#loveless to help him get out of his self-pity and into action

[apfelhalm]

Memoria certainly is the episode of all time, but Mayday still gives me chills the second time around.

[cyberfairyblog]

Why Jillian Sucks

Hi, welcome to Odyssey Mystery Hour! I'm your host @gritsandbrits and today I'll be talking about a hot topic in the AIO fandom! Wanna know the tea? Keep on reading!

In the weeks I started getting back into the radio series, the newer episodes have started to irk me, mostly because of one of the more annoying additions: Jillian. Marshall. 😬😬😬

Even though I ship Jason with my self insert OC this not going to be about her. There's a lot of reasons why I do NOT like the idea of Jillian x Jason becoming a canon thing on the show. I hope to describe these feelings as best I can.

Who is Jillian you might ask?

Well to put it simply, Jillian is what happens when a Soccer Mom and a TikTok boyfriend mate and spawn an unholy baby and name them Rachel Berry. Out of the aspects of Nu!Odyssey I dislike, Jillian is the one thing I truly despise. Thankfully I've met fans who share the exact sentiment! 😁😒

Double-N Annoying, Double-O Nincompoop

Making her debut in 2018, Jillian is described as lively and upbeat, if a little high strung and immature; the perfect recipe for Kid Appeal! Before she moved to Odyssey she lived in different cities and worked nineteen jobs before becoming roommates with Connie and her sister Jules.

Now this is actually a fairly interesting set up: a new character struggling to find purpose only to discover it in a quaint small town. But as it turns out her going through that many jobs seems to be more than just struggling to find purpose.

When I first saw her design my thought immediately went to the smarmy classmates I went to school with.

We're introduced with this iconic line: "Hi!! I'm Jillian Marshall, double-L Jillian, double-L Marshall! It's so nice to meet you!"

With that one sentence I knew I was about to die.

The following episode has Jillian bumbling through every job interview much to Connie's duress after which she conveniently ending up working at Triple J Antiques...the same place Jason works!

A little backstory on Jason: he is the adult son of John Whittaker, one of the show's main character, and a bit of an Ensemble Darkhorse. He was introduced as a secret agent meant to bring action and intrigue into the show. He was set up as a charismatic and reckless sort of guy clashing with the calmer Jack Allen. After the Green Ring Conspiracy Saga, Jason officially retired from James Bonding and settled down to work at the Allen's antique shop.

Given his immense popularity there's understandable concern for how he is written and who he gets paired up with. So what does that have to do with Jillian.

Well, the idea of Jillian working at the same exact place as Odyssey's resident bachelor and calling him cute raises a few eyebrows.

"B-but Grits all she did was call him cute! You're reaching too far into this!"

Am I? Look I know this wouldn't be much of a big deal too but that is a subtle tactic the writers threw in to get the cogs turning for Jillison. Jason is clearly uninterested and even implied to dislike her. Jillian bemoans this but Connie reassures her that that's not the case. But hey at least she called him cute so OF COURSE she's going to end up being his love interest!

To me removing a character's core trait to justify a romance means you do NOT know how to actually write a compelling romance. It's trite, it's forced and painful to listen to.

It's also obvious she's a replacement for Bernard, given they have similar personalities and her brief stint on TV (which she also failed at lol). But whereas Bernard was actually endearing, Jillian seems more of a cliche womanchild with zero self awareness and tact. No actual depth, just a personality that is incredibly dumbed down and even insulting. Seriously they made her the dumb blond stereotype in an era where we should've moved on from that! 🤦

Did I mention she goes to church?

Yep she's gonna be one of those Christians.

Literally Loveless, Literally!

Oddly enough the narrative frames this as a rivals to lovers thing, where Jason is both the charismatic friendly guy and the super uninterested Straight Man. The constant twisting the turning makes him go OOC. See we know he's fit better as the former because that goes in line with his canon personality. But when they make him the latter he just comes off as unnecessarily mean. This is turns frames Jillian as someone we should pity: "Oh the attractive male doesn't like me because I went into his office without permission!!"

Wouldn't it make more sense for Jillian to be the one uninterested in a romance since her focus in to find a job/better purpose and romance might distract her? That would make a fun subplot...IF SHE WASN'T OBNOXIOUS!

A pattern I noticed and several fans pointed out: Jason's previous love interests were consistent in that they were strong minded women who challenged him in different ways. Their personalities bounced off creating a fun dynamic that was entertaining to see. Even though they didn't end up with him, you can still see and hear and feel their chemistry which is my goal for Jason x OC. Tasha doesn't make Jason OOC & they had a bittersweet arc, so their interactions were organic. Monica only made him OOC because she was a villain actively manipulating him. So again that worked in terms of story and led to Monica's redemption if my memory serves.

However, Jillian's dynamic is not that fun to listen to. You can feel her annoying Jason through the airwaves. She's strong but only in the sense of feeling something hard underneath your back laying on the bed and realizing that's just your earbud. She's vibrant yes but what else? She doesn't have any unique traits to contrast Jason, and any attempt at a contrast would mean making him act out of character. Adding her bumbling clumsiness and annoying voice, Jason would get tired of her very quickly. He's the type to go for people to have intelligent conversations with, not make him lose braincells. She could very well bring out the worse in him, it'll be an unhealthy relationship.

Here's a tidbit worth mentioning: the VA for Jillian actually auditioned with Jason's VA Townsend Coleman. Now that is big ass red flag right there! No hate towards the actress, just throwing that out there. There's also a facebook page dedicated to Jillison. Typical FB stupidity ramped up to eleven, or AIO fans who see something in Jillian; or at least THINk they see something worthwhile in her.

It doesn't help the writers keep insisting that these two go well together. The audience knows they do not work well as a pair but the narrative keeps insisting they are anyways. I recall an episode that had them pretend to be married while undercover and it was bad. Like REALLY humiliating to see Jason put in that position. He also told her to shut up much to my joy because she could NOT stop being irritating for five minutes. Alas the show still tries to justify Jillian being the Perfect Woman for Jason when she's anything but. And not even endearingly imperfect.

Follow Up

These tags I wrote on one of the AIO posts describes how I feel about Villain Marshall and the Jillison coupling as a whole. It just wouldn't work because Jason needs someone that can actually CHALLENGE him, have their own personality that can bounce off his (without being forced), and most importantly DOESN'T AGGRAVATE THE FANDOM!!

I have not met a single person anywhere that say they like Jillian. It's a different story apparently on the Club App - they like her for reasons I'm too cowardly to find out. But no, she sucks as a character. She makes a annoying friend, and is not a good addition to the show, much less a good love interest.

The only good thing she brought us are the nicknames we gave her 😌

That's all for now thank you for tuning into the Odyssey Mystery Hour. Next week I'll be talking a bit more about my OC Vanessa and her role in the world of Odyssey! Goodbye and make sure to lock your doors to prevent Jillian from coming in!!

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 6

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5,428

WARNINGS: Cursing, Self-Harm, Self-Deprecation 

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for a year, and the time has come for the show to start. But how will this affect her and Thomas’ relationship?

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER 5.3  CHAPTER 7

A/N: THE SCENE IS SEPARATED BY THE BLACK LINE BREAKS! LOOK FOR THE SECOND ONE IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THE SCENE! 

To be completely honest, I’m basing Aliena’s personality and actions off of myself, so since I have depression that means she does too. I have self-harmed in a stressful situation, so to me- it makes since that she would do it too as the tension are rising and she has to deal with the guilt of letting bad things happen to the people that are close to her. It’s especially harder since the one she cares for the most knows she’s allowing stuff to happen to him and his family. 

A week and a half has passed and today the boys are going to the fair. I got ready and rushed over to John’s flat. Polly had already told me that I wasn’t to make breakfast for the family because it was all of the boys going out this time. I knew Ada was with Freddie and I think all Polly knew was that she had been out. 

She told me that she was going to the church and I knew she would be meeting that bastard Campbell. Anyway, I let the kids have the day off. So, they were still asleep when I decided to ring Cassie. I still talk to her in an American accent, by the way.

“Why the hell are you calling me so early in the morning, Ali?”

“‘Cause I’m bored.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut. Now do you want the tea or not?” Yes, I taught Cassie 2010’s slang. I told her it would be like our own language. She loved the idea.

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“So, there’s a new barmaid in town. Tommy is completely smitten with her, or is gonna be. I can just tell.”

“No, shit! Fuck, what’re going to do?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do? Nothing! I can’t do anything. You know what he told me the other day!”

“That I’m a girl who isn’t family and you’re going to find a good man of your own.” We said simultaneously.  

“You’ve said that a million times, Ali.”

“Well, it fucking sucks that he doesn’t see me as a woman. A girl, he said, a girl! There’s nothing I can do, Cassie. I’m fucking stuck suffering.”

“And working. When are we gonna go out again?”

“Fuck if I know! I’m just really needed here, is all.”

“Stop pulling my leg. You’ve already used that excuse. “Oh but they need me!” “I need to take care of the kids!” “They’re really stressed, right now!” Shut up and admit that you don’t like not being around Thomas.” She laughed.

“Shut up! That’s not it. They really do need me. I just can’t tell you why.” 

She hummed. “Well, at least, you have your eyes set on someone. Mind that he doesn’t reciprocate it, but it must be nice to dote on someone.”

“Wow, thanks.” 

“What? In my opinion, it’s better than not having anybody to obsess about. It gets lonely over here, you know.”

We talked for hours. Eventually, the kids came down ‘n I had to feed them, but I just moved the telephone with me. Since I knew what was gonna happen today, I told them that they would be playing in the back and that’s it. 

“I’m sure. How is Angie and Tina?” I said.

“Still doing everything together. Seriously, this is why I need you to find a day off ‘cause I need some me and you time. I'm fucking stuck being a third wheel here.” 

“Sexual tension, still there?”

“Of-fucking-course!”

We both laughed. 

“But, ever since we talked about it. I noticed it more. Tina’s lingering glances at Angie and such. It’s just so sad.”

“Well, if she is a lesbian, hopefully, she’ll find someone.”

“Yeah, that would be the best outcome for her. The worst being, her family forcing her off in a loveless marriage. Hey, think she could like both?”

“Let’s hope.”

We both hummed sadly. 

Just then another voice cut in, “Excuse me, Miss, you’re getting another call?”

“Who from?” I asked.

“6 Watery Lane, Small Heath, Miss.”

“Put it through. Bye, Cassie!”

“Bye!”

“Hello?” 

“Aliena, come down here quick. Don’t bring the kids and tell ‘em to stay inside the house.” 

“Okay, Pol.” I hung up the phone and rushed upstairs. I knocked on Katie’s door and entered. 

She was busy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. I said. “Katie, something’s happened and your Aunt Polly has called me back to the house. That means no more napping, you’ll have to look after your siblings. And you’ll have to make lunch and maybe dinner. Your Aunt Polly said no going outside today, so keep that door locked after I go. Understand?”

“Yes, Aliena.”

I stroked her cheek before kissing her forehead and leaving her room. I rushed to put on me coat, hat, ‘n scarf as I went out the door. I shouted goodbye to the kids and locked the door behind me and stuffed the key in me pocket. 

As I walked down the street, I noticed that there was furniture in the streets and people in their night clothes. Men didn’t greet me as I walked past, but I went up to a familiar face. 

“Mr. Johnson, can you tell me what’s happened?”

“Oh, Ms. Welsh! Those bloody new coppers came in and threw everything out. Told us that the Peaky Blinders gave them the okay. Is that true?”

I put on a troubled face. I made me voice small and trembling. “I… I don’t know, Mr. Johnson. I’m terribly sorry.”

He picked up a chair of his with his head hanging. “It’s all right, love. A word of advice, Ms. Welsh, be careful around them. Wouldn’t want the light of the Shelby family to darken.”

Me eyes widened as a blushed rushde to me face. “The light, Mr. Johnson?”

He chuckled while handing his items to his wife. “That’s your nickname ‘round here, Ms. Welsh. The little shiny light among those Peaky Blinder devils. A smile from you will cause any man in this city to behave.” 

I chuckled, looking down with a small smile on me face. “Well, thank you for telling me, Mr. Johnson. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“We’ll be fine, dear. Go on about your business. I’m sure they have you running somewhere.” 

I gave him and his family one last smile before I continued me walk home. I got some pitiful stares and some glares, but I ignored ‘em. When I reached the house, I unlocked the door and walked in.   

As I was taking off me coat, I shouted. “Polly, I’m here!”

“We’re in here, love!” She shouted back.

I walked into the parlor where Lovelock and Scudboat were. 

“Go on.” Polly said. “Finish your report.”

“They’ve done in The Guns, The Chain, The Marquis. They didn’t touch the Garrison.” 

Polly scoffed a hand rubbing her bottom lip.

“They did John’s street, too. But they didn’t touch the place.” I added. Her eyes widened like saucers. 

“Jesus Christ. Well, the boys will be coming here soon. Scudboat, Lovelock, go and fetch a bucket of mild. Ali, come help me get the glasses.” 

It took them an hour to get here. Polly told them to have a seat, but only Arthur sat down. I looked over at Tommy who was already looking at me. I turned the left corner of me mouth up as a sort of smile. 

I pulled me sleeves up and started filling their cups. I passed it to Tommy, first, then Arthur. Scudboat and Lovelock already had their own. John stopped me saying that he’d get his own. I used a cloth to wipe the stuff off of me.

“The coppers told everyone Arthur had agreed to it when he was arrested. They said the Peaky Blinders had cleared out to the fair to let them do it.” Polly told them.

“I never said nothing to that copper about smashing up bloody houses!” Arthur said.

“All right!” Tommy said. “Which pubs did they do?”

“The Guns, The Chain, The Marquis. All the ones that pay you to protect them. The only one they didn't touch was The Garrison.” Polly answered. She lit her ciggie before talking again. “Made sure people think we were in on it. Smart, this copper. So go on. Drink your beers. Get out.”

All of them put down their beers and started making their way out, except Tommy.

“You better show people you'll still the cocks of the walk.” Polly called out after them.

Tommy walked ‘round to where I was as he ordered. “Hand out some cash to the landlords of the pubs. Pay some veterans to fix the places up.” 

Arthur barely putting on his coat asked. “So what about you, Tommy?”

“I've to go to Charlie's to stable the horse. She looked foot sore in the box.”

 Arthur was visibly upset by Tommy’s answer. 

“Let them see your faces.” Polly said before closing the doors to the betting shop. She turned ‘round and looked at me. “You can go now, Ali.” 

I nodded, looking over at Tommy who just nodded at me. I turned and went for the door. I was gonna go back to John’s ‘n cook them kids dinner. 

I was barely out the door when I heard the pounding of footsteps.

“Aliena!” Tommy shouted. “I have a plan. Tell me if it pays off or not.” 

“Alright.”

He nodded. “Gonna burn the King’s pictures. Will it-?”

“Yeah.” I interrupted him. I turned back ‘round. 

“See you, tonight, then?” He shouted. 

I waved him off. “Of course!” 

I walked to John’s flat with a little more pep in me step. 

I made their dinner, had some, tucked them into bed, and then made me way down to the fire. Loads of people were piling in. I walked over towards the boys. 

“What’s ‘appening, then, lads?” I shouted as I bumped into John forcefully.

They cheered for me, oddly enough. 

“Look, Finn and I have to go ‘n get more then I���ll be back, eh, Ali!” John said to me as he ran backwards. 

“Fine, hurry up then, la!” I chuckled as I turned me attention to Tommy ‘n Arthur. They were watching the fire. Arthur with a drink in his hand, not yet opened. Tommy nursing a ciggie.

“The only reason I’m not smacking that outta your hand is ‘cause this is a special occasion.” I teased with a smile on me face.

He scoffed. “Then, everyday must be a special occasion.” 

I tsked ‘n attempted to smack away his ciggie. He raised his hand up in the air with a smirk on his face. I gasped loudly and put a hurt look on me face. I attempted to smack it out of his hands, but it was too high for me to reach. 

“Oh c’mon, Finn could do better than that!” Tommy chuckled. 

“Oh, do one! You fucking cheater, you!” I knocked me body into him. 

John and Finn soon came back. Somehow, Tommy managed to get a picture of the King ‘n chucked into the fire. “Chuck them on, boys.” He ordered.

People cheered including Finn, and Tommy chucked another photograph in. 

Arthur spit his cork into the fire before saying. “Well, I hope to God you know what you're doing.”

I looked to me right ‘n saw John pass his pint over to Finn. 

“Oi!” I yelled. “Don’t you take a swing of that, Finn Shelby!” 

 He brought the bottle down from his lips. John laughing at him. 

“Oh, let him. It’s a fire.” John said. 

I looked to Tommy ‘n he nodded. I rolled me eyes and lightly kicked his shoe. He looked at me, pointedly, and I stuck me tongue out at him. 

The reporter came. So Arthur, Finn, John, and I all moved over. I watched as they talked. The fire gave me a logical reason for me blushing. 

‘He just looked so stoic and handsome. Take me breath away, I swear.’

John ‘n I made conversation, mainly abar the schooling progress of his kids. I told him and Arthur, very loudly might I add, abar how Finn was doing. He begged me to stop, but I only did after a little more teasing. 

When the reporter left, we all shuffled back to where Tommy was. We were talking for a while. I didn’t even notice when I was taking swings out of the boys’ bevvies. When I was talking to Tommy, John came over ‘n slung his arm over me shoulders.

“Oi, Aliena. Let’s have a song.” 

I laughed nervously. “You outta your bloody mind!” I pushed his head away from me face. 

I’m guessing Arthur heard ‘cause his head whipped ‘round. “Oh, come on! Sing a song, Songbird!”

I shook me head. “Nu uh!” 

“Oh, come on, Ali. Give us a song.” Tommy added in with a smug smirk.

Me jaw dropped in shock. I muttered. “You little traitor.” I cleared me throat. “Fine, you’re lucky I’ve been drinking! What am I singing? Happy, sad, love songs?”

I got shouts of “love songs” and “happy.” It wasn’t just the boys. I threw me head back trying to find a proper song to kick things off. I knew that none of them would know any of the songs I’ma gonna sing, but I’m too out of it to care. 

So, I picked “Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting)” by Elton John. People were really confused at first until the boys started cheering for me. Then, they started joining in too and a fight really did break out. I spun Finn ‘round ‘n ‘round since I wouldn’t be able to lead John in a dance. I sang “The Love Club” By Lorde and John did pull me away from Finn.

Next, I sang “Supaloney” by BENEE. I even did the dance. Look these were modern songs, but as long as Tommy stuck around, Arthur was cheering, and John ‘n Finn were dancing with me. Nobody said a word and danced with us. I sang “Electric” by Alina Baraz then “Cooler than Me” by Mike Posner before switching over to oldies. 

I stopped dancing and just started singing. The first oldies song I picked was “Can't Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli, “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” by Doris Day. The crowd was slowing down, visibly tired so I sang “So This Is Love” by Ilene Woods.

When the song finished, I rubbed my throat. Tommy walked over to me and asked if I was alright. I nodded. “Okay, lads! One last song then I’m done!” I announced. I was racking me brain for the right song when a hand clasped me own. 

I looked up at Tommy. “What?” I asked. 

He had a smile on his face. “Sing a song we can dance too.” 

Me face contorted into something I couldn’t describe. I turned into a giggling mess. “What on Earth are you talking abar, Thomas Shelby?” Me voice had turned into a squeal by the end of me sentence. 

He took a hand in mine while the other rested on me hip. I put a hand over me mouth, absolutely speechless. 

“Let’s have a dance, Ali. I’m the only one you haven’t danced with.” 

I laughed with a big embarrassing smile on me face. I shook me head and sniffed as I regained me composure. I sang “At Last” by Etta James as I swayed with Tommy. I giggled a lot and covered me mouth. It felt like I was singing it to ‘em ‘n he got a kick out of it, making faces at me ‘n such. When I sang that we were in heaven, he rolled his eyes while shaking his head. 

We kept leaning into each other. But the final lyric came and so did the end of the dance. We stayed like that only for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes but then he broke it. 

“Right! Fire’s over, go on home!” He yelled. Tommy walked over to Arthur while I stared. Me mood was shattered just like that. 

I was surprised when someone tugged me to them. It was John, of course. I smacked his torso as he started walking us to the house. That night I slept in Tommy’s room. He stroked me hair ‘till I fell asleep.

The next morning, Polly and I were talking over drinks. I was sipping on juice while she had her tea.

Polly reached for the newspaper and started looking over it. 

“Looking for Tommy’s section?” I asked.

“Yes. I want to see how much trouble this boy has stirred up.”

Then Ada came in, making a beeline to the bread and jam.

“Good of you to join us.  Where have you been all day?” Polly asked Ada.

“In bed.” Ada replied. 

I looked away with widened eyes as I took a sip of me juice. 

As Ada was cutting herself a slice of bread, she continued talking. “Couldn't sleep. Then I couldn't wake up. Then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee.” She grabbed the jam and her plate ‘n sat down at the table. “Then I was with this bear on a boat. That was just a dream. Then I was hungry.”

Polly made a point to stare at her, but Ada only started to get her serving of jam as she asked her. “Why are you reading the paper?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” Polly retorted.

“Well, I've never seen you read the paper. I've only ever seen you light fires with them.” Ada said before taking a bite out of her breakfast. 

“The BSA’s on strike.” Polly said while putting down the newspaper ‘n picking up her cuppa tea. “Miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys. Ten a day.” I watched as Polly’s eyes widened. She connected the dots. 

‘I’ve been waiting for this moment! Now, I don’t have to tell blags anymore!’

I had to bite me tongue, so I wouldn’t smile. 

“Stand up.” Polly ordered Ada.

“Why?” Ada asked her.

“Just stand up.” Polly put down her cup as Ada put down her bread. They both stood up. “Side on.” 

Ada turned to her side and Polly grabbed her boob, lifting it up a little. 

I chuckled while Ada shouted. “Polly, what are you doing?” We looked at each other with grins on our faces. But Polly was not smiling.

“Ada,” She said concernedly. “How late are you?” 

Ada’s face changed from smiling to frowning. I mean she’d been caught. She looked away then at the ground. “One week.” She said. Ada took a look at Polly. “Five weeks.” The corner of her mouth lifted into a grimace before she admitted it all and Polly sat down. “Seven, if you count weekends. I think it's a lack of iron. I got some tablets.”

“But they didn’t work?” Polly asked. 

I pretended to be concerned about this whole thing. I rested me head on me hand as me elbow was on the table. A worried expression painted on me face. 

Ada sat back down. “No.” She answered while shaking her head, mockingly. 

Polly nodded her head. “Aliena, today you’re taking care of our Ada. I’ll make a telephone call, and see if we can get her an appointment with a woman I know to find out. Go on up to your room.” 

I instantly got up and took Ada’s scran in me hands. “Come on, love.” I said to her. 

She sighed before complying with Polly’s orders. 

As we were walking up the stairs, Ada asked me, “Ali, do you think I’m pregnant?” 

I looked at her with me own grimace. “It’s been seven weeks, Ada. You’d be abar two months into your pregnancy.” 

She whimpered with a scared look on her face. Then, she raced up the stairs. 

The whole day, she just ranted abar how she couldn’t have been pregnant or how she could. Abar how sure she was Tommy would kill Freddie, or they would try to kill each other. I tried soothing her the best I could. ‘Til she started crying ‘n I told her if she keeps on worrying like that she’d hurt the baby. That shut her up.

Polly came in abar 3 o’clock saying that she got Ada the appointment for 7. I was in charge of getting her bathed ‘n ready. Once we were all ready, we made the journey over to Polly’s friend. Ada had a death grip on me hand the whole time. 

Mrs. Simeon, was the woman’s name ‘n she checked if you were pregnant as a job. Sorry, I don’t know the name for it, but she’s like an OB-GYN— I think. Ada had to go into the room alone while me ‘n Polly waited outside the room. 

I sighed audibly while rubbing me forehead and me leg crossed on top of the other. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she, Pol?”

She sighed, too. “Fucking, yes.” 

Ada soon came out with a pout. I knew it was because Mrs. Simeon didn’t tell her the results. But she told them loud ‘n clear to Polly. She paid the woman and Ada stormed off. I ran after her and stole the ciggie she had lit from her hand. 

She protested but I held a finger to her. “No fucking smoking while you’re knocked up. You hear me, Ada? No fucking smoking from now on. It hurts the baby!” I looked down at the burning ciggie in me hand ‘n brought it to me lips. 

I took a puff out of it. Polly came out. “Keep bloody walking, the both of youse.” Polly took hold of Ada’s arm. I followed after them, still smoking. 

“If anybody sees us here, they'll know."

“I'm not getting rid of it, Aunt Pol.” 

“Just come home and we'll talk about it.”

“You get off of me, or I'll scream it, I swear.” Ada yanked her arm out of Polly’s grip. She stood still, effectively stopping us all. I leaned on one side, bringing the ciggies to me lips for another puff. 

Polly looked ‘round as if trying to look out for familiar faces. “All right, you want to do this on the street? Let's do it. Whose is it?”

“If I tell you, you'll tell them and they'll cut him to pieces.”

“Not if he marries you, they won't. Will he marry you?”

“I don't know. I don't know where he is.”

“Jesus Christ, Ada!” Polly exclaimed while I muttered, “Fuck!” 

I was just making little comments to keep up with appearances. I knew Freddie was on the run for now because of Campbell. I threw the ciggie on the ground and smashed it out. 

“Look, he's gone away but he said he'd come back.” Ada said while I scoffed.

“Yeah, but they all say they'll come back.”

“He's not like that, he's a good man, he promised.” Ada started breaking down, so Polly pulled her in for a hug. 

“He will come back, Aunt Pol, I know he will!” Ada said, muffled.

Polly looked at me while nodding her head and I took a surveying glance ‘round the street. I shook me head. 

After a few pats on the back, we hurriedly walked back home. 

I was out all day. I had to clean up John’s flat ‘n then collect from the families. When I was done hanging all of me stuff up, I walked into the parlor to see if anyone else was home. The doors to the betting shop were open ‘n sitting at the furthest table from the door was Tommy. 

He looked deep in thought. I walked over to him, me heels clicking against the floor. He looked up at me.

“Did you know?” He asked me.

“Know what?” 

“About Ada.” 

I was in front of him, now. I nodded. 

He scoffed before downing the drink he had already poured. “How long?”

I fiddled with me hands, humming. “Um. I caught them while I was looking for Ilsa. They were under a bridge that’s near one of Ilsa's friend’s home. I thought the girls might have been playing down there, and there they were.” 

“You didn’t tell me.”

“She begged me not to.”

“Your loyalties lie with her, then?” 

I scoffed while giving him a flabbergasted look. “Loyalties, Thomas? It’s women’s business, Tommy. Look at it this way, I’m telling you now.” 

He laughed, mirthlessly. He leaned back against his chair and poured himself another drink. 

‘Was probably shocked that I dared to use his own words against him.’

 “Are you mad at me?” Me voice came out small. Like a whisper. Me nerves were set a light. 

Tommy shook his head. “No, not mad.” He paused before leaning forward where he originally was. “I’m just surprised you can keep secrets from me. You are, afterall, so easy to read.” He gave me a pointed look, a mocking look. 

I bit me lip while looking up at the ceiling then away from him as I nodded. 

‘I wanted to ask him what he meant by that. But, I don’t think I’d like the answer.’

I cracked me thumb out of reflex. “Well, when you’ve calmed down, let’s talk.” I knocked on the table and then started walking back into the parlor.

“We can talk now.” 

I whipped ‘round. “No!” I yelled, tears streaming down me face and me hands immediately coming into the conversation. “You got a cob on ‘n I don’t want to talk to ya while you’re like that. We’ll both say things we don’t mean, or worse what you do mean to say and I don’t want to hear it right now!” Me arms went limp as they were previously held out in front of me. I nodded at him before turning back ‘round. I was wiping me tears when Polly walked past me. 

I ran to my room ‘n as much as I wanted to slam me door shut, I couldn’t. I leaned against the door as me shoulders shook with sobs. I slid down to the floor. I put me hand over me mouth, trying to stifle me sobs. 

I flinched when I heard the glass shatter. Polly had thrown Thomas’s glass at the wall.

Me thoughts were running at a million miles per hour. I wanted it to stop. I was still crying as I crawled to me bed and took out the suitcases. I opened the one with all the items and looked for something sharp. 

Then, I found it. A pocket knife. I left it out of the suitcase while I put the rest away. I sat against me bed and ran me fingers along the pocket knife. 

A thought ran across me mind, ‘I’ve never done it with a knife before.’

I choked on a sob and took a big gulp of air. 

‘I can’t take it anymore. What if I stayed down there and he made fun of me for having a crush on him? He’s gonna start pushing me away. I can’t take this anymore, not this much stress. I can’t bloody well tell him everything, but did he expect me too? But I can’t! I can’t do that all the time!’ I thought. 

I picked up me dress and bunched it up at me waist. I unclasped the knife that was in me left hand and held it at the outside of me left thigh.

It was scarless. I’ve never cut here before. I’ve done me stomach and arms, but never thighs. 

I got the sheets from me bed and stuffed them in me mouth in a hurry. Me breathing quickened even more as I pressed the knife against me skin. 

And then I just did it. The pain was euphoric. I watched the blood seep out of the cut I made. I did another and another. 

‘Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Manipulative. Annoying. Whore. Clingy. Slut.’ Were the thoughts that ran through me mind.

It was like I was snapped out of it when I heard a bang and then another right after it. I looked down at me thigh and it was all red. There were drops of blood on the floor. 

‘What do I do? How would I get all of this clean?’ 

I slammed me head back against me bed. I stopped crying and was just breathing hard. I dropped the knife and hid me face in me hands. I tugged me face down before I let it go. I sat there doin’ nothing. Then, I heard the door slam again and I rushed to my feet. 

I held me skirt up and ran to where we kept the medical supplies. I slammed it down on the counter near the sink as I sat on it. I looked around for alcohol ‘n I couldn’t find it. So, I hopped down ‘n shuffled to where Tommy was sitting at. 

I took the bottle in me hands ‘n then walked back to where I was. I sat down there again ‘n poured the alcohol onto me cuts. I winced a little, but the pain brought me more satisfaction than discomfort. I got a gauze pad in me hand ‘n placed it over them, then wrapped it ‘round. 

I heaved a big sigh when it was all said ‘n done. I sat there for a while before I decided to get back up. I got a dry cloth ‘n filled up a bowl with water then walked back up me room. 

After I scrubbed out the blood on me floor, I put it on me desk ‘n went to sleep. 

The next day, I didn’t see him. I knew he went to talk to Campbell ‘n then see Grace. I smelt the opium from his room. It made me cry and pick at me wounds, which I had been cleaning up secretly. 

Bloody Ilsa and Finn got good eyes. They asked me why I’ve been walking with a limp. I told them I’d banged me foot pretty hard. They, of course, believed it. 

It was morning. I was getting ready. I whimpered when I had to pick up me leg to put on me shoes, boots they were. When I had put down me leg, there was a knock on me door. 

I startled me for a second. I looked at me left thigh to see if any blood had seeped through, but there was none. 

“Come in.” I said. 

The door opened and in came Tommy. I scoffed at the sight of him.

“You said that we’d talk when I wasn’t angry anymore. So…” He was in one of his suits with his cap in his hands. 

“It took you a day to get over it?” 

“I was busy.” 

“Sure.” I said as I already felt like crying. I closed me eyes and pinched me nose. When I opened me eyes, I kept them to the ground. 

He cleared his throat. “First, I want to apologize for making you cry. I know you don’t like it when I raise my voice and I took advantage of that. I know that when it comes to women things are different, especially when it's about romance. I had no reason to lash out the way I did at you, so for that I’m sorry.”

I nodded. “I accept your apology, Tommy. Anything else?” I lifted me head and looked right at him.

He looked away, trying to rack his mind for whatever he did wrong. 

I made a smacking noise with me mouth before I said. “I’ll help you out. There was a smell coming from your room.” 

Tommy’s eyes closed tightly. “I used opium to go to sleep last night, sorry.” 

I shrugged. “Don’t do it again.”

Tommy nodded before slowly making his way out of me door. He turned back ‘round with his cap now on his head. “You know, you have the nose of a blood hound.” 

I nodded with a smug smile across me face. “And the eyes of an eagle. And the ears of an elephant, so be more careful ‘round me.” 

He had a little smile before walking away. I kept me own little grin. I snapped me fingers twice and clapped me hands. Another reflex of mine.  

Me eyes widened when I realized I had something to tell him. “Tommy!” I shouted. I ran after him and caught him by the arm on the stairway. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

I blinked before letting him go. “Today’s meeting will be fine ‘n as long as you keep your ego or pride in check. It’ll go the way you want it, okay?”

His eyes widened, eyes shifting from left to right with his mouth hanging slightly open. “Okay” He said. 

I smiled and told him goodbye. 

I watched as he left. He gave me a two-finger salute before the door closed. 

His meeting with Billy Kimber will be fine!

I went back to me room to finish doing me hair. 

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston​ @nemesis729​ @salvatoreitmeanssaviour​

[laughing-with-god]

Pen Pal Final (Part One of Two)

Trigger warnings; gore, death, yandere, unhealthy behavior, shitty writing

Words; 5.7k

“I don’t want your hand.  Part of me wants to set you on fire and hold you while the flame consumes both of us, to eat your heart so I know that only I possess it entirely.”

Living with a killer was never on your bucket list.  

Given most people never quite lived to tell the tale.  

And as you watched Jungkook trail alongside your bookshelf, glossy eyes analyzing every book title printed on the aged spines, you couldn’t help but conclude that you shouldn’t be any different.  

You were going to die at the hands of this man in your own home.  This wasn’t up for discussion. It was only a matter of time.

Optimism was a trait your sister held, meanwhile it was not ever your forte.  If this was a perfect story, the survival instincts mixed with the adrenaline of having a murderer in your home would kickstart a reaction.  A reaction to live. A reaction to fight back. A reaction to escape.

Yet self awareness was also a blessing and a curse at times like this.  

You were all too aware of your major disadvantage.  

You were a freak.  

Crippled by your own mental disorder.

Trapped by your own paranoia.  

How does one flee when you are perhaps even more terrified of what is outside rather than inside?  Inside your apartment, you only had to deal with one sociopath. Outside of your apartment, countless others roamed free.  Either way, you were fucked.

You caught yourself releasing a dry sob as you flopped your lifeless body onto the sofa, bleary eyes already looking up at the ceiling in mock prayer.  

Have you ever felt so doomed that you were beyond any plan of action?  That you just knew from within the deepest parts of you that all means of recovering were utterly futile?  So you just sit there, and let the fear and sadness rock you into a paralyzed state. Not even bothering to fight back...

In this moment, if Jungkook were to waltz over and slit your throat to paint your living room ruby red...you’d have no objections.  It was your fate.

“Plum, I see you have a cookbook here.  Should we try a recipe tonight?”

His voice shook you to your core.  Not because it was ultra deep, husky or growl-like.  But because it was pleasant to the ear, which was the most terrifying part.  How can such a wicked person have such a delightful tone? Did god like being a trickster by giving the most fucked up people such good looks and voices, the perfect weaponry to reel in future victims?  

A tear trialed down your cheek, your orbs refusing to leave the heavens (or ceiling that was blocking your life line to a high power) as more wollowsome self-pity rang in your mind.  

You heard an incoming of footsteps, the rythameric sound thundering in your ears.  They were heavy, and the brief memory of his weight being 150 pounds found itself popping up once more.  He was big…

And all that weight was suddenly thrust down next to you, another and smaller mass being placed onto your lap.  

“You never did tell me what your favorite meal was.”  He rumbled, the vibration next to you being almost surreal.  At a major risk of breaking into another pattern of sobs, you peeked down to see what was placed upon you.  It was the opened cookbook, the killers’ hand flipping through the pages and revealing pictures of gourmet meals along with instructions.  The book was halfway on your lap and halfway on his.

“I like Italian food.  How about chicken parmesan?  Or maybe some tacos?” He trailed off, the casualty being reminiscent of someone discussing the weather or last night’s game.  

If you were bold enough, you would have slapped him then and there.  The audacity to just act as if you two were going to seriously make a meal together.  It was like a hell-version of I Love Lucy, if Lucy was stuck in a loveless marriage and Ricky was an abuser ready to strike if she were to ever slip up.  

“Plum?”  He asked, sounding confused on your silence.  Totally unaware of the inner pandemonium occupying your attention.

Faintly, you heard him.  But still remained unresponsive, not ready for another dialogue of any sort.  

You wondered why he kept calling you that.  Would it even be worth asking? Did he purposefully enjoy the sweet, overly sugary nickname and the shivers it sent down your spine?  Did he know how childish and degrading it was to be called that? Maybe that’s why he used it…

More silence passed.

“Y/n.  You’re starting to worry me.”  This was said in a more firm dialect, a tad deeper and authoritative than his signature breathy sound.  

You decided to heed the warning.  

‘Don’t poke the bear~.’  A voice in your head sing-songed.  Whether it was the work of a higher-power or your stronger alter ego finally making an appearance, you didn’t know.   

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wasn’t shot to hell.  “Yes?”

“We need to figure out what we’re doing for dinner baby.”  

Baby.

Sugarplum.

What was next?  Kiddo? Honey-munchkins?  Sweetie pie?

Anything that put you on a babyish level was apparently the criteria for Jungkook to call you by something other than your name.  Perhaps he liked the idea of you being young and dumb….Unaware and innocent like a child?

But innocence was almost laughable now.  

“I’m not hungry.”  You mumbled.

A sigh was heard, one of disappointment.  “Honey, you need to eat.”

You bit your lip.  

Did you want to argue?  No. You didn’t know his triggers and habits.  For all you know, it could just take one wise comment before he’s strangling you and adding another victim to his figurative trophy case.  Six became a scary number for you. Mental flashes of news anchors covering a story and labelling you the “sixth victim of the easter bunny” sparked a phobia of the number.  

“Whatever you want to eat, I’m fine with.”  You relented despite the stomach hurl that hit you after the words left your mouth.  

Would you even be able to keep the food down?

“Okay then!  How does a fancy mac n’ cheese sound?”

The weak must give into the strong.

You just nodded your head, the weight of it being almost too much to bear.  

He snapped up and happily hummed, swaggering to your kitchen and declaring he needs to do an ingredients check.  

Your fogged up orbs watched from your place on the couch as Jungkook whistled and opened your cupboards, swiftly inspecting everything that resided within them.  

Black spots appeared in your vision.  

The last thing you recall is Jungkook prying open your fridge before darkness stole your comprehension completely.  

--

Your nostrils tingled.  

Your tummy rumbled.  

All that you were able to understand was the fact that you were very warm and something smelled very nice.  

A heated cocoon surrounded your previously clammy frame, soothing the overworked nervous system into a pile of goo.  You nuzzle your face closer into the fluffy cloud that your brain fails to identify what is most likely a pillow. Out of instinct,  you lick your lips as more of that tantalizing aruma is wafted over to you. Nose and stomach working together to force your eyelids open, hoping to spot the object of your sudden hunger.

You were still on the couch.  However you were now laid down with a blanket (which you recognized as having been from your room) tucking you in as a throw pillow was used to cushion your head.   

As comfy as you were, the knowing that you had not fallen asleep like that caused you to jolt up in fear.  

He had positioned you like that.  

How could you have forgotten the killer roommate you have landed yourself with?  

Were you really that idiotic to rest in the presence of him?  

Or did you even fall asleep?  

…..It felt more like you fainted while sitting down.  Which could explain why Jungkook could’ve figured you fell asleep and decided to grace you with a blanket and pillow.  There was no way you managed to lull off with all that dread and anxiety in your system.

“Sleeping beauty finally decided to wake up?”  

His voice called out from the kitchen, where you suspected the smell to be stemming from.  

You didn’t respond.  Not knowing how to but also being too groggy to think strategically on how to foot the eggshells you had to walk on.  

He emerged with two plates in hand, smiling in a way that showed off his rounded teeth and crinkled his puppy-like eyes.  Whilst waltzing over, he said “I was really looking forward to cooking with you. But, you needed your rest so I understand.  We always have tomorrow. You’re really adorable when you sleep you know? Even the drool…” His speech came to a halt when he plopped himself onto the floor below you, placing the duo of plates onto the coffee table.  

“It was nice cooking after so long.  I hope you like it. I put lots of thought into it.”  A fork was handed to you.

You positioned your body closer to inspect the meal.  

It appeared to be normal….smelled normal….

But could this be poisoned?  

It would be foolish to consume something a killer prepared just for you.  What is keeping him from plopping a lethal ingredient in there just waiting for you to slurp up?

Beside you, Jungkook was already wolfing his portion down.  It was slightly revolting until you remembered that he had been locked up for some time now, factory-made cafeteria meals being the food he was costumed to.  

So his meal was safe….but what about yours?  

How could you guarantee that your meal hadn’t been tampered with?

He wouldn’t digest something deadly, so all you had to do was get him to eat something from your plate.  Only after that, would you eat from it.

But how do you do that?  

A disgusting idea popped in your head.  An idea you had no choice but to act out.  

“Jungkook?”

He snapped his head back at you, eager that you initiated a line of communication for the very first time in person.  

“Can we feed each other?  Just once….” You trailed off.  God, the proposition sounded shady and awkward even to yourself.  Yet you pleaded that he took the bait. If he was indeed as smitten with you as you had suspected, he would gladly take any affection he could get.  

His jaw dropped, not enough for it to be comical but enough for it to be left slightly ajar.  

Then he nodded, really fast like a bobble head.  

You gathered some pasta on your fork from the plate belonging to you and hung it in the air, only for him to capture it with his mouth like a phraha a second later.  Next he did the same to you.

After this, you concluded that if your food was deadly, then at least you took Jungkook down with you.  You reluctantly ate the rest at a slow pace, surprised at the above average quality.

“Wanna watch a movie?”  Jungkook excitedly suggested next.  

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders.  You lived to serve at this moment.

You had offered to clean up, trying to stroke his ego by stating that he was kind enough to cook and you should at least do your part.  He blushed madly as you stood up on shaky legs and gathered the plates to take to the kitchen.

From your station at the sink, you heard the television start up which could only mean he was beginning the search for a film.  You set the water at a lukewarm temperature with low pressure, wanting to take your time with the task and prolong your next interaction with him.  As you slowly scrubbed circles over and over again on the same plate, your ears perked to any sound coming from the neighbouring living room.

The suspected ‘ba doom’ sound of the Netflix being turned on echoed in your tiny apartment.  Being a homebody, you were a tad annoyed that he could just barge right in and make himself right at home.  But you bit your tongue and let the iron liquid coat your tastebuds, a death wish only an utterance away.

You took about three minutes on each plate, forty seconds for the forks.  You contemplated taking longer but didn’t want to push it anymore than you already have.  With shaky hands, you dried off with a dish rag and slowly crept back into the living room (which was now illuminated by the pixelated screen of your humming television).  

Jungkook was now innocently plopped where your laid body was prior, relaxed with one arm thrown back and the other holding the remote.  His lengthy legs were spread out in a classic man spread, not obnoxiously so but enough to hint at his comfortability. He perked up at the sound of your incoming presence and like an eager pup motioned pathetically for you to take your place beside him.  You did so without complaint.

The millisecond you took your seat, the muscular arm from behind jolted forwards to curl around your shoulders.  The weight of the limb served as a warning and a blockade.

His cherub like face neared yours to the point of being able to feel the degree of warmth of his breath on your face.  You refused to break eye contact with the list of shows and movies that painted the screen.

“What kind of movie do you want to watch?”  The breathiness of his voice was even more intimate sounding with him so in your face like this.  

‘Don’t poke the bear.’

“Whatever you want.”  You responded, still not bringing yourself to make eye contact with his bottomless, glass-like orbs.  

He turned his head away from you and tilted it, releasing a ‘tsk’ and scrolling through more options on the home page.  

You watched with interest somewhat spiked as he sifted through the films.  Just exactly what would an inmate wish to watch on his first day free from prison?  Would he want to laugh and release the tension? Would he want to watch a romance to feed his undying hunger for affection? Or would he-

No way.  

You watched as Jungkook’s search paused once he hit a certain movie.  

It was a horror movie.  

You turned to face him, eyes without a doubt blown out in shock.  

He faced you, eyebrow quirked up.  “You in?”

You didn’t say anything.  You couldn’t say anything.  You turned back to face the screen.  Jungkook clicked the play button and thus you began to watch a film about a killer beside a real one.  

It wasn’t until a scene of a girl getting her head bashed in, that Jungkook made a noise.  

A laugh, actually.  

He leaned over to your ear, as if you two were in a crowded movie theatre instead of your private home, and said; “Real killing isn’t like that….take it from me.”  

--

You watched the ending credits begin to roll onto the tv.  

Your emotions being an odd cocktail of half despair, half relief and a pinch of exhaustion.  

Despair for it meant that you couldn’t just distract yourself with a movie now, you’d have to face your new guest.  Relief because everytime the killer would murder someone, it would trigger you to cringe and stiffen due to the person whom was sitting right beside you.  And exhaustion because...well, that one was rather self-explanatory. It was getting late and this had been the most human interaction you’ve had in a long time.  You forgot how draining social interaction could be.

Jungkook wasted no time with turning the tv off.  For a moment, with the tv dead and no more screams playing, it was just you two.  Sitting in silence and darkness.

“Are you tired?” He asked, the lack of light enhancing his voice.

You risked a glance at him.  The moonlight from the window illuminated the details of the sculpture that was his face.  He was such an odd hybrid between a fresh boyish charm and the harsh brutality of manhood. For every sharp angle on his face, there was a rounded and plump aspect to even out the scale.  It was like the very creator of him had bipolar tendencies at play, not being able to decide whether he should be a harmless neighbor boy or an arrogant stud. He was the product of a transitional period every woman goes through...from wanting a boy to a man.  A harsh sting battered against your vertebrae as you couldn’t help but think, ‘which side where his victims fooled by? The raw sex appeal of a greek god or the clumsy, harmless child?’

“You look tired.”  He inspected, without a doubt noting your lidded eyes.  Jungkook had the ability to not be offended by lack of communication.  He would happily carry on an exchange all by himself, filling in the blanks with ease.  “Well, why don’t I wash up and we can head to bed?”

There was only one bed.  

And Jungkook was very intent on sharing that bed with you.  

Your eyes widened with fear at the context that he delivered between unsaid lines.

You were a woman with a much stronger and certified killer in your home, demanding that you ought to sleep together.  Would it be smart to object?

No, not in the slightest.  

But did you want to give in so easily?  Maybe against all odds there was some sort of respect for you that he had, hidden deep behind the layers of insanity?  A boundary even he wouldn’t push? Wouldn’t it be worth a shot if it meant that you could at least rest peacefully...without a butcher breathing down your neck?  

‘Don’t poke the bear, don’t poke th-’ fuck it.  

“You can take my bed.”  Your meek voice offered.  At this, Jungkook’s attention snapped to you at neck-breaking speed.  Your blood ran cold at how rapid his previously doe eyes transformed into that furious gaze...a silent war-cry smothered within those inky irises….

“What?”  He asked, voice dropping.  

It was obvious he wasn’t pleased with your suggestion.  But it was too late, if you could swallow your words back you would.  

You wanted to cry.  

That heinous stare was the farthest thing from the last sight you’d want to see before you die.  

“I-I mean, I’m happy with the couch.”  This was blurted out from your lips, surprising even you as instinctual damage control took over.  “I’m sure you’d want your space and everyth-”

A gleeful giggle interrupted and you viewed with wonder as his face melted back into a lax expression of pleasure.  

“Plum, you’re so funny.”  he cackled delightfully. The arm around your shoulders made itself known once more by clasping harder at your docile frame.  “The first thing I want to do after getting out of that hell hole is cuddle you in our little home.”

You froze.  

He stood up, but the feeling of suffocation didn’t release it’s smothering hold on you.  

“When I get out of the shower, I expect you in bed….waiting for me.”  

And as if he knew this place like the back of his hand, he navigated quite easily to your restroom.  

Like a victim of medusa herself, you remained sat still and shocked.  Only movement being seen from you was the slight watering of your eyes in the form of a tear drop trailing down your cheek.  

Faintly, you heard the familiar start up sound of your shower.  

You snapped up and began pacing wildly as more and more tears joined the first.  

The room began to close in on you with the vengeance of the devil himself.  You weren’t sure if your heart was beating too fast...or not at all. It seemed to have a mind of its’ own at the moment.   Your teeth decided to feast wildly on your bottom lip, viscous enough to draw blood and barely suppress your incoming cries.  Panic was now bursting at the seams, a belated reaction that took this long to kick in.

“Fuck!  What do I do?  What do I do?” You stormed up and down the dimly lit room, feet patting almost as fast as your thoughts.  “Think! Y/n think!” You whisper-yelled to yourself. As if your deductive reasoning skills needed some harsh belittling to finally start the job.  

You at least had a couple minutes to yourself before you would have to face him once more.  Surely you could come up what a strategy until then, right? You just had to think. Think. Think.  Think!

You froze and faced the door.  

The door that was the only entrance and exit to this lion’s den.  

How you wished you could just blast through that damned gateway and flee like a bat out of hell. But you couldn’t…

Wait.

Your jaw dropped.

An epiphany struck…  

You couldn’t leave the home.  

But you could bring someone here.  

Why didn’t you think of this before?!  

911!  

You nearly jumped up in joy, like a child who got what they wanted for Christmas.  

You would just have to find your phone…

‘Okay okay calm down.  Think. What were you doing before Jungkook came?’  You tried desperately to retrace your steps to relocate what possibly could be your last hope.  You recollected life before his barging in, although that was only a few hours ago it already felt like a millennia had passed.  

As the foggy puzzle pieces began to form, your eyes darted to the couch.  

‘That’s right….you were reading before he came.’

With a new sense of urgency, you leapt to the sofa and feverishly dug through the cushions.  It took a minute, for a second you weren’t sure if you were going to find it, but alas your search ended with a proud yelp as your hand managed to grasp at the missing phone.  

Like an olympian whom just won his country a metal, you thrusted the phone in the air with a smile on your face and tears in your eyes, blown away at your own luck.  With a renewed vigour, you unlocked your phone and hastily typed in your password (this was somewhat hard to do with shaky hands).

Your familiar homescreen glowed like a safe haven as it opened, sight so beautiful you could cry.  You pressed the phone icon and waited for the keypad to appear. When it did, your fingers danced across the numbers.

‘9’

‘1’

“Just what do you think you are doing?”  a growl pierced the air.

As if the device burned you, you dropped it.  Heart sinking and face on fire, you turn and see Jungkook, leaning smugly against the arch leading from the living room to the hallway.  

His face was stony and unreadable, eyes fixed on you as well as the phone.  Pupils darting between you and the object every other second.

Your teeth chattered as you struggled to even get an excuse out.  

Gracefully, Jungkook closed the space between you two and proceeded to pluck the electronic away from your pathetic claws.  

He made eye contact.  Searing and soul-baring eye contact.  

Right before he thrust the phone onto the floor...stomping on it with all his weight, over and over again.  

It wasn’t until your only way of communicating with the outside world was left in feeble metal smitherings that Jungkook was satisfied enough to stop the barbaric pounding.  

He huffed and pouted his lips, “Sugar, I thought you were different.”  

You cowered and kept your head low, not wanting to see his wrath up close.  

“I expect you in bed darling.  For real this time. No more silly games.”  

Like an actor being told ‘cut’,  he suddenly retreated back to the hallway, whistling a low tune as if his murderous persona was a second skin he can shred off with ease.  

When you were left alone once again, you let your weak pile of bone crumble within themselves.  You collapsed to the floor as a string of silent and dry sobs escaped your burned esophagus.

The sound to company your symphony of cries?  

The water from the shower, that still had yet to pause despite no one being in it.  

He had tested you.  

And you failed.  

--

Each person had their own version of heaven on earth.  

Jungkook was certain he found his nirvana within you.  

Your home was even more welcoming than what he had fantasized it to be whilst reading your letters.  

Every trinket and photo you had was marveled at with great perplexity on his part.  

He memorized every brand you used.  From the types of garbage bags you got to the toothpaste you prefered (winter green over frosty mint).  He wanted to be sure to get the right kinds when it comes time for him to venture out for you.

Although that will take a while, the press having to die down with his prison escape before he can comfortably go out.  But when he can, he will. He wouldn’t want another Renjun incident on his hands, now would he?

For now, he was very much elated with the day-to-day he shared with you.  

It usually began with him waking up beside you, an experience that he would never wish to have with someone else now that he’s had it with you.  And could one blame him? What was the appeal of an average villager when compared to the refinement of an ethereal goddess? Even at the brink of dawn, Jungkook was a mere worshiper of your temple.  When the sun decided to play with the smooth textures of your bedroom and eventually dance upon your form...he was breathless. Your skin shimmered like gold under its’ light, you sometimes shifting and groaning at the intrusion.  Your strands a mess and your face slightly puffy and cherub -like. Weakened by the vital rem cycle, having no choice but to let Jungkook cradle you like the babe you were. If the angels decided to smile upon him that particular morning, you’d even nuzzle unknowingly into his chest.  

After you awoke, is when the social behavior came into play.  

Both you and Jungkook were not extroverted creatures.  So in a way, you both could share a roomful of silence and still have no complaints to speak of.  But gosh did Jungkook like seeing you flustered. Every morning he’d tease you about what you did the night prior; talking in your sleep, drooling, cuddling or even kicking and punching.  The truth of these accusations mattered not, if it made you blush then Jungkook took it as a win in his book. Sadly, you weren’t the type to enjoy wasting time in bed. You’d jump up every morning and dash to the bathroom, not sharing Jungkook’s love of pillow talk.  (At least this is what he thought this meant).

Next was breakfast.  Most days Jungkook would make it.  Other times he would plead (more like demand) you make it.  The days in which he did so, the morning meal was rather elaborate and hearty.  Waffles, pancakes, crepes, omelettes ect. He wanted you to be fed well, enjoying the melting of your features when you try his food and you couldn’t even deny the heightened quality.  Other days, Jungkook wanted to eat something you made. You were very reluctant on this chore, resorting to a bowl of cereal or buttering some toast. Jungkook still felt so gooey and domestic nonetheless, complimenting your cheerios to milk ratio and taking over-dramatically big bites.  You usually chose to do the dishes, Jungkook occasionally helping to fulfill a clingy desire.

After the meal was the morning to afternoon bit.  

Jungkook liked watching shows in this time period.  You would join him if you had no other needs to attend to.  If you could, you would do laundry, cleaning, book organizing or anything really to avoid Jungkook.  But sometimes it couldn’t be helped and you’d be forced by his side to watch a show or movie. You learned quick that he held a fondness for violence and romance.  An odd mix that meant you would spend the first half of the day watching Kill Bill and the later half watching The Notebook. For either genre, he would have disturbing comments to add.  

“He’s not even stabbing him right.”

“Ahh, Y/n we’re just like them, aren’t we?  Except we have the better love story.”

Lunch followed.  

Light and simple was the theme.  Jungkook noticed that one of your favorites was grilled cheese, so this was a recurring meal on the menu.  After that was afternoon lounging. You enjoyed reading while Jungkook rather draw. Often times, Jungkook would draw you reading.  

He found you fascinating to study whilst you submerged yourself into other worlds.  How your pupils would dilate ever so slightly when something shocking happened. How your lips would downturn when a character becomes distasteful.  How your eyes would water when a tragic moment would unfold. How your nose would scrunch up with every cringey line.

It was every artists’ dream to have such a muse.  

Jungkook would scramble to capture any expression you unknowingly released.    Erase, erase and erase, over and over again until he did your face justice. Because there was no other enigma as brilliant as you.  

Jungkook had himself convinced that the beauties of Aphrodite, Cleopatra and Marilyn Monroe were frauds with overzealous reputations about their magnetism and so called grace. Mere weeds compared to an exquisite rose such as you.  Sometimes he felt too unworthy to be in your presence. Like you belonged in a masterpiece oil painting, another world that should be out of reach for scummy mortals. Yet at the same time, Jungkook refused to be starved of such a token.  

He wanted to keep you safe in this little haven, away from the evil greed of the world that wished to taint you.  May mankind only know of your pulchritude through drawings made by Jungkook. And even then they would have to rip it from his cold, dead hands.  The last documentation of higher powers at work, occasionally sending one of their best seraphs down to blessed the cursed earth.

Supper was a joint effort.  

Jungkook made sure that you would help make dinners with him, making it a mission to go through that old cookbook with you.  

He liked making you do the majority of the work, if it were any other way then how exactly would he be able to back hug you while you cook?  The only exception to this rule was when chopping or slicing was involved. Jungkook refused to let risk beseech you.

After dinner, you’d each tip toe around how to spend your evening.  

Jungkook would push for talking and spending intimate time together.  

While you would act extra lethargic, ‘yawning’ and slowing your movements.  Half the time, Jungkook bought the act and let you rest. Other times, he would demand you talk to him over a cup of coffee or tea.  

This was the general template for yours and Jungkook’s twenty four hour schedule.  

It had been going for a week.  

Heaven for him.  

Purgatory for you.  

Luckily, this wouldn’t last another week.

One of you couldn’t survive while the other did as well.

You two were living on borrowed time.  

--

She was a woman of pride.

But pride was apparently the last thing one this woman’s mind as she staggered through the hallway, eyes carefully looking at each passing apartment number.

Eyeliner smudged, floral dress wrinkled and face pitiful; she was the personification of the infamous ‘walk of shame’.  

If said shame was the lack of motherly love and maternal instincts.  

Her nerves were high-strung (borderline neurotic) as seen through her paranoid eye shifts and watery hiccups.  

She halted her rush when she spotted the familiar three digit numbers on a particular door.  Skipping the etiquette of knocking, the lady whipped out a key and proceeded to open the door for herself.  

When she entered the home, she slammed the front door closed before wildly dashing into the main area of the living space.  Heading swinging from side to side, she observed every corner for any hint of life.

“Mom?”  

The lady turned around at this and let out a cry of relief at the sight of you.  She leapt towards you with arms outreached and pulled you into her chest like a mother hen.  “Why haven’t you been answering my calls, Y/n?! I know I said some awful things and I’m so sorry but I can’t lose you too baby.  Not after your sister. Please forgive me.” she sobbed.

Due to her nervous breakdown, the older was not able to recognize her daughter’s pale face and petrified gaze.  Either that or she assumed it was do to their recent spat and the unexpected visit/wellness check.

“M-mom, get out now.”  You looked seriously at her, trying to break through any realm of emotion and get her out.  Your safety not being a concern so much as you wanted to spare the only family you had left.  Jungkook was in the bathroom, but there was no telling how long that can last. Given he loves testing you.  

“What?!  What do you mean?!”  Your mother shrieked.  

“Listen, it’s not safe just g-”

“Is this my mother in law?”  

Jungkook stalked forward from behind your mother.  He carried a soft smile that did not reach his eyes, traces of a boyish charm long gone.  

Your mother’s jaw dropped and a horrified screech came next, “Mother in law?!”  

She looked at you for explanation.  But you couldn’t say anything. You looked away with shame.  Not shame due to the innuendo but shame due to what you know Jungkook might do to you later….

Your face must have told your mother a different story however.  

Her features lifted up to make a face of anger, her status of sobriety under question as a few alcoholic drinks or so could very likely be to blame for a short fuse.  

“What kind of girl are you Y/n?!  Have you no shame?! Your sister would have never-”  

It happened so quick.  

Like whiplash.  

You didn’t even know what happened until you felt warm spurts of liquid splash across your face.  

Out of instinct you closed your eyes.  And when you opened them, you saw a knife plunged into your mother’s neck.  Jungkook was holding her body up as if to proudly display his new victim, refusing to just let her slump over to the ground.

Her neck splurged and goozed, the sounds echoing in your eardrums.

Whoever said that you can watch the light leave someone’s eyes as they die was lying.  

No light left your mother’s eyes.  

The spike of anger, confusion and terror stayed in those orbs until the very end.  

(gif literally has nothing to do with anything lmao but it’s sasha fierce so sue me)

Omg this is so bad, might delete later bc honestly im not too hyped for this one.  Srry for any mistakes, I’m super tired rn and I had a project to do, so I had to stay up a lil late than usual.  ALSO my birthday is next Monday (@my mom  for giving birth to me on a very inconvenient week day like wtf) and im gonna be chilling with some friends this weekend, so I figured its best to try to update now.  THERES GONNA BE A PART TWO FOR THIS, trust me we still got like a handful of plot points to get through.