fractions of memory

Perverted Bunny Mask: Jeon Jungkook x Killer AU ft. Min Yoongi Part 9

| Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3  | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

Perverted Bunny Mask: Jeon Jungkook x Killer AU ft. Min Yoongi Part 9

Author: Taettybear

Words: 4.1 k

Genre: Smut/Gore/Assassins/Killer JK/ Drugs/ Gangs

Rating: M



Originally posted by jimiyoong


Even when growing up, you’ve never acted bratty or whiny because you didn’t have the luxury of being able to do so. You sucked it up and walked on, not looking back as you moved forward.

However, it now seemed like the appropriate time to actually throw a tantrum as you sat in your living room, surrounded by seven males who awkwardly huddled together.

You sat beside Yoongi, nearly sitting on your brother to be as far away as possible to the man who sat on your other side.

Yoongi obviously noticed, however, decided not to comment, his dark eyes staring at Namjoon, your leader who looked deep in thought.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t keep your attention on your leader and Taehyung’s conversation, hating how close Jungkook was to you. You could partially feel his heat on your leg through his black skinny jeans. Even his stare on your face was so heated, you felt like he could burn holes in you any moment. It sent unpleasant shivers through your body and you absolutely despised it.

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We’ve Still Got Time

(ffn + ao3)

In the aftermath of Paris’ attack, Rosaline and Benvolio share a moment of calm as they await their next move. Post-canon picking up right where the finale left off.

Since mostly everyone is (thankfully) writing their own continuations to the story, I thought I’d add to the bunch with a brief headcanon for what happens next.

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A short OQ prompt based on spoilers and my own desires. Photo by Irina @angry_fish on twitter.


He knows things aren’t right. He just feels it deep in his gut.

His therapist says that’s perfectly normal considering the circumstances. After all, who wouldn’t feel out of sorts after waking up from a six-month coma with no memories whatsoever.

Some days he still can’t believe it. An entire lifetime gone. He can’t remember anything no matter how hard he tries. All he knows is what they’ve told him.

His name is Jason Clark. He’s 40 years old. His birthday is June 7th. He used to be a web designer. He lives in Spokane, Washington. In a nice apartment with an English bulldog named Charlie. He lives alone. Doesn’t have much of a family from what he can tell. Not a lot of pictures on the walls. Not a single friend that he’s met, just acquaintances here and there.

A look in the mirror tells him that he has dark brown hair, nearly black, and green eyes. His closet tells him that he favors expensive suits over jeans and hoodies. And judging by his kitchen cabinets he’s apparently a big fan of pasta but none of it sparks a fraction of a memory or emotion. Just more mystery.

His therapist says things will get better. That as time goes by he’ll start to settle and possibly remember more.

But he knows that’s not true.

He’s lived this life for three months and it still doesn’t feel like his.

His apartment doesn’t feel like his home. His face doesn’t feel familiar. Hell, even the dog is acting like it barely knows him.

Things don’t feel right. And he can’t shake the feeling that the life he’s living isn’t his own.

Still, he tries. He takes Charlie on walks, he explores his neighborhood, he tries to find something that will spark his memory all to no avail… until that fateful Friday afternoon.

He’d taken Charlie out to the park, for a stroll near his favorite pond. He can’t remember going there often but Charlie always seems happy there. It’s on their second lap that they run into her.

It’s a complete accident. Charlie had tugged on his leash a bit to harshly and she clearly hadn’t been watching where she was going, so they bumped into each other. He apologizes, only wanting to make sure that she’s okay, when her hand latches onto to his elbow and she stares up at him with wide blue eyes.

“It’s you!” she breathlessly whispers. She says it with so much conviction, her grip on his arm growing tighter as she takes him in. “I’ve been looking for so long…”

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wanting to kiss with lips bathed in charcoal, eager to leave a trail across eyelids and jaw. tenderness the night can only bring, with her silk, wine hair, dark skin and million eyes. a tenderness found in pieces of marble and under wool blankets. to yearn for a love that melts and heals is second nature to desert runners, for we are children of movement and highways. born with hands calloused by the sand and eyes dry from staring at the sun.

only natural to enjoy the warmth of skin to skin, a fraction before the memories set in. humans are so cold. 

we are forever set in motion, flickering at the frequency of neon lights, until someone puts us out. we find the remnants of metal giants half buried in the sand and are jealous of their monumental silence. we have no choice but to walk and dance like distortion on the wavelength. eternally tired and wanting to sleep a sleep filled with love, or dreams of love. 

and we are bound to move until someone takes it upon themselves to put our mask in a shopping cart, and let us rest.

anonymous asked:

Do you know any fic where they are each other new years' kiss? :))

sure love, here are some of them xx

New Year’s Eve Fics

more fics

anonymous asked:

i know you don't write baby drabbles & I completely understand why, but i can still put this out there right? Request: Alison having an emotional breakdown about not being a good mother & that she's scared of treating it the wrong way & Emily reassures her that she is gonna be a great mother & that she's been doing a great job so far (still pregnant) & that they can do it together

Somewhat put a different spin on this because (as I recently discussed with another anon), currently, it seems as though everyone knows Emily is the clear-cut, biological mother of this child whereas Alison is simply carrying it, but I’d personally like to see them reaching the decision/acknowledgment that Alison is more than that.

Thus, this drabble was born:

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        Maleaha watched as the others around her seemed to take their surroundings in with bewilderment. She had to admit that she too felt a sense of wonder as she looked up at the sky. breathed in the air. But there was a sense of doubt crawling its way up her spine. What the hell were they going to do on the ground? Earth studies were one thing. This was completely batshit crazy.  “And this is how we die.” she sighed out with a shake of her head. It was a little dramatic but falling from the sky in a space ship seemed a bit dramatic if you asked her. 

and it’s okay that from then on all he ever did was break me, because I had my fairytale night. and no nightmare could ever take away one fraction of the beautiful memory I have of you and I that night.
—  letsjolove
Strangling Thread - Pt. 1

Jumin x MC

I decided to write a Fanfic for Mystic Messenger as I have fallen in love with the game!
Angst and Fluff :)

PART 2: Here

It was 30 days after the RFA party and he could no longer sit still. MC was missing and he was ordered by his father to remain present within this board meeting listening to the monotone voices go on and on about statistics, and profitable futures for the company. He clutched his phone in his hand waiting for the slightest buzz to notify him of her reappearance and relieve him from this hell. But it remained silent. Jaehee hovered behind him, watching the broken man struggle to maintain his façade as he crumbles inside. Jaehee’s eyes flick across the table to notice his hand growing white around his phone, the only evidence of his desperate emotions waning his business façade.

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The Closest Thing That Feels Like Home || Arlix

Arthur woke to the soft caress of sheets that weren’t his own and a kind familiar smell he knew all too well. His mouth was dry and his head blurry. Only fractions of memories remaining that would no doubt sew together with time and persuasion. He could remember his attitude, the bitter words that sat on his tongue. He could remember saying something that he felt like he shouldn’t have. His now conscious arms pulled the smaller figure before him closer as he tried to dismiss the worries in the closes thing that felt like home.

“Good morning,” he whispered, delicately kissing the soft skin behind Felix’s ears and relishing in the warmth of his skin. “I’m sorry.”


Don't Go

[pic credit to rightful owner]

The scenario request based on EXO M - Don’t Go.


Kris sat alone on the park bench, hands fisted tight in his coat pocket to keep away from the cold, his entire body vibrating to keep what’s left of body warmth. The night street was almost empty with couples talking in sweet hushed whispers in the runway of streetlamps.

Seoul winter is brutal – he learnt so in his first year in the foreign country. He experienced it all; from roaring wind to thick snow, relentless rain to thunderous storms. The environment surrounding him no longer felt foreign, it was normal to him now. He realized how it has etched itself into his life, so slowly but surely – much like you have.

Memories played out clearly in his head, one after the other. Kris chuckled to himself, knowing exactly how ridiculous and crazy it looked to passing pedestrians, but he didn’t care.


“YiFan…” You tested the name with a quiet whisper, “YiFan…”

Kris smiled, reaching his hand out to touch the corner of your lips. “I like how my name sounds from your mouth.”

The sudden act of intimate contact had shocked you. Kris felt you jolt but didn’t move his hand away. He kept his thumb still on your soft lips, relishing the small intimate contact. The fact you didn’t move away and reject his touch made him happy.

He is aware that dating is still new to you. He doesn’t plan to push it – not on your first visit to his dorm without the rest of EXO around anyway. Kris just wanted some progress; it doesn’t matter how small or insignificant, he just needed something from you.

You looked up to him, peachy blush growing pinker as your lips moved. “YiFan,” you repeated louder, staring straight into his eyes with your own guileless ones.

Kris felt his body reacting involuntarily, or maybe he really wanted it. His fingers moved to hold your chin as he lifted your lips to land his own down.

Fireworks didn’t go off. Butterflies did not flutter in his stomach. Romantic melodies didn’t ring in his ears.

Kris just felt your skin beneath his finger as he tasted your lips on his own. He moved back slightly, not so far that he is left bereft but enough for you to have your own space to breathe.

The corner of your lips curled prettily into a smile. “YiFan.”

Kris smiled too, goofily, before meeting your lips again.


It has been a steady three months into the relationship. Kris felt safe and confident - but you didn’t. He didn’t hear it straight out of your mouth but he just knew from the way your expression drop when you saw him at dance practice with a female dancer. How you dismissed the date and walked away shouldn’t have knocked his confidence down a few notch the way it did. Telling you that the dancer is his ex-girlfriend felt like it was wrong. For the first time, being truthful hurts.

“_____,” Kris ran after you, managing to catch up before you got to the elevator, “Please wait for me. I’ll be done in 10.”

“I need to go somewhere.”

“Yes. A date. With me,” Kris replied readily. “I told you the truth so that you would understand, not for you to hold it against me.”

Your gaze, wet with unshed tears lifted to his face. “She seems…”

“Good? Pretty? Talented?” He asked.

You nodded, swallowing a lump down your throat.

“You’re all that, too. And all mine.” Kris lifted your chin with his hand when you lowered your head again, “Being with you feels right to me. Tell me it’s the same for you.”

“It is…”

“Good. It’ll stay that way,” Kris said confidently, more so than he actually felt. Before you could say anything more to waver his sure words, Kris kissed you possessively, physically reaffirming the undeniable attraction between you and him. “Don’t go,” he said quietly, his vulnerability showing in the soft words.

You didn’t say anything, just wordlessly nodded your head - and it was enough for him.


Kris pulled you flushed against him. Your bare back meeting his front as he peppered kisses on your shoulder. You hummed in tired delight as he continued.

He loves how soft your skin felt, how your face didn’t hide your bliss, how his names reverently repeated on your lips. Most of all, he loved that you were completely his, and he, irrevocably belongs to you.

“I love you,” you murmured with a long exhale, as if you had to get it out before falling straight into sleep.

Kris chuckled, rubbing your skin in circular motions and whispering to your skin, “I love you too, _____.”


Kris stepped out of his reveries, checking both way on the vacant sidewalk and then his watch. The knots in his stomach felt like rocks now. No matter how much preparation he went through, he still felt everything was inadequate. You being late didn’t help his nerves. He pulled out the small velvet box from his pocket and flicked it open, sighing at the sight of gleaming diamond.

“_____,” Kris recited the words in his head, “I feel slightly drunk as I say this, but I did not consume alcohol – yet.” Kris grimaced slightly at Chanyeol’s input into his speech but continued anyway, “The time we spent together, the ups and the downs, the laughter and the tears – if anything, they were the signs, my signs. I don’t believe in astrology because the idea love aligned by the stars seems dramatic and fake. But if I look back now, it’s as if everything in the Universe is pointing out at you for me. I get lost sometimes and I will mess things up every now and then, even so I want you to be there for me, be my anchor, my source of comfort and happiness. I want to be the same for you.” Kris exhaled, pressing his lips together then spoke again, “I only occupy a fraction of your living memories and that’s not enough for my selfish existence anymore; so ____, would you do me the honour and let your future to be full of me? Would you marry me?”

As the final word exit his lips, a small, teary whisper sounded.


Kris’s eyes widened as he turned his head, surprised to see you standing there. His mouth fell open. He knew he should repeat it, just in case you missed the beginning, or the end – he really didn’t want you to miss the end. He gulped, opened his mouth again but nothing came out. The words he printed in his mind vanished into a blank slate as he stared at you.

“It’s the part where you kneel, YiFan…” You giggled, wiping at the tears in your eyes.

Kris fumbled with the velvet box holding the ring and did what you advised, smiling unbelievably wide that you can’t help but do the same.

“Marry me.”

He wasn’t asking now. He was shamelessly demanding.

He knew you were never going to go.

So baby don’t go
Yeah, take me to a place which will have you, where we’ll be together for eternity
Oh we will go to the end of the world together, don’t go
You are in my eyes, never having flown away
Come with me, and you won’t disappear or go missing
Oh it’s like the you I have once dreamed, you are that beautiful butterfly in my life


You know I really liked the scene of the demon trying to posses Yuu by using Mika and their family. Since this are feelings portrayed from his hearts, what he desire and maybe fractions of his memories, because of this we can understand more how important and close Mika and Yuu were to each other a little bit more.
After all the demon knew how he could break Yuu so of course he had resemble his dearest the best way

anonymous asked:

18 any boy


“I wish you could cook breakfast for me every morning.” Luke smiled as he fed you a bite of pancake, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.  “So much better than random restaurants and fast food places.” He added, grabbing the mug you had bought him a few weeks ago and taking a sip.  You stretched your arms, laying back down against the crinkled sheets.

“I could go join you for a bit sometime and make you breakfast then.” He took another bite of food, holding your hand when you reached out to him.  “That would be fun.” His head nodded softly, eyes trailing over his shirt that was covering your body.

“Yeah, maybe.” Luke took a strawberry, ready to feed it to you, but you only stared softly up into his unfocused blue irises.  Averting your gaze to stare absently past him, your hand lost the grip you initially took on his.  “What’s up?”  

“Nothing.” You sat up, stroking back your hair, and sitting criss cross.  Luke wanted to sigh, but didn’t want the conversation to start.  It would come eventually, just not because of him.  

“I have a little interview to do later, then we can meet here or at yours.”  You inhaled at the choice of excursions,

“How about I go with you and we can get dinner after?”  The far too familiar arrangement of Luke’s drawers, clothes somewhat peeking out, and a bath towel just in view through the ajar door was nothing new.  You liked that everything about his home was well-known to your mind.  The memories with Luke here were vivid and cozy, but they were half of what you shared with him.  The other fraction of memories were made in your home, and the small minuscule amount was at the dingy coffee shop you’d met him in a few months ago.  

You can’t come with me.” And that was the sole reason.  There was never any indication of Luke even wanting to go out into the world and share experiences with you.  Being in his presence was only okay in the small bubble he created.  At first, you thought it was endearing, but now that the relationship deep and you cared for him much more than before, all you could see was closed doors and no light through the window blinds.

“Just keeping me a secret still?” His eyes came up from the near finished plate of food, and you didn’t look back, only looking down to your sleeve-covered hands without seeing the enjoyment of being his when no one else knew.  

“Baby, it’s better this way.”  In Luke’s mind, it genuinely was.  The privacy was his way of shielding you.  Flashes couldn’t penetrate walls, fans couldn’t grab at you when you sat on the couch with him, no one asked for pictures over the dinner shared at a little dining table.  “Trust me.”

“I do, but I don’t like you hiding me.” You clenched at the sheets frowning, “Is it because you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”  Tension built between his brows, weighting them to narrow down on his eyes,

“Of course not.  Never.” 

“It feels that way.  You work so hard so no one ever even knows I’ve spoken to you.  People don’t even know me as a friend to you.  I don’t exist in your life to other people, Luke.  I hate that.  I want to be able to see you without you trying to divert attention away from our front doors.”  You rubbed your temples, shaking your head.  

“I do that all, because people are going to start sending you the rudest shit, and take so many more pictures.  You’re just so much safer right now.  No one bothers you, or tries to bring you down, or uses you to ask about the band or anything and I don’t want you to have to deal with that all.  I care about you so much, it’s really fucking scary to think that all that will be happening and I’m on the other side of the planet not able to do anything to help you.  You’re not a secret to me– you’re my treasure.  I’m just trying to protect you, baby.” He took a hold on your hands, cupping them tightly between his owns, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you because of this all, sweetie.”  

As he finished speaking, you looked into his eyes gently.  The thin mask that normally covers the worry had worn away, allowing you to finally understand what he was thinking.  The shift grew stronger sparking more fear when you drew your hands back, a breath hitched in his throat when you merely moved the tray of empty plates aside, moving closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.  Luke’s pulled you onto his lap, laying backwards onto the pillow and curling his fingers around the dark fabric hanging off your skin.  

“I know where you’re coming from,” The digits curled more as you started, but your kissed his cheek releasing the tension building in dots against your back, “But, Luke, I can handle it all.  I can.  Because this is me and you, and nothing is going to hurt me more than hearing you deny that you’re dating someone.  Baby, it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking.  I know you’re worried, but keeping us under this lock is only going to hurt us in the end.”

“I know.” He sighed, closing his eyes when he buried his forehead against your shoulder, “I know.  It won’t be as bad as I’m making it… You’re my world.  That’s why it.. It scares me.  I’ve never felt like this towards anyone before.  It feels like if we make it all open, that it’ll crumble down.  That you won’t like everything that comes with me, I guess.”  Your hands found their place on the sides of his face as you kissed him softly.

“I want all of your world, sweetie.  That’s what being together is.”  He pressed his lips against yours, again, not wanting to say anything for a minute.  The idea sat inside of him, stable right now, but the moment he would walk out with you, Luke knew his hand would be gripping a bit too much, and he may annoy you with the question of if you’re okay.  But he also knew this wasn’t fair to the relationship you too shared.  He knew it needed more than the little space he was allowing.  He kissed your nice, then your forehead; each corner of your face before pulling back, staring up in admiration at the way the single light fixture hanging from the ceiling his the fibers of your hair just perfectly.

“Okay,” He nodded slow, hands steadily rubbing along your sides, “Dinner and a movie it is then.”

darkmagyk  asked:

Burn, For Phil? Please?

“This isn’t your home. Not anymore.”

It’s a condemnation in his father’s voice, punctuated by a slamming door, and it follows him from one refuge to the next. The army, SHIELD, Strike Team Delta, the Avengers Initiative; he joins them, commits to them, digs out a hollow for himself and takes shelter for as long as he can. It’s always temporary, though, like sleeping on the couches of loved ones. Sooner or later, he knows, it isn’t home, anymore.

The Bus is the same, a tent pitched in the shadow of a mountain. It’s safe, secure and he loves his team. It can only go on for so long, though, however much he might want it to stick, just this one time.

He goes out for a drive, because he needs to and because he can, and comes back feeling clear-headed and human. As he comes into the lounge, Skye sees him and brightens.

“Yay! You’re home! Okay, you’ve got to settle this bet for us.”

It’s not a conventional “welcome home”, but it’s the only one he’s ever gotten. It catches on something left open in his heart, and, by just the faintest fractions, the memory of his father’s voice begins to fade.

love in your fingers | naruto

pairing; hinata ღ boruto (bonding)

notes; byakugan-princess requested hinata/boruto bonding time!

notess; if it wasn’t already obvious–i really like hinata making soup


Boruto is surprised by the emptiness of the day. He has no missions–his father is on one himself–the rest of his team is out drinking sake and laughing about his hair, his sister happens to be sharing a bowl of ramen with her pineapple-haired beau while he messes with her hair, and his mother–

–he doesn’t know what his mother is doing. 

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A comiXologist Recommends:
Eric Arroyo recommends Sweet Blue Flowers

“You’re such a crybaby, Fumi.”

Those five words leapt across the ten years we had been apart like they weren’t even there.

Reading Sweet Blue Flowers feels like reminiscing about your adolescence, weaving through fractions of memories of your most important friendships. This beautiful girls’ love manga from Takako Shimura is as genuine as it is touching, showcasing Shimura’s exemplary storytelling with a cast of complex, honest, and handsome girls.

Sweet Blue Flowers follows Fumi Manjome and Akira Okudaira, a pair of childhood friends who are reunited during their first year of high school. Although they don’t recognize each other at first, the girls grow to support each other as they face trials of young adulthood, exploring their sexualities and entering new relationships, and balancing romance with friendship.

Manga-ka Takako Shimura is also the author of Wandering Son, a superb series about transgender adolescents that has regularly been on the ALA’s Rainbow Project Reading List. In Sweet Blue Flowers, Shimura portrays  homosexuality with the same complexity as she does with gender in Wandering Son, featuring lesbian characters with varied perspectives on their own sexual identities, while still giving herself room to indulge in some all-girl school clichés. Shimura also creates a comfortable atmosphere in which characters openly accept and embrace queerness, while simultaneously acknowledging the realities of homophobia.

Sweet Blue Flowers focuses on the sensitive moments of friendship instead of the great dramatic arcs of romance, building a genuine and heartwarming portrayal of high school relationships that’s still layered and complicated. This isn’t a story that teases with will-they/won’t-theys or depends on melodramatic conflicts or situations. Instead, Shimura highlights the characters’ self-exploration; their romantic relationships are a natural part of their adjustment to young adulthood, and these relationships often involve leveraging past heartbreak with the possibility of new love.

Shimura’s sparse art is full of delicate linework and the perfect amount of detail to project the characters’ thoughts and emotions. Her use of the spatial relationships between characters can say more than the dialogue, and the scenes in which she draws characters kissing without focusing on the kiss itself are some of the most breath-taking moments in comics. They don’t just remind you of being in love; they bring you back to your first kiss, where you remember your short breaths and red-hot cheeks and not much else.

Having more of Takako Shimura’s work available in English is a treat, and Sweet Blue Flowers is an exceptional book for anyone looking for slice-of-life or romance comics.

[Read Sweet Blue Flowers]

Eric Alexander Arroyo is a Brooklyn-based cartoonist and a Digital Editor at comiXology. He’s probably drawing giant robots and listening to ABBA.

To this song I’d love to cherish the breath 
you whispered to mine. 
So soft like you’re afraid you might break the 
bones of the night. Worrying the sky would fall before I finish 
teaching my poems to your lips, before I trace back the mystery you left
in between your fingers, before I learn how your stroke of smile dims
 the worry within me, before I stand in the corner taking off the fractions 
of memories that had stabbed me before
. With a hope I could love you with the whole of my new self
—  sxtch

What if there’s a scare at Simon’s ascension. He passes out on the floor, twitching, and convulsing. And Jace reacts first he breaks the barrier without even a second thought, Clary, Izzy, Alec, and even Magnus aren’t even a second behind him. Magnus tells everyone to stand back, and a moment later he looks up, his eyes saying what he can’t. Simon’s heart has stopped. The stress of the change was too much. Clary falls into Jace but his arms barely react to meet her. Izzy collapses, holding Simon’s hand, and then he opens his eyes. What if when since died, for that fraction of a second, his memories come back. He lost his memories of one life, and when that life ended and he started a new one he got the memories from that life back. He opens his eyes for the first time in a long he sees them all as the people he knows.


For the prompt: Tattoo

It takes three months. 

For the fickle memories stored away in his brain to start to lose their vivid colour, for their details to blur, for the brief smile that Harry Hart has shared with him to waver. For nothing is permanent, for everything to start to fade.

It takes three months and a day.

Eggsy wakes on that day and looks at himself unclothed and naked as the day he was born in the mirror, and thinks, I need. 

His skin is not the least unmarred. He has not been spared from the trifle injuries and lasting marks they score in his flesh, he has not been spared the broken bones and the torture and the nights where nightmares are particularly heavy on his tongue, in his head, in his mind. 

And still, he doesn’t particularly know what.

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