#wanderers library ocs

[banesberry-anomoly]

Another banger collab with @stellyfins 🔥

[sapphim]

if I really am going to start reverting bits of my canon worldstate back to how they were prior to 2020 then I have to reconsider if I want to have mahariel do that thing again where, instead of mercy killing tamlen when she encounters him as a ghoul near the dragonbone wastes, she instead pins him down and cries and begs and pleads until he agrees to give her a chance to fix things before he does anything drastic, and then makes the party immediately reverse course so she can drag him back to soldier's peak to make avernus see what he can do to help him. good idea? probably not but she's never known when to quit.

[zal-cryptid]

[researching-anomalies]

Really old WL art dump 3/3

Some art of my own AA, the Gatekeeper, causing mischief in the Library.

[dyke-terra]

PLEASE talk about your Alison Chao if you haven't already I would love to hear more about her

*rubs hands together excited*

I’m so glad you asked! First off, I’m everhue on the Wanderer’s Library site, and a lot of my thoughts here come from/are expressed in short stories I wrote there. Some of which got deleted because of the voting system, which is a large part of why I don’t post there anymore. Seemed like a waste. But I think are a few there.

To explain my Allison Chao(s)— I have three— I need to explain my interpretation of SCP Foundation lore, or at least the magic, Library, and multiverse lore.

In my interpretation of the world, there’s three ways to affect reality. There’s the normal, boring ways — with your hands, by talking to people, etc. Non anomalous. Follows predictable and literal rules. Then there’s magic, which follows more esoteric and metaphorical rules but is still relatively consistent. Anyone can do magic if they learn how, through performing rituals, chanting spells, using enchanted objects, etc. It’s more flexible than physics, but in order to do anything new, you need to build on what’s been done before. Basically sufficiently advanced and weird science. Your traditional dnd wizardry falls into this.

The third way is reality warping, which is entirely narrative based. You can’t trust anything to work twice, unless you can. Everything about reality warping is contextual. It’s chaotic and impossible to predict, unless it isn’t. If you’ve listened to Mabelpod, then that’s the vibe of reality warping to me. Some people are really good at convincing reality to do what they want, while other people make it harder to change the world around them thanks to their realness. I personally like the interpretation of Dr Clef where he’s a reality anchor and also separately likes to fuck with people.

These are less solid distinctions and more points on a spectrum. All magic actually originally comes from reality warping that’s been repeated enough— the narrative has solidified to the point where it’s just part of reality. All the science stuff and containment procedures are as much a way to tame the anomalous and then it into magic. So long as you follow the containment procedures— the rituals — then it won’t get out. This is also how the anomalous world manages to stay hidden despite the impossibility of keeping a secret that big — it’s a spell that everyone who stays up late at night paranoid is casting again and again.

So, coming to the Library. The Library isn’t a real place. It’s an idea. The platonic idea of a library, of home. The Serpent, which is also the Library, is simultaneously the most powerful reality warper and reality that’s been warped. I came up with this stuff before I read the Scholomance books by Naomi Novak, but there’s a lot of parallels there. Except there’s no dark secret with the Library— she’s basically the result of human yearning for knowledge and safety. She’s massive and infinite, but she also takes up no space at all. All that space is folded in on itself. The people that live in her are the realest part of her. The Ways are part of her, but also their own thing. They’re manifestations of the experience of travel, reality warped by the collective desire to just be there already. They can hypothetical take you to any universe within the infinite multiverse, but in practice, they don’t.

The multiverse is actually infinite, since enough people believe in that, but people’s conception of what infinity looks like is actually quite limited. For example, you might be able to conceive of a universe where humanity’s made it to space or where the South won the American Civil War or where you’re on Reddit instead of tumblr, but what about what you can’t concieve of? If the rules of physics weren’t what they are, what would reality look like? Every alien in fiction is in some way based on what life looks like on Earth, even if that’s through trying to be the opposite. If the multiverse is infinite, surely there must be universes we can’t understand. But how would you travel to somewhere that operates by different rules, narratively? You don’t usually. So universes tend to end up in constellations. Very very big constellations, don’t get me wrong, but everything that’s been written on the SCP foundation— save the stuff that so deeply contradicts the rest of this that it’s not worth trying to reconcile— is part of one constellation of universes.

Finally, we get to the idea of being multiversally common. I promise, we’re almost to Allison Chao. This is important, or at the very least, I enjoyed writing it out. Multiversally common is nearly synonymous with “narratively relevant,” but not always. If you’re familiar with the phenomenon of kinning, then the most multiversally common character in a work would be one that shows up on the most kin lists. You could make a religion out of this, probably, but I wouldn’t recommend it because it’d be a hassle. They’re also the characters that are most likely to be included in alternate universes or have fic about them. Obviously protagonists are going to be common, but there’s also other types. For example, if you’re going to write a DC comics Elseworlds miniseries about the end of the world to zombies or vampires, then you wouldn’t necessarily follow a character like John Constantine or Zatanna but they’d probably show up to say, “yeah, there’s some weird magic here.”

A lot of my thoughts on this, the ones that aren’t based in broader observations about the nature of narratives, come from the Black Queen hub. Namely, where it says “there is always.” That seemed unlikely to me, because surely if there’s an infinite multiverse, then there’s got to be worlds where there isn’t. So, multiversally common— there is always an Allison Chao in narratively relevant universes. She isn’t necessarily a reality warper as much as she is a manifestation of warped reality. Any individual Allison Chao might be real, but they’re also part of a broader story. Even their refusal to engage with the narrative is part of the narrative.

So finally, we get to mine. All three of them, actually. Allison Chao (Sparrow), Allison Chao (Checkers), and Allison Chao (the Reaper). Sparrow is the most similar to most people’s interpretations, I think. She has the forgetability hat, she’s known by LS and Black Queen to different people, she leads a splinter group of the serpent’s hand. She’s also a trans lesbian and kind of a tankie. She’s well read on Marxist theory and magic alike, although she prefers to use already enchanted objects, amulets, and charms rather than mess around and try to make things herself. She’s very focused on her own reality and Earth and has done a good job of adding to the collective Black Queen notes, even if visitors sometimes accuse her of bias. Her cell is also on the more aggressive side as far as Serpent’s Hand goes. She self identifies as a freedom fighter, others would label her a terrorist.

That’s true for almost all Serpent’s Hand groups, but in her case, it’s not entirely unfounded. She’s focused on the Foundation to the point of exclusion and is willing to negotiate with groups like MC&D, which her much less narratively important ex-girlfriend (and my oc) Quetzal, who leans much more towards anarchism and prefers to be more of a nuisance to every group defending the status quo rather than focus their energy on one group, calls her out for being a hypocrite about. Sparrow also only semi ironically kins the Doctor from Doctor Who. This was on Quetzal’s call out post too.

Checkers comes from me reading a few articles about Three Portlands and seeing off handedly mentioned that an Allison Chao was on the roller derby team. Three Portlands is kind of like the Library, except she’s both more and less tied to individual realities. There’s only one/three of her in any particular universe. Where the Library is another plane in periphery to every universe, any iteration of Three Portlands is a pocket dimension tied to the corresponding Earth at three points. It’s a college town. Checkers goes to Deer College for a post graduate degree. She’s transgender and bisexual. She’s also a Marxist-Leninist, but instead of doing terrorism, she publishes essays in various journals. She gets her anger out in roller derby. She travels the multiverse on occasion but mostly for research. She’s in a severe academic feud with a genuinely impressive number of alternate selves, including Sparrow, as well as half the academic anomalous community. She’s made out with the captain of the Global Occult Coalition’s school’s derby team. Autistic and bipolar.

The Reaper is a weird one, because she didn’t actually start life as an Allison Chao. She’s very VERY loosely based on a character from a YouTube series, since I liked some of the ideas explored but didn’t really feel comfortable with the creators. Her universe is the least like the “normal” SCP foundation setting. Her world is in an ambiguously historical setting, with most cities, towns, and buildings being vaguely medieval, but she frequently references modern literature that doesn’t make any sense in that context. She’s an anarchist and frequently quotes Proudhon, Bachunin, etc. She has the forgetability hat, but she mostly uses that for sneaking rather than in combat. She claims she found the Library by “getting lost,” although this doesn’t really make sense. She shouldn’t be able to access the Black Queen notes because she doesn’t have a computer. She does anyway. She’s a fairly powerful reality warper on account of (potentially deliberately) not realizing what she’s doing. She’s also an alchemist and writes surprisingly good romance novels. Arguably a terrorist. Trans girl and in at least five different homoerotic rivalries at any given times but not emotionally intelligent enough to notice. Probably gay, definitely ADHD and autistic.

Thanks for asking! It’s been too long since I’ve thought about them.

[vancilart]

yay baby

[rosemoncherie]

business affairs: t.wolff - series [OLD VERSION]

Chapter One: The Night Everything Began.

pairing: Toto Wolff x OC!Natalia Danon.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, age gap (Natalia is 32), talks of divorce, allusions to sexism, fast paced, explicit sexual scene, cunnilingus, slight dirty talk.

w.c: 4.04K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @bluesole16 @christinabae @aisharmi @hoziersfairy @queenzee27 @omgsuperstarg @lewisroscoelove @itsyagirlmeee @joviallljas @serpenttines-library @hrlzy @sugardontbesweet @tallrock35 @tian-monique @f1-hoff @peyiswriting @thewolffswife @mochiminimoni @bekindbecoolbeyou

KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA. 2022.

Natalia was exhausted but ultimately, she was hungry.

Very hungry.

She had rationalised that since she was already downstairs, going into the in-house restaurant was better than tracking all the way up her suite and ordering room service when she could hear the loud growling of her stomach.

Quickly, Natalia was seated and ordered some focaccia with an olive oil dip and a glass of Corton Charlemagne white wine. After a long day of meetings and conferences, a good glass of wine was desperately needed.

It had only been a couple of years since Natalia had been assigned to the position of Chief Financial Officer of Mercedes Benz. The youngest woman to ever be appointed to the role and unfortunately, the first black woman to ever hold that title for a top five company within the vehicle industry.

Natalia had been a finance protege. A master of her craft as some people would describe her and when her parents picked up on her affinity for numbers, they did everything possible to advance her career. And all the better for it as it led her to where was today.

She loved her job and despite all of the hardships and pushback that she had faced, no one and nothing was going to take that away from her.

That however, did not change the fact there were some days where the job had been strenuous on her mind and body. Hours on end speaking to people in seminars, overseeing a few upcoming projects and a lot of walking. The walking was the worst of it all as Natalia had chosen a beautiful pair of high heels typically made for a sitting situation. She had failed to anticipate just how much walking she would have had to partake in today.

Natalia hummed softly as she chewed on the dip soaked bread. After four hours, this was the first piece of nourishment she had after hours of sipping on only water. Her eyes wandered around her surroundings until they landed on a man.

Toto Wolff.

The CEO and team principal of the Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One team. A man who she held a lot of great respect for and he made it known whenever the both of them were in the same vicinity that the feeling was mutual. Toto staying in the same hotel as herself was not uncommon. Mercedes Benz and the Ritz-Carlton were in a long term partnership, hence they were able to stay in the luxurious hotel free of charge anywhere in the world.

A perk of the job.

Their eyes met and his face radiated a genuine smile. Quite the rare sight of the man. Natalia waved for him to come over and soon enough, Toto was being led towards her table. As soon as she stood up to greet him, the sleeves of her jersey slid back down her arms.

“Good to see you again.” Toto greeted her after a quick hug.

Natalia giggled as she sat back down with him pulling a chair close beside her. “We’ve seen each other a lot today.”

“That’s what happens when you work together.”

"Technically I am your boss, you work for me.

Natalia shot back which caused Toto to chuckle.

”You love pointing that out don’t you.” His right eyebrow lifted as he took in her facial features.

“Yes I want to make sure that you never forget it.”

“And I won’t.” His eyes trailed down to her glossed lips and settled there for a moment.

Toto licked his.

The action was subtle but Natalia caught it all. She took a deep breath as she reached for the menus.

”Are you ordering anything to eat or are you just here to keep me company?”

The question caused him to smirk. “Well. I had only come in, to a place an order to be delivered to my suite but now that I’m here I don’t see why I can’t do both. A late dinner in the company of a beautiful woman? You’d be a fool to decline that.”

His words and tone were laced with flirtation and Natalia hated herself for just how much it swayed her. You’d be an idiot to deny how attractive the man was. A tall giant at 6 feet 5 inches, slender yet muscular in all the places that counted. For a mature man like him, Toto kept himself physically agile and well groomed. Almost always clean shaved but his hair always ended up ruffled from the constant wear of headphones and how frequently he ran his fingers through the dark locks.

Outside of appearance, his charisma was extremely charming as intended. Toto knew how to talk to people and he knew how to make people feel comfortable around them. The addition of his accent to his voice, Natalia knew that trying to fight her attraction towards the recently divorced man was futile.

The pair ended up ordering the chef’s special along with the bottle of Corton Charlemagne. As they enjoyed their meal, the conversation was easy going. Natalia spoke for most of the time whilst Toto listened. He was interested in knowing about her life - only interjecting when he felt that his opinion was needed.

When the bottle of wine was finished, Natalia switched to drinking water. Her flight out of Malaysia was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon and she would rather still have control of her senses.

“I can’t believe you’re single though.” The words easily slipped out of her mouth before she could have stopped her harbouring thought. The topic of conversation had been on his previous marriage as it had been a diversion of attention from the status of Natalia’s love life. One could argue why her question was inappropriate to ask but curiosity had gripped her. When the divorce was announced at the tail end of 2021, people had been curious to know the reason. Nobody had thought that the power couple of motorsports would ever part ways.

Toto sighed. “As much as we tried to not let our marriage get in the way of her career, the stigma that she would always just be my wife and that everything she would accomplish would be attributed to our matrimony ultimately became too much to bear. Of course there were other issues that contributed to the divorce but that was a big one. At the end of the day it was the best decision for the both of us. She needed to grow and being with me was a hindrance to that. No matter how much I loved her, her growth as a leader and as a person was far more important to me.”

“Wow.” Nat whispered as she let his words sink in. He spoke with great candour and genuine care. She could still feel the love that Toto had for Susie but there was romantic fondness in his words. Just respect and adoration for his ex-wife.

Toto nervously chuckled as he scratched the top of his left eyebrow. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be talking about my ex with you.”

“No, no. That was deeply profound. It’s a shame things came to such an ending but I think the choice that the both of you came to was a good one. If that is any type of comfort.”

“It is.” Toto softly smiled as he played with the stem of his wine glass. “It’s taken some time to get used to that but I’m getting there.”

”That’s good.”

That particular conversation ended there. Things were getting too deep and personal for either of their liking.

“No more talk about past relationships.” Toto said as he reached for the wine selection menu. However, Nat reached forward and placed her hand on his wrist to stop him.

“No more drinking for me. I need to head up to bed. My flight is tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving so soon?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I need to get to London by Friday. INEOS moved their meeting up to then instead of the agreed Wednesday the following week.”

“That could be because Jim is coming to London around that time.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t change the fact that multiple people, me included, are now having to re-arrange our schedules because Radcliffe is an impatient old man.” Natalia complained as she rolled her eyes. A move that made Toto laugh as he placed the menu down.

“How about I walk you up to your room then?” He volunteered.

Her back straightened up and she lightly cleared her throat. “Yes. Please.”

Ever the gentleman, Toto put the bill of the meal on his room tab instead of Natalia having to share the cost. All the way to her suite, Toto had kept her smiling and giggling and it made her sick just how down her guard was. She couldn’t even blame it on alcohol.

All night, the crush she had for the man beside her had been festering and now it was at a fever’s pitch. Being in his presence for such a long time, alone, had her mind thinking of things that she shouldn’t.

They stood outside of her suite’s door, key card in hand with her back to the frame. At her full height, her forehead was still barely touching his chin. Toto was looking down at her with a soft glimmer of something in his eyes that she couldn’t deny.

”Would you like to come in? I have a full bar if you want to continue drinking. If not, I have something else in mind to offer.” Nat chewed on her bottom lip as she left the suggestion lingering in between them.

”If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you were trying to seduce me with that offer.” Toto expected her to claim that she was just joking and to walk away from the suggestion. Proclaim that she had just been joking and that the rising sexual tension in between them up to this point had been a figment of his imagination.

Instead, Natalia stood on her tip toes and tipped her head upwards until her lips were close to his. Just a breath’s reach.

She held his gaze. “What if I am?”

The energy had immediately shifted. Toto did not give her a verbal agreement as the door closed behind the both of them. He turned her around so that her back was touching his chest. Natalia’s moan vibrated in her throat as he moved her hair out of the way of her right shoulder. A sigh left her as his mouth touched her skin. His hands pulled her tucked in jersey out of her skirt until he was able to lay his hands onto her bare skin beneath the knitted fabric.

His hand clutching onto her top, he instructed Natalia to strip out of her skirt. And in quick succession, her clothes were on the floor.

“Fuck.” Toto said as he swallowed his thirst. If it wasn’t for the fact that her panties had been already soaked, the way his eyes roved hungrily over her body would have had her gushing more than she already was.

Natalia enjoyed his reaction to her. His lust was palpable as she unhooked her bra from her chest and let it join her clothes on the floor. She then hooked her thumbs into the sides of her thongs but before Nat could do anything else, Toto grabbed a hold of her wrists.

“No. Get on the bed.”

As her knees touched the duvet, Toto stood behind her as he dragged his fingers down the length of her spine before both of his hands dug into her ass cheeks, parting them softly. The cool air touched her nether lips which caused her to lightly gasp.

“Oh!” Natalia whimpered as he roughly handled her body. She was now on her back with a shirtless Toto hovering above her. He kissed her with all his might, with all of his pent up desire translating into the way that his lips modded over her. She opened her mouth to the intrusion of his sweet tongue laced with the wine of dinner into her mouth. Natalia dug her nails into his back as the kiss deepened. She wrapped her leg around his waist as she tried to anchor herself as his hardening erection pressed against her lower stomach.

Toto’s hands moved away from her hips until he was cupping the back of her neck, pulling her close until her teeth were sinking into his bottom lip and she was pulling it into her mouth. Natalia gasped into Toto’s mouth as he pressed his lips harder into hers before sucking on her tongue.

She couldn’t stay still as he continued to kiss her like this. Her hips rotated forward, trying to to create some type of friction to ease the ache residing deep in the pit of her stomach.

“Let me taste you.” Toto mumbled against her lips. His voice was as heavy with arousal as his cock that was pressing into her. Not waiting for her answer, she struggled to catch her breath as he pulled her panties down the length of her shapely legs. When the fabric was over his shoulder, her legs instinctively parted and Toto was rewarded by the sight of her drenched cunt.

“I knew you’d be soaked. You kept squirming in your seat at dinner.” His words shocked her a little but she wasn’t rattled at his observation. Toto ran his finger along her slit and without breaking their intenseful gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked his finger clean

”So sweet. Just as I thought you would be.” With her left knee hooked into his arm, he buried his face in between her thighs as he gave her lazy strokes of his tongue against her clit. Natalia gasped as her back arched off the bed as he continued giving her languid strokes of his tongue, which was moving up and down the length of her slit. Toto was eating her pussy with so much intention, it sent shocks of pleasure up her spine.

His movements were meticulously calculated, every time that he did something that garnered a reaction out of her, Toto played on that until Natalia was gasping for air. He licked, pulled and sucked on her pussy until she was clawing at the sheets beneath her trembling body.

”Oh shit!” She gasped as he covered her now sensitive nub with his tongue and softly pushed to fingers inside of her, sliding them in and out of her, increasing the speed and pressure of his movements until he felt Nat’s thighs begin to quake on each side of his head.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Natalia cursed as she felt a familiar pressure mount in her lower abdomen. She tried to jerk away from him but Toto kneaded his free hand into her thigh, trapping her in place as he became more insistent to drink from her. He flicked his fingers against her spot, his tongue danced on her clit.

Then she exploded into his mouth.

Her legs trapped his body in between her thighs as her body twitched with each wave passing through her. Natalia’s head was still in the clouds as she finally relaxed to set him free. His hands trailed back up the length of her body and kneaded her breasts as his kisses followed up until his lips were against hers once more.

His lust clouded his eyes, Drinking from her, bringing her to climax, made him more ravenous. He wanted to devour her. The intention to do so very much made clear as he haphazardly threw his trousers and boxer briefs off. He held her hips as she tried to calm himself enough to let her reach for the strip of condoms that were on the bedside table.

He couldn’t put it on quickly enough as Natalia placed kisses on his chin and her hands on his back.

Toto sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he raised Nat’s leg to his shoulder before he finally made his move and sank into her pussy. Just as the tip breached her entrance, they both lost their breath due to the feeling of being connected.

“Baby.” She exhales as he completes the stroke by thrusting all the way forward and holding himself there.

“I know schatz. I know.” He groaned into her ear.

After fantasising about this very moment, for months on end, Toto concluded that nothing was better than the real thing. Yet somehow his mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. All that he could think about was how soft she was.

She was so soft. So sweet. So warm. So tight, warm and deliciously wet.

She fit him like a glove and he could feel as much as he could through the protective sleeve. Toto moved slightly which caused Nat to let out a cry.

“Please move. Please.” She whimpered into his ear.

He soon found a rhythm of slow , methodic strokes as he folded her body into itself. Her silk press began to revert back to its natural curls, the longer he worked her body into a sweat. Natalia’s lips parted with a sigh as he placed her other leg onto his shoulder and hooked his arms beneath hers and held onto her shoulders.

”Oh my god!” Natalia struggled for breath as his body slammed against the back of her thighs. The sexy sounds of their pleasure reverberated through the room.

”That’s it isn’t it schatz? That’s the spot.” He taunted her as he hammered his tip against your walls. He grinned as he saw the internal struggle to conjure up a response. He didn’t tease her too much though.

Toto himself was failing to contain his restraint from just how tightly Natalia was clutching onto him with each stroke. It was making him lightheaded as she threatened to drown him with just how soaked she was. He felt himself slipping into mindless pleasure as his thrusts became harder and more frantic.

It was only when he felt Nat’s leg beginning to tremble against his shoulders and his stomach began to tighten did Toto slow down. Natalia whined as she shifted her hips up to tempt him.

However, he didn’t fall for it.

Instead, he let her legs fall away from his shoulders but he still made sure that they were wrapped around his waist. His forearms dropped on either side of her head as his chest pressed into hers. Natalia’s hardened nipples tickled his skin as he rolled his hips as deep as she possibly could take him. He coupled his slow, deep thrusts with a circular motion, making sure that he touched every part of her that he could.

He hummed softly as he drew little cries from Natalia. He swallowed her moans and every sound that he could. They were only his - just for the night. For however long she would allow.

Natalia could feel resolve disappear from his frantic kisses and touches. The slapping of his thighs against her skin echoed in the room. The contact pinched at their skin in a bittersweet manner, the harsher the pounding became. But Nat took it all in stride.

His hand around her neck was the last straw.

She exploded around him without warning.

“That’s it baby.” He kissed the underside of her ear.

“Cum all over this dick.”Her teeth sunk into the skin of his shoulder as she let the orgasm ride her body. The repeated contraction of her walls pulled Toto down even further.

“Fuck!” He hissed in Nat’s ear as her cunt tightly squeezed his dick until he filled the condom with his seed.

They stayed in the same position for a moment before he pulled out of her. Nat sighed as she watched him dispose of the condom and pull his underwear back up his legs. His eyes followed him as he entered the bathroom and then came out with a wet cloth.

After grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, he came back to the bed and cleaned her up in silence. Natalia sighed with a smile on her face, loving the way his hands were handling her so delicately as if he wasn’t roughly gripping her flesh as he fucked into her minutes ago.

”Drink your water.” He mumbled before placing a kiss onto her thigh. Natalia giggled as she reached for the water bottle.

“Yes sir.” She teased as she took a gulp of the refreshing liquid.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” He asked as he began to place kisses on her torso before stopping to take a nipple into his mouth. Natalia gasped as her eyes flattered close to enjoy the feel of his warm mouth sucking on her nipple like she had been sucking on her clit earlier on in the night.

“3pm why?” Nat said, only able to answer when he moved his attention to her other nipple.

”I want to take you again … and again …” He spoke as he began to tower over her body. “And again. Until you’re so spent that I’m all you think about for days to come.”

His lips touched hers again as his body pushed her back into the disheveled sheets …

PRESENT DAY

”I want to take you again … and again … and again. Until you’re so spent that I’m all you think about for days to come.”

Those words were now haunting her as she sat at her desk. Of all the things Toto Wolff had ever said and done to her, these particular words haunted her the most.

Because of just how devastatingly true they were. No man after that had come close to how he had made her feel that night. A couple had come close but it was never the same.

It could never be the same.

When she left Malaysia the following afternoon, it had not occurred to her that it would be the last time that she would see Toto. Both of their respective careers kept them busy. The previous season of Formula One had overwhelmed him. The last year had not been kind to the team. The sport had not been kind to the team and it was beginning to show in the numbers.

All of that had led to this moment. Natalia was in her office with the reports of the team’s previous financial year and the CEO asking her for an incredible favour.

“It’ll only be for a couple of months.” He said.

“Six months is hardly a couple, Chris.” Chris Stevenson chuckled at the statement.

“You’re right but I need someone I can trust to go over there and oversee things.”

“And why couldn’t Tomlinson do it?” Oliver Tomlinson was the current Chief Operating Officer of the company and from the last she heard, Oliver and Toto were friends.

“You’re better with numbers. Two, you did Physics so I’m sure you understand the technical jargon better.”

Natalia frowned at the reasonsing. “I did Physics when I was like eighteen.”

“Doesn’t matter. Plus Wolff only agreed to do this if it was you.”

”Why?”

“I don’t know. A deep respect for you I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You guess?!” She sassed back and placed her hands on her waist.

”You know what I mean! Look, why are you opposing this? Do I need to know something?”

”No!” Natalia knew that she had said that a little too quickly for her liking. “I’m not opposing it for what you think. You’re basically asking me to audit the team just because they had a couple of bad years.”

“Two bad years with no titles, two bad cars, a shift in leadership and a few lost sponsors. All of that translates to a bad investment. And a bad investment means no money and no money means-.’

”Okay! I got the message.” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in surrender.

“Wolff is not happy about this and quite frankly I don’t care. We need to get to the bottom of this before the season begins.”

Natalia was going to be Toto’s boss for six months. She could barely think of him without remembering the way he had ravished her that night. Now she had to work with him everyday for the next half year.

Fuck me. She thought to herself

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 3

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Dirty thoughts, bit of dirty talk. More lusting. 😁

Word Count: 2,064

A/N: Here's Ch. 3. This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you enjoy it just the same! ❤️

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"Miss Y/N!" The frustrated voice of little Lucy Winchester called Y/N back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Lucy, my mind was off on a wander. What do you need?"

"I said my laces are untied." Lucy said, lifting her little foot and plunking it into Y/N's lap. "Where was your mind wandering?"

Y/N's face went red and she knew she could never truthfully tell this darling, innocent little girl that her thoughts had been completely occupied with a pair of burning green eyes and a wicked mouth.

"I was hoping that you might go gather as many daisies as you possibly could for me. There's a big patch of them just at the bottom of the hill, see?"

Lucy nodded and ran off, her chubby little legs churning. Y/N worried for a minute that she'd end up going head over heels down the little hill. But she managed to stay upright and settle herself in the patch of daisies to start collecting.

Y/N had to shake her head. She had been reliving the previous night over and over again. Every touch, every press of Dean's lips against hers had been streaming through her mind without ceasing. Her dreams had been filled with his strong, nimble fingers running themselves over her body and his mouth, warm and wet, following the trail. She had woken with a gasp, her body sweaty and shaking. She didn't even try to go back to sleep. She was too jittery and tense, like there was an itch she couldn't scratch.

She'd been restless all day and she'd finally suggested to Lucy that they come outside and get some fresh air. It wasn't helping her very much.

She bowed out of supper that night. There was no way she would be able to sit across the table from Dean and still manage to eat anything. Sophie was kind enough to bring a tray to her bedroom, but Y/N simply didn't have the appetite.

She had come to a decision and she was desperate for midnight to come.

At the last chime of the grandfather clock in the hall, Y/N checked on Lucy before slipping out of the nursery and heading down the stairs to reach the guest bedroom where Dean was staying.

She was grateful that Jessica and Sam slept in a suite on the opposite side of the house upstairs. They were unlikely to hear her. She'd already decided that if they happened to catch her, she would tell them she couldn't sleep and had gone to the library for a book.

But she met no one as she approached Dean's door. She looked around furtively in the dark, making sure no one was watching. She stood for a moment more, considering turning around and running right back to her room. But instead she knocked almost silently on the door.

It opened and she dashed inside without even looking at Dean. She got to the middle of the spacious room and stopped. She heard the door click behind her and turned around to see Dean leaning against it. He turned the key in the lock and she swallowed hard.

He wore black pants with the suspenders hanging at his hips and a white short sleeved undershirt that hugged tight to his broad shoulders, and showed Y/N the thick, ropey muscles in his arms. His hair was tousled and a little damp as though he'd just washed it. He wore his crooked smile and his eyes bore into her from across the room. They were so dark a green they looked like jade. He had his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the door and Y/N knew that she would picture him like this, always.

"I didn't think you'd come." He said, his voice a low, quiet rumble. He pushed away from the door and came to where she stood, frozen in place.

He studied her for a minute, his head cocked slightly to the side before stepping away abruptly. "You need alcohol."

He crossed over to his dresser; on top, a few decanters of different colored liquids sparkled in the candlelight.

Y/N shook her head. "I don't drink."

He poured something golden into a glass and brought it to her. "Well, it's a night for firsts." He said, smiling slowly as he handed her the glass.

Y/N swallowed hard before taking a sip of the drink. She promptly broke into a fit of coughing. The alcohol felt like swallowing fire. After the coughing ceased however, Y/N could feel a steadying kind of warmth spreading through her stomach and she took another sip, gasping as it burned its way down her throat.

She gave the remainder back to Dean and turned away from him, moving to sit on the window seat that faced his bed as well as the door beyond it. She tried to ignore the bed and focus on the door.

Dean set the glass back down and walked toward her again. She held up a hand and he stopped about two feet away from her. She took a deep breath.

"I've come here because I have a favor to ask."

He crossed his arms again and stared down at her. "I thought you were here because I won the bet."

"That's right." Y/N said, her breath hitched in her throat. "I lost and you requested that I come here tonight at midnight. So, I am here, and my debt is paid."

She chanced a look at him. He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then suddenly, he chuckled. "You're right. I'll have to make sure my next request is very…detailed."

His expression made her shiver and her body screamed at her to ask him for his next request. So she spoke quickly before her wantonness could win over her better nature.

"So, my favor is this, if I tell you that you've won, will you stop trying to seduce me?"

Dean looked surprised and took a moment before answering her with a question. "What do you mean, 'if you tell me I've won'?"

Y/N looked down at her twisted hands in her lap. "I mean that you're doing this as a game, yes? Doing it to see if you can win over the proper little spinster, if you can convince me to abandon my morals and give into hedonism with you? Isn't that what you want?"

In spite of her stomach twisting itself into knots she held Dean's penetrating gaze. She watched surprise and then anger creep into his expression.

"No, not really." He said, his voice low and somewhat intimidating.

Y/N gave him a disbelieving look, her voice scornful. "Oh, really? Then what exactly do you want."

He strode up to her and tipped up her chin with his forefinger. He spoke slowly, but without hesitation. "Actually, what I want, is to pull off these clothes that hide you from me, toss you onto my bed and touch, kiss and lick every inch of your soft, yielding flesh until I have you calling out my name and begging for a release only I can give you."

Y/N's breath came quick and fast, and she couldn't slow it down; her heart beat so fast she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Her skin was flushed and covered in gooseflesh, and her stomach tightened in a way that made her long to acquiesce to every word he just said.

His eyes were now a deep forest green and they bore into hers for a moment more before he shrugged and moved back to lean against one of his bedposts. "You wanted details."

Y/N shook her head and brought her hands, which were like ice, to her cheeks to cool the fiery blush that she now wore.

"Please." She said, aware that she sounded as if she was begging, and maybe she was. "I have nothing."

She raised her eyes back to his, hoping to make him understand.

"I am nearly twenty six years old. I am very firmly on the shelf, I know, well past marriageable age. But there is this ridiculous part of me that can't stop hoping."

She sighed and looked back down at her lap. "I want a home of my own, children that are mine to raise, and a husband who is kind and compatible. But in addition to my spinsterhood, I would come into any marriage with absolutely nothing to offer. I have no status, no money, no dowry of any kind, no good name, no position in society. I have nothing to offer a future husband except…" She paused and blushed harder. "…my…virtue. All I have to give him is my chastity. It's all I have left."

She looked back into his eyes, wanting him to understand the truth in her words. "But you want me to throw that away on someone who will be gone in less than a week. You will forget me in a day, and I will live with the consequences of this one night for the rest of mine. So…"

She paused again and took a deep breath. "So, I came here tonight to tell you that you have won. You have made me dream about you, fantasize about you. You've made me long to kiss you, you've made me understand just what a kiss should be. My skin is always on fire and longing to feel your touch."

Y/N looked into Dean's clear, warm gaze and admitted, "I want you, Dean. I want you to do all the things you just mentioned, and a million more things that are only half-formed in my mind. So you win. And now I'm asking you to please respect my wishes and stop. Pass these last few days with your family and allow me to go about my life."

Dean was silent for a long time, head cocked and staring into her. Y/N held his gaze as long as she could before the intensity was too much and she turned her head away.

Dean came and sat beside her on the window seat and she jumped up and bolted away from him, out of instinct, out of self-preservation.

Dean looked hurt. "Do you really think I'm going to attack you, or molest you in some way?"

She shook her head fiercely. "No! Not in the slightest. If that was the kind of man you were, you've had plenty of opportunities before tonight." She shook her head again, "No, Dean. I am afraid of myself when you're so close. I'm afraid I'll attack you."

Dean gave a small smile. "You can't possibly believe what you're saying. You can't possibly think that your virginity is all you have to offer some unknown future husband."

Y/N merely shrugged.

Dean stood up and moved a step toward her. Y/N took two steps backwards towards the door.

He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine, Y/N. If you don't want to be pursued, I won't pursue you. I'll leave you alone, you have my word. But I want you to remember something long after I'm gone from here."

He walked forward a few more steps and Y/N backed herself up against the door. He reached her and caught her chin in his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. The perfect planes and angles of his face were set into an expression of intensity.

"You have so much more to offer. You are extraordinarily beautiful. You are witty and warm. You have a kind and compassionate heart. You deserve something more than a compatible husband and a cottage somewhere. You deserve more than mere contentment."

He paused and brushed his thumb lightly across her bottom lip. "You deserve passion and romance. You deserve joy and excitement, adventure and enrichment. You should live in luxury, and have a life that fulfills you. I wish all of those things for you and more."

He leaned down and pressed an all too brief kiss to Y/N's lips, before reaching around her to turn the key and open the door for her.

She ran out and up the stairs before she could wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to grant all of those wishes for her.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

[little-mouse-gardens]

Yandere vampire rottmnt au concept/idea

A rottmnt au that popped up in my head (romantic)

Warning: Mentions of violence, blood, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, kidnapping (I do not condone this behavior in real life. I Do not condone anyone to do any of these actions in real life. this is only for entertainment purposes only.

I don’t normally do character x reader writing (mostly because I’m not great at it) I mostly do character x oc stuff.

However I got a random idea for yan vampire turtles au idea?

Thought about this a day or two ago and got some great ideas on discord. Saying thank you and Crediting at @lexiechr and @astral--horrorshow for inspiring some of my ideas!

Reader is an upcoming mystery thriller novel writer seeking inspiration for the next book they want to write who moves into the local village far, far away from the city.

Reader Hear legends about vampires and decided they want to stay a little while longer to write their novel and see what All the fuss is about and one night while they are out and about on some late night errand.

The turtles (separately) spot them and instantly fell in love with their personality, the way their eyes sparkle with emotions and the way they spoke. Making them want to make reader their bride. To love and to cherish them in their castle for the rest of eternity no matter who gets in the way. Suddenly reader notices strange things occurring around them that are quite hard to ignore.

- a local bookkeeper reader was talking to the other day? Suddenly disappears and is later found in the river. The only calling card being the turtles family name emblem carved into the bookeepers flesh. A dire warning to stay away.

- The turtles visiting reader outside their cozy cottage at night, talking with them. Trying to sweet talk them into letting them in and being theirs with equally sweet promises of love and anything reader desires. Though reader is clever enough to not let them in.

- the villagers suddenly being extra nice to reader. Offering them free things to them, letting them have special privileges, life is made easier for them. It’s very confusing to reader, but the villagers know they have to unless the turtles decide to go after them.

Reader, after another string of vampire based murders and disappearances, does their research on each of the turtles and discovers more information about them based on the emblem. Wandering into the local library one late evening and finding a book on them.

The turtles are a bloodline of vampires that dated back for many years.

- Raphael, dubbed as the brawn’s of his brothers and the most feared by the town. Actively known to hunt down and brutally maul people and livestock. Occasionally steals soft things like fabrics and plushies. However he is the only one recorded to have actually spared some peoples life

- Leonardo, the charmer. Everyone in town knows his tricks, he charms and flirts with his victims before delivering the finale blow. Has been known to enter the local tavern when it’s not busy, or even steal from local tailors and jewelers to buy new shiny expensive things to add to his collection or himself.

- Donatello the mad scientist. The second most feared. His methods are simple, grab and torture his prey with his experiments in his laboratory. Villagers will not hesitate to give him the things he needs and or wants for his inventions. Leaving them outside their homes at night in an effort to get him to leave them alone.

- Mikey the artist, he will use his victims blood to decorate the streets with messages to taunt those who don’t give him what he wants. Sweet but not unwilling to cause mass chaos. Every craft store and bakery will always find something missing by morning, and sometimes he will leave different paintings on the walls of the town as a reward for their offerings.

Then, reader leaves the library that night, they are kidnapped by the turtles (separately) and brought back to their castle to be their partner for life. Promising to make them immortal, to give them all the love and joy they possibly can and making the clear vow that they won’t escape them.

However reader is clever and determined to find their way out. Even if it means playing along for now.

- Forcing themselves to Cuddle with raph and accepting his gifts and tokens of affection

- letting Leonardo shower them in compliments, dolling them up in silks and jewels while they compliment him on his attributes

- listening to Donnie speak of his inventions and praising his genius no matter how diabolical it may seem

- painting with Mikey, eating all the treats and snacks he makes them while he paints their portrait

The ultimate sacrifice for reader, other than their freedom, is to let the turtles have a taste of their blood and agreeing to be their partner for life. The turtles (separately) are much more gentle with reader, or at least they try to be.

- they’ll make sure reader comfortable. Each turtle (separately) will praise them for being brave and shower reader with compliments, cuddles, gifts after they finish. Soft blankets, their favorite snack or comfort food, a nice warm bath scented with flowers. Name it and reader can have it so long as the turtles get a taste.

Each yan vampire turtle has a different wing in their castle. Each with a specific set of theme colors and decor. Each place being huge, full of secrets for reader to uncover and secret entrances for them to potentially use so long as they don’t get caught.

Leonardo’s wing = Soft blues. Golds and silvers. Jewels encrusted everywhere you go, silks arranged around as if you were walking through a kings palace. So many drapes and screens that make it very Easy to hide what isn’t meant to be see. All the jewels and fine clothes for him to dress reader in. To shower them with compliments and sweet promises, making sure that his beloved will never want to go looking for the secret passages in the castle

Donatellos wing of the palace = Reader never dares to get to deep into his Lab, lest they find the many remains of the missing villagers turned into something sick and twisted. Donatello prefers to keep his beloved partner close to his side, showering them with endless gadgets and gizmos to impress them. Keep them distracted and their interest away from his sources of food and morbid curiosity that would put victor Frankenstein to shame.

Raphael’s wing = His halls are expansive, almost never ending. A place for the brute of the vampire brothers to wander at ease, lest his rage be incited. Rooms full of soft things and others full of little objects he collects. Objects he will gladly show and shower reader with if it means they’ll stay with him as his bride for all eternity.

Mikey’s wing = All down the halls, throughout every room reader will find art of all kinds. All of which he painted, sculpted and crafted himself with delicate yet skilled hands. He will spoil the, with all the beautiful sights and delicious smells. How can they search for the secret corridors out if they’re too distracted by Mikey’s art and him forcing them to sit for another portrait or sculpture? Or making them try all the fine delicious foods and drinks?

Most of the time reader is able to get alone time, which would be when they leave at night. Though occasionally one will stay behind to watch them, reader mostly spends their time in the ornate guest room or exploring the shadowy halls of the old castle.

Using their clever mystery novelist mind to come up with plans of escape. Writing down things about their captors and potential routes of escape in a journal they keep under a floorboard beneath their bed.Reader is kept in the highest point in the castle. That Overlooks the village and forested mountains below. Reader can only see their freedom from a distance while they bide their time.

Now, if reader managed to escape? All hell would break loose. Reader running for their life and packing any important belongings to get out of town while the loud roars and shouts of the turtles don’t linger too far behind.

- Raphael wouldn’t hesitate to reign destruction upon the village in a blind panic rage. Demanding his beloved be returned to him unless this whole town gets stomped down to the ground.

- Leonardo who is portaling to every corner of the town and nearby woods to get his beloved home safely or even threatening to portal the villagers into the gator infested swamps and wolf infested forests unless someone spills the details.

- Donatello who actively starts torturing people until someone gives him answers on where his darling went to

- Mikey who is literally using his powers to tear apart houses and farms looking for his lover

No place is left unturned, and it wouldn’t shock reader if the villagers came hunting after them to bring them back or snitched about their where about’s and to be honest, reader couldn’t blame them either.

Once and if reader is brought back to them, they are never let out of their sight if they can help it. If reader wasn't smothered before, they’ll definitely be smothered now and the wedding date will be bumped up closer from a year to a few months time.

Anyways, that’s just my random take on it. Hope you guys enjoy!

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note ●May be typos in this one. I got lazy and sleepy. Anyway hope yall enjoying these world building ass chapters. The juicy stuff is coming soon....hehe. Also the timeline is more so accurate to the books. The show timeline is ALL over the place. So I'm following book births etc.

Word Count ~ 3k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ● viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

iii ~ 'Liar'

123 AC

Visenya had sat in the library, in which she had garnered quite a few looks from the servants and maester’s which occasionally wandered through the shelves. She sat before a large hearth, her eyes narrowed upon the pages of the book she clutched so tightly. How utterly boring, she thought.

The princess wasn’t sure what desire led her to steal Aemond’s book, she wasn’t even sure what she was looking for as she scanned its pages hastily. She sighed, rising to her feet quickly as she decided to continue scouring its pages when she had little else to do.

As the day went on, Visenya had spent her afternoon with her brothers; Jacaerys & Lucerys - she watched as they trained with their swords. She smiled; her eyes gleaming as she watched the two ebony haired boys sparring amidst the grey bricks of the training yard. Visenya had always had a fond relationship with her younger brothers, frequently getting up to her most infamous hijinks with them at her side. They were not without their squabbles; especially given the many times she had weaved her way out of trouble by blaming the wide eyed boys. After all, they were younger than her, much less likely to receive any hard punishment, why not use it to her advantage from time to time?

She had recalled how upon sneaking into the maester’s quarters to ravish through the various odd ingredients and tonics. Visenya had somehow knocked one several of the more elusive concoctions from their shelves. Of course, Rhaenyra was all but indignant at her daughter, as whispers of the young princess sneaking through the halls spread throughout the Keep. However, all Visenya needed to do was smile sweetly at her mother and claim it was actually small, innocent Lucerys’ who had done the deed; and just like that, she had suddenly been praised by her mother for taking the blame for her young brother.

“GET UP!” The shrill voice her brother Jacaerys rang, Visenya shook her head, regaining focus. The sudden cries of their youngest brother filling the yard, her eyes widened at the scene, the small prince sat upon the floor, holding his head.

Visenya rose to her feet, making her way quickly to the two princes’ as she saw the small trickles of blood down Lucerys forehead.

“He is an utter babe.” Jace scoffed, dropping the wooden sword before folding his arms in resistance, he had been in a most tempestuous mood of late, Visenya noted how troubled he seemed. Always brooding, arguing. More and more questions seemed to arise everyday regarding their true father. Though their mother claimed it was Ser Leanor, all knew her brothers were fathered by another. Afterall, House Targaryen & Velaryon were both of Valyrian blood, how is it the boys did not inherit any features of such. The only defining trait being their dragon riding blood and of course… wild nature. However, none disputed Rhaneyra’s was indeed their mother, but as for Ser Leanor being their true father? Well, that was another matter…

Lucerys’s face coiled at his brother insult, fire sparking in the young boy’s eyes as he lunged for Jace’s legs. Suddenly the two had managed to wrestle each other to the ground, “YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Luke wailed.

“TIS THE TRUTH!” Jace struggled to speak as his little brother managed to wind him. Visenya rushed forward, half laughing at their foolish antics. Suddenly her hands grappled at Jace’s gambeson, pulling him off Luke.

“Enough!” She exclaimed.

“Get off!” Prince Jacaerys scoffed, flailing his arms as he struggled free from his sister’s grasp, his eyes found Visenya’s, a brutal glare exchanged between the two siblings, Jace lowered his head.  

Visenya looked down to her younger brother, her hand extending before her as she helped the small dark haired prince to his feet. Gently her fingers pushed back the mop of curls upon his head, her eyes widening as she saw the small yet reddened cut, tears of blood oozing down the side of his face.

“He hit me with the sword!’ Lucerys pointed at his older brother, Visenya turned her head, Jace’s face angered once more.

“You weren’t trying to defend yourself!” Jace snapped back.

The princess shook her head, exasperated, “So you hit him with a bloody sword?” she sneered at her brother.

“Tis made of wood! He is putting it on… just look at him!” Prince Jacaerys’ once again coiled with a familiar rage, he huffed, turned swiftly as he began to storm away. Visenya walked after him, her legs frolicking slightly as she her hand hurriedly grabbed her brother’s wrist.

“Jace!” Visenya’s tone stern yet, a sudden worry fell over her as he simply stood still, his back facing her. The princess moved closer, slowly turning her brother by his shoulders. “Brother...something is clearly troubling you, so, out with it.” She raised her brow.

“Tis nothing.” He said sharply.

“Liar.” The princess moved closer, analysing him, “I can see it in your eyes. You’re upset.”

“I am not upset!” His voice harsh as a chord was struck within him.

Visenya laughed softly, her gaze smug as she took his little hardened face. Something endeared her by her younger brother’s ferocity, though he was but a boy, he had no qualms with fighting if need be, “Clearly.” She chuckled smugly.

Another moment passed as they looked at each other in silent, Jacaerys’ gaze weakened for a moment, he wished to tell his sister… wished to tell her how the talk of him and his brothers being bastards ate at him. Though he remained silent and then, ripped himself away from his sister’s gentle grasp. “Just leave me be.” His tone low.

With that, Prince Jacaerys turned once more, walking away with haste. Visenya sighed, a part of her longed to go after him, yet she knew in his own time he would come to her. The princess then walked back to Lucerys, gently taking his hand. “Let us find a Maester.” Her voice flat with frustration.

“No, I shall be… fine.” The small boy said. Visenya squinted, her expression tempering at the sight of his acquitted demeanour. The Princess, much like her mother, seemingly had a soft spot for her second youngest brother. He was far more docile than Jace, far more transparent in his uncertainty of the world. Though, Visenya oft saw the potential in Luke, those wide eyes much like hers able to be used in order to weave his way out of mischief. A trait they both shared, a trait which melted her heart. He was so much like her in many ways.

She tilted her head as she replied tenderly, “Sweet brother…” Visenya leaned down slightly, her eyes narrowing, “You do not have a choice, I fear.”

“But- “Luke began to speak once more before Visenya forced her hand over his mouth.

She bent down, peering roguishly into her young brother’s eyes. “I am much larger than you, do not force me to take you in my arms, little brother.” A flicker of a smile came upon her face as she took her hand away. Lucerys giggled softly, and the two walked arm in arm to the maester’s chambers.

●

Upon hearing about her son’s squabble in the training yard, the Princess Rhaneyra was furious, yet it had been Visenya to convince her mother to refrain from punishing Jacaerys on the terms she herself get the young prince to apologise to his brother.

Visenya entered Jace’s quarters quietly, all the years of sneaking around the Keep finally being put to good- willed use. Her eyes instantly caught her younger brother’s dark locks as he sat upon the side of his bed, his head lowered to the ground, soft sniffles filled his quiet chambers.

“Brother?” She said softly. The prince’s head turned slowly, his eyes scanning her, and he sighed.

“Did mother send you?” Jace’s voice was laced with a melancholy unlike what Visenya had ever heard.

“On the contrary, it was I who convinced her to send me. Her initial impulse was far more tyrannical.” The princess chuckled softly as she sat beside her young brother, she nudged him, garnering a small response as he smiled.

“Since when are you the type for good deeds, sister?” Jace teased.

“I’m not. This is no good deed, how am I supposed to make my usual mischief if one of my primary accomplice’s is spending his days brooding?” She tilted her head, teasing back.

“I am not brooding.” The prince folded his arms in protest.

“Yes you are. You are almost always like this when something troubles you. Exactly like mother, you are… you become totally disagreeable.” Visenya chuckled. It was true Jacaerys was indeed like their mother in that regard, he could brood for days one end and argue until all wished to cut his tongue from his mouth.

“So are you.” He muttered.

Visenya sighed and then laid back upon his bed, she grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. Jace lay beside her, staring up into the canopy above, despite his sister’s attempt he could not stop the discomforting thoughts within him. He was a bastard; Ser Leanor was not his true father…his mother had lied.

“Please, Jacaerys, speak it.” She gazed worryingly at him; his eyes moved down at the sound of her soft voice.

“You already know.” Jace slowly turned to face his elder sister, his eyes scanning her face, her features… the one’s he ought to have been born with. Though, funnily enough she did not inherit Ser Leanor’s deep skin, for that he thought it odd. In fact, Visenya looked nothing like his cousins Baela and Rhaena. Yet still, that hardly mattered as Visenya was indeed clearly of Valyrian blood.  The prince scanned her silver hair, the pale greyish violet eyes that adorned her face, her skin which remained pale in the winter and bronzed slightly in the summer. The prince was not jealous, he was merely melancholic, for at least she was able to love her father freely, in public. Ser Strong had remained a constant presence throughout his youth and yet, he had never allowed himself to follow the instinct of love he felt for the man.

Visenya felt her eyes water upon his words, silence reigned as she watched him scan her. Slowly her hand snaked to hold his, it was all she could do, all she knew how to do. Visenya was not very good at expressing such affections with Jace, she always felt he was far too strong for it, too mature to long for sisterly care, not like Luke. Yet now, staring into the witling eyes of her younger brother, she finally saw him for what he was. A boy. A boy who for so long had kept up the veil of strength; and in some regard she felt younger than he, far weaker though she was three years his prior. They did not need to exchange any words, it was true, she did know.

“Mother lies. I know she does not mean to, yet she does.” His voice soft, fragile.

“She must.” Visenya looked down, her voice a mere whisper. She understood her brother’s pain, understood what it was like to listen to their mother proclaim them all of Velaryon blood. Though she knew it was not true. Visenya knew her father was truly Daemon… she was just as much of a bastard as her brothers.

Rhaenyra had little idea that her daughter knew of the truth, that for many years of his absence, Visenya would receive ravens from Prince Daemon, detailing the story of how he had fallen in love with Rhaenyra, how he once wished to be wed to her… how despite it all, he adored Visenya; for she was born from the will of the Old Gods. It was a rarity for him to visit the Red Keep and he would oft arrive alone, without her half-sisters whom she longed to see. She recalled the few times he had taught her Valyrian, shown her how to ride Silverwing saddleless and most importantly; how he had held her to his chest, stroking her hair in the shadows of the Dragonpits.

Daemon had even shown her the Maegor’s holdfast which was a collection of secret passages through the Red Keep. He had only showed her them once, for they were treacherous things – winding and almost impossible to navigate. Many a man had been lost within them and never found again. In fact, the last time she had seen her father was that very night he showed them to her. In all truth, she could not help but feel abandoned by Daemon, for she would send raven after raven that would never return with a letter back. Only on her name-day would he make her know that she was not a forgotten figure in his life.

Silence settled between them, Visenya felt the sudden violent urge to tell her brother the truth, to tell her brother something she had kept from him for most of his life.

“Jace… I..” Visenya trails, her mind in throws as she feels her heart thud in trepidation.

“What is it, sister?” The prince pulled his hand away from hers, he sat up. It was obvious to him something had soured his sister’s usually impish mood.

Slowly, Visenya rose to face him, “Promise me you shan’t hate me?” She whispered.

“I promise.” Jace met her with the same sympathetic eyes she gave him.

“Do not think that I do not understand why you might be blue, brother.” Her eyes fell upon the bed. Visenya felt tears begin to swell, “I share the same trouble… regarding mother’s lies.”

“I don’t understand?” The prince raised her brow at his sister. How could she share his troubles, after all?

“Ser Leanor is neither my father.” As the words choked out of her, she struggled to meet what she imaged was his shocked gaze.

Jace felt the words hit his skull like a morning star thumping into a wall. Brick by brick, it felt like his mind crumbled before him, his life revealed to be another horrific lie.  The young prince said nothing.

“Tis our… Uncle Daemon. Well, rather, your Uncle Daemon.” The princess wiped a rogue tear from her cheek as she let the truth finally fall freely from her mouth.

Jacaerys found his voice hardening, he wasn’t sure why he was mad at his sister, in all truth he felt guilt for it, “You are just like her, then.”

“What?” She finally met his gaze.

The prince shuffled off the bed, folding his arms as he furrowed, “You are just like mother!”

“Why is it you get to know the truth of your father, but mine has been kept from me and my brothers? What makes you so special that she would tell you? Is it shame that stops her? Shame that we are not of pure Valyrian blood, shame for we do not possess the same features as you.. or as our supposed father, or even her?” Jace found himself with watering eyes now, he had been reduced back to child he truly was. Scared and anger at a world he seldom understood.

Visenya rose from the bed, hurriedly rushing to her younger brother, “No, no tis not like that brother. She never told me. In fact, she has little idea that I know it! Daemon swore me to secrecy, he said that if anyone knew of the truth it, it would surely put us all at risk. That it may cause a succession crisis, or worse… lead to mother being accused of treason and all our claims would be lost.” She said softly, taking his shoulders.

The two siblings exchanged a look of pure melancholy, it was difficult to say much more than that. Yet the two knew of something now, something which bound them beyond just blood. That their mother had tried so desperately to conceal their father’s not for sake of shame, but for the sake of fear. That her love made her unyielding to speak of the truth. Visenya watched as Jace’s angered gaze suddenly softened, she watched as he became but a boy again, her little brother in need of his elder sister. That softened gaze quickly shifted to one of vulnerability, as he then collapsed into his sister’s arms and wept.

●

The Princess Visenya made her way through the Red Keep, the hour had indeed grown rather late, and she had all but missed the call for supper as she spent her evening with Jace. An unusually solemn demeanour was cast over her, she made her way to her quarters, practically kicking her feet until she was met the familiar sight of the hall before her chamber doors.

Then, her eyes narrowed on a familiar sight… glimpses of the fire from mounted torches danced upon silver hair and a green gambeson. Aemond.

He scowled, folding his arms as he waited for her to cross his path. Fucking arse, she thought. There was no other way to get to her chambers without passing through this hall, and he bloody well knew that. She would have to walk past him, have to acknowledge him.

No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement, for all she knew he was a phantom of sorts, or a mere trick of the light. She kept walking as usual, soon beginning to pass where he leaned against the wall when;

“I want my book back.” Aemond’s voice echoed coldly throughout the halls. Visenya did not respond.

A sudden squeezing grip caught her wrist, his eyes dark as he spoke bitterly. “Do not ignore me.” His temper was rising at her refusal to acknowledge him, he loathed it, loathed being looked over, treated like he was nothing. He would not take it from her, not today. He heard a small wince from the princess, then letting go of her wrist. Aemond regained composure.

With that, the princess scoffed and turned sharply, hoping to reach her chambers, finally. Yet Aemond reached for her again, his voice raised.

“I SAID DO NOT IGN-“With a sudden force Aemond stumbled back, interrupted by the princess shoving him with all her might.

“PISS OFF!” Visenya exclaimed, wrathful tears in her eyes as she turned once more, very sheepishly running back to her chambers.

The Targaryen Prince stood there for a moment, shocked by the sudden force and rage that had hit him. He felt humiliated… out done by her once more.

As he stood in the shadowy hall of the Red Keep, he watched the Princess disappear into the shadows of the night.

It was clear his niece certainly too, shared the blood of the dragon.

○iv○

[idle-daydreams]

The Gilded Cage

Tw: Yandere themes, stalking, obsession, mentions of murder, horror

[A.N: I feel like I made Poe mildly OC in this? Idk, the original Poe said that a woman's death was the most poetic topic in the world; I wanted to channel a bit of that... uniqueness into this Poe]

Poe had never thought he would fall in love. Love was for other people; it had never quite seemed the right genre for him. 

But then he'd met you. Perusing the books in the mystery section in the local library, with an intent look on your face that had enraptured him. His heart had skipped a beat; he’d let out a strangled yelp that drew your attention. He would have melted into the shadows, too nervous to speak, but you’d spoken to him first, asking him about an obscure volume by Daphne du Maurier. And he had fallen hard.

For days, he’d thought about you. Dreamed of you in various scenarios, placing you as characters in his novels. Sometimes you’d be a rich heiress, other times a penniless orphan. Sometimes you’d be the detective, other times, the victim, lying serenely on a pale bed, eyes closed as though asleep. The words flowed from his pen, blossoming flowery descriptions of the memory etched into his mind - your melancholic beauty, your subdued grace, the softness of your voice, the kindness of your demeanour.

But then, his thoughts had started to wander. Who were you, really? You weren’t a figment of his imagination, a phantom conjured up in his mind. You were a real person, with a real name and a real life. What was your job? What did you like to do in your spare time? Did you think of Poe, did you even remember him? Or did you have a lover who occupied your thoughts?

The thought refused to leave his mind. He had to know you, know all about you, so that he could immortalize you in his writing. What was the point of a writer, except to exalt his muse upon the highest pedestal possible? That was only what Poe was doing... or so he justified it to himself.

He began to visit the library daily, lingering around all day in the hopes of catching sight of you. After a week, his efforts were rewarded: you came back to return the book you’d borrowed.

Poe watched from behind a shelf as you lingered through the aisle, tracing your fingers across the books’ spines. How delicate your fingers were, how soft your touch! How lucky were those pages which had the good fortune of being caressed by you! And you had good taste - the books you picked were by solid mystery writers with a firm grasp on their craft.

He followed you from the library to your home, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he was sure you could hear it from the distance. You lived in a small apartment building not far from the library itself. Poe did not dare follow you inside, but watched as the lights on the topmost floor went on, your silhouette dancing across the curtains. Excitement flushed across his skin as he imagined himself with you, sequestered from the world in your cozy little apartment.

From there it was all too easy to find out everything else about you. Your name, age, phone number, your place of work. You didn’t have much social media, a fact that both pleased and annoyed him, because while it meant that you were more likely to be a wallflower, it also meant fewer pictures for him to gaze upon. He resorted to secretly taking pictures of you while you were out about your day. You were a homebody with few friends; you liked animals and mystery books. You would visit a cafe two streets from your home every Friday evening and order the same drink; you had a few chosen places for take-out, your favourite items on each menu memorized by Poe.

But his obsession refused to abate. These were just things about you; they were not who you were. You remained as ethereal, as untouchable as you had the first day he’d seen you. He would gaze feverishly, obsessively at the pictures of you, the ones he’d save on his phone,  or printed out and pinned to the walls of his home. Taking in the light in your eyes, the pout of your lips, the flush in your cheeks, wondering what thoughts lay behind them, what mystery and wonderment. His writings began to annoy him. What was the point of the caricatures he’d wrought on the pages, mere shadows in the brilliance of your image? He needed you.

“Poe,” Ranpo stopped by his house one day. “Poe, you should stop.”

Poe blinked uncomprehendingly at his friend. “What do you mean?” he said.

“I know that you’re in love. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Rage flared in Poe’s heart. For a minute he was tempted to strike Ranpo for daring to dash his hopes. But then the sensibility of his friend’s words struck him. Ranpo was right; he was on the path of doing something foolish. He’d neglected to approach you, to make his feelings for you clear, thereby leaving your heart wide open for another. Just because you weren’t a social butterfly didn’t mean you didn’t want to be in a relationship. That you weren’t looking for someone to share your life with.

That person could well be Poe.

The thought frightened and excited him. Sure, he had imagined being with you countless times; he’d filled entire notebooks with every detail of your imaginary lives together. But at the same time, the thought of approaching you filled him with dread. Poe was socially awkward in the best of circumstances, and could barely strike up a conversation with ordinary people. Talking to you? Getting you to fall in love with him? The idea was ridiculous, laughable! Why would you even look at him, a shy, graceless little mouse of a man? Karl was more charming and suave than Poe.

But if he didn’t make a move soon, you would be someone else’s. There was already a co-worker of yours that he felt was getting too close, laughing and talking to you as you made your way to your car every day after work. Poe seethed silently as he observed the two of you, wishing death and destruction upon the man even as he begged you to turn away, to look at Poe instead. Couldn’t you feel him? Couldn’t you feel his love, his yearning, even from the distance? Why couldn’t you laugh and smile at him, instead of wasting your time on some brainless twat that didn’t deserve even the ground you walked on?

Poe drew himself up with a deep breath. As usual, Ranpo was right. If Poe continued on the way he was doing right now, he would end up regretting it. He had to do something, even if it was... unconventional.

-------------------------------------------------

It had been a long day. You exhaled as reached your landing, eager to be home. That was when the small parcel sitting by your front door caught your eye.

You frowned as you picked it up. It was addressed to you, your name and address typewritten neatly on the side, though there was no postmark. Through the packaging, it felt like a book - a slim one, with a hard cover. Your frown deepened. You didn’t remember ordering any books recently.

Turning it over in your hands, you entered your apartment. In your preoccupation, you didn’t notice the faint glint from the roof of the building on the other side of the street, a glint that quickly disappeared and could have been attributed to the gleam of the setting sun. Your eyes were fixed upon the parcel as you unwrapped it, trying to remember if it was a late delivery or a mistaken one. A faint warning popped into your mind of something more sinister was pushed aside by a sense of surprise as the object inside finally came into view.

It was a book. Its cover was simple, a subdued navy blue with the title inlaid in gold. “ ‘The Gilded Cage’,” you read out, running your fingers over the words.

There was nothing else. No author, no name of the printing press, no printing date. You looked at the back cover (blank), then again at the front, a vague uneasiness creeping into your mind. Wondering if it was a very new release, you opened the book to the first page, the first chapter, the first few words:

This is all for you, my love.

There was a brilliant flash of golden light.

You screamed. The book fell from your nerveless fingers as you backed away, blinded for an instant. As the light faded, you realized with a start that you were no longer in your apartment.

Instead, you stood in a large, colonial style drawing-room. It was night, and the crescent moon was visible through the massive bay windows at the far end of the room.  Cream-coloured sofas stood around a mahogany coffee-table, a beautifully woven carpet covering the polished hardwood floor. The embers of a dying fire lay in the fire-place, an ormolu clock ticking away on the mantelpiece above. 

“Er, hello?” you squeaked into the silence. “What happened? What’s going on?”

You looked around, heart pounding. You didn’t recognize this place, nor could you explain the loss of time. The only explanation that made sense was that you’d slipped and hit your head, and were currently experiencing a concussion.

But a concussion didn’t explain just how real everything felt. The chill in the air, the red-gold gleam of the embers, the faint rustle of the trees outside moving in the breeze. You pinched yourself hard, wincing at the pain.

That was when the book caught your eye. The one which you hadn’t ordered, yet had been sitting oh-so-innocently outside your apartment. It lay open at your feet, and the pages inside were clearly empty. With trembling hands you picked it up. The cover was now blank.

An awful apprehension began to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Hello?” You tried again, looking around. “Is anyone there?”

Was it just your imagination, or was there a faint voice? You looked around, noticing the open door behind you for the first time. The space beyond lay dark, a gaping maw that gave no hint of what lay beyond. Fighting the scream that crawled up your throat, you backed away towards the windows.

But as you drew closer, you realized that this offered little protection. For the house appeared to stand in them middle of nowhere, the trees the only shield between it and the vast nothingness of the outside.

A whimper escaped your lips. You retreated instead to the fireplace, eyes darting all around in an attempt to find an escape. It had to be a nightmare, some kind of hallucination. Your gaze was drawn to the book yet again. It had to be the source of the problem. Someone had to have put some poison inside, some kind of a hallucinogenic powder that worked by being absorbed through the skin. You opened it again - and that was when the writing caught your eye. It was on the very first page, a few lines in a spidery scrawl.

‘This is all for you, my love,’ the writing said. ‘I have been waiting for you for so long, I simply couldn’t wait any more. I know that you must be frightened, but rest assured that this is only a temporary measure while I prepare our new home.’

You frowned. That was... unexpected.

‘I do so wish that things had been different,’ the writing continued. ‘But I find myself quite tongue-tied in your presence. At the moment I can only sing odes to your beauty in my heart, and wax eloquent about your grace and loveliness only in the written word. But I promise you, I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul.

‘But driven as I am by my own passions, I am also bound by the limits of my ability, and so I must tell you this: there are several murderers loose in the world that you currently inhabit. You are safe from them so long as you stay in this house. Leave, and you would be at their mercy (as they not only outnumber you, but are also exceptional in cruelty and cunning).’

Dread curdled in your stomach. An ability. You had heard of them, of course, the supernatural powers that some people were born with. Ability-users were said to be dangerous, more so because one could never tell them apart from ordinary people. You’d certainly never met one in your life.

And yet, unless there had been a colossal mix-up, one such user was professing his love for you.

There was a soft thud. Your eyes darted once again to the windows. Was it your imagination, or was there a pair of eyes faintly visible in the darkness? A shudder passed through your frame, and you quickly turned back to the book.

‘But you must understand, my dear, that I do not wish to hurt you. I could never live with myself if something were to happen to you, which is why you must do as I tell you. You must love me. I promise you, I will make you happy. I will give you what you want, make every dream of yours come true, be whatever you want me to be - but you must love me. Please. I cannot live without you. Your presence haunts my dreams and my waking hours; scarcely a minute passes that I can keep myself of thinking of you. Your name graces my lips as though it were a prayer, a mantra chanted by a fanatic at the altar of your being. Please, please, I am begging you, love me. If you will not, I will have no choice but to keep you trapped in this book. Not because I desire your distress (quite the opposite), but because as long as you are in there, I can make things so that you are ultimately safe. I can make it so that you will never leave me. For I cannot bear to have you taken from me. I will not have you taken from me. Please, my love, you must understand, no one will love you as much as I. So please, learn to love me.

‘Or else you will stay in this cage forever.’

[banesberry-anomoly]

Ghosts of the Universe singing a Duet

Hey chat I made a video of our and @stellyfins scp/wl author avatars singing Ghost Duet by Louie Zong 💥

[harbouredsoulss]

UNHOLY | DAEMON TARGARYEN

Did I use the gif of Daemon and Rhaenyra... yes I did. They're both so fucking hot. I don't care how wrong it is. If I believed in hell I'm sure I'd be going there 😅

This fic was inspired by the recent episode of House of the Dragon and Sam Smith's unreleased song 'Unholy'.

Please, please please, do not forget to like, comment and reblog!! 🥰

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x OC [Elaena Targaryen]

Summary: A secret rendezvous between a Prince and Princess. What more could you want?

Warnings: 18+; incest (sorry?); sex; penetration; unprotected sex; minor mention of blood; oral sex; mention of bodily fluids; teasing

I also want to add that I used a website for the High Valyrian, so I apologise in advance if it is incorrect.

AO3 link

Word Count: 2.8k words

There was a charge of electricity that sizzled between the Prince and Princess, the anticipation almost palpable. They stood across from one another, gaze never faltering, the vacant iron throne their only witness.  

It was late in the evening, the sconces on the walls burned dimly, casting shadows across their faces.

Her eyes, a violet light, guiding him. 

The princess had escaped her room, guards none the wiser. 

She had evaded them at every turn, with their voices too loud, footsteps a thunder with every step taken; no doubt which path they would take.

Though if she were to be found, unaccompanied by her Kingsguard, it wouldn’t come as much of a surprise. She was known to been found on many occasions traveling empty halls, reading in odd places, the novelty of finding her unchaperoned, wearing off as the years went by. 

Except tonight was different, for tonight had purpose. 

There was no aimless wandering, marvelling at the surrounding view of the keep, the endless library offering no more a temptation than that of the kitchens. Her interest for the evening had already been garnered. 

It was a note left by her bedclothes, written on a piece of cloth, a scrawl of writing requesting her presence, no signature at the bottom.

There needn’t be a name for she knew who called for her. 

It was agony waiting for time to pass, letting her lady’s maid wash and clothe her, all the while pretending to grow weary with sleep. 

As the evening went by, and the castles inhabitants wound down for the night, Elaena found herself readying to leave her chambers. 

It didn’t take much to prepare as she went dressed as she was, taking a robe as a sort of shield and source of warmth, given the corridors of the keep grew especially cool of the evenings. 

Her aim now was to leave undetected. 

Men of the Kingsguard remain posted outside her chamber door throughout the night, protecting her from those who may mean her harm, yet they also protect her from herself and any shenanigans that may befall her. Tonight, it was Ser Harrold Westerling who stood guard. 

It was often Ser Harrold that lingered when she couldn’t sleep, following her about the castle, making sure she did not find herself in any trouble.

For many reasons, this being but one, brought them closer, brokering a trust that wounded her to break.  

Familiarity aside, Ser Harrold could not know where she went this night. 

Much to her surprise, there was a secret entrance, one her conspirator made clear was there, hidden in her chambers, the details written in the note they had left. It concerned her to think of a secret door having been there all along whilst she has remained none the wiser. 

The hidden passage, not too difficult to find, was dimly lit, the torches on the walls offering little in the way of light. The cool, frigid air howled all around her, skin turning to gooseflesh, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. It did little to deter her or to wane the excited she felt humming through her. She was more than ready to reach her destination. 

The map, if it could be as called such, what with it having been scrawled roughly on the scrap of cloth, guided her perfectly, though she felt the journey was never ending. A sigh of relief escaped, just as her path was met with a door, one that stood ajar.

Voices, that of drunken guards, drifted through, alerting her of passers-by, beseeching her to bide her time till they had passed. 

It took only a moment or two of silence before she declared the coast clear. Stepping out from the darkened passageway, she found herself illuminated in the light of the great hall, the iron throne a stone throw away. 

“I see you found your way,” a familiar voice called out. 

There was a figure perched on the throne, face obscured by shadow, the flames of light illuminating just enough for her to see it was The Rogue Prince awaiting her arrival. Elaena took a hesitant step closer, surveying the space around them, making sure they were truly alone. 

“Issa sepār ao se nyke.” It is just you and I

Daemon Targaryen pulled himself to his feet stalking his way towards his princess. 

He stood before her now, back to the iron throne, mouth quirking to the side, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the necklace that adorned it shining dimly in the light. 

He drew closer, each step an echo in the empty hall, eyes never straying from hers. 

“What a beautiful Jewell,” he whispered, fingers thumbing the Valyrian steel, “the person who gifted you such a thing, must think very highly of you.”

Elaena stood as still as her body would allow, doing her best to control her breathing. 

“An admirer indeed,” she answered in turn, a gasp escaping as his finger teased the tender flesh of her chest.

He smiled wickedly, the corners of lips rising. 

Spreading his fingers out, Daemon discarded the necklace, turning his attention to where he could feel the steady rhythm of her heart, the blood of the dragon thrumming through her veins. 

Flexing his fingers, Daemon moved them lower, thumb kneading the softness of her skin. 

Her heart beat quickened, thudding, harder and stronger against the cage of her ribs, as his touch lingered. 

Fingers merely an inch from the curve of her breast, Daemon delighted in teasing her flesh; pinching and kneading as he went along.

Her robe a disastrous shield, bared to him the thinness of her night dress, the exposed buds of her breasts, hardened by the rawness of the night. There was no fire to mind the cold, the heat of each other’s bodies their only source of warmth.

Maintaining her gaze, Daemon eased his thumb lower, rubbing against her hardened nipple, teasing and tugging, forcing a whine to escape the princess as pleasure spiked right through to her core.

Both their eyes widening as the sound echoed around them.

The thought of the guards – anyone happening upon her in this state of undress, so exposed – drove him wild. The attention-seeker, deep down inside of him, wanting them to be found. 

Elaena looked down at the hand caressing her breast, watching his attentions, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the situation.  

Pleasure wasn’t novel to her, she had sought it on numerous occasions either on her own or in a pleasure house, but with Daemon it was something profound. Each time always like the first.

“It’s… madness.” She managed to uttered, voice husky with desire.

She struggled to find her words, thoughts growing more erratic as her lover inflicted his attentions further, bringing his lips to her breast, tongue teasing her through the thin fabric of her shift. She was being driven mad.

There didn’t seem to be much room for coherent thought. 

Daemon used his tongue to tease the Princess, suckling her sweetly, using his unoccupied hand to venture up the column of her neck to the expanse of her jaw, gently prying her lips open, slipping two fingers inside. 

Wetness pooled between her thighs as she swirled her tongue around the pad of his fingers, sucking and biting them lightly. 

“Iksis bisa skoros jaelā?” Is this what you want? He asked. 

Daemon’s voice a steady rasp against her flesh.

He slipped his finger from her lips, smearing saliva across them, leaving a trail across her cheek, down her neck and back to her breasts, swirling carefully around the perked nipple. 

“Kostilus.” Please. She begged.

Her whimper was enough to undo him. His plans to savour her – this moment – almost ruined. All by the sound of her neediness. 

Eyes boring into hers, Daemon brought himself to his knees. He grabbed the hem of her shift lifting and gripping it tight in his fist, the wet between her thighs exposed.

He stared, mesmerized, and leaned his face closer; lips close enough to touch.

He breathed in deep, taking in the musky scent of her.  

Elaena was sure her face burned red, cheeks warming at the sight before her, mortified by what he was doing.

Out of the many men she had taken to bed none had shown her this close attention. Daemon had never done so in the past. It was a first for them.

His name, a moan on her lips as he used his tongue to tickle the flesh above her clitoris, fingers, two of them, teasing the seam of her, rubbing her slickness all around. As she looked down, she could see the hardness of him, straining against his pants, begging for attention. 

She longed to have him – taste him. 

A whine escaped her as he inserted his two fingers, introducing her to a steady pace, pumping inside and out, thumb rubbing lazy circles on her clit. All of his attention focused on finding that secret spot inside, one he hoped to become very well acquainted with. 

Elaena was a mess as Daemon continued his torment, fucking her slowly with his fingers. 

She gripped the back of his head, tendrils of icy blonde hair, tangled in her fingers as she kept him close.

He managed to maintain his cunning smile, his wicked, ever-present grin never faltering. His tongue caught between his teeth as he looked up at her, admiring the reaction he elicited with his touch. 

“Kostilus.” She begged again. 

Much too soon a feeling of emptiness found her as Daemon withdrew his fingers. He brought them to his lips, relishing the taste of her. 

Elaena watched on in an overwhelming haze brought on by her impending gratification; her climax begging and clawing at her now, demanding release. 

“Come,” he commanded, bringing himself to his feet.

She took his hand, allowing him to tug her toward the Throne. He sat down carefully, manoeuvring himself in a way that would avoid the sharpened blades that made up the Iron Throne. She kept his gaze, watching as he made himself comfortable.

They were silent for a moment, Daemons heated gaze washing over her. Moving his hand beneath his trousers he took hold of his cock, rubbing it up and down slowly, teasing himself before her. 

Elaena watched on, bottom lip caught between her teeth, hands itching to take his place. Wanting more than anything to be the source of his pleasure.

He released his cock, freeing it from the confines of his trousers and beckoned her forward with the tilt of his head, a silent invitation.

Arousal slicked between the apex of her thighs, desire begging her to move forward, and mount her prince. 

Looking over her shoulder, wanting to be careful, Elaena made sure they were alone. Afraid of what would happen if they were found, less afraid of fucking him on the Iron Throne. 

 “Iksā ȳgha” you are safe, he assured, eyeing their surroundings carefully. 

She made to move towards him, her decision having already been made the moment she agreed to meet him after dark. 

He held out his hand, guiding her closer.

“Take off your robe.”

An easy command, one she had no qualms in following. Elaena eased the heavy material from her shoulders and offered it to him. He wrapped it around his back, lifting his bottom half up, doing his best to be shield them both from the sharpness of the blades. 

His thoughtfulness tugged at her, the love she had for him intensifying – her love already regarded as limitless, ever expanding, in that moment, overpowered every fibre of her being. 

Carefully she begun to straddle his waist, griping the hem of her dress, allowing it to pool at her waist. He placed her hands on his chest, squeezing them gently, guiding her, just before letting go. An unspoken offer of assurance. 

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha dōna,” I love you, my sweet.

Daemon cupped the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer. 

They sat like that for a moment, taking in the erotic scene before them. Daemon’s cock lined against the seam of her, rubbing gently, up and down, coating itself in the slickness of her. Biting her lip Elaena let a groan escape as he guided himself inside her, finally giving in.

She threw head back, the throes of pleasure overwhelming – driving Daemon wild. 

Elaena squeezed her eyes, a faint hiss escaping her lips as he guided her down, engulfing his length. He fucked her slowly, trying to build a rhythm they could both enjoy. Her pleasure just as valuable as his own.

He eased himself, inside and out, unhurried, and ignorant of her pleas, enjoying the unhurried pace he chose to set.

Daemon moved his hand to where they joined, palm flush against her stomach, thumb rubbing circles furiously, placing all his attention on her sex. 

She quivered in his arms, voice hoarse, pleasure drenching every sound that escaped her. 

Blood rose where her nails scarred his skin, Elaena’s lust manifesting through her hands, marking him. 

Daemon quickened their pace, the sound of skin on skin, echoing throughout the hall, the sound bound to alert any guard patrolling nearby.  

“I’m… I’m... fuck.”

She was at a loss for words. 

Meeting him, thrust for thrust, bucking wildly as his cock found the right place, nestled deep inside her.

Hard to find if ignorant, effortless if one took care. He found her point of release, taking her hard, with every whimper and moan she threw his way, bringing her to the precipice of release. 

His own pleasure mirrored her own, his composure threatening to crack as the heat of her tortured, clamping down around him. 

Drunken laughter, barely perceptible, reached Daemons ears. He did not slow his pace, determined to bring her the release she desperately craved.

Instead, a plan began forming in his mind, as he gripped her waist, preparing himself to stand, only stalling his thrusts to take her with him as he stood.

He swallowed her shriek in a sloppy kiss, refusing to allow her to draw attention to their antics. He slid out of her, placing her on unsteady legs.

The sudden absence caused her to whine and pout her lips.

He eyed her playfully, clucking his tongue. 

“You’re a greedy thing, aren’t you.”  

Not allowing for a response he grabbed her hand leading her swiftly and silently, to where she had entered, the door of the secret passage hidden by shadows in the far-off corner of the hall. It offered enough protection should someone enter to investigate.

He backed her onto the door, one hand gripping in his lovers, the other lifting her shift, exposing the apex of her thighs, her glistening sex taunting him. 

“Come…” she whispered, voice husky – breathless, “finish what you started.”

He let go of her hand, all but driven to madness, and gripped her backside, the palm of both hands kneading her softly. She wrapped a leg around his waist, tugging him closer.

“Jaelan aōha orvorta iemnȳ nyke.” I want your cock inside me.

There was no hesitation.

Daemon lifted her roughly, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“Gaomagon ziry aōla.” Do it yourself.

Biting her lip Elaena rose to the challenge and gripped his length in her hand and used the other to squeeze his arse and pull him closer, guiding him back home. 

He fucked her relentlessly – almost furiously, intent on finishing what they had started. 

Their lips lingered close to one another, their ragged breaths mingling, fanning across their faces.  

“Iksā ñuhon.” You are mine. 

He liked to remind her of that when they were like this, rutting against one another like animals, his cock buried deep inside, both of them feral for one another’s touch. 

The declaration always gave her chills, the reminder never needed, yet craved deeply. 

Daemon brought her closer to her climax, the need to own her release almost turning him into an animal. 

It was oft a beautiful, messy thing, watching her release. Her eyes were often scrunched tightly, gaze avoidant as it washed over her.

Though not this time. This time her eyes remained wide and defiant as she held his gaze. Her voice was hoarse, moans of pleasure turned to whispers, teeth digging into the skin of her lip, blood threatening to spill. Daemon found it mesmerising. 

He slipped out, finishing himself on her stomach, the heat of his release sticking to skin and cloth alike. A smile tugged at her lips as she looked down taking in the mess he had left, and looked back up meeting his heated gaze. 

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, chests heaving, bodies convulsing, vision foggy – moving in and out of focus. Their releases washing over them. 

Him holding her.

“You, Daemon Targaryen, are mine.”

And to him, truer words had never been spoken. 

[no-face-n7]

Heeeyy!! I'm trying to find a place in the HPMA community (｀･ω･´)ﾉ I, alongside some friends, made an AU with OCs about HPMA and we would like to share art, writings and memes about our kiddos and so far, X/Twitter has not showed great results so imma try here~

This is my baby Rowan Müller, he's half reptile (long story, weird powerfull spell thanks to his half brother) and he's very weird in the most cute and funny way possible (?) ☆ミ

His Hufflepuff roomies are also very interesting kids worth knowing, one of them is his half bother! His story in Hogwarts is about self discovery, acceptance and love; having been a little lizard for his first years of existence, it's quite hard for him to understand how do normal people work ["Feelings are ... Hard to understand ( •́ •̀ )"] but he'll make his way in~

Rowan loves magical creatures, his roomies and trying to get to know more students in Hogwarts! But nothing is more important for him than his writing and his time alone in the library ... And maybe someone else who secretly wanders in the library too /cofcof/ COLBY FREY /cofcof/

BARE WITH ME PLEASE I barely know how this site works LSHDKBEKDHD but I would really like to find a space were I can share the art and scribbles we make (*^^)v

[miaowitch]

The Hardest Part

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

read on Ao3 or below !!

gale dekarios x tav oc (baldur's gate)

cw ⋆｡‧˚♡ m/f, semi-public sex, fingering, innapropriate use of mage hand, smut with feelings, pet names, oc/canon

summary ⋆｡‧˚♡

Elle was never the type to assume feelings. Gale wasn’t that elusive anyway. She could always tell how he felt, or at least weasel it out of him. Camp was quiet though, and a lot weighed on Gale’s mind.

AKA

Local Wizard might be obsessed with a Cleric of the Moonmaiden, will he ever actually tell her how he feels? or will he be alone with his cat forever in a library?

Elle was never the type to assume feelings. Gale wasn’t that elusive anyway. She could always tell how he felt, or at least weasel it out of him. Camp was quiet though, and a lot weighed on Gale’s mind. They had only been traveling a few months, everything was fine in Elle’s eyes. The elf found it easy to say that she considered her party to be very close friends with one another. Growing up, she didn’t have too many friends, so traveling with the group was more of a practice in socialization. When you’re known as the bookish nerd with a heavy devotion to Selûne; not that many people want to approach you in the grove. Except Gale just understood her. She couldn’t joke the same with anyone else, no one understood her when she went on tangents. Just Gale.

Their tents were in perfect eye shot of each other, it’s not like she wasn’t allowed to look in his direction. They set up camp by the shore for a reason, the lakeside is beautiful. Easily she could claim that she was looking at the water, but each time… Gale found her attention. It was always a pleasant distraction in the evening, her dear friend Gale wouldn’t blame her for her wandering eyes anyway. Though when he looked back for a second time, eyes locking directly with Elle before he looked away, she began to think. “The lake is right there, why does he look at me?” Elle had an imagination from the amount of romance novels in her collection, but never would she imagine someone falling for her. She could only picture herself as a spinster holed up in a grove far from civilization. Not that she didn’t notice the attractive qualities of everyone she’d met, the romantic in her could never be silenced. Gale just didn’t seem the type to pay attention to her when people like Wyll or Shadowheart traveled with them. Even Astarion was more appealing than her, in her mind at least.

For just a moment though, she imagined walking up to Gale and just announcing her suspicions. Her eyes for the third time had fixed on Gale. The moon broke through the trees and illuminated his tent now, as if her Goddess was giving her better sight for her fixation. She watched as he sighed, broad shoulders rose and fell quickly as he thumbed at the page of the book he definitely wasn’t reading. The water still distracted him.

Elle took a deep breath to gather her courage. The rest of camp had either retired for the night or had taken up an activity that they couldn’t be pulled from. She thanked Selûne, Elle wasn’t sure if she could handle Shadowheart’s cautious gaze as she watched her with the ‘dangerous wizard’. They’d all worked on their gripes with one another, but Shadowheart still struggled to see Gale as anything but power hungry. Elle couldn’t see him as anything but Gale. Quietly, she gathered herself, wrapped a blanket over her shoulders to help keep her warm on the walk over. The cool night air also helped cool off any embarrassment from rejection, too. It wasn’t that she expected rejection, Gale wouldn’t be so cruel, but she’d been wrong before. The crunch of the dirt beneath her leather shoes alerted Gale, snapping him from his daze. He seemed more on edge for the past few nights than he ever had. “Well, I didn’t expect your company tonight.” He smiled, as if all the previous concern had washed away. “What can I do for you, friend?”

“Is there something on your mind, Gale?” Elle asked, stepping closer and taking a seat on the cushion laid out by his own. He’d always been happy when she stopped by to sit with him for a chat, that he added a seat just for his favorite company. Gale only responded with a sigh, “Oh, just the usual melancholies of the enlightened mind. Brain worms and what not…” Gale’s comment only made her more suspicious, his moodiness was more than the usual tadpole concern. He seemed genuinely lost in his mind with something more. “Of course, it’s your usual weekly brooding session…” Elle looked off towards the lake, the moonlight dancing on the water. “You’re positive it had nothing to do with me? You kept looking-” She was cut off by Gale’s boisterously nervous laughter. “Oh, Elle, what would I be thinking of you for? Aside from your never ending wit or your b-” He sputtered to clear his throat, “Your vocabulary, I mean. My apologies. Perhaps the cold is getting to my head? I should retire.” He began to stand, but Elle grabbed onto his wrist. His pulse was fast, his face flushed, but he still lowered himself back to the patterned cushion.

“What’s really troubling you?” Elle asked earnestly. She didn’t catch onto his thoughts this time, she really had no clue what the wizard was thinking. For all she knew, the mindflayer transformation was upon him, and she would have to do the unthinkable. His hesitation didn’t fully melt away, but she could tell he was easing into the confession of his thoughts. “I just…don’t wish to burden you with my mind. It’s nothing concerning, but it just might be a little…complicated though.” Gale finally admitted, but still kept it vague enough to make Elle officially frustrated.

Complicated? Elle didn’t wish to brag, but nothing was too ‘complicated’ for her to fathom. She’d been subjected to a tadpole behind her eye, she could surely understand the inner workings of a dumb wizard. So, she scoffed. Rolling her grey eyes, she took her hand away. “Right, too hard for me to understand.” Elle now stood up. “I can understand when I’m pressuring you though. I apologize, Gale.” She felt offended, flustered, and most of all disappointed. Perhaps she’d just been misreading the signs from Selûne. “Not everything can be fixed, stupid Cleric.” Elle scolded herself internally, but was interrupted by Gale’s calloused hand grasping her wrist now.

“You must understand…the hardest part is understanding my own feelings for you.”

It clicked at that moment. “Oh...that’s why.” Elle looked around, hoping that no onlookers would interrupt them. “Y-Your feelings?” She felt like her heart was pounding straight out of her chest. “I just can’t get my mind off of you, Elle.” Gale sighed, removing his hand from her wrist to run over his hair earnestly. “I can’t even spend an evening without looking your way…” Brown eyes met grey now, eye contact holding for a moment before Elle broke the silence. She lowered herself back down to his level. “You…um…you mean that?” She questioned in an almost whisper, his response was an honest nod. “Did you not catch me staring your way earlier?” She leaned in, as if the secret would leave the space between them. “I was so afraid I’d been bothering you with my attention.” Elle’s cheeks felt so warm, but she refused to back away. Not with Gale.

“Did you not expect my adoration? Even after all this time?” He questioned, looking at her as if he was studying each feature. He just didn’t want to lose her with this new proclamation. “How was I supposed to ever expect this.. I’m not the type to fall for..” Elle’s own esteem issues would rarely surface, but she found it hard to find the good in herself. “Not the- Not the type to fall for? Elle, that is just utterly absurd.” Gale’s hand gripped each other in his lap, just to hold back from holding her. “How could you not be the center of all my attention when you challenge me so often. Your beauty shows itself in so many ways, how am I supposed to ignore you?” Now his right hand reached out to brush a piece of her longer bangs from her eyes. “I��m obsessed, honestly..” He sighed again, but now she understood his reasoning. Lovesickness wasn’t fatal, but it definitely could hinder a traveling party.

“How long..?” She asked finally, but Gale could easily answer. “When you pulled me from the portal..” He lowered his head, as if to be ashamed. “I suppose you’re not alone then..” Elle scooted in closer, the gap between them just kept getting smaller with each shared confession. When she pulled the wizard from the whirling portal, she almost felt like it was a divine gift from her Goddess. After being with two of the most sarcastic members, it was a breath of fresh air to have the wizard tag along.

“Gale, you don’t understand how long… I’ve wanted you to say this.” She sighed out, her manicured hand resting on his knee closest to her. Elle had such a hard time admitting her own feelings, even if she spent so much time worried about others. “I’m still having such a hard time even believing I’m not dreaming.” Gale’s throat bobbed as he swallowed his anxieties. “What can I do to convince you that you’re truly awake?” His voice was confident, with a slight waver. Not that his own experience was anything to worry about, but being in his tower for so long hadn’t given him a chance for practice. “What do you mean?” Elle asked innocently. Her experience in the love field was basically nothing outside of her novels and mage hand. She had no clue how to respond to his moves.

She didn’t need to respond, though, as Gale had leaned in now. Their lips met with a tender touch, Gale just couldn’t be anything but gentle with Elle. Her tension melted away at his touch. Elle didn’t feel uneasy or unsafe when it came to Gale. Even when the kiss became more intense, she didn’t feel any boundaries being crossed. Pulling her into his lap, Gale helped her sit on his thigh as he held her waist closer. The sound of the crickets chirping, the owls sounding off, and the water crashing soft on the shore just covered the sounds of their clothes rustling. Elle was the first to let her hands wander.

First, they traced his collar bone. Detailing each small scar and running over the low ridge of his tattoo. Then, she traveled lower with her left hand. She just rested it on his chest, but Gale was bursting just from her sweet grazing on his body. Breaking from the kiss, Gale panted to catch his breath. Elle just folded her head into his neck, leaving even sweeter kisses with every whimper he’d release. “Elle…p-please…hold on…” Gale begged, feeling himself about to burst. Elle thankfully relented. “I-I’ve never done anything like this before, Gale… I don’t know what I should do…” Elle confessed, hiding her flustered face in his shoulder.

“Allow me to help you then, my dear.” Gale whispered soft into her ear, not wanting to scare her any. “Will you trust me?” He smiled, pulling her back to look at him. Elle of course agreed. How could she not trust Gale Dekarios?

With a wave of his hand that wasn’t holding her, he cast a veil over the tent. The world seemed normal, just as if a haze had fallen over the tent. “What happened…?” She questioned, Gale just started to smile. “Just something to deter the others.” He leaned into her neck now, trailing kisses from the bottom of her ear to the base of her neck. “My tent appears closed now, so they won’t bother…this.” They were still in the night air, exposed, with all the risk warded off.

Gale’s free hand now moved to hold her thigh, causing Elle to gasp with surprise. Their lips met again, this time with more urgency. The spell could wear off at any moment, so they had to make it count in one way or another. Elle’s own hands began to move down again, this time pushing the limit. Gale groaned into the kiss as Elle palmed his already hard cock through his lounging pants. Her palm rubbed at the length over the cloth as she tried to deepen the kiss. Gale allowed her, his tongue working its way into her mouth now. He moaned with a deep grumble into her, not wanting to waste a moment any longer.

“I’ve dreamed about this exact moment for months now, Elle…” He broke the kiss to now move his pants down. Elle moved off his lap to sit on her knees. Patiently waiting for him, as if she’d expected the evening to take this path. His dick sprung from the tightness of his pants, Gale audibly sighed in relief.

Elle would be lying if she said she wasn’t mildly intimidated by its girth, but she sure was excited. Only reading about this in her risqué books, Elle had no actual experience with sex in real life. “M-May I…” She started to ask, but Gale just feverishly responded with a nod. Elle took it as permission to reach out. Positioning herself between his legs, she pulled at his pants just slightly to make it more comfortable for him. With one hand she began slowly moving up and down, with the other she palmed at his balls that perfectly rested on her hand. “E-Elle…oh gods…” Gale threw his head back when she started to pump at his cock, his wrist moved up to cover his eyes. She was focused, though, her speed quickening with every second passing.

His panting grew louder with her speed. Elle was stopped, though. Gale moved his hand back down to hold onto her hand. “I need you…” He confessed desperately. Pulling at her wrist softly, his puppy dog eyes were too much for her to resist. “Please.” Gale begged again. If Elle wasn’t a sane woman, she’d be clawing at the tent behind them.

She moved back, pulling her pants off with haste. The cool air hit her, the only things keeping her warm was the sweater she wore and the heat from her full body blushing. Crawling forward on her knees, she didn’t feel as exposed, knowing their moment was hidden. She felt almost more excited, knowing that if the veil fell, she’d been seen for all that she is. Elle wanted Gale more than she ever thought possible. His firm hands grabbed onto her soft ass, pulling her up to straddle his lap now. Gale’s cock bobbed with his movement. His erection now rested on her pelvis, throbbing in anticipation. Gale held himself firmly to not absolutely devour her on the spot, needing her more than the magic he craved. He took two fingers to ready her for their endeavor, but was not prepared for just how wet she’d become. Elle wasn’t even aware that a person could make her feel so…euphoric.

Biting her lower lip to hold back her moans, he moved around her clit just to tease at her. Elle’s body crumpled against his torso again, head resting on his neck. “G-Gale-” She sputtered out, breathing heavily into him. Two fingers moved down her pussy, inserting one after another into her. She shook, thighs quaked the deeper he pushed. Gasping softly as she gripped at his shirt with one hand and pulling at his hair with the other, Elle couldn’t sit still. Even the thickness of his pointer and middle finger was enough to drive her mad. “Darling, if I don’t do this I won’t fit, just try to hold on a little longer.” Gale cooed in her ear, petting her head soft to coach her as he began thrusting his fingers faster.

His fingers coated in her wet was a feeling he’d savor. Gale wasn’t surprised that he was growing harder by the second. Each time he’d move his hand, his cock would throb. Tightening around him, her back arched into his body, just trying to hold patience. “Haah… Hah… Gale…” Elle breathed out, her grip getting tighter. Gale wouldn’t let her finish, though, he needed Elle to help him. Pulling his fingers out, fighting the tight suction of her virginity. She mewled at the absence, but Gale tried to console her. “Shh, love. J-Just wait. Please.” Holding the shaft still, he helped Elle stand on her knees to hover still.

Anticipation made him shake slightly, he anxiously ran the tip down from her clit to her waiting hole. Meeting her pussy with a deep moan, Gale felt like he could’ve melted. Elle helped him by lowering her body, her pussy resting right on the tip. Gale sped it up by pulling her further, going deeper. Elle quickly moved a hand over her mouth, his girth stretched her more than just his fingers. Forgiving her cluelessness, Gale just kept trying to soothe her while easing her down. “Gods… Elle…you…” He breathed as he finally bottomed out, “You are….divine…”

Tightening around him from the compliment, Gale once again felt the need to burst then and there. It’d been upwards of a year since he’d been with someone so intimately, but he tried to remain patient. On her own, though, she began to move. Gale tried to lighten the load by guiding his hands to her ass again, allowing him to move for her. “Thank you…for trusting me with this.” His brown eyes looking at her with the sweetest smile, but she was too far gone as he began speeding up his pace. Her arms laced around his neck to hold her stability, she laid on him with her full weight.

Gale was stronger than he looked, but it also just could’ve been the instinct to rail into her. The amount of sound coming from the pair almost made her doubt the spell truly hid what they were doing. The soft padding of skin meeting skin, the soft moans and groans, and the sound of lips against lips. Fucking into her was easy, but Elle couldn’t stop from kissing him. Trailing along his tattoo (which only drove him mad) up to his mouth, Gale’s pace sped up faster to match his own needs. “E-Elle-” He sputtered out, breaking the kiss she kept leaning further into.

He had to pull her off, trying not to upset her too badly by cumming inside her. Pumping at his own cock, he used the lubrication from her pussy for ease. Elle started to whine, but Gale just cast Mage Hand to help her along. A mystical blue hand appeared to work at her clit with the same speed he’d shown prior. He smiled as Elle laid back on her knees, so Gale could get a good look as he stroked his dick. As Elle’s body shuddered with pleasure, she arched her back to fend off the eventual climax. She wasn’t sure what she was fighting off though, maybe she just didn’t want the moment to end. Gale helped her legs get more comfortable, holding her still just to watch her squirm under the hand. Gale felt himself at the point, so he rose on his knees as he continued pumping at his dick.

Elle came with a sigh of relief through her nose, but Gale had to bite his tongue as he came into his fist. The hand still moved, even as Elle softly begged to slow down. Only as she squirmed around did he snap out of his daze, waving his hand once again to send it away. The two sat in exhausted silence, crickets outside acting as a white noise to their panting.

“Well…” Gale began. “I don’t suppose that’ll be the end…right?” He looked at Elle with hopeful eyes, holding out a hand to help her up. Elle paused for a moment to allow herself to catch her breath. “Well, you don’t just expect us to never explore the notion.” Gale scrambled nervously, now expecting rejection from the silence.

“Shut up, Wizard.” Elle finally sighed out, giving a soft kiss onto his cheek.

[taestefully-in-luv]

Our Time | JJK (Five)

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

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

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

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: swearing, frustrations of amnesia, mentions of alcohol, lots of panicking, crying from multiple characters, mentions of death, mentions of vomit multiple times, feelings of betrayal and anger and sadness, next warning is a major spoiler: confirmed kidnapping of jk & ocs c h i l d blah blah blah for those who don't want spoilers and don't need warnings lol

a/n: only one more chapter until the introduction of this story is complete. And then the true plot will begin. 🤭please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

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

You remember when you and Jungkook truly became friends.

You had never struggled to make friends. You naturally lured people in with your energy, maybe even your charm as a person. But after spending a month in Seoul already, you had never felt more out of place and out of your element. Every face you came across was the face of a stranger. It was like you were sitting in front of a TV screen and watching a crowd of people who didn’t matter to the plot of the movie. Just there. Living a life that had nothing to do with you. 

And you were the same to them.

You had only had maybe two conversations with your roommate in the small dorm. The first conversation was hardly even an introduction and the second one was her asking you if it was cool that she would sneak her boyfriend in every now and then. You didn’t mind. But you thought it meant you all would become friends but that proved to be untrue. 

The first week of classes, you realized many of your classmates are already friends or the ones who barely spoke were focused on their studies. That leaves you, someone with no friends and someone who isn’t that focused on school the way others were, feeling completely alone. 

The Friday night after the first week of classes was supposed to be a night of partying with your new friends and the new independent life as a new adult. But instead you wandered around aimlessly, lost and lonely. You didn’t really want to spend the first weekend as a college student in your dorm but where exactly were you going to go? Well, you decided to stick to campus and ended up browsing the library. 

A book to demolish during the weekend didn’t sound so bad, now did it?

When you were in the library, your eyes darted around, for no particular reason but hey, maybe something would stick out to you. And something did.

Or more like someone.

Your eyes grew twice their size when you spotted someone familiar. And goodness, nothing felt better than seeing something familiar in this new world.

You walked up to a table that sat at least six people but you stared with excited eyes at the only person occupying the space. 

“Frog boy?” You had blurted in pure happy rage. 

The frog boy in question kept his eyes on the book in his hands, only releasing a long sigh before lifting his eyes to you and cocking a brow. 

“You’ve known me almost your entire life and you don’t even know my name?” 

You had seen the playful glint in his eyes when he met your gaze.

You rolled yours, “Fine. Jungkook. Or you know, Ribbit.”

You hadn’t felt this excited and relieved since moving to Seoul. (Kind of.) (It’s not like you two were ever friends.) But that was about to change. Oh yes, that was going to change.

Whether your little frog boy, Jungkook, likes it or not.

“Do you go here too?!” You had asked him.

He only sighed again, looking back down at his book before answering with an unbothered nonchalance, “Nah.” And then he raised the book up, showing it to you with a straight face. “I came all the way to Seoul because only this library has…” He looked at the cover, “A freshman course Literature book.” 

“Oh.” You nodded in understanding, equally straight face.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you, “You realize I’m joking, right?” 

“That would make sense.” You nodded again, pulling out a chair across from him and taking a seat. “So we both go here. That’s great. We’re friends now.” 

“Friends?”

“Unless you’re still too shy.” You remember how you challenged him.

But Jungkook raised another brow, “Am I still eight years old to you?”

“Maybe.” You had laughed before mocking. “When I see your face, I keep imagining it like,” You had scrunched up your features, pretending to cry while shaking your shirt. “A…a…a…a…a…f-frog!” 

You remember how he laughed. 

His laugh was pure, genuine and contagious. You remember how you joined him and it’s like the past lonely month you had spent in Seoul didn’t exist anymore. 

You two would start meeting up once a week at the library. Very casual. He would try to study and you would talk his head off. Jungkook never once complained. You remember looking forward to your weekly hang outs and you had hoped he felt the same. 

Jungkook obviously knew you were itching for more.

He looked over a textbook that he wasn’t paying any attention to and said, “You know we can hang out more than once a week, right?”

You basically had jumped out of your chair, cleaning up around you when you said, “Perfect. Let’s go to a party that my roommate told me about but didn’t invite me to.”

“A party?”

“A party.” You nodded.

Jungkook eyed you for a moment, looking hesitant. “I didn’t intend to party though.”

“Come on. We’re in this together.” You fluttered your lashes at him, trying your best to look convincing but he only huffed out an annoyed breath before giving in.

It was your first college frat party. Jungkook’s too. 

It was also the first time you got super drunk. Jungkook too.

You two had really opened up and bonded this night. You realized Jungkook definitely wasn’t the shy boy you remember as a kid—that makes sense. You told stories and ended up in your own world. It was a lot of fun and you knew college in Seoul wasn’t going to be so lonely after all. 

You remember by the end of the night when you two were walking, completely intoxicated, back to the dorms when you convinced him to just crash at your place. It was risky, trying to sneak him in, but it worked. You both stumbled inside, drunk off your asses when Jungkook claimed he didn’t feel good.

“Don’t throw up.” You remember warning him. “Or I’ll throw up too.”

“If I throw up,” He gulped anxiously, “I’d hope you would too. Didn’t you say we’re in this together?”

“D-Don’t even think about it.” You swallowed down your own drunken nausea. 

And then he did throw up.

And then you did too.

Naturally, you were inseparable after this. 

Weekly hang outs turned almost daily. You would talk to him like any other close friend and he would do the same. It felt good and natural and like you two had been friends since the day you shoved a frog down his shirt. And that first winter break, you two traveled home to Busan together, surprising your parents because after all these years of being neighbors, you were finally friends. 

You two had convinced your parents to have a joint cook out and you remember how afterwards, you and Jungkook laid on the hood of his car, looking up at the stars and talking about life. You remember how you asked him what he envisioned for his future.

He glanced at you, eyes lingering on your face for several long moments before he narrowed them, “We’re on vacation and you’re asking me to think about my future?”

You both laughed.

“I don’t know if what I’m currently in school for is something I actually want to do with my life. I’m hoping I’ll get inspired and suddenly know what it is I have to do.” He had finally answered.

You remember understanding his words, the feeling resonating with you. “Me too.”

You remember turning your body towards his and smiling, “Have I told you how glad I am to have seen you at the library and I forced my friendship on you?”

He had snorted, turning his own body towards you as well. The moonlight hitting his face, illuminating his features just right. He almost looked straight out of a dream. “You didn’t force your friendship on me.”

It was your turn to snort. “Liar.”

He stared at you for a moment, teasing smile pulling at his lips when he began drumming his fingers against the metal hood of his car. “And why would I ever lie to you?”

You remember the vibration you felt beneath your body when each of his fingers landed on the metal with a rhythmic beat. You remember the sound like a melody and his words were the lyrics. 

You remember how it felt when he basically sang his silent promise to you.

“Yeah, you’d never lie to me, right?” You had teased back but there was a quiet and genuine conversation happening beneath the teasing.

“Never.” He told you. And you believed him.

And you should still believe him, right?

But Misuk’s words are repeating relentlessly in your mind, ‘Closest. She hasn’t spoken one fucking word to you in two years. But right, closest.’

You want to have confidence in Jungkook because you should. But his silence after her words feels like cold, quick spider legs are racing up your spine, creating a chilling uneasiness and a spasm of worry and discomfort crosses over your face. You’ve never liked spiders.

What does Misuk mean by that? Why would she say that? There is no way you wouldn’t talk to your husband for two years. There must be some kind of misunderstanding. But your body remains stuck to the wall like you’ve been superglued and you’re afraid the moment you peel yourself away, your skin will be ripped off your bones. 

You know there has to be some kind of explanation because her words don’t directly translate to you and Jungkook not actually speaking for two years but your brain sends signals throughout your body that you have every right to be as anxious as you feel. 

Because your brain knows more than it’s letting on. Your brain holds all the mysteries that it doesn’t want to show you. And your body listens to the signals it sends.

“Be worried.” They say. 

But no matter if your skin separates from you and becomes a part of the wall in your kitchen…you have to go out there and get some kind of answer. Because you can’t handle for one more thing in your life to not make sense.

You tell your shaking legs to walk.

Even while you feel imprisoned by fear, they move. Your body turning the corner of the kitchen wall, water still running in the background, as you make your presence known. 

Jungkook and Misuk’s heads turn towards you when they feel you. And they mirror one another’s expressions. Watching you in numbed horror. 

“y/n…” Misuk says your name, blood draining from her face but you can tell she’s trying to look normal. “Hey.”

“What do you mean?” You’re surprised you have a voice. “Why did you say that?”

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, panicked eyes boring into your face. But he doesn’t speak.

They quickly glance at one another, an understanding that you’ve heard their conversation and you see how Jungkook’s expression twists into one of anger before he looks completely ashamed when he meets your eye again.

“What’s going on?” Your feet take you closer, your brain sending the signals without you telling it to. Your brain must be making fun of you. Mocking you. Wanting you to find things out when it already has the answers. Like it’s playing some game. “Why did Misuk say that? Why are you two on bad terms? Why,” You’re walking faster, getting closer as adrenaline starts running through your veins, your mouth unable to stop speaking.

“I asked what’s going on.” You stop in front of them, “Why—why did Misuk say that? Why are you both quiet now? Why can’t you answer me? Why are you looking at me like that?” You can’t stop the questions from spilling out of your mouth, eyes going frantically between Jungkook and Misuk. “W-Why aren’t you answering? Why are you doing—why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me feel this way? Why—why aren’t you—” Your heart is rapid inside your chest, thumping against your ribcage, trying to run away and hide now. “Fucking answer me because I don’t know what the fuck is going on!” Your chest heaves uncomfortably, eyes blown wide as nothing makes sense inside your mind.

Jungkook stares at you, eyes just as wide before he slowly shuts them, his lips sticking together in a tight line, nostrils flaring. 

“Nothing…” You quiet your voice, slight tremble when you speak. “Nothing already feels real to me. But marrying my best friend does make sense. But not talking to said husband for two years does not.” 

You concentrate on the two in front of you, watching their expressions and reactions to your words carefully. Jungkook looks pissed while Misuk blinks at you with obvious guilt on her entire face. 

“Say something!” You yell at them, both of their bodies flinching and your panicked thoughts only grow more wild and out of control. Fear is bursting your veins now. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what is known. The fear that your brain is just hiding something from you that could possibly make you heart crumble and shatter. 

“I…I…” Misuk looks around, eyes unable to meet yours anymore while she sets the muffins down onto the table at the front entrance. “I should—should leave.” 

Jungkook is quick to throw Misuk an incredulous look, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He spits at her. “You’re the one who opened your fucking mouth and opened this can of worms. And now you want to leave?”

Misuk snaps her head towards Jungkook, glowering eyes on him. “Should I stay? Say everything?” 

Jungkook swallows hard and you can see anger spiking his body. “You’re right. You’ve done enough. Just leave. I’ll walk you out.”

“I don’t need you to wa—”

“—Let’s go.” He walks forward, opening the front door as she seethes, walking past him.

You watch in disbelief, brows pinching when you try to stop them. “Where—”

“—Just stay here.” Jungkook tells you, his voice softens when directed towards you. “I’ll only be a minute.”

And just like that, Jungkook and Misuk are out of your house, front door slammed shut. 

How could they? How could they leave you here with your anxiety gripping your core and making you feel more lost and estranged in this world all over again. 

You stand here, blood pooling into the heels of your feet. A sudden coldness surrounds you and you feel faint. What is going on? What exactly has transpired in these last nine years? 

And where the hell is your explanation? 

You wish you could shut off your brain. Tell it to stop coming up with ridiculous theories when it knows the truth deep down. It’s just having fun with you at this point. 

You don’t think you can master the uneasiness you feel and control it. 

Your tense body twitches the moment your front door is opening again and Jungkook is slipping through with downward eyes. You wait anxiously for him to come closer to you and explain that it is not what it seems. But his body language throws you off. It throws off the confidence you’re supposed to have in him. 

Jungkook’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his own anxiety radiating off his body like heat off a space heater.  You want to read him like a book, like a book with an obvious ending. But you can’t. You can’t read him since he is in another language right now.

“Jungkook.” You call for him, trying your best to stay in one piece. 

He tries to look up at you but his eyes can’t manage your eyes. Your face. Your body. He can’t manage to feel what he’s feeling but a million times worse when he sees you. He walks closer to you, stopping just a foot in front of you, tense body looking more uncomfortable than what you’re feeling. 

“y/n…” He can’t even say your name without his voice cracking, a harsh breath forcing its way out of his mouth while his hands immediately go to his face, fingers rubbing into his skin with a roughness that makes you more worried than before. “Fuck.” He mutters in into his hands.

“Talk to me.” It’s not a suggestion. He knows this. You’re not asking. You’re telling him. You’re telling him to explain why the hell Misuk says that you two are not close and you haven’t spoken in two years. 

Jungkook’s hands drag down his face, the color has left him, a growing paleness that makes you think he might faint or puke at any moment. He’s struggling to even look at you. 

But he does.

And you see the pain in his eyes.

“I don’t…” He croaks out, breaths uneven. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to—how to explain. I don’t know what to fuck—fucking say.” He finally stares at you, gaze so intense you almost wish he would go back to looking away. 

You swallow your nerves, your need for answers stronger than your need for ignorant protection of your feelings. “We’re married. Yet we haven’t spoken in two years. According to Misuk, anyway. Is that true?” 

He’s still staring and you’re growing more panicked. Needing an answer now but his silence is telling. 

“I asked if that’s true.” You repeat with a colder tone. 

Jungkook releases a shaky breath, “It’s half true.”

Your lips twist, “What does that mean? We do talk?”

“No. We aren’t married.” He tells you, voice quiet and eyes ashamed.

You take a step back, confusion growing. “But…but I saw—”

“—We were married.” He clarifies. “But we aren’t…” He closes his eyes for a moment, stopping them from growing wet. “Anymore.” 

You take another step back, face hardening as the confusion only triples. “We’re…divorced?” You ask him, but you hate that you even have to ask.

He stays still in his spot, the shame and regret thick in his voice when he answers, “Yeah.”

Your posture suddenly stiffens, letting out a forceful breath but because of the tightness in your chest, breathing is suddenly the hardest task.

You try to fight for optimism but your veins that were once bursting are filling again, but with a deadly acid that poisons your body. It’s running through you, corrupting and decaying any ounce of understanding. You need to breathe but you couldn’t possibly fight for one breath when your insides are turning rotten. 

Jungkook finally takes a step forward but your feet carry you away from him, several steps back until you’re against the edge of your sofa. 

“y/n…” He says your name but you aren’t sure he deserves to because he…

“Y-You lied to me?” You finally manage to say the one thought that keeps pushing against your raging forehead. “You lied to me? You lied?” You blink at him, “You lied to me, Jungkook? You made me think we…?” You shakily gesture between your bodies, “You let me think…” 

“I…” Jungkook’s expression grows desperate. “I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t…if I told you truth it would just…”

“The truth?” You look at him, disappointment in your killer gaze. “You lied to me. You lied—you lied. You would rather lie to me than—”

“—Yes!” He shouts, breathing heavier than before. “It’s one revelation after the other and you can’t handle the…” 

Your disappointment, your shock, your betrayal are slowly turning into anger.

“You lied to me.” You say, knowing it’s a fact now. “Why?”

Jungkook’s lips are parted and you’re both waiting for his explanation but it doesn’t come.

“I asked you why, Jungkook.” You feel your body sinking. An unbearable sadness creating a space inside your chest. “Tell me why and maybe…” You want to be reasonable. Maybe he had to or maybe he…no, why would he lie? Why would he lie to you? 

“It’s complicated.” Is the answer he settles for and the anger inside you finally snaps. Your body is struck with betrayal. 

“Com—complicated?” You ask the word in earnest. “You’re joking, right?”

“y/n…I asked you to always trust—”

“—You’re asking me to trust you after you lied to me?” Your jaw tightens, “Just tell me and we will see if—”

“—No.” He shakes his head, growing paler by the second. “I-I can’t. I really can’t.”

“You can’t tell me? Why?”

“Because I can’t!” He grows exasperated, his eyes blown out. “I fucking can’t. I can’t. I can’t say it. I can’t do that. I c-can’t.” His body gives up on him, shoulders shaking when he falls to his knees and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t make me say—say it. I just can’t.” 

You look down at him, your confusion making you turn to anger instead of anything else.

You’re hurt.

But right now, being mad feels easier.

“Please, y/n.” His entire face makes you hurt more. “Please just…”

“Leave.” You say the word quietly. His eyes shoot open and he stares up at you. They’re blood shot and teary. “Please just leave.” 

Jungkook tries to stand again, his knees are weak but he tries anyway.

“y/n…” 

“Just leave.” You’re the one begging now, “Please just leave. Let me…just let me be right now.” You feel your own eyes grow wet, stinging and burning. Throat tight but you manage to beg him again, “Please just leave.”

Jungkook is trying to speak to you with his eyes and your brain, deep down, seems to understand him but your brain doesn’t want to let you in on this secret. He nods, blinking his eyes when a tear falls and his anxiously wipes it away. “Okay.”

He clearly doesn’t have it in him to fight you on this. Because for whatever reason, he can’t.

~~~

You wonder if this is how you felt when you first got divorced. Or maybe just a similar feeling. Like you’ve been stranded, abandoned and left for dead. Like your body has been drained of all the blood that pumps through you and someone has scooped out your heart and other organs and you’re now just an empty shell and a sorry excuse for a human being.

You might think to yourself that it’s quite dramatic to feel that way but somehow you feel even worse than that. 

You haven’t slept and you aren’t even really sure if you’ve even breathed since the news. You’re restless and anxious. You’re angry. You’re sad. And you’re heartbroken. You don’t even know what it must have felt like when you and Jungkook broke it off. What must have went wrong? So wrong that you two would go separate ways and you two wouldn’t speak to one another. 

A thought crosses your mind though…Misuk is upset with Jungkook. And she said you haven’t talked to him. She could have meant that you both haven’t spoken to one another in mutual agreement but Misuk’s hostility and choice of words have you believing different. 

So what exactly happened? And why does Jungkook refuse to explain it to you? 

You can’t imagine a world where he would betray you so badly that you’d divorce him and never speak again. But again, it’s been nine years. People do change. But you felt it in your bones…the happiness that coursed through his body when he was with you. You could feel how much he loves you. So then, what? 

You touch the screen of your phone that rests by your thigh on the sofa, the light is bright and blinding but you catch the time on the screen. It’s after 6 am already. Your mind working in overdrive to come to some sort of conclusion. But you realize you aren’t considering everything. 

You cannot be blind to the world around you. 

Your parents must know you’re divorced but why are they so willing to agree to your marriage? Why did they only seem happy? Why do they still love Jungkook despite that you’re divorced now? They still trust him, that is obvious.

But Misuk doesn’t. And Subin seems to be on the rocks but she doesn’t seem totally against him either. In fact, you overheard her in the café. She said they don’t know everything. You remember that being strange. Know what?

But in the end, you need to consider Jungkook the most. 

You two are apparently not together. And you two aren’t on speaking terms.

Then…is his apartment really his apartment? Suddenly, you feel even more lifeless at the thought. You can’t imagine the Jungkook you’ve always known…someone warm, cozy and tidy…living in that place. The countless bottles of alcohol, the little to no food, the stale air and even a hole in the wall that resembles too closely to the size of his fist. 

You also need to consider his reaction to everything as well.

You know in your heart of hearts…how off and conflicted he’s been since the beginning. You also know how hard things must have been for him as well. But you can’t help but still feel hurt, angry and bitter at the fact that he easily lied to you and kept up a façade about something you dreamed of. Making you feel like a fool for being so openly happy with him. When it wasn’t the truth. 

And maybe you are a fool.

A fool because 33 year old you might have the resolve to never speak to Jungkook but you, the you that exists now, doesn’t. And your brain is calling you a fool. Because it’s just a game for your brain. Your brain that hides all the answers and the truth. While you sit here completely clueless.

Clueless…

Clue…less…

Clue…?

Have there been any clues? Clues to the truth that you’ve missed? 

Think. You need to think.

You sit forward on your couch, elbows on your thighs while your head falls into your hands. 

You have to think. What are you missing that could—

The attic.

Your body moves quickly, suddenly standing from the couch when your head snaps towards the direction of the hallway. The attic…he hid your life away in the attic. You returned his keys to him—obviously—but you don’t think you locked it back up. Unless Jungkook went out of your sight to make sure it was locked again…then it should be unlocked and waiting for you to reveal your life. 

Your heart has seemed to return back inside your chest, racing wildly and uncontrollably, making you feel dizzy. You just have to take the first step in the attic’s direction and you could possibly uncover more. 

But you don’t move. Why? Why is it that you’re desperate for answers but your feet stay glued to the wooden floors? 

Fear has made you its prisoner once again.

But you need to release the shackles, break free and run out. Run far away from this thing that’s jailing you. Ignorance isn’t something you associate yourself with and you won’t start now.

Determined, though afraid, you take the first step. Then another. And another. Feet heavy with each step but you take them. You’re you. You will always walk towards the right thing. Even when others disagree…you know, the right thing is the truth. Because you will not be ignorant. 

You make it inside the mostly empty guest bedroom. It’s almost hotel like, no personal touch can be seen. For the first time, you feel odd being inside here. But not odd in the way that feels uncomfortable. But odd because it’s familiar. You take a moment, hand lifted towards the bedroom wall, flipping the light switch before your fingers lightly brush against the wall.

The paint in here is newer than the painted walls in the rest of the house. 

A weird feeling accompanies your touch.

But once your eyes land on the ladder you placed against the wall, you’re quick to shake off any other feelings before grabbing it, lifting it and taking it out into the hallway and setting it up underneath the attic door before you groan in realization that you don’t even need it. 

If it’s unlocked then you only have to pull the string and it should open. 

And hopefully that’s the case.

You slide the ladder off to the side, deciding you’ll put it away again when you’re finished. You stare up at the ceiling, eyes on the dangling string and you know what you must do. You have to fight off this hesitance, this fear and walk towards the truth that tries so desperately to hide from you. Okay. Deep breath. Any breath at this point. You reach up, fingers wrapped around the string tightly before you give it a tug. 

Your eyes expand when the door cracks open, clearly not enough pull to open it fully. 

It’s unlocked.

Heart still racing, blood rushing and insides twisting. You pull again. Harder. And the door opens and the wooden staircase comes down and you unfold it to its full length. All you have to do is go up these steps and search through the physical evidence of your life. The boxes. 

Your breaths are bated with each step you take that take you into the hole in the ceiling. The darkness feels consuming and you feel the chill wrap around your body the moment you enter inside. Walking further, you find the light and now a soft yellow makes the room glow. 

The boxes glare at you. Challenging you. ‘go ahead, open me.’ They whisper tauntingly. You glance around, feeling a chill at all the cob webs and no doubt, spider webs in the dark corners of the attic.

Fingers brush against the top of a few boxes, dust left on your fingertips, quickly wiping it off on your pants before you pry the first box open. It’s the same first box you opened last time…loose papers, notebooks, random sticky notes with words that make zero sense to you. You grab one notebook, open it and read the first page.

Jeez, your hand writing is messy.

Kim Joo Won > only Wednesdays and Fridays

Geum Jan Di > Mon-Fri

Cha Do Hyun > Tues-fri

Park Hae Yeoung > Tues and Thurs only

Lee Min Ho > Mon-fri

Park Jiyoo > Thurs and Friday  was off the Friday…see where he was. Confirmed out of town since Wednesday

You keep reading over the paper but you don’t understand what you’re reading. Your confusion grows…why do you have a list of people and days of the week connected to their names?

You turn the page and there’s a list of times now. Ranging from morning to the evening. With each persons name linked somewhere with a time of…are these work hours? Clock in and clock out times? 

You turn the page again but you can’t read your handwriting. Many words are scribbled out. 

You decide to close the notebook and set it back inside the box. You grab another notebook, opening it to a random page when you notice different pictures of people taped to the paper. Men and women with their names written next to them. Your eyes go wide. You see the name Lee Jaesung written next to a photo of a man you’re sure you recognize. 

It’s the man from the super market.

Next to his name is more scribbled words.

Lee Jaesung > Knows nothing.

And next to his picture and the words are pen scribbles that look done out of frustration.

What the hell is this? Why is the guy from the market inside this notebook with a bunch of other people?

You close the notebook, placing it inside again while you ignore this eerie feeling.

You push the box away and open another one. It’s the box with old clothes you had seen last time as well. You must have been wanting to donate them or something. You’re about to close the box when something catches your eye. On a piece of folded fabric beneath other articles of clothing, your eyes catch something that throws you off. A small patch of a cutesy koala clearly ironed onto the fabric. Your fingers go to touch it, curious about it for some odd reason. You pick at the little koala, the corners lifting off the fabric and you realize it might have been there a while and it’s starting to peel off.

It's cute, you think. 

You decide to look at your shirt in whole, hands suddenly digging it out of the box, unfolding the shirt when your heart stops. Face completely focused on what you’re holding and you can’t seem to shake off the feeling that consumes you. Your confusion grows. 

The shirt is small. Too small to be yours. 

Suddenly, your skin feels cold and clammy. Your brows pull so close together, dropping the shirt to the ground when your hands go back inside the box. You pull out more of the clothing. Clothing you are now realizing is not fit for an adult. Tiny shirts, tiny pants. You drop all of the random articles to the ground and at the very bottom of the box…tiny shoes.

These are clothes for children.

Boys clothes. 

Your fingers grab at the clothes frantically, your breaths growing heavier and heavier.

What is this? Why do you have this? 

You abandon the box, heart racing even faster as you make your way towards the other side of the attic where you found the box that held your old wedding photo. You need to breathe, you remind yourself. You’re no good if you pass out from lack of oxygen filling your lungs. 

But something haunting is crawling creepily over your skin.

You swallow hard, hands rubbing against your arms as if trying to brush away the spiders that must be crawling all over you with their millions of legs. But you only feel the unwanted goosebumps infecting your skin. 

Once again hesitant…you stare at the box that’s half open. The box that held the photo. 

You slowly reach for the left flap, lifting it and giving yourself a full view of the rest of the box. There’s more frames and you wonder if you can handle seeing more pictures of you and Jungkook living a life you don’t know of. 

You gather your resolve, taking a shaky breath before reaching inside. 

It’s a framed photo of you, Jungkook and your parents. You set it to the side before reaching in again. Framed photo of you and Jungkook at that park. A framed photo of you, Jungkook, Misuk, Subin and people you don’t recognize at a long dinner table. A framed photo of you and a group of people you don’t know holding up a ‘congrats on the promotion’ sign. 

Your hands shake, seeing yourself in all of these scenarios you don’t recall. 

Reaching the end of the box, you see one last photo of you and Jungkook wearing headbands that say ‘2017’ while sharing a kiss. 

You need to breathe. No matter how overwhelming this is…you need to breathe. 

You organize the photos back inside the box before pushing it away and opening another one. A really dusty one. You notice this box is taped closed and you struggle with peeling the tape back and getting it open. But once it is, you slowly open the flaps and reveal what is inside.

Again, your heart is aggressively throwing itself against your chest.

You are confused again. Slowly dipping your hands inside, you pull out a toy car. You bring it closer to you, inspecting the toy. A stabbing pain hits you relentlessly in your lower stomach. You carefully set it down before digging inside the box again, this time pulling out a zoo animals Lego set box. You don’t like this. Your brain is sending signals through your body again. You aren’t supposed to like this. Your brain is warning you.

You swallow even harder, your throat feeling tight and dry. 

You reach inside the box again and pull out a plastic robot, maybe around 6 inches in height. It looks like the most used toy so far…scratches across the plastic and even a missing hand. You turn it around, twisting it to look more carefully when you notice something written on the bottom of the foot with faded marker.

Haru.

It spells the name Haru. 

Who is Haru?

Your breaths won’t even out and relax. Who is Haru? You bring the toy close to your chest, gripping it tightly but your fingers are feeling weaker and weaker.

You know this toy. You think you do, anyway. It’s the first item in any box that feels familiar to you. And you aren’t sure what to feel about that.

Your lips are drying and even when you poke your tongue out to lick them, it doesn’t help. They continue to dry with an intensity that has you mistaking this cold air for the dessert. 

You place the robot back into the box, closing it softly before turning towards another box. 

You have to keep going.

Even though you aren’t sure how you will survive the rest of your searching.

Your chest aches. A physical pain from the pounding of your heart.

You reach for another box, sliding it towards you but it’s heavy. Heavy like the box that held photos. You get it opened and your breath hitches the moment you see this box also has photos. On top, a picture of Jungkook brushing his teeth in the bathroom mirror. His sleepy eyes and sad attempt at a peace sign. You hate that your eyes are stinging.

You grab another frame, eyes narrowing at the photo.

A picture of you and Jungkook at the park with his hand over your stomach as you both smile.

No…

Your chest rises and falls much faster. 

You reach for another photo and you don’t mean to shakily gasp, eyes burning at the sight. Your stomach looks huge in the photo, Jungkook’s face pushed up against it while you’re laughing. 

You aren’t capable of registering what the fuck you’re looking at. Your hands shake harder, the photo suddenly looking blurry. That can’t be you. That isn’t you. It’s not you.

“W-What…” Your voice is barely audible to your own ears. 

Your entire body goes rigid and cold.

You set the photo down before reaching for another one and as soon as you look at it, your shaky hands drop it. A loud slam to the attic floor and glass shattering at your feet. You blink at nothing, tears welling as you feel the blood completely drain from your face. You’re shocked frozen. Quick breaths that make you feel like you’re dying. 

You try so hard to snap out of it but how could you? How could you process the broken framed photo at your feet? How could you? 

You squat down, trembling fingers wiping away the hundreds of pieces of glass. The shards are sharp but nothing feels more piercing than the image that stares back at you. You pick up the picture, eyes blinking rapidly, ridding the tears that are forming. Tears because how could you understand and accept what you’re seeing?

You in a hospital bed with Jungkook’s arms around you. You both look ecstatic, teary eyed and smiling widely while in your arms…is a baby.

A baby.

You scoff underneath your breath. A baby.

Don’t you mean…your baby?

Immediately, just at the thought, you truly begin to panic.

There is no way. No fucking way you had a child. A child with Jungkook. You can’t believe this because nothing has felt more fucking unreal than this and nothing feels scarier. You don’t remember this. This can’t be you. This isn’t you. You aren’t you.

You drop the frame again, the loud thud making you wince before you step away slowly. Your eyes anxiously dart around again. The boxes are once again taunting you. You can’t. You can’t be in here anymore. You can’t do this anymore. You don’t want this anymore. You don’t want this life anymore. You want a life you can recognize but this is too far out of your element for you. This isn’t your life. This isn’t you. This isn’t you. This isn’t you.

Your breaths grow heavier, chest getting tighter and you’re wondering what it’s like to breathe because you don’t remember the last time you did now. Not normally, anyway. Your eyes can’t blink back tears anymore. You’re too overwhelmed to stop yourself from sobbing. Sobbing hard and uncontrollably. Pathetic whines leaving your mouth as you tremble at the sight of this attic. 

You need to get out of here.

You quickly turn the light off, stumble down the steps and without bothering to close the attic, you rush to the living room and collapse to the sofa. 

Tears flooding your cheeks. Sobs wracking your body. Misery consuming your soul. 

You are a mother?

Were a mother?

Where is this Haru?

Is Jungkook hiding an entire child? Perhaps Haru is with Jungkook’s parents? 

Everyone agreed to keep a fucking child from you? 

They shouldn’t have kept this from you. Sure, you’re 24 in your mind and nowhere near ready for a fucking child. But you birthed this kid and have no clue who he is. Your brain won’t even give you a piece of a memory that deals with someone you should love dearly.

Anger. Guilt. You aren’t sure what to feel right now.

But devastation for this entire thing should be a good start.

And you think you truly deserve that explanation.

You stuff your face into the cushion of the sofa you’ve grown to love and you cry. You cry hard and you cry loudly. You soak the sofa with your tears and you wonder how you could possibly accept this. Accept something that not only doesn’t feel real…but can’t be real.

You imagined marrying your best friend and that’s a place you could start. A place that was easy to accept. But this? This is hardly something you can recognize as a life of your own.

And you need Jungkook to tell you everything now.

Or you might truly go insane.

You don’t care it’s the ass crack of dawn, you feel for your phone that you know you left here on the couch and when you feel it, you bring it to your puffy face and try to find Jungkook’s name through your blurry vision. And you call him.

He must not be sleeping either because he answers before the first ring is even over.

“Hello? y/n?”

You don’t hide the fact you’re crying, “Come over. Now.” And you hang up.

~

Jungkook sits next to you, body turned towards you, completely stunned. You’re looking weak, unable to look at him for too long without growing emotional. He’s guilty. He lied to you. And you’re upset. But your puffy, red eyes has his heart aching dully in his chest. 

“Please talk to me, y/n…yell at me, hit me, anything you want but please say something.” He quietly begs you. He doesn’t dare reach for you, though his hands yearn to. Instead, he drums his fingers against his thigh.

You’re still unable to look at him, your brain still trying to process everything. But you know you need to speak up and get real answers. Answers that are the truth. And you need to hear them from Jungkook, himself. 

“I went,” You pause, trying to clear your throat but it still burns, feeling tight. “I went into the attic.” 

Jungkook’s fingers come to a sudden stop. “You what?” 

You finally lift your eyes to him, “I said I went into the attic.”

His face pales.

“I saw a lot of things.” Your gaze flickers down again, eyes stinging once more. “I saw that I was pregnant. I found his—Haru’s things…” 

Jungkook stares at you, pain and terror flashing in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering the moment you said Haru’s name. 

“We have a child and you didn’t say any—”

“—I…I…” He chokes on his words, his entire body tensing like it’s on the verge of shutting down.

“We have a son together and you didn’t mention anything?” You give him a hard stare, eyes looking cold and you see how he physically shatters under your gaze. He shatters just like the glass in the attic. He too is at your feet. At least it feels that way. “Say something Jung—“

“—Fuck!” He cries out, eyes slamming shut as his shoulders and chest begin to quake. “I can’t fucking do this.” He breathes out roughly, “I can’t do this again.” 

Your head pushes back in slight shock, “Do what?”

“Go through this.” He bows his head, silent tears falling to his lap. “I can’t tell you again.”

You feel struck with something eerie, “Tell me what again?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. He isn’t able to. He chokes on his words, chokes on his breaths and chokes on his tears. He’s shattered but there is nothing sharp or piercing about him. He’s soft around all edges. He’s soft. And he’s devastated.

“I’m—I’m not r-ready.” He cries into his hands. “This ha-happened too q-quickly. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t…I can’t…” 

You feel the urge to reach for him and you do, your fingers going to the back of his head, massaging his scalp and neck. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” You suddenly feel worried. 

Jungkook won’t calm down. A harsh reality suddenly all around you both. 

“Where is Haru, Jungkook? Why are you crying? Is he with your parents?” You ask him question after question and he only cries harder. You’re trying to piece it together. Where is your son? The kid you gave birth to? The one you don’t remember? He’s not…he can’t be…?

“Is he…dead?” You ask the question slowly between long breaths. “Is he—”

“—No!” Jungkook finally lifts his head, swollen eyes on you. “He’s not. He isn’t. He isn’t. He-He can’t be. Haru is…” He shakes his head violently, “He isn’t. Haru is alive. He’s…”

“Jungkook…” You see the pain and terror in his eyes still. And maybe pain and terror have always lived inside his irises. And you never understood it until now. “What happened?”

Jungkook wipes his face aggressively, trying his hardest to clean himself from his sorrowful tears. He takes deep breaths, eyes falling to yours where he seeks comfort.

“A little—a little over two years ago…” Jungkook takes another deep breath. “Haru….” He pauses, struggling to say it.

“What happened…?” Your heart is racing again.

“He—He was kidnapped. He was taken from us, y/n.” Jungkook spills the truth. The words fall from him mouth like vomit. “He was abducted and he—he hasn’t been found.”

You aren’t really processing this. You can barely believe you have a child. But now you have to believe this child is missing. You aren’t understanding. How could you?

“W-What?” You drop your hand from his hair. “What are you talking about Jungkook?”

He sighs out heavily, silent tears still leaving a miserable trail down his cheeks. “Haru was taken.” 

Haru…your son…was taken?

“And they closed the case. Too fucking early but they closed the case. They presume he’s…they don’t think he’s…” He can’t say it. But you hear him loud and clear. The police gave up on looking because they believe he’s dead.

You do feel sad. Maybe even heartbroken. But there is a disconnect because none of this sounds real to you. 

You look down at your lap, “This…this is around the time we got divorced?”

Jungkook chokes on a silent sob, “We divorced soon after.” He admits to you, “Losing my boy, losing you…and I lost my job eventually too.”

You look back up to him, “Why?”

His expression twists, shame gracing his features. “I was a mess, y/n. I couldn’t…I couldn’t handle myself or control myself. Finding Haru was all I could focus on but it led to too many bad things and eventually…Captain Kim, he felt for me.” Jungkook wipes his face again, “But they couldn’t keep me anymore.” 

Your heart sinks at his admission.

Jungkook has been suffering on his own while you are lost on all this trauma. 

This was obviously hard on both of you. It was too hard on both of you. He couldn’t handle himself? Control himself? But what about you? What were you like in all of this? 

Are you lucky that you don’t remember? 

Or is not knowing even worse?

“Okay…it’s okay…” You whisper towards Jungkook. Your heart mending itself from all the broken pieces because it makes sense now. Why Jungkook lied. Why he’s been so careful with you finding things out. Because this is…a lot. But right now, you want to comfort him. Because no matter what 33 year old you was going through…24 year old you just wants to hug her best friend.

~~~

It's been a few days since you found out about Haru. A little boy who doesn’t feel real to you. 

He was three years old when he was kidnapped.

And if he is still alive…he should be five now.

You’ve been detached and numb, unable to face anyone quite yet. Jungkook checks on you but suddenly, meeting his gaze has become harder. And you think he agrees. This is a huge shock for you and you see how repeating this news is just as hard for Jungkook. He’s burdened with something miserable that lingers in his eyes.

You finally decide to reach out to your parents today.

Needing them to know that you know everything now. 

You call your mom, phone to your ear as you listen for each ring until her sweet voice is calling a melodic ‘hello!’. 

“Hey.” You mumble into the phone, “Is dad with you?”

“Your dad?” Your mom sounds far from the phone, “Hold on, I’m putting away some groceries. Almost done!”

You smile a little, “Okay.”

After some shuffling in the background, you hear your moms voice in your ear now. “Okay! What’s up?”

“Is dad with you?” You repeat your question.

“Oh.” Your mom sighs out, “Nope. He’s with Jungkook’s father, they’re out playing golf.”

“Oh.”

“Why? Is everything okay? Are you trying to get a hold of him? Is he not answering?”

“No, no.” You shake your head, though she can’t see you. “I wanted to talk to both of you…but it’s okay. You can just fill him in.”

“Fill him in?”

“I know me and Jungkook are divorced.” You say the words quickly. “Why did you pretend we were married?”

It’s silent. Just soft breaths barely audible on the other line. “Well,” Your mom finally breathes out, “I think it was easier that way.” She admits. “You two love each other very much so I just didn’t see the issue.”

You scoff, “We’re divorced yet you—”

“—It’s not like he’s a bad guy. Or you’re bad, either.” She cuts in. “Things just…”

“I know about Haru.” You tell her. You hear how she inhales a sharp breath.

“H-Haru…” She repeats slowly, “You know because…?”

“I found out.” You tell her, “I don’t have my memories.”

Your mom is quiet on the other line before you hear her sniffling.

“Mom?”

She takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.” Her voice is shaky. “This isn’t fair for you, honey. I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, “It’s not like I remember.”

“You know…after the abduction…” Your mom grows more and more emotional, “There were days where I wished I could take your pain and heartbreak away. But not remembering your son is also another pain and heartbreak.”

You don’t mean to get teary eyed at that. You try to keep your voice even. “I-I guess.”

“After everything…” Your mom clears her throat, “You really shut down. Of course you did. You’re a mother who lost her child. But…you just…you shut everyone out. You didn’t really talk to me or dad much anymore and we felt helpless. How couldn’t we feel that way?” 

“Mom…”

“We were devastated when you filed for divorced.” She says. “You and Jungkook were both heartbroken and in a bad place…it was obviously too much for both of you. But instead of figuring it out together…you fell apart.”

You divorced…because losing Haru was too much to bear?

Your heart sinks deeper. You can’t imagine what Jungkook felt.

Or you. But you won’t understand that one until you feel it again one day when your memories return.

“The pain was too much but I wish you would have stayed together…what you needed was each other.” 

“Oh.”

“And…we’re all devastated about Haru. But seeing the both of you completely broken…was another heartbreak we had to feel.”

~

You’ve thought about the conversation you had with your mom earlier all day. You sit here, trying to analyze her words. But they aren’t hard to understand. She claims you and Jungkook fell apart and divorced because the pain of losing your son was too unbearable. And you realize it is a solid reason. 

Your foot taps against your wooden floor, anxiously waiting for Misuk and Subin to arrive. You sent them a long text explaining everything and they said they’d be over as soon as possible. But you’re anxious. Anxious that even they know about a son you gave birth to when even you don’t. Anxious because you realize you feel guilty over it. Guilty you can’t remember something that is supposed to be precious. 

You sit here when your hands fly to your forehead when it suddenly starts pounding. A horrible ache pushing against your skull and you wince at the pain. Shit, you haven’t taken your medicine today. Standing from your sofa, you intend to walk to the kitchen but fists get knocked against your front door.

They’re here.

Taking a deep breath, your feet take you to them instead. And as soon as the door is opening, Subin and Misuk bring you into their arms while they whisper their apologies and sorrows. You wish you were still numb. But you aren’t. You tremble in their hold instead and let yourself cry into their arms.

After several minutes and your determination to calm yourself, you finally pull away from the girls and offer a small smile. “Sorry.” You try to laugh to ease your sadness.

Subin pouts at you, “No.”

“Don’t say sorry.” Misuk smiles at you, “I’m sorry. Sorry for everything…you overheard me and it all turned out like this…”

“Well, you aren’t wrong.” You bump her shoulder. “Let’s sit.”

You girls walk into your living room and plop down onto the sofa. “This sucks.” You try to laugh but your chest feels heavy. “How is it that my life turned out like this?”

“I know…” Misuk frowns. “I really am sorry that things spiraled and you found things out like this…I hated lying to you. I hated seeing everyone lie to you. You deserved to know the truth because I know that’s…” She bites her lip, worry written all over her face. “That’s what you’d want. But I truly don’t know what would have been worse…finding out like this or finding out because your memories returned and everything would hit you like a ton of bricks.” You glance down at your hands, trying to mull over her words. You think she’s right. But you think she’s right in a way of the you who would want it this way because you didn’t know any better.

“I just,” You sigh out, “I just can’t believe me and Jungkook’s marriage failed when we needed each other most.”

Your head snaps up when you hear Misuk scoff.

“What?” You question her while she narrows her eyes at nothing. “What is it?”

The space between her eyebrows crease, “Your marriage didn’t fail because of your mutual heartbreak over Haru’s abduction, y/n.” She finally meets your eye. “Is that what you think?”

For the millionth time, your heart beat grows faster. “What do you mean?”

“Your marriage failed because you blamed Jungkook for it.”

Your heart comes to a complete stop. “What?”

“You blamed him for the kidnapping.” She clarifies, “But I guess Jungkook conveniently left that part out.”

“What…what are you—“

“—Misuk.” Subin says her name with a harsh, cold tone. “Enough already.” 

“What?!” Misuk grows frustrated, eyes on Subin now. “She already knows this much—”

“—You don’t even know everything!” Subin cuts her off, “It’s not like we even know what y/n was thinking at that time! She didn’t even…” She suddenly gets quieter, her eyes going to you now. “She…you…” She meets your surprised gaze at her outburst. “You barely even spoke to us after the incident.”

You feel cold all of the sudden.

“You…” Subin tears her gaze away, “You got so distant. And we don’t blame you, of course we don’t blame you. But,” She looks at Misuk again, “How could you blame Jungkook for that?”

“y/n had her reasons!” Misuk throws back at Subin, “She told me herself.”

“It was fucking vague.” Subin rolls her eyes.

“Yeah? Well it was hint enough.” 

You look between the girls, their own tension forming between their bodies. “Wait, wait. Just hold on. What is happening?”

Subin looks at you again, “Nothing.”

“No.” You shake your head, “What is Misuk talking about?”

“Look,” Misuk takes a deep breath. “All I know is that you blame Jungkook. Before Haru was taken…it was clear your marriage was rocky even then. You didn’t talk about it though. But something was wrong.” Misuk fills you in even when Subin glares at her. “And I trust you.” 

On one hand, you’re flattered Misuk is such a ride or die. But on the other hand, you’re only left feeling more and more confused. 

But Jungkook’s voice is in your head now.

Him asking you to always trust him. 

It doesn’t sound like Misuk has solid evidence to be so against Jungkook. She only has your word. And since you can’t trust your own self right now. You’ll believe in Jungkook.

~~~

You want to believe in Jungkook. But Misuk’s warning words remain ringing in your head. You lay here in bed, mind racing with theories that make you want to vomit. Your head still hurts and something odd keeps bothering you. Like a memory wants to push itself out of your brain but it keeps holding it back.

You toss and turn in bed. The same numbness has returned. 

You don’t think you mind. You accept the numb sensation that takes over your body from the inside out, you disappear with it. You’re grateful because it provides the escape from the raw reality that you suffer. 

It is a preference.

Rather than feeling overwhelmed with a million emotions chaotically colliding inside your brain…you feel nothing but guilt from escaping. And you prefer this guilt over others.

You turn your head to the right, towards the window, when you feel your phone vibrating against your mattress.

Who is calling at this hour?

Grabbing your phone and looking at the screen, you see Jungkook’s name. Is he so lucky to escape too? Or is he in the reality where he suffers?

“Hello?” You murmur into the phone. 

“Hey,” Jungkook speaks quietly, “Um…I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Cute that you think I’d be able to sleep.” You half joke. “What’s up?”

Jungkook sighs into the phone, “Honestly…if you’re up for it. Want to talk? In person?”

You sit up from bed, “In person?”

“Yeah.” You suddenly hear soft, distant knocks on your front door. “I’m kind of already here.”

You lower the phone to your chest, head turned in the direction of your open bedroom door, where you know Jungkook is in the distance outside at your front door.

You quickly end the call, standing from the bed when you make your way to him. Door opening and a gust of wind enters your house with his scent carried with it, hitting your nostrils and you melt. But you shouldn’t.

“Hey.” You nod towards the inside of your home. “Come in.”

Jungkook gives you a timid smile before walking in, slipping his shoes off and going to the couch.

“I—”

“—Actually,” You cut him off before he can say anything. “I want to lay down. I feel…drained.” You admit to him with a tired smile, “Can we lay in my bed? Just to lay. And talk.”

Jungkook looks conflicted but he sees how exhausted you clearly are. “Okay.” He whispers, “We can.”

You lead him to your bedroom, for some reason you go to the side of the bed closest to the window even though you usually sleep on the side closest to the door. You lay on top of the blanket and rest your head atop the fluffy pillow. 

Jungkook takes a breath before climbing into the bed as well. A small smile threatening to pull his lips apart. You notice.

“What?” You question him but he shakes his head, suppressing the smile.

“No, it’s just…this is my side of the bed. And that’s yours. It’s like your body remembered even if you don’t.” He tells you quietly, a shy expression on his face. “It’s silly to think about that, I guess.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm. Embarrassment clear on your face. “Oh.” You’re both facing one another.

“Um, it’s—” Jungkook rests his head against the pillow but he pauses because he’s sure he feels something. “What’s…” He reaches underneath and his curious gaze turns somber. “Haru’s robot…” He whispers, the toy in his hands.

You grow more fucking embarrassed.

“Oh shit.” You blurt, completely forgetting it was under that pillow. “I just…it…” It was the one item in the attic that felt even a little familiar to you so you went back up to get it. “I felt…connected to it somehow.” You admit to him.

Jungkook nods slowly, “That makes sense. Haru wouldn’t go anywhere without this thing. The bath, to daycare, to Busan, any car ride—” He laughs a little. “Even needed this friend when his stomach hurt and he had to poop.” 

You crack a smile, “Thanks, that makes me feel great for having it under my pillow now.”

“Eh, I’m sure it’s clean. You always made sure everything was clean for him.” Jungkook lowers the robot to the mattress, “I know you aren’t aware. But you’re the best mom in the world.”

Heat crawls up your neck, “That feels weird to hear.”

“I know.” Jungkook frowns but he tries not to. “But you should hear it.”

“Should I?”

“Yeah.” He tells you with earnest eyes. “He reminded me all of the time that you were the best mommy in the world. He,” Jungkook breaks into a small grin, quietly chuckling when he sorts through his own memories. “I remember when I would take him to work and in front of everyone I would tell him I love him and he would respond with, ‘and I love mommy.’ Such a brat, that kid.” He laughs, keeping his emotions at bay. 

You can’t help but giggle too. 

 “He was always changing. One minute he would be outgoing and talk to anyone and the next he was guarded and shy. And I know all kids say wild stuff but he really said the wildest stuff.” Jungkook continues to smile. “I never knew what crazy thing he would say in public that would make me look like a questionable dad. Swear he did it on purpose.” 

“He sounds fun.”

“He is. Never bored around him.” Jungkook’s smile turns so soft. “He always slept through the night too. Once he was out…that was it until the morning. He might have been a pain in the ass sometimes but I really appreciated it that because,” Jungkook’s soft smile drops and his gaze darkens with something coy, “He never interrupted my time with you.” 

More heat envelopes your body. “That so?”

“Heavy sleeper too.” Jungkook tells you, “Never knew what we were up to.”

He finally cracks a teasing smile and you push his chest with a small laugh. “Shush.”

Jungkook still smiles at you but it turns more serious. “I know this is all…a lot for you. But being able to talk about Haru with you feels…” He sighs before swallowing his emotions. “It makes me believe in living again.”

You pinch your brows together, “What do you mean?”

“I think I’ve only been surviving.” He admits. “I haven’t felt alive since the last time we were really together.” 

Without thinking, you reach for him. Palm resting flat against his beating heart. “You feel alive to me.” You whisper.

“That’s because you’re here.” He whispers back, “This,” He taps your hand, talking about his heart. “Hasn’t made a single sound until you told me you loved me.” 

You wish his words wouldn’t affect you. But 24 year old you is affected. Because 33 year old you isn’t here right now. 

You aren’t sure if that’s good or bad. 

“Can I ask you something?” You gaze into his eyes. His eyes are soft and might you say, full of love when he nods quickly.

“You’re working on a case with your ex-partner Jimin…is it about Haru?”

Jungkook slowly closes his eyes when he frowns, “I can’t tell you anything about it, y/n…I can’t involve you.”

You sigh, “Okay.” Then you ask him something else. Feeling direct. “Misuk doesn’t trust you. Why?”

Jungkook suddenly looks annoyed. “Because she doesn’t know anything. It’s all assumptions on her end but you trust me, right?”

You think you do. So you nod.

“When your memories return…can you still trust me?” He asks you, but it sounds like he didn’t direct the question towards you at all. And that causes an uneasiness to stir.

But still, you are choosing him right now.

You glance to his chest and notice your hand is still against him and you laugh a little, “Sorry. I’m still touching you.”

“It’s okay.”

“I swear I’m not trying to throw myself at you.” And then you scrunch up your features. “Oh no, that’s what I was doing, right? Previously…I was totally forcing myself on you.” 

Jungkook can’t help but snort a little, smiling tugging at his lips. “You didn’t force yourself on me, y/n.”

Now it’s your turn to snort, “Liar.”

His fingers go to your hand again, softly drumming them across the top of your hand and you feel his heart beat harder. “And why would I ever lie to you?” 

You feel the vibration against your skin when each of his fingers land with a rhythmic beat. You recall this sound like a melody and his words are the lyrics. 

You notice how it feels when he basically sings his silent promise to you.

“Yeah, you’d never lie to me, right?” You ask, voice cracking. “Not really, right?”

Jungkook’s fingers come to a stop before he’s wrapping them around your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.” 

You quickly shake your head, “No, I can understand.” Your voices quivers. “I was angry. But I can understand.”

“I never lied about my feelings, you know?” He keeps holding your hand in his. “I do love you. I have for so long and I’m never going to stop.”

He’s staring so intently into your eyes and you’re wondering how you couldn’t trust this man. You can see his heart in his eyes and it’s beating so wildly for you.

~~~

The market is busy. It seems everyone is trying to do their grocery shopping today. You and Subin roam the aisles, plucking items off the shelves with giddy smiles. You’re going to bake Jungkook his favorite homemade cookies. You finally found the recipe books and wrote down all the ingredients. 

Thankfully, since it will be your first time giving it a go, Subin has offered to help you. You’re both searching for vanilla but it seems that either they’re out or you’re totally missing it.

“What if we just skip the vanilla?” You say nonchalantly but Subin gasps.

“Bakers all around the world all have a tear running down their face right now not knowing the reason why all because you just said that!” She says dramatically, “Vanilla is crucial!”

You can’t but laugh, “Yeah, yeah.”

“We still need brown sugar too, right?” Subin eyes the shelves. “Is it just me or is it so unorganized?”

“You know how people are,” You shrug. “When they don’t want an item anymore they just stick it anywhere.” Then you point at something, “That explains why there’s a package of uncooked chicken on the shelf with flour.”

“That can’t be safe.” Subin shudders. “Anyway, did you already grab the chips Jungkook wanted?” She eyes your cart, “You’ll totally forget. Go grab them and I’ll finish finding the vanilla and brown sugar.” She grins at you with rosy cheeks. 

“Oh I did totally forget.” You say, glancing at the cart as well. You look up at the aisle numbers and search for the word ‘chips’. “Sweet, it’s only two aisles over. Be right back!”

You walk over to aisle four, eyes browsing all of the chip options when you spot a few you ‘d like as well.

“Hmm, these ones.” You grab a bag, “And these ones.” Another bag. “Oh, yes…these ones too…” You hold three bags in your arms. “Right, I need to get Jungkook’s too.” You whisper, eyes searching for the brand he wanted. You smile when you spot them, trying your best to carry the three bags in one arm while you reach for the other bag. On your tip toes, you grab it and successfully hold all four bags. Feeling accomplished, you quickly turn around but bump into someone, dropping all of your chips.

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” You apologize to the stranger. Your eyes meet and you’re met with the familiarity like you are every time. “Oh. Nabi.” You say her name like you two are fully acquainted. 

Nabi stares at you wide eyed before offering a smile. “Hi.” She says before glancing around, her kind eyes suddenly looking anxious. “How are you? Um, here…let me help—”

“—Oh no, it’s okay!” You smile. But you both bend down at the same time, bumping heads and you’re about to giggle about it but suddenly it’s like images start flashing in your mind. You try to brush it off, reaching down to grab the chips instead of focusing on whatever images you saw that don’t make sense.

You reach for a bag at the same time as Nabi and when your hands touch, you swear the world goes completely still. Your eyes meet in panic and suddenly more images are speeding around in your brain and before you know it, they aren’t just images. But full on scenarios.

And for the first time, they do make sense.

You pull your hand back quickly, eyes blinking rapidly while you try to step back.

“y/n?” Nabi’s kind eyes turn concerned. “Hey, are you okay?”

You take another step back. 

Blood draining from your body. 

These aren’t just scenarios.

These are memories.

You stare at her, bewildered. Your panicked breathes leaving your mouth quickly as you try to ease your nerves. “Um,” You swallow thickly. “I—I…” Your fingers begin to tremble and you’re unable to hold the chips anymore.

Nabi watches you carefully, “Are you—”

You don’t let her finish, your feet taking you far from here. Panicked, anxious and alert…you race back to Subin and the moment she sees you, the adorable smile gets wiped off her face.

“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately, her hands going to your shoulders. “Hey, talk to me.”

But you’re breathing too quickly, your eyes blown wide. 

“What’s wrong?” She repeats, her worry evident. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Hey, y/n…calm down.”

Calm down?

You can’t calm down. Your breathing is harsh and heavy. Your chest is closing in on itself.

You wanted to trust Jungkook. You wanted to ignore Misuk’s words. You wanted to. Really. But with all the things you’ve just seen fly through your head, and the few new memories that sit tightly tucked inside your brain…you don’t know that you can.

Misuk might not have had any solid reason…but your own memories feel like reason enough.

You’re silently gasping for air, struggling to breathe. But you manage to say the words that make you feel like you’re fucking dying inside. “I know,” You swallow hard. “I know why I blame Jungkook.”

~

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