❝i'm dangerous.❞
❝well, hi dangerous. i'm violet.❞
a story where violet manson is hired as a model for the short fused jeon jungkook.
photographer au
sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ: 30/06/19
ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ: 21/08/19
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
— 📷 —
IMG.08 - AMETHYST
JUNGKOOK SEETHED AT the sting that crawled through his still healing red marks. the ink of blood vanishing into a mere memory as the shadowed bruises dissolved beyond his skin.
attempting to neglect its stare as he knew it would only be followed by the memories of that morning flooding his already tortured mind. the shattered glass. the broken reflection. the blood. tainting his senses into blindness to the world encasing him.
and right then, the last thing he wanted was to be trapped in blinding thoughts. not when she was right there in front of him. figure bathing in the vivid amethyst pool of light.
the two found themselves wondering the raven walls of another art exhibition, finding a lack of paints and oils as the art was purely illustrated by light.
"jungkook, come on. we still have so much to see." her voice swam through the limited, lighting projections, earning his attention.
i lied to her.
when she asked me why my hands were so torn, i lied to her.
if she knew the real reason why, she would only run away from me again and i'm too close to lose her now. she would think i am guilty when i'm not.
he pushed me off the edge and i couldn't help it.
i couldn't stop it.
i couldn't stop myself.
"we still have plenty of time i don't see what the rush is." chuckled jungkook, growing dependent on the sensation that filled him up whenever their hands intertwined as if they were magnetic. "i want to see everything before we leave. is that so much to ask?" her hands trailed him around the salient edges of walls meeting their ends.
each wall a different landscape or portrait, filled with every colour that her full eyes could capture in the vacant atmosphere. figure dripping with molten light as she turned back to him. able to see every definition in his portrait that failed to be visible in ordinary sunlight.
the indenting scar that sat on the apple of his cheek finally holding her attention.
but violet remembered that what she was admiring was purely just skin and bone. a mask to what lay behind every action he did or word he spoke.
now it's just him and i, and yet it feels like there's someone else here. a stowaway. a parasite. someone or something that doesn't belong here.
