#now I have sun and mood child boards!!

[little-pup-pip]

Hello!! Could you make a sun child board? :3

Sure!!

[hoseoksluna]

ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head. 

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way. 

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex. 

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past. 

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case. 

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it. 

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you. 

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand. 

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym. 

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top. 

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm. 

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream. 

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious. 

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle. 

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach. 

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.” 

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can. 

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too. 

“Can I have the lollipop, please?” 

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?” 

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny. 

“In my mouth.” 

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth. 

“Open.” 

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat. 

You do open your mouth for him, however. 

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning. 

You pretend you don’t see it. 

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.  

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.” 

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear. 

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake. 

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.” 

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?” 

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?” 

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm. 

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it. 

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down. 

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet. 

And then, he drags you to his car. 

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers. 

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing. 

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.” 

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response. 

Fuck. 

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?” 

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips. 

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you. 

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken. 

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it. 

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek. 

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.” 

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come. 

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer. 

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last. 

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?” 

“I need to come, please.” 

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?” 

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.” 

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?” 

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with. 

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan. 

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction. 

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss. 

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied. 

He grins at you. “I bet.” 

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.” 

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?” 

“Yes, so bad, please.” 

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe. 

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness. 

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.” 

He wants more of your taste. 

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds. 

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.” 

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop. 

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.” 

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed. 

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can���t take it enough. 

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?” 

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.” 

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?” 

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.” 

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream. 

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?” 

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear. 

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.” 

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them. 

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth. 

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms. 

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin. 

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good. 

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.” 

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory. 

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced. 

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you. 

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him. 

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties. 

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs. 

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him. 

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.” 

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else. 

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently. 

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.” 

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first. 

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them. 

“I love you.” 

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time. 

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[ak319]

Dark Arthur Morgan x sis reader

Part II

!!Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, abuse, restrictions // I don't condone such behaviour

+Arthur is in his 20's

AN: I have no idea where this story is going to go as I started this as a one-shot but I kinda love writing it and you guys loved it too, so let's see. Do give feedback and enjoy reading♥︎

Part I

The past two days had been a blur of pain and silence, ever since your brother had shattered the one thing that kept you anchored, your dreams of school, of maybe one day working in a clinic, or standing before a classroom, of seeing more than just this small corner of the world. Now, that hope felt so distant, as if he’d snatched it away with a single sweep of his hand.

The old routine returned, the one you'd hoped was gone for good. He left early in the mornings, going off to odd jobs or working with Dutch before the sun had fully risen, forcing you to make breakfast at 6 a.m. When he came back, he’d drop some cash on the table, tired and bitter, his mood tied to how harsh the day had been. Dinner had to be ready by then, unlike before when he used to help set the table or even cook, back when your mum was exhausted and you didn’t know your way around the kitchen.

"Don't, I'll do it. You’ll probably burn the house down or chop your fingers off," he used to say, his voice teasing but kind. Now it was, "Hm, edible than the last one," said with an empty glance as if nothing had ever changed.

Every time you thought about it, about what had been lost, your eyes welled up, but you swallowed the tears before they could fall.

You didn’t know if he felt guilty for what he did or said that night. At this point, you didn’t even care to know. It’s not like you could ever forget it, or that any apology would bring back the brother you once knew, the caring, normal, fun version of him. That part of him seemed lost forever, and there was nothing you could do to bring it back. So, you buried yourself in chores, keeping your hands and mind busy. Mending old clothes, washing dishes even when they were already clean, mopping the floors, tending to the small garden out back, anything to keep from dwelling on the silence that had taken over the house. Even while washing the clothes, you couldn’t avoid noticing the dark stains, no matter how much you tried to focus elsewhere. Blood, his or someone else’s, you couldn’t tell. Your hands froze in the cold water as the red seeped from the fabric, swirling around your fingers, tainting the water.

As for your books, you read them only at night, waiting until you were sure he was asleep, your door closed tight. There was still that lingering fear in your chest, a whisper in your mind warning that Arthur might not like seeing you with those books. You didn’t want to give him another reason to lash out.

And then there was the matter of your father. You wanted to know if he was safe, if he was even coming back. It gnawed at you that Arthur wasn’t doing anything about it, wasn’t trying to bring him home. You longed to see your father again, to confide in him like you did when you were a child, when you’d run to him after Arthur ate more than his share of your snacks, pulled your hair, or called you silly nicknames. You missed that sense of safety, of having someone who could stand up to your brother with confidence. Maybe he could convince Arthur to let you go back to school, to return to that life and those dreams that now seemed so far away.

⋆⋆⋆

You froze mid-chop as the front door creaked open and shut, the heavy clank of boots echoing through the hallway. They grew louder, each step closer, filling you with a prickling sense of dread. But you kept your eyes on the chopping board, trying to steady your hands, your pace slowing, each slice more hesitant than the last.

"Here, bought the stuff." The bags hit the wooden table with a thud, and you finally turned, not to him, but to the groceries, giving a brief, acknowledging glance.

He lingered a moment longer, then stepped closer, holding out a small packet. The sweet, familiar smell drifted between you, and you recognized it instantly, your favourite treat, the kind that used to make your face light up. But this time, you hesitated, your fingers curling against the counter rather than reaching out.

"What?" His voice came out rough, and when you didn't react, he slammed the packet onto the counter, frustration clear in his movements. It was a clumsy, half-hearted attempt at making amends, and you couldn't bring yourself to reward it with gratitude. You turned back to the chopping, each motion mechanical, as he shifted away, his boots beginning to echo down the hall again.

Before he could leave, your voice broke through the tense silence. “When will Dad be... back?”

He halted, turning with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance at the mention of your father. A scoff curled his lips. "Dad? What, you miss him or somethin'?"

“Hm, of course.” Your response made him pause, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “Oh really? You miss that drunkard’s presence?”

You swallowed, forcing the words out even though they made your throat tighten. “Drunkard or not, he’s still our father.”

“Right, a shit one.”

“At least the one who never... raised his hands on me or even Mum,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The moment they did, his expression darkened, and he stomped toward you, eyes blazing.

“I’ve been more responsible for this house than he ever was! For years!” His voice grew louder, echoing off the walls of the small kitchen, his presence looming. “And you stand there, giving me attitude just because I stopped you from doing such shameless shit- so damn right , I'll raise my hand if i want to!”

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” you cut him off, your voice cracking with desperation. “You’re just refusing to believe it! How could you... not... trust me all of a sudden? Your own sister-”

“Oh no, you’ve changed. Prioritizing that stupid school and homework over everything, acting like you’re better than us. You were always spoiled, and now when I say no to something, this is how you act!” He jabbed a finger in your direction, his words sharp and accusing.

“I have always been like this!” Your voice broke, the emotions too raw to keep in check. “You’re the one who changed... in the worst way.” The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, blurring your vision as you turned away from him, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

Arthur stood there, watching you crumble before him. His stance, rigid and defensive, softened as he took in the sight of your back trembling with each breath. Your eyes and the way you spoke back reminded him of his mother again. This was the same way she had argued with Dad, fierce and unwavering, standing her ground against the lifestyle he had chosen, against his irresponsible behavior that seemed to spiral deeper every day. Even before you were born, when he was just a toddler, he remembered the echoes of those arguments drifting through the dimly lit rooms of their home.

He clenched his fists, an unfamiliar doubt creeping into his mind, wondering, Had he really changed?

“Well, yes, I have,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “So stop trying to change me!" he snapped, though his voice lacked the conviction it once had. “You think it’s that easy? You think I’m doing this for fun? I’m doing what I have to do to survive! You’re just too soft to understand, having no clue how the world works outside, what kind of people are out there... and I see them every damn day.” He spoke as if trying to convince himself as much as you, a strange mix of frustration and something close to regret lingering in the air.

“Aren’t you one of them?” you retorted, wiping your face harshly, the anger seeping into every word. He went deadly quiet, the air thickening as his voice dropped to a dangerous, controlled tone.

“See? You don’t get it. I’m doing this to keep you safe! This roof over your head, that food you’re cooking!”

“There are other ways too-”

“DAMN IT!" He slammed his fist on the chopping board. " I wasn’t raised to be cut out for such jobs! Don’t you fucking know this? That damned father of ours, he set me on this path! Stop being so ignorant, dumbass!” As if your father was the one who had led him to lovely Dutch.

“But you’re capable of doing something different, more honest. But if you keep doing this, you’re digging yourself deeper--”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Enough!” His face twisted in frustration, his words coming out like a snarl. “Whatever work I do, whatever I earn, it’s more rewarding than any job, so shut it and don’t ever lecture me.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, but you weren’t ready to let it end like that. “Arthur! At least take me... to see him...”

He stopped abruptly, turning back with a fierce glare. “What did you just say?”

“Dad... I want to-”

“Oh, so now you wanna stroll to stations? Absolutely not!” He spat the words like venom, his face contorted with anger. “They’re keeping him there for some time, and I can’t always bail him out. It’s not safe for me to go to the sheriff’s, either. So be happy they aren’t executing him this time.” The bitterness in his voice cut through the space between you, leaving a chill that settled deep in your bones.

⋆⋆⋆

It was the next day when you went to the small backyard to bring out the dried clothes when you spotted Isla walking with Mrs. Anne towards your house over the fence.

"(Y/N)?" Isla was the first to spot you and exclaim, which made you instantly glance back at the door of your house, even though he had gone out to the bar or somewhere, you still feared he might have returned.

"No--um-"

"Why haven't you been coming to school, dear? We thought you were sick." Your eyes caught Isla's over the heap of clothes you held in your arms. Her eyes held a different worry, a worry that indicated she might know the truth of your absence. A hint of guilt was also there, perhaps she blamed herself for that day, for begging you to walk back home.

"No-it's just I am fine and--actually there is a lot of work to do at home so, I thought, I'll continue the studies later." By now, both of them were standing near the fence where you had walked to near as well.

Mrs. Anne’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied your face. "That doesn’t sound right, dear. You’ve always loved school. Are you sure everything is okay?" Her tone was gentle, but you could feel the weight of suspicion in her words.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yes, I’m sure. There’s just... a lot going on right now."

Isla's concern was more intense, her expression pinched with a guilt that made your chest tighten. "It’s because of that day, isn’t it? When I begged you to walk home with me? If I hadn’t asked, none of this would have happened-"

You shook your head, forcing a reassuring smile even though the mention of that day made your throat tighten. "No, Isla, it’s not your fault. Really, it’s just... family stuff. Arthur needs help with things."

You caught Isla’s gaze darting toward the house, where shadows loomed behind drawn curtains. Her voice softened. "We can help, you know. I can come by after school, or we can figure out a way for you to keep studying."

Your heart pounded, anxiety prickling at the back of your neck at the idea of Isla or Mrs. Anne stepping inside, seeing the reality you lived in. What if Arthur came back while they were here? What if he got angry at their intrusion?

"No, Isla, you don’t have to worry about me. Please, just... don’t."

Mrs. Anne’s concerned frown deepened. "Well, dear, if you change your mind, we’re always here to help." She glanced meaningfully between you and Isla. "And don’t forget, you have people who care about you."

You offered them a smile that felt more like a grimace, clutching the clothes to your chest as if they could shield you from their concern. "Thank you, Mrs. Anne, Isla. I appreciate it."

As they turned and walked away, you stood there by the fence, their kindness hanging in the air like a warning. You cast a nervous glance back at the door, still half-expecting Arthur to burst through, demanding to know why they were there, why they were asking questions. And as much as you wanted to believe in their words, you knew better than to let your guard down.

For now, keeping them away was the only way to protect them and yourself.

The next morning, Arthur makes his way into town, his mind already on the day’s jobs, the money he will bring home, and what might await him at Van der Linde's current camp. But as he slowly rides past the general store, he catches sight of Mrs. Anne standing outside, chatting with some of the older townsfolk. He hastened, hoping to slip past unnoticed, but she spotted him. Her expression shifts, and she steps forward, calling out to him with a voice that carries over the quiet street.

“Arthur, a word, if you’ve got a moment.”

He considers ignoring her, pretending he hasn’t heard, but he stops the horse nonetheless. Gritting his teeth, he turns and walks back, forcing a tight, hollow smile as he meets her gaze.

“What is it, Mrs. Anne?” His tone is mocking, his patience already wearing thin.

She looks him up and down, her expression a blend of concern and disapproval. “I saw (Y/N) yesterday when I visited. She looked... worn out. I asked why she hasn’t been to school, and she said she’s got too much work at home.”

Arthur’s smile drops, his jaw clenching hard enough to make his teeth ache. “That’s our business,” he says sharply, his voice carrying an edge of warning. “She’s got plenty to do at home right now."

Mrs. Anne’s expression softens, but it’s the kind of softness that only makes his anger spike. “Arthur, listen to me. She’s a bright girl with a future ahead of her. She doesn’t belong stuck at home doing chores. Don’t do this to her.”

Arthur steps closer, his eyes flashing dangerously, and lowers his voice to a harsh whisper. “You think you know what’s best for us? You don’t know a damn thing about what we need to survive. I’m the one responsible for her. I won’t let her wander around with empty dreams when there’s real work to be done. God knows what you are really teaching her, there. She studied enough.”

Mrs Anne stiffens at the tone of the large man but doesn’t back down. “What are you talking about!? I am teaching everyone the basics of life, what is needed to survive! What you’re doing is taking away her chance, Arthur. Your mother-”

He cuts her off, his voice dropping even lower, a dark snarl in his words. “Don’t you dare talk about her. This is my family now. I make the decisions, and she stays home where I can keep an eye on her.”

Mrs. Anne’s face tightens with frustration, but she knows better than to push him further. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing, Arthur,” she says, her voice barely a murmur as she steps back. “Before it’s too late.”

"Oh, you should be lucky your son is still alive. If I catch you or the girls from your school prancing around my house or near (Y/N)… trust me, you don't want that." He let his words hang in the air and watched as the older woman gulped, her face paling as she stumbled back, horror mixed with confusion in her wide eyes.

Arthur doesn’t respond. He turns on his heel and walks away to his horse, a cold, simmering rage coiling inside his chest. Her words hang in the back of his mind, a nagging echo that he shoves down with grim determination. He knows what’s best, he has to.

When he returns home that evening, the anger is still there, burning just beneath the surface. And the thought of you defying him, of sneaking around behind his back to talk to Mrs. Anne, only makes it worse. His footsteps are heavier than usual, each one sending a message through the quiet house that he’s not in the mood for any more surprises.

You peek out of your room, the creak of your door catching his attention. His head snaps in your direction, eyes narrowing.

"You just don't get it, do you? What did you do? Cry to her or somethin'?!"

You swallow hard, clutching the doorknob, ready to slam the door shut if things escalate. Although, aware he can break the door if he wants, anyway. How did he even find out? But fear keeps the question trapped in your throat.

"I didn't cry or say anything!" you manage, your voice having a hint of tremble.

He turns around with a grunt, a mocking smirk pulling at his lips. "Well, you must have acted all miserable. Sending people to speak on your behalf. Very clever." His tone is dripping with disdain, each word another stab, another false accusation.

You look away, biting down on your tongue to keep from snapping back, but he catches the tension in your jaw, his eyes glinting with something darker, more dangerous. He steps closer, his voice dropping low. "Do whatever you want, but my decision is final." The words are like a cold blade pressed against your neck.

He brushes past your room on the way to his, and your heart sinks as you hear the thud of his door slamming shut. You flinch, letting out a shaky sigh of relief. But as his words sink in, the temporary reprieve vanishes. You realize that waiting for things to change, waiting for Arthur to soften, to bring back the brother you once knew, it’s a hope that is growing colder by the day. And then there’s your father, the man who always seemed to carry his own storms. You imagine him alone, behind the bars of some cold cell, counting the days without a visit from his family, without even the knowledge that someone still cares. The thought makes your chest ache. Arthur’s rules and his threats, suffocate you, but you’ve reached a breaking point. If he refuses to let you see your father, then you’ll have to find a way yourself. It’s a risk, a dangerous one, but the image of your father sitting alone is more unbearable than the fear of Arthur’s wrath.

Part III

(AN: MEME DUMP cuz why not. Reader deserves it.)

[thyras]

→ of great blessings

PAIRING → annatar | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 8.5k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → visions, pregnancy, lots of angst, dad!sauron

SUMMARY → your visions and premonitions since wearing nenya have never been wrong, and what you see now frightens you to your core.

AUTHORS NOTE → alright this chapter has been the bane of my exsistance and i am washing my hands of it. writers block took over so much for this that i kinda will not be surprised if y'all don't like this chapter. i'm drained after this one. we are going to start steam rolling to the end now. the timeline is gonna shift a little as pregnancy for elves take for fucking ever, so yeah. 

masterlist // series playlist // mood board

The warmth of the sun kissed your cheeks as the soft bristles of pale purple blossoms trailed across your skin. A youthful giggle filled the air, mingling with the golden light. Your eyes turned toward the toddling infant as she struggled through her first steps among the blossoms. Her red hair gleamed in the sun’s glow, a striking inheritance from her father.

“There you go,” Mairon encouraged, pride lacing his voice. “Just a few more, sweetheart.”

Your gaze finally landed on your husband, his arms stretched wide, ready to catch her should she stumble. His eyes sparkled with a fatherly love that warmed your heart. You leaned back on your hands as the infant tumbled into her father’s arms, a fit of giggles bubbling from her lips as he scooped her up and pressed a gentle kiss to her small head.

Watching him with her sent a warm, steady thrum through your chest, a love so deep it left you breathless. This was all you had ever wanted to give him—the peace and harmony he had spent a lifetime searching for, the same solace he had once found in you in those elder days. Yet, there had always been something missing, a fragment of your fëar left unhealed, a wound time alone could not mend. It had always been your desire to share in this great joy, as was the way of all Elves—a love that endured beyond the confines of time, woven into the very fabric of Arda.

You had longed to be like Thingol and Melian, bound in a love so profound that it transcended the ages. To love as one, to bring forth a fëa as pure and radiant as Lúthien herself—a child who was a reflection of both your souls, a harmony of light and strength. And now, as you watched your husband cradle your daughter, her laughter ringing like the sweetest song, you knew that dream had finally come to life.

But something twisted deep within you, and suddenly, your eyes burned with unshed tears as the scene before you shifted. The sunlit meadow and the laughter of your child faded into darkness, replaced by the acrid scent of smoke and the searing heat of fire. The riverbank lay scorched and marred by the devastation of war, its once-tranquil waters reflecting only ruin.

Behind you, Eregion burned—just as Laureandor had, long ago. Panic seized your chest, your heart hammering as your frantic gaze swept through the chaos, desperate to find the fiery hair of your daughter.

And then you saw her.

Hand in hand with her father.

His golden hair gleamed like molten gold amidst the flames, his striking presence unchanged—except for the smile that curved his lips. A smile not of warmth, but of something darker. Something cruel. His icy eyes, once filled with love, now glowed with a devilish light as he looked down upon the fragile, childlike frame beside him.

Your breath hitched. The world around you trembled.

No.

Your body jolted upright, the sudden movement nearly sending Annatar tumbling from the bed. Your breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, each sharp intake searing your lungs. The dream clung to you like smoke, vivid and raw, its horror so tangible that you struggled to separate illusion from reality. It had felt so real—too real—so consuming that for a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure if you had truly escaped it.

“Mori?” His voice was laced with concern.

You turned to him, your wide eyes locking onto his face. Fear curled in your chest, rising like a tide, for in his gaze—those piercing blue eyes, that familiar smile—you saw the echoes of your nightmare. A cruel reflection of what could be.

Everything you had dreaded.

The pain of a child born into his shadows.

The inevitable weight of his past, now intertwined with yours.

As the haze of the dream slowly receded, his eyes—no longer filled with the malice of that nightmare—softened with quiet concern. The piercing chill you had seen within the dreamscape had vanished, replaced by the worried tenderness you had come to know so well.

Gently, he reached out, brushing a few strands of damp hair from your sweat-slicked brow before his fingers trailed down to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, grounding, an anchor pulling you back from the lingering edges of fear. You exhaled shakily, leaning into his palm, finding solace in the familiar heat of his skin, the scent of him—real and unwavering.

A small, fragile smile ghosted your lips as you closed your eyes.

“It was only a dream,” you whispered against his palm, as much to reassure yourself as to ease the worry in his gaze.

Annatar's brow furrowed, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your cheek. "What did you see?" he asked softly, his voice laced with quiet concern, yet tinged with something else—something unreadable.

You hesitated, the weight of your dream still pressing upon your chest. How could you put into words the beauty you had witnessed, only to watch it twist into something dark and terrible? How could you explain the unbearable fear that had gripped you when you saw him, standing amidst the flames, leading your child away?

"I…" Your voice barely rose above a whisper. "I saw us. And… a child."

His hand stilled against your skin, his sharp blue eyes flickering with emotion—too fleeting, too complex for you to decipher.

"A child?" he echoed, his tone carefully measured.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "She was beautiful, Mairon," you murmured, your voice trembling. "She had your fiery hair and green eyes. We were on the riverbank, surrounded by sage blossoms. You were teaching her to walk, and she was laughing…"

For a brief moment, the warmth of the dream returned, the golden light, the sound of her laughter—but it was fleeting. The memory of what followed crashed over you like a wave, drowning it in fire and shadow.

Annatar’s fingers tightened slightly against your cheek, his gaze searching yours.

"But?" he pressed gently, sensing the fracture in your voice.

You inhaled shakily, trying to steady yourself, but the words still came out fractured. "But then… everything changed. The meadow was burning. Eregion was in ruins. And you—" You stopped, the image of him in the flames seared into your mind. "You were different. Your eyes were cold… cruel. You were leading her away into the fire."

A heavy silence settled between you, thick with unspoken fears.

Annatar’s hand dropped from your face, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, laden with unspoken fears and painful truths. Annatar’s hand slipped away from your face, his expression unreadable, carefully composed as he processed your words. Yet you saw it—the flicker of something beneath his guarded exterior.

You watched him, your heart aching at the distance that seemed to widen with each passing moment. The warmth of his touch had already begun to fade, replaced by a cold uncertainty that settled deep in your chest.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “It was just a dream, Mori. Nothing more.”

But you heard the strain beneath the calm, saw the tension in the rigid line of his shoulders. This wasn’t just about a nightmare—it was about something deeper. The unspoken fears that had lingered between you since the beginning. The shadows neither of you dared name.

"Was it?" you whispered, the words fragile, hesitant. "Or was it a glimpse of what could be?"

His eyes snapped to yours, something sharp and unguarded flashing through them—pain? Anger? Fear? For the briefest of moments, his mask slipped, revealing a piece of his carefully shrouded thoughts.

Annatar’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the smooth expanse of his skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, carefully controlled—but the tension within it was unmistakable.

"You doubt me still."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, weighted with something raw—hurt, resignation, the quiet ache of an old wound reopened.

Your heart clenched at the distance in his tone, the way he withdrew not in body, but in spirit. Desperate to bridge the widening space between you, you reached for him, your fingers brushing tentatively against his arm.

“No, Mairon," you murmured, your voice soft, pleading. "I don’t doubt you. I doubt…” You faltered, struggling to give shape to the gnawing fear in your heart. How could you explain the unease that lurked in the edges of your love? The whisper of doubt that no matter how fiercely he fought against it, no matter how much he tried to change, the darkness within him might one day rise again—might consume you both?

Annatar’s eyes—brilliant, piercing—locked onto yours, holding you there, unraveling you. His hand hovered for a moment before settling over yours, his grip firm but not unkind.

"You doubt what?" he pressed, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. His gaze burned, searching you for something—an answer, a reassurance, a truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Because you knew that whatever you said next would change everything.

You took a deep, steadying breath, knowing that your next words could shift something irrevocably between you. The weight of centuries—of love, pain, betrayal, and forgiveness—hung thick in the air, pressing down on your chest.

"I don’t doubt you, Mairon," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of your heart. "I doubt… the darkness that still lingers within you. The part of you that you’ve fought so hard to control, to change."

Annatar’s expression remained carefully composed, but you caught it—the flicker of something in his eyes, brief yet unmistakable. Pain.

His grip on your hand tightened, so slightly it might have gone unnoticed, but you felt it. A silent plea. A warning.

"I know you’ve changed," you continued, your voice steadier now, gaining strength. "I’ve seen it, felt it. The love you show me, the tenderness… it’s real. I don’t question that. But I also know the darkness hasn’t disappeared. It’s still there, buried deep, waiting."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, to speak the fear that had haunted you since the dream.

"And I fear…"

The words trembled on your lips, but you could not stop now.

"I fear that one day, it will call to you again. And I fear that when it does… you will answer."

A heavy silence settled between you, deeper than before. Annatar did not move, did not speak, yet something in the air shifted, charged with an emotion you could not yet name.

And for the first time, you did not know what he would say.

Annatar’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence between you stretching wide, a chasm neither of you dared to cross. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.

“You’re right,” he admitted, the words falling heavy between you. “The darkness is still there. It will always be a part of me, just as the light is a part of you.”

He paused, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “But you’re wrong if you think I would ever willingly choose that darkness over you. Over us.”

His hand tightened around yours, almost painfully so. “Do you think I don’t fear the same things?” he asked, a rare, desperate edge creeping into his voice. “That I don’t lie awake at night, terrified that I might one day lose control and hurt you? That I might become the monster I once was?”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. The carefully constructed walls he had built, even with you, seemed to crack, revealing the turmoil that lay beneath.

“But I fight it,” he continued, his voice fierce now. “Every day, every moment, I fight against that darkness. For you. For us. For the life we’re building together.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, moved by the passion, the pain in his words. You reached up with your free hand, cupping his cheek, your fingers brushing against skin that had known both cruelty and tenderness.

“I know you do,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And I see that struggle, Mairon. I do. But the dream…”

“Was just a dream,” he interrupted, though his tone was gentler now. “A manifestation of your fears.”

But you knew it was not.

You had seen too much, felt too much. In the time since you had been chosen to bear Nenya, visions had come to you—fragments of what was to come, glimpses of futures that others could not see. And every one of them, in its own way, had come true.

And now, here he was.

He had persuaded Celebrimbor to forge the Rings, using your gentle guidance to shape their purpose. He had earned the trust of the people of Eregion, weaving himself seamlessly into their world. And now, he stood before you, offering what he knew you most desired.

A future. A child. A life beyond war and shadow.

But at what cost?

Your fingers trembled against his skin, your heart caught between love and doubt, between the man you cherished and the darkness you feared.

And deep within, you knew—this was not just a dream. It was a warning.

You took a slow, steady breath, steeling yourself for what you needed to say.

“Mairon,” you murmured, voice gentle but unwavering. “I know you believe it was just a dream. But… it wasn’t. Not entirely.”

His brow furrowed, concern flickering through his features, shadowed by something deeper—an unease he did not yet understand.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the weight of your words pressing heavily upon you. How could you explain? How could you make him see what you had seen? The visions that had plagued you since you accepted Nenya, the fleeting glimpses of futures unfurling at the edges of your consciousness—both breathtaking and terrible?

"Since I began wearing Nenya," you said slowly, carefully choosing each word, "I’ve had… visions. Fragments of what is to come. And in their own way, every single one of them has come to pass."

Annatar stilled.

For the first time in this conversation, you saw something shift in his eyes—not just surprise, but something colder. Sharper. A flicker of wariness, of understanding.

You knew what he was thinking.

If your visions had always been true, then what you had seen in your dream—the fire, the ruin, the cruelty in his gaze—was more than fear. It was prophecy.

And that, more than anything, was what unsettled him.

He held your gaze, his expression unreadable. But you could feel it—the quiet storm brewing behind his eyes, the unspoken thoughts racing through his mind.

“And what is it you saw?” he asked at last, his voice deceptively calm.

You swallowed hard, but you would not falter.

“I saw you,” you whispered. “I saw our child.”

You inhaled shakily, forcing yourself to continue.

"And I saw fire. I saw Eregion burning. And you..." Your voice wavered, but you pushed forward. "You were leading her away. And you weren’t the man sitting before me now. You weren’t the man I love."

The silence between you grew heavier, denser, as if the very air had thickened with the weight of what had been spoken.

Annatar did not move. Did not speak.

And you feared, deep down, that in this moment, your vision was already beginning to come true.

Annatar’s expression hardened, his eyes turning cold and distant. A wall rose between you, thick and impenetrable, the warmth in his gaze vanishing like embers smothered by ash.

For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between you, vast and unyielding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured, but the tension thrumming beneath it was impossible to miss.

“So this is what you truly think of me,” he said, his words sharp, each syllable cutting deep. “After everything we’ve been through, after all I’ve done to change, you still see me as a monster waiting to emerge.”

Your heart clenched at the pain woven into his anger.

“No, Mairon, that’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” he cut you off, his eyes flashing like cold steel. “You’ve just told me you’ve seen a future where I betray you, where I lead our child into darkness. How am I supposed to interpret that?”

Desperation surged through you as you reached for him, but he pulled away, rising swiftly from the bed. The loss of his warmth was instant, leaving you cold, bereft.

“Mairon, please,” you pleaded, your voice cracking beneath the weight of your emotions. “I’m not saying this is what will happen. I’m saying it’s a possibility we need to be aware of.”

He turned to face you, his jaw taut, his expression a careful mask of control—but you could see the fury and the hurt roiling beneath the surface.

“A possibility?” he scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. “One that you seem all too ready to believe in.”

You flinched, as if struck. His words, so sharp, so heavy with pain, tore into you.

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, the ache in your chest unbearable. “I love you, Mairon. I believe in you. But I can’t ignore what I’ve seen.”

Annatar’s gaze darkened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And what would you have me do?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Abandon our plans? Our future? Everything we’ve worked for?”

You shook your head, tears burning at the edges of your vision. “No, of course not. I just… I need you to understand. To be aware of the danger.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped him, devoid of anything but frustration. “Aware?” he repeated bitterly. “Mori, I am always aware. Every moment of every day, I fight against the darkness within me. For you. For us. And yet, it seems it will never be enough.”

His words shattered something inside you.

You rose from the bed, closing the distance between you once more. This time, when you reached for him, he did not pull away. But he remained rigid beneath your touch, his body taut with unspoken emotion.

“Mairon, please,” you whispered, your voice thick with sorrow. “I’m not asking you to abandon our future. I’m asking you to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember what truly matters.”

His eyes bore into yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths.

“And what is truly important, Mori?” he asked, his voice low, intense. “Tell me.”

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself, reaching for the truth that lay at the heart of everything.

“Us,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your chest. “Our love. The life we’re building together. The life that was torn from us. That’s what matters most.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, only searching your face as if trying to decipher something hidden within you.

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tension in his body eased.

And for the first time since your dream, you felt a sliver of hope. 

As if your vision had been nothing more than the manifestation of your own fears—born from the weight of what he was trying to accomplish here, from the precarious balance he walked between light and shadow.

Annatar’s eyes softened, the sharp edges of his anger beginning to crumble. Slowly, he reached up, his hand covering yours where it rested against his cheek.

“Us,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word, testing its weight. “Our love.”

You nodded, feeling the first stirrings of hope pierce through the fear that had settled so deeply in your chest.

“Yes,” you whispered. “That’s what matters most. That’s what we need to protect, above all else.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze searching yours with a depth that sent a shiver down your spine. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, tinged with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Do you truly believe I would ever willingly choose darkness over you?” he asked. “Over the life we’re building?”

Your breath hitched.

He had before.

He had chosen to run from you rather than face the curse at your side, rather than fight for you, for himself. He had believed, then, that his only choice was to protect you by abandoning you. And if that choice had been easy for him once—what would stop him now?

You hesitated, the weight of history pressing heavily between you. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

“I want to believe you wouldn’t,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But, Mairon… you’ve chosen darkness before. You ran from me, from us, when the curse first took hold.”

Pain flickered across his features, old wounds laid bare in the space between you.

“That was different,” he argued, but the fire had faded from his voice. “I was trying to protect you then.”

You shook your head, your hand slipping from his cheek to press against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“And in doing so, you nearly destroyed us both,” you reminded him gently. “Your intentions may have been good, but the outcome…”

You trailed off, overwhelmed by the memories of those dark years. The weight of his absence. The devastation of believing he had chosen power over love. The aching, unrelenting certainty that he had abandoned you because he had feared himself more than he had loved you.

Annatar’s expression softened further, sorrow and regret etching deep lines around his eyes. He covered your hand with his own, his fingers twining between yours, grounding you.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, rough with something raw. “I made the wrong choice then. But I’ve learned from that mistake, Mori. I won’t repeat it.”

You wanted to believe him.

Oh, how desperately you wanted to believe that the love you shared, the bond you had fought so hard to rebuild, would be enough to keep the darkness at bay. But the vision lingered, a shadow curling at the edges of your mind, whispering that love alone had never been enough to save him before.

“I want to believe that,” you murmured, the tremor in your voice betraying the doubt you couldn’t silence. “But the future I saw…”

“Is not set in stone,” he interrupted firmly, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his touch warm and grounding.

His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, as if he could soothe away your fears with touch alone.

“We shape our own fates, Mori,” he murmured. “No vision—no prophecy—can take that from us.”

It came as no surprise when the first stirrings of new life graced you just days after your vision. The power of the ring upon your finger had known—had always known—that you would be granted what you desired most.

But it did not quell the fear.

A fear born of that very ring.

There were days you longed to slip it from your finger, to cast it aside and free yourself from the weight of its premonitions. To unshackle yourself from the knowledge of what was to come. Other days, you wished to turn a blind eye, to live out your immortal life in blissful ignorance—unburdened by foresight, untouched by the shadows of possibility.

And yet, deep within, you understood the truth. Futures could change. Paths, ever winding, could shift toward another destination.

But Morgoth’s curse remained.

It kept the ring upon your hand, bound you to its whispers, to the knowledge you could not unlearn. And despite everything, despite the fear curling like smoke in your chest, the need to be in his arms—to be enveloped in his aura—surpassed it all.

You trusted him, of course you did.

But doubt had crept in, insidious and unrelenting.

He could reassure you a thousand times, but you knew him. Truly knew him. And just as surely, you knew what this darker version of him was capable of.

Your fingers ghosted across the fabric of your gown as you sat at the table in Celebrimbor’s study. Excitement stirred within you, a quiet thrill at the thought of the new life you would grow, shape, and mold in your image. Yet beneath that joy lurked the deeper, unspoken truth—you knew what they could inherit. And you knew what that would mean to him.

Turning slightly, your gaze drifted down into the forge below, where Celebrimbor and Annatar stood, engrossed in pleasant conversation with Durin as they handed over the newly fashioned rings. The soft glow of the dwindling fire illuminated their forms, flickering off Annatar’s golden hair as he gestured fluidly, speaking in that smooth, measured cadence that had once soothed you beyond words.

Your thoughts drifted, lingering upon your husband.

Would they inherit this form’s features—the golden radiance of Annatar? Or, by some chance, would they be marked by Mairon’s truer essence?

You hoped for the latter.

Fiery red hair as bright as the sun itself and soft sea foam green eyes that would shine like emeralds in certain lights. Would they have those delicate, reddish freckles across the bridge of their nose?

But in truth, you did not know. How could you?

You understood little of how Maiar conception worked, nor did you care to unravel its mysteries.

All that mattered was this—you were finally having what you had dreamed of for Ages.

Your nurturing nature finally felt satisfied—whole—as your fingers idly traced the silken fabric of your gown. You would raise them in the light, in the beauty of all living things, ensuring they would never feel the touch of shadow.

"Everything okay, my lady?"

Celebrimbor’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Immediately, your hands slipped away from your stomach as you looked up to meet his gaze. His brow was raised, curiosity flickering behind his eyes.

"Yes," you answered quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile. "How do they like the rings?"

Celebrimbor stepped closer, settling into the chair across from you.

"They are satisfied with them," he replied, his tone measured, thoughtful. "They will let us know if any problems arise."

You nodded, a small smile touching your lips as you glanced down at the papers spread before you.

A beat of silence passed.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Celebrimbor’s voice softened, his perceptive gaze studying you carefully. "You look pale."

"I am fine."

It was a lie, but a necessary one.

Celebrimbor seemed satisfied with the answer, though the weight of his questioning gaze lingered, unwilling to fully retreat.

You seized the opportunity to shift the conversation. "What was this I heard about a gift?" you asked, picking up your quill and turning your attention back to the designs before you.

Celebrimbor’s expression softened into a smile. "I wish to gift the Dwarves with something—to honor the great friendship we have built."

You glanced up at him again. "What do you have in mind?"

He exhaled, thoughtful, but before answering, his gaze flickered over you once more.

"I have ideas," he admitted, but then his tone shifted, firm yet kind. "But after all this hard work, Thilwen, I think you should rest. I'll handle this myself with the other smiths, and you—" he gestured toward you, his brows knitting slightly, "you take a break for a few days. You look like you need it."

"I can—"

Celebrimbor held up a hand, stopping you before you could argue further.

"Please," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Do it for me. You have worked night and day since we began forging the rings, and I will not have you running yourself into the ground on my account."

You exhaled softly, offering him a half-smile. Before you could say more, he reached across the table, his fingers curling around yours with quiet reassurance. His thumb brushed absently over the top of your hand—a small, familiar gesture of comfort.

"I will finish up here today," you conceded, squeezing his hand lightly, "and then I will do as you ask."

Celebrimbor smiled, warmth flickering in his eyes as he gave your hand a final, reassuring squeeze.

"Good," he said. "Besides, I know Erynwen has been upset that you haven’t had time for her."

You giggled, already picturing the little girl’s excitement. She was probably chomping at the bit to spend an afternoon at the riverbank, eager to hear more of your husband's stories. You had been so consumed with your work that, in the past few weeks, she had been the furthest thing from your mind.

And that thought—more than anything else—made you realize just how much you truly needed the rest.

Erynwen sat beside you amidst the soft grasses and blooming flowers, both of you gazing up at the vast expanse of blue sky. Wisps of white clouds drifted lazily across it, shifting and reshaping as they danced upon the wind.

Every so often, Erynwen would point out a pattern—a creature, a ship, a story waiting to be told. Her wondrous imagination had always captivated you, a gift as pure as the light itself. You had only ever wished to nurture it, to encourage her to see the world with the same boundless wonder she so effortlessly carried.

Erynwen’s small hand slipped into yours, her fingers warm and trusting as she turned to face you, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Thilwen," she began, her voice soft but eager, "will you tell me another story about him?"

A smile touched your lips, warmth blooming in your chest at her request. Erynwen had become enamored with the stories of your husband, her young mind filled with visions of the great smith who had captured your heart so long ago.

Since opening this part of your life—since allowing yourself to speak of him more openly—it had become second nature to share his story, to weave the tale of who he was now.

It felt only right.

To tell of his light.

"Of course," you replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "What would you like to hear about today?"

Erynwen's brow furrowed in thought, her lips pursing as she pondered the question. A long moment passed before her expression brightened, her grin spreading wide as excitement sparked in her gaze.

"Tell me about when you first met him," she said, bouncing slightly where she sat. "What was he like when you first saw him?"

A wistful smile tugged at your lips as your mind drifted back to that golden day so long ago. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday—the warmth of the sun on your skin, the sweet scent of of the forest carried on the breeze, and that first glimpse of him, standing tall and radiant against that tree.

"He was unlike anyone I had ever seen," you began, your voice soft with reminiscence. "His hair was like molten copper, shimmering in the sunlight. And his eyes... they were the most vibrant shade of green, like the first tender leaves of spring."

Erynwen’s eyes widened, her imagination already painting the image in her mind. "Was he handsome?"

You laughed softly, giving her hand a playful squeeze. "Oh yes, very handsome. But it was more than that. There was something about him—a presence, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within. It was as if he carried the very essence of creation, a spark of the divine."

Erynwen sighed dreamily, resting her chin in her free hand. "That sounds so romantic."

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest at her innocent wonder. If only life could remain so simple, so untouched by the shadows that inevitably crept in.

"In many ways, it was," you agreed, your thumb absently brushing over the back of her small hand. "I had never felt the need to bind myself to another, but something deep in my fëa told me that his song matched mine in ways no other could."

You paused, the memory wrapping around you like the embrace of a long-lost friend. That time had been simpler, effortless. To love Mairon had been to love divinity itself, and back then, he had been just that.

A wider smile touched your lips as his words echoed in your mind—the image of him standing before you, a book clutched tightly to his chest, lingering just for a few more stolen moments in your presence.

Then, Erynwen’s voice pulled you back to the present.

"You love him still? Even though you are with Lord Annatar now?"

Your breath caught slightly as her icy-blue eyes searched yours, unblinking and filled with childlike curiosity. She did not know. She could not know.

Your fingers moved to gently cup her cheek, and you offered her a reassuring smile.

"I do. More than anything." You paused, your thumb brushing tenderly across her soft skin. "But in a way, Lord Annatar reminds me of him."

You would never tell Erynwen the truth—that he and Annatar were one and the same. It was a secret you could never risk sharing. For if the darkness that still clung to him ever returned, you would not let it taint her innocent image of him.

Silence stretched between you for a moment, the distant hum of nature filling the space. Then, her voice came again, softer this time—uncertain, vulnerable.

"Are we going to stop reading once you have your baby?"

Her fingers tightened slightly around yours, and when you looked at her, you saw something fragile in her expression—a fear she had not voiced before.

Surprise flickered across your face. Surely, no one had a clue yet. But then again, Erynwen’s curiosity surpassed all others. She had always known more than she let on.

Your heart softened at her innocent question, and you wrapped an arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close against your side. She nestled into you, her head resting against your chest as you stroked her silky hair.

"Of course not, dear one," you assured her, your voice gentle but firm. "Having a baby will change some things, but it will never change how much I care for you. Our reading time is special, and that won’t go away just because I become a mother."

Erynwen looked up at you, her icy blue eyes wide and hopeful. "Promise?"

You smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I promise. You are like a daughter to me, Erynwen. And that bond is unbreakable, no matter what changes life may bring."

Relief washed over her delicate features, and she hugged you tightly, her small arms wrapping around you. You held her close, your heart swelling with love for this precious child who had become such an integral part of your life.

As you sat there, embracing Erynwen amidst the swaying grasses and wildflowers, a gentle breeze caressed your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of the blossoms. The moment felt suspended in time, a brief respite from the worries that had plagued you since your vision. Here, with Erynwen's innocent trust and unwavering affection, the shadows felt distant, less threatening.

But even as you savored this peaceful interlude, you knew it could not last forever. The weight of your secret, of the life growing within you, pressed against your consciousness. You would have to tell Annatar soon—and you knew that conversation would not be easy. Though he had reassured you after your vision, promising that your love would be enough to keep the darkness at bay, the fear still lingered. How would he react to the news that your dream was already becoming reality?

As if sensing your unease, Erynwen hugged you tighter, her small hands fisting in the fabric of your dress. You focused on the warmth of her embrace, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, allowing her presence to ground you in the moment.

You knew you could not hide from the truth forever. But for now, in this peaceful glade with Erynwen in your arms, you let yourself believe that everything would be all right. That the love you shared with Annatar, the life you were building together, would be strong enough to weather any storm.

You closed your eyes, resting your cheek against the top of Erynwen's head as you held her close. The gentle breeze continued to whisper through the grass, carrying with it the distant chirping of birdsong. For a few precious moments, you allowed yourself to simply be present in the tranquility of the scene, your fears and uncertainties temporarily held at bay by the warmth of Erynwen's embrace and the serenity of the meadow around you.

After a time, Erynwen stirred, lifting her head to gaze up at you with those perceptive icy-blue eyes. "Thilwen," she began softly, her voice tinged with a wisdom beyond her years, "it's okay to be afraid sometimes. My aunt says that's how we know something really matters to us."

A lump formed in your throat at her words as you blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, moved by Erynwen's innocent yet profound wisdom. You gently cupped her cheek, offering a watery smile. "Your aunt is a wise woman," you murmured.

Erynwen beamed up at you, leaning into your touch. "I just want you to be happy, Thilwen. You and the baby. And Lord Annatar too."

Your heart clenched at the mention of your husband. If only it were that simple—to ensure happiness for all of you. But life was rarely so straightforward, especially when it came to Annatar and the complex tapestry of your shared history.

"I want that too, little one," you said softly. "More than anything."

Erynwen studied your face for a moment, her young features etched with a thoughtfulness beyond her years. "Sometimes the things we want most are the scariest to reach for," she said quietly. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

Her words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with a truth you had long known but struggled to embrace. How many times had you allowed fear to hold you back, to keep you from fully surrendering to the love you shared with Annatar? Even now, with the miracle of new life growing inside you, doubt still shadowed the edges of your joy.

You drew in a deep breath, letting Erynwen's wisdom settle over you like a balm. "You're right," you murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Fear is a heavy burden to carry.”

Erynwen's face lit up with a radiant smile. "Yes,”

You couldn't help but return her smile, marveling at the purity and wisdom of her young heart.

Erynwen nodded sagely, her expression so earnest it made your heart swell. She settled back against you, resting her head on your chest once more as you both gazed out over the sun-dappled riverbank. For a while, you simply sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the gentle whisper of the breeze and the distant trilling of birdsong.

As you held Erynwen close, her words of wisdom echoing in your mind, a sense of calm determination settled over you. Love had always been the most powerful force of all, and it was time you trusted in the strength of the bond you shared with Annatar. The fear of what the future may hold had haunted you for too long, casting shadows over the joy and wonder of the new life growing within you. But no more.

You would not let the ghosts of possible futures rob you of the happiness of the present. Annatar deserved to know the truth, to share in this miracle with you. And together, fortified by your love, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead. United as one, just as you had always been meant to be.

You stood on the balcony, gazing out over the starlit expanse beyond Eregion. The crisp night air was a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside. The gathering had grown overwhelming—too many eyes, too many whispers. They all thought they were discreet, but you could feel their curiosity, their speculation.

You had not yet found the strength to tell him the truth, and in your avoidance, you had begun evading his presence altogether. Even in the same halls, you had ensured that your paths did not cross, retreating into your work or your chambers whenever he entered a room. Not even allowing him to lie with you anymore.

But he noticed.

Of course, he did.

And yet, he did not push.

For all his persistence in other matters, he had given you space. He had honored your silence, though you knew it was not without effort. He remained close, always lingering just at the edge of your awareness, watching, waiting—never pressing, but never straying far.

So it was no surprise when you felt his presence behind you now.

"Needing some air?" he asked softly as he stepped beside you, his voice gentle, careful.

You turned to him, forcing a pleasant smile, though you did not answer his question.

His icy gaze studied you in the dim light, flickering with something unreadable. "Mori," he breathed, his concern slipping through the carefully controlled cadence of his voice. "Is it something I said that night—"

You shook your head immediately, cutting him off before he could finish.

"No," you said quickly, but the way his face twisted in suspicion told you he did not believe you.

He knew. He always knew.

He could sense when you were hiding something, could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing between you. And now, as he studied you, his icy eyes darkened with quiet resolve.

You knew he would not let this go. Not this time.

Not until you told him the truth.

Annatar stepped closer, his hand rising to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, familiar—a tether in the storm of your thoughts. For a moment, you leaned into it, craving the comfort only he could provide. But then, the fear came rushing back—cold and sharp, curling around your heart like an iron vice.

You pulled away.

"Mori, please," he murmured, his voice low, tinged with something rare—desperation. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. The words were there, lodged in your throat, desperate to be spoken. But how could you tell him? How could you burden him with this knowledge, with this responsibility, when the shadows of your vision still lingered at the edges of your mind?

And yet—when you met his gaze, saw the love and concern shining in those icy depths, you knew.

He deserved to know.

He had the right to share in this moment, to experience the joy and wonder of this new life growing within you. This was not just yours to carry.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you reached for his hand, your fingers twining with his.

"Mairon," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "There's something I need to tell you."

His fingers tightened around yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

"Whatever it is, divine, I'm here. Always."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling at the depth of his devotion. Drawing strength from his touch, from the unwavering love in his gaze, you found the courage to speak the words that would change everything.

"I'm with child," you whispered, the words hanging between you, heavy with meaning.

For a long moment, Annatar was silent. His expression was unreadable, though you felt the slight tightening of his fingers around yours, heard the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath.

Then, slowly—as if realization was unfurling within him in waves—his eyes widened. Shock. Wonder. And something deeper—fear, perhaps—flickered across his features.

His free hand drifted toward your stomach, hovering just above the fabric of your gown, not quite touching.

"You're certain?" he breathed, his voice barely audible above the distant hum of the gathering inside.

You nodded, a watery smile touching your lips despite the anxiety still curling in your chest. "Yes. I've felt the stirrings of new life for a few weeks now."

Annatar exhaled slowly, his eyes closing briefly as he absorbed the magnitude of your revelation. When he opened them again, they shone with something raw, something unguarded. Love. Awe. And the barest flicker of uncertainty.

"A child," he murmured, almost to himself, as if testing the weight of the words on his tongue. 

His hand finally settled over your stomach, his touch gentle, reverent. You placed your own hand over his, your heart fluttering at the intimate contact. For a moment, everything else faded away—the distant chatter of the gathering, the cool night breeze, even the fear that had plagued you for weeks.

There was only this.

The warmth of his touch. The love shining in his eyes. The miracle of new life blossoming within you.

Without another word, Annatar pulled you into his embrace, his arms encircling you, his face burying into the crook of your neck. You could feel it—the rapid, uneven rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, betraying the depth of his emotion.

He held you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

"Mori," he whispered, his voice thick with feeling. "This is… I never thought—"

He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

You understood.

The idea of creating life, bringing a child into the world—one who was part of both of you—was overwhelming in its magnitude. It was a responsibility, a blessing, and a vulnerability all at once.

Gently, Annatar pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. His eyes searched yours, filled with a tenderness so deep it made your breath catch.

"Mori," he breathed again, his hands trembling slightly as they held you.

His gaze, filled with wonder and reverence, washed away the last remnants of your fear.

This was right. This was how it was meant to be.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was at once tender and consuming, fierce and full of devotion. He poured everything into it—his love, his devotion, the quiet awe that radiated from him in waves.

And you melted into him, your hands slipping into his golden hair, holding him close. For this moment, there was no past, no future. Only now. Only him.

When you finally parted, breathless and flushed, Annatar rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he whispered fervently. "Both of you. More than anything in this world or beyond."

Tears of joy trickled down your cheeks as you smiled up at him, your heart so full it felt fit to burst.

"And we love you, Mairon. Always and forever."

A quiet chuckle left him—almost disbelieving—before he slowly knelt before you.

His hands settled over your still-flat stomach, awe flickering in his gaze.

"Don’t worry," he murmured, sensing your hesitation. "We will appear as if we are merely speaking."

You glanced toward the gathering beyond the balcony, ensuring no one was watching, before looking back down at him.

Reverently, almost as if in silent worship, Annatar caressed your stomach, his hands warm against you. "My sweet child," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with tenderness. "You will be as radiant as your mother, and I will love you with all my being, just as I do with her."

Your heart swelled at the sight before you—this powerful being, the one whom others feared, kneeling in devotion before the life you had created together.

Your fingers combed through his golden hair, marveling at the strength of your bond, the depth of this love.

Slowly, Annatar pressed a gentle kiss just below your navel before rising to his feet.

He gathered you into his arms again, holding you as though you were the most precious treasure in all of Arda.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You nestled closer, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"No, my love," you murmured, "thank you—for giving us what I have always desired for us to share in."

Annatar tightened his hold around you, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his love chase away the last remnants of fear.

The future was uncertain. But in this moment, you knew—together, you would face whatever came.

For a long while, you simply stood there, entwined in each other’s embrace, the world beyond fading into insignificance.

Until—

A quiet throat cleared behind you.

You both turned just as Celebrimbor stepped into view.

Before the illusion fell away, you and Annatar slowly, reluctantly, separated.

“I hope I am not interrupting,” Celebrimbor said quietly, his voice careful, measured.

You shook your head, gathering the folds of your gown as you took a step away from Annatar, placing distance between you before the illusion of normalcy could break.

"No, not at all," you replied smoothly, forcing a composed smile. "I was just about to rejoin the gathering."

You stepped past Celebrimbor, pausing only briefly before glancing back at your husband.

Annatar stood where you had left him, his golden gaze steady upon you. A small, knowing smile graced his lips—a silent promise, an unspoken bond only the two of you shared.

And in his eyes, that glint of something more.

The love you now bore together, for the tiny life growing within you.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, a quiet joy that only he could truly understand.

With the slightest inclination of his head, Annatar acknowledged you—not as the godly being he was, but as a man who loved you, who had just learned he would soon love another.

And with that, you turned back toward the gathering, slipping once more into the world that did not yet know the truth of the miracle that now lived within you.

[kreemkreem]

Hi! I want to participate in the future spouse mood board reading if it's still open!!☺️💗 My dk planet is Scorpio Sun in 11H, and my 7H has cancer sign and Jupiter exalted in it!!! Thank you soo much in advance❤️🌟🙏🏻

So your future spouse natural born leader . He has a prominent Leo in his chart. After marriage your social status will be very high. Your life will be completely different from now. Yes social circle will be very big. Your spouse is authority figure. He has a highest status. You may meet your spouse while travelling or working. Jupiter is in your seventh house in the exalted sign of cancer. Your spouse is very passionate. He loves you very much. He is the type of guy who will clean you after intimacy. He will teach you many things. But remember he also does justice. Sun and moon will be very permanent in his chart. He want to have child with you.

Give me a feedback please 🥺

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart my VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict Joel x Reader story snippet (preview) ❤️‍🔥

Hey!! You guys voted on which WIP you wanted a snippet from and you voted for this one: Violent Heart my VERY DARK no apocalypse slowburn Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict!Joel x Reader fic!! (Who likes the header I made???? thoughts??? thots???)

Part 1 of the story snippet // Part 2 of the story snippet // header/mood board with original image credits (please read all warnings for each part!)

Context for this snippet: Joel is Y/N's new stepfather and they're sitting on the couch talking. Y/N is a child (about 8).

WARNINGS: afab!you, mention of sarah dying, cancer mention, joel tears, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, please use your best judgement and take care of yourself!!

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold. 

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter. Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now. 

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life? 

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry. 

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.  

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists. 

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back...

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down. 

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs. 

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist. 

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t. 

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell. 

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

[klausysworld]

hey honey can you make headcanons about dating joseph morgan😍

@klaustopia love u and your mood boards ^^

Dating Joseph Morgan:

Joseph is a kind loving person, he wants you to know how much he loves you all of the time.

This is often shown from him spending as much time with you as possible. He helps you cook and clean, always trying to be helpful to you.

He'll ask you to help him learn his lines (if you're an actor too then he's even more eager)

He wants you to feel part his life even when he's pretending to be someone else. You get to come with him and watch him shoot scenes, if he has to kiss anybody else on set then he’s sure to make it up to you.

You don’t get mad at him for having to kiss other people, it’s part of the job after all but often he’ll feel bad about it and will be sure to make love to you later that day, showing you that he’s yours no matter what.

He also makes sure to take you on dates as much as possible. You have to travel around quite a bit for his job and so he makes sure you get the full experience of each place you visit.

He loves to bring you to the beaches, his arm round your waist as you stand before the sea, the sun low in the sky as you watch it disappear.

You have a collection of bikinis though he insists you buy a new one each time. He’ll go as far to buy shorts that consist of the same colour to see you smile at his coordination

Being a star in his own show comes with a large pay check and he loves to spend it on you, even if you tell him to keep it for himself he always gets you something to say thank you for always being with him.

He knows that with a fan base also comes with hate and unfortunately you may become a victim of it, he always feels awful even if you aren’t bothered. You love him unconditionally and toxic fans won’t stop that.

He’ll post you both together on his socials from time to time to make sure people know he’s still very much in love and he coaxes you to sit with him on his lives to show you off

Joseph knows how much you love his hair and will grow his curls out for you to play with. It becomes common for you to cut his hair instead of a professional, he prefers you to do it how you like it.

We also know Joseph is a dog person, your puppy dog is now your child. You both adore your pets and treat them like your babies.

Speaking of babies…

Jospeh is very happy to have kids with you if that’s something you want. He loves the idea of you being a mother, to have a baby that you created together.

If you don’t want kids thats fine too, he’s happy with you and he doesn’t need more, he’s content knowing that theres no worry of the child having to be hidden from cameras and fans.

He always has to keep you close to make sure he knows your safe and not being harassed. He loves when he meets fans who also adore you, glad that there are good people put there who are happy for him regardless.

You get to know that other cast members and you all go out from time to time for meals and such

Joseph loves to splash his cash and take you out on an expensive dinner every now and then to make sure the romance never dies.

He’s definitely someone who would cover the bedroom in candles, rose petals on the bed and he’s led across it with a a rose in his mouth making you giggle before joining him for a long, pleasurable night.

He’s a PDA guy and I don’t want to be convinced otherwise. He always wants to hold your hand or have him arm around your waist, kisses to your face and long hugs when he has to leave for a few hours.

Living with him is a dream and he never fails to keep your spirits up. On the days you are a little down and tired of the world he’s always there to hold you, he’s your biggest supporter and loves you to the ends of the earth

[tookishcombeferre]

Pip Rambles: Writing Influences

So, a recent comment on "In the Flares" prompted me to share a little bit more of a general writing pro-tip that have for writing in general.

Whenever I go into writing something, fan fic or otherwise, I generally have a whole list of characters/ other stories that I'm using as base inspiration for a character.

If you wanted to know where I got the inspiration or "mood board" for Cedric in "In the Flares of the Sun" here are a couple of my sources (none of these are in a particular order):

Runil from Elder Scrolls: Skyrim - this was super random. But, the idea for a Restoration mage with a checkered past and list of regrets sort of came from here. He can be encountered in Falkreath. He appears for all of like 2.2 seconds. But, he's one of my favorite characters in the game. He was once a battle mage who basically destroyed cities and tortured people. Now? He's a super sweet priest of the Restoration god Arkay who gives funerals and attends a grave yard with his assistant. Love him. Sweet little old elf man deserves to just forgive himself and live in peace.

Dr. Van Helsing from Bram Stoker's Dracula - This man drank his respect women juice and is just like simultaneously kind, intelligent, and incredibly strong in the scrappiest way possible.

Telemachus from The Odyssey - particularly this is what, I felt, Cedric longed for his relationship with Goodwyn *to be* he has been quite literally stuck in the waiting period for his dad his whole life. Yet, he has an incredibly profound relationship with his mother. So, in this way, this was a huge influence on Cedric's relationship with his parents as I began drafting. Also, on the flip side ...

Odysseus from The Odyssey - in a certain way, Cedric is the dad Sofia was waiting to have come home from the shipwreck. He's gone through the Underworld and back, and though changed, there is literally nothing he wouldn't destroy to save her. Odysseus is MESSED UP after his whole adventure getting back home, but there's still a lot of love in him. So, the undertones here made sense to me. The boat vibes were also strong after what I discovered in the finale. (Cedric will actually end up recounting this myth to Miranda at some point in the fic, and yes I plan for it to be as amazingly friendship! as that sounds.)

Carl Fredricksen from "Up" - I have a favorite "type" of character. It is called "grumpy old man who just wants to be left alone is redeemed by tiny child." That favorite archetype began when I read Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" at 6, it has not changed.

Dr. Jekyll from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - I love elements of just about every adaptation of this story. I'm quite fond of the question of "what if those two got to integrate as opposed to forever be stuck separated." I thought DotS was an interesting way to answer that question given the way Cedric's personality changed throughout the series. Thus ... this.

Loki from mythology and Marvel - What can I say, I love both. I'm a huge sucker for the Loki of mythology who watches his giant wolf son get pummeled by the gods and decides vengeance is the answer because promises were broken. I also really like the whole "God of Stories" thing from the end of the recent TV series, and I felt like that vibed. You *might* actually see some of my love of Norse mythology, specifically Loki, show up somewhere else in the fic ... no promises ;)

Faramir from Lord of the Rings - LOOK ME IN THE FACE AND TELL ME THEY DON'T SHARE VIBES! The entire relationship Cedric has with Cordelia and his dad is just gives Boromir, Denethor, Faramir vibes! I can't unsee it!

Gandalf from Lord of the Rings - As mentors? ... they share vibes ... just ... they have vibes. Those vibes are shared. Incredibly loving, to the point of almost being overly indulgent, but they're also super grumpy and gruff. Externally gruff but secretly giant pushovers is their shared vibe. Like, come on, we all know Gandalf adores Pippin, but he can't SHOW that. Until he does. But, yeah, Cedric gives me the vibes of someone who would go from saying "Fool of a Took" to also "End? No the journey does not end here. Death is just another path, one we all must take." Cedric seems like he is, in fact, both of those people ... and so is Gandalf. And, I love that about them. (Side bar: That second quote was HUGELY influential on "In the Flares" as a whole.)

Elphaba from Wicked - specifically when thinking of Roland as Glinda, and how an extended edition of "For Good" would look.

There are probably others, and maybe even some more important ones, but these are the ones I remember right now.

However, when I write novels, I usually have a list (external or internal) for my OCs that are just like this one.

Occasionally, I find out there were a few more sneaky layers even I didn't catch until well into the writing process that I can either play up or play down to my liking as I go.

So, you can control whether or not those things end up being obvious or not. Like, I'll occasionally chuck things into my writing that I think will make folks chuckle if they're interested in the same sorts of myths or pop culture stuff I'm into. (Rick Riordan is famous for stuff like that.)

Sometimes, the influences I have will show up in the naming conventions I use for the characters, and other times they don't. It really depends on what I'm doing, the setting I'm creating, how influential the central pieces of "literature" are on the piece, etc.

(One of the books I'm writing right now has a subplot that necessitates the use of focusing on the characters choosing names from classic novels ... for reasons ...)

Sometimes, if I can, I'll put musical influences together as well so I can sort of "hear" the setting.

Often, I sketch stuff out. Particularly, I draw out sort of fashion designs for the characters so that I can see how characters would move in space given what kind of clothes they're wearing. (How mobile are they? What has the potential to snag? Etc.)

Sometimes I don't do that, but I often do most of that stuff for long form stuff like novels and novellas.

But, I almost always, no matter the length of the work, when pressed, can give you at least a handful of 10-20 characters that inspired each of the "Main Characters" (10-15 in long form; 2-3 in short form.)

Authors are always recycling stuff. Sometimes it's a trope. Sometimes it's literally just something as simple as "I think these two characters would get on if they had coffee together."

But, if you're in the business of writing original stories or characters, I can tell you making lists like this is immensely helpful.

What other characters would they get on with if they had coffee together? Who do they share vibes with? Are there different vibes based on different relationships (like the Telemachus vs. Odysseus thing)? Is there a particular character or two that help focus a particular scene? How does that influence the way you write them? Does the vibe change as the character changes?

This is why when they first teach you creative writing they tell you to read an excerpt and then try to write something of your own in the exact same style. Now, when I go to write my own stuff, I'm constantly aware of the little influences I've magpied over the years. But, I'm also well established enough in my own writing that I still sound "like me" around all my weird influences (ah Victorian era sci-fi and JRRT, my beloveds.)

So, anyway, not sure if anyone will read this and find it interesting. But, I hope somebody finds it helpful or, at the very least, fun.

Cheers,

Pip :D

[angelofrainfrogs]

Going Back: Ch. 15

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn. 

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once. 

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Just over an hour later, Michael decided it was time to gather his security bot friend and head back to the hotel before his actual job began. A few staff members had already left as the evening light waned, Michael offering those that remained a wave as he walked to the Daycare. Along the way he pulled out his walkie and tuned it into Sammy's.

“Hey, Sam? Just fyi, I'm taking Mari to see her sister—we'll all be back for night shift and then you can introduce me to you-know-who.” He chose his words carefully, unsure of who might pick up on the frequency or be in the room with Sam when he got the message. This was the quickest way to reach him though, as Michael had no idea when Sam would get a chance to breathe, let alone check his cell.

Static feedback filled in the short gap of silence before Sam’s cheerful tone answered. “Okay! She should still be in the Daycare. I'll see you all soon.”

Mari had promised Sun and Ennard that she would stay for the afternoon and play the game that Sophie dropped off on her way out, snagged from the employee break room—no one ever had enough free time to play it anyway, so she felt no harm in taking it. It was something called Monopoly, but one thing led to another and Ennard had angrily torn up all the paper money in retaliation. When Sun began to stress over the messy paper litter, Mari offered to help clean. Though to her it sort of looked like confetti pieces, and she soon started throwing handfuls of money over the three of them.

“What the hell have you guys been up to?!” Mike asked as he saw the state of the play area. Clearly they'd been playing a board game, though part of it was in tattered pieces that Sun was frantically trying to clean up while his friends danced around in the rainbow paper rain.

“Oh! Michael, language please!” Sun gently chided, pausing his action of scooping a handful of play money off the floor to wag a finger at him.

Michael rolled his eyes, though he offered a mumbled “sorry” as he shut the door behind him. Mari might look like a child, but she was older than both of her new friends. Speaking of the little bot, Mike waved her over with a smile, pointedly ignoring Ennard as he did so—he didn't doubt the amalgamation would be bounding over to his side in a matter of seconds, so the less time he could acknowledge their existence the better.

“Mari!” he called cheerfully. “I've got a question for you!”

“Mikey!” the Marionette gleefully chirped back, waving her hands above her head as Ennard slunk behind Michael in slow pursuit. “I have an answer!”

Mari wasn't shy either, coming up and helping herself to hugging Mike’s leg unabashed before attempting to clamber up him as she did in her old form. Though this model had real weight to it now, and found it hard to seat herself on his arm or over his shoulders.

Ennard came then to stand directly behind Michael, a little jealous of how close Mari was to their best friend—both in a figurative sense and literal. It wasn't long before they were watching him bend to pick Mari up, and given Ennard's recent mood they were surprised to not immediately turn green with envy.

“For fucks' sake, what got you so riled up?” Michael said in a hushed voice, turning around to face the amalgamation. To his relief Sun was now thoroughly engrossed in cleaning up the remnants of their game, so he wasn't able to snap at him again for his choice words.

“And you—chill out!” Michael added a bit louder, almost wrestling with Mari as she insisted on scaling him like a jungle gym. They managed to settle for her latched on piggy-back style, her arms wrapped around his neck while her legs cinched his torso. He held these for extra support, though by the tightness she squeezed him with Michael had no doubt of Mari's ability to keep herself from falling off.

Mike stared up at Ennard, the unnerved feeling he always got around them amped up more than usual. He'd thought he was getting more used to the creature, but somehow Michael could just sense their annoyance as they stared down at him and Mari. Ennard was going to be pissed if they knew Michael planned to take Mari away without asking them to come along...

“Uh... hey,” Michael said, narrowing his eyes at the amalgamation. Worried that a tendril would snake around his leg and pull him down at the most inopportune time, Michael decided to bite the bullet and offer Ennard a stiff hand.

To an outside observer it looked like the guard was thrusting out an arm to make a business deal, and Sun couldn't help but giggle quietly to himself as he observed from afar. It might not mean much to Michael, but Sun knew Ennard would be thrilled that his “bestie” initiated physical contact, no matter how minute it was.

It didn’t take long for a very dainty tendril to rise until it could wrap around the proffered hand. There was a slight shaking maneuver as Ennard tilted their head to the side curiously.

“WE HAVEN'T SPOKEN LATELY... MONOPOLY... MADE US... ANGRY,” Ennard explained, holding onto Mike just a slight longer before deciding not to push it today and let their favorite boy go.

“I took all their railroads and they're angry they don't know how to play!” Mari giggled, poking gentle fun at Ennard. Their pneumatic sigh filled the empty air of the Daycare as they gave up their attitude in a heap.

“I HAVE GOTTEN RID OF THE MONEY... NO MORE MONEY FOR MARI...,” they replied, only fueling Mari's giggles. 

“What's your question anyway, Mikey?” asked the somewhat hyper girl, gently tugging the shirt fabric draping Mike's shoulder to gain his attention.

“Huh? Oh, right.” In trying to process the pair's explanation, Michael momentarily forgot why he'd come here in the first place. Glancing over his shoulder, he asked Mari: “I came to find out if you'd... like to play a round of golf with me and Sam!”

The lie wasn't too bad—certainly plausible, especially as Michael added on: “Your 'dad' needs to take a break from reading documents and tinkering with animatronics. We can shove some water down his throat while we're at it, because I just know that man's had another pot of coffee since you talked to him last... What do you think?”

He just needed to get Mari out of the Daycare so he could tell her the real reason he stopped by without Ennard breathing down his neck in the most literal sense...

“Ooh, that sounds exciting!” Sun chimed in, finally finished cleaning up the mess and striding over to them on his gangly legs. He clasped his hands together, jingling as usual. “You should go, Mari—we can always play more tonight!”

“And before you ask, no you can't come Ennard,” Michael quickly added, looking back up at the clown-masked wires sternly. “Dayshift staff is still around patrolling the whole building.”

Ennard sort of melted further towards the floor, a bit deflated that Michael was on their case so early tonight.

“WE... WILL VISIT DOWNSTAIRS... AFTER WE HELP SUN CLEAN...,” Ennard said as if to put Mike's mind at ease on where he was going to be all night. “WE STILL ONLY USE... VENTS... WHEN NECESSARY....”

“Oooh! I always wanted to play golf! How do you play? Can I swim in the water? I heard there’s lakes in the golf course,” Mari replied a bit chaotically. This place had a lot more stimuli than the older locations, though certainly Mari would let them know should she become overwhelmed. She rested her head on Michael's shoulder, pretty jazzed that Sam wanted to hang out as she waved goodbye to her friends. “I'll be back later, you guys! Goodnight for now!”

“See you later!” Sun exclaimed, already slipping his arms under the semblance of Ennard's shoulders to help his friend back on their feet. As Michael and Mari traveled towards the Daycare exit, the attendant's voice could be heard growing fainter. “Silly! How are we supposed to clean if you're all over the floor like that? Do you want me to get a broom and sweep you up, too?!”

“My god, Sun is an absolute saint...,” Michael muttered, shaking his head as they passed through the garage doors. Although, thinking on it further he supposed the pair's personalities both synced up and acted in a strange dichotomy that just made their friendship work somehow.

When he and Mari reached the entrance lobby, Michael made his true intentions known. Instead of turning for the elevator that'd lead them to the golf course, he veered left towards the front doors. “So I have to admit—I told a little fib back there. We're not going to play golf right now... I'm busting you out and taking you to the hotel to meet up with Charlie and the others. I know it's sudden so it's completely fine if you're not ready but I figured you might want a chance to go outside now that you have a fancy new body. How about it?”

Mari gasped. She hadn't been outside in so long, it was just the thing she needed. Somehow until this point, she hadn't even considered leaving with her newly enhanced form. The possibilities were endless now that she was traveling with her friend Michael. Hugging her arms tightly around him, Mari practically spurred him on with her calves as they begun to leave the lobby.

“Oh my goodness! Really?! Mikey, you're too nice to me,” she exclaimed unintentionally betraying strong emotions for the nice gesture. “I can't wait to see everyone at the hotel! Is it nice there? How is everyone settling in? Gregory told me something about a pool—can we see that?”

“Wow; yes, good, and maybe,” Michael laughed, holding her legs tighter to keep her from wriggling.

The Marionette had always been clingy and a bit excitable, though in the early days that'd been reserved mostly for Charlie. After their decades-long bonding and subsequent separation those tendencies were enhanced greatly, but it still entertained Mike to see just how excited the security bot could get. She honestly did seem like a little kid experiencing the world for the first time, and it was very sweet.

After a few blocks of walking and near-constant chatter—mostly from Mari, since Mike barely got a word in edgewise as she rambled about everything she saw—the pair finally reached the hotel. One elevator ride later and they stepped up to the door to room 717. He rapped on the wood in a special code he and Gregory developed to signal his arrival.

“Hey guys! I'm back, and I have a surpriiiiiiise!” Michael called, finally setting Mari down so she could latch onto the first person to cross her path.

Puppet had never been in such a placid place before. The diner and the Pizzaplex were hectic even without children there; the sudden under-stimulation eventually left Mari speechless. She wondered how Mike stood the lack of fun patterns and lights. No music playing either... It’d stopped past the lobby. Behind the door, there were rapid, tiny footfalls that drew closer with every second.

“Is it pizza?!” Gregory shouted through the door. After throwing it open he had no time to react before Mari unceremoniously tacked him. The boy fell to the floor with a tremendous grunt.

“No pizza! I'm better than pizza!” the little bot laughed, hugging her friend with a powerful squeeze.

“MARI!” Gregory gasped, arms locking around her and strong enough to roll her off of him. “Don't scare me like that, dude!”

Charlie, who’d been cleaning up locks of stray hair in the bathroom, completely abandoned her responsibility when she heard the familiar voice.

“Mike! Does Sam know she's here?” she asked, both happy and worried that her robotic other half was actually out and about for the first time in forever.

“Of course he knows!” Michael exclaimed, scoffing in mock offense. “I’m not that irresponsible.”

“Hello, you two,” Freddy greeted warmly, coming out of the bathroom where he’d been helping Charlie clean up the insane mess she made of the countertop and floor… and every other visible surface. He chuckled when Mari latched onto his leg, bending down to wrap his arms around her as best he could. “How was your walk over here? It looks like a beautiful day outside!”

Meanwhile, Michael had helped Gregory to his feet and was examining his new hairstyle like a jewelry appraiser trying to see if a diamond was real. Hands on his hips with one set of fingers tapping on his tool belt, he walked around the boy in a slow circle with squinted eyes.

“Hmm… Charlie, I appreciate the attempt, but the kid doesn’t have nearly enough hairspray in there,” he said eventually, then gave a resolute nod. “Look, you want to go for the 80s rock star aesthetic, you’ve got to commit. Come on—let me work some magic.”

He ushered Gregory back into the half-tidied bathroom, already searching for the barely touched can of hairspray. Michael had styled his hair in more ways than he could count as a teen, and he was happy to have the unexpected chance to work with someone else’s after so long.

Gregory had no choice in the matter. Michael pulled him in and expertly groomed the somewhat limp mess on his head. Despite the considerable amount that Charlie lobbed off, the weight was replaced with how much product sat on his scalp. Gregory coughed a few times with the artificial scent in the air. When the misty mango hairspray dispersed and Mike stepped out from the view of the mirror, Gregory finally got to see the results. He thought he looked—

“Badass…,” he said, completely forgetting his father, who’d gone back to meticulously picking stray hairs around the bathroom. Gregory touched the teased ends gently, wondering exactly how Mike got his hair to stand up in such a way.

“Language, Gregory,” Freddy chided gently, though he couldn’t help but hum in appreciation for the work. “You could give Roxy some competition, Michael!”

“Thanks!” the android laughed, reaching for the sink to wash the caked-on hairspray off his palms. The sticky hands were nostalgic, but something better reminisced on through memory alone. He flashed Gregory a grin in the mirror, proud of what he’d managed to accomplish in record time. “You can thank what probably equaled decades in the bathroom styling my own hair as a kid for that. Man, Lizzie would get so mad…”

Michael snickered at the memories of her beating on the door aggressively for him to let her in. Sometimes she’d get Evan involved, though he didn’t care nearly as much as she did and more so joined in her attempts to pry the bathroom door off its hinges simply to stop his siblings from fighting. All it took for Mike to make it up to Lizzie was taking her out for an ice cream.

Gregory was enamored with the new style. When Charlie had messed up his hair and cut the front short as her natural go-to, she went for the sides of his hair as well. The ends in the back stuck out in jagged spikes that left Gregory feeling tough... He always already a little rebel, but Michael and Charlie may have accidentally kick-started something in him.

“Can you help me do my hair like this every day? You know, until I learn how to do it on my own?” Gregory asked, meeting Michael and Freddy's reflection in the mirror. He wondered how his friends were going to like it. He knew that Liz, Evan and even Cassidy would appreciate the ode to their youth. Most importantly, if Hannah didn't like his hair he might just shave the rest of it off in despair... Or, he'd find a way to get over it. 

Still—he tried not to think of it negatively. Of course his friends were going to rip on him either way. After all, that's what he was starting to learn that true friendship involved: the ability to be just as annoying with each other as affectionate.

“When do you guys start your shifts? We're all going to play manhunt in the basement today,” Gregory said, like these plans were very important to the integrity of their group. Michael pulled out his phone to check the clock.

“Technically I don’t start for another five hours, but I told Sam I’d stop by his office beforehand. You guys aren’t going to believe what he’s refurbishing right now…” He shrugged, mouth quirked up in a smirk. “But I’ve been running around all day, so I’ve got some time to chill here. Plus, we’ve got to show Mari what life is like outside the walls of Fazbear Entertainment!”

“Yes Mari, you must come in and see the rest of the suite!” Freddy remarked, having cleaned up all he could in the bathroom and gone out to join the girls in the hallway. He offered a hand to the security bot, urging her further into their temporary dwelling with a bright smile. “It is astounding they can fit so much in such a space!”

In the hall, Mari wiggled loose from Charlie's death grip to follow the demure sound of Freddy's voice. She jumped into the kitchenette area, her tiny legs splayed shoulder with apart as she took in her very surroundings. She happily noted that Gregory didn't yet take off his little green bracelet—a high-priority color that demanded her attention. With it, she could locate them whenever...

Just in case.

“This is where you live?!” Mari asked incredulously. The place was immaculate, even if it was painted in a stark white with touristy, floral accents. “This is kinda rad! Where’s the ice cream machine?”

“There is no ice cream machine, but we can call downstairs and ask them to bring some up whenever we would like!” Freddy explained, clear excitement in his tone. Was this was he looked like the first time he’d left the Pizzaplex, wide-eyed and awestruck?

Another surprise. Gregory seemed giddy now, as it could mean anything from new attractions to new foods. It was Gregory's best hope that Sam would let him play test any new game or ride that he thought of opening to the public. The kid seemed to vibrate with pent up energy that was screaming to be released.

“Something new? Is it a secret?” Gregory asked, tugging on Michael's work shirt as he passed to replace the can of hairspray on the bathroom counter.

“It’s not a secret from us,” Michael was telling his little brother with a grin, walking out of the bathroom to rejoin his friends. “Sam’s adding Glamrock Foxy to the lineup!”

“What?!” Freddy whipped his head around, in the process of lifting Mari up so she could see over the high countertops. He quickly set her down in favor of pressing a hand to his chest, looking at Michael with a hopeful gaze. “Foxy is coming back?”

“You bet.” Slouching casually against the wall, Michael shrugged. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you all tag along to see him, too.”

“Oh this is just wonderful!” Freddy’s eyes crinkled with happiness. First he got Bonnie back, and now Foxy as well?! Sam was certainly outdoing himself. “Do the other animatronics know?”

“Nope; we get the first look,” Michael replied. “So if you do run into someone on our way in, keep your mouth shut.” He raised an eyebrow at Charlie and her little lookalike, the most likely culprits to spill the beans.

Gregory never had the privilege of growing up around Kid's Cove with Foxy's story times and intermittent songs sprinkled throughout the day. Meeting him would be like meeting a legend that people only spoke highly of. Clearly Sam loved the classics, romanticizing the best parts of their shared childhoods. Maybe even wanting to relive the old times that were snatched away swiftly by tragedy.

Gregory was only shaken from this line of thought by Mari, who asked him: “This is so exciting! Do you know Foxy?” She shook her head, face scrunched. “No, he wouldn't know Foxy—Mikey, your robot is going to be back!”

She wondered if by odd supernatural magic, Foxy would remember Michael.

“Did you guys miss him? I missed Foxy...” Mari sounded almost melancholic for a second before the feeling passed like a ship in the night. Charlie came over, content to snatch the rambling puppet from off of the poor overwhelmed boy and shook her.

“Yes! We all missed him—but we should go and play before we see him. You are so wired right now!” Charlie then looked to Freddy and Michael for suggestions on what to do.

The boys glanced at each other, then in unison responded: “The arcade.”

While the hotel was a great place to stay, it’s amenities as far as fun things to do were limited. That’s what the Pizzaplex just down the street was for, after all! Even so, while the hotel’s arcade would never compare to the massive neon arenas of the mall, it served as good entertainment for a few hours.

“One of these days we’ve got to go to the pool,” Michael remarked, patting down his pockets to make sure his room and security keys were still there. “Though we need bathing suits first…” He frowned, looking at Freddy’s still unchanged outfit. “Actually, I think we just need to go clothes shopping in general…”

“That can definitely be arranged,” Freddy readily agreed. While he was certainly content staying in their fancy suite when not visiting friends in the Pizzaplex, the former bear was excited for the opportunity to explore somewhere new. With a questioning tilt of his head, he posed a suggestion. “Perhaps we can visit one of those Targets I have heard so many guests speak of?”

“Oh my god,” Michael laughed, clapping Freddy on the back. Sometimes it was easy to forget the guy was really just a robot at his core with limited knowledge of the outside world. “Yes, we can go to Target—we’ll take Mari, too.”

Looking at the wriggling girl, Michael vaguely wondered if they might want to invest in one of those animal backpacks with the long leash-tails so they wouldn’t lose her… But he quickly realized that if anything, she’d be the one to find them if anyone wandered off. For as hyper as she seemed, Michael noticed how she never strayed too far from anyone’s side.

“Well then, to the arcade for now,” Freddy prompted, placing a gentle hand on Gregory’s back to signal it was time to go. “We can play for a bit and then order dinner right before we leave for the Pizzaplex, how does that sound?”

Gregory looked to the group. For the first time in a week, he realized how genuinely happy everyone made him... There was no faking happiness when around his family now. And at the prospect of getting new things, he was even more excited for the rest of the day.

“Arcade!” Gregory cheered. For the first time in a while, Gregory seemed truly happy. His life, while strange as ever, finally started to seem "normal" to the kid. It was funny how the only way to achieve that was to officially become a missing person.

As usual, the trip to the arcade was full of fun and laughter. How could it not be, when everyone was with those they cared for the most?

Michael of course joined in on the games, challenging Gregory to yet another bet that ultimately ended in a stand-off to be picked up next time when Freddy announced it was time to get some food. Tonight was burger night again, and Freddy even managed to get his son to agree to eat at least half a side salad if he got one of the gnarly slushees from the bowling alley later in return. It would be best not to immediately counteract the slim amount of healthy food Gregory ate with a cup of sugar and artificial flavors, but Freddy couldn’t help spoiling the boy just a little bit. It was simply his nature to make sure children were happy after all, and his own kid was top priority.

The group crowded around the dining room table while Freddy brought over the food. Setting it down, he noticed Mari staring at the selection curiously. She hadn’t spoken up about wanting anything, so Freddy had been on autopilot ordering the second they got back up to the room so it’d get there as fast as possible. But as he saw her eyes track Gregory’s burger when Freddy handed it over, the ursine man remarked:

“Mari… you have not gotten to try consuming food yet, have you?” Bright blue eyes shifted to Michael and Charlie. “I think she should be able to eat if I can—what do you think?”

“Yeah, I say go for it,” Michael said, speaking through a mouthful of food as he’d already shoved the biggest bite physically possible of his double-cheese deluxe into his mouth. “Worst case, Henry’s got to scoop out some gunk from her insides.”

Mari laughed at the weird image such a scenario brought to mind. Charlie was the one to slide her burger and fries towards her friend. “Go ahead! Mine’s got blue cheese on it.”

As if that meant something to her. Mari knew such a thing was supposed to taste good. She looked uncertain. Picking up the toasted sesame seed bun, she inspected the way all of the toppings folded over the patty. Mari tried to imagine how to eat this, but the mechanics were lost on her.

“So I bite it, then let it slide down my throat?” she said confidently, but Charlie chimed in to correct her.

“You should chew it before you swallow it. It'll get stuck otherwise.” Charlie tried to refrain from laughing at how similar Freddy and Mari were upon their first encounter with food.

Then it was even harder watching Mari's attempt. Sauces and grease ran over her fingers as she bit into the side of the sandwich. Following Charlie's instructions was easy—but then the sensation and the new concept of flavor hit her. No words, just wide eyes as she set the food back down, afraid she'll eat the whole thing in one bite. Mari tilted her head back to swallow to a minute degree and asked them all: “What was that?!”

“It's a burger—are you gonna be okay?” Gregory asked between laughs as Mari put her head down on the table. The burger must have been too good for words, because for the first time tonight, Mari was contently silent.

Michael laughed too, amused that such a simple action could seem like such a big deal. Then again, he’d never forget years of being unable to eat—and unlike the robots, he knew what the sensation was like. Now that he was able to indulge in his favorite meals, especially without worrying about the consequences of not eating healthy, Michael would never take that for granted again.

The family practically inhaled their food in an effort to get back to the Pizzaplex as fast as they could. Well, except Freddy who insisted on taking reasonable bites despite everyone’s goading to move just a little faster. When the last bit of his meal finally disappeared and he lifted his napkin to wipe the greasy remnants off his mouth, Mike and Gregory shot out of their seats like rockets to get ready. For Gregory this involved grabbing his tablet, while Michael’s task was to give his brother’s hair one last touch-up before they hit the road.

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[vastaya-simp]

Fluff time with Arcane men [Silco, Ekko, Scar]

The finals on taxation law are killing me, so the only thing I wish is to cuddle some fictional men as much as I want....

Silco - breakfast "dates"

This man is busy.

Like half if not most of the Zaun is under his attentive gaze and the only time you get him alone is more or less free - before the day actually starts. Surprisingly not peeved at all for a person who went to bed at 3 am at best. It’s also too early for Jinx or Sevica to join on the meal so usually just you two.

Despite his position, is actually quite a gentleman who pours you the drinks and passes you things that are out of your reach, while softly chatting about something. Prefers you to not talk about business - it’s too early for that so usually if you talking to him listening. If you get embarrassed or shy about rambling too much he’ll gently remind you that he enjoyed hearing your voice - a good distraction from Zaun problems.

From time to time, you find a bowl of specific type of fruits you love the most or maybe even your favourite dessert. Though if you ask him directly, he refuses to acknowledge any contribution from his part.

Scar - searching for constellations

As a chirean, Scar grew up knowing close to nothing about stars, constellations or astronomical stuff in general.

You on the other hand enjoyed star watching and knew thing or two from books your elderly relatives have showed you when you were still a child. Not forgetting and sharing a little bit of this knowledge brought you warm memories.

It all started with you spending all the free time you could master in the hospital wing - painting walls with a special glow-in-the-dark paint. Sick kids and injured firelights stuck there liked the stories you’ve told them while painting as well as the legends of different constellations you've remembered from your childhood. A few times the vastaya dropped by. And even though he argument his visits with his daughter being easier to handle when she heard you voice and stories, you hoped that he enjoyed them as well.

One evening, after you were not needed anywhere and most of the firelights got relaxed around the Sanctuary, he mentioned you to follow him and get on his board.

Any time spend with your favourite vastaya was precious to you though the last thing you’ve expected was to actually get on the roofs of the Zaun highest buildings not far from the home. Especially for stargazing.

Nevertheless, soon enough you’ve found yourself tucked into the man’s embrace from behind, covered with some blanket, he fished out of his bag with a thermos flask filled with hot tea. And after a while you were animatedly retelling the stories of the stars while the chirean basked in your closeness.

Ekko - watching the sunrise

Ekko is a busy man, as are you and the most of the Sanctuary adults. So there isn’t much time for dates, no money. Mostly it’s small hugs here and there, good luck kisses before the mission, soft touches on-the-way and cuddling each other to sleep.

Though from time to time, after the successful raid you two get on the highest rooftop near the Home-Tree to spend some time alone.

Just like now, you’ve just returned from the mission, the adrenaline is still pumping in your blood veins and it’s impossible to try sleeping right away. Others are either in their rooms licking up the scratches or chatting quietly in the roots of the tree. No losses tonight so the mood is light.

So you two climb to the top of the Tree to hide from the prying eyes and cuddle into each others sides while facing the horizon and enjoying the last rays of the setting sun as well as the bits of warmth before the night chill fills the city.

[pettyprocrastination]

Cyvasse

Summary: Oberyn enjoys a game of Cyvasse with his brother and they speak of his wife’s vacation in Essos. Robert’s ghost has joined the war of the five kings. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader (reader is not included but she is spoken of)

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: (Lore used in this fic) Takes place during the war of five kings. Oberyn and the reader have been married since the end of Robert’s rebellion. Cyvasse is the a game played in the GOT universe similar to chess. 

Tagging: @thesadvampire​ my oberyn moot and the ever lovely @pedrostories​ case I keep forgetting to im sorry asjkdkjs. 

Oberyn should have known the moment he saw the Cyvasse board set in front of his brother that something was wrong. 

“Come.” Doran’s face shows anything but a playful mood as he beckons his brother to the chair across from him. “Play a round with me, for old times sake.” “You mean get beat by you for old times sake?” Doran scoffs. “You can win, you just don’t want to put in the effort.”

It’s true. Cyvasse took far too long for Oberyn’s liking. He excelled at the game, but only when he had the patience for it-

Or the desire to beat his opponent. 

But now he has neither. One hand taps the rim of the table while the other raises over a bowl of berries set by his side the moment he sits down. Oberyn makes the first move. Sliding his heavy horse up one square, his brother watches with a smile. 

“Brash.”  Doran tells his younger sibling. 

“Decisive.” Oberyn corrects. 

They play in silence. It’s peaceful. The sun bathes them in a warm haze while birds sing in the garden. They do not rush, no royal court or council meeting urging them to do anything but enjoy the moment. 

But Oberyn knows his brother.

“Rumor has it that Stannis’ Baratheon’s army has a rather surprising ally.” Oberyn's hand pauses. Only a second long before he moves yet another piece, but Doran catches the brief panic with ease. 

“Oh?” “Yes. It is said-'' Doran's face melts into the frown that Oberyn has seen since he was a trouble-making child. One of scolding and reprimanding. “-that the ghost of Robert Baratheon has joined his brother’s side in the fight for the iron throne.” Oberyn snorts. He remembers your kingly brother. One whose last years of life were more aptly spent whoring and drinking until he couldn't sit up…and then some. He wondered if the idiot even still had the strength to swing that ridiculous hammer of his before he died. 

“Really?” 

Doran hums. “Multiple witnesses have claimed to see our deceased king in his armor by his brother’s side, war hammer and all.”

Your husband imagines you in battle. Voice raw as you let out a war cry on horseback in the midst of chaos. Body exhausted and armor slick with blood yet you fight on, rage in your eyes and teeth gritted as raise that ridiculous fucking hammer and unleash hell on the Lannister army. 

He smiles. 

“Must have been quite a sight.”

Doran moves his two spaces forward. Oberyn rolls a berry between his fingers. 

“How is your wife? Still in Essos?” 

He remembered the panic that had ensued when the palace staff awoke to find you missing. Nothing taken aside from riding clothes and food, with a letter placed upon your neatly made bed. He keeps it tucked into his robe and rereads it whenever his mind begins to wander to an unforgiving place. 

“And loving every minute.”

The letter had addressed him personally. Apologizing for such a quick decision for travel but confessed you must see the world on your own. Unencumbered by your husband or guards that would have followed. You called him “My love” and promised to write as often as you could. 

The only thing you would ever call him aside from his name was “husband” which was done in a tone of indifference on the kindest of days. 

It had been sealed with the Baratheon sigil. 

Doran had insisted on sending the guards after you and Ellaria agreed. But he had waved them both off with a casual hand that did not match the tension set into his shoulders. 

“She may be my wife but she is her own person.” He explained coolly. “Let her have her own adventures just as you have let me have mine, brother.” 

That night, Ellaria shouts at him for many things. For not comforting you more in Renly’s death, for not doting on you as a husband should, for not caring like he does as a lover. 

For letting you throw yourself into danger when she knows you are in pain. 

Tears fill his lover’s eyes as she berates him and slaps his chest. Calling him an uncaring fool. 

But he tells her that Stannis is all you have left. 

“She has lost two brothers.” He explains, after she lost her fire and lay in his arms motionless. “Who am I to stop her from trying to save the last?” 

“Then you should have comforted her, you idiot.” her voice is raw and cracked from the shouting and crying for you. The wife of the man she loved. What a funny relationship the two of you had. 

“She’s strong.” her lover promises. “She’ll come back.”

That night, they both dream of you slain in battle, crying out for your brothers as your blood flows through the cracks in your breastplate and eyes begin to go empty. 

The dreams do not stop when your next letter arrives, but seeing your handwriting brings them both a small comfort. 

“You need to bring her home, Oberyn.” “I’m not her keeper, Doran.” The younger prince shrugs.  “She is enjoying herself. As her husband it is my job to make sure she is happy.” 

“Not when her galavanting vacation puts our house in jeopardy. You need to understand-” 

“-I understand that my wife is in Lys.” Oberyn clipped. “That she has left of her own volition and will only be brought back the same way. I have no intention of forcing her to do anything.” 

Doran finally moves his king. 

“Stannis intends to take Blackwater next.”

Oberyn pinches the berry between his fingers a touch too hard and it bursts, droplets of juice run down his wrist and seep into the cuff of his robe. 

King's landing. Home of the bastard king whose family wore so much blood on their clothes it had seeped into the very thread used to embroider the golden lions they wear on their chests. 

“He does?”  

A heavy wall of defense and countless men willing to die for it to protect the corrupt lions that pace behind it. 

Most lords do not engage within the heat of battle. They fall to the back to survey their army and call out commands. Stannis was level headed and decisive, his army relied on his orders to keep them fighting. 

“Has your wife told you where she is going next?”

But Robert fought alongside them. He charged into battle with a thunderous war and his hammer held high. He was at as much risk of a vicious death as the rest of them, it’s why his men loved him so much. 

His ghost seems to be doing the same.

“Mors.” Oberyn’s voice cracked out. His brother’s eyes softened at the look of concern on your husband’s face. “She’s heading to Mors.”

“I wish her a safe journey home.” 

“As do I.”

Oberyn prayed to the gods, old and new, that the ghost would not charge into battle senselessly. 

[lovekz]

bargaining (3)

synopsis ~  they warned you. on multiple occasions. “the haitani brothers settle for no one” “nothing you can do will keep him down” “he can’t be yours when he’s everyone’s” but you never listened, did you? now here you are, going through the five stages of grief

cw: mentions of suicide and self harm, child neglect, vomiting, knife mention, asylum mention and toxic!rindou

this chapter will have some triggering topics, read at your own risk

masterlist~

you sat on your bathroom floor, spacing out. nothing on your mind at all. just sitting there, hoping your demise would finally come.

it’s been at least a month or since you figured out you were pregnant with rindou’s child again. ever since, you’d been waking up late at night to throw up in the shared bathroom you had with rindou.

you never bothered to get up afterwards, just sitting with your knees pressed up against your chest next to the tub.

usually, rindou would walk in about an hour later and pick you up to place you back into bed.

not this time though.

you only noticed he wasn’t going to get you up when the sun was fully in the sky, alerting everyone with their blinds open.

you stood up on wobbly legs and looked at yourself through the mirror.

you looked like shit.

your cheeks were starting to bloat, your eyes low with dirty eye bags under them, and bed hair.

how worse could you possibly look if you went back to sleep?

~

you woke up to harsh shaking, making you grunt and turn over. 

“leave me alone.” you muttered, swatting whoever was touching you away.

“i’m not going to. i want to know why my nephew looks so fucking thin.” you heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

your possible savior.

you looked over at ran, sitting up slowly. ran, flinching at the sight of you, backed up into the wall.

“what. the fuck. is going on here.” ran asked concerned, looking at you.

you broke into a loud sob, for the first time this morning. he took you into his arms almost immediately, shaking his head.

“i have to get rid of it.” you muttered, sobbing loudly into the older haitani’s arms.

just what had he missed when he was gone?

~

the three of you sat in a restaurant bonten owned, eating an expensive meal you knew your son wasn’t used to.

ran only brought the two of you out of the house whenever he had free time he wanted to spend with his brother’s family, as he didn’t grow one himself.

but the difference between this now, was your son had a phone and headphones in his ear, bubble guppies playing loud enough that he couldn’t hear the conversation going on with the adults.

ran held his head in his hand, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“you know you can’t get an abortion legally.” ran said quietly, looking at you.

you nodded with a sniffle, leaning back in your seat.

“but- but you aren’t legal! can’t you just, help me ran?” you asked with pleading eyes, grabbing his hand.

ran couldn’t speak. he didn’t know what to do. he said he’d do anything to help you. but this? it wasn’t anything he could do without rindou finding out.

and possibly making things worse for you and haru.

“there’s-” “fuck, honeysweet.” ran said, slamming his hand down on the table in anger. what had gone wrong with his brother?

did he lead him in the wrong direction?

“it’s too late for me to do anything. why didn’t you tell me before?” ran asked, tears of frustration building in his eyes.

you truly lost hope.

~

you stood in the kitchen, pacing up and down with a knife sitting on the cutting board. you couldn’t believe you were resorting to this.

rindou walked in with a smile, walking over to you without knowing.

“smells good. whatcha making?” rindou said, going to pull you into a hug.

it was the first time in a while you’d willingly gotten out of bed to cook, at least it was to him.

you pushed the plate towards him as he sat down at the island. he caught the plate just in time, a smile gracing his face.

you wanted to wipe it off his face. badly.

“my favorite. what’s gotten you in such a good mood?” rindou asked, starting to dig in almost immediately.

you picked up the knife, catching his attention almost immediately. you pointed it to your stomach, looking at him. 

“i’ll kill it.” you said, your voice wavering almost immediately.

rindou watched you with bored eyes, getting up and looking you up at down. the closer he got, the closer the knife pressed into your stomach.

when you punctured your skin lightly, rindou laughed. he laughed loudly. he was mocking you.

you pulled your hand back to force the knife into your skin deeper, and he gripped the knife just in time.

“you do that, and you’ll wake up in the A building.” rindou said, getting close enough to press you into the counter.

he snatched the blade from out of your hand and held the wooden end, pointing the blade towards you.

“daddy?” you heard a small voice cry out, making you flinch.

the both of you looked over to see your son, holding back his sobs.

“what are you doing up?” rindou asked, putting the knife onto the counter.

“more like what are you doing to her?” ran said, walking further into the house.

rindou looked at him with a glare. haru must’ve called ran out of fear once he seen that scene displayed to him.

“haru honey.. go back to bed.” you whispered, finally finding your voice.

~

sending haru up to his room did nothing to quiet down the anger that radiated between the siblings.

the two brother’s argued loudly, everything that happened in the past 3-4 months being brought up in the mix.

when ran brought up the fact that you and haru should stay with him, rindou got physical.

he picked up your anniversary picture from 2 years ago and threw it at ran. ran had caught on before him thought, pulling out his baton to fling it away from him.

the two of them were just playing baseball at this point.

all your valuable things being thrown at ran, only for ran to fling it back with one slow swing of his baton.

you couldn’t take this game of madness anymore.

before anything else could happen, you stood up and stood between the two of them.

both of them halted, looking at you. you were crying.

“just let us go for the night.” you whispered, looking at rindou. “stress isn’t good for the baby.” you continued, wiping your eyes.

as much as ran hated to admit it, you were right. the two of them knew you didn’t want the baby, but having a miscarriage like that?

you wouldn’t be in the right mindset.

so rindou had no choice but to let you go.

~

you woke up hours later, in a unfamiliar comfy bed and the smell of strawberry pound cake in the air.

you rubbed your eyes, looking around. you were in ran’s bed. while he wanted to take the guest room, you found no harm in sleeping in the same bed.

so you did that. although ran slept wild, it was probably one of the best sleeps you’d ever have.

you slipped out of bed, making your way downstairs to ran’s luxurious kitchen. but as soon as you made it to the last step, you were met with a green screen and your sons laughter.

“alright. what’s happening?” you asked putting your hands on your hips.

a bunch of tumbling and giggles were heard, before two pairs of footsteps could be heard approaching you.

“good afternoon honeysweet.” you heard ran’s voice, seemingly out of breath.

afternoon? just how long were you asleep for? how long did ran let you sleep in?

“what’s going on?” you asked, attempting to push the green screen to the side.

the screen was pushed back almost immediately, a fit of giggles coming from haru once more.

“down here is kinda... under construction. we’ll come to you when we’re finished. just go shower and stuff.” ran said, shushing haru.

you chuckled and made your way back upstairs. you opened the door to ran’s bathroom, being met with a pack of necessities for you.

a heart shape sticky note read “for my mommy” in sloppy handwriting. it was definitely written by haru, since ran is capable of writing with both hands, and absolute shit at sloppy writing. how? we’ll never know.

you smiled and folded up the paper, undressing quickly and looking at yourself in the mirror. you sighed, and turned to the side.

your stomach was starting to form, and you hated it. 

when pregnant with haru, you felt like this too. hell, it was your first time. of course you didn’t like your body.

but this was a different feeling than before.

you felt pure and utter disgust with yourself, your body following suit.

you sighed and looked away from the mirror, starting the shower and getting in to rinse off the dirty feeling.

~

you walked downstairs, feeling fresh and new. this time, the green screen wasn’t in the way of the stairs.

sounds of giggles and footsteps could be heard in the kitchen.

you smiled, recognizing the sound of your son. you made your way into the kitchen, seeing ran and haru place dishes onto the island counter.

it was a full course meal.

“wow.” you muttered quietly, blinking in amazement.

haru looked at you with his natural beaming smile. one that you hadn’t seen in quite a few days.

“bone apple teeth!” haru giggled, clapping in excitement.

“i think you mean bon appetit.” you giggled along, sitting at the island counter with the food in front of you.

ran smiled, nudging the small bowl of fruits your way.

“haru! now that we’ve finished, i think max and ruby is on.” ran said, checking his watch.

haru’s eyes widened, and he scrambled up the stairs to catch his favorite show. the only show that could top bubble guppies.

ran smiled and sat next to you, sighing a bit.

you looked over at him, not being able to read his facial expression.

“what do you want to do now?” ran asked, looking at you ever so slightly.

you had gotten silent, not knowing what to say. you couldn’t stay with ran, as all your things were with rindou, but you didn’t know if you could handle staying with rindou.

“i don’t want to take haru away from his father-” “this isn’t about haru, honeysweet.” ran cut you off immediately, giving you a serious face.

you stayed silent, looking away from his gaze.

“it’s okay. if you want to stay with me.” ran said, taking your hand softly.

you nodded quietly. that was what gave him your answer.

~

the next day, before work, ran took you to the house to grab most of you and haru’s things.

you walked to the door and knocked on it, waiting for rindou to answer. it was his off day, after all.

when the door opened, you were expecting to meet rindou’s tired and annoyed face. a face you got used to after waking him up.

but instead, you were met with a woman.

she was beautiful.

messy brown curls going down her back, and a hourglass figure that glowed.

you could only imagine how she looked from the back.

“who are you?” she asked, her face formed into a slight pout as she rubbed her eyes.

she was sleeping here.

at your house.

“uhm..” you started quietly, looking away.

“who’s at the door pretty girl?” you heard rindou say, his voice approaching.

when he seen you, he stopped in his tracks and his eyes narrowed.

“what are you doing here?” rindou asked, crossing his arms.

looking over the girl’s figure again, then back at rindou. you could tell she was glowing for a reason. 

“i just.. wanted to get some of my things. haru’s things. please.” you whispered, biting back fat tears.

rindou nodded, gesturing the woman in front of you to let her in.

you heard her short whispers of  ‘who the fuck is that’ before you made your way upstairs to the room.

you refused to hear the rest of the conversation.

therefore, you quickly grabbed and stuffed random things of yours and random things of haru’s into bags.

when you finished, you stopped and looked at the bed you spent most of your time in. it was messy on both sides. it then hit you.

she slept in your bed, in your spot.

your averted your eyes to the beautiful promise ring on your finger. why did you still wear it?

you made your way downstairs to the ‘couple’ and tapped rindou.

he turned around and looked at you, raising his eyebrow.

you put the ring into his hand and took a deep breath, raising your head to look him in the eye.

“i’ll let you know about the uh.. the pregnancy.” you whispered, before heading out of the house.

“wait.” rindou said, stopping you in your tracks.

he wouldn’t beg you for forgiveness and to stay in front of his mistress, right? will he chose you, or her?

you turned to look him in the eye once more, questioning his motive.

“haru. where is he? when will i see him?” rindou asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

you thought for a second, before letting out a small sigh. of course he wouldn’t.

“call him. see when he wants to see you.” you muttered, walking out of the house and getting into ran’s car.

ran looked over at you, then at the doorstep where rindou stood.

“he didn’t hurt you, right?” ran asked, putting a soft hand on your shoulder.

you shook your head, motioning him to drive.

you knew he cheated on you from long before, so why did seeing her open your door, sleep in your bed, hurt you so much?

why do you have such a heavy weight on your heart now?

~

tags: @uwubby-1 @no-signal

[krash-and-co]

Lockwood and Co as things I've heard/said

the majority are from school because it is my 8 hour prison where I am forced to have social interactions with people

~

Lockwood: my mood board is myself because I'm very egotistical.

~

Lucy: *walks in front of class to present* hi, you have no idea how much I don't want to be here.

~

Holly: Put your hand over the walnut before you crack it.

Lockwood, staring at bits of walnut all over the table: you could have told me sooner

~

Lockwood: it's created off of a legend... myself.

~

Skull: Bye! don't die!!

Lucy, panicked: I'M GONNA DIE

~

Holly, discussing dresses: I did, photos of like, balls and stuff...

[George and Lucy snort]

Lucy: *whispers to lockwood* I'm so immature

Lockwood, obliviously: what

~

George: why is it so pixilated. it looks deep fried.

~

Kipps, sounding dead inside, face down on the table: girls. just wanna have fuh. un.

Holly walking past: SING it!!

~

Lockwood loudly, monotone: we were inspired by many things. Mountains. Forests. Cities. and Detroit.

~

Lockwood: we all share the same sun, so why don't we all share the same clothing brand?

~

Holly: why is that child in the sand. its torso. it's up to its torso in the sand.

~

Kipps gleefully, watching a musical recording at top volume in a city bus: they all hate me. they're all gonna hate me. oh, they all hate me.

~

George, angrily: you bought a typewriter?! you could have bought sonic frontiers!!

~

Holly: do not mimic the way people talk! do not mimic!!

Lucy, jokingly: do you like to mimic, Lockwood?

Lockwood: yes-

Lucy: PFF-

~

Lockwood, rocking in chair, tapping foot, and laughing manically: we are so NORMAL!!!

~

[Lockwood and George missed the ride Lucy was on]

*Lockwood: *grabbing George by the backpack and shoving him forwards* GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO G[they chase the bus through the road, screaming]

~

Lockwood, about himself: Lockwood is having a fit. *he is standing perfectly calmly*

~

Lockwood, in a singsongy voice: *speeds down hall* I'm too ADHD, now my teachers hate me...

Lucy, loudly behind him: I'M A SOGGY WOGGY BOGGY CLOGGY-- HOLLY!

George, next to Lucy: HAH-

Holly: NO I DON'T KNOW YOU GUYS

~

Lucy: are you ready to die today?

Lockwood: *quickly nods head*

Lockwood: *widens eyes*

Lockwood: *quickly shakes head*

~

Lucy: is he gonna drive us off a bridge?!

Lockwood: *claps once loudly* NO!! you hit that bridge at TOP SPEED.

~

Lucy to Holly, eating ice cream straight out of the carton: *waves spoon* this will go in your nose and out your ear.

~

Lucy, tearfully: we're gonna DIE!!!

Lockwood, bouncing in his seat: WE'LL NEVER GET TO TURN 15!!

Lucy: *wails* WE'LL NEVER GET TO DRIVE!!

Lockwood: I DON'T WANT TO DRIVE!!!

~

Lucy: Hey! when you say you give a quarter to charity, do you mean, like, 1 quarter? or twenty-five cents?

George: WHA-[everyone starts screaming]

Lockwood, panicked: I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW

[ailawritesfics]

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳ 𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓷 /𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓗𝓬𝓼

✎cw: yandere/dark themes, kidnapping, toxic behavior, manipulation, physical abuse, blood, objectification(?), tell me if i missed any

✎notes: is security breach still a thing??? Cuz I may or may not have fallen for a certain daycare attendant. I looked at him and went "oh my gosh, I love him???" and now I think I went in too deep down the rabbit hole,,, also, I haven't written in months so pls bear with me

✧Sun and Moon are polar opposites as yanderes. Whilst Sun is obsessive, Moon is possessive beyond belief. Though both believe they're doing the best for you in their own messed up way, no matter if they're aware that what they're doing is wrong or not, you're not going anywhere

✧Sun sees you as a fragile little human that he needs to protect and guard 24/7. Unlike an animatronic such as himself, to a human a simple scratch can be enough to draw blood which throws him into a panic. He doesn't like seeing you hurt!

✧A clumsy person like you needs to be supervised or kept in a safe environment. Sun doesn't care if you're actually clumsy or not, he'll keep you in a safe and secure location to make sure you don't go wandering out and hurt yourself

✧He deludes himself into thinking that he knows what's best for you. That everything he has done, is doing, and will do in the future is in your best interest, regardless if it is or it isn't. So you better sit tight and be obedient or else...

✧Sun doesn't like harsh punishments all that much unlike Moon. He's afraid he might accidentally harm you badly so when he does punish you, it's usually depriving you of necessities, like food, water, a bed, ect. And it'll last however long he sees fit

✧Sun rewards you for being obedient and playing nice. You know how sometimes in kindergarten they have these boards with childrens' names with stars next to them? If you don't act out and actually listen to him, he'll give you a star. Each star gives you "privileges", as he likes to call them. You stayed in your room all day and didn't break anything or try to escape? You get a star, good girl/boy! Now you can walk around the daycare with him after hours for an hour or two!

✧You made an art piece just for him? How sweet! You get another star! Now you're allowed to request what you want to eat for tonight, instead of the cold, probably nearly spoiled pizza Sun often gives you for dinner. He'll treat you like a child still learning the ropes at times, and other times he'll treat you like a responsible adult. He'll switch between the two suddenly and randomly, it's difficult to get a read on him

✧As long as it pleases him, he'll give you a star pretty easily but he can also take them away as easily as he gave them. He'll treat you like a stubborn little kid if so. He'll scold you and lock you in a dark room or closet for hours on end until he's sure you learned your lesson

✧Most of the time Sun's punishments are humane, although they're mostly about treating you like a spoiled, stubborn little kid

✧Now onto Moon

✧Unlike Sun, he doesn't see you as a fragile human. He knows you'll probably break easily if he bends your limbs the wrong way but that won't stop him from treating you roughly especially if you're disobeying him or if he's just not in a good mood

✧Moon doesn't like anyone else being near you or even speaking about you so he locks you up for hours, a whole day if he's in a sour mood. And then proceeds to blame you for others speaking about you, scolding and gaslighting you

✧He's big on punishments. Unlike his counterpart, he doesn't want to "coddle" you, and treat you like a child who can't help themselves. You're tough, aren't you? Of course you are! You can handle a few hits, he knows you can. He knows how well you take his punishments...

✧He doesn't reward you as much as Sun, he rarely does actually, but on the rare occasions he does decide to reward you he only really does the bare minimum which is letting you wonder around in his and Sun's room freely without scolding you for every little thing you do. If he's feeling a little generous he'll let you eat. He'll give you he finds laying around, doesn't care if it can be considered a proper meal or not or if it's about to or has gone bad

✧Moon can be aggressive, he manhandles you around the daycare whenever he feels like it. He doesn't see you as a person like Sun does, he sees you as more of an object in his possession. He's not afraid to lose you and not afraid if he breaks you either because he can simply find a replacement

[theunaestheticstudyblr]

Sometimes making small changes have a BIG impact on your success and mindset. This is something I had to work HARD to realize and make happen for me. And these small changes take time to actually manifest change. But my life now compared to how it was two years ago? It was worth every act of discipline, every tear, every earlier morning. Two years ago I was extremely depressed, focused on my weight, failing classes constantly, just in a terrible spot. And then I started making changes because I didn't want to be like that anymore. And these changes don't cure things, but they can help change your mindset a little. A big driver in my depression was my anxiety and OCD, so helping those helped that as well. I still have depression, anxiety, OCD, all of that, but I can manage it now better than ever and I'm getting better each week. I've been passing my classes now. I got myself out of bad situations and cut ties to people who weren't good for me.

But this all started by making me make my bed every morning. That was the first small step. Just pull the covers back up to the pillows. I don't even make it look nice. Just covered. Get up, brush my teeth, then make the bed.

One thing I started doing was writing a sentence or two a day about that day. Make a to-do list for the week and then every day just write something. Now I keep a journal and I have fun with it! When I first started, it was awful and sometimes reading the things I used to write breaks my heart. But I also saw my gradual growth and change as well as my days started getting better and my thoughts were getting better as well.

For every bad thing I'd say about myself, I'd say something neutral or even positive. For example, if I looked in the mirror and say I'm fat, I'd have to find something I'm neutral or positive about and omg this was EXTREMELY hard for me. Because usually what follows a neutral comment like "I have long hair" would be a negative comment about it and you sit there and fight with yourself. But just yesterday I went shopping and I thought I looked AMAZING. The fights with yourself and the tears and frustration are 100% worth that feeling of finally actually seeing yourself and being like damn look at that hotty.

Eating at least 2 meals a day with snacks in between was a major game changer. I eat breakfast now every day and usually a late lunch and have snacks. And as someone who is recovering from an ED, it feels like a lot of food, but my body needs it. If a child were hungry, I would give them a snack. So why not myself? And by eating more, I have become more stable mentally and happier. I still don't eat as much as I should which is apparent by my major mood swings, but i am doing so much better and my life has improved significantly since. Honestly, making sure I eat at least 2 meals a day has probably made the largest impact for me all across the board. I study better, I maintain relationships better, I sleep better, etc.

Moving every day helps me so much too. My depression gets bad when I stay inside for long periods of time so going out for a walk every day or to the beach or something has helped me more than I'd like to admit. I know this is so stereotypical. Get up and stretch. Get sun. But it helped me so much. Sometimes the walk is just to my mailbox. Sometimes it's a 6 mile walk on the beach. I never push myself though. I'm not going to force myself to spend precious energy on a long, hot walk. And I don't go for runs or bike rides or anything like that because I don't enjoy them. So don't force yourself to do things that you don't like and don't overexert yourself. That's counterproductive tbh.

And on a monthly basis, I buy myself flowers and make a bouquet, deep clean the house, get photos printed, and go out for dessert. You have to give yourself little treats! Treats are very important and give you something to be excited and work for!

[fluffyydumplings]

It always Rains Whenever We are Together - Kim Namjoon

Genre: horror / thriller / crime!au / angst

Pairing: professor!namjoon x bookstore owner!reader x officer!hoseok

Word Count: 11.4k

Plot Summary: She’s afraid of the rain, and he’s her umbrella. Everything is not like what it seems though. After all, umbrellas can have holes. The one over her head.. It’s a different colour from the one she knows ever so well. She has been deceived. By him..

Prompts: 6 of horror/thriller, 15 and 24 of angst - ‘The Seasonal Blues Event’ hosted by @houseofincantations

Warning: attempted murder / infidelity / deception / mentions of sex (no smut) / personallity disorders / amnesia / inaccurate depictions of the law / consumption of alcohol

A/N: Meow ha ha ha ha.. I’m so evil for this..

More than half of this was written at night and resulted in me freaking out for ten minutes straight after the chapter was written. Because I was scared. :).. And you are talking to a person who slept peacefully after watching a horror movie.

Thank you to @xcherrycosmos for beta-reading this for me. I appreciate the lovely feedback you gave. Thank you so much.. :] 💜💜

Taglist: @galaxtea-writes @jungcookiex @startrekfan @nikieskoo

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Fluffy Dumpling’s Masterlist

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Mood Board

September 11th of 2012, the day we met.

I was walking back home from work when it started to rain. I forgot to bring an umbrella with me and was getting soaked with every inch of my skin. My bag had water dripping from its sides, and my hair had water flowing down its strands. I was shivering.. I looked as though I had been pushed off of a bridge, returning as an apparition to lurk for revenge.

If that had continued on, I was sure to shrivel up and die. For no person can handle the sheer magnitude of a dam cracking open on their heads. So vulnerable to the perpetual flow of raindrops that flutter down innocently. Its innocence a pretence to lure me in, for it has the power to swallow me alive. First, my lungs will fill up with water, then my feet will get weak, and then I will become one with the ground. Decomposing and becoming a fossil geologists a millennium from now will rely on to study.

‘You look cold,’ I flinched at the noise that permeated through the silence of the night.

The sun had set long ago, unsettling, for I am usually alone. Everyone is way too afraid to come out. Locked up in their rooms, as the radio blasts away. The music too loud for anything other than the singer to be heard. Even if it isn’t, and they hear someone scream or cry - they cover their eyes and indulge themselves in these few words: ‘Ignorance is Bliss.’ For isn’t it better to be ignorant than to be dead?

‘This town is known for its brutal cases of murder and assault. The perpetrators never found and the victims never given justice. The homicide cases have risen by 10% over the last decade,’ I had heard once on the radio, over a dinner meeting.

My mother begging me to move away. But, the child in me wanting nothing but to cling to what is familiar.

Sadly.. It didn't get to me until my mother didn't come home one day. Her body laying on the street, a white sheet the only thing that covers what remains of her dignity.

It's been two decades, the times have changed. Yet people still stick to the past.

Perhaps I should have done just as they did. I couldn't though. So here I am, a stranger behind my back. You were behind my back.

The streets were void of cars and the lights were dimmed. I didn't know if I could trust you..

‘Are you okay?’

Were those words of actual concern, or words of deception? I couldn't let my guard down just like that. My conscience told me to run.. However you see, I couldn't run.

I was frozen in place.

Fire tracing over my back, ascending to my neck and flushing my cheeks red. I was burning up.

When you are in pain, scared, anxious, happy, or empty, your body reacts. Your body knows you better than you know it.

‘Don’t come closer! Don’t come closer!’ I repeated over and over again, wrapping myself in a blanket of comfort.

Don’t hurt me! I’ll give you anything! I’ll give you everything! Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me! Don’t hurt me!.. I didn't have the courage to say that. I was scared it would provoke you more.

Please.. Don’t Don’t..

I broke down on the floor, trembling like a child on caffeine. If I was crying, I wouldn't have known. The rain and my tears were camouflaged as one.

Maybe my eyes were red, I wouldn’t have known. It could have been burning from the rain and not the blood of distress that bubbled in my veins - the same sangria red coursing through my body until it twitched.

You know what! Stab me! Stab me to the point I’m unrecognisable! Strip me off of my humanity! Drag me down to hell already! I’m so tired of this! I’m so tired of it all! My life was never right, to begin with anyway! So.. Stab me! Stab me and get over it!

I’d laugh at how bipolar I seemed to be if it weren’t for the fact that I couldn't speak. So shocked, my voice gave up on me.

‘Please get up.. The ground’s wet,’ yet instead of being punctured by the blade of a rusted knife, a pair of hands reached out to me.

Like the fool I was, I grabbed on to whatever I could. The sharp corners of my nails clawing at the base of your palms.

No one has ever reached their hands out for me. I couldn't resist. Even if it meant I would soon fall to my demise.

‘We need to bring you somewhere safe.’

I turned around and started to freak out yet again. My eyes widened in horror, as I tried crawling away. I expected you to yank onto my hair and drag me back. But.. you didn’t.. It was just my anxiety taking over.

‘Please stop.. I won’t hurt you,’ you pleaded..

  And so I did. I stopped..

‘Aha! There we go,’ you draped your jacket over me, sheltering me from the rain - if only it could shelter me from you.

‘Huh?’ I peeked through the tiny hole next to the zipper, the world within the premises of the piece of clothing making me feel bigger than I ever did outside of it.

You didn't look scary nor monstrous at all.. You were beautiful.. Ethereal.. Majestical

Despite that, the thirty centimetres of fabric was what I was going to stick with. I will continue to scream at the world before me. The fact that you didn't look alarming wasn’t going to stop me. 

When my mother didn't die like everyone else’s did, or when everyone else had a mother when I didn't.. I got ostracised. Whether it was group studies, birthday parties or campaigns. I was never invited. What makes me think you’re any different than them?

They were scared to stick next to me. ‘If the killer came for her mother, who knows when they will come for her?’

That didn't stop me from being the person I am today: fearless.. That's what I pretend to be..

The truth.. I have full-on panic attacks whenever someone is present behind me..

I try to pretend that those rumours never got to me. However.. You see, the moment I came to be aware of their existence, they became the truth installed in my head.

‘I know a clinic up ahead. We’ll get you treated there.’

I glanced down, blood seeping through my sneakers - the left pair. Trimming off every hint of innocence the strikingly white pair of shoes once consisted of. It hurts..

It stings.. I was running and I didn't even know it. Yet you chased after me?

‘Uhh..’ I groaned.. It felt like needles were jabbing at my ankle. The devil sweeping my dishevelled hair to the side, and whispering into my ears: ‘You’re going to die! You deserve it!’

The same voice that plagued the bedroom walls during those nights where lightning would strike across the sky.

‘Uhhh..’ my fingers roamed over to my ears, preventing myself from hearing every scream and laughter uttered out loud.

I didn't want to hear it! I was tired of it all!

I wasn't afraid of you, I was afraid of that rainy day when shit went wrong. When I was left an orphan, expected to fend for myself.

‘Ms.. Are you okay?’

‘Please help me..’ I plummeted to the ground, my chest flat on the floor. Like an umbrella opened and forgotten.

That's right! I wasn't afraid of you!

  I felt something creeping up my waist, my existence levitated up into the air. I was being saved.

The rain wouldn’t harm me ever again. Mommy will be safe. I won’t die! We won’t die!

‘Wu-wat are you doing?’

I leaned into your warmth.. It felt nice.. So- nice..

‘Ms L/N Y/N.. Are you there?’ a turbulent hammering continued in my head, my eyes struggling to adjust to the lights emitted by the lamp situated on my bedside ta-

I don't own a lamp! Neither do I have a bedside table! realisation punched me awake.

‘Where am I?’ I sat up, the clock’s every tick and turn mocking my very existence.

September 12th, 2012.. The calendar displayed with big fat red letters hanged loosely on the wall.

Red! My foot.. I rustled the white covers off of me, bandages wrapped neatly over where I recall it hurting.

It wasn’t a dream after all.. If so, Where is he? I didn't get to thank him yet. I would have died yesterday if he hadn't found me.

‘You’re at the hospital, Ms L/N Y/N,’ the woman who appeared to be a doctor replied.

‘A professor by the name of Kim Namjoon brought you here. You were bleeding around your ankle, had a few bruises on your arm, and arrived unstable. You should be able to leave today afternoon.. 4 pm..’

Namjoon. So, that's his name. It's pretty..

A professor? Hehe.. And I thought he was some unemployed pervert that has nothing better to do than follow women around.

‘Y/N!’

Hoseok? Oh shit!

‘Y/N.. Are you okay? Oh my goodness!! I should have picked you up yesterday!! Look!! You’re bleeding!! This Kim Namjoon, whoever he is, I’m grateful.. Oh my goodness!! Thank goodness you’re okay!!’ he’s frantic, refusing to let me go.

‘Are you sure this is good for your reputation, officer Jung?’ I tease, knowing how much that newly gained title means to him.

‘A kind officer who cares for his best friend.. Oh my, my reputation is ruined!’ he’s dramatic, dropping down to his knees and acting like a Shakespeare character that has been wronged.

‘Huh.. Silly little thing. You learned that from Seokjin, didn't you?’

‘Oh- Oh- How did you know?’ he moves back to sitting his ass down on my bed.

‘The guys’s a flirt.. He’s flirted with a fucking cat before. I’ve seen him.’

‘The pretty little kitty likes staying next to this handsome boy. Doesn’t she? Doesn't she?’

‘Aha ha ha ha,’ I can’t help but cackle at that.

‘Jin Hyung did that? I’ll have to bring that up one day.. Always nagging me to stop drinking so much caffeine. We’re officers.. How else do we survive?’

‘Seok-ah.. Maybe he is right. Too much caffeine isn’t good for you.’

‘You too, Y/N.. Fine, I’ll cut on the caffeine,’ he pouts.

It’s truly unbelievable that this man right here solves a good ten homicide cases every month..

‘I’m Kim Namjoon.. I’m here to visit, L/N.. Uhh- Y/N.. Yes- L/N Y/N.’

‘Oh.. I remember you, professor. Come this way. She is right over there.’

Damn.. You look fine in that suit of yours.

‘Y/N! Earth to Y/N?!’ a hand wavers over my face, you nearing closer and closer.

‘Who are you?’ Hoseok defends me with his own body, his hands wavering over to grab the knife in his pocket.

Your eyes linger over to it, yet fear didn't strike them.

‘He’s the one who brought me here, Seok.’

‘Oh! Namjoon!’ his serious face dissolves into a grin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

October 17th of 2012, the day we reunited.

‘Two martinis,’ I request, leaning on the table as I release a grunt, ‘Uhhhhh..’

The books didn't arrive today, leaving tons of customers distressed and disappointed. Some even going to the extent of canceling their orders.

It was my fault.. I forgot to confirm the date.. It’s always my fault.

‘Hard day?’

I turn over to meet a familiar face.

Was I stunned or was I pleased? I didn't know..  

‘Yeah,’ I remove the garnish and chug the drink down.

The freshness of my failure yet to be obliterated by the intoxication I was searching for. My thoughts overpowering even the rambunctious banging of music that never falters.

‘Slow down..’ you chuckle.

‘I don’t want to,’ I gnaw at my bottom lip, tracing my fingers along the hoop earrings I wore.

Why were you here? Were you having a bad day as well? No one comes alone to drink unless they’ve been through some shit. Like how I drank my liver away, the day my boyfriend from college dumped me. Like how I distracted myself from the fact that people will never come to accept me for who I am. Like how I had no one to spend Christmas with, therefore decided to chug down a whole bottle of vodka. My body in pain the next day instead of longing for a person to be with.

‘Let me have the other one,’ your fingers crawl over to grasp the glass.

‘Fine,’ I tilt it closer, allowing you to take possession of the drink.

‘One whiskey.. Neat,’ the gloss on my lips fade away.

‘On the rocks..’

‘No.. Neat,’ I argue with you, raising my eyebrows in irritation.

I need something to burn the roof of my mouth and make my throat feel like it's on fire. Not a drink that is mild and soon to be diluted due to the ice in it. The martinis weren’t enough. Especially considering how one is now yours, and not mine.

‘That’s for me,’ in one gulp the transparent drink disappears.

‘Do Elaborate,’ I couldn’t quite get what you said.

Actually..  I was never able to get what anyone said or meant. Not just you.

‘The whiskey on the rocks is my order.’

You didn't call me dumb or inattentive. That cheers me up a bit.

‘One neat and one on the rocks,’ I inform the bartender, that listens intently.

‘And now were ordering for each other,’ you act like a giddy teenager finally accepted by his crush.

I like how innocence looks on you.

‘What happened?’

‘What do you mean by -  What happened?’

‘For you to need all of that alcohol?’ your breath fans over my neck.

‘Work..’ I sigh, looking down at the newly brought vessel of treacle-coloured liquid.

Regardless of how I might have needed a trash can to spill my feelings in, you looked as though you’ve been through a lot yourself. I didn’t need to bother you with my problems

‘Is that so? Do you want me to beat your boss up, sweetheart?’ 

What kind of offer is that? Feisty.. I like him.

Oh, Oh.. Sweetheart? I haven’t felt butterflies in such a long time.

‘I’m the boss over where I am. Are you going to beat me up?’

I could have sworn that I saw you smirk.

‘Do you want me to help you feel better?’ as expected the liquor scorches me.. So well, I almost feel better.

Wait a moment! Did you just offer to have sex with me? And why am I not opposed to this?

‘Depends on what you have to offer,’ I was playing a game I was bound to loose, yet I went along.

I’m still sober. Okay- Okay-  Slightly drunk, but still sober. All those years of drinking does a thing or so to you. I’ve always had a high tolerance to alcohol anyway.

‘What do I not have to offer?’ you play around with your shirt’s buttons on purpose - your exposed skin waiting for me to explore with my tongue.

Oh how desperately I wanted to rip your shirt off and roam my fingers over every centimetre that there is to you.

Perhaps that's why I woke up the next day, undressed, intertwined and one with you. The memory of last night fresh in the throbbing pain of my head and the aching sensation between my thighs.

‘Good morning.’

I was drunk on your voice more so than I was drunk last night. Is this what being hazy from sleep does to you? Because your husky and hoarse voice is good enough for me to accept the idea of dying in peace.

‘I planned a date for us,’ you traced circles over my back.

We didn't know each other well, but I was willing to get to know you. You’re so gentle and caring.. How do I not fall for you?

My heart might not have been sold completely, but a quarter of it is already yours.

‘The dress on the chair is yours,’ you get up from the bed, walking over to the bathroom - unashamed of how bare and exposed you are. Not bothering to wrap yourself up in a robe or walking in a way so you wouldn’t be disclosed.

Who am I blame you though? You’re beautiful..

So.. as you disappear, I admire your toned form one last time. The tattoo that marks your right leg, and the delicate curve of your hips.

‘Aren’t you going to join me?’ 

That night could have been two people so emerged in their own needs, so devasted to the point that they were willing to satisfy themselves in a heated lovemaking desolated of any kind of affection, tenderness, or fondness. However, it wasn’t. Nothing in the way your lips fell on mine or the way you touched me spoke so.

And as water befalls itself on us like the day we had met, our eyes locked. This time, my lips fell on yours first.. They felt perfect on mine, just as the rest of me did.

‘I prepared a picnic for us,’ you wrapped me up in a tight bundle, carrying me over to your bed.

I’ve never been handled this carefully before. A flower plucked from the ground, placed delicately in a bath of water.

‘You look beautiful,’ as you zipped the dress on, you placed kisses over my neck.

You were marking me as yours. A doll you could possess and call your own. Fucking her whenever you wanted, and convincing her to stay by murmuring the love confessions you never meant.

That day, I felt like a tree being pampered by its master. Your submission and will to do anything for me and to me, a reverse manipulation technique I never quite snagged onto. You made me think as though I was in control, when in reality it was always you who had the advantage of being the first player in a chess game.

I’ll play my moves without fear, knowing you are not trying to win at anything. Yet in the end, you’ll say checkmate. My king gone, and the truth out. My heart dropped out of my chest and my eyes bulged out in shock. A gun to my forehead, the game gone wrong.

My blood splatered on the floor, my soul all yours.

‘Sandwiches.. Sandwiches.. I tried to make my own, but that didn't end well. So.. I ordered them instead,’ you were embarrassed, stuttering between words.

This was a side of you I never got to see. A side that brought a smile to my face.

‘Have some,’ you push them over to my side.

Maybe that is how were are? Offering something to take, and giving in return. We’ve always wanted something from each other. Whether it was warmth or sweet words of petty lust.. We’ve always wanted something. You’ve never wanted me though.

‘Feed me,’ the strawberries and cream made my eyes crinkle. The soft bread melting away just as my worries did.

At that, red became raw on my lips.

There was something I missed then. The corruption in your eyes that awakened from how my lips looked as though it was dripping off blood.

I don't want to know what state you had imagined me in. Yet I can’t help but let my mind run miles down the road. Did you imagine a blade dragged across my back, or did you imagine a bullet up my throat?

‘Did the books arrive yet?’ you kissed the red off of my lips, fervent kitten licks that transferred it onto yours.

‘How- did you know?’ I was taken aback by how much you knew.

I should have ran away then..

‘You told me last night.’

A memory I didn't even know as mine hit me in the head like stones would.

‘I fucked up, Namjoon..’ I was on the brink of crying, my tears rooted so deep within me that they refused to fall. 

The dog howled like a wolf, as though it saw something it didn’t want to.. The wind cascaded against the glass windows, a creaking to be heard..

  ‘What did you do, sweetheart?’ you rubbed my back, pretending to care.

That was good enough for tears to leak from my eyes. When was the last time someone cared? When was last time someone listened to what I have to say? When was the last time someone stayed this long?

‘Sweetheart? Why are you crying?’ you dabbed the tears out off my eyes.

So I told you everything. The intense rumbling of the sky and the splattering of water on the ground, a sign that the universe was shaking its head in disapproval to what I had just done. It was raining.

Never in my life have associated rain with anything pleasant. I hated how it smelled, how it sounded, how it looked, how it fell and everything that has to do with it.

‘Scared... I’m scared...’ I buried myself under the blanket and fainted into your arms.

‘I’m here for you sweetheart...’

I felt comforted at that - the endearment your words held.

In a tsunami, where houses are embedded from their roofs and debris flutters around in the air. I stand seven feet deep in water, your arms enclosed around me. I was drowning and on my last set of oxygen, yet because you were there. I wasn't afraid.

Next to you, I felt loved. More loved than I have ever been.

And like leaves streaming down the drain, a year passed by. We were closer than ever and my world became yours just as it did mine.

Your eyes were the ones I looked forward to every weekend, the times in which you were done with teaching.

  I’d sit on your lap, as you’d correct one of the assignments your students had passed. I’d hear you grunt: ‘Such silly answers,’ once in a while. That's when I’d kiss the frown of your forehead away.

Whenever I’d see you get too distracted by me, I’d leave. Attempt to leave at least. For whenever I tried, you’d pull me back, begging me to stay. 

I never knew I’d be this deep into someone. So deep to the point that anything that I laid eyes on reminded me of you. You make a fool of me?

A fool I truly was..

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘Seok-ah!’ I approached him, a cup of coffee in my hands.

The umber brown liquid oozing its fragrant scent everywhere. A scent closely bound to Hoseok's heart.

The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach, the way to Hoseok's heart is through coffee. Expresso with a shot of cream.

  As Jin likes to say: ‘Expresso yourself..’

The caffeinated drink describes Hoseok well. Before Namjoon, he was my safe space. His exuberant and animated personality transforming even the darkest of days to ones with a dash of sunshine. 

He always will be more than enough. But no one has time to listen to me go off about the bullshit I go through except for Namjoon. Hoseok's a busy man. Running around and solving cases every second that he were to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.

‘Y/N-ahh!’ he collapsed into me, the cup now placed on the table nearby.

His hugs I have grown to love.. With how busy he was then, I recall missing them quite greatly..

‘Seok!’ I tried to wiggle him off of me.

‘Are you scared your boyfriend will see us like this? Does he work here? Do I know him? Oh my- Is it Ji-’ you silence him.

‘So it is-’

‘No Seok-ah.. It’s Namjoon,’ and for some reason a fire ignited in his eyes at the mention of your name.

'I don't like him, Y/N..'

'You know you can't stop me from seeing him, right? I am my own person.'

'I know.. Just be careful,' he kisses the top of my head.

Hoseok desperately wanted to tell me about how he was digging deep into your files and history. However, upon knowing who you were to me, he knew I'd snap at him for doing what he did.

'I've got to go now, Seok-ah! Take care!'

And what he found after I left.. It wasn't pretty..

‘What did you find?’ he towered over his junior. 

He knows how this is a breach of the law, and he could possibly loose his badge from it. But.. He needed to know if you were as innocent as you claimed to be.

If he wanted to know before, he now needed to know. Especially since you were oftentimes by my side.

If you were to be anyone else, he would have smiled at me and congratulated me for the new partner I have found. But.. Ever since the day you had stepped foot in his life, he had no reason not to suspect you.

That day at the hospital, you didn't show any form of anxiety when he held on to his stunt knife. That's not normal. A regular and stable-minded person would have flinched away, fear in their eyes. He concluded that day, that you either had knowledge on knives or was sick in the head.

He decided to let that go, thinking that he was looking way to much into all of it. His usual role as a government worker in the department of crime blinding him from reality. On the other hand.. you’re the person who saved me from dying on the streets.

He should be thankful of you. You did save the most important person in his life.

The next time he had run into you was when he was going out for a coffee break. His night-shift preventing him from getting the sleep he needed.

You had a hoodie over your head, bleach reeking off of you. A hint of blood concealed underneath.

If it weren’t for the times Hoseok had to walk into a crime scene, the yellow tape doing him no mercy. Or the times he had to push reporters away from gaining way too much insight on a case, he wouldn't have spotted this right away. For the metallic taste of blood that lingered onto his tongue and the pungent smell that tickled at his nose haunted him for far too many nights for him to forget of its existence.

‘Kim Namjoon.. Whoever he is, Hyung.. The person you wanted me to gather information on.. He’s got a lot of shit on him,’ the dainty man before him informs.

‘Jimin.. What exactly did you find?’ Hoseok raised his eyebrows up in wonder.

‘He has two criminal records, one for gang violence and the other for theft..’

‘Are you sure you got the right Kim Namjoon? Because the one I know is a professor.’

He’s scratching the back of his head so hard, he is bound to have peeling and flakey skin.

‘Yes.. A professor at ‘Kim’s University of Seoul’..’

‘I had to dig hard for all of this to surface. His father is Kim f/N.. He’s the owner of Kim Corporation. A retired lawyer, who decided to go into politics. It didn't work out well for him, so he resigned. Hungry for wealth, he built an empire on his own. His brands are a success worldwide. Rose, Dawn, SV, and Berry Boo.. They are all under Kim Corporation.‘

‘The guys’s got connections, Hyung.. He probably paid his way through getting his son out of all that trouble. And if you didn't think it was messed up enough already. ‘Kim’s University of Seoul’ is owned by his uncle.’

‘They would look at his resume and be impressed. A doctorate in education, graduated from one of the best universities out there, and most of all - a master’s degree in child and adolescent psychology. And then they dig deeper, the criminal records surfacing up. Who would hire a person who was arrested for violence and theft? What those colleges and universities did is what I am doing.’

‘Do you have evidence?’ he didn't know what he was supposed to do with all of this information.

‘Plenty..’

‘As expected of the hacker fairy..’ coos spill from his lips.

‘Stop teasing me, Hyung.. The only reason why I’m doing this is because you’re paying me,’ Jimin’s glasses don’t fall just as his facial expression remains stone cold.

‘Here,’ he clicks on a file, two mugshots coming into light.

August 4th 2010

June 7th of 2011

‘1994? Rm?’

‘His name in the gang he was part of.. The date of birth is fake.’

Just how much does this Namjoon guy have to hide?, Hoseok had thought to himself.

Maybe he’d even come across a strange collection of books at the library one day. About gangs, RM mentioned somewhere between, above or under thousands of words printed on paper.

‘1984.. He’s the same age as you are.’

At that he wasn't surprised.. You looked around our age. The age where you stop believing in true love or fate, and just love for the sake of it. The age where you realise just how cruel human beings can be, and learn how to strive on your own. The age where you’re either running a bookstore or laying on the streets, waiting to die.

‘29..’

‘Yeah..’

The age in which you realise just how close you are to living for another decade. Some might fear how that nine will get pushed aside and replaced with zero, while others can’t wait for their numbers to be even yet again.

And when you reach thirty, you soon realise pretty quickly that it isn’t anything as big as people make it out to be. You’re just one step away from joining those ahjummas or ahjussies. But.. That's pretty much it.

You either lose contact with friends or hang out with the same one. Your job is either the same, or you are without one.

‘Why did the police allow him to do so?’ instead of questioning what, he was questioning why.

‘His father’s a high profile. He could make or break their career. They had to arrest him, that was definite. But.. If he wins the case, then they are free of his father's power and wrath. That’s exactly what happened’

‘The law wasn’t as strict as it is now. And him being a minor would be an advantage on his side. Minors can’t be sentenced to jail. Even if he were to lose, he’ll just be shipped off to some correction centre or forced to do a month’s worth of community service.’

‘To his luck. Daddy’s got a lot of cash to spare. Wouldn't want his “teenage” son to wipe the floors up,’ resentment seemed to flow out of the hacker‘s lips.

Those pretty lips that would only spill flowers out of them, cussing ever so mercilessly at a supposed stranger.

‘Is there something I don't know about, Chim?’

Hoseok was right to be suspicious. This behaviour was so unlike of Jimin. The young chap has seen through countless of cases. Ones where the cruellest of cruel were taking place. Whether it was finger chopping or knife carving, he’s seen it all. And even amidst all of that, he’s never been anything but professional. Even if he probably uttered profanity in his head countless of times at those evil bastards he had to research on. He’s never been this straightforward with how he felt, to the point where he’d say it out loud.

‘I- I-’

The mouse has been caught in the trap. He was definitely hiding something.

‘Hyung, I told you about my sister.. Right?’ he swears that he sees Jimin’s eyes water.

‘Yeah.. The one who’s in a coma?’

Hoseok’s worried. The younger never blinks or flinches at anything, yet he was trembling right now. 

‘What did I tell you about her?’

Jimin had snot all over his face and his eyes weren’t the one of intelligence that Hoseok has grown accustomed to.

‘That she got into a car accident,’ Hoseok only speaks of what he knows.

‘Well.. That's bullshit! Because walking out of school, she was attacked by a group of drunk men! One of which hit her harder than the others did! One of which- Huh.. damaged her internal organs! To the point! To-.. To.. The point.. Huhh.. Huhhh.. She had- had- to rely on a machine to li- live,’ the sweet voice that would joke around or recite information to him was never this scary.

He screamed so hard, Hoseok doesn't know whether the soundproof walls would be able to contain it all. His voice was hoarse as he muttered the last few words he had to say. 

‘Who do you think.. Huhh.. Did that?’

‘Huhh.. Huhh.. Huhh,’ Jimin was out of breath.

‘Breathe Jimin.. Breathe..’

Hoseok had spotted a glass of water sitting on the table, therefore he walked over to fetch it for the blonde-haired man to drink. He was tired, and he felt like retching his guts out upon knowing of Namjoon’s true identity.

‘Here..’ the sides of the glass are pressed tightly to Jimin’s lips. Plump, pink and sugary..

If it were years ago, he would have started imagining something else out of this scene before him. Something rather obscene.

‘It’s vodka..’ his lips moved away as soon as it touched what was presumably the alcoholic spirit that begins with a v. 

‘Fuck.. My bad,’ the glass is placed yet again where it came from.

Like a person unwanted by this world. Like me..

The edges so pretty, the outside clear of fingerprints, and the liquid within - one that some would treasure dearly. Yet at that day, they didn't want or need it.

That same cup could have been someone’s way of enduring the hardships of life. Whatever inside, gold that is meant to be savoured.

Alcohol doesn't solve all of your problems though. And as much as Jimin wanted to bring all the pain away. When he’s sober.. What is he to do?

‘Vodka will only make my throat dry,’ he starts cackling, yet misery is all that is present.

‘I don’t want it,’ his swivel chair allows him to turn over to the same table Hoseok travelled to, his fingers landing where it intends to land - the cup.

Like particular people are only appreciated by those who choose to do so. The cup was ignored.

‘I’m sorry Jimin..’

Hoseok fucked up.. He knows how much Jimin hated it when people pitied him, yet he said that one word Jimin hated the most: sorry.

‘Sorry won’t make my sister smile again. Sorry won’t put that bastard in jail. Sorry won’t make me smile again. Sorry won’t do anything, Hyung.. Plus, what are you sorry for?’

If he could buy a star and name it Jimin, he would. For whenever that star would sparkle, Jimin would smile.

‘Hyung, I think you should go..’

Jimin needed to be alone. He needed to hear how much his heart beat, and know how long he needed to cry for. All without the scrutiny of another person.

‘There’s one more thing you should know though..’

‘What is it, Jimin?’

Jimin was hesitant. He had a capsule filled with cyanide in it that he was about to feed to Hoseok. Hoseok would either swallow it dry or wet.. Either way, he knew that the elder would freak out at the information in his hands.

‘Namjoon’s married.’

He was right. Hoseok was wide-eyed and shocked to the point if a fly were to enter through his mouth, he would digest the fly instead of shooing it away.

‘Why doesn't he wear a ring?’

‘Because he doesn't want anyone knowing that he is married?’

Y/N! That little shit head!!! What does he want from her?!!! What does he want from her?!!!!!

‘When does Namjoon work?’

‘Mondays to Fridays,’ a sigh of relief.

That means he isn’t with me right now. I’m safe.

‘Great job, Chim! I’ll have the cash ready by tomorrow afternoon. If I run away, you know where to find me. The police have all of my information in their database. All you have to say is: Jung Hoseok scammed me. They’ll show it to you,’ enthusiastic as ever, he had been.

‘I’m sure you can’t afford running away, Officer.’

‘You won’t let me have my fun,’ a pout sinks into him.

He looked pissed off, when really, a smirk was hiding behind it this whole time.

‘Catch you later, Chim..’

‘Sure.. Sure..’ his sarcastic self was kicking back in.

Maybe he didn't need to cry after all.

‘Kim Namjoon, you have been exposed.’

Hoseok felt like a farmer who spent weeks to months ploughing the ground, planting seeds, and watering them under the blazing heat. The wheat now ready to be harvested and sold. 

Upon knowing this, he felt accomplished. He might have not done all the digging, and his fingers aren’t as sore as Jimin’s are. But.. It’s a success. He’s found out about what he wanted to know. What more does he want?

Now he can go warn you.. He can finally protect you, as he should have from the very beginning. Namjoon’s a dangerous man. How did he let it come this far?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I made your favourite that day.. Stir-fried kimchi and pork.

I couldn't help but smile as I carried the lunch I made to your workplace. You would be thrilled to see me here, I had thought.

  A bookmark to your busy day I was going to be. For I knew just how hectic things can get. Students forgetting books, students not listening, students dozing off and students coming in late. The list is endless.

Yet even after all of that, another wave of work comes rushing in. Whether it was sitting down and reviewing books so the next lesson will run smoothly, or writing down an explanation in advance for a lesson - you had to do it all. And in all good integrity.. For what? So you could see a bunch of twenty-year-olds deem your effort as nothing? What a life! Really.. What a life you had...

‘Nam-’ cold pressed into my cheeks, as devastation took over my muscles and my heart reduced to a pool of concentrated blood. For a second, the world was too fast for me.

The train that coursed from Incheon to Busan was miles ahead of where I am, unable to move. The leaves that plummeted to the ground in fall, vacant of colour just I was.

My eyes were bleeding not with tears, but betrayal.

Your coarse hands that I knew so well pressed into the back of another. Your lips that I could navigate with my eyes closed grazing that of another. Your hips that once brought me warmth, clasped tight to that of another. 

He was wearing an ash grey suit, his toned abs covered in a white blouse. You trailed your fingers all over him.

He had a towering flow of locks that reached his neck. Its length not comparable to the building from which my soul had fallen. 

‘No,’ I chocked a sniffle, a frog living in my gullet.

Every few seconds, the creature threatened to croak. I squeezed my neck tight. I’d rather choke than get caught. The green amphibian can feed on me for as long as it wants. Maybe it’ll even get rid of the flies of betrayal swarming in my lungs.  

As soon you had stopped eating his face out, I caught a glimpse of what he looked like. He was a beauty. Even through the rectangular glass opening saturated in fingerprints, I could tell he was beautiful.

I hated that he was beautiful! I hated that you were with him! But.. If he knew about me, wouldn’t he have hated me too?

Which one of us were you cheating on? Was it me, or was it him? I didn't want to know! I felt gross..

I felt as though a bullet had been lodged in my chest.. At first, it felt simply like a pebble was thrown at me, but then a burning sensation took over. It was painful! It was so painful!

I didn't have time to collect myself though. Not when I could feel the presence now looming over the door. The tingling smell of roses escaping through the tiny gap under the door.

If I were to get caught then, whose side would you have been on? Would you have claimed that I was a stranger that you’ve never even met once? Or would you have claimed that I was hallucinating? That you and this other professor were simply chatting over tea, and I was being an obsessive girlfriend who couldn't trust you properly.

‘Bye..’ at that I knew I had to run for it.

I took my shoes off and went for what I could - the lavatory. Who knew I’d end up hiding behind your bathroom door one day? Who knew I’d ever be stuck where I am now? I felt as though I was trapped in a crime show of some sort, running away from the upcoming danger ahead of me. Perhaps a crime show would have been better..

‘Thank goodness,’ a hand slammed across my mouth, as I listened.

Quietly sobbing, I couldn't open my eyes. The world was too bright for what I have become.

‘I’ll see you at home, Namjoon Hyung.’

Home? They live together? I’m the bitch here.. Aren't I? Why me! Why me! Fuck me! Fuck you Kim Namjoon!

My brain then was a mess. A dumpsite of confusion, anguish, trepidation, dismay, and heartbreak.

‘It’s been a great day,’ he walked past me, a smile on his face. The opposite of whatever frown or scowl on mine. I couldn't bear to look into the mirror, it would have only been a reminder of the battle taking place in my heart. The heart forcefully torn into shreds by the same vulture that repeatedly pecked at Prometheus’s flesh and ate his liver.

He didn't stay still and walked playfully forward. Therefore... at a specific turn of his body, his name became visible to me.

He was a professor just as you were, knowing how the reflective silver tag lies on your chest just as it did his. Even with my eyes blinded by tears, his name slowly plagued my mind like a virus infecting a computer. I thought I had lost the ability to remember, but then his name became permanently engraved in my mind. It was as though it was all I knew. It was as though it was all I was allowed to know.

Jeon Jungkook. That’s his name. Jeon Jungkook, who are you? And how did I become entangled in your life, despite having known you for two seconds?

I recall walking home that day, my feet red just as my eyes were.

After I met you, I thought the rain would never swallow me up ever again - for you’d protect me. But, I was wrong. For the ocean came up to my knees. I couldn't get up, and you were doing the opposite of what you had promised. You were pushing me into the waves, my breath no more.

Despite how much I wanted to hold onto our love and pretend that your feelings towards me were unadulterated and pure. I knew what I had to do. I had to confront you. I had to set things right.. I had to walk away. 

‘Joonie.. Are you ready for our date?’

I was at your door, five pm.. September 11th of 2013.

It's funny how things come to be, isn’t it? How we end up separating on the day we met..

And as usual, the sky’s looking after me. It had soaked the ground with its blood, sweat, and tears. It either wanted me to slip on water or soak in water. I didn't slip, the bottom of my shoes were just absorbed in mud.

I was going to wear your favourite pair of red heels. However, you took all of me and gave me none of you. Who are you to deserve even a drop more of me? I won’t let you have me again! I won’t be yours ever again!

Because.. Kim Namjoon, there was once a thin thread of connection that attached us together. The one on my side thicker than the one on your side. It was about time I ended what was never supposed to happen.

‘Y/N.. Ah. Our anniversary is nearing soon. I’ve got a surprise for you,’ as you had kept your eyes on the road, I tried my best to not spit at your face.

The audacity you possessed, when in reality you had a husband to go home to -  then again, assholes like you are the ones with the most inflated of egos and pride.

That's right, aside from the name tag, I managed to get a peek of the golden band plastered in gems on both of your fingers.

It is said that your ring finger connects to your heart. If your veins were to be visible, you’d see how it runs to nowhere. Cut off and unable to allow blood-flow. After all.. You don’t have a heart.

‘Oh.. Joonie. You don't have to get me anything.’

If I had to sugar-coat my way through it all and pretend to be the person that fell in love with you. So it be..

Today will be the last of it all. My lips will no longer spill sugar for you. For you have torched me with the fire you sneaked in behind my back, and now I am burnt. Wounded, sharp and acrid all in between.

Bitter lingers on the tip of my tongue. It swirls deep within the crevices of my soul, therefore, venom or nothing is all that I will cuss at you.

‘But.. I want to! Stubborn as always.. Huhh! Anyways, we’re at the restaurant. If you won’t let me get you a present, at least let me buy you a meal.’

You spoke three languages: lies, persuasion, and flattery.

First, the truth you spoon-fed to me and I swallowed ever so innocently. The truth that I only started choking on now, the poison finally getting to me.

The world is made up of stories and facts. A person can carry both, and you can’t tell which one is which. Just like I got tricked - a fish caught in your little net.

Second, those three words you told me every now and then. Those three words convinced me into thinking that you were enamoured of the person I was.

Don’t stay simply because someone says they love you.. Don’t believe them so easily.. You’ll fall that way, like I did. Because, at one point.. you become so heavy of love, the see-saw that you are both on sends you tumbling off its seat.

  Third, those times you’d compliment how beautiful, flawless or wise I was. Deprived of love and attention my whole life, your words chained me to the bar you set up. Perhaps that brought me attached to you as well - no one has ever done what you did to me.

‘One serving of medium-rare beef.’

The last supper, in which we sat there facing each other. You were being your usual self. Attractive, charming and witty as a cherry on pie. I guess that's how I ended up falling in love with you. But, the person I’m seeing now, it’s not you. It's the person you want me to see you as. What more fiction have you fed me, Joonie? You’re not the man I fell in love with..

‘I’ll cut it up for you,’ you insisted, and I agreed.

You’ve always had a liking for cutting things up into pieces. The way the knife sliced through the steak that day satisfied you; it made your eyes sparkle. Even more so than the taste of the meal itself did.

‘I have something to tell you.’

It was now or never. I had the scissors ready to cut our string of connection away, yet regardless of what I wanted, you decided to push the scissors back into its case. I had no choice but to surrender.

‘When I walk you home. Tell me then.’

‘Walk me home? Didn't you drive me here, Joonie?’

What are you playing at, Namjoon?

‘A friend needed the car. He came to pick it up a while ago.’

Are you bullshiting me right now? Who am I kidding? You always are..

‘Oh.. Is that so..’ I wiped the stains away from the corner of my lips, ‘Let’s go now then. We’re both finished. Aren't we?’

I tried my best to act normal and almost snapped. I should have just shouted at you then, leaving you stranded and infuriated just as you deserve. It would have been better if I had. I wouldn’t have to feel the lava bubbling inside of me, nor the aching persistence of the real version of myself that was dying to frown.

‘Yeah.. We are.‘

Strolling along with the swarm of silence that swallowed the neighbourhood we both inhabited, just as we did on the day we met, I was scared. This time.. it wasn’t the rain, it was you that I was scared of. 

The ground wasn’t coated in droplets or residue of the sky’s downpour, nor was it far as cold as it was that day. Yet, I shivered..

You were walking ahead of me, however, it felt like I was being watched. Watched by the shadow that roamed around you, watched by my own anxiety and fears, watched by the future I cannot see.

‘I’ll walk the rest of the way,’ despite how fearful I was, I couldn't let you know.

You would only take advantage of my vulnerability, slash me bare of my identity and abandon me with the person you have left me as. No name, no face or emotion to call as their own.

‘I wouldn’t want to bother you.’

Mistake number one.. Acting out of character and being obvious of your intentions.

‘Bother me of what?’

‘Your assignments,’ sweat rolled down my forehead. I lost..

Mistake number two.. Showing fear. You feed a killer’s narcissism that way. It just makes them more eager to get to you.

‘Not this,’ your eyes flashed from sweet ones I knew to the wicked ones I dreaded to meet. The symbol of marriage on your finger clear as the dull night light ahead of us could get.

There were no room for words. It would have been foolish of me to speak. For, if you think about it. Would that have changed you from being Kim Namjoon? No- Whether I spoke or not, you’d still be a dirty asshole of an unfaithful husband. 

So.. as fast as I could, I ran.. I needed to get away somehow. You were dangerous, far more dangerous than I first thought of you as.

‘Oops,’ your passive-aggressiveness runs everywhere.

Perhaps I had gotten to know the real you after all. Excluding the bits you didn't want me to know of course - the ones I ended up knowing anyway.

I turned around, and locked eyes with you. I didn’t know you. I wanted to scream and go: ‘Bring the namjoon I know back!’ But, there is no Namjoon that I knew or know. You are Namjoon.

‘Huh..’ that was all I could get out.

I didn't understand what you meant until I felt the wetness bonding to my foot. Red, was all I saw.

There was a fucking knife piercing through my sneakers - history seems to love repeating itself. I didn't expect to be in a state of déjà vu, following up a situation of such. Nevertheless, you were able to make me feel that way.

You were a sorcerer of deception and emotions. You brought out the parts of me I didn't even know existed and made me feel in a way I didn't even know I could. Everything is a lie though. You are a lie.

I guess that's why they say - sometimes we fall in love with the wrong people.

  I regret falling in love with you, yet at the same time, I don’t. You’ve taught me one important thing out of it all.. You’ve taught me, that being a good person is something I should aim for. (That I shouldn’t be you) Either than that, I hate you. With utter contempt.

‘Get away from me!’ I had to scream, in order to be heard.

Banshees tend to scream their lungs out when announcing a person’s death. I was one, just with a different purpose. I was screaming my lungs out so I wouldn’t succumb to death. I was announcing out loud: ‘I don't want to die!’

‘Get the fuck away from me!‘ I begged to be saved.

The houses.. I rushed for the closest one, limping as swiftly as I could. The black door painted with a big seven was my saviour. One that I never knew was coming but was there for me.

I knocked and knocked.. And knocked again. More desperate than goldy locks ever will be for survival. I was ready to make a dent in the door if I had to. I was knocking till my knuckles reddened and till it started bruising up. It was better to have tried than died in the hands of a killer like you.

‘Please... Help me,’ my voice was fading away, I wasn’t screaming anymore - I was crying. I was breaking down and pleading.

‘Please.. Save me.. Save me!!’ the pounding of the door, induced footsteps.

‘Get behind me,’ a grouchy voice demanded.

I was helpless.. I couldn't do anything else but follow.

‘Save me..’ a yelp escaped my throat, the world ahead of me blurry as I almost collapsed into an abyss of nothing.

‘The police is here..’

I was going to hit my head on the floor and bleed to death, yet despite that, a pair of hands glided over my waist. I wouldn’t die that day. I couldn't die. He, whom I didn't know the name of, wouldn’t let me die.

‘Hang in there.’

A part of me knew I wouldn't have regretted dying that day. Those words gave me hope, and somehow brought upon a smile on my face. The fact that someone wanted me alive was enough - more than enough.

You might call me a person who is easily attached and foolish for holding on to such a meaningless statement. And I admit. My tendency to believe and have hope in people, regardless of how humans are the reason to why my life is shit, brings me down more than once or twice. But, who are you to judge me for doing what I want? We are all foolish in a way.. Aren’t we? Maybe one day I’ll stop being that person. However.. For now, I’ll continue with who I am.

‘Isn’t she going to wake up soon?’ a rather familiar voice bolted at me like a whisper.

After that, everything was morphed into a variation of silence. My memories distorted, and my life similar to that of nothing. I was trapped in a black box with no curtains or lights to lend me even a sprinkle of hope.

‘She was stabbed twice,’ the doctor informed.

I might have not catched on to the conversation, but the irritation that surged up and down my back spoke to me through ripples of pain.

‘She arrived here mumbling about the knife a few inches close to her heel bone - that was when she passed out. She wasn’t aware of the other knife that was attached to her back - it was close to her spine. Thankfully, we were able to save her.’

‘She’s on pain medications right now. She’ll wake up in around a few days. We’ll be monitoring her closely both now and after she regains consciousness.’

‘She’s recommended to undergo physical therapy and cognitive behavioural therapy. It's to guarantee a proper recovery.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Past - Jin and another Officer ↴

‘Kim Namjoon.. 1994.’

‘84.. It’s fake,’ she adds on, so sure of herself.

‘How do you know that?’

‘We worked on his case years ago. Rm.. You know him, officer. The one who never got held accountable for what he did. The ‘Kim’s’ son.’

‘That bastard?‘ profanity wasn’t short on Jin’s side.

‘Yep.. This time it's attempted murder. Will the Kim really be able to bail him out again?’ coffee is stirred, the languid swooshing of liquid opposite to that of the situation taking place.

‘Wasn’t the gang violence case just as bad as this?’

‘There are eyewitnesses this time. Video evidence even. It won’t be easy for him to manipulate his way out of-’

*ring.. ring*

‘Hello.. I’m here to turn in evidence of the crime that occurred back in 2010.’

‘Ma’am, where are you calling from?’ Jin’s eyes are wide open and in shock.

‘I can’t reveal my identity..’ the woman behind the phone is consumed by sweat, her hands trembling as she holds her phone in place.

‘I was on my way home from buying groceries that day. When I saw a group of thugs.. Huhh.. beating up- beating up a young girl. I was so scared I left.. I saw the news. He’s the same guy isn’t he?..’

‘Yes.. Ma’am.. He is. The evidence you have could be the key to getting him convicted.’

‘My car’s camera was on that day. I have the footage stored on my computer,’ her feet shook palpably away as she picked at her nails.

‘We can arrange a place to meet..’

‘No- I will drop it off somewhere.. And.. And... And.. You- You can go pick it up.’

‘Jeon-ho marketplace. I’ll leave it near Beom’s fruit Stall,’ a sigh of relief is heard, as the line cuts.

‘Ma’am? Ma’am?.. Take your car there! We have to hurry.’

‘Yes, Sir..’

*inserts video..*

‘Holy shit..’

‘With all the evidence we have collected. Without a doubt, he’s not getting away this time.’

‘Don’t act like we’ve won already. We only win once he's behind bars.’

‘But.. Just look at all this evidence,’ she points at the device.

‘To get him punished for what he deserves, we have to dig much more deeper. Don’t be naive.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We got a psychologist to observe him. He’s psychopathic. Yet he allowed himself to get caught this easily?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Present - Jin and Taehyung ↴

‘Dun Dun Dun..’

‘Hyung... Continue on already,’ Taehyung ignores Jin’s dramatic sound effects.

‘How rude.’

‘Anyway.’

‘He did it on purpose. They were on a date - the victim and him. The waiter who served them said that he ordered wine but never drank it.’

‘Did he drug her?’

‘The wine was for him. The victim doesn't drink..’

‘He’s smart.. Super smart. He could have drank the wine, and used the state of being under the influence of alcohol to reduce his sentence. He didn't though. Which means he wanted to get caught.’

‘Why? Why would he do that,’ the man in all of his youth was perplexed, wrinkles forming places it shouldn't be.

‘Why would he want to get caught?’ a rhetorical question paired with a scoff, his superior had let out.

‘He’s tired of the life he has. His father’s a scumbag, his mother’s dead, his husband cheated on him, and in the middle of it all he’s stuck teaching a bunch of hard-headed youngsters.’

‘People like him depend harshly on the people they surround themselves with. He clings onto familiar scenarios and bathes in normality.’

‘The victim’s mother is dead. He approached her knowing that. He got into the relationship with the victim to get back at his partner. He too is a scumbag, and he too is hard-headed as fuck.’

‘He’s like a child.. A child who is trying to fit in among a crowd of adults. That turned him into a monster.’

‘And he’s now tired of being that monster.’

‘Poor thing..’ he pouts, undeserved sympathy born from his pure soul.

‘You can pitty him for the life he had and the people he had to be among. But never excuse what he did. He’s a monster - that will never change.’

‘How do we know that his husband was having an affair on him?’

‘Photos and Videos..’

‘Can I view it?’ a pencil is twirling in the air, tracing random patterns that remain invisible to the human eye.

‘Are you sure, Tae?’

‘Jin Hyung.. Just show it to me- I can handle it.’

‘It was sent over by an anonymous person..’

‘They could simply be friends..’ Tae’s up and on his feet.

‘There are more photos that have been sent. I don't think you’d want to see them.’

‘Hoseok Hyung didn't know.. That’s the only possible explanation.’.

‘He knew..’ Jin’s boiling in a state of disappointment, ‘Hoseok was held in with Jungkook yesterday.’

‘Held.. They are out now?’ the young officer simply wanted the man he looked up to and held in high regard in terms of a being a role-model to be as innocent and rightful as he knew him as.

‘They died.’

‘They what?!’ he was now pacing around in horror.

‘Hoseok provoked Namjoon a day before the incident.’

‘You have a footage of that too.. Don’t you?’

‘I do..’

‘Go on..’

‘He told namjoon..’

‘Just the play the fucking footage,’ at this point, he was enraged.

‘Fine.. If you say so,’ mouse clicks was all they could hear.

Mouse clicks that gave a rise to the horridness of this case.

*clip plays*

Hoseok:  I’ll tell him everything..

Namjoon: No.. Don’t- I can’t loose him

Hoseok: Then get rid of Y/N..

Namjoon: Aren’t you her best friend?

Hoseok: I warned her. She should have stepped away when she had the chance to.

Namjoon: What do you want me to do?

Hoseok: Here... Have fun

He handed a black bag over to him, the outline of a peculiar item clear as daylight.

*clip ends*

‘Knifes.. Isn’t it? That trash bag?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What happened in the investigation room yesterday?’ he was more composed. Anger wouldn’t do him any good but pent up rage in his heart.

‘They had a plan. They were going to put Namjoon behind bars, and live happily ever after.’

‘If they got caught, they’d swallow pills.’

‘And that’s exactly what they did.’

‘Yep...’

‘Couldn’t divorce have solved it all?’

‘It’s not that simple. If those two got divorced, not only will their marriage tumble down - Jungkook’s father’s corporation will also fall with it.’

‘It was a marriage of convenience. Namjoon became obsessed with Jungkook, and Jungkook fell for Hoseok.’

‘The trial took place this afternoon.’

‘What?.. I- What more have you kept from me?

‘Tae? Don’t you remember anything?’

‘Hyung.. What in the world are you talking about?’

‘That day we caught you driving Namjoon’s car away. Hoseok asked you to do that. Didn't he?’

‘Hyung.. What do you mean?

‘You helped them.’

‘I did?!’

‘Hyung is sorry, Tae.. I should have gotten you the help you needed. Then this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘DID.. You have DID. It was a week after the incident. You kept on acting strange. Sometimes you were the Tae I knew, sometimes you weren't,’ his sanity crawled out of his head.

‘Why didn't you tell me?’

‘I was scared.’

‘Bullshit.. I could have learnt how to control my symptoms, and this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘It’s not that easy, tae bear..’

‘Isn’t it better to try than not? That’s what you told me Hyung - the day father and mother died. We could have given up and died on the streets. But you said it yourself Hyung: We should at least try. It's better than dying.’

‘I’m sorry.. I thought I could help you.’

‘Are you a psychiatrist, Hyung?’

‘No..’

‘Sometimes I wish it was me who ended up with..’

‘Don’t speak such nonsense.’

‘I’m not an actual officer. Aren't I?’ the past shined on his eyes. His parents buried in fire as he screamed and cried to be saved - the faded scar scratching his leg burning  and fresh yet again. It made him squirm uncontrollably - guilty for having survived.

‘No.. You aren’t one. I just wanted you to be happy. So.. So... I- lied. All those cases I had discussed with you were fake.’

‘I’m sorry..’

‘Is this one fake too?’

‘No.. This one’s real.’

‘I’m sorry..’

‘Make it up to me by dropping me off at future counselling sessions to come. That’s all I need.’

‘How can you forgive me so easily?’

‘Because you’re my brother.’

‘That doesn't excuse my actions. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I should have stopped acting as though I knew what was best for you. You’re your own person. With your own judgement and perspective of life. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Hyung.. I would have been mad at you, if only you weren’t like this.’

‘It’s not everyday I meet someone like Jin Hyung.’

‘There’s news reports and broadcasts on the tv and internet regarding the case. If you want to know more that is.’

‘You wouldn’t have told me all of this if it weren't for that. Isn’t it?’

‘I’m an officer Tae. I can’t disclose information just like that. Even if you’re my brother.’

‘Well then. Hyungiee.. Buy me some ice cream. It’s getting hotter and hotter these days.’

‘Aish.. After listening to me talk about people dying, you’re still hungry for ice cream? You little bastard,’ giggles pierce through the air, shattering away the dome of apprehension that once surrounded the two brothers.

‘Oh Hyungiee..Who do you think I am?’ he sticks his tongue out in a playful manner.

‘My little brother.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘Ms.. are you awake?’ at the movement of my fingers, the nurse had assumed that I was starting to regain consciousness.

‘Why am I here?’

Frankly, I didn't remember what happened. It felt as though my memories had been put into a washing machine, cleaned off of the dirt it once contained.

‘Y/N..’

‘Jin.. Why am I here?’

‘You fainted from exhaustion.. Do you know how worried I was?’ he played along.

And if you are thinking that love somehow will blossom from all of that pretence, you are wrong. In this world my mind has created, Jin is my best friend.

One that if I haven't mentioned yet, is very much betrothed to the love of his life.

‘Yoongi,’ he called out.

And to the house labelled seven I entered.

‘Home?’ perhaps the comfort that doorway brought to me, led to this.

‘My love~~’ he’s still the same, flirty old Jin.

‘Ewwww.. Don’t! Ahhh.’

My saviour..

‘Y/Niee..’ he too was willing to sacrifice for me.

Home it truly would come to be. For I’d live there a good fifty years and more.

‘Y/nieeee,’ hugged by a human teddy bear I had been.

With grey hair and a barely functioning brain, Yoongi wasn’t the man he was years ago. Neither was I though.

‘I baked cookies for you,’ his smile is the same.

Taking the plate of cookies, warm against my fingers, I switched the television remote on with the other hand.

‘Kim Namjoon has been found dead this mor-’

‘Yoons..’ he had switched the tv off, a black screen staring right back at me.

‘He’s scary Y/Niee.. I don’t want to see him.’

Little did he know, I’ve regained my memories years ago - a few days after I moved in.

In the fictional version of this story. Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok were my two best friends who died in a car accident years ago. It was my way of coping with it all. Because to my brain, they were better remembered dead than having been scumbags who chugged a shovel at my back whilst smiling at me.

Perhaps the reason why I woke up seeing Jin as my best friend, is because those days where it was just me and Hoseok were the ones I longed for the most. Those days, before you came.

I’m happy with where I am now.

‘Fuck you,’ I cussed at your burial site, water running down my sides.

‘It always rains whenever we are together. Doesn’t it?’

‘Fuck you..’

Your smile.

Your laughter.

It fooled me..

For a second it did.

Bonus: