The sound of thunder crashed in the background of the couple’s light hearted bickering. It was storming, and the rain was coming down heavily, so instead of going out for their date like they had originally planned, they stayed inside. Jalen suggested that they should have a little game night, and Nick loves a competition.

They were competing to see who could win the most games throughout the night. Currently, the score was 2-2, Jalen securing his second win with this round of Mario Kart.

“You’re cracked,” Jalen laughs, shaking his head as he looks over at his boyfriend who was now laughing along with him.

“Whatever,” Nick huffs, grabbing his phone off of the table. “I’ll find something else to play that will guarantee me a win,” he says as he scrolls through his phone, going from app to app.

“You’re such a sore loser, peach” Jalen laughs as he watches Nick concentrate on finding something, before quickly being shushed by him.

A devious grin spread across Nick’s face as he saw it. Something that would turn the tables on this impromptu game night.

“Look it!” He commands as he leans over to show his phone to Jalen, who glances at it before grinning himself.

“I thought you were finding games you could win,” Jalen chuckles while shaking his head.

Nick frowned at Jalen’s reaction, “And I did,” he replied confidently.

“You seriously think you could hold out longer than me?” Jalen questions, his brow raised in disbelief.

“A hundred percent,” Nick says with certainty, followed by a shrug.

Jalen shakes his head, scooting closer to Nick, his face inches away from him, “I don’t think you could,” he challenges, his eyes glancing at Nick’s lips before meeting his blue eyes again.

“Try me,” Nick responds, his lips brushing against his boyfriend’s as he spoke, and before he knew it, Jalen closed the space between them, kissing him.

Nick kisses back, deepening it, his fist clenching onto the soft material of the couch so as to not touch Jalen, despite how desperately he wanted to. Jalen’s tongue brushes along Nick’s lip, begging for access, and he gains it when Nick moans into his mouth.

The pair make out for what seems like hours, their lips smack together as they whimper and groan. Both growing more and more eager to touch one another, but neither willing to lose.

Nick was close to caving, so he knew he had to do something to get Jalen to cave first. Without warning, Nick hooked his teeth into Jalen’s bottom lip, knowing how much he loved it, and his boyfriend fell right into his trap. Jalen moaned, grabbing Nick's face in hands, drawing him in.

Nick immediately towers over Jalen, grabbing his hands and pinning him down on the couch as he breaks the kiss, a devilish grin plastered on his face when he leaned in and whispered, “You lose.”

Jalen let out a small gasp from the switch, “That’s not fair! You bit my lip!!” He exclaimed in defense of his actions.

“All’s fair in love and war, baby,” Nick says before swiftly pulling Jalen up and over his shoulder, carrying him to their shared bedroom, and tossing him onto the bed, yet careful not to hurt him.

The pitter patter of the rain hitting the roof, and the thudding sound of Jalen’s heart in his chest was the only thing heard as Nick stared down at him, biting his lip. “If I recall correctly…” he pauses, licking his lips. “I get to do what I want,” he states, grabbing Jalen’s chin making him look at him, his thumb running across his bottom lip.

“I guess so,” Jalen says, looking up at the brunette, the dominance evident in his piercing blue eyes.

Nick grins again, “Get up on the bed,” he commands, and Jalen complies, going up towards the middle of the bed. Nick follows suit, his body floating over him as he kisses him hungrily. Nick’s hands roam Jalen’s body as he moans into his mouth, and he swallows them down. He breaks the kiss, chuckling as Jalen chases his lips.

He then strips them both of their clothes, leaving them only in boxers as he hovers over the dread head. Nick’s lips trail from Jalen’s chest down his abdomen, and his breathing labored. He goes further down, running his tongue along the waistband of Jalen’s boxers before pulling them off, and his length springs free. He licks around the tip, then takes him into his mouth, and Jalen’s head falls back.

“Fuck…” Jalen whispered, sitting up on his elbows as he looked down at Nick.

Nick works Jalen’s cock with his mouth, his head bobbing up and down, as Jalen moans uncontrollably, his hand guiding Nick’s movements. After several minutes, Nick pulls off of him with a ‘pop’. He reaches over to the night stand, grabbing lubricant and squeezing it on his fingertips. With his long slick fingers, he intrudes Jalen hole, spreading and curling them. He takes his time working him open, the squelching sound and his boyfriend’s moans making his own cock twitch as a growl escapes his throat.

“Think you can take me, baby?” Nick asks, his fingers still pumping in and out of him slowly, and Jalen just nods in response.

He hums as he removes his hand from Jalen’s body, then gets up to take off his boxers, before hovering over Jalen again as he kisses along his jaw.

“On your tummy,” he whispers in Jalen’s ear and a shiver runs down his spine. Jalen turns over, laying flat on his stomach, and Nick uses his knees to spread his legs open wider. He presses his length against Jalen’s sopping hole before sliding all the way in.

Jalen moans softly when Nick bottoms out, “So fucking tight,” Nick groans as he sets a steady rhythm.

His hips snap against Jalen’s ass hard as he fucks him into the mattress. The sound of their moans and the bed creaking creates a perfect harmony around them.

“Yes! Mm, you like fuckin’ this tight little hole, don’t you? Such a slut for it, so eager to fill me up,” Jalen moaned while looking back at Nick, his eyes threatening to roll back as Nick picked up his pace.

With one hand he grabs a fist full of Jalen’s hair, pulling so hard it lifts him slightly off the bed, while the other slaps his ass cheek repeatedly.

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Nick threatened, deepening his thrusts as Jalen whimpered.

With each stroke Nick’s length brushed against that sensitive spot inside of him, and his body shook. “Shit, Nick…” Jalen moaned, his fingers tangling in the sheets as Nick fucked him relentlessly.

“That mouth of yours isn’t so smart now, is it? Hm?” Nick grunts, as he lets go of Jalen’s hair and he falls against the mattress.

“I-Nnngh, fuck, don’t stop,” Jalen whimpered, his face buried in sheets as he moaned over and over.

The couple's sweat covered bodies continued to mold together as the storm passed. That familiar feeling begin to rise inside of Jalen, and he cried out, “Oh fuck, I’m so close” he warns.

Nick flips Jalen onto his back, wanting to see his face as he comes for him. Jalen’s back arched off of the bed, as he reaches his peak, his body shuddering as he teeters towards the edge.

“I-…Fuckkk,” Jalen moans as he comes over himself, his mouth opened slightly and his eyes rolled back, the sight causing Nick’s release to hit him as well, his hips beginning to stutter.

“Shit shit shit,” Nick groans as he comes inside of him, before collapsing atop of him. They both pant, catching their breaths as they come down from their high.

“Damn, I should let you top more often,” Jalen chuckles as he kisses the top of Nick’s head.

Nick giggles as he rolls off of him, pulling Jalen to his side, as Jalen rests his head on his chest. “Why ruin a good system?” Nick says while shrugging, and they both laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” Jalen says, stealing one of Nick’s most infamous lines, his fingers tracing the stars on Nick’s shoulder.

The soft touch sends a shiver down Nick's spine as he pulls Jalen impossibly closer. He leans his head down before whispering…

“I’m a winner.”

—

✎ signed,

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ❀

a/n: chat this will be the last smut for a little while, i’m just not into right now at all. also, got some really cute things planned, so stay tuned. i love youuuu 🩷

🏷️: @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @sturniolossss @sturniioloslut @ameerahsblog @freshloveee @asherrisrandom @dumbf2ck @maliaforstvrns @nicksbestie @emely9274 @marrykisskilled @ksturnz @colorthecosmos444 @tyummyz @idrk2292 @soursturniolo @nickssidewitch

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 1

Read Chapter two - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of STD and STI tests, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: 20,000 dollars in student debt can lead to irrational decisions, like engaging in a questionable discussion when a friend who is knowledgeable about BDSM mentions an auction she's attending.

WC: 3.6K

A/n: the first of the new and improved version of my mister miller fic🫶🏻

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

Cold and heartless, Dr. Richards, your financial aid advisor, was a stern woman. You had expected that, considering the difficulty of having to inform hundreds of students about whether they could afford to continue their college careers or not. Last week, you discovered an unpaid dues notice from the school when you were looking through your financial reports. You had thought that all your dues were covered by a creative writing scholarship and financial aid.

Dr. Richards set your papers down and sighed, taking off her glasses and looking at you with an unexpected hint of pity. "Would you like me to be kind or blunt?" she asked, her voice steady but softened by the weight of bad news.

Your hand slapped to your forehead instinctively as dread pooled in your stomach. "Blunt," you muttered, bracing yourself.

"You're $20,000 in debt," she continued without missing a beat. "The total cost of your first year was $40,000. $20,000 was covered through financial aid and the scholarship, but if you wish to continue, the remaining $20,000 has to be paid by the start of next semester."

Shock and anger twisted inside you, making your vision blur. "Three months?!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with panic. "How am I supposed to afford that? I can barely afford anything as it is."

Dr. Richards leaned back, her eyes holding a mixture of sympathy and resignation. "I understand this is difficult, but the reality is, you need to find a solution quickly. Perhaps a private loan, more scholarships, or even a part-time job."

The office walls seemed to close in around you, the air thick with the weight of impossible choices. You stood up, feeling the urgency of time slipping through your fingers. "I'll figure something out," you said, your voice a brittle whisper of determination.

As you stepped out into the corridor, the gravity of your situation bore down on you. The campus buzzed with the usual life of students, oblivious to your internal turmoil. Every step you took felt heavier, each echoes a reminder of the $20,000 chain now dragging you down.

Night fell as you wandered the campus, lost in thought. The familiar paths seemed alien, shadows stretching long and menacing under the flickering streetlights. Once you made it back to your cramped dorm room, you opened the door and flopped onto your bed without even glancing at your roommate, Faith.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Faith asked, concern lacing her voice.

You lifted your head from the bed just enough to reply. "Remember the financial notice I got last week? Turns out I'm $20,000 in debt, and I didn't even know. Ugh, I should have read the papers more thoroughly." You sunk your head back into the thin, scratchy comforter on your bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you.

Faith sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide with concern. "That's... a lot. What are you going to do?"

You sighed deeply, the sound muffled by the comforter. "I have no idea. Three months to come up with twenty grand? It feels impossible."

Faith was silent for a moment, the tension in the room thickening. Finally, she spoke, her voice a mix of determination and desperation. "We'll figure something out. There has to be a way."

You nodded weakly, and Faith gently moved your shoulders to get you to sit up. She sat next to you and nudged you playfully. "Maybe a sugar daddy? You're a hot 20-year-old with a banging body," Faith joked, her mischievous grin breaking through the tension.

You managed a small smile, though part of you wondered if she was actually being serious. Faith was always open about her sex life, unlike you. You were a virgin, but the thought of a sugar daddy did sound appealing in your desperate situation.

"Yeah, right," you replied with a chuckle, though the idea lingered in your mind longer than it should have. Faith's laughter filled the room, a momentary reprieve from the oppressive worry.

Faith stood up abruptly before walking to her laptop and bringing it over to you. "A Twilight marathon isn't going to fix this," she cut you off, her tone serious, as she settled beside you.

"I know, I know... but," she hesitated, her expression grave, "well, I might have a solution." With a look of persuasion, she showed you her laptop screen, displaying a website named 'Twisted Temptations.'

"Your BDSM club?" you blurted out, taken aback.

"Okay, okay, listen," Faith hurried to explain, sensing your shock and disapproval. "We're doing this auction... You get 10% of whatever they bid for you."

You stood there, frozen in disbelief, waiting for Faith to continue. "How do you think I paid for college and..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "most don't even want sex. You should at least look at the application."

You shook your head, doubt clouding your thoughts. "I don't know, Faith. This is so out of my comfort zone."

Faith moved closer, her expression softening with concern and determination. "Listen, I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think it was safe. The club is strict about boundaries. You set the limits, and they are respected. Plus, I'll be there to guide you through everything."

You glanced at the laptop screen, the application form open and waiting. The prospect seemed overwhelming, yet there was a glimmer of hope—an unconventional solution to your daunting financial problems.

Faith sensed your hesitation and continued, "I know it's a big step, but think about the benefits. You need the money, and this way, you control what happens. You set your limits and preferences, and everything is mutually agreed upon with your partner. Trust me, you'll be safe."

You took a deep breath, considering her words. "But what if something goes wrong?"

Faith smiled reassuringly. "It won't. The club has strict rules and procedures to protect everyone involved. I'll help you with everything—filling out the application, setting your boundaries, and making sure you're comfortable. You won't be alone in this."

The weight of your financial troubles pressed down on you, and Faith's unwavering support felt like a lifeline. You sighed and sank onto the bed next to her. "Alright, I'll do it, but you have to help me. I don't want something to go wrong."

Faith's eyes lit up with excitement. "It won't," she assured you confidently. "Let's get started." She quickly filled in your name, age, and other essential details, then looked at you with a reassuring smile. "Okay, now we need to talk about your preferences and limits. This is really important."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "What kind of preferences?"

Faith glanced at the screen, scrolling down to the next section. "Let's start with the basics. Are there any absolute no-go areas for you? Things you absolutely won't do?"

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter of nerves. "Well, I'm a virgin, but I'm ready to...you know, not be. I just don't want to do anything I'm not comfortable with."

Faith nodded, her expression serious but supportive. "That's totally okay. You can specify that you're new and what your limits are. Many people in the club respect that and will help you explore at your own pace."

She typed as she spoke, checking off boxes and filling in fields. "What about things like light bondage, sensory play, or role-playing? Have you ever thought about those?"

You blushed slightly, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I've never tried any of it, but I guess I could be open to light stuff. Nothing too intense to start."

Faith smiled encouragingly. "Perfect. We'll start with light bondage and sensory play. You can always update your preferences later as you get more comfortable."

She continued filling out the form, asking about your comfort levels with different activities, safe words, and any medical conditions or allergies. You answered as best as you could, relying on Faith's guidance and the snippets of information she'd shared with you over the years.

"Remember," Faith added, "most of what you like and don't like is decided mutually between the dom and sub. Communication is key. You'll discuss your limits and preferences with your partner beforehand, and you can always say no if something doesn't feel right."

Faith noted your availability and reviewed the application one last time. "Alright, I think we're all set. Ready to submit?"

You took a deep breath, nerves, and excitement swirling within you. "Ready."

Faith clicked the submit button, and the screen flashed a confirmation message. She turned to you with a grin. "Welcome to Twisted Temptations. You're going to be great."

As you sat there, a mix of relief and apprehension settling over you, Faith squeezed your hand. "Remember, you're in control. This is about exploring your boundaries and discovering what you're comfortable with. And I'll be here every step of the way."

You nodded, and Faith smiled. “The auction will be held next week. You’ll need to get an STD and STI test done, and you desperately need to get something sexy.”

You gasped at Faith. “I own sexy clothes?”

Faith giggled and walked over to the closet. "Well, maybe not yet, but that's what I'm here for."

She flung open the closet doors and began rifling through your clothes. After a moment, she pulled out a baggy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, holding them up with a look of mock horror. “Unless you plan on seducing someone with the allure of ‘Netflix and no chill,’ we need to do some shopping.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken. But where am I supposed to find something sexy?”

Faith’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Leave that to me. We’ll hit up the mall tomorrow, and by the time we’re done, you’ll have an outfit that’ll make jaws drop.”

You felt a mixture of excitement and dread. “Fine, but no leather. And nothing with feathers. Or sequins. Or—”

“Relax,” Faith interrupted, still laughing. “I know just the thing. You’ll be sexy, not sparkly.”

As Faith closed the closet doors with a flourish, she turned back to you, her expression turning serious. “But seriously, the tests are important. We need to make sure you’re safe and everything is in order.”

You nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in again. “I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

Faith grinned and flopped down on the bed beside you. “Great. Now, let’s watch a terrible rom-com to celebrate your big decision. It’ll be our last bit of normalcy before you become a sex goddess.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

Faith and you decided to Uber to the auction. The city lights blurred past the window as you fidgeted with the hem of your newly purchased dress. Faith noticed your nerves and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Alright,” she said, her tone both calming and excited, “let me walk you through what’s going to happen tonight.”

You nodded, trying to focus on her words instead of the churning anxiety in your stomach.

“When we arrive at the venue, we'll check in at the front desk. They'll hand you your papers and auction number,” Faith explained. “Then, we can mingle and meet some of the other participants. It's like a real auction party, so don't be shy about striking up conversations.”

You took a deep breath, feeling slightly reassured. “And when does the bidding start?”

Faith grinned. “Bidding starts at 10 PM sharp. That's when the real excitement begins.

As the Uber came to a stop outside the venue, I looked out the window at the unremarkable building that awaited me. Faith led the way, exuding confidence as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

Stepping into the venue, anticipation swirled around me like a gentle breeze, mingling with the soft melodies of background music. The interior whispered of understated elegance, with dim lighting casting enchanting shadows across the polished floors and plush furnishings. Faith guided you towards the check-in desk, where attendants bustled about with papers and pins. You exchanged a nervous glance, excitement bubbling beneath the surface as you approached the desk.

“Welcome,” greeted the attendant with a warm smile, “may I have your names, please?”

You and Faith exchanged introductions before the attendant handed you each a set of papers and pins to attach to your dresses. With a playful grin, Faith nudged you and held up her pin, wiggling it teasingly.

“Alright, partner in crime,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “let’s get these on and make sure we’re looking sharp for the auction.”

You chuckled, feeling a surge of affection for your friend as you both leaned in to help each other attach the pins to your dresses. 

With your pins securely fastened, you and Faith made your way toward the main ballroom. The air seemed to buzz with an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. As you approached the entrance, the grandeur of the room came into view.

The ballroom was a striking blend of opulence and decadence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the space, illuminating velvet drapes in deep, sensual hues that lined the walls. The polished marble floors reflected the ambient light, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. Guests mingled in clusters, their laughter and hushed conversations weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the room.

At one end of the ballroom stood a grand stage, draped in rich, crimson fabric and adorned with luxurious golden trim. The stage was set for the auction, with a sleek podium at the center and rows of plush chairs arranged in front, ready for the evening’s main event.

As you stepped further inside, the scene grew more intense. The guests were an eclectic mix, their attire ranging from sophisticated evening wear to daring, barely-there outfits that left little to the imagination. Leather, lace, and latex dominated the fashion choices, with some attendees adorned in intricate harnesses and collars, their outfits hinting at the BDSM theme of the event.

Faith squeezed your hand one last time before she was swept away by a familiar face, her confident stride never faltering. You stood there for a moment, feeling a sudden pang of anxiety as the crowd seemed to close in around you. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people—it was all too much at once.

Your heart raced as you tried to navigate through the sea of faces, each one strange and intimidating. The grandeur of the ballroom that had seemed so captivating just moments ago now felt overwhelming. You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself, but the sensation of being out of your depth only intensified.

The guests were like nothing you had ever seen before. A man in an immaculate tuxedo strolled by, a jeweled mask obscuring his eyes, while a woman in a full-body latex suit and stiletto heels sauntered past, her movements deliberate and commanding. A couple nearby caught your eye: the woman wore a sheer, flowing gown, her partner trailing behind her on a leash, wearing nothing but leather shorts and a collar.

In one corner, a group of people had gathered around a figure suspended in a rope harness, their intricate knots both artistic and functional. Soft moans and murmurs of appreciation floated through the air as the person twisted slowly, lost in the sensations the ropes provided. Another attendee, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, held a riding crop, playfully tapping it against their thigh as they chatted with a scantily clad submissive whose eyes never left the ground.

Guests lounged on plush sofas, some openly engaging in power play dynamics. A woman in a sleek corset held a leash attached to a submissive kneeling beside her, while another couple whispered intimately, their hands exploring each other's bodies with practiced ease. The atmosphere was charged with an erotic energy, a palpable sense of anticipation for what the night would bring.

As you continued to weave through the crowd, searching for a familiar face or a quiet corner, the overwhelming nature of the evening began to settle heavily on your shoulders. The mix of luxury and raw sexuality, the boldness of the guests, and the anticipation of what was to come all blended into a dizzying mix that left you feeling adrift.

In that moment, you longed for Faith's reassuring presence, her confident guidance. But she was somewhere amidst the throng, leaving you to navigate this new and intimidating world on your own. You felt a prickling sense of vulnerability, the realization that you were truly stepping into uncharted territory sinking in as you tried to steady your breath and find your footing in the extravagant chaos surrounding you.

So, like every college student in a social bind, you made a beeline for the bar. "Shit," you muttered, realizing you had left both your fake and real ID back in the dorm. Trying to muster some confidence, you approached the bar, hoping your outfit might be convincing enough. You sidled up next to a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed impeccably in a well-tailored suit. You could catch the faint scent of pine and campfire from his cologne.

Putting on your best flirty face, you addressed the bartender. He was the complete opposite of the man beside you—average height, slightly taller than you, skinny, tattooed, and wearing an ill-fitting button-up uniform top. His head was shaved clean. "One shot of Tito's, please," you said, playing with your hair in an attempt to seem older and more sophisticated.

The bartender chuckled. "ID, please?"

You leaned forward, arms together to emphasize your cleavage. "ID, really?" you said, trying to be as seductive as possible.

The bartender looked tempted but quickly shook his head. "No ID, no alcohol," he said firmly, turning away.

You groaned in frustration, which caught the attention of the man next to you. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was older, that was clear, but he looked good. His stubble was neatly trimmed, his curly hair slicked back in a way that seemed both effortless and intentional, and his eyes were large and expressive.

"So, no ID?" he asked, his voice warm and slightly amused.

You smiled back. "No, but a girl can try."

He set down his glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "Well, how old are you then?"

"Twenty," you admitted, locking eyes with him.

Before you could continue the conversation, Faith appeared, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the bar. "What were you doing talking to Joel Miller?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and concern.

You glanced back, watching Joel as he turned back to his drink. "Just chatting. Why?"

Faith handed you a pamphlet and opened it to a specific page. "Page four," she instructed.

As you skimmed the page, she continued, "Joel is... intense. He's someone to shy away from until you're more experienced. Trust me on this."

Your eyes widened as you read the details. "Intense" was an understatement. "So, who's the safe bet?" you asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Faith's face softened. "His brother, Tommy. He's more laid-back and a better choice for someone starting. You'll find him much easier to talk to."

You sighed, glancing back toward the bar. "Guess I dodged a bullet, huh?"

Faith smiled. "Yeah, you did. Now, let's find Tommy and get you introduced. He's around here somewhere."

Joel suddenly appeared as you and Faith navigated through the crowd, stopping you both dead in your tracks. "Tito's," he said, handing you a glass with a wry smile. He glanced at the number pinned to your dress before walking away, leaving you stunned.

"What was that about?" Faith immediately questioned, her eyes wide with surprise.

Before you could respond, a voice boomed from the auction podium. "May all the products please make their way backstage."

Faith turned to you, her expression shifting from curiosity to urgency. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get backstage."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, clutching the glass of Tito's Joel had given you. You downed it in one gulp, hoping it would calm your nerves, then handed the empty glass back to Faith. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be fine. Just remember what we talked about. You're in control."

With a deep breath, you joined the other "products" making their way to the designated area. The backstage was a flurry of activity, with organizers checking names and numbers, and participants adjusting their outfits one last time. The air was thick with anticipation and a hint of perfume mingled with the scent of leather.

An organizer approached you, checking your number against his list. "You're number 3, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely audible over the din of conversation and last-minute preparations.

"Great. Just wait here until you're called," he instructed, pointing to a row of chairs along the wall.

You sat down, your mind racing. Faith's words echoed in your head: "You're in control. You decide your limits." The reality of what you were about to do began to sink in, but you steeled yourself, determined to see it through.

As you waited, you couldn't help but think about Joel. His unexpected gesture with the Tito's, the way he had looked at you—something about him intrigued and unnerved you. But Faith's warning was clear: he was intense, someone to be cautious around. Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

"Number 3, you're up next," the organizer said.

You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."

[space-cowgirllll]

Wildflower

a/n- I'm super sick and might have written this in a NyQuil induced haze lol but I've been obsessed with this song lately and I just couldn't help myself and then these pictures pop up on my Pinterest??? I had to.

Reader is not a girls girl in this I'm sorryyyy.

You're already awake when she starts to stir, laying on your side staring out the small window across from the bed. The pretty blue and pink pastels of the sky are in the early stages of transitioning into a vibrant orange as the sun starts to rise.

This used to be your favorite time of the day. Listening to her breathing mixed with the birds chirping through the small crack in the window. Happy to wake up to her legs intertwined with yours, the warmth radiating from her body against your back. Now? The once comforting feeling of her breath at the nape of your neck sent chills down your spine, her tattooed arm felt like a hundred pound weight around your waist.

A gentle kiss is placed on the back of your head, followed by a mumbled good morning. The old bed creaks as she shuffles to the edge. Your body follows her movements, rolling over to face her. Her short hair is sticking straight up in certain spots from how much she'd tossed and turned all night. She was overdue for a haircut. You watch as she sits there, shoulders slumped and staring at the wall lost in thought. There are dark circles underneath her eyes. It was getting harder to pretend you didn't notice. 

"Are you hungry?" You whisper.

She shakes her head as if she just remembered you were still there and you frown. She hadn't had dinner last night either. "We have to go see Tommy today." 

Ellie gives you a small smile, her fingers run down the bare skin of your arm. You tense when she leans down. Lips just a hair's breadth away from yours when you turn your head to the side, hands pushing against her chest. She huffs when she's met the skin of your cheek instead.

"At least let me brush my teeth first Els." you giggle halfheartedly when she rolls her eyes. Her lips curve up in a grin.

"Okay, weirdo." she moves to press a quick kiss to your hairline instead, giving your hip a small squeeze.

"I'm going to go get Shimmer ready." She speaks into your hair. "I'll meet you at the gate?"

You nod silently, watching her slip out of the room and into the bathroom down the hall. The smile slips off your face the second you hear the sound of water running. 

--

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, eyes focused on the table in front of you. Your hands fidget with the frayed edges of the napkin. To your left, Maira chatters with a couple of the older women in Jackson. You'd been laughing as they shared stories about their lives before when you hear it. A knot in your stomach forms at the sound of her voice, tightening as she gets closer. Your hands clench into fists on your lap. A hand on your arm makes you jump, your knee bumping against the edge of the table. Maria watches you with a knowing look on her face. 

You give her what you think is reassuring smile, but judging by the frown on her face, she's not convinced. You chew on the inside of your cheek wishing you'd been able to stay back at the farm. In your peripheral you check on Ellie. She's hunched over what seems to be a map, while Tommy points to different areas on it. He talking excitedly about something, the determination on his face scares you. 

The last time you were all in the same room together you'd been standing in the sidelines having a drink with Jesse. You happily watching your best friend dance with Ellie, while he avoided looking Dina's way. 

Today, the seat next to hers is empty and the three of you avoid each other as best as you can in a town with a population of three hundred people. 

The ten month old in Dina's arms wiggles around as his chubby hands bang on the table. Little babbles reach your ears over the hum of conversations around you. You chance a quick look at him. It's bittersweet to see so much of your friend in JJ's sweet face. There's a dull pang in your chest, knowing Jesse deserved to be here, watching his son grow. God, you could use a stupid joke or two of his right about now. He'd never let you and Ellie live this down. 

Your eyes involuntarily move to Dina. She's deep in conversation with Jesse's mother. It had been months since you've seen her, and even longer since you'd spoken. You were too ashamed to ask anyone how she was doing knowing it would immediately get back to her. Your closest friend had become a stranger and it was all your fault. But what could you say? Sorry I got involved with your ex girlfriend five months after you broke up, let's still be friends? She'd probably punch you in the face. She had done it for less.

You press your lips together, fighting the bout of nausea that crawls up your throat. Your chair scrapes loudly across the floor, but you don't even care at the looks it earns you. With a rushed goodbye to the women, you book it outside. The humid air does little to help your already clammy skin, your tank top sticking to your back in the most uncomfortable way. 

The doors of the dining hall burst open just a moment later, startling you. Ellie storms out followed by an equally angry Tommy. His lips pulled down in a scowl. She doesn't even seem to notice you're there, striding right past you.

"What the fuck, Tommy?" You whisper shout at the older man, making no move to stop in fear of Ellie getting too far ahead. He just grumbles an apology, a fleeting look of regret on his face as he heads back inside.

Your feet slip slightly as you pick up the pace, the ground still muddy from an unexpected storm the day before. Ellie doesn't even seem fazed by it as she powers through to the stables. She has the decency to look embarrassed when she sees you following, and you try to ignore how much it hurts to know she'd completely forgotten you were there. 

The silence leaves you alone with your thoughts longer than should be allowed. You spend the whole time thinking so hard it feels like your head is going to pop. Remembering how upset Dina had been after the breakup, unable to deal with all the stress of dealing with a grieving partner while navigating the loss of her child's father shortly after finding out she was pregnant. The late nights where you held her as she cried. When no one had heard from Ellie for weeks, you made the trip up to the small farm she and Dina shared for those first short weeks of their return from Seattle. You found her sitting on the porch looking worse for wear. Her attempts to kick you out were futile. It started off innocently at first, you heading over to help her clean or look after the couple of sheep she kept around. Making sure she at least tried some of the food you'd bring over. Ellie was happy to let you do most of the talking, giving her the rundown on whatever the rumor mill was churning that week. 

It had taken months before the Ellie you knew slowly started making an appearance. Her art slowly appearing around the house, the strumming of her guitar becoming background noise while you prepared dinner. The first time she cracked one of her lame jokes you'd stared at her like she'd grown another head. 

Before you knew it you were practically living at the farm and one day when Ellie asked you to just stay, you listened. The look of betrayal on Dina's face as you moved what little you owned out of your house haunted you some nights.

It had been easy to ignore it in the beginning, the guilt overshadowed by the attention Ellie gave you. These days you can't shake the thought that maybe she'd kept you around because she was scared of being alone.

You reluctantly tighten your grip on Ellie, watching the profile of her face as she leads the horse onto the trail that goes back to the farm. She looks back at you, lowering one of her hands to squeeze yours resting on her waist. Try as you might, you had never been the best at consoling the girl in front of you.

As you look back over your shoulder, you contemplate how stupid you'd look if you came back to Jackson alone with your tail tucked between your legs. 

--

"Ellie! Sit still." 

"I am!"

The two of you are crammed into the tiny downstairs bathroom of your home. Her in a chair, you behind her with your hands in her hair. The room is silent, safe for the occasional snipping of the scissors. 

"I told you to just wait for me." You mumble as you try to fix the messy uneven strands at the back of her head. 

"You were taking too long."

"Well you can kiss that little half up bun of yours goodbye." The small pout on her face makes you laugh.

She'd gone a little wild with the scissors this time. Her once shoulder length hair now a shaggy cut that kept the hair off her neck. You huff as she moves her head from side to side, making it harder to keep cutting. She hums in approval.

"Not bad." 

"I'm not done yet." You whine, letting her pull you to sit on her lap.

Her chin props on your shoulder, smiling at you in the mirror. "It looks fine. Thanks babe." 

You rest your head against hers, admiring the way the morning sun coming through the window brings out the red in her hair.

The sweet moment is ruined by your treacherous thoughts. Remembering that night a little over a year ago. You'd showed up to Dina's one night after patrol to find the two girls in the bathroom as she trimmed Ellie's hair. It had been just before the two left for Seattle to chase after Tommy. Ellie had been a mess, staring off into nothing as your friend combed through her hair. 

And amidst all the chaos in her life you saw the way her eyes lit up when Dina looked at her. The flush of her cheeks whenever they locked eyes. Watching them interact had always felt like you were intruding on something.

"Oh I love this song!" Ellie cranes her neck, listening to the soft music coming from the record player in the living room.

Your chest tightens, the burning sensation from earlier returning. As she hums quietly, you think back to the day Dina had found the record in an old music store while on patrol. She'd probably left it behind. It was one of her favorites too, and if Ellie knows it, she doesn't show it. 

There was so much of Dina intertwined with Ellie. The two had been friends for years before they dated. They made far more sense than you and Ellie did. Some days you wondered if she ever even truly saw you. 

Would there ever be a moment that was just your own?

--

You lay there in the middle of your shared bed,  knees tucked into your chest with the covers up to your chin. Ellie's side of the bed cold and empty when you woke. Just as it had been every night since her argument with Tommy. The one you still knew nothing about, being brushed off every time you asked about it. You'd gotten used to her reserved nature over the past months, but this was different. There were still smiles and kisses thrown your way, but those no longer felt genuine.

The house is unusually quiet for Ellie not being in bed. No guitar being played or the quiet hum of the tv downstairs. Quickly slipping into one of her old hoodies, you notice that her jacket and backpack are gone from their usual spot. In a panic, you rush down the stairs. The ratty sneakers you constantly begged her to get rid of are missing from where she threw them every night after kicking them off.

Without even thinking you run towards the barn barefoot. The animals startle at the loud groan from the old door being opened but you pay them no mind as you move towards the small stable near the back. When only one horse pokes its head out to greet you, your blood runs cold. It wasn't Shimmer.

She left.

You don't even have to energy to cry, too in shock to truly process that Ellie's gone. Muddy footprints track inside the house, ruining the floors you had just cleaned before bed. You don't even realize you're in the kitchen until you collapse in one of the dining chairs. 

It isn't until hours later, when the sun finally starts to rise that you see it. The singular scrap stuck to the fridge underneath an old magnet she'd stolen from Joel. You recognize her the swirls of her messy handwriting as she apologizes for leaving. She'd gone after Abby. Her words start to blur as tears spill over, smudging the ink as they land on the paper. You angrily swipe at your face as you reach the end, staring at the three words she'd underlined twice before promising she'd see you soon. 

I love you.

No she didn't.

[paperpersephone]

This is a super quick example of what's in my 2024 journal! 💞

Despite popular belief, your journal does not have to follow a specific theme, it doesn't have to be tidy or "Instagram worthy", and you don't have to write in it on a daily basis!

I found peace in journaling when I let go of the expectation that my journal has to look like everyone else's on Instagram or Pinterest. I enjoy it way more being able to do whatever I want with it, rather than following a set of rules that don't actually exist. 😊

So keep this in mind if you struggle with keeping your journal:

Writing 1 line is okay if that's all you can write for the day. Don't force yourself to write, ever.

You don't have to write daily.

You can fill pages with photos, magazine snippets, doodles, receipts, stickers, postcards, whatever you may find! (Look at junk journaling, for example.)

Mistakes will happen. Your pages don't have to look perfect. Scribble, draw over, paint over, rip out a page, or stick pages together if you want to start over. It's okay.

Find out what YOU enjoy using. Find a pen that's most comfortable for you, find stickers of your favourite characters, washi tape in pretty patterns, or maybe invest in a printer. It's all about YOU.

Journals are a good way to reflect and look back at how much you've grown. Even if you don't feel like you've gotten anywhere, the pages you have filled are proof that you are still moving forward.

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[kjhmyg]

rough edges pt. 18 pairing: jungkook | reader genre: college!au, fluff, slight angst word count: 16k warnings: mentions of death, drugs, executions, drinking, anxiety, weapons. 

summary: when you uncover your boyfriend's private life, a deep dive into it sucks you in as you try to help save him from himself.

a/n: one more chapter and one epiloque, and it's goodbye :( anw if u can guess my fave anime character i'll post the next part this weekend maybe

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 6.5 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / part 18 / masterlist

RE asks tag / pinterest board

Hundreds Arrested in Biggest Drug Raid of The Decade

Big Time Underground Crime Boss Taken Down 

Uncovered: An imminent underground trafficking ring busted by Department of Justice

Joint Efforts of the Police Department & DEA sees an end to Infamous Drug Lord’s Operations

⎼

“Y/n.”

A familiar presence wraps around you like a warm blanket, feeling strangely at ease every time you hear that gentle whisper of your name. Every time it calls out to you, you feel yourself inching closer to the surface of reality. 

At times when it goes quiet, you feel yourself regressing back into your cocoon and wait in silence, hoping for its return. Soft murmurs begin to dance around you, and you shake your head to shoo them away in protest, covering your ears every time they get louder, which happens every time the voice disappears. 

Arms wrapped around your legs, and head between your knees, you wait for it to come back. It feels like hours have gone by and you almost give up, until you feel something touching you, for the first time in a long while. 

Cautiously lifting your head, your eyes land on the familiar hand resting atop yours. His gorgeous eyes lure you out of the darkness and soon your hand is in his, embracing the warmth it provides. 

Jungkook helps you to your feet, and in a fraction of a second, you’re walking down the footpath of a park he used to take you in the middle of the night for a quick date. Arms swinging in between, you can’t help but to sneak glances every now and then, as if to make sure he’s still there. 

When you reach your usual spot, atop a hill with a wide view of the park and the open sky above, Jungkook grabs both your hands. He’s looking down at you, eyes roaming over your face before landing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I love you, Jungkook.” You whisper, hands on the sides of his face. He only smiles in response, and you wish he would let you hear his voice again. 

His attention suddenly turns to the bright moon above, as if it were bothering him. Following his gaze, you notice how unusually bright it seems to be. You’ve spent many nights here, lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. You can tell something’s not right. 

The glow emanating from the orb gets brighter, forcing you to turn away. 

“Jungkook?” 

When you look back, he’s gone, hand no longer in yours and nowhere to be found. The shine from above continues to blind you. You hold your arm up to shield yourself from the glare.

Somewhere in the distance, the murmuring starts once again, coming towards you from all sides. This time getting progressively louder. It’s a mixture of drowned out voices and screaming, and suddenly you can’t breathe. 

You shut your eyes to make it stop, only to feel yourself choking, struggling to breathe. When you open your eyes, the memory you tried hard to suppress comes back to haunt you, manifesting itself. 

Hongjun’s arm is around your neck, with a gun pointed to your head. A bunch of faceless officers stand before you, some in position to shoot. Then you hear him. Jungkook.

He’s running towards you at full speed, shouting something you can’t hear, hearing drowned out by a buzzing sound. 

Everything moves in slow motion, and your vision starts to blur. As you fight to keep your balance while struggling to breathe, you see Hongjun’s arm move in one swift motion, aiming for Jungkook. The last thing you see are his wide eyes, before a loud bang rings in your ear and you’re falling again. 

A sharp gasp tears from your lips, “Jungkook!” your blurt out as you suck in a breath of air, jolting upright, feeling as though you just surfaced from being underwater. Your heart booms in your chest and your eyes squint at the sudden brightness. The beeping sound somewhere near you keeps you on edge. 

“Hey you’re okay,” a voice comes up to you, a comforting hand on your back, “you’re okay my love. I’m here.” 

You look up at the worried face of your father, hovering over you with worried eyes. You will yourself to take deep breaths, trying to stay grounded. “I can’t breathe.”

“I’m gonna go get the doctor.” Hana says quickly, running out the room. 

Within the next minute, you’re surrounded by nurses, feeling the comforting grip of your dad slipping away. It all happens way too quickly, and eventually the darkness takes over once again, as your eyelids fall shut. 

⎼

It was different this time, the darkness was short-lived, and felt more like an afternoon nap. You open your eyes to the same bright room, the sounds of newspapers flipping to your left. Though still feeling sore, you slowly turn to where your dad rests with one leg over another, glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. 

The front page of the paper catches your eye; NOTORIOUS DRUG LORD TAKEN DOWN splashes across the top half of the paper, in bold. As he moves to flip the page, he notices you’re awake. 

“Hi,” your voice comes out hoarse.

“Well hello.” He sets the paper aside and gives you his full attention. Warm hands stroke the top of your head, thumb slowly caressing your forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

The question brings about a surge of emotions from your chest, heaving as you fight back a huge sob. Tears fall down your face anyways, and a machine behind you starts beeping, startling you. Your dad hushes you, wiping away the stray tears. “Where’s Jungk⎼”

“Good afternoon.” A nurse comes in to check your vitals, interrupting your question. “Oh perfect, you’re awake!” She frees you from some of the wires and the beeping finally stops. As she checks things off the clipboard, you see the door behind her swing open gently and Hana’s face emerges. 

“You’re up!” She beams, almost dropping the box of pastries in her arms. 

The nurse smiles. “Everything looks good, miss. I’ll put in an order for a meal; no solid foods yet.” She points to the pastries with the back of her pen, “You haven’t eaten in three days, so we’ll start with porridge. The doctor will come around in the evening to do a full checkup.” 

“Perfect, thank you.” Your dad says. 

Hana sets her stuff down before going over to give you a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I was out for three days?” You ask, realising it was much longer than it felt like. You don’t even know what day it is. 

“Yeah,” she says, “we were worried but the doctor said they didn’t find anything unusual. Your body probably shut down from the shock of it all.” 

You play with the blanket covering your bottom half. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

Your dad’s hand wraps around yours again. “All that matters is that you’re safe now.” The stress of the last couple of days is evident by the bags under his eyes. 

With a deep sigh, you look at yourself, bruises and marks over your arm on the side where you fell, a scrape on the side of your cheek, and a bandage around your head. It throbs still. 

“You had a concussion,” Hana reads the look on your face, “do you remember what happened?” 

You wish you could forget. Blinking away the urge to cry, you nod. 

“Hongjun…” 

She doesn’t urge you to continue, instead places a firm hand over yours. “It’s okay.” 

Many questions swim through your dad’s mind, you can see it in his eyes. “You knew him,” he says, more as a realisation than a question. Despite the disapproval of his features, he pushes your hair back affectionately, “I figured you were just at the wrong place, wrong time but if you knew him all along… what did you get yourself into?” 

“I⎼” Words fail you, how could you tell him everything that’s unfolded in the last couple of months? He doesn’t even know you were kidnapped, you dread how he’d react once he finds out. “It’s⎼ it’s a long story…”

He heaves out a long sigh, trying to make sense of it all. How could his daughter be involved in the biggest criminal raid of the decade?

At the mention of your involvement, your mind springs back to the only thing you really can think of right now. Evidently, not the right time to be asking this, but there’s nothing more than you need right now than to know if he’s safe. 

“A-any news on Jungkook?” You direct your question to Hana, who momentarily avoids your stare. “Hana? What happened? Is he okay? I need to go see him⎼” 

The two of them try to stop you as you move to get off the bed. Legs already dangling off the side, Hana grabs hold of your arm. “He’s not here.” 

You search her eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“He’s not… well we don’t know what happened to him.” 

A wave of panic washes over you and you can’t ignore the way your heart is bursting out of your chest. Your dad guides you back to your bed, willing you to calm down and you try. The throbbing in your head gets worse with every move, and you can barely keep your eyes open or stand the bright lights. 

You need to find Jungkook. But your body won’t let you. So you shut your eyes to find him again in your dreams. 

Hours later, you wake up to only Hana present, smiling when you start to stir. 

As you sit up, she places a pillow on your lower back. Then brings a cup of water to your lips, urging you to drink up. You hear gentle knocks on the door before it slowly opens and a familiar face enters. He beams at the sight of you, though you don’t reciprocate. 

Hana greets him with a nod and Hoseok takes the seat on the empty side of your bed. “Hey, how are you feeling?” 

“I’ve been better.” You mutter, eyes dropping to the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He hands them to you awkwardly, almost blushing because now Hana’s smirking at him from the other side. “Hana told me you were finally up. I wanted to come see you.” 

“Thanks Hoseok,” you muster up a smile looking at the bouquet, “they’re pretty.” 

You almost miss the way the two of them share an odd look, as if speaking telepathically. When Hana notices you staring, it stops. “Let me help you with that.” She says, relieving you of the flowers. 

An awkward silence fills the room while Hana finds a place for the bouquet on the table. Meanwhile, Hoseok hasn’t stopped staring at you. 

“Hoseok?” He straightens up at the sound of his name. 

“Yeah?” He answers when you take too long to start. 

“Have you heard any news about Jungkook?” You feel sorry for asking, especially after his features drop. But surely he’d know something. He should, Namjoon would’ve told him. “Please tell me. I need to know if he’s okay.” 

“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” he says and you realise now that was what was going on with two of them. “Hana and I asked around for him the night you were admitted, but we couldn’t get anything out of anyone. We have no idea what happened to him, or where he is.” 

“What about Namjoon? Have you asked him?” 

“I haven’t been able to contact him since that night.” Hoseok admits. “We met briefly while he was getting treated. He said he’d call to give me an update but…nothing.” 

“It’s a big case,” Hana chips in, “he’s probably working overtime to settle everything before⎼”

“I don’t care about the case,” you say curtly, “I just want to know if my boyfriend is alright. The last thing I saw was Hongjun shooting in his direction, I have to know if he’s dead or alive!” 

“Y/N,” Hana squeezes your hand when your breathing gets erratic, “it’s not like we’re hiding anything from you.” 

“We want to find him too. I double checked with the nurses the morning after,” Hoseok says, “but they said there’s no such patient.”

“He couldn’t have just disappeared.” 

“Maybe he did.” Hana says, “it’s not impossible right? If he’s caught, it’s bad, right?” 

She has a point. You consider the possibility that he could’ve ran off when he got the chance. Staying would mean he’d be under police custody. 

You stare at the blanket in front of you. “You’re right. Maybe he did run off…”

The tension in the room disperses slightly, Hoseok’s shoulders drop as you speak and Hana takes a seat.

“Sorry everyone,” you’re embarrassed at the way you snapped earlier, “I’m just really worried. I swear I thought he…”

“You went through a lot…we understand.” Hoseok says. 

The rest of the evening floats by, despite their efforts to distract you from worrying, you can’t seem to shake off the feeling in your chest. Hoseok’s laughter fills the room as they carry the conversation, and you smile every now and then, feigning interest.

⎼

Perhaps it’s the complete silence in your room that was driving you nuts, or the fact that you’d been asleep for three days prior, you just can’t seem to doze off. You’d requested everyone to take the night off, including your dad, knowing they’d spent the last few nights with you. 

Turning on your side, you spot a bouquet of your favourite flowers with a chocolate bar snuck in between the stalks. A little note is taped to it. 

I heard chocolates are good for the brain. heh. - Mia 

p.s I’m three doors down

The dimly lit hallway stretches all the way to the other end. Sitting on one of the empty seats along the hall, a security officer gives you a once over, surprised to see you up. The only other people around are two nurses at the station, busy with work and yet to notice you. Quietly, you tiptoe down the hall.

“Ma’am, aren’t you supposed to stay in bed?” The officer stands in your way, glancing at the fall risk tag around your wrist. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” You smile sheepishly, and put a finger to your lips. “Are you…guarding someone?” 

He shakes his head, “It’s just protocol. Most of the patients on this floor were admitted the same night. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Oh.” 

“I really think you should get back inside.” 

“I just want to stretch my legs.” You say, “Please. I’ve been in bed for days…” 

Despite his initial hesitation, he nods and lets out a sigh. “Fine. But don’t look at me if the nurses come for you.”

You give him an okay. If the patients in this hallway were there that night, could Jungkook be one of them? With a hint of hope, you walk past the rooms, scanning the names of the patients on the doors. 

You come to a stop three doors down. Amelia Han. Is this Mia? You gently push the handle down and the door open, trying not to make a sound. As the door clicks behind you, nerves settle in your tummy, and you see the bottom half of the bed, the rest of it covered by the curtain.

Peeking around the half-drawn fabric, you feel a sudden overwhelming sense of heartache and guilt.

“Mia,” you whisper. 

She turns at the sound of your voice. With as much energy as she can muster up, she pushes herself up to greet you with her warm smile. “Y/N.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” you run into her, and your arms wrap around each other, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you out of there. How are you?”

“Stop, it’s not your fault,” she chuckles, “I’m happy to see you too. I’m better now.” 

“That’s good.” Your eyes drift to the bandage on the side of the head, almost matching yours. “What did the doctor say?” 

“Concussion,” she shrugs, “and smoke inhalation apparently.” 

“Oh right,” you cringe, getting flashbacks of that night, “there was a fire and smoke everywhere. I tried to drag you out but then…” 

She watches you intently, grabbing your hand when your voice fades, “You don’t have to explain, I know you did what you could. It’s not like you made it out without getting hurt either. You had it worse than I did.” 

“You heard about that?” 

“I saw it on the news.” She says, “The police wouldn’t tell me anything, but I checked with the nurses and they told me you were just a couple doors down.” 

“They already came to see you? The police?” 

“Yeah for a bit,” she nods, “Since I was a bartender there. They were asking a lot of questions, but I could barely concentrate. So they told me they’ll get me in for a proper interview once I’m discharged.” 

“I see. Won’t be long before they start knocking on my door too.” You sigh. 

Mia watches your eyes glaze over as you drift into your thoughts, barely moving save for the breaths you take. She taps you on your cheek. “I lost you there for a moment.”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, feeling embarrassed.

“Something’s bothering you,” she says, as a matter of factly, “talk to me, I’m here for you.” 

The heaviness weighing in your chest is begging for a release. Still, you’re unsure if it’s something you should be burdening Mia with, despite her receptiveness. She urges you once again, and you heave out a loaded breath. 

“The last thing I remember was Jungkook running towards me, screaming my name. Hongjun’s gun was pointing towards him…I swear everything was going hazy at that point, and I felt like I was drowning or something. But I know for sure his gun went off, because there was a loud boom, like⎼ like an explosion and then my ears starting ringing and I was falling and⎼” 

A firm squeeze around your hand keeps you grounded when the words start spilling out.

“And I don’t know what happened to Jungkook…” 

A stray tear falls, and seconds later you break down into soft weeps as Mia lets you have her shoulder, a soothing hand over your back. She’s worried too, from the lack of response, and when you pull away, her brows are furrowed as if trying to make sense of your story. 

“He can’t be…” she shakes her head, “He was probably admitted as well.” 

“My friends checked, there’s no record of him.” 

Mia thinks, grabbing her phone on the side table. You never got yours back after Hongjun kidnapped you. Her finger hovers over Jungkook’s name for a second before pressing the call and putting it on loudspeaker. But it was over before it even began. No dial tone, just a pause before a long beep and the call ends.

“He probably ran off, right?” You ask, seeking validation.

“Y-yeah!” She huffs out a smile, one you can see right through. “Probably! Maybe at the other end of the planet right now enjoying a nice drink! Nothing better than what I could make though.” 

Giggling follows, but you both know it only masks your concerns. 

“Crazy how this turned out…” Mia says softly. 

“Right? Crazy…” You sigh, mindlessly touching the area around your neck, still sensitive to touch.

Mia notices, and says, “At least he won’t hurt us anymore. When I saw the clip of him dropping to the ground⎼ I was strangely relieved.” 

“Wait, Hongjun…he got⎼ is he?” 

Mia studies your face. “He’s dead.” 

A recollection of moments where your paths had crossed with him flash through your mind, though none pleasant. From the first time you spotted him at the diner, to the times you conspired with him, and right down to the moments before he held you hostage, staring at the body of Taeho at the foot of the steps.

He hadn’t been at the forefront of your mind, nor your interest. But the thought of him being gone is shocking nonetheless, leaving you with a strange feeling. 

⎼

“Seems like we’ve got a solid case,” The superintendent removes his glasses and shuts the file on his desk. “But before the trial, we do need to double check and triple check that we have every evidence, every report, every witness on record. I know it took a lot to get this far, everyone did an excellent job.” 

“Thank you, sir.” The chief of police stands behind the two men seated before the superintendent. Placing his hands on each of their shoulders, he nods. “All thanks to these two. They led the entire operation, from start to end.” 

“It was a team effort.” Seokjin says. 

Namjoon agrees, “Everyone did their parts well. Including Jun’s team.” 

“That’s good to hear. We’ll arrange for a meeting with everyone present so we can go through this together and prepare everyone for the trials. It’s a big case, every little detail can and will be questioned.” 

“Yes sir.” They say in unison. 

“I’ll be in touch.” He nods, “Dismissed.” 

As they move to leave the room, Namjoon stops short of the door and turns back. “Sorry sir, I do have one last question.” 

“What is it, detective?”

“My informant, he was a huge help in⎼”

“Yes, I’ve received your request for immunity.” He says, noticing the look of worry on Namjoon’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m looking into it.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

⎼

The ride to the station was nerve-wracking. But you had no reason to be nervous, you reminded yourself multiple times as the officer led you to the interrogation room. 

“Just standard procedure.” He says as you take a seat. Pressing your fingers to the spot under your jaw, you take deep breaths to calm yourself. It had taken everything in you not to panic when Hana, Hoseok and your dad were told to wait downstairs. 

A minute later the door clicks open and you breathe out in relief to see your lawyer coming through. Soo Ah had been the one to contact you, offering her services. After checking out some of her previous work, you decided to let her help you. “Sorry I'm late.” She mutters, pulling up the seat next to you. 

“Not at all.” You smile.

She carries a strong aura which gives you a sense of protection. “You ready?” She asks. “Remember, stick to what we discussed.”

You nod, taking a deep breath.  

Seconds later, a detective enters, carrying with him a bunch of files. He sets a notepad in front of him and starts with the formalities. “This should be fairly quick, we’d just like to ask a couple of questions pertaining to the night of the incident.” 

You nod, suddenly feeling like a lock had tightened over your lips. 

“So, to start off, could you tell me what happened that night?” He smiles, pen hovering over the paper. 

Your lawyer nods reassuringly, having already gone over what you were going to say the day before. “I was there with a friend. But I lost her in the crowd. Then there was the fire and I couldn’t find my way out. I thought I could run out the back or through a window….or something…”

Your voice fades off towards the end and your lawyer places her hand to the small of your back. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “That’s when I bumped into him…” 

The detective nods, writing it all down. “And do you visit this club often?” 

“Quite. It’s where everyone goes.” 

“I see.” He says. “And have you ever seen that man before that night?” 

“I⎼”

The door bursts open and all heads turn to it. You hear his voice before he makes his entrance and your heart skips a beat. “Sorry everyone, I had a meeting to attend to.”

The younger detective stands to greet him, startled. “Detective Kim,” he fixes his tie, “I was told to stand in for the interview. We’re in the middle of it right now.”

“Thank you detective,” Namjoon smiles, offering his hand for a shake, “but I’m here now. So I’ll be taking over. Would that be okay with you?” 

The question was directed to you. And you blink in surprise. 

“What is this?” Your lawyer steps in. “Please don’t waste any more of my client’s time. You should’ve sorted this out before the appointment.” 

“My apologies.” Namjoon says. He nods to the other guy, who then nods in understanding and quietly dismisses himself. “Let’s continue.” 

He looks at the notes previously written by the other detective. “Okay, so have you ever seen that man before that night?” 

“Um,” your throat goes dry, feeling the weight of their stares at you. You hadn’t considered that Namjoon would be the one asking the questions. “N-no. I haven’t.”

Namjoon smiles. “Okay. Did you see anything before the incident? Anything suspicious? Perhaps something that would make you a target?”

“Are you suggesting my client had involvement in the events of that night?”

“I’m asking if she had witnessed anything she wasn’t supposed to, which made her a target.” 

His eyes shift to you. 

“No.”

“It’s just a matter of being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” Your lawyer continues, “like she said earlier, she was trying to find a way out, but ran into him instead.” 

“Hm.” Namjoon nods, pressing his lips together. He opens up one of the files which show a string of pictures. Some of them you recognise from Hongjun’s team, and Hongjun was among them. “Do you recognise any of these men?” 

He slides the file closer to you. Your breath shakes as you take a look and you point to Hongjun’s photo. “Him.”

“Just him?” 

You look again, clearly recognising Taeho and Junho. You nod. “Just him. He was the one who took me hostage.” 

“Alright.” Namjoon nods. “Anything else you would like to share with us?” 

He keeps a straight face, but his brows raise when you delay your response. “No.” You shake your head. 

“Okay then.” Namjoon nods. “I hope you can rest easy knowing he’s no longer going to cause you trouble. Please let us know if you have any concerns and…that’s all for today. We’ll be in contact if the need arises.” 

Namjoon starts to pack up. Soo Ah does so too and you sit there watching them. For some reason, you’re disappointed at how short this turned out to be, especially since you want more time to speak to Namjoon. 

As you leave the room behind the two of them, you watch Namjoon hold the door open for you. You’re about to leave right behind Soo Ah, while Namjoon is headed in the opposite direction, when you turn back to him. 

“Detective?” You ask and he stops in his tracks. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” 

You look at your lawyer and give her a nod before walking to Namjoon. The hallway is clear, though lined with offices throughout. But the frosted glass offers you some privacy. 

“Namjoon,” you speak in a whisper. 

“We can’t do this right now.” He says in an equally soft tone. “People are watching.”

“I just need to know if he’s okay.”

You look up at him with sad glossy eyes. His shoulders slump like he knows he wants to help but he can’t. “I really can’t say anything right now.” 

“Please at least tell me if he’s ali⎼”

“Detective Kim.” A deep and commanding voice startles you into taking a step back. Namjoon straightens up and nods at the source. The man ignores your presence, grabbing Namjoon by the shoulder, motioning him to come along. “My office please, now. We have to talk about the…”

You watch regretfully as they get further away. Namjoon turns back to you before they take a turn around the corner, his apologetic eyes bore into yours, mouthing a sorry before he disappears from sight.

⎼

3 weeks later , Monday

“I said I’m fine.” 

In fact you’re quite the opposite. And you feel bad for snapping at Hana, you never mean for the words to come out the way they do, but it happens before you can stop yourself. “Sorry…just…don’t worry about me.” 

She looks on with an apprehensive look on her face. Though she wants to help, she knows when not to overstep. 

It’s been three weeks since the incident, two weeks since you were able to be discharged, and a week since it was announced that Kim was dead.

“Big time mob boss, Kim Man Shik, dies following two weeks of intensive care…”

It hits you like a brick the moment it follows with details of the case, and only then had you realised they were talking about Kim. Part of you was relieved, now he would no longer be a threat, no longer a looming danger out to get you. But at the same time, you realise, he’s spared from the consequences he ought to receive. 

Then your mind springs back to Jungkook. Still no news of him. You had no idea if he was dead or alive. Of course, you keep telling yourself that no news is good news. Maybe he managed to escape. Surely if anything had happened to him, they’d come looking for you. 

The lack of clarity surrounding it all leaves you in a state of emotional turmoil. And your friends are at the brunt of it.

“I just need some air, okay?” You don’t spare her a glance as you slip out the door. The temperature’s dropped significantly, sharp winds forcing you to hide your face in a scarf and hands in your pockets.

Since you got back, your trips out of the apartment have consisted mainly of visits to and from the police department to tie up loose ends. Thankfully, none of the questions had been about your relationship to anyone in the club, more so as an ex-employee once they picked up that you used to work there.

You find yourself going down the normal route to school, missing the normalcy of it all. The incident left you on long-term medical leave. Decidedly, your dad wanted you to take the term off, and focus on recovering. You had no say in it, though there was no objection on your part.

But now standing in front of campus, you think maybe a little academic distraction might have been better. Now you’re free to think, and you don’t want to do that. 

“Y/N?” Turning on your heel, you find Hoseok walking out the gate, eyeing you. “I thought that was you. Why are you here?” 

“Getting some air.” 

“Oh.” He waits for you to say something, anything. Instead you continue staring at the campus. “Do you wanna go get one of the crappy food hall meals? I can come with you.” 

“No, thanks.”

“How about the rugby game tonight?” 

He’s only trying to help, you keep reminding yourself. Just like Hana, everyone’s been super nice to you, and you’re appreciative, but after three weeks you’re tired of them walking on eggshells around you. 

You just want things to go back to normal. 

Hoseok was expecting another rejection, waiting as you looked to the ground in contemplation. “How about a drive instead?” You suggest, and his eyes light up.

It’s been months since you’ve been in his car, and he’s more than happy to have you sitting in the passenger seat again. He takes a scenic route, and you spend most of the ride with your attention on what’s outside, though he doesn’t seem to mind. 

The radio plays at a nice volume, not too loud but enough to keep the ride pleasant. He, himself is uncharacteristically quiet, and you know it’s because of you. When you turn to him, his eyes are focused on the road. Yet he doesn’t miss the chance to flash a smile. 

“I never got to thank you,” you say out of the blue. 

He waves you off. “No need for that, I love going on drives.” 

You giggle and it’s music to his ears. After weeks of solemnity, he’s excited to finally get a glimpse of the old you again. “I mean, for everything else, Hoseok.” 

“Oh,” he chuckles. “Nah, don’t mention it.” 

“No seriously.” You face the road this time. “You’re always looking out for me. For us. It’s why I knew I could count on you that night. Thanks for coming over and keeping Hana company.” 

He doesn’t respond for a while, wheels turning in his head. “I froze for a while, you know?” He admits. “When she told me you escaped, but then those men took you away again. I felt so helpless. And when I got to your apartment, we watched the whole thing go down on the news. And all I could do was sit there.” 

“Just because you weren’t the one taking down the bad guys doesn’t mean you were useless.” You say, “At that time, I needed you to be there for Hana. And you were. That itself means the world to me. So thank you.”

He tries to hide the immense joy bubbling in his chest with a tight lipped smile. The car takes an exit up ahead, and you see him driving towards water, a beach just outside of the city. You come to a stop by the side of the road where other cars have parked in a line. He motions for you to get out. 

“Said you wanted some air.” He says, leading the way. 

You walk a step behind him, taking in the salty air and the sounds of waves crashing into the beach. He finds a spot where the grass meets the sand, and plops down, saving the space next to him for you. The two of you sit and watch as other beach-goers go on to live their normal lives, something you envy them for. 

If you close your eyes and imagine hard enough, you transport yourself back to nights with Jungkook. Sitting on the hood of his car, staring up at the night sky. Head resting on his arm, snuggled into his side. You’d go on and on about the day or week you’ve had while he smiles as he listens to you. 

But it’s all just a memory now. 

When you open your eyes, you realise Hoseok is watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Still worried about him?” 

Everyone has basically made up their mind on Jungkook’s disappearance. They believe he managed to escape somehow. That he’s laying low in a different state, different country, trying to start fresh. Though you want to feel the same, you just can’t shake this feeling inside you that it’s not the case. 

“Always.” You say. “I have so many questions. But no one has the answers.” 

It’s hard for Hoseok, not knowing how to comfort you, not when he doesn’t have the answers himself. How does he reassure you that everything will be okay? The only person that can do that now is Jungkook. 

That’s not to say that he didn’t try to help. On his own, he’d gone to several hospitals in the city, just in case Jungkook had admitted himself there. But he came up empty. Still, you were thankful for his efforts. 

“Sorry.” He says and you question it. 

“For what? You did more than I ever asked of you.” From the look on his face, you can tell he wants to do even more, anything to cheer you up. “I should be sorry for troubling you.” 

“You’ve never troubled me,” he says. The lingering stare is one loaded with his feelings for you. Which is another thing you feel sorry for. As if he could read your mind, he says, “You know I’m glad you guys met.” 

You wait for him to go on, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“No one has had quite the effect on him as you have.” He smiles, although heavy-hearted. “Even I was going to give up on him. Kick him out of the house. Then you came and everything changed.”

“Yet it turned out exactly as you predicted it would.”

“Some things we have no control over,” he sighs, pressing his lips into a line, “but in hindsight, he was a lot better after you came into his life. The Jungkook I knew before that was a far cry from your Jungkook. Even though he still hates me, shouts at me, rolls his eyes whenever I speak…wait what was the point I was trying to make?”

You laugh out loud for the first time in weeks, feeling the stretch of your cheeks. The dynamic these two have was never something you could help with. They just don’t go well together, like water and oil. 

“Just kidding,” he chuckles too, “I was too harsh on him.”

“You meant well.”

“I said things that I shouldn’t have. I just couldn’t understand why he was like that.” Hoseok looks down at the sand, drawing lines with a twig. “But after the conversation we had, I realised maybe instead of trying to get him to understand me, I should’ve tried to understand him instead. I barely know anything about him, so why was I trying to change him so badly?”

You wonder what Jungkook would think if he were to hear Hoseok saying any of this. 

“He was right, I did have a saviour complex. And he was the perfect victim. I just had to meddle, had to call Namjoon and tell him about the drugs.” Hoseok’s startled when he feels your palm on his shoulder. He hadn’t realised he was monologuing. He’s here to comfort you, not the other way around. He shakes his head. “Sorry. The last few weeks got me thinking, that’s all.”

“Everything you did came from a good place.”

A bitter smile flashes across his face, one that turns apologetic when he looks you in the eyes. “I even tried to pit you against him, remember?” 

You sigh, closing the gap between you. Your knees brush against each other. “We’re all flawed in some way. You had good intentions, but maybe the delivery was bad. Jungkook heard you but he couldn’t feel you. And yeah, sometimes…our emotions get the better of us.”

He avoids eye contact when you tilt your head to look at him. 

“At some point, you changed targets and instead of trying to protect him, you wanted to protect me.”

He makes a guttural sound, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm. “Embarrassing.”

“Yeah.”

At that, he shoots you a look and you both break into a fit of laughter after a second. “Jokes aside, you’ve done more good than harm, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a really good friend.”

“So are you.” His hand rests atop your head, ruffling your hair and you shove him in protest. 

⎼

Tuesday

Mia hooks her arm around yours, trying to match your step as you walk. “The word going around is that someone ratted on Kim, disclosed their plans that night. He was going to leave with Mr. B till they were ambushed.” 

“Really? Wow,” your try and piece the timeline together in your mind, wondering who it could’ve been, “that’s surprising considering how loyal everyone seemed to be.”

“Hey, when you’re in deep trouble, you’re gonna do everything it takes to save yourself.” 

“Right.” You nod, “Who told you all of this anyway?”

“A friend of a friend of a friend.” She gives you a look. “When you’ve made enough connections in this line, it’s easy to fish for info. But you know, take them with a grain of salt. Not everything is true.” 

“Does anyone happen to have tea on Jungkook?” You ask, half joking, half serious. 

“I tried.” She pouts, shaking her head. “That’s what’s weird, no one’s seen him since. I guess maybe he did escape after all?” 

Your shoulders slump and you find interest in the ground. The more everyone grows into the idea of him having run off, the more you lean away from it. 

“Why? You don’t think so?” Mia tilts her head, looking at the lines on your forehead that form when you frown.

An exasperated sigh leaves you. “I don’t know. Like you said, it’s odd. My friends seem to think he did run off though.” 

“Is that why you’re upset at them?” 

“I’m not upset at them.” Your friends would disagree, “It just feels shitty every time they try to make me think the same. What if I don’t believe that he ran off?”

“Do you?”

You think about it for a moment. “I just have a feeling that he’s still here.” 

“That could be true too,” Mia says, “when I say escape, I don’t mean he’s left to another country, he’s probably gone underground. I doubt he’d let himself get caught. He’s been doing this for years, don’t you think he’d know where to go, who to go to?” 

“No, you’re right,” you laugh it off, but she recognises the bitterness of the sound. “I guess I just…I’m worried about him.”

Her shoulder gently nudges yours, and you perk up. “Of course you are, you have every right to be.”

“I’d be happy if he’s safe somewhere far away, but no one can confirm that,” you say, “so how can I go about my life normally without knowing for sure that he’s fine?”

Mia listens, nodding her head. 

“What if Hongjun did shoot him that night? Did he get help? Is he well? Is he even alive?...” 

Your voice drifts off towards the end and your steps get slower. The thought is always at the back of your mind, though you try hard not to think about it. What if he’s actually dead? And that’s why no one knows where he is? What if he’s lying somewhere in the middle of an alley or an abandoned warehouse?

Mia’s fingers dig into your shoulders, shaking you out of it. Her brown eyes lock in on yours, hypnotising you with her spirit. “You’re spiralling. Stop doing this to yourself.”

You take a deep breath, “Sorry. Ever since Kim’s death I just keep wondering if Jungkook too…”

“Until we know for sure, don’t let those thoughts consume you.” 

“I wish it were that easy.” you carry on walking. 

“Consider this, you don’t know where Suga is either right?”

You stop in your tracks. As embarrassing as it is, you hadn’t considered Suga in all of this. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally palming yourself for overlooking the one person that’s always had Jungkook’s back. Mia raises her brows, knowing she’s made a point. 

“Why didn’t I think of that?” You ask in a whisper.

“Cause you have tunnel vision when it comes to Jungkook.” She chuckles. “But for real, they could have escaped together. And if he has Suga by his side, I’m sure he’s okay. Although…”

“What?” 

The hopeful look she had on earlier briefly vanishes. “I do have some info. Which may or may not be true but⎼ I know a guy who used to bartend with me at the club like a year ago, he thinks he saw Suga on the other side of the city; you know, where the rich people live.”

“Huh. What would he be doing there?” 

“Beats me,” she pouts, “he said he was going for his shift at the Grand Lot or something. And he may have seen someone that looks like Suga walking past him.”

“Wait, do you mean Grandeur Loft?” 

Mia’s brows knit together as she tries to recall. “I think so?” 

That’s the apartment building you’d been to previously. The address on the paper. Where you’d woken up in that one morning. What would Suga be doing there? 

“Then another contact of mine told me Suga was seen with this one guy; he deals with IDs and stuff. Passports, VISAs, everything.”

“Oh,” it hits you, “so that means…they could’ve left.”

“Maybe. But they weren’t a hundred percent sure it was him.” Mia shrugs. “But, I am still inclined to believe those two are together somewhere.”

It gives you a glimmer of hope to know he might not be alone after all. If anyone out there would make sure Jungkook’s okay, it’d be Suga. 

“Okay, this is good.” You nod, and Mia laughs. “I mean I’m not happy that Suga’s also missing, but⎼”

“Chill, I get it.” 

“Thank you Mia.” 

She smiles and goes in for a hug. 

While Mia had left you in quite a good mood earlier in the morning, night time comes and you stay tossing and turning still. It’s become a routine, only being able to fall asleep once your mind is fully tired out from overthinking. 

Suga being missing might not mean anything, what if Jungkook’s not even with him? And was he really at Grandeur Loft? What for? But no. No one was sure it was him. He might not even be alive. Ugh. You curse your brain for always thinking of the worst.

You turn to your side, and your eyes land on a bouquet of flowers that you got. It was delivered in the morning, just before you left to meet with Mia. In a hurry, you had quickly placed it in a glass cup and left it on your table without much thought. 

Thinking back, it hadn’t come with a note, nor a name from the delivery man. 

Your phone screen blinds you momentarily as you move to search for the type of flowers they were. After five minutes of scrolling, you find a match. Forget-Me-Nots. 

You have never received Forget-Me-Nots before. They’re a peculiar choice, you think. But only in comparison to the flowers you’ve gotten over the last few weeks from friends and colleagues. 

You click on a link explaining the meaning of this specific flower. 

‘..Represents true love…It is a testament to your relationships and promises the other person that you will never forget them in your thoughts…”

A weird feeling creeps its way to your heart.

⎼

Wednesday

The next day, you decide to head back to work. An ongoing 1-for-1 coffee deal was happening, and the manager had asked if you were good to come down and support the team. Of course, you jumped at the chance. It’s refreshing to step back in the cafe, the smell of brewing coffee and freshly baked pastries giving you life. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get back into the hang of it, though you were tasked only to handle the drinks with two others. 

As you carry out an order, placing coffee, milk and ice cubes into the blender, put it on medium speed, you look at the tag to make sure it’s right. A caramel frappuccino. Jungkook’s regular order.

You let yourself dwell on it for a minute. But then realise there’s no time to get distracted. You top it with whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel, before placing it on the counter and yelling out the order. One after the other, the orders kept coming, and you worked on drink after drink, without so much as a glance at the customers, appearing only as a blur of faces crowded around the collection area.

By the end of the day, you were slumped. Maybe coming back on a busy day wasn’t the best idea, but you felt a semi-semblance of normalcy again. 

The last few customers remain as you start closing. You go around clearing the tables and returning dishes to the kitchen. The last table at the back grabs your attention, the chair being pushed in, and the finished cup placed neatly, with a serviette neatly placed next to it. 

It had writing on it, and while you usually would not spare it another glance, something about the way it was organised made you curious. So you unfolded the napkin and felt a knot in your stomach.

You make the best caramel frappe. 

A sharp gasp leaves your lips. There was no name on the cup, nor do you remember seeing his face, but the thought lingers, could it have been Jungkook? Your chest tightens at the possibility. 

You look out the glass windows, searching for anyone you might recognise. A few tables down, Hana notices, and she follows your line of sight. “What’s wrong?” She asks, brows furrowed. 

“Oh. Nothing.” You smile, turning back around. 

You go back to clearing tables and finish closing with the team, pushing the note to the back of your mind. But as soon as you’re safe in your room, you remove the crumpled napkin from your pocket, and stare at it again. 

You then find yourself rummaging through a stack of papers on your table, searching for the one assignment you recall Jungkook having left on your table. You feel that squeeze in your chest as you place the paper and napkin side by side, studying the handwriting. 

Jungkook.

As you drop into your chair, your eyes find the flowers from yesterday. The purple, blue and white flowers look prettier than before. What are the odds that the flowers and this note came to you consecutively?  Your hands shake as you let your fingers graze along the petals.

There’s no way of knowing if you’re right, but you know it’s him. You just know it. 

A sudden swelling of your heart leaves you in tears.

For the first time in a while, your mind is clear. A huge weight has been lifted, and a surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins. It’s him. 

He’s alive.

⎼

Thursday

The following day, you go back to the cafe despite not having a shift, in case he shows up again. Your mood had improved considerably, earning a curious look from Hana in the morning. You thought of telling her, but stopped yourself in the end. 

She has been extra protective ever since you got discharged. It would only worry her. Not only that, she’s concerned about how fixated you’ve been on Jungkook. Granted, she does understand how you feel, but the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on can’t be healthy for you. 

So telling her you think Jungkook sent you those flowers and the message, would only get her stressed. Even if you showed her the handwriting, she’d have a hard time believing it.

“Hey munchkin,” Taehyung squeezes you in his arms and you chuckle at the random nickname. “You look better.” 

“Thanks I guess.” You smile behind your cup, taking a sip. Your eyes fix on the windows, observing every person that walks past. 

“When will you be back?” Jimin takes up the space next to you while Taehyung blocks your strategic view of the cafe doors. 

Jimin looks at you weird when you adjust your seat slightly to the side, eyes glued to the doors. “Oh, I don’t know yet. Maybe after term break.” 

The two of them exchange glances at your odd behaviour. You only notice after the long silence that follows, their stares hooked on you, observing every person that walks into the shop. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not better.” Jimin comments, pulling up the chair next to you, while Taehyung goes into the kitchen for his shift. “What’s up?”

You feign nonchalance, shaking your head at his question, as if you weren’t just staring down every customer. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Been trying to clear out our rooms before break. Mama Hoseok’s driving us nuts.” 

“Clearing your rooms?”

“After the whole drug case the administration wants to do a good sweep of the greek houses,” he clarifies, “so Hoseok thinks it’s a good time for us to do some spring cleaning.” 

“Oh.” You nod, thinking of those who used to get their stash from Jungkook, wondering how they’re fairing. 

“You’re not busy right? Come and help us.” Jimin starts pouting when he sees your apprehension. “Please? Hoseok would be less naggy if you’re around.”

Helping out wasn’t the issue, it was more of not wanting to leave in case Jungkook shows up. But he doesn't know that. You didn’t say a yes, but technically not a no either. So half an hour later, you find yourself walking up the steps of the Omega house, feeling strangely nostalgic, though it hasn’t been that long. But as you reach the top of the steps, you freeze, looking at the door to Jungkook’s room.

You don’t even hear Jimin asking if you’re okay, completely blocking out everything. Until you see Hoseok coming into view from the other side of the corridor. His wide eyes immediately shift over to Jimin. “What are you doing?” 

“I thought she could…you know,” Jimin nods towards Jungkook’s door and Hoseok straightens up with a look that could kill. 

He clenches his teeth, “Are you crazy?” to which Jimin responds with a whisper and you watch as they go back and forth, arguing. 

“I don’t mind.” You interrupt, both eyes drifting over to you.

Hoseok abandons Jimin’s side and a hand rests on your back. “Are you sure about this?” 

You’re not. And it might get too much for you, hell, you froze just looking at the door. But perhaps you needed this. To be surrounded by things that belong to him, in the room he’s spent the last couple of years in. The room you’ve spent several nights wrapped up in his arms. Your heart thumps in your chest as your hand wraps around the doorknob.

Half expecting him to be there, the faint smell of his cologne greets you first, then it opens up to a warm, dusty, untouched room. In your mind you see him, laying on his bed, eyes lighting up at your presence.

“You don’t have to do much, just throw whatever he doesn’t need anymore.” Hoseok says, breaking through your thoughts. It calms you the way he speaks as if he believes Jungkook is coming back. Because even you’re not sure of it at this point. “I’ll leave the trash bag here.”

After reassuring him you’ll be okay, Hoseok finally leaves to give Jimin a piece of his mind in his room. You suck in a breath once you’re alone, closing the door and taking in his room.

The framed picture of you on his side table, wearing his favourite dress, unfortunately placed next to an out of place roll of tissue which you shake your head at. “Disgusting.” You chuckle, tossing the whole roll into the trash. 

A couple more random items you find lying around gets dumped. And you take it upon yourself to tidy up the mess he left, removing the sheets, sorting his stationery, and airing out his wardrobe. Keeping what Jimin said in mind, you did a quick sweep of all the places he could have hidden a secret stash; under the bed, behind furniture and inside the drawers, but came up empty. 

In two hours, it’s sorted. You’re left to bask in the emptiness of the room. You rest on his bed, eventually laying down and staring at the ceiling, trying to recall the feeling of his body right next to yours, arm heavy over your waist, snoring in your ear. You bury your face into his pillow, snaking an arm under it, only to find something else. 

It’s a polaroid of the two of you, taken by one of your friends; he’s behind you, arms wrapped around you with his chin resting on your head, while your head rests on his arm. He wears the biggest grin on his face, one you miss so dearly. 

A knock on the door has you sitting up. It opens slowly and Jimin’s head appears, he looks around and smiles, “Wow! Can you do my room next?”

“For a small fee.”

He groans before the door is being pushed open wide, and Jimin almost trips as he’s dragged along with it. Hoseok comes through and takes a good look around. Jimin rolls his eyes when Hoseok’s back is to him. “See? This is how you do it. Clean, organised.”

“I checked for any hidden packages.” You add, “None.”

Hoseok’s impressed, smiling wide at you, but his smile drops when he turns back to Jimin. “You have till the end of the day before I sort out your room myself.”

Jimin struts off, muttering some curses along the way. Hoseok offers you an apologetic smile when the sound of Jimin’s door slamming shakes the walls. 

“Thank you,” he says, “let me send you back.”

Your feet find it difficult to leave, your steps feel heavy as you make your way out. You make sure to grab one of his sweaters and take a good look once more before closing the door. 

“Keepsake?” He purses his lips to the folded sweater on your lap as he pulls out of the driveway. 

A tender smile crawls across your face. “Yeah.”

“That’s his favourite isn’t it?” Hoseok says, surprising you. “He’s always wearing that. He’s gonna throw a fit when he finds it missing.”

The corners of your lips lower, turning your smile into a look of contemplation. Your eyes set on the fabric and your hands graze the material. The sudden change doesn’t go unnoticed and Hoseok shifts uncomfortably, wondering if he’d said something wrong. “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about that.” 

“No.” You force a smile. “It’s not that.” 

Silence follows as he waits for you to continue. He wishes he could read your mind, because now you’re breaking into another smile. He’s starting to think maybe leaving you with Jungkook’s stuff wasn’t the best idea. 

“You’re actually scaring me.” 

You laugh even more at the genuine fear etched on his face. “I don’t know how to tell you this.” 

With his brows furrowed and knuckled tightening on the steering wheel, he keeps switching his attention between you and the road. He grows impatient when you don’t go on. 

It’s when he stops at a red light, now being able to concentrate on what you’re saying, fully turning his body to you, that you finally decide to speak. 

“I think he’s back.”

⎼

Friday

The school grounds feel oddly unfamiliar after the weeks of absence. Walking down the halls now feels like you’re an outsider. Though, it’s heartwarming to know your classmates have missed you since, running up to you as soon as they catch sight of you to ask how you’ve been.

While the incident was the talk of the town initially, interest about it faded gradually, sparing you from the stares you used to get before taking the term off.

You walk behind Hana, tugging on the back of her top to keep from getting separated. After braving the crowd, you spot the table the boys have reserved on the lawn, Jimin waving in the distance. 

You know what this intervention is about. Across from him, you shoot him a glare, corners of your lips turned down in a frown. Hoseok looks away innocently, holding back a smile. Of course, he’s not trying to be cute, he knows you’re angry. 

“You just had to yap.” You start the conversation, folding your arms on the table. 

“Yeah, not cool dude.” Jimin folds his arms in protest as well.

Hoseok opens his mouth to defend himself but Hana puts her hand up to stop him. The three of you turn your attention to her. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Now I’m even more worried!” She presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “What else have you been hiding from me?” 

“Nothing!” You sigh. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid. But you can’t blame Hoseok entirely, you’d forgotten to tell him to keep it on the low till you have solid proof, so naturally he mentioned it to Hana who all but panicked the night before. 

“What did he give you?”

“It was flowers three days ago.” You’re eyeing Hana, observing her reaction. “Then the next day after my shift, he left a message on a napkin.”

They’re unimpressed. “I compared the handwriting on the napkin with Jungkook’s old assignment and they match!” 

“So many people have similar handwriting.” Hoseok argues, then shuts his lips when you narrow your eyes at him. “I’m just saying.” 

“He’s right though,” Jimin says, “what did he write on the napkin?”

“That I make the best caramel frappe.”

Hana groans and they simultaneously shift in their seats, finding it hard to understand your logic. Even Jimin, who was on your side earlier, presses his lips into a thin line, as if he’d have to break your bubble of delusion. 

“That could’ve been anyone,” Hana reasons, “probably a flirty customer.”

“A caramel frappuccino is Jungkook’s regular order. It’s like a thing he used to say to me, that he only ever likes the ones I make.” You’re borderline sounding desperate. “And the flowers? Do you guys know what forget-me-nots mean? He’s basically telling me he’s still thinking of me. I wasn’t sure the first time but now, I’m positive it’s him.”

“I don’t know,” Hana thinks about it, “I feel like I need more than that.”

“Wouldn’t he have tried contacting you first? Like a text or something?” Jimin asks. 

You angle your head towards him and raise a brow. “I don’t have my phone, dummy. Lost it when I got kidnapped, remember?” 

“Oh right…” He trails off, deep in though. 

Your hand rests atop Hana’s, and you look her in the eye. “I know it’s him, trust me.”

“I do trust you.” She places her free hand on yours. “But I’m just not convinced it’s him. Not based on handwriting alone.”

“Well what do you want him to do?” 

“Show up.” Jimin says mindlessly, shrugging when the other two look at him. He’s saying what they’re thinking. 

Hana plays with her fingers for a few seconds, “Well, yeah actually.” 

“We just can’t be sure it’s him.” Hoseok says, “Unless we know it’s him…it could literally be anyone. Unless he actually shows his face and⎼”

“Well he can’t exactly do that right now, can he?”

The bitterness that seeps through your words cuts them like a knife. It’s been a touchy subject from the beginning and they’re always careful with what they say. 

“I feel like none of you actually want him to come back.”

“It’s not that,” Hana sighs, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up about something that may not even be true.”

Though you saw it coming, and you know you’re being overly sensitive about this, it still hurts to know they don’t believe it’s him. That they’d rather believe he’d be okay with leaving halfway across the world without so much as a word to you, without thinking of you. 

And maybe that’s what really scares you. To think that it’s possible he’s really gone, and okay with being without you. 

“Whatever,” you mutter as you get up, without so much as another glance at them. 

You hear them calling your name as you go, but you don’t turn, running into the crowded mess of the halls once again and rushing out. You hold back tears, not wanting to make a scene, or let anyone catch you crying. 

That night, you skip dinner, telling Hana you’re not hungry when she knocks on your door. You feel bad, but it would be worse to face her when you’re just not in the mood. Lying on your front, you start to wonder if it really was your imagination. Maybe you wanted it to be him so badly, you started to make sense of what didn’t. Maybe it was just a flirty customer. Maybe the flowers were from someone else entirely. 

How could you be so stupid to think that any of that was Jungkook? Maybe it’s time you accept that he’s gone for now. Even just the thought of him not coming back overwhelms you and your eyes burn as tears start to fall again.

You sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any longer. You need a distraction. It’s been a long time since you enjoyed a good movie or listened to some songs, so you flip your laptop open.

You click on the green icon on your screen and your spotify opens up, immediately overwhelming you with choices of playlists. You scroll through your original playlists, looking for a specific one, but find something odd. 

There’s one playlist you don’t remember creating. 

for my love ♡

You prop yourself up on your elbows, unable to contain the beating of your heart against your chest. Jungkook and you have been using a shared account, mainly because he doesn’t listen to music much, so he hijacks yours instead. 

You click on the playlist, brewing with anticipation. The songs were added just yesterday. Your breathing gets erratic as you try to keep your composure, and you look through the songs. 

hey lover! - wabie

miss you, dear - bol4

save your tears - the weeknd, arianna grande

love is not over - bts

love. - wave to earth

come back to me - R.M.

i swear i’ll never leave again - keshi

see you - amin, dept

p.s. i love you - paul partohap

still with you - jung kook

All doubt that clouded your mind just a minute ago vanishes into thin air. You were right, you were right all along. No longer do you doubt yourself and the love Jungkook has for you. Heart swelling with the love you have for him, you wish you could be with him right now, showing him how much he means to you. 

You close your eyes and let the music run, listening to the message of each song he’s chosen. You don’t know what to do with all the emotions going through you right now. Tears keep falling, but happy ones this time. 

You lie there, imagining being back in his arms, feeling his presence right next to you. 

⎼

Saturday

The playlist is your secret to keep. Partly because of yesterday’s events, but it also felt too intimate to be shared with anyone. Right now, it’s something between Jungkook and you, and you want to keep it that way. Waking up with a clearer mind, you head out. Just on your own this time. 

You couldn’t have asked for better weather; blue skies and a gentle breeze. White fluffy clouds follow you from the sky, as if excited to spend the day with you. After breakfast, you make your way to a huge bookstore that had just opened up, spending hours just browsing their collection and ending up with five new books.

By the afternoon, your body aches for your routine nap. But you carry on. Every time you pass by an alley, or a vacated building, you can’t help but to wonder where Jungkook is right now. Now that you know he’s alive, your shoulders feel a little less heavy. 

But you miss him still. 

The park serves as your next stop, the smell of the earth swallowing you whole in its embrace. You take a stroll, stopping to watch little children feed the ducks, petting several dogs on a walk, and watching teens play basketball on the court. 

You only pause when you reach your favourite spot. One where you spent many date nights with Jungkook. You’d seen it in your dreams while you were lying in the hospital, and your mind flashes back to it, how it ended…and you feel your energy draining even more. 

You simply walk past it, refusing to go back to the spot till you’re hand in hand with Jungkook. 

In the shade of a large tree, you find an empty bench and your back thanks you when you finally settle down. Perhaps your body has gotten too comfortable at home. You reach into your bag and pull one of the books you got and flip it open. 

An hour goes by before you realise someone has taken the seat next to you. You had been so absorbed you didn’t even notice. He quietly munches on a hotdog bun, watching the kids play football on the open grass on the other side of the footpath. His side profile gives off a strangely familiar vibe, but you can’t put your finger on it. 

“Glad to see you’re well.” He says before taking another bite, still facing forward. 

You crane your neck and scan the surrounding area. Is he talking to you? You scoot away slightly. 

Noticing this, he chuckles, “Don’t panic, y/n.”

“How do you know my name?” 

That’s when he snaps his head towards you, finally giving you the missing puzzle you needed. “Seokjin,” you say in a whisper, “you look different.”

He checks his casual attire; khaki cargo pants paired with a plain blue sweater, and a baseball hat to top it off. “I’d rather not sport a bulletproof vest while I’m enjoying my day off.” He smirks. 

Although you’re happy to see him, you realise you don’t know what to say. You’ve never had a normal conversation with him, nothing which didn’t involve the case. It had always been business, or him telling you to back off.

“How was the breakfast at that cafe? They just opened right?” He asks so casually you almost fall for it, then your brows knit in confusion, “Been meaning to go there but you know, super busy the last month. Were the pancakes dry?”

“You were following me?” It was more of a statement than a question.

He takes the last bite of his hotdog, leaving you time to process it. “Just checking in.” 

“Why? Do I have something to be worried about?” 

He takes a deep breath, then looks at you. “Don’t worry, no one’s after you. You’re safe.” 

“Okay,” you nod, “then why are you following me?” 

“Come, take a walk with me.”

⎼

“This was by far the longest and toughest case I’ve ever worked on.” Seokjin goes on, “It was all worth it though.”

As you walk with him for the last ten minutes, he shares details of the case that he’s allowed to talk about for now. Mostly what went down on his side, stuff you never knew was going on while you were dealing with Jungkook and Suga and Hongjun and⎼

“I was never really on board with letting you guys in on the case. But Namjoon insisted.” He shrugs. “And I trusted him.”

“I hope we didn’t end up making things more difficult.” You voice out, and he smiles. “We did, didn’t we?”

“I”m not gonna lie, I almost wanted to bring you in for meddling. But I must say…” he looks at the ground as he walks, kicking stray pebbles along the way, “You’ve got guts. You should consider joining us.” 

You spit out a laugh. “Please, I've had enough action to last me a lifetime.” 

“I hope you’re not too traumatised. It’s terrifying to be held hostage like that,” he stops walking and so do you. “I can’t imagine what went through your mind when that was happening.”

“A lot…” you scoff, heart rate increasing from just the thought of it. “But it was less terrifying when I saw you guys.”

Jin looks at you for a moment, then looks away again, as if he has more to say, but he can’t. You don’t realise how far you’ve walked, now all the way to the back of the park, a more secluded area where the footpath meets a road, just before a dead end. 

“This is where we separate.” He says, holding out a hand for you to shake. 

You tilt your head in confusion but shake his hand anyway. He then nods to a black SUV parked by the side. You look at the car and back at him. The sliding door opens automatically.

“I can’t say this is exactly an ideal situation to be in after all I’ve been through.” You say, earning a hearty laughter from him. 

“Good to know you’re taking precaution.”

“Don’t worry,” A familiar voice comes from the other side of the car. The windows are tinted, so you can’t see who it is, until he shows himself by the door. Namjoon waves. “I promise I’ll be nice.” 

⎼

It almost felt unreal. Somehow you had pushed Namjoon far back into your mind, reminded yourself that he couldn’t help you, he had better things to do, and accepted it for what it is. Seeing him now, greeting you with such warmth, as compared to what happened at the station three weeks ago, has you taken aback. 

The ride starts off quiet, and it makes you all too aware of everything around you. The leather rubs against your skin, the headboard’s a little too high, the seat belt too tight and the sound of the blinker irritates you.

“You mad at me?” Namjoon breaks the silence first. There’s an air of serenity surrounding him now, much calmer, unlike how he was the last few months. 

“No. Are you mad at me?” 

Your question makes him chuckle. “Whatever for?” 

“For troubling you.” 

“Believe it or not,” there’s a smile on his lips as he speaks, eyes on the road, “you weren’t my biggest problem. Of course, I was occupied trying to take down a renowned crime boss but…I guess you were there somewhere in the back of my mind.” 

You hit him with the back of your hand and he winces. “I mean if you didn’t have to look out for me, it would’ve been a lot easier. I kept interfering.” 

“I won’t deny that.” He nods, “You’re stubborn. Hard-headed.”

“I get it.” The glare you send him still makes his skin crawl. 

“But, your heart’s in the right place.”

Leaning back, you smile out the window and watch as the world goes by. He hasn’t told you where you’re going, but you don’t mind. With how busy he gets, you might not get another chance to speak to him like this. 

And your thoughts wander off to Jungkook. Now that you know he’s alright, you wonder if Namjoon does. And if he doesn’t, bringing it up would only put Jungkook in a bad position. Though they were friends at some point, Namjoon was undercover and it is his job to put criminals away, and that includes Jungkook if he gets the chance. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask after a while.

“Hm? Tell you what?” 

You turn to him, “That you were undercover.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “You already knew too much. I’d just be putting you at risk.”

“Just say you don’t trust me and go.” You roll your eyes at him and your stare stays there for a while longer, questions running through your mind. “How did you do it?” 

A glimmer of delight shows on his face. It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you all about it, like a kid wanting to share their latest obsession with you. 

“When I first planned to infiltrate Kim’s organisation, I spent a lot of time studying Kim’s lower ranks,” Namjoon starts, “mainly those on the streets that run the show for him. They don’t know everything, but they weren’t my targets so that’s no issue. I just had to get them to trust me.”

“From there, I’d try to work my way up.” He laughs then, “But I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought. Word spread that there was a suspicious guy snooping around. I blew it basically.”

“What happened then?”

“Someone was sent to snuff me out. But…” Namjoon pauses, “one thing led to another and that person ended up being my informant.” 

“What?” You ask, flabbergasted. You wonder if this was the same person Mia was talking about, the one who betrayed Kim.

“I know, I was surprised too.” He laughs. “But people are complicated I guess. We met up a couple of times, I took a gamble and offered him to be my informant for a reduced sentence, and he took it up. Never told me why he did it though, he had a lot to lose considering how close he was to Kim and the higher ups.” 

“Where is he now? Is he okay?” 

“Haven’t seen him since the incident actually.” 

Someone close to the higher ups? You can’t imagine who else had been in on it. 

Namjoon laughs. “You know, when we planned for all this, I never expected there’d be an overprotective girlfriend to think about. Hoseok should’ve warned me.” 

The mention of Hoseok makes you wonder if he’d told him about your meeting today. “In all fairness, he didn’t know me well back then.” 

“Have you spoken to him recently?”

“Have you?” You flip the question back to him and he grins sheepishly. “You all but disappeared.”

“Sorry I was⎼”

“Busy, I know. Don’t worry.” You pat him on the shoulder. “We get it. We just…or I just felt like I was shoved to the side after it was all over, you know? I didn’t even know Hongjun was dead till Mia told me.” 

Namjoon admits his fault. “But remember, your knowledge of the case is a secret. So realistically, I couldn’t show that we were friendly. I didn’t want anyone dragging Hoseok into this either just because we’re friends. I kept my distance because of that.” 

That makes sense. Everyone’s eyes were on him as the lead detective, of course he’d take extra precaution. 

“Thankfully, no one suspected anything. No one we should worry about anyway, since the main targets are dead.” 

“Right.” You mutter, still trying to get used to the fact that Kim, Hongjun and his crew are all gone.

“I tried to eliminate any interest surrounding you. Afterall, you were a hostage victim, so it was fairly easy.” Namjoon said, “Then there was that first interview. I had a meeting prior, so I had to rush through it just to get to you on time. Although, I knew something like that might happen, which is why I sent Soo Ah to take your case.”

Your head snaps in his direction so quickly at the realisation. Soo Ah, your lawyer, had been Namjoon’s doing? It was odd when she showed up offering her services out of the blue, but you assumed it was only because of the high profile case.

“Hold on, that was you?” Your voice is laced with surprise. 

Namjoon’s dimple makes an appearance when he smiles again. “She’s a childhood friend, amazing lawyer. I called her in as a favour.” 

Even after everything, he tried his best to keep you safe. At the thought of it, your eyes start to brim with tears. “Namjoon…” 

He switches his attention between you and the road. “Aw come on, don’t start.” 

“I’m so touched.” You bring your sleeves to your eyes and wipe the wetness away. “Thank you. So much.” 

“It’s nothing.” He says mindlessly, though you disagree. 

As he turns the corner into a busy street, the car eventually slows down to a stop, heavy traffic ahead. It isn’t unexpected at this time of the day, when everyone’s leaving work. Now that he’s not occupied, Namjoon faces you. 

“I have one more surprise.” 

“What was the first one?” 

He takes offence at your question. “The first one was meeting me.” 

“Boo.” 

He presses his lips together and tilts his head sassily. His arm which was reaching for the compartment in front of you, backtracks. “I changed my mind. No presents.” 

“I’m just kidding,” you giggle, hooking your hand over his arm and he pulls away, only for you to pull him back. “Please? I love presents. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple⎼”

He scoffs, trying to keep a straight face. “Now I remember why I moved miles away from my sister.”

Despite his complaints, he pulls out a brown paper bag, handing it to you. Only for a moment do you hesitate before tearing the seal open. You look inside and let out a gasp. “My phone! You got it back!”

“I backtracked to where they held you during the kidnapping and bagged it.” He says, watching as you struggle to switch it on. He offers you a charging cable connected to the dashboard. “It was lying in a pile of trash they left behind.”

“Ew. But perfect.” A green swirl appears on screen as it starts to charge. “Namjoon, I can’t thank you enough! I thought I’d lost everything on here.” 

Once the phone comes to life, you brace yourself for the influx of notifications. It keeps you busy while Namjoon tries to find an alternate route. You swipe the notifications clear save for the tens of unread messages, mostly well wishes from friends. Then, it leaves you hovering over the homescreen, a picture of Jungkook and your hands intertwined. 

Glancing at the man next to you, he’s busy scrolling through the maps app on his device. Part of you wishes to tell him about Jungkook. Surely, he’d want to know if Jungkook’s alright. But you don’t take the risk. 

Sighing, you look out the window at the mass of cars outside. It’s much further than your area. He’s driven right into the busiest part of the city, where most office buildings are located, which explains the heavy traffic. Even more so at this time of day. 

As you let your head rest on the headboard, you stifle a yawn, feeling the events of the day taking a toll on you. 

“Long day?” He chuckles, similarly getting comfortable in his seat. “Why don’t you rest for a bit. This might take a while.”

“Where are we going again?” You ask sleepily, already leaning against the side.

“You’ll see.”

“Hm.” Your body melts into a slumber in less than five minutes with the aircon blowing in your face and the radio softly playing. Your mind drifts off to the night of the photo on your homescreen. The two of you had ditched the car, opting to walk that chilly night to a nice place downtown. 

Complaining that you were taking steps which were too small, Jungkook stretches his arm out to pull you along. As you go on your way, you snuck in a quick snap of your intertwined hands. The slight pause in your step when you do, has him complaining even more, and you shut him up with a kiss. It always works. His smile is the last thing you see before you’re awakened by the sound of an angry honk. 

“Whoops, sorry.” Namjoon glances at the rear view mirror, “That one’s on me. I cut him off.” 

You stretch your arms out in front of you and twist your back with what little space you have and sigh in content. Checking the time, you realise almost half an hour has passed. “That was a good nap.”

“Yeah? You were giggling in your sleep.” 

“Was I?” You remember the smile Jungkook flashed you in your dreams. 

“So listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.” His tone is a complete 180 from before. This is more like the Namjoon you’re used to. Though familiar, it scares you. “It’s about the case.”

“Okay.” 

When Namjoon goes quiet to focus on the road again, it’s then that you realise the car is passing by a familiar set of buildings. And you vividly remember this route. 

Up ahead, the Grandeur Loft comes into view. That’s right, this is why the route seems familiar to you. It’s where you had woken up that one morning after getting high, and also the address on that piece of paper you took from Jungkook. Your conversation with Mia about Suga comes to mind as well. You think you’re just passing by at first, until Namjoon drives towards the entrance.

“Wait, why are we here?” He doesn’t respond and you press him. “Namjoon, seriously, where are you taking me?”

“Calm down,” he finally says, “some things I can only talk about in the privacy of my apartment.” 

“Your apartment?”

He nods and drives through the loft security, nodding to the guard as they grant him access to the parking lot. Multiple scenarios go through your brain as you try to predict how this might go.

“You trust me right?” The engine goes off, leaving you to ponder in silence. He waits. You nod meekly. “Then come on.” 

The building has much tighter security than you remember. But then again, you were high the first time there. A pass is required just to activate the elevators, and inside, Namjoon presses the button to the 20th storey. A tiny screen at the bottom prompts for his fingerprint. Then a flashing green light signals its approval and the elevator starts moving. 

“I know you still have a lot of questions about that night. Most of which I couldn’t disclose to you back then. But now things have mostly settled, I have the answers to your questions.” He says, hands in his pockets. You look at his reflection on the doors in front of you. 

“That’s why I decided to come and see you today.” He continues. “I’m bringing you to meet someone.”

“Someone?”

A soft ding goes off as you reach the floor. It opens to a long hallway with only two apartments. He guides you to the one on the right. You walk in step with him. Namjoon extends his arm to stop you just before reaching the door. “You’ll want to talk to him. He’ll have the answers to your questions.”

“O-okay.”

“Whatever you learn in this room, stays in this room.” He says, “This is top secret information.”

You let out a heavy sigh, sickened by the thought of having to keep yet another secret and nauseated by the anticipation. 

He scans his biometrics against a scanner on the wall next to the door, and a green dot appears on the handle, the sound of the lock clicking. “You ready?” He asks. 

Your heart thumps in your chest. “Yeah.” 

You’re greeted by an empty apartment, similar to the one you woke up in that night. It’s clean and spacious, and feels untouched. Soft music plays in one of the rooms, though you don’t see any evidence of anyone living here. Is this how Namjoon lives?

You turn on your heel, to ask him, but he presses a finger to his lips. A second later, he’s calling out, “Kid! I’m back!” 

Somewhere round the back, you hear the music getting louder and footsteps making its way down the hall. A weird feeling washes over you.

“You don’t have to yell.”

Your heart does a somersault in your chest. You feel like you’re going to throw up and faint all at once. Your feet feel stuck to the ground, body frozen. The steps get closer and you hear it come to a halt, feeling the presence behind you. 

“I told you not to call me ki⎼” 

The voice fades away. Namjoon is smiling, encouraging you. You turn slowly, wondering if it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You’re probably just hearing things. 

But your eyes land on the man standing just metres away from you.

Jungkook

⎼

It’s like the air is sucked right out of you. Your voice goes missing and for a minute, all you can do is stand frozen to your spot, staring at him. His round shiny eyes stare right back at you, equally as surprised. 

You take one cautious step forward, as if he would disappear if you made any sudden moves. 

Then with a whisper of your name, a grin appears on his face and he’s running towards you. His strong arms sweep you off your feet, spinning you around, and your heart runs wild in your chest. When your feet land, his hands cup both sides of your cheek. “It’s you.” 

“It’s you.” You mirror him, planting your hands over his and wrapping around his fingers. Tears stream down your face, and his thumb catches them mid-way. “Jungkook. It’s really you.” 

“Y/N, I’ve missed you so much.” He’s quick to pull you into an embrace, and you bury your face into his shoulder. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You feel his tears seeping onto your clothed shoulder. When he finally lifts his head, you trace his face with your fingers. “I was so worried.” 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, dropping into your arms again. “I’m so sorry for everything.” 

His eyes roam to the side of your face and the bandage on your head, gently grazing the light bruise on your cheek. A sharp pain stabs at his chest when he sees your wounds, feeling guilty for all of it. You grab his hand and hug it against your chest, shaking your head, “I'm fine.”

Excitement has blood rushing through your veins, hands shaking and knees almost giving way and you let out a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. You clench your fist, digging your nails into your palm to snap you out of whatever dream you might be having. 

But it’s all real. And Jungkook remains, glossy eyes bore into yours, nose turning red. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, “You’ve been good?”

Jungkook grins, “Better now that you’re here.” 

Your heart is on the verge of combusting out of exhilaration. Without warning, he moves in, crashing his lips to yours and your hands tug at the fabric of his shit into a fist. Rough at first, but you slowly ease into it, and soon your lips move in sync with his. Jungkook controls his ache for more, and pulls away to let you catch your breath. 

Your forehead rests against his, and when he tilts his head to look at you in the teasing way he does, you bury your face in his chest. He chuckles and you feel him land a kiss on the top of your head. 

Jungkook holds you tight, not wanting to let go. But you feel his arms loosen slightly as his attention is striped away from you and his eyes float over to where Namjoon stands, long forgotten. 

“Surprise!” Namjoon raises his palms in the air. 

It makes you laugh and you wipe away the dampness from your eyes as you pull away. Jungkook walks past you, going to give Namjoon his deserved hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you both.” He shrugs. 

Jungkook squeezes him, and Namjoon takes it only for a couple of seconds before pushing him away. As you watch them go on, the stuff Namjoon said earlier slowly creeps its way back to the forefront of your mind. 

Noticing your silence, Jungkook turns back to you, offering you a worried smile when he sees you ruminating over it. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“How? Why?” You continue to stand there confused.

Jungkook’s eyes widen momentarily, then his features ease back into a smile. He brings your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palms. 

“It’s a long story.” 

⎼

An orange glow blankets the city skyline as the sun sets. The top to bottom windows give you a perfect view, like something out of a movie. From behind, you feel Jungkook’s hands snaking around your waist and his face appears next to yours. His sweet voice rings in your ear as he tears you away from the window. “Let’s eat.”

You were pleasantly surprised that they had room service here when Namjoon brought it up. “Is this a hotel or an apartment?”

“Doubles as both.” He mentions, “Usually staff from out of town that come here for work utilise the apartments. High security level apartments like this one are only by special request.”

And you thought it was fancy enough from the outside. 

Jungkook fills your plate for you; mashed potatoes, steak, some truffle fries, eggs. And he would’ve kept going had you not stopped him. He only smiles when your hand tugs on his elbow and sets the plate in front of you. 

“What about me?” Namjoon hands his plate out. 

“You have hands, do it yourself.” Jungkook spits out, shoving his plate away and filling up his own. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “Rude.”

“Shut up. She’s injured.” Jungkook says, pointing to the mark on your head. 

Namjoon’s mouth parts open and he pulls his sleeve over his shoulder to reveal a healing wound. “I got shot, dickhead. Twice!” 

“It’s different.” Jungkook stuffs his mouth with food and Namjoon scoffs. 

You’ve missed this more than you thought. “I guess some things never change.” 

“Yeah, he is as annoying as ever.” Jungkook says with his mouth full. 

While Namjoon mocks him in a silly voice, you stare at the side profile of your boyfriend. He’s lost a bit of weight, hair a little bit shorter like he just had a trim, and his eyes are a little sunken from lack of sleep. The traces of healed cuts and bruises remain on his arms and face. Naturally, your fingers brush against them and he turns at your touch, leaning his cheek into your open palm.

Staring into his eyes, you feel a sudden change in your body and flashes of that night appear before your eyes. The scene of him running towards you and the sound of the gunshot in your ear, causes you to flinch. Jungkook makes a grab for your hand and squeezes it in his. 

Your breathing slowly goes back to normal. Realising that tears are starting to form again, you force a smile to shake it off. “I guess I’m not fully recovered yet…”

“Of course not.” Jungkook pulls you closer to him, eyes reflecting the worry in yours. “Do you know how scared I was…I thought I told you to go home. What happened?”

“We did. Mia and I. But Taeho was waiting for us at the apartment and they threatened to hurt Hana.” You explain. “I had no choice.” 

“He escaped from the warehouse raid,” Namjoon adds, “I guess he went straight to Kim and got his boys to go get you.”

Jungkook sighs. “That psycho. He almost killed you.” 

“Well he’s dead now.” Namjoon points out. “Don’t let him stay in your mind rent free. You both are lucky to be alive.”

“He shot at you didn’t he?” You ask Jungkook. “I heard the gunshot but I blacked out…I thought it had to be either you or me.”

“Luckily he was too delirious to aim properly otherwise it could’ve been fata⎼” Namjoon’s words disappear back into his throat when Jungkook shoots him a vicious scowl. 

“It hit you?” Your eyes roam his body, visibly distressed. You were right. He did get hurt. “Where?”

Reluctantly, Jungkook lifts his shirt, revealing the wound on his lower right abdomen. You let out a heavy exhale, brows knitted in the way it does when you get stressed. He releases his shirt before you spiral. “I’m getting better.” 

“Wait but Hoseok and Hana said you weren’t at the hospital that night. They asked around for you but there was nothing in the records.” You say, “Everyone thinks you got away…”

“They were looking for me?”

“Of course, everyone’s worried.” 

The corners of Jungkook’s lips raise slightly at the thought of it. He hadn’t considered that anyone other than you was looking for him. 

“We have our own care facility, so we brought him there.” Namjoon states, raising his eyebrows when you tilt your head in confusion. 

“Oh.” The wheels in your mind start turning. “Why?” 

“Because he got shot.” Namjoon’s face matches yours in confusion at your question. 

“Why not the hospital like everyone else?” 

It doesn’t show, but Namjoon is amazed at your ability to sniff out the little details. Of course you’d wonder why he was brought elsewhere to be treated. You were never someone who would let things be. He should know this by now. 

“Is it because he’s in police custody now?” 

Namjoon’s eyes momentarily shift to Jungkook sitting across from him. “He is, technically. Just not in the way you’re thinking of.” 

“I’m still under supervision.” Jungkook adds.

“I don’t get it.” You sigh, setting your utensils down. There’s clearly something they’re not telling you. “Are you in trouble or not? And why are you keeping him here?” 

“Because I couldn’t have done it without Jungkook. He saved my life in that alley.” 

You nod your head slowly, “So because of that, they’re giving him leniency?”

Jungkook focuses on the table, sporting a tiny smile. Namjoon’s eager to elaborate once again, “Remember what I said in the car? About my informant?”

You blink. Perhaps your mind just refuses to believe it till you hear it. 

“Jungkook’s my informant.” 

.

.

.

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[brookie-kookie1943]

Hero of the Heart

Jack Traven x fem!Reader - Fluff

So, this is basically a self insert but I’ve changed and added a few things. I don’t know - I really liked this idea and I think it’s easier to start with considering my long hiatus of writing lol

(All these photos are from Pinterest)

Warnings: Use of y/n, incredibly cliche, cursing.

~~~~~~

Maybe it was when you woke up late, or maybe when you accidentally tripped going down the stairs. It could’ve been when you spilled your hot coffee all over your arm. However, as you sit here in this elevator, you realize this is the worst thing to happen all day.

It had stopped moving about thirty minutes ago - or maybe an hour - there’s a lot of maybes in this situation. All you know is that bad luck had struck again and now you’re in an elevator stuck between the twenty-second and twenty-third floor. And at your job, no less. Doesn’t the universe know you’re too busy right now for this shit?

Of course, you freaked out at first - who would want to be stuck, alone, in a box made of hundreds of pounds of steel? You pressed the emergency button until you finally got a response, letting those firefighters know what kind of predicament you were in. At least you were going to be saved by sexy firemen!

The shock and fear wore off a little and now you were sitting up against the wall. Waiting for movement, for people - anything. What you couldn’t hear was the sound of ticking above your head. That sound was one Jack Traven knew very well.

Unbeknownst to you - yours wasn’t the only elevator to have mysteriously stopped. There was another elevator stuck between the thirtieth and thirty-first floor. The difference was: no bomb went off above yours, but it sure was ticking.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, you heard a drilling noise above you. It made you panic - what the hell is that? Hopefully it was someone coming to save you from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the LAPD!” You heard a man’s voice above the elevator. You felt a sigh of relief leave you, looking up at the ceiling despite knowing you won’t see the man who called out to you.

“It’s just a lady!” You responded, a lighthearted way to let the officers know it was just you. You were cursed by not being able to see the handsome smile spread across Jack’s face at your answer - despite the situation.

“Well ma’am, I promise I’ll have you out of there as soon as possible.” He tells you, and you feel curiosity fill you. What even put you in this situation in the first place?

“What happened to the elevator?” You ask, not wanting to admit that you sort of feared the answer. Jack knew he couldn’t tell you that there was a bomb strapped to the cables of the elevator you were on - and it could blow up when the timer went off if not deactivated.

“There was a malfunction, nothing serious. Just relax, ma’am.” He told you. You couldn’t help but believe him. After all, he sounded so calm and cool, and he brought that effect on to you. It took a few minutes for it to dawn on you that you were talking to a police officer.

Anxiety filled your chest once again at this thought. Why did they send officers? You called firefighters - you expected firefighters. You expected maybe even repair guys. If only you knew that Jack wasn’t just an officer. He was apart of the bomb squad. On the SWAT team. You would freak.

You can’t help but curl up where you sit on the floor. Somehow tears aren’t falling from your eyes - which would totally ruin your mascara. You’re scared, yes, but you can’t seem to express it. Little do you know that Jack is scared too. And he can’t express it either.

He’s got this gut feeling that this lunatic who put bombs on these elevators isn’t using hostages for easy bribing money. No - these hostages aren’t potential collateral. The maniac is going to blow them up anyway, whether he gets the money or not.

Despite the protests from his partner Harry, preferring they follow Captain McMahon’s orders and wait, the cog wheels are already turning in Jack’s head. The lunatic can bomb the elevators all he wants - they just have to take you out of the equation.

All the while, you are contemplating just the same as Jack. Your thoughts are much more melancholic, though. Maybe you should have thanked your mother more for those ugly shoes, or talked to your father about something that wasn’t money related. So many maybes and not one is about you potentially surviving this situation. You have got to calm down.

It is less than calm on the outside of this elevator, though. More officers are trying to remove hostages on the other elevator before their time runs out - which they have a lot less time then you do. At this point, you’re the only one that hasn’t been let in on the sick joke of possible death.

Jack won’t let that happen, though. He’s hooked up a long cable to the elevator from a crane on the roof which should hold you up if it start to fall. Then, there’s a sudden explosion to test that theory.

You let out a scream as a large explosion happens over your head, and you begin to fall farther and farther down. You cling to the handlebar on the wall before everything stabilizes once again. Well - the theory was somewhat successful and now you’re in on the sick joke.

“What the hell is happening!” You scream to anyone that may possibly hear you. Jack is quick to respond despite his panting and the sound of his heart beating in his chest. “It’s alright, ma’am, everything’s alright!”

“Is there a bomb on this elevator?!” You say in a panic, a little annoyed by his forced reassurance. Everything is definitely not ok. “…yes, there is. I’m sorry, ma’am.” He reluctantly informs you. You don’t think you’ve dreaded an answer more in your life.

You wish you would’ve had a bit more time to process that answer but the elevator jerks downwards more and more. Maybe that theory wasn’t so successful after all. You breathe frantically, trying to stay as still as possible as if it will help stop the moving.

Jack and Harry are already running from the elevator shaft to the small lobby to catch you before you fall between another floor. In spite of your weak attempts to stop the movements, you only seem to be jerking more violently. It’s so bad you can barely stand straight - this was a horrible day to wear heels.

By some blessing of God, you watch as the elevator doors are pried open. Not much time for celebrating when you’re still in this damn thing. You’re finally face to face with what you assume is the cop you’ve been talking to - and his familiar calm and cool voice only proves it.

“Come on! Take my hand!” Jack yells to you; his voice isn’t so calm and cool now. You don’t hesitate, wobbling your way over to him as quickly as humanly possible. You scream as the elevator shifts downwards for the umpteenth time - now only leaving a small gap between the exit and the metal wall blocking your path.

This it it. If it slides down any further, there won’t be an escape for you. Jack knows it and so do you. He reaches his hand further out to you, wrapping his large hand around your wrist to pull you closer. You quickly wrap your arms around his broad shoulders as he lifts you out of the moving elevator.

Your left heel slips off your foot just as you’re being pulled out by Jack, but you’re smart enough to not care. It’s like your Cinderella or something - though you don’t think someone will ever recover that shoe; the elevator as already started plummeting to the bottom.

Throughout the chaos, Jack pulling you out sends the both of you falling on the ground. You’re still quivering in fear in his arms as he tries to relax you and himself. “You’re alright. You’re safe. You’ve got to evacuate.”

You nod and slip your other heel off when you stand back up. You hold the shoe in your hand as you make sure to put some distance between you and this damn building. Ambulances are around - helping and caring for the other hostages that were in your situation not even ten minutes ago.

You think it’s been about an hour before anything major happens. You’ve been sitting the back of an ambulance; tears dried and a blanket around your arms. Thankfully no one, including you, was injured during the rescue. That is, until you see someone being wheeled out of the building in a stretcher.

It sort of looks like that blonde haired cop that helped save you earlier. He’s awake…but there’s something wrong with his leg. Then, you see his partner following closely behind - the same one you practically climbed on. You want to say thank you, so you wait until he’s done checking on his partner.

“Hey, um, I just want to say thank you for saving my life. I could never repay you.” You say sincerely, and you could swear you saw a small blush fill Jack’s face as he responds humbly. “It’s my job, ma’am. No need to thank me.”

You smile before looking over at his partner, visibly cringing when you see the bullet wound in his leg. “Is he going to be alright? What happened to him?”

“Oh, Harry will be fine. I shot him.” Jack informs you with a sweet smile - as if he didn’t process what he just told you. When he sees your confused expression, he sighs a bit embarrassingly. “It’s a long story.”

You give a slow nod. You’re not going to question it any further. Jack looks down at your feet, seeing that you’re wearing the flimsy hospital shoes the ambulance had to offer. “It seems like you found some new kicks, huh?” He jokes lightheartedly, causing you to laugh quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get that other heel back, will I?” You ask, though you already know the answer. It’s highly unlikely. Jack shakes his head. Something about him tells you he would’ve got it for you if he truly could.

Finally, you get to look at him. Really look at him. You were so rightfully distracted by the thought of death that you didn’t notice how handsome he was. For a moment, you’re glad those sexy firefighters didn’t come and save you. Nothing beats a sexy cop like this man.

“Well, the hostage you saved is Y/N, by the way.” You quip while holding your much smaller hand out to him. He takes your hand - careful not to squeeze - and shakes it with a laugh. “The cop that saved you is Jack Traven if you want to give me a good review.”

“I’ll think about it.” You tease, watching as he leaves you to rest from the traumatic experience you just went through. You’re practically breaking your neck to watch him walk out of your line of sight. What a man. What you wouldn’t give to have a slice of that in your life.

You hope to see him again. After all, you do take the bus to work…

[thewinter-eden]

All Ye Who Enter Here

images are mine (except middle LF pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 6 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: ghost!Felix is said to haunt the abandoned mansion at the end of Blacktree Road. Legend says all who go into the mansion are never seen again. When you decide you’re sick of your friends being afraid of a literal house, you rise to the challenge and go inside. Spoiler alert, Felix is real, and he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to walk into a haunted house.

warnings: Hauntings, killings, more horror than crack, can’t be too predictable, decided to shake it up, this one's different, definitive 2-parter, this is really more the intro than the actual crack!horror sorry it turned out this way I just had a sucky week and never ended up having time to write. This one sucks I'm sorry.

Word Count: 2.3k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

PART 2

The heavy antique doorknocker makes you think of Beauty and the Beast.

Honestly the entire Blacktree house kind of reminds you of that old gothic castle.

“Don’t come in.”

The whisper that reaches your ears feels like a breath on the breeze, a trick of your imagination. You push the creaking door open and step into the house, ignoring the adrenalized chattering of your friends behind you.

No one just walks into Blacktree House anymore, not without a healthy amount of fear. Or at least not without some apprehension. The house is haunted. That’s what everyone says. It’s allegedly been haunted since the 90s. Strange noises, lights flickering in the windows, a dark aura surrounding the property.

You don’t believe it.

Or maybe you don’t care about it.

They say people have gone inside and come out cursed. That foolhardy students went in on a dare, or lured others in as a prank, only to disappear like a scream on the wind over the days that followed. That unsuspecting lovers have taken advantage of an empty house only to face their doom soon after. That realtors and agents refuse to work with the house, too frightened or superstitious or terrorized by the ghosts within to ever step foot inside.

So many of them found dead in their homes in the days and weeks that followed.

So many of them supposed victims of the haunted house.

It’s absurd.

You believe in rumors, tall tales, and dumb teenagers.

You believe in what you’ve seen, what you’ve touched, what you know.

You don’t believe in ghosts.

So while your astonished friends watch you walk yourself inside, gait jaunty to prove a point, you tell yourself that the words you heard were just in your head. You have a mission. The bet was that you wouldn’t go into the house by yourself, tour the entire place, take pictures from each window, and then return with or without a curse. The incentive? A hundred dollars.

As far as bets go, to you, it’s an easy hundred dollars.

Your friends are far more terrified by the prospect of you roaming the giant scary house than you are, and you’re relieved to spend a few curious minutes by yourself and come out of it with a hundred dollars.

You cross the threshold and turn to catch their eyes from where the stand out on the street, clinging to each other and gawking. It does occur to you that, as ridiculous as the entire premise of the bet is, it’s not especially endearing that your friends (who seem to fully believe in the murderous ghost curse) have convinced you to take a stroll through the murder house.

The wind catches the door as you go to close it and sucks it shut with a solid thud.

The house is old, filled with dust and a scattering of footprints, completely run down. The previous owner’s belongings still clutter the floors and the shelves in various stages of disrepair. You pull your phone from your pocket and snap a few pictures of the entryway, headed down the first hallway you see.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

This time, the disembodied whisper reaches your ears with clarity. There’s a moment of shock as you spin on your heel, scanning the room sharply.

There’s no one there.

Of course there’s no one there.

No one comes into this house anymore. It’s just you.

You shake it off, classify it as another example of a suggestible imagination run rampant, and continue your tour. A picture here, a photo there, you’re somewhere near the center of the house when you hear footsteps behind you.

“This wasn’t part of the deal.” You call over your shoulder, spotting a window looking out towards the front yard. “Pretending to be a ghost to freak me out isn’t going to get you your hundred dollars back.”

“Leave now. Last warning.”

Heart leaping into your throat, you spin so fast you nearly trip over a stack of books in the floor, but there’s no one behind you.

Your friends are doing their best to get you to run screaming from the house, abandoning the terms of the bet and forfeiting the reward, so you plant yourself and catch your breath. There’s no way you’re quitting the haunted house tour. There’s no way you’re going to allow yourself to be scared by their efforts when you already know there are no ghosts in the house or anywhere else.

You’re fine.

Taking a bracing breath, you step up to the window and poise your phone to take a photo. Both of your friends are still on the sidewalk, still clutching each other, staring at the house with visible trepidation.

Your finger snaps the photo distractedly.

Because you’re staring at both of the friends who brought you here, and you’re hearing creaking footsteps behind you.

There’s no one in the room but you, so you move on to the next one, pretending that you don’t feel the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. The next room also has a window facing the front yard, so you snap another photo. A first floor perspective of the girls checking their phones to see your texted photos marking your progress.

“You should have listened.” The echoing whisper tickles your ear as you move on.

Right in front of your face, prompted by absolutely nothing, the wide-open door to the bedroom you’re standing in slams shut, locking you inside.

Now you’re worried.

It’s not like there couldn’t have been a string tied to the door knob—fishing line or dental floss or something that you couldn’t see—that someone could have yanked to give the illusion of a door slamming itself, but you’re the only person in the house.

The door won’t open. No matter how hard you try to turn the knob or yank at the ancient wood, it remains firmly closed. Your heart is pounding in your ears, uncertainty filling your thoughts.

There are no ghosts.

There are no ghosts.

This house is not haunted.

So why can’t you open the door that just inexplicably closed itself?

“It won’t open.” This time it’s not a whisper, it’s a strong, deep, full-bodied voice.

You jump, tripping over your own feet as you turn at the words, and your eyes fall on a man standing in the corner. He’s narrow, slender, pale as death, with long blonde hair and pitiful dark eyes.

He seems familiar, his face bouncing around your head with some confused recognition, but you’re far too confused to figure it out. “How did you get in here?” He wasn’t there a minute ago, not when you were standing right where he’s standing. “Who are you?”

His chin lowers ever so slightly, and the light in the room shifts, and you see him flutter in and out of view. The way his entire body flickers transparently for a moment before settling back into normal human opacity makes your brain trip over itself and fall flat on its face.

The door rattles behind you.

Noises rise on the other side, sounding like scraping books and clunking footsteps, nails scratched along the walls. You’re watching the rotted wood of the bedroom door tremble, the door knob rattling against the bolt, and you can’t breathe.

“What is happening right now?”

“They’re coming.” The man behind you says. “You should have left when I told you to.”

You meet his eyes and wish you knew why the sharp point of his jaw looks so familiar to you. “You were the one whispering to me? Back in the hall?” It feels like a dumb question until you watch him flicker again, only to reappear a second later, this time closer to you. Now that you can see him better, you know where you’ve seen him. “Wait, you’re that guy. I remember you now.”

That guy had been in the news a few years ago, a picture of exactly the same face you’re looking at now—24-year-old found dead just days after visiting Blacktree House.

The guy who’s name you can’t remember frowns at you, his eyebrows lowering in disappointment.

Outside the door, the noises grow louder.

You think you can hear voices, but you’re not sure.

“My name is Felix.” He says, and then grimaces. “Was Felix.” His eyes skate over your shoulder towards the door. “They’re coming to kill you.” He turns away and peers out the window, but doesn’t put himself in your friends’ line of sight. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“It’s just a house.” You mutter. “All those people—it’s not like they were murdered by ghosts.” There’s clear derision and skepticism in your voice, as though you’re not staring at a young man who keeps fluttering through stages of transparency. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t keep them out forever. They’re coming to kill you.” He says again, like it’s the only thing he can say.

“But you’re not going to kill me?” You mutter, wondering if you can take a picture of him. Or maybe a video. You’re holding your phone, but you can’t decide if you should be calling someone right now, or even documenting what’s happening.

Felix seems to curl in on himself, his expression darkening as he rubs his hands over his arms. You notice the chill in the room, the goosebumps on his skin, but you don’t care. “I don’t want to kill anyone.” He murmurs hollowly. He turns to you, and there’s so much sorrow on his face that your heart clenches. “Why me?” He whispers. “Why did I have to die?”

Tears prick at your eyes, the mourning in his expression needling into your soul. “Why did you come to this house?” You ask. “Back then, when you knew the reputation, why would you come here?”

He shrugs limply, and for a second you both just listen to the pounding and clattering on the other side of the door. You wonder if your friends can hear it from outside. You wonder if you’re going to die tonight. “It was a bet.” He says weakly.

Like you.

Just a stupid bet.

“Who are they?” You ask, gesturing to the door. You can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The others.” Felix says softly. “All the others who have died because of this house. Why us?” He weeps. “Why did we have to die?”

“It’s just a house,” You whisper back, flinching at a particularly loud bang behind the door. “Nobody’s been killed by ghosts.”

His head tilts. “That’s not true. You know this house.”

You do know this house. It was your mother’s, a long, long time ago. So long ago that you don’t actually remember living in it.

“You know there’s been a death here.”

Your eyes narrow with confusion. “My mom wasn’t killed by ghosts.” You scan the walls again. “She had a heart attack.”

Felix rolls his eyes at you, the first hint of attitude that you’ve seen from him so far. “You’ll be the second. Like mother like daughter.” His hands hang limply at his sides. “As soon as they break through that door it’s over.”

You glance back towards the hallway, now hearing dozens of hands pounding at the wood, desperate to splinter the frame to get to you. “All the others who have died because of this house.” You repeat.

“All of them,” He says. “From the very beginning. Trapped here.”

“So they’re going to kill me.”

Felix smiles a little and it’s not totally happy, not totally sad. “Like mother like daughter.”

You face him fully. “So why block me in here? Why keep me from them?” He’s got you cornered in a small bedroom, out of reach of the malevolent spirits who want revenge for their own deaths, and he’s not trying to kill you. He died because of this house too, but he’s standing perfectly still.

“I wanted to ask.” He says. “I just wanted to know.” His dark eyes flood with tears all over again. “Why me?”

You don’t have an answer. Were you propagating the rumors of the house being haunted? Were you just following in your mother’s footsteps? Was there anything more to it than the itch to express yourself in a way that only you understand?

Sighing deeply, you find yourself shaking your head. “I don’t know, Felix. All I know is that you never should have come here.”

He grimaces, tears spilling over. “It was just a bet. Just a stupid bet.”

That’s what you thought too.

“I know,” You say. “Most of them were stupid bets.”

“Why would you do this?” He cries. “What did we ever do to you? What did they ever do to her? We didn’t deserve to die.”

All you can do is shrug. “It’s like you said. Like mother like daughter.” You couldn’t go into the psychology of it, the genetics versus environment of criminal deviance, the reasons for an irrational display of hubris—you have no answers for that. You don’t have any more answers for why than you have for how your victims—yours and your mother’s—had become trapped into the ancient house forever.

“We didn’t deserve to die.”

You know.

“Why would you come here? Why would you come back to this house? Just to taunt us?”

You smile. “I didn’t believe in you. To me—it’s just a house.” It’s the house where your mother got caught in the 90s for killing dozens of people. It’s the house that was in the background of her photo in the newspaper that labeled her as a psychotic serial killer. It’s the house that the social workers collected you from before they changed your name and wiped your legal connection to your criminal mother.

It’s the house where your mother’s body was found just days after the whistleblower leaked the photos of her trophies, where medical examiners decided she had succumbed to a heart attack.

It’s just a house.

The door creaks and groans, a long crack splitting down the middle as the victims of your wretchedly externalized rage make progress in their efforts to get to you—to get revenge.

“Well,” Felix wipes his eyes and steps toward the door, and you can see how heartbroken he is. But not for you. For you, he is a young man betrayed. A human being betrayed by the wickedness of your unmitigated cruelty. “Now it is your prison.”

And then he opens the door.

This one sucks I'm sorry. Thanks for reading!

PART 2

tag list : @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @eastjonowhere @its-stayville-forever @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @jinniejjam @blackberryrains @feetoffthemalfoy @highandalive @scarlet789 @ramadiiiisme @thecutiepieme @lemonn015 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @dreamingartist13

[marleyybluu]

Differences

husband!Rio x f!black!OC ( Toni - no relation to Miss Braxton.)

Word count: 3.2k

Content warning: 18+, smut out the ass, riding, fingering, p in v, creampie, use of the word cock sorry oops, baby-making boogie, doubts about marriage, doubts about kids, fluff, Rio being in love, lot of switching between his names, allusion to food play if you squint hard enough (?). lmk if I missed any.

A/N: this was orginally for... someone else iykyk mind your business, but I switched last minute. Also I gave Rio a middle name lol

(Not my gif, found off Pinterest. but FUCK ME he looks good)

They'd been married for four years. They enjoyed their marital life, going on various trips, spending their money all willy-nilly since it was just the two of them, having parties at their house every holiday but something was missing. At least for Toni. She always wanted to be a mother, children invaded her heart and soul her whole life. Her sisters had children that she loved to babysit, she was even in the delivery room a few times. She'd become a teacher for the sole purpose of spending her days with young ones, making a difference in their lives and loving them wholeheartedly as much as she could.

But it seemed like Rio wasn't in the same boat. Which was stupid because they made sure to have this discussion before they got married and he was on board one hundred percent, Toni wanted to make her husband a father, she wanted to see him cradle a little blanket in his arms, she wanted to see him snuggling next to the chubbiest cheeks and she wanted to see his face light up at their first word but, again, he seemed to not want it for himself.

It was frustrating.

She'd let the four years pass, it was a good time window, they had time to get their lives together and buy a house, fully furnish it, settle into a decent neighbourhood and buy an SUV to fit the little family they dreamed of.

Toni even made sure to let him know when she was ovulating, the perfect opportunity to try and make a child, but he'd shrivel up and disappear when she brought it up. Then she'd spend her nights quietly doubting his interest in kids, his interest in her.

They hadn't spoken in four days, the aftermath of their first real argument, the vibes in the house were heavy and sometimes a bit awkward. She even started staying late at work to avoid him even longer.

They weren't all that selfish, they still said good morning and good night but that was about it. Little to her knowledge it was killing Rio. He hated the silent treatment from her, she was his girl they talked all the time, this had been the best relationship he'd ever been in, he didn't want to fuck it up but it felt like he already did.

He tried sneaking his way back into her heart by leaving little love notes, cooking her favourite meals and turning on her favourite shows in hopes she'd join him on the couch but all he got was the cold shoulder and he understood. He fucked up big time.

"I'm ovulating." She stated plainly. Rio just blinked and shrugged. She groaned. "Christopher, I can't do this anymore, I'm dropping hints that I want to start trying and you... you ignore me."

"I'm not ready."

"When will you be? Because I am."

He chuckled nervously. "Come on, Toni, we cannot be parents. We'll fuck it up."

The look on her face sent his heart into the pit of his stomach, her eyes glossy with tears coming in, and a harsh; "Fuck you, Christopher!"  To follow suit. It stung hearing those words, if she ever said them it was more so in a playful manner but this time she had rage, anger behind her words and rightfully so. But tonight he was determined to make amends, he could not keep living like this.

It was Friday, and Toni decided she'd come home a little earlier. Rio sat up quickly at the sound of her car door slamming and the keys on her keychain jingling as she sifted for the house key. The door opened and he tried his best to keep his cool. "Hi, darlin." He greeted.

"Hey." She said in the most monotone voice he'd ever heard. "Hungry?" He asked. "Nah, I'm cool."

Toni slipped off her shoes and crept up the stairs to their room, she placed her purse on a chair nearby and sighed, just ready to shower and lay down for the rest of the weekend. She walked past their bathroom intending to head to her Vanity but a red spot on the floor caught her eye, and then another... and another. But they weren't spots, they were rose petals, a trail of them leading up to the tub that was already filled with water, the smell of her lavender bath bomb invading her senses. On the counter were a few lit candles and her little speaker so she could play music.

She swallowed her smile and headed back to the room to collect her clothes for the night. Meanwhile, Rio was finishing the final touches on his persuasive dinner downstairs. He made Macaroni just the way she taught him, some rice and chicken, even topped it off with a red velvet cake... okay so he bought the cake but it was the thought that counted right?

He set up the table for both of them to eat together, he set up the forks and knives on the table with a small vase of her favourite flower, pink Dahlia's. His palms were suddenly sweaty, tonight was make or break. If he didn't fix things tonight he had no idea where they would stand after.

Almost an hour later, Toni decided she'd close the distance between them only because she was hungry. Her feet pressed against the carpeted stairs as she descended onto the main floor, the living room was empty, Rio left whatever he was watching on pause. Her head whipped over to the kitchen smelling a lovely fragrance, she followed the trail and stopped in her tracks at the opening to the kitchen. She watched as Rio scrambled to plate their food, she tilted her head and smiled lightly, her eyes slowly forming into hearts. Oh, how she loved him.

"Do you want help?" She asked making her presence known, Rio shook his head. "Just sit and be pretty." She giggled. "I have no problem doing that."

She sat around the table, her eyes landing on the Dahlia's, her smile widened. "You got these for me?"

"Of course," He replied walking with two plates in his hand like a waiter, he put hers down first and then his. "Any drink requests?" He asked. She motioned her finger in a 'come here' motion, his eyebrows knitting with confusion but following her non-verbal instruction, she cupped his face pulling him even closer until their lips, moulding into one. She'd been wanting to kiss him for days, she didn't know if she could ever hold a grudge this long again.

The kiss was quick, just a little show of appreciation. She could see a light shade of pink take over his cheekbones. "Do we have any wine?"

"Went and got two new bottles." He says matter of factly. Toni pecked his lips again before sending him off for her drink. He grabbed two wine glasses and the bottle. "You're going to drink wine?" She asked in utter confusion. He couldn't stand wine, his famous line was 'I don't know how you drink this shit.'

He shrugged sitting down. "I can drink wine."

"Christopher... baby you hate wine."

"I can learn to like it."

She knew he was doing everything to soften her up, but the look on his face when he took a first sip was priceless. "Go and get a beer, leave me and my wine alone." He chuckled and quickly grabbed a bottle from the fridge.

The two sat and actually conversed for the first time in four days. It was nice. They talked without missing a beat, he was making her smile and laugh, she told him about the kids at work and the twinkle in her eye at the smallest mention of them was beautiful. She truly loved her students, they made her day every day with the silly stuff they'd say to her. He was in love with how motherly she could be toward everyone, how forgiving she was of anyone and especially of him. He didn't deserve her and he'd made it known numerous times and in the same amount she'd reassured him that he was just for her.

In the middle of her ramble, she noticed the way he was staring at her and suddenly she became shy. "What?" She asked. "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, Christopher."

He shook his head vigorously. "No, I love you more than you could ever imagine, Toni. And I am so so sorry for what I said."

She sighed. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. You will be an amazing mom to our kids and I couldn't picture anyone else having them, shit I couldn't even picture having a family until you came, it wasn't in the cards for me." He confessed. "My whole life has changed and I'm forever grateful for it. I want it to keep changing."

She tugged on her bottom lip, trying her best to swallow her tears. "When I saw how my words affected you, baby, my heart broke. I never want to be the reason you're sad. Never. I've missed you these few days. I need you back. I'm sorry."

Toni was speechless, her lips parted to say something but how do you respond to the sweetest apology ever?

Her eyes darted between his pretty brown ones, she stood up and walked over to him, swinging her leg over his she planted herself comfortably on his lap. His hands instantly rested on her hips. She didn't say anything, just leaned down and kissed him and he could swear that on her lips he could taste his past, his present and his future and she was there for every step, for every second. He wouldn't dare say such foolishness to her again.

Toni could feel a little poke through his sweats, she quietly moaned into his mouth, his hands exploring her warm chestnut skin under her shirt, his fingers trickling down her back. His lips moved to her chin and down to her neck to the spot he knew oh so well, his facial hair tickling her skin only adding to the sensation and a ray of goosebumps formed on her skin. "Christopher...mmm." Was all she could mutter, her hips involuntarily moving back and forth desperately searching for friction to soothe the aching of her clit. He got the message though, firmly splaying his hands under her ample ass, he stood up and she wrapped her legs around him.

He was halfway out of the kitchen when he realized; "Wait, I got you a red velvet cake."

Toni laughed, and she kissed his forehead, god he was so cute. "Boy, forget the cake. Take me upstairs and you can eat a different cake."

Rio raised his eyebrows, didn't have to tell him twice. "That's why I married yo ass girl."

She gladly hung off of him while he carried her up the stairs and once they made it to the room he dropped her on the bed, her sweet laughter filled the room. He settled between her legs, peppering her with kisses and affection. "I can't wait to see you, walking around here with a little belly, carrying around our love." He twitched at the thought and she noticed. A small surprised look on her face. "Is the thought of me pregnant... turning you on?"

"No." He quickly denied it. "Christopher Javier Martínez, yes it does." She teased reaching in between them to cup his hardening erection. "Mm, so you want to fill me up? Hm?" Her voice was so smooth and silky yet seductive, her lips pressing against his only for a moment. "You want to see me carrying your baby around? How swollen and plump my breasts are gonna get? Practically spilling over my tops."

"Toni." He groaned. She giggled but her taunting was cut short when he reached into her (well, his) boxers, his fingers teasing her slit, her wetness coating him. Her back arched as he quickly dipped his fingers inside her heat and back out. "Stop playin' with me." She moaned. "Why?"

Her shirt slid up her torso and past her breasts exposing her erect nipples, his mouth quickly latching onto one, his tongue swirling around her pretty brown areolas, so delicious. His free hand massaged her other one, his thumb and index fingers playing with her nipple. Her back arched and her legs squirm under him.

"Christopher, baby, please." She whined. He chuckled and something about was kind of sinister like his intent was to tease her all night until she begged for what she wanted. He popped her nipple out of his mouth, planting a kiss on it before moving on to the next, his hips grinding into hers pressing his clothed cock on her needy clit. "Yes... oh, I need more, please." She gasped.

He kissed between the valley of her breasts, down her torso and finally reaching his destination above the band of her underwear, he tugs them off in almost a hungry manner, his mouth attaching to her pussy like a magnet. His tongue going to work on her clit, his thumb caressing the rest of her slit. Toni's entire body shivered, her legs slowly closing around his head, he used his free hand to smack her inner thigh, she squealed and spread them out, holding the under of her thighs for support.

Her eyes glided to the back of her head, she squirmed, her back arching just a little bit. "Oh... y-yeah." Her toes cracked while pleasure coursed through her veins. Rio hummed against her sensitive nub, his own hips losing themselves as he hunched against the mattress with neediness. Her thighs trembled as they partially rested on his shoulders. She moaned and whined, whimpered and croaked as he devoured her existence.

"fuck, baby, I'm so close." She warned with her jaw slacked as the hairs on her arm stood, her body stiffened, her nails scratched at his scalp with appreciation and love as he carried her through the tantalizing loops of her orgasm.

She was dripping down his beard and he smiled against her thigh, his teeth gently biting on the flesh. "Oh!... Mr. Martinez." She giggled. He kissed his way back up her body, his lips landing on her chin. "I'm so glad I married you." She hummed running her nails over his skin. "Hm, I love you, ma." He cooed pressing a kiss to her nose. Rio slid off his sweats and boxers, dick sliding between her soaking folds. Her hand reached between them wrapping her fingers around his well-sized shaft.

Their lips connect as she guides him inside her soft walls. She gasped and softly moaned as he eased his way in until she was stuffed. Toni wrapped her legs around his waist. "You good?" Just checking. She nodded, too full to speak. His lips occupied her neck, her mind in the clouds as he fucked her stupid. Mutters and mumbles of "fuck me! Yes!" Or "right there!" As he skillfully worked his hips. He held her close, his face buried in the curve of her neck. His thrusts were hard and slow, he was making her feel every inch, every bit of stretch he provided.

Her high creeping its way into her bones, her moans became louder as he consistently tapped against her g-spot. There was no way he was about to make her nut again in such a short amount of time. He could feel her juicy walls contracting around him, hugging him so tight. "You're so wet for me, huh, my pretty baby?" 

Toni's jaw slacked while he talked to her, nibbling on her ear. "So fucking wet, can feel it dripping down my balls, fuck." 

She whined. "I can't- shit! shit! ooooh!" 

He chuckles as he pulls out, regrettably at that. Toni cried out, her climax so close yet so far. Rio fell onto the bed, slapping her thigh he said, "Get on top." 

She sucked her teeth, in no mood to be on top, still irritated from being denied her needs. Rio pinched her and she yelped. "Ow! You dick!" She laughed slapping his arm. "Hurry up and get on this dick." He urged pulling her arm to help her over. She swung her leg across his body, perching herself on his lap like earlier. His dick resting perfectly against one of her cheeks. She looked down at him and he was so fucking pretty. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, her eyes landing on that notorious Eagle tattoo on his throat then down over the rest that he had scattered on his body, she moaned at that alone. 

She leaned forward, raising her hips and skillfully lining him up with her entrance, no hands needed. She watched as his rosy lips parted slightly and a small crease in between his eyebrows formed when they came together. "Fuuuuck." He dragged out feeling his dick be re-enveloped in her velvety walls. Toni moved her hips back and forth with one goal in mind, to get herself off. She used her knees as leverage to lift her hips up and back down, her ass jiggling when colliding with his thighs. With her lip between her teeth, her head tossed back she got to work on him. 

Rio's hands gladly squeezed at her sides, her moans filling the room once again. "You're so fucking pretty on top of me, mama." He encouraged, but he truly meant it, she looked like a fucking angel. "Oh god, oh god... fuck yes, Rio!" He felt himself twitch, his wife rarely called him by his street name, she only did it when she wanted to tease him, loved to do it when they were around others. 

He groaned spanking her. She smiled, a hazy look in her eyes. "What's my name, mama?" 

Toni cried out, her head falling forward as she bounced out her orgasm. "Fu-fuuuck, Rio!" 

"Squeezing this dick so fuckin' tight, come on..." He sat up hooking his arm around her waist, his tongue darting out to the underside of her breast, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. Toni sang out his name, her back arched and her eyes rolled. He grabbed her hips and guided her up and down, her body going limp. "Shit! Oh... Toni, I'm comin' baby." He growled through gritted teeth, he pressed his forehead against her sternum and she softly smiled feeling his warm seed spread inside her. "Fuck... that feels so good." She giggled, she was cock drunk. He kissed her glistening skin. 

They stayed like that for a moment, she kissed the top of his head, her hands on his shoulders as she slowly pushed him onto his back again, she climbed off of him and sighed in satisfaction. "You want something to drink?" He asked, she shook her head. "Nah, you gotta hydrate ma. I'm making sure I put a baby in you tonight." He laughed lightly smacking her thigh. Her cheeks warmed as a smile fell onto her face. 

She watched as Rio, naked and all, left the room to go downstairs. "Bring the cake too!"Toni shouted, he could just hear the smirk in her voice.

"You are so nasty!" He yelled back.

 "You love it though!" 

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾 If you're interested in reading other fics based on songs just like this one you can find them here in 'The Mixtapes.' playlist.

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb tags that might be interested: @bigenergy777 @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover

[nei-ning]

Gonna rant a bit. I saw one set of beautiful anthro arts on another website. Sadly they were done in AI. I did left a comment, complimenting how beautiful these arts were but how sad it made me that they were AI arts.

The artist themselves was kind and polite, telling they use AI because they want to learn and be able to make game arts one day (but they too, apparently, with AI so...)

But then there was another user, AI "artist" too who replied to me that there's absolutely NO ARTIST who can draw anthros with detailed fur, goat like arm, lights, colors etc without editing or photoshopping. On the whole planet, absolutely none! This person clearly don't believe in people's skills when it comes on arts. Heck, I followed one artist on DA who drew ALL her arts traditionally and she drew, and still does, SUPER DETAILED FURRY ANTHROS! No photoshop, editing, nothing digital. Just her hands, paper and a set of color pencils.

Also, if people's art skills wouldn't had been amazing back in the days through mankind, we wouldn't have cave paintings, old amazing paintings or sculptures, ALL DONE BY HANDS IN TRADITIONAL WAY. NO AI, NO PHOTOSHOP OR EDITING.

Humans can learn amazing skills if they only want to. AI artists, maybe not all, just wants to take the easiest way / be lazy (and get lots of likes - like that other person who straight forward said it. That he uses AI to create furry arts to get hundreds of likes).

They also mocked my style / arts, saying they are not good enough to be used in AI arts - yet.

Like what the actual fuck?! I am pissed! I don't even want my arts to be used in AI arts by some lazy idiot (or at all). At least I draw EVERYTHING in my arts, from first sketch line to the last shade / light. Surely my skills are not as good as they could be. After all I'm self-taught, not gone in art school like some have. Not to mention I draw for fun, I draw to bring joy to my watchers, I draw therapy arts to myself, I like to keep my style easy and simple. My arts are a hobby, not professional thing or to fish a lot of likes. If my arts can make someone's day a bit better, then I've done my job! I never haven't taken my arts or skills too seriously, trying to improve them to the top.

Is there times when I wish I would put more effort to my arts, learn and study more, becoming better? Absolutely! But do I bother? Not really. Like I said, this is a hobby. I know I would burnout myself if I would start to force and pressure myself to do better, to learn more, to improve my skills. I mean I struggle to draw even now!

I do have some saved tutorials on Pinterest what I would like to try, yes, but still not in a way like if I would have a fire under my ass.

[melancholicstation]

BEAT POETRY ON AMPHETAMINES - a collection of situationship!jfk headcanon's

takes you on "dates" which are in reality him taking you to a matinée showing of an erotic nineteen twenties film that ends in you guys risking a public indecency charge on both your records between the theatre seats

does the equivalent of a "you up?" text by randomly showing up at your parents home and telling them that he's going to take you out on a twilight boat ride across the cape

the night definitely doesn't end with you guys wandering out way top far on the water simply because other things caught your attention...

jfk going to mass because situationship!reader won't answer his letter and/or calls cause she saw something in the newspaper about him and another socialite:

situationship!reader being embarrassingly down bad and commissioning a one of one bespoke tie for jack as a birthday present embroidered with a message like this

always makes incredibly crude and dirty comments whenever you have to make jello for a summer society event or sorority meet, however there's a sick sense of accomplishment that you feel knowing that jack sticks around to watch you do the mundane stuff, rather than simply leaving you after he's had his way like he does with the other girls.... (i'm sorry in order to be in a situationship with jack and not rip your hair out you would have to harbour a pick me/not like other girls complex inside you... i don't make the rules, i just timidly enforce them!)

also the jello moulds would be by gelée (yes, i know the brand wasn't around in 1950s my fanfics exist in a liminal space without the actual laws of time) cause they are my favourite for crafting a 1950s confectionary feel in the modern age (and they have free shipping! hallelujah!) and the jack's favourite flavour would be pĩna coco... don't play with me right now

would actually wow you with his morning after breakfast cooking skills (on his good back days) and would work within the confines of your very limited pantry in your one bedroom apartment...

and then he would return to the bedroom where he left you, wrapped up in a white poplin sheet, with a cobbled together jelly and tahini brioche on a plate to share with one fork for the two of you

at like 4am once you guys had done what you do for most of the little time you get to spend with each other, he'd try his hand at being vulnerable mostly about his chronic illness and back pain...

i'm thinking specifically something akin to how he would write to igna arvad about his outlook on pain as a constant plague on his enjoyment of all the things that life could offer a man as wonderful as he "if i had lived to be a hundred, i could only have improved the quantity of my life, not the quality" but it would be more conversational when in person. because a man like jack doesn't strike me as overly eager to trauma dump, yet also reads as very emotionally intelligent in parts

he always gets letters sent on hotel stationary whenever you stay at the chataeu marmont like this:

after fifty years and once you two have both passed i just know people wander across photos of you two together on pinterest and are like who is that girl with the thirty-first president of the united states?? and why have we never heard of her.

and you two are always serving cunt prince and princess of the people in the photos:

he would write rambling letters to you when he was a little drunk if he caught a glimpse of you at a partying entertaining or simply talking to a man in the manner you once talked to him in (despite making no moves to make your relationship offical or monogamous in any fashion) and then apologise later on in person with a kicked labrador expression or right his wrongs in a follow up letter

you're granted visitations rights to visit his room while he's recovering from 2nd back surgery and you bring bread and broth (due to the strict clinical diet he's been placed under) along with a hand written steve harrison quote "the virtue of soup and bread in a clay pot prepares the body and mind for what is to come" that you use push pins to affix on his hospital room wall

alongside that selection, you begrudgingly bring some adult magazines because he hasn't stopped whining that there was nothing to do all damn day

you guys keep a small pseudo capsule closet in each others drawers. for him: there's a small collection of parisotto cotton shirts in blue, black and navy. for you: there's a pair of linen pyjamas, a biella cashmere jacket and pleat skirt set, and an oversized coat

jack would 100% smell like a mix of abercrombie and fitch fierce cologne and the deauville lotion from chanel

you'd handed him a mother of pearl spoon with some osetrra caviar in a little gift box for christmas...

which then led to jack eating caviar of various parts of your body quietly trying not to wake up those who were still up for the night...

[lili-of-the-wildfire]

okay fine, u all forced my hand in this one. these are MY azzie headcanons, mostly based on what’s canon in the books but i’m nothing if not a woman who would have been forcefully lobotomized so there’s also some delusion sprinkled in. enjoy 😙 (not proof read or correctly punctuated or even coherently arranged, we die like men on this blog)

* he may be a bit quiet in some situations, especially when meeting people who’s intentions he hasn’t quite figured out yet, but if he does nothing else, he’ll offer up a small smile in greeting. he’s not just going to sit there aloof in a corner, sans introduction.

* he’s a total vibe reader tho, his line of work has made sure of that. like he just knows when something is off about someone even if there is evidence saying otherwise. and he’s right every time, damn him.

* he tucks his hands behind his back out of habit, not necessarily shame. he used to be far more insecure, but as the centuries dragged on, he’s become less and less ashamed of what was done to him as a defenseless child.

* that’s not to say he’s fully healed and moved forward, just that time has given him some perspective and wisdom.

* (btw he loves hand massages with your lavender and lemon verbena lotion and he is not afraid to admit it)

* when he gets himself into trouble he tries to slink off into the shadows slowly, instead of disappearing all at once. nobody has a problem calling him out on it, but sometimes he honestly does get away with it.

* he has TASTE! he took one look at cassian and feyre’s gods awful decorating and didn’t even remove his outside clothes before he was fixing it.

* he and his mate’s house would look like something out of a Williams Sonoma holiday catalog.

* the two of you would put up lebron numbers on a joint pinterest account in a modern au.

* he’s quick as a whip with his dry humor and comebacks, and while cassian may be his main target, the two of them combined?? Mr. your mother and Mr. two hundred years at least TOGETHER? jesus it’s a wonder rhys came out of Illyria with the ego that he did.

* he differs from his brothers in that PDA is not his jam. he’s not getting blowjobs at the dining room table or fucking in tents while people die outside. he’s definitely not fingering you for the first time in a shabby inn, either. he’s more publicly reserved than that because he favors romance more.

* you know how rhys/feyre and cassian/nesta fucked before they were in any sort of relationship? azzie’s not doing that with someone he genuinely wants to pursue a relationship with.

* consider the following: does a man who’s spent centuries pining after the same woman come off as anything other than a romantic? no, lovely reader, not in the slightest.

* he’s got the softest heart, i just know it. while he’s kind, he has his reserved exterior, but i think once you get past that as a relationship develops, he’s so tender and thoughtful.

* his gift to nesta was so personal and thoughtful despite their superficial relationship, and he expected nothing in return. imagine what he could come up with for someone he knew on a more personal and intimate level!!

* his gifts may not be as over-the-top extravagant as Rhys would prefer, but they’re so well-planned and personal because he actually listens to you! and he watches you! and he takes the time to actually think about what would be useful and meaningful for you (Mor could NEVER, luv u tho baby)

* while he’s not overtly sexual, Azriel is a FLIRT! a shameless flirt! he doesn’t need to resort to poetry because when you exasperatedly tell him “stop trying to distract me, I’m busy!” he just arches a thick brow, looks you up and down and says “make me.”

* BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* And your cheeks heat a bit because he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’d taste like and he’s starving for it and then he just laughs and you realize you’re a fly that got stuck in those honey-trap eyes again

* So you huff and roll your eyes, turning to leave the room but a hand on your wrist tugs your momentum backwards and suddenly there’s another hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking along your jawline.

* A deep hum rumbles from the back of his throat, his gaze dragging from your mouth up to your eyes, “Do that again, I like watching your eyes roll back for me.”

* ladies/theydies i am PROFUSELY sweating !!!!!!!!!