#but i thought it might be inappropriate so i decided with that clip instead

[gaygardner]

Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless (x)

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: Foreign Smiles

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

Thankfully, the meeting concluded sooner than she had expected. Mr Min could be given the credit, no wonder he was the chief consultant of the company. Back in his office, Mr Kim asked for his schedule for the rest of the day. The meeting, in her perspective, went well enough. Her employer, however, did not lose the tense air around him. As she listed out the second half of the morning and noon schedule, his eyes bore into her form, the scrutiny this time felt different, almost as if he was baring holes into her instead of the focused gaze she was used to.

"...So that is before the lunch break, and post-break is relatively relaxed, only two meetings for today and-"

"And we have a few files to look into. Guess, over time is inevitable."

This time he spoke, his voice lacked any trace of humour she was used to whenever they were required to stay back in the office. So she only nodded with a polite 'no problem' before making her way back to her desk, still feeling Mr Kim's eyes boring into her form.

It was past midnight by the time her employer decided that it was too late and offered to drop her home.

"But Sir, Jim- Mr Park is supposed to—"

"I have sent him home, it is getting late, come, I will drop you." his tone, as since the morning, was clipped, but final, leaving no place for an argument. There was a gentle edge to it, but it lacked warmth. She could only come up with a simple 'okay' as she followed him out of his office and eventually, the building.

The car ride began with thick silence between her and Mr Kim, the driver seemed to be far relaxed than (Y/N) herself. She tried to ransack her brain to trace if she had slipped up anywhere, said anything unsuitable for the environment, or even remotely inappropriate. There was nothing she could find, not even a single instance. But ever since the meeting with the investigators, Mr Kim had been like that- cold and curt.

"(Y/N), do you know any of the investors who were in the meeting personally?" his voice maintained the cold edge to it, but the question caught her off-guard.

How would she know any of them personally?

"No, Sir, I do not know any one of them," she replied immediately, still confused. Mr Kim's gaze had been fixed outside the vehicle's window, his posture, graceful as ever but never failed to hold an aura of power.

"Then obviously you do not know what might be going on in their mind, do you?" he turned his head and met her with a sharp stare and all she could do was shake her head, feeling small under his unrelenting gaze. For the first time since the meeting with the investors, he smiled at her. But the smile, despite being identical to his regular sweet and polite ones did not feel the same "So...If you do not know what is going on in their head, Miss (L/N), how would you know their motive? Do you know what they want (Y/N)?" she shook her head with a hint of hesitance "Words (Y/N)"

"No, Sir, I don't know them, I do not know their intentions." with each passing moment, keeping eye contact with him turned more difficult.

Mr Kim's head tilted ever so slightly, the depths of his eyes seemed to open further into dark swirls "So that means that they can take advantage of my oblivious, naive little secretary...So, what would be the best option (Y/N)?...To avoid them from trying to extract confidential information from you?"

(Y/N) blinked, his words finally dawning upon her. How could she had not thought of that? The investors were not loyal to the company, after all, they were not loyal to Mr Kim either, Mr Kim's father still held the control, the investors were more likely loyal to him, not the CEO. (Y/N) had come to realise the unsaid tension between the father-son duo, even when she had never met Mr Kim Daejung(she didn't want to either), she could easily pick up on her employer's shift of mood when his father was mentioned, or when a meeting was arranged, strangely enough, Mr Kim had never allowed her in the meetings or conferences that would include his father, and she was partially thankful to him for that.

Fingers touching her chin almost startled her "I think I asked a question." Mr Kim's voice had sharpened slightly, and she realised that she had been thinking for too long. But his touch was electrifying, it made her shudder and gulp down the lump forming in her throat, he tilted her chin, it was so silent in the car, yet a storm did brew inside her, heart beating erratically, eyes widening and butterfly wings fluttering in her belly.

"I'm sorry" her voice was a whisper, but that was all she could manage without stuttering like a fool under his powerful gaze "I should not talk to them much." her voice cracked in the end, feeling the overwhelming heat on her cheeks and ears.

Mr Kim smiled, the same smile that would melt her "That's why you are my favourite employee (Y/N), won't want my favourite employee being taken advantage of. Glad you now know what's best for you." his long fingers slid back gracefully while she sat there, wide-eyed and stiff, she realised at that moment how close they had come, she could feel the warmth of his body. Mr Kim leaned back while his eyes remained on her "Just stay by my side during such meeting, that is the safest option, trust me. Do not talk to strange men (Y/N), they are not even half as sweet as they pretend to be." and with that, he looked away as if nothing had transpired.

While she realised that her mouth was dry.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr @minshookie29 @sepulcry

[tsarisfanfiction]

Colour symbol ask:

Fluff: grey: maturity

Gordon & Alan

Secret Tunnel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Gordon

Well, my muses have come to life again, which is both great for my mental state and annoying timing with regards to the uni work I'm supposed to be doing, but I'll make it work :D

After making a Military Bros masterpost of everything I've written for those two for Military Bros Day, I started thinking about all the different brother duos and how much I've written for each of them. Now, I might be forgetting something, but the one combination I don't recall writing anything for at all is Gordon&Alan, so I poked at my muses and we came up with this!

It's only a loose tie-in to the prompt, I think, but some sensible Tinies content counts as being mature, right?

Colour Symbol Prompts

“So.” Alan glanced up at his brother, raising an eyebrow at the drawl. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Gordon continued, tone light in a way that would have been disarming if it wasn’t Gordon, and they weren’t in the remains of a collapsed building.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked, rolling his shoulder. It was stiff, vocally complaining at the movement, and Alan was well aware that without the pauldrons his overprotective brothers had thrown on his uniform before letting him join IR it would be a lot worse. While none of the debris had hit either of them directly, some smaller chunks of masonry had glanced off his left shoulder.

Gordon’s sharp amber eyes tracked the motion even as his brother spoke. “Well, the bad news is that our comms are down.” Alan had suspected as such, but the fact still dumped a heavy weight on his chest. No comms meant no John, no Scott or Virgil, no help from outside. He didn’t like being cut off from his brothers at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times.

Still, he at least had one brother this time, and despite his penchant for not taking things seriously at home, when out on a mission, Gordon was as reliable as they came. They might not have Thunderbird Five’s data at their disposal, or Scott’s leadership, or Virgil’s muscles, but they did have two working brains between them.

Panicking, as Alan had learnt the hard way on other rescues where things went wrong, did him no favours at all. He swallowed back the instinctual panic and met Gordon’s eyes in the artificial half light of the glowstick from Gordon’s baldric.

“So what’s the good news?” he asked.

“The good news,” Gordon said with a flourish and grin reserved for when things weren’t going their way and Alan’s immediate brother decided the world wasn’t allowed to do that, “is that I think I’ve found us a way out.”

“You think?” Alan couldn’t help but question, even though he was already scrabbling his way to his feet and looking around in the hopes of seeing whatever Gordon had found.

“Over here.” He followed the glowstick as Gordon headed over towards where the rubble looked the thickest, blocking them in. “There’s air flowing in.”

Neither of their uniforms offered much by way of exposed skin, but Alan leaned down where Gordon gestured and took off his helmet just long enough to feel a faint breeze on his cheek.

“Where’s that coming from?” he asked, tugging his helmet back on. Gordon pointed at the floor, or what had once been the floor.

“It’s coming from down there,” he said.

“The floor?” Alan knelt down where Gordon gestured. “Why would it be coming from the- oh.”

The house they’d been in, and were now trapped inside, had been an old one. Alan didn’t remember the exact age, but it was a couple of centuries old at least. Old houses, especially larger ones, had secret passageways.

“So how do we get it open?” he wondered out loud, already rummaging around the area. Gordon crouched down next to him with a shrug as his hands joined Alan’s in trying to find a way to open the passageway that had to be there if they were getting airflow.

“Figured finding ways to open secret passages was more your thing,” his brother admitted. “Don’t those games of yours have secret passageways in all the time?”

The question was an honest one, and Alan blinked. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but those are games. This is real. It won’t be the same.” Despite his words, his fingers were still pulling and pushing at the stones that made up the floor, because at least it was a lead.

They could, of course, wait for their bigger brothers to barge their way in, with Virgil encased in his exosuit and Scott so close behind he’d be standing on his heels while John guided them non-stop over the comms, but there was still a lot of work to be done and they were deep inside the building.

Said building took that moment to groan again, threatening another collapse if they didn’t get out pronto. Alan loved his brothers, but he wasn’t about to get crushed because he’d waited helplessly for rescue. The danger zone covered a large area, and while he and Gordon had found no casualties in their sector, Virgil and Scott would have to prioritise the civilians elsewhere no matter how much they might be panicking about losing contact with the pair of them.

If he and Gordon could find their own way out, so much the better.

“It’s close enough, right?” Gordon shrugged, still sounding inappropriately light-hearted for the situation. Alan didn’t take it personally – Gordon’s coping strategies had time and time proven themselves to be effective.

“I’ll let you know,” he grunted, finding ridges in the stone floor. “Bring that light closer. I think I’ve got something.”

The sickly green glow spread across more of his vision as Gordon held it close to his hands, illuminating the remains of the floor below them. There were multiple ridges carved into the stone, all uniform and completely mundane.

Except for the section that wasn’t.

Alan almost missed it, huffing in defeat as he sat on his haunches and rubbed at his shoulder again. At a glance, it looked no different to the rest of the floor, but it had caught his glove in a way the others hadn’t. It was also in the same place as the mysterious airflow.

Gloved fingers scrabbled at the discrepancy, hunting for a purchase that would hopefully reveal their way out. Gordon had moved to crouch right next to him, holding the glowstick aloft but otherwise keeping his hands to himself and leaving the investigation to Alan. His presence there was comforting, helping Alan to keep it together when part of him wanted to scream into his dead comms in the hope that John would pick it up anyway.

There was a click, barely audible over the noise of creaking masonry in their immediate vicinity. Alan felt it rather than heard it, his fingers suddenly pressing down as the resistance vanished. Age old mechanisms whirred back into life, until with a clunk part of the floor moved down and to the side, revealing a small, dark, passageway leading down into the belly of the house.

“Nice one,” Gordon acknowledged, leaning forwards and peering into the inky depths. A second glowstick was snapped and tossed in, illuminating what was definitely a rough-hewn rock corridor. “I’ll go first.”

He was halfway in by the time the words registered, and Alan peered at the opening with some reluctance. “And you’re sure this will get us out?” he checked, because he didn’t want to wait to be rescued like a civilian, but he also had no intentions of being buried alive.

“That air’s coming from somewhere,” Gordon reminded him, edging forwards a few more paces until he reached the glowstick laying where it had landed on the floor of the corridor. “And the roof of this thing seems pretty sturdy.” He rapped it a couple of times with his knuckles. “If the rest of the house collapses, this’ll be the last thing to go.”

A glance around showed that his brother was probably right. Alan swallowed before following him inside, sticking right on Gordon’s heels as the older blond led the way, glowstick held up high for light.

As far as passages went, it was small. Apt for a secret passage, but annoying when the ceiling lowered and the pair of them had to stoop almost double to get through some sections. It twisted and turned, in some areas narrow enough to force them to go through sideways, and at one point the way forwards seemed to vanish altogether before Alan realised a shaft of rock was concealing the next section.

It definitely lived up to its likely original purpose of a secret escape. Pursuing someone through there would be difficult; luckily, the only aim Alan and Gordon had was getting out of the collapsed building.

The first sign of the outside world was when their comms crackled in unison. It was impossible to make anything out through the static, but the garbled voice of John was definitely missing the calm tones their ginger brother usually deployed on rescues. Scott’s response was short and sharp, clipped in a way that screamed panic, and the low rumble of Virgil felt on edge, too.

Returning comms promised that they had to nearly be out, and Alan stumbled forwards, almost catching himself with his painful shoulder before he arrested his momentum with his healthy arm instead.

Neither he nor Gordon spoke, even though he was certain the same thoughts had to be running through his brother’s head as well. They were close, but they weren’t out yet, and had no reassurance that the exit for the secret tunnel hadn’t been collapsed or buried by more falling debris.

Still, it remained the best chance they had. Alan didn’t fancy trailing back through the passageway and sitting back in the rubble of the building, and he knew Gordon felt the same, so pushing onwards was their only choice. It continued to twist and turn, dog-legging and backtracking with no apparent rhyme nor reason. Alan tried to keep track of it in his head, logging it like any secret passage in Cavern Quest, but it put all the virtual ones to shame.

Then Gordon stopped, and Alan walked straight into him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed instinctively, before stepping back a pace. “Why have we stopped?”

“It doesn’t go any further,” Gordon said, holding the glowstick high. It was running out of juice, leaving the sickly green glow far fainter than it had been earlier. It was barely enough light to make out his brother’s face, let alone whatever the rocks surrounding them were doing. “This must be the end.”

“So get us out,” Alan shrugged, rubbing his shoulder and trying to hide the wince of pain that came with the action. Their comms were still broadcasting garbled static interspersed with panicked voices, but the signal was still too poor to even attempt to get hold of John. “There’ll be a mechanism somewhere. Try looking for something slightly off in the ridges on the stone?”

“Trying,” Gordon grunted. The faint green-lit silhouette of his shoulders strained as he pushed and pulled at the rocks. “Not finding anything, Alan.”

“Let me try.” He pushed forwards, trying to squeeze past Gordon to get a better look at the wall of rock blocking their way. Gordon fell back without complaint, although it took a lot of pushing and pulling, and a concerning scrape against his helmet before they managed it.

Alan was struck by a flash of gratitude that none of their older brothers were with them. Scott and John would both be too tall, and Virgil was too bulky. Getting through the passageway with one of them would have been a nightmare. At least he hadn’t yet stopped growing and Gordon was small – not that he planned on mentioning that to Gordon just yet. There was a time and a place for the teasing, and this was neither.

With Gordon now behind him, looming over his shoulder with the ever-fading glowstick held out helpfully in his periphery, Alan reached out and felt around for something similar to the switch he’d found to get them into the tunnel from the other end. Carefully uniform ridges carved across the rock and he followed them with his fingers until, finally, something gave.

Bright light spilled in as the end of the tunnel opened, blinding him with midday sun.

That, however, paled in comparison to the way both their comm audios suddenly sharpened.

“Any sign of them?” Scott’s voice demanded.

“Keep working on getting the mother out of that room,” John non-answered, still sounding far too on edge. “Virgil, there’s a small life sign the other side of the wall.”

“F.A.B.” The forced calm of Virgil’s voice told Alan he was no less agitated than the other two.

“Hey guys.” Gordon chipped in, echoing in Alan’s helmet from the comm channel in stereo with the sound of his voice in real time. “Where do you need us, Thunderbird Five?”

“Gordon!” All three voices overlapped in frantic cacophony. “Where are you?” Scott demanded. “Where’s Alan? Are you okay?”

“I’m here, too,” Alan promised.

“We’re fine,” Gordon added. “Who’s left to save?”

“Virgil and Scott are on the last life signs now,” John told them. “Your signals have reappeared a fair way out from the danger zone; get yourselves back to Thunderbird Two.”

Alan looked around and realised he was right – the two Thunderbirds gleamed in the sunlight, but it was immediately clear that the passageway they’d taken had led almost directly away from the crafts. Even in a straight line, the walk was going to take a good quarter of an hour.

Next to him, Gordon sighed and started walking. “F.A.B.,” he agreed. Alan stumbled a little as he lurched forwards to keep up. “We’ll see you there.”

Sure enough, by the time they arrived, both on-site brothers were waiting impatiently. It was clear that it was only the presence of their rescuees that had stopped them from striking out to meet them, but even that wasn’t enough to stop their big brothers charging towards them as soon as they were visible.

Scott reached them first, always the fastest runner, and Alan let out an oof as he was crushed into a frantic hug alongside Gordon. Worried blue eyes looked them both over, narrowing as they found something they didn’t like.

He was pushed aside as Virgil reached them, Thunderbird Two’s pilot refraining from giving them a bear hug only because he’d clearly spotted the scrape on Alan’s helmet as he’d approached.

“Are you hurt?” A medscanner was deployed almost before Virgil was finished talking. Scott didn’t wait for permission from anyone before carefully detaching Alan’s helmet and peering at his head. Alan didn’t bother to stop him.

“I’m fine!” he made sure to protest, though, although his hand betrayed him as it subconsciously moved across to rub at his shoulder again. None of his brothers missed the action, and before he knew it he was being whisked inside the green Thunderbird so Virgil could take a closer look.

Scott hovered worriedly by his side, glancing over periodically at Gordon. Alan followed suit, catching Gordon’s eye, and his brother rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. It was fond, though; Alan wasn’t at all surprised by Scott and Virgil’s behaviour, and he highly doubted Gordon was, either.

It was just a hazard of having older brothers.

[whatstheproblembaby]

Fic: Remember Me

Shelagh is a little confused when she wakes up at Nonnatus House, but everything will be all right when Patrick comes for her, won't it?

PG, ~2170 words, hurt/comfort out the ASS.

Read here on AO3!

She didn’t want to, but Shelagh eventually succumbed to the force of her waking mind. Rolling over, she stretched out an arm toward where Patrick should be, looking forward to a quick morning cuddle before they had to get up and tend to their children and patients.

Instead, her arm flopped over the edge of the bed, her fingers clipping the nightstand.

“Wha-” she grunted, vocal cords not quite awake yet. “Patrick?”

Shelagh blinked, and took in-

“Nonnatus?”

She sat up and fished her glasses off the nightstand, thinking that clearing her vision might also help clear her mind. She thought she had fallen asleep in her own bed last night, but she did have to stay over at Nonnatus sometimes if Patrick had a late, last minute call and couldn’t drive her home from the surgery. Perhaps she had just gotten mixed up.

Less explainable, though, was the resistance she met when she tried to slide her glasses over her ears.

“Who gave me a cap?” Shelagh asked as though someone was there to answer her. She patted her hands over her head, feeling the still-familiar white fabric in confusion, then looked down to take in the rest of her attire. “And a nightgown?”

She appreciated the kindness, since sleeping in either her day dress or her nurse’s uniform would have left her wrinkled and uncomfortable, but the fit of the pajamas was perplexing. The nightgown was visually identical to the ones the sisters wore, which made sense. They each had two, so any one of them could have lent her their spare. All of the sisters were slightly taller than she was, though - so how could she feel her feet poking past the hem to press against the sheets? The skirt wasn’t rucked up any higher than it should be.

Shelagh decided not to question it and turned on the lamp before standing up and padding over to the wardrobe. It would be too informal to take breakfast in her borrowed pajamas regardless of how they fit, not to mention the awkwardness she would feel at being garbed like a religious sister once more, even if no one else would think much of it.

“Most of them weren’t even here when I was Sister Bernadette,” she muttered. Shelagh didn’t make a regular habit of talking to herself aloud, but she suddenly wanted the comfort of an expected voice, even if it was just her own. “They wouldn’t know it was...inappropriate. Still, I’d rather be in my own dress and ready to get on with the day when Patrick arrives for me.”

She pulled open the wardrobe door and had to blink several times. In a daze, she shut the doors, counted to five silently, and reopened them.

The contents were the same.

“Habits?” Shelagh said, her accent thickening somewhat in shock. “Why ever-”

A light rap on her door interrupted her question. “Sister? Are you coming to Lauds?”

“I think you have the wrong room,” Shelagh said as she made her way over to let Sister Hilda in. “I’m always happy to attend Lauds with you, of course, but I’m no longer a religious sister. Oh, were you aware that I was once-”

“No longer?” Sister Hilda cut in, a bemused smile on her face. “Sister, are you feeling quite the thing?”

“I don’t understand why you keep calling me Sister. I renounced my vows ages ago.” Shelagh suddenly felt dizzy. Between the wardrobe full of someone else’s clothes and Sister Hilda’s insistence on using the wrong title...it was overwhelming so early in the morning.

Sister Hilda took Shelagh firmly by the upper arms and guided her so they were sitting side by side on the bed. “Sis- pardon.” She cleared her throat when Shelagh glared at her attempt to use the title yet again. “You are scaring me. Are you sure that headache you had at supper last night has gone away?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Shelagh said, agitated. “And I did not have a headache at supper last night, which I ate, by the way, with my own husband and children!”

“With your - that’s quite enough,” Sister Hilda said. She pushed herself forcefully off the bed before chivvying Shelagh just as emphatically back into lying down. “I’m calling Doctor. I don’t know if you’re feverish or somehow sustained a head injury after Compline, but you are not in your right mind, Sister Bernadette. You will stay here until the doctor can have a look at you. Sister Frances can lead Lauds.”

Shelagh wasn’t sure which part of that speech she wanted to rebut first, but she finally spluttered out “Wh-what about Sister Julienne?” just before Sister Hilda exited the room.

“Mother Julienne is visiting the Hope Clinic in South Africa, as you well know!” The door closed decisively behind Sister Hilda.

“Mother Julienne?” Shelagh echoed. “Oh, what in the world is going on?”

While she was of the mind to flout Sister Hilda’s orders on principle, Shelagh thought she may as well wait there. One way or another, she would get to see Patrick, and she couldn’t exactly wait in the entrance hall in her nightie.

“Wouldn’t that be a shock, though?” she said, a mischievous smile growing on her face as she imagined the look on Patrick’s. She chuckled softly as the door opened again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re laughing, Sister,” Patrick said as he bustled in with Sister Hilda hot on his heels. “One of us should be in a good mood this morning.”

“Oh, Patrick, not you, too!” Shelagh said, shaking her head at his incorrect title for her. “Did Sister Hilda not tell you it was me she’s worried about?”

“You see?” Sister Hilda said, gesturing at her. “Something’s wrong.”

“Clearly,” Patrick said. Shelagh frowned as he hooked his stethoscope over his neck and dug a thermometer out of his bag. “You were right to call me.”

“Really, Patrick, that’s enough,” Shelagh said, moving to swing herself out of bed. “The children will be late for school if we mess about with this sad attempt at a comedy show any longer.”

“Sister, it’s incredibly unprofessional for you to keep calling me by my first name,” Patrick said, catching Shelagh by the arm to keep her in place. As he popped the thermometer into her mouth, he sat next to her on the bed and continued, “And honestly, I was unaware you even knew my first name. Is it in Mother Julienne’s old files somewhere?”

Shelagh’s mouth gaped, the thermometer falling into her lap. “Wh - of course I know your first name. You’re my husband, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Sister Hilda stepped forward, aghast. “Sister! I realize you likely don’t know what you’re saying, but that is beyond the pale! Dr. Turner would never behave so inappropriately toward a woman of God.”

“It’s all right, Sister, I’m not offended,” Patrick said as he pressed a hand clinically to Shelagh’s forehead. She wanted to reach up and cling on, reassure herself, but the lack of affection in Patrick’s eyes stopped her cold. “She’s not feverish. You’re sure she didn’t hit her head yesterday?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Where are the children?” Shelagh interjected. She tried to keep the panic she was feeling out of her voice - Sister Hilda and Patrick didn’t need any more reasons to think she was mentally unwell. “May? Angela? Teddy? Did you leave them with Timothy?”

Patrick recoiled as though she had slapped him. It was Sister Hilda who responded, very softly.

“Dr. Turner’s son died of polio in 1958. You were still in the sanatorium, Sister - do you remember? I can ask Nurse Franklin for more details if it would help.”

“I...I….” The gravity of what Sister Hilda was saying struck her, and Shelagh couldn’t find words, couldn’t find air. She started crying, gentle tears quickly giving way to great, painful heaves that almost drowned out the sound of Patrick instructing Sister Hilda to call an ambulance and the Linchmere over her head. “No, please...Patrick! Don’t - I’m not-”

Her vision started fluttering, and everything went black.

__________________________

Patrick climbed the dark stairs slowly, exhausted after assisting with a long but ultimately rewarding delivery of a new mother of twins. He loosened his tie as he quietly entered his room, not wanting to wake-

“Shelagh!”

His wife was thrashing and sobbing on her side of the bed, her breath coming in frantic gasps between soft cries of “No - Patrick, no!”

“Shelagh, my love, I’m right here,” Patrick said, crossing the room in an instant to drop down beside her on the mattress and start rubbing her back. “I’m right here, wake up.”

“Patrick?” Shelagh’s fitful movements eased ever so slightly, her head tilting toward the sound of his voice.

“Open your eyes, darling, I’m here,” Patrick coaxed. He gently encouraged her to turn onto her other side, facing him, and as she rolled, her eyes opened.

The look of relief and fear that mingled on her face as she came back to consciousness caused him physical pain in his chest.

“Oh...oh, Patrick,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she sat up. “Tell me you know who I am.”

“What? Shelagh, you’re my wife, of course I know who you are,” he replied, confused.

She threw herself into his arms almost before he had finished his sentence. “Thank God. Thank God.”

Patrick reached out quickly to turn on the bedside lamp before settling against the headboard and pulling Shelagh firmly into his lap. He ran a hand up and down her back soothingly, waiting until her tears calmed enough that she should be able to speak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“It was - oh, it was the worst nightmare,” Shelagh said. She made to slide out of his lap, but he tightened his grip, only allowing her to shift so she was sitting sideways rather than facing him. He handed her the hankie from his trouser pocket so she could wipe her eyes as she continued, “I woke up and I was at Nonnatus House, which was just unusual, but then Sister Hilda started insisting that I was still a sister, and Sister Julienne was actually Mother Julienne and away in South Africa, and you...you….”

She broke off to blow her nose.

“You came to examine me after Sister Hilda called...and you didn’t believe me either. You were going to call the Linchmere. But even worse than that….our children. Timothy.”

“No one believed you about them, either,” Patrick guessed, pressing a kiss to the side of Shelagh’s head when her flinch informed him he was right. “But Tim?”

“In my dream, he didn’t survive polio. Oh, Patrick,” Shelagh sobbed out, tucking her head into the juncture of Patrick’s neck and shoulder.

“Shhh....shhhh, darling,” Patrick said. He removed her headscarf so he could stroke her hair, her back, as the collar of his shirt got progressively wetter. “It was terrible, but it was only a dream. Timothy and the little ones are here. I’m here, and I know you, and I love you.”

After a few long moments, he felt Shelagh’s cries ease, and the vise around his own heart loosened too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, emerging from his neck. “I don’t mean to carry on over a dream.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Patrick said fiercely. “Your emotions aren’t any less real because they came from a nightmare. What you can do for me, though, is get up and rinse your face. I’ll make everything comfortable for when you’re done.”

Shelagh looked a little reticent as she stood, but she did make her way to the lavatory to wash up. Patrick scrambled to get into his pajamas, turn down the bed, and get the pillows fluffed and rearranged before she returned.

“That does feel better,” she admitted as she reappeared. “Thank you, dearest.”

“All in a day’s work,” Patrick teased gently, lounging on his back. His smile grew as one bloomed hesitantly on her face. “Now come here.”

Shelagh snagged her headscarf from where he’d left it on her pillow and tied it on before crawling into bed and snuggling close. Patrick anchored one arm firmly around her back and brought the other up to stroke the arm she had draped over his chest.

“This is already better than how I fell asleep before,” Shelagh said, voice muzzy.

“As it should be.” Patrick tilted Shelagh’s head up just long enough to kiss her softly, smiling against her mouth at her sleepily inept attempts to kiss him back. “Rest, love. There will be no more nightmares tonight.”

Shelagh’s head fell lightly against his shoulder, and Patrick dipped his to rest it on her crown. He had relied on the sound of Shelagh’s heartbeat and the warmth of her body to sleep when his memories of Northfield and the war had overwhelmed him, and he could only hope the same would be true for her now.

In the morning, she informed him that it was.

[onceattwice]

TWICE Reaction: Wisdom Teeth

PAIRING: TWICE x Reader

REQUEST: can i request twice’s s/o getting their wisdom tooth out and being all cute and crazy not knowing what she is doing.

TAGS: Fluff

NOTES: This was really fun to write on! To whomever requested this one: thank you and sorry this took so long to get out!

WORD COUNT: 5,403

IM NAYEON

Nayeon sat in the waiting room, idly flipping through a couple of magazines. Every so often, she would check her watch, internally counting down the minutes before she could see you again. You should be finished at five o’clock. Of course, she’d come thirty minutes early just in case, since she was your ride home. 

She stifled a laugh as soon as she saw that Dr. Choi had rolled you out of the surgery room. You looked like you were blackout drunk. “Y/N is still a little hazy from the laughing gas but they should be good to go in a couple of minutes. We suggest you keep them here until the laughing gas leaves their system completely.” She nodded quickly, affirming that you would indeed be staying here. 

“I brought some energy drinks for her but I’d rather not have her spill it all over my car,” Nayeon joked lightly with the surgeon. He chuckled in agreement but quickly excused himself, claiming that he had another appointment to attend to. She politely waved him goodbye. As soon as she had heard the light click of the closed door, she turned around so she could take a proper look at you.

You had your eyes closed, and although it looked like you were sleeping, she wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. Logically, she knew that you were fine and that the doctors here at ‘Kim & Turne’ were Korea’s top-notch oral surgeons. However, that didn’t prevent the small pinch of panic from flowing through her system. She stomped down the impulse to call Dr. Choi back into the room, and instead opted for sitting down in the small metal fold-able chair beside you. 

As soon as she had sat down, you suddenly sprung up like a maniac. Nayeon screamed out in surprise, her arms flailing beside her. “Y/N! What is wrong with you?!”

“Woogly boogly my booty,” you answered with a stern and serious expression. Nayeon sat in complete shock and disbelief. Suddenly, she exploded in laughter. 

“What in the world are you talking about?” Instinctively, she reached for her camera. From the many years of living with Jeongyeon and Momo, she’s learned to just go with the flow and capture whatever you were saying so that she could use it as blackmail later down the road. Nayeon was a little sad that she wasn’t able to capture your first line, but at least now she’d be able to record the rest of it.

“You’re really pretty, are you dating anybody?” Your words were slurred together, almost as if you were a foreigner to the language. Swaying side to side, she noticed that you were starting to interest in your arms. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

“Are you dating my arms? My arms look pretty gnarly, I should’ve known it was a bad idea to make them my wingmen.” 

She cackled at your response. Although she very much did enjoy your arms—as being wrapped around them was one of her favourite nighttime activities—she would not go as far as to say that she was dating your arms.

“Nope, not your arms. I found something much better.” She zoomed in to your gaping mouth. Your eyes were a little unfocused, but she found hints of disappointment and disbelief within them. 

“How cold of you, you’re hurting their feelings! So cold, to break up with them right in front of me. So cold.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, mumbling nonsense in an attempt to comfort them. 

“I think you’d be glad to know that you’re actually dating me,” she chuckled in amusement. You were being so ridiculous at the moment, but she also found your actions to be quite endearing. 

“Oh great, I’m a homewrecker!” You broke free from your arms, extending them as far out in front of you as possible. Nayeon expertly dodged them. Again, years of training from avoiding Sana’s grabby hands. However, Nayeon didn’t have much experience when it came to you crying. Thus, she was absolutely bewildered when you looked up and you had tears streaming down your face. 

“My arms have always been there for me. I can’t believe I just betrayed them like that! What kind of human am I?” Wailing in despair, you slumped back down onto the medical bed. Nayeon just stood there, not knowing what to do. Honestly, she found the entire conversation to be quite entertaining, but now that you were crying, she had no idea what to make of the situation.

“There, there,” she awkwardly patted your back, in the hopes that you would stop crying. At this point, she still had her camera pointed towards you, expecting you to surprise her with another one of your mood swings. But instead, you just lied there with your eyes closed. 

Shaking her head in disbelief, but with a hint of fondness, she tilted the camera towards herself and said to the lenses, “You are never going on laughing gas again.” 

YOO JEONGYEON

Jeongyeon was fully aware of the effects of nitrous oxide, aka laughing gas. That’s why she’s currently seated in the waiting room with a professional Canon EOS RP camera. She tried to convince Jihyo to be her “light person”, but unfortunately she declined, claiming that she was not going to get wrapped up in her shenanigans again. 

Your relationship with Jeongyeon was quite a silly one. Neither of you were scared to make a fool of yourselves. Therefore, this lead to the creation of an album titled “HAHA”. It was filled to the brim with silly video clips of both of you. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very original name. However, in one of the earliest clips, Jeongyeon produced her signature ‘haha’ laugh. Except she then proceeded to choke on her rice cake. 

She was cleaning her lens when the doctor informed her that you would be stationed at one of the private waiting rooms. They claimed you were being a little too energetic and proposed that she stayed there with you until the gas left your system entirely. She readily agreed and happily made her way to the room. 

Jeongyeon had seen her fair share of laughing gas videos online, most of which consisted of hysterical laughing, inappropriate questions, and overall confusion. However, she was not expecting to see you flopping around on the medical bed in complete tears. She faintly debated filming you just because you looked like a fish on land, but ultimately decided that’d be a little mean.

Your eyes were bloodshot and you had small drops of snot leaking out of your nose. She immediately ran over to you, leaving her equipment by the door. “What’s wrong?”

“My legs are gone! They cut them off!” You were hiccuping and furiously wiping away at your traitorous tears. 

“No, they’re not.” Jeongyeon deadpanned. 

“Well then explain why I can’t walk!” You wailed as you sniffled angrily. Truthfully, Jeongyeon thought you looked like a small baby. In a way, it was kind of cute how upset you were. She sighed and tilted her head at you. 

“Yes, you can. You just haven’t tried yet.” This seemed to provoke you even further. 

“Yes, I have! Look.” You proceeded to throw yourself on the ground. She gasped in shock, scared that you might have hurt yourself. Before she could even process the situation, you began to flop around. Jeongyeon bent down and placed her hands on your arms in an attempt to try and calm you down.

“For the love of all that is holy, please stop moving.” She laughed as she tried to control your relentless squirming. Too busy enjoying the scene, she completely forgot about her camera. You were pouting, desperately trying to escape her hold. 

Soon after, the sound of the door opening resonated throughout the room. Jeongyeon looked up to see a young lady enter the room. She was wearing scrubs and introduced herself. After hearing a lot of commotion from outside, she just wanted to come and check-in with you guys. 

Before your girlfriend could reply, you looked up at the nurse, eyes crazed, and shouted, “Look! I’m as useless as Magikarp now. I’m a Magikarp! Mag-i-karp!” 

There was a small pause. Suddenly, Jeongyeon and the nurse both burst out laughing. Both of them were so caught off guard by your sudden exclamation. Tears began to spring up in Jeongyeon’s eyes as she doubled over in laughter. Gosh, you were just too darn adorable. Right this moment, she decided that she was going to keep you forever. 

The nurse propped her arms on a nearby counter in an attempt to stabilize herself before she collapsed in laughter. “Please tell me you got that on camera.” 

“Oh shoot!”      

HIRAI MOMO

Momo was already seated in the private patient waiting room. The doctors informed her that you would be wheeled into the room after the surgery and that she could either take you straight home or wait for the laughing gas to wear off. She decided that she would be taking you home straight away as you would likely be more comfortable there. 

You got wheeled into the room looking absolutely dazed. Momo thought it was quite funny that you were sat in a wheelchair. She quickly thanked the assistant, grabbed the chair handles, and prepared to push you out of that center. However, before she could move, a plethora of incoherent mumbling flowed out of your mouth. 

“Hm?” She bent down in an attempt to try and hear you better. Leaning over your shoulder, her eyes trained on your mouth as she tried to piece together what you were mumbling.

“I said I want kisses.” You turned your head up slightly, pouting as you tried to catch Momo’s lips in yours. 

Momo’s face immediately flushed as she swiftly backed away. She stood up, back straight as a board, and pointedly avoided the assistant’s stare. A boisterous laugh echoed through the room. 

“I’ll leave you guys alone.” The click of a closed-door helped to indicate to Momo that the assistant had left the room. 

“I-I’m not too sure that’s a good idea. You just finished your surgery after all.” 

A sharp whine escaped your throat and you begin to thrash around in your chair. Momo’s eyes widened in surprise as she tried to stabilize the chair. But to her dismay, her hands fumbled and the wheelchair completely tipped over with you in it. Various pitched squeaks escaped her throat as she desperately ran over to check your body for injuries. 

There you lied, completely motionless but still laughing like a maniac. Crouching down, she lightly scolded you for acting so carelessly. However, you just opened your arms up wide and tried to pull her into a hug. Momo was so caught off guard that before she knew it, she was lying on the ground with your arms wrapped around her torso. Her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment as you rocked her back and forth. 

“I caught my prize,” you whispered into her ear, causing Momo to become flustered for a different reason. 

“Oh yeah?” She patted your head, deciding to play along with you for now. However, she was only met with silence. Confused, she pulled away slightly so that she could look into your eyes. She doesn’t quite know what she was expecting but she definitely wasn’t expecting to see you looking back at her with the softest gaze ever. Speckles of love splashed across your irises, making Momo’s heart flutter uncharacteristically.

“Yeah.” You smiled dopily at her. 

“And what’s the prize?” She whispered seductively into your ear, relaxing a little in your arms. If you were going to be so cute and cuddly, then she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. ‘Thank god we’re still in the post-surgery private room,’ Momo briefly thought. 

“A big fried rice cake,” You replied, squeezing her even tighter in your grasp. 

“Big?” Momo squeaked indignantly. That was not what she thought you were going to say. 

“Indeedly so!” 

“You’re sooo sleeping on the couch tonight!” 

MINATOZAKI SANA

Sana drove over to the building at which you were currently undergoing surgery for your wisdom teeth. In theory, she would arrive right when you finished. She was your ride home since you wouldn’t be able to drive home yourself. 

When she arrived at the clinic, they immediately directed her into a small white room after she checked in with the receptionist. After closing the heavy wooden door behind her, she quickly scanned the room for you whilst also taking note of the slick interior design. 

There you were, situated on one of their hospital beds with a nurse gently holding your arm. She was mumbling something that Sana couldn’t quite make out, but it seemed to relax you. She huffed, a little annoyed because the nurse was a little too close for her liking. Clearing her throat with a sharp ‘ahem’, Sana stood by the front of the door, staring at the woman expectantly. The nurse quickly acknowledged Sana’s presence and politely stepped away from you.

After she explained that the gas would leave your system soon, she left the room in a hurry. Grateful for the privacy that the room allowed the two of you to have, she quickly stomped on over to you and started to inspect your face. There was slight bruising in your cheeks but nothing to be concerned about. 

However, what was concerning was the fact that you had tears streaming down your cheeks. You looked up at her with a small pout and glistening eyes. She furrowed her brows in confusion and instantly situated herself in the remaining space on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“My dog is dead,” you mumbled dejectedly, voice filled to the brim with pain and sorrow. Sana, however, could only chuckle in amusement. She had no clue what you were going on about. 

“Honey, you don’t have a dog.” She rubbed your back comfortingly, hoping to calm you down a little. Your only response was a cry of despair. 

“Well, I don’t anymore! It’s dead!” You buried your face into her neck, weeping miserably. You clung onto her white shirt, soaking her shoulder with your heartfelt tears. 

Sana thought you were being extremely adorable. She softened a little at how much you cared about your supposed ‘dead dog’. Honestly, it was a true reflection of how much of a loving and emotional person you were. She wrapped her arms around your torso and lightly rocked you back and forth. She never really knew how to comfort you with words when you were crying, but she was a master at physical contact. 

Your sniffles resonated throughout the room, but you were finally starting to calm down a little. Sana’s hand cupped your cheek, bringing it away from her neck. You let out a small whine in protest but she just rolled her eyes. Giving you a quick peck on your forehead, she wiped away the remainders of your tears. 

If Sana were, to be honest though, this whole situation was more than a little amusing to her. You didn’t even like dogs, you much preferred cats. She genuinely had no idea where you got your ‘dog’ from. She booped your nose lightly and giggled playfully when your eyes suddenly went hazy and unfocused. 

Maybe she could have a little fun with this. Deciding to indulge your laughing gas antics, she softly asked, “What was your dog’s name?” 

Once again, a couple of tears welled up in your eyes. When you jutted out your bottom lip, Sana, in turn, cooed at how adorably soft you looked. She reckoned she looked much of the same whenever she was around you though. Her love for you goes beyond plain-

“Her name was Sana.”

You got pushed off of the bed. 

PARK JIHYO

She double-checked her bag before getting a manager to drive her over to the clinic. Jihyo didn’t trust herself to drive the car as she knew she would likely be spending the entire ride taking care of you. Thus, she got a manager to come with so that they could drive on the way home. 

When she arrived, she immediately got led to the room that you were staying in. After your two-hour wisdom teeth surgery, they had placed you in a private post-surgery room with an assistant to watch over you until your girlfriend arrived. When she entered the room, the assistant left. On his way out, he reminded Jihyo to sign some papers at the front desk before leaving. Jihyo agreed readily to his request.

As soon as he was gone, she ran over to your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a hamburger on crack,” you replied groggily. Jihyo raised an eyebrow in confusion. Had the laughing gas not left your system yet?

“Do you think you can stand?” She placed a hand on your elbow, gently tugging it. This prompted you to slowly stand up.

“Do you think my legs ever get sad?” You whispered dejectedly as you directed a small pout towards Jihyo. She led you away from the bed, carefully thinking of a response in the meantime. 

“No, I don’t think they do sweetie.” 

“They carry me everywhere but I’ve never carried them!” You reasoned with Jihyo, panic flooding into your eyes at the thought. Bewildered, Jihyo looked back at you. She opened her mouth to tell you to stop being so ridiculous, but to her surprise, tears were falling from your eyes. Your bottom lip trembled as you anxiously played with your fingers. 

“I’m a terrible human.” 

“I don’t think it’s physically possible to...carry your legs.” Jihyo giggled, a little amused by your antics. 

“I’ll never know until I try.” Your girlfriend let out a high pitched yelp as she watched you drop yourself onto the floor. In a desperate attempt to try and carry your legs, you hugged them close to your chest and started to shake your bum on the floor. 

Jihyo laughed as a constipated look overtook your features. You were slowly scooching forward on the clinic’s dirty marble floor. 

“Dear god this is embarrassing,” she grinned as Jihyo pulled out her iPhone. A true testimony to her impeccable idol skills, she somehow managed to capture some flattering angles—as flattering as one could look wiggling on the floor—of you. She quickly sent the 30-second clip to the TWICE group chat, thoroughly enjoying your small lapse of judgement due to the gas. 

A couple of minutes later, although you were still a little woozy from the laughing gas, you did seem to be thinking a little clearer. The hazy look disappeared from your eyes as they did a small scan of the room. 

“Why am I on the floor?” You asked Jihyo confused. All you got was a cheeky wink as laughter carried throughout the room. 

MYOUI MINA

To be quite honest, Mina was a little terrified. She’s never taken care of someone post-surgery before and she was more than a little anxious that she wouldn’t do a good job. She had done plenty of research beforehand of all the foods you could and couldn’t have, as well as some special aftercare techniques to ensure you wouldn’t get an infection. By all means, she was completely prepared. However, she didn’t feel as though she was. 

Mina had definitely seen her fair share of laugh gas videos online so she kind of knew what to expect. But when you got wheeled into the room, looking as hammered as can be, Mina began to freak out. The nurse quickly reassured her that yes, that was normal and that no, you would not look like that forever. She let out a sigh of relief. Truth be told, she much preferred your original face.  

When the assistant left the room, Mina sat patiently, waiting for you to say something weird. She reasoned that she just had to let you do whatever you wanted to do and that there was no real way for her to stop you. She just prayed you wouldn’t reveal anything too...scandalous about your relationship. You also did not need to air out any dirty laundry either.

However, to her immense surprise, you just sat there staring at her with a look of wonder. “Y/N?” She whispered cautiously, careful not to set you off on a tangent although realistically she understood that that is not how laughing gas works.

“Can we cuddle? I miss you.” You responded in a tone that was just as gentle as the one Mina had used. She blinked twice, a little confused, but ultimately decided to grant your wishes. You rarely ever asked for physical affection, not to mention in such a careful and fragile voice. 

She climbed onto the clinic bed, careful to not rock it too much. You didn’t seem to mind too much though as you hastily, and quite clumsily, made room for her to sit. As soon as she got herself situated on the bed, you wrapped your arms around her torso in a huge bear hug and pulled her down into a lying position. 

A small puff of air escaped her lips due to her surprise but she quickly grew comfortable as the familiar scent of your laundry detergent filled her senses. From there on, you didn’t say much. You would periodically shift a little, burying your face into her neck, but aside from that, you didn’t say a thing.

A nice peaceful calm settled in the air. Mina let out a sigh of relief, secretly glad that she didn’t have to take care of a crazed version of you. 

“I love you.” Your words were muffled against her sweater, but the meaning was not lost on Mina. She cooed slightly at how adorable you were being. You guys rarely said those three words, only saving them for special occasions. That way, it made them sound even more meaningful than usual. 

She let out a small breathless chuckle, her cheeks red at the implication of your words. “I love you too.” 

KIM DAHYUN

Did she look like a tourist with that huge camera bag swung across her chest? Yes. Did she look ridiculous? Also yes. As soon as Dahyun had arrived at the clinic, she requested to have a private post-surgery room. Of course, they complied with her wishes. After all, she was Kim Dahyun of Twice. 

She had managed to drag one of the managers into the room with her. The manager was in charge of setting up the lights as she positioned the camera. Her experience of being an idol was coming into handy. Dahyun knew just how to get the perfect angle so that you would still look pretty, even if you were acting absolutely ridiculous. 

A knock on the door shook Dahyun out of her concentrated stupor. “Please come in!” 

When the employees helped you into the room, they were surprised to see such a professional set up. They were also surprised to see the manager sitting in the corner, panting from exhaustion. Dahyun shot them a disarming smile. Confused and slightly scared, they gently led you to the clinic bed before swiftly exiting the room. 

Dahyun clapped her hands together in excitement. Now comes the fun part! However, much to her dismay, all you did was lie on the bed with your eyes closed. You weren’t acting like those people that she saw on YouTube. Dahyun pouted, a little disappointed that you were taking a big nap. At least you looked kind of cute with that big bandage wrapped around your head. 

She smiled lovingly, albeit a bit defeated, and began to dismantle her camera and lights. Just as she turned off the camera, she heard you let out a small groan of pain. Her head snapped in your direction. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” 

You groaned again in response. Dahyun carefully set her camera on the ground before approaching you. When she arrived beside you, she noticed that you were holding your leg. Pain crossed your features as you mumbled a bunch of nonsensical phrases. 

“What’s wrong?” Panic flowed through her veins as she desperately searched your body for wounds. Had the surgeons messed up? Before she could come to a conclusion, you suddenly shot up, completely dismissing your previous leg pain. Dahyun yelped as she jumped back in surprise. You stared at her, a serious expression crossing your features. 

“I have the sexiest legs in this entire universe.”

Dahyun blinked twice.

“Huh?”

“My legs are sexier than Momos. My legs are so hot they could fry perfect sunny side eggs.” You then proceeded to place your index finger on your thigh as you made an unnaturally loud-sounding sizzle, all while looking very constipated. 

Dahyun let out a boisterous laugh, completely caught off guard by your actions. She could even hear the manager laughing along with her. 

“Yes, your legs are very hot,” She placated. However, instead of calming down like she thought you would, you began to pout even more. Crossing your arms around your chest, you turned yourself away from her. 

“I bet you think Momo’s legs are hotter.” 

My god, you were adorable. Dahyun stifled a laugh by cupping her hands around her mouth. “Sure sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Of those dumbbell looking legs? Never.” You snorted, a little offended that she would ever insinuate otherwise. Dahyun let out a very amused laugh. 

She was definitely going to tell Momo you said that. 

SON CHAEYOUNG

Was she going to take advantage of your laughing gas situation? Yes. Was she going to paint your face and then take photos for blackmail? Also yes. 

Chaeyoung happily collected her various brushes, as well as her colourful palette of paints, and gently placed them in an art bag. Soon, she would be departing from the dorms and on her way to the clinic. To her calculations, she should arrive as soon as you finished your wisdom teeth surgery. 

“Maybe I could paint Y/N as Mona Lisa.” She adopted a thoughtful expression but quickly tossed that particular idea in the trash can. “Nah, I like the clown idea better.” 

When she arrived, she noticed that she was receiving quite a few odd looks from the receptionists. Chaeyoung looked down at her bulging black bag. Now that she took a proper look at it, it did kind of look like a body bag. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “Ah, just some outfits for my next photo-shoot,” She said. You know, like an absolute liar.

They nodded understandingly and seemed to quickly forget about her presence as they went back to work. Soon after, Chaeyoung was directed into a small white room with waxed wooden floors. They told her to wait here as they went to grab you. She bounced in her seat in excitement, mentally preparing herself to make you the prettiest clown in the entire universe. 

You got wheeled in on a white bed, seemingly asleep. Chaeyoung grinned evilly as soon as the assistant had left the room. “Attack!” She screamed her battle cry before whipping out her brushes. 

She made quick work of the paint, mixing various colours expertly to get just the right shade of red. Truth be told, she was a little skeptical as to why you were not waking up. However, she got so caught up in her work, she quickly forgot about it. 

A couple of minutes in, she had already successfully, although a little messily, painted the white around your eyes and lips. She also managed to finish the red nose and cheeks. All in all, she was pretty proud of herself. In-between sessions, she would take photos of you from various angles. When she took a quick step back, she realized you looked absolutely comical. 

Laughing in amusement, she decided to stop there and just let you wake up naturally. Washing her brushes in the nearby sink, she eyed you carefully, excited to see what you would do after you woke up. 

When you eventually did wake up, you stared at her groggily, confusion contorting your facial features. Chaeyoung stifled a laugh. The clown makeup was truly spectacular. Dare she say it was her best work yet. 

It was time for the reveal. Chaeyoung opened her phone camera and directed it to your face. At first, you were extremely surprised by the sight. However, you didn’t say anything. You just touched your face gently, pinching and stretching your skin. She chuckled at how adorably confused you looked. 

“I guess the laughing gas still hasn’t left your system yet,” Chaeyoung deducted. 

“Chae?” You mumbled, a little disoriented. She hummed playfully, happily awaiting for your response. She desperately wanted to hear your thoughts. You looked up at her in amazement, eyes full of wonder. “The plastic surgery was a complete success. I look gorgeous.” 

Chaeyoung doubled over in laughter, hitting her head on the bed in the process. 

Sure, she later ended up in the ER, diagnosed with a slight concussion. And on top of that, after the laughing gas left your system and you realized what Chaeyoung had done, you started to ignore her, despite her best efforts to cheer you up. 

However, it was all worth it in the end because she really did get some amazing blackmail photos. 

CHOU TZUYU

Tzuyu, despite her member’s constant reassurance, was still a little scared about having to take care of you. She’s never had any of her friends or family members have surgery. And the time that Jihyo had received her knee surgery, Tzuyu wasn’t even around her. Jihyo had stayed home with her parents, absent from all of their scheduled activities. 

She nervously played with her fingers, patiently awaiting your arrival. When you finally did arrive in the post-surgery room, she was so stunned by the immediate bruising of your cheeks, she had barely paid any attention to what the assistant had told her. 

When she realized that she had zoned out, she sheepishly asked the employee to repeat it. They smiled kindly before quickly giving her a small summary of what they said before leaving the room. 

According to the assistant, you were to stay there until all of the laughing gas had left your system. You might say or do weird things, but that was all normal. Tzuyu pulled out her phone and quickly set her timer for ten minutes. That should be enough time for the effects to wear off. She sat ramrod straight, a little awkward and unsure of what to do next.

However, when you groaned in apparent pain, she immediately rushed to your side. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” She grabbed your hands, hoping some physical contact would help comfort you. 

“My tummy.” That was not the answer she was expecting. 

“Your stomach?” She asked bewildered. You just had a wisdom teeth surgery, there was absolutely no reason for your stomach to be hurting. She patted your stomach lightly whilst staring at your face, trying to pinpoint where exactly the pain was coming from. 

Another small groan left your throat as she apparently touched a sore spot just above your belly button. Tzuyu was definitely panicking by now. Her eyes shot back and forth as she scanned the rest of your body. What had they done to you?

“You fill my tummy with butterflies.” You grinned cheekily at her, any supposed pain was quickly forgotten. She gaped at your words, unsure of what to say. Tzuyu’s cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree, the redness quickly reaching the tips of your ears. There was no reason to be so nervous, she reasoned with herself.

Dear god, you were being adorable. Even under the influence of laughing gas, you were still a smooth talker. She giggled as the sudden invasive feeling of being a high school student with a crush filled her system. She felt oddly flattered and more than little flustered. Her eyes softened as her entire body relaxed. 

However, your expression quickly suddenly turned serious. “I’d appreciate it if you could stop though. I need that room for food.” 

Tzuyu burst out in laughter, completely caught off guard by your sudden change in demeanour. Yup, there was no reason to be nervous after all. 

[musette22]

Body Politics

Read on AO3

Paring: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Word count: 9.4k

Rating: E (so 18+ only please!)

A/N: Okaayyy! So it took a while, but I finally wrote the thing based on this prompt (which I unfortunately accidentally deleted, but I saved the prompt itself):"hello! I saw some pics of chris with various politicans for his new project and thought about a stucky/evanstan fic in which chris/steve wants to film a clip with a newly elected senator who turns out to be bucky/seb and chris/steve just can't deal with the hotness." 

It’s… a bit longer than I intended it to be - surprise! As always, I’ve posted it to AO3 and I’d recommend reading it there because it really is quite long (that’s what she said). Hope you enjoy the filth 💖 N.B. I know you asked for Senator Sebastian, but it seemed to fit better with the story to make him a Representative instead! Hope that’s ok!

Body Politics

Chris has done dozens of these videos by now. In fact, he did two of them just this morning. He knows the drill, he knows what he’s doing, there’s really no reason to be nervous anymore. And yet, as per usual right before he’s going in, his anxiety is peaking, causing him to feel jittery and queasy, and like he’s suddenly forgotten everything he’s supposed to know about the American political system.

God, he’s going to make a massive fool of himself. What the fuck was he thinking? Should’ve just stayed in his lane, like plenty of people told him to. He sighs at his reflection in the mirror, splashing his face with cold water in the hope it will help him focus.  

“Ready?” Mark asks him, as soon as he steps out into the hallway where Mark had been waiting for him.

“Absolutely,” Chris nods, all put on confidence and ease which he definitely isn’t feeling. “Let’s do this.”

Mark is well aware how bad Chris’s anxiety tends to get before this sort of thing, but he doesn’t comment. He knows Chris will be fine as soon as the cameras turn on and he can stop being Chris Evans, meatball and anxious mess, and start being Chris Evans, movie star and aspiring politician – or, as most people view him, real life Captain America. Chris doesn’t mind that image so much. He’s proud of what he’s done with the character and besides, Steve Rogers is a better man than he’ll ever be. Sometimes it’s a little frustrating when people seem to be more excited about meeting Cap than about what it is Chris is there to discuss with them – things that are important not only to him personally, but to the fate of the entire country. But on the flipside, his Cap persona has opened a lot of doors for him, and that makes the occasional flare of irritation more than worth it. Politicians and civil servants are just people too, after all. Well. Most of them.

Today, Chris is meeting with Democratic Representative Sebastian Stan. Stan is quite new on the Hill, and Chris was doubtful whether meeting with him would be worthwhile. But Mark had said he’d heard good things about the guy, plus he was willing to meet with them, so Chris had decided to give him a chance. Since it was all quite last minute, he hadn’t really had time to do much research on Stan and just read the notes that Mark had sent him earlier this morning. 

Chris was impressed with the guy’s resume, and despite his usual nerves he was quite looking forward to speaking with him. It was undoubtedly going to be better than interviewing some stuffy old Republican. Again. Chris is well aware that he signed up for this whole bipartisan thing himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally get the urge to throw hands when he hears someone like Ted Cruz or Dan Crenshaw spout their conservative bullshit.

Chris walks into the office that’s set up like a small film set: two simple folding chairs set up on a worn rug in front of some antique, mahogany cabinets, giving the appearance of nonchalant sophistication. Next to the chairs are some studio lights and reflectors, and two cameras, one behind each chair.  

Mark takes a seat on the far end of the room, there to observe and chime in if necessary, while Chris hikes up the knees of his dress pants before sits down on one of the folding chairs. He crosses his legs, tapping his pen against the papers resting on his knee while they wait for Representative Stan to arrive.

After a minute or two, the door behind Chris opens, and he gets up, ready to greet the Representative. He turns with a smile, which freezes on his face as he comes face to face with the guy he’s supposed to be interviewing.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

The thought flits through Chris’s mind, unbidden and very, very inappropriate, under the circumstances.

It’s true, though. Standing before him, wide smile on his face and his hand held out expectantly, is a man who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the kind of red carpet that Chris frequently finds himself on, too. Chris’s body moves on autopilot, greeting Stan and shaking his hand, while his brain produces nothing but static, helplessly stuck on a litany of holy shit he’s gorgeous what do I do what do I say.

Representative Stan is dressed in a perfectly tailored, aubergine suit, his chestnut hair slicked back in a way that could’ve seemed skeevy, but instead looks sleek and sophisticated. His steel-blue eyes are bright and intelligent, but there’s a glimmer of something almost mischievous in them, too – as if Stan knows something Chris doesn’t and he may choose to waylay him any minute. Stan’s jawline and cheekbones could cut glass, and his mouth… Chris has to make a conscious effort to look away from his mouth, or this could get really awkward really fast.

It’s only when both of them have taken place on their respective folding chairs and Gino, their camera guy, asks them if they’re good to go, that Chris’s brain decides to cooperate again. Not fully, but just enough to be able to focus on the questions he knows he needs to ask. He clears his throat and plasters on a smile, hoping fervently that he at least outwardly appeared like he knew what he was doing while he was inwardly busy having a melt down over a pretty boy.

He shakes himself. It isn’t just a pretty boy. Sebastian Stan is a United States Representative. One who is now looking at him expectantly from the chair opposite, ready to answer Chris’s questions about healthcare for all, gun control and gerrymandering.

Oh, Christ.

Stealing himself, Chris nods at Gino, signaling for him to turn on the cameras. He takes a deep breath, and starts.

“Representative Stan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for sitting down with us today and for agreeing to answer some of my questions.”

“Please, call me Sebastian,” Stan replies, smiling. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

Chris swallows, trying hard not to get stuck on the word pleasure or the way Sebastian’s slight New York drawl sounds coming from that beautiful mouth, and asks his first question. “Sebastian. Could you tell me, in sixty seconds, what your stance is on gun control?”

---

Representative Stan’s – Sebastian’s – answers are all incredibly thoughtful yet to the point, and with every reply Chris feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into a state of despair. He’s pretty and he shares Chris’s opinions on basically everything? This guy is trouble. Heaps of it.

When Chris asks question four, he almost falters when he thinks he catches Sebastian looking him up and down, gaze lingering for a moment on his hands and shoulders. But surely that’s just wishful thinking? Just in case, Chris quickly checks Sebastian’s left hand: no ring. When he meets Sebastian’s eyes again, the corner of his mouth ticks up into a hint of a smirk, as if he knows exactly what Chris was doing.

Immediately, Chris feels his cheeks heat up. Not for the first time in his adult life he’s grateful for the fact that his beard covers most of his face. He clears his throat again and sits up straighter, trying to appear as if he’s listening intently to Sebastian’s next reply instead of freaking out about the possibility that Sebastian might be interested back. Just the idea makes Chris feel too hot under the lights suddenly, his collar too tight around his neck.

He holds it together relatively well for the remainder of the interview, only tripping up and staring at Sebastian’s mouth as he talks maybe two or three times, and honestly, he kind of feels like he deserves some kind of medal for that. When his final question, regarding constituencies, has been answered, Chris represses the urge to sigh in relief. As soon as the cameras turn off, he reaches up to loosen his tie just a tad, needing to get some air.

And, lo and behold, Sebastian’s gaze tracks the movement, before settling on Chris’s mouth for just a moment. A thrill of excitement runs through Chris’s body, head to toe. Is he reading this right? Fuck, he hopes he’s reading this right.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Chris says, standing up and watching Sebastian do the same. “This was all very interesting. It’ll be a valuable contribution to A Starting Point, I’m sure.”

“Not a problem,” Sebastian replies pleasantly. “It’s been very” – he pauses to lick his lips, not breaking eye contact – “enlightening.”

Oh, boy.

Chris holds out his hand again and Sebastian takes it. There’s no mistaking it now: the handshake lasts too long for it to be entirely professional and there is definitely more eye contact than necessary. Chris’s heart is beating in his throat by the time he finally pulls his hand back, daring to subtly let his fingers brush Sebastian’s wrist. He watches in satisfaction as Sebastian’s eyes darken a fraction, a spark of heat flashing through them before he smiles pleasantly again and turns around to thank Gino and Mark.

Chris internally slaps himself in the face. Jesus, this is such an inconvenient time and place to develop a crush on someone. Still, he already knows he’s helpless against Sebastian’s charm and he’ll probably spend the next few weeks or so pathetically (and unethically) watching the footage they just shot and daydreaming about all the things he wish he could’ve done to him. It’s just not fair for someone so smart and dedicated to also be this hot.

When Sebastian turns to him again, Chris valiantly pretends he’s not in the middle of a mental breakdown and gives him a smile.

“So, Chris,” Sebastian starts, pensively rubbing his chin. “Can I call you Chris?”

“Of course,” Chris hastens to assure him. “I’m just regular old Chris.” Regular old Chris? Pathetic.

“Okay then,” Sebastian replies, and his eyes are dancing. “Chris it is. So, I’m sure you’re busy, but I’d love to pick your brain on something. I wonder if you have a moment?”

Well, damn. Maybe Chris won’t just be daydreaming after all.

Chris nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Sure, yeah. No problem. You were my last interview for the day anyway, so I’ve got time.” He looks at Mark, who’s standing over by the doorway. “Are you okay going ahead without me? I’m not sure how long this will take so there’s not need to wait around for me, I guess.”

Mark, who, unlike Chris, is not an idiot, looks far too knowing. “Absolutely. You take your time, Chris. Do what needs to be done, and all that,” he grins. “I’m gonna head back to the hotel, got plenty of work to be catching up with. I’ll see you later.” Turning to Sebastian, Mark adds, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care. Be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replies, giving Mark a playful wink.

Mark turns to smirk at Chris one more time before he grabs his briefcase and heads out the door behind Gino and his assistant, leaving Chris and Sebastian by themselves. The sudden silence is a little stifling, and Chris is the first to break it.

“So…” he says, like an idiot.

Sebastian inclines his head with a smile. “So,” he replies, looking back up at Chris from under his eyelashes. “My office is a little further down the hall, if you want to follow me. It’s not much, but at least it offers better seating than a couple of folding chairs.”

Chris laughs, a little louder than the comment warrants, but he’s nervous, okay? He’s not sure where this afternoon will take him, but he sure hopes he’s not reading this wrong and Sebastian isn’t going to break out some official documents for them to discuss the moment they step into his office.

Sebastian leads the way through a maze of corridors, occasionally raising a hand in greeting while Chris tries to keep his head down. He doesn’t mind being recognized or stopped, usually, but he’d rather not have to chat to some random stranger while he’s on his way to what is potentially a really hot and really inappropriate hookup. He gets a few looks, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Sebastian’s back, and fortunately it isn’t long before Sebastian opens a door on the left hand of the corridor, gesturing Chris inside.  

It’s just a normal Capitol Hill office; not too big, all white walls and dark wooden furniture that’s seen better days but that still does the trick. The window looks out onto a lawn, high enough up to ensure no one is able to see inside when they look up on their lunchbreak walk. Sebastian’s desk is littered with papers, most of them organized into neat piles and held down by paperweights. A man after Chris’s own heart.

The door closes behind them with an audible click, and Chris stills. His instincts tell him to fill the silence with mindless chatter, but he knows he’s likely to say something embarrassing that could well end up jeopardizing this whole rendezvous. So he bites his tongue, and waits for Sebastian to speak first.

Sebastian takes his sweet time – whether because he doesn’t know what to say either or to rile him up, Chris isn’t sure.

“Take a seat,” he says eventually, gesturing to the sturdy, armless chair in the middle of the room, about two yards between it and the wooden desk near the window. Chris, starting to wonder if this is going to be just business after all, does as he’s told, expecting Sebastian to take place behind his desk.

Sebastian doesn’t. Instead, he perches on the edge of his desk, one foot on the ground and crossing his wrists on his left knee. Chris is having flashbacks to being called into the principal’s office, only much, much better.

“I really do admire your initiative and ambitions with this website,” Sebastian says, sounding genuine. “It’s always a risk for someone from the entertainment industry to venture into politics and usually I’d say it’s not a great idea.” He pauses, and Chris fights the urge to squirm in his seat. “But then, usually,” Sebastian continues, “people are after some kind of power or influence, whereas you’re concerned with making sure people are informed enough to vote, and vote wisely. I think that’s a very admirable aspiration.”

Chris sends Sebastian a grateful smile. “Thank you. A lot of people think I’m just sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong and I should stick to acting, but I care deeply about these issues. My career has afforded me a platform, an opportunity to make my voice heard, and I can’t not use that opportunity to try and make a difference.”

“That’s exactly it,” Sebastian agrees. “Sure, you’ve got a famous face and name, but you’re not taking advantage of it. You’re using it to do some good. And, um –” He pauses, biting his lower lip around a smile and tilting his head a little to the left, before finishing, “Well, let’s just say I think that’s very sexy of you.”

Chris barks out a surprised laugh. “Glad to hear it, Rep- Sebastian,” he corrects himself. Gathering his courage, he deliberately, slowly lets his gaze sweep Sebastian’s form, head to toe and back again. “And as it happens,” he goes on, deciding to throw caution to the wind and just go for it, “I think you’ve got many excellent qualities yourself.”

A slow smile spreads over Sebastian’s handsome face, lighting up his features and momentarily stealing Chris’s breath away.

“That so?” Sebastian looks down at the floor for a moment, then looks back up at him through his eyelashes – to devastating effect. Chris is pretty sure he lets out a quiet gasp, his heart tripping over itself in his chest.

Jesus Christ, where is his cool when he needs it? Or his game, for that matter.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sebastian continues, head still cocked and fixing Chris with his gaze. “You’re not at all how I was expecting you to be.”

“How were you expecting me to be?”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian gives him a considering look. “Less down to earth, less likeable, more Hollywood?”

Chris huffs a laugh. “Yeah, people usually tell me I’m a little disappointing in real life. Shorter than they were expecting, not as muscly, etcetera etcetera.”

Sebastian frowns, a little wrinkle appearing on his brow that Chris immediately wants to smooth out with his thumb.

“Oh no, I don’t think you’re disappointing at all. You’ve exceeded my expectations, if anything. I figured it probably took tons of make up to make you look as dashing as you do on screen, but if anything I think you’re more handsome in real life.” Gesturing at him, Sebastian clarifies, “The beard, the waist, the shoulders – it’s… quite something.”

“Oh,” Chris says intelligently. “Thank you.” He winces. “I mean-”

“You’re cute,” Sebastian interrupts, grinning.

“I –” Chris falters again, dropping his head into his hands. “Fuck, I swear I’m usually smoother than this.” He looks back up at Sebastian a little sheepishly. “You just kinda caught me off guard. I guess you surpassed my expectations, too. I wasn’t expecting a Representative too be quite so…”

“So?” Sebastian prompts, still watching him closely.

“Gorgeous,” Chris breathes.

This time, it’s Sebastian who sucks in a breath, his eyes widening just a little. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but Chris is watching him closely so he notices. Seems Sebastian isn’t quite as unaffected by all this as he first appeared. That knowledge makes something in Chris’s chest loosen, helps him regain his footing a little.

Keeping his eyes locked with Sebastian’s, Chris slowly uncrosses his legs, planting both his feet firmly on the ground. Sebastian’s eyes drop down to Chris’s lap before they flick up to his face again. His perfectly white, straight teeth – more Hollywood than Capitol Hill – sink into his plump bottom lip, right hand dropping to his waist to casually unfasten the button on his suit jacket.

For a few seconds, neither of them speaks or moves, the tension in the room almost palpable now. Chris suppresses a shiver when Sebastian slowly gets up and walks over to him with an air of a predator approaching its prey.

Unconsciously, Chris holds his breath, then lets it out again in a rush when Sebastian plants his hands on Chris’s shoulders and proceeds to straddle his thighs, sitting down squarely in Chris’s lap.

Chris makes a sound, somewhere between surprised and helplessly turned on, his hands flying up to rest on Sebastian’s waist. “Whoa, I- okay.” He swallows nervously.

“Okay?” Sebastian checks.

Chris nods, a little too quickly to be suave, but hey, this is kind of an unusual situation.

Sebastian relaxes infinitesimally, the only sign that he’s not quite as confident here as he appears to be. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes drifting over Chris’s features.

From up close, Chris can count Sebastian’s eyelashes, can see the hint of a stubble on his jawline. He’s intoxicating, and Chris doesn’t dare move an inch as he lets Sebastian study him. Finally, after he’s looked his fill, Sebastian’s gaze comes to rest on Chris’s mouth. His tongue, pink and wet, flicks out to wet his own lips, and Chris’s mouth starts to water. He aches with how much he wants to kiss that pretty, pouty mouth.

After a long, loaded moment, Sebastian leans in, his breath ghosting Chris’s lips for a second and making his heart race in anticipation, before he finally presses their mouths together.

The kiss is soft, lush, almost sweet. Chris holds his breath, his stomach flipping like he’s some kind of blushing virgin being kissed for the very first time.

Then, Sebastian makes a sound – a tiny, throaty noise that’s almost a moan but not quite, and something inside of Chris snaps. He groans, parting his lips and urging Sebastian to do the same, and then they’re kissing, hard and openmouthed. Chris slides one hand up Sebastian’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sebastian moans for real this time, hands smoothing over the fabric of Chris’s suit jacket, lingering on his shoulders and arms.

“Fuck,” Sebastian mutters against Chris’s mouth, squeezing his biceps. “So fucking hot.”

Chris is used to being called hot, of course. It’s inescapable in his profession. But coming from Sebastian, quite probably the sexiest man on God’s green earth, the words mean a lot more than they usually do. It emboldens him enough to wrap an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pull him closer against him, pressing their groins together briefly.

“Uh,” Sebastian hiccups, pulling back a fraction to look down at Chris. His pupils are blown already, lips reddened and spit slick, and Chris wants. He wants this man so much and he hardly even knows him.

“God, look at you,” Chris breathes, staring in something close to awe. “Pretty as a picture, sittin’ in my lap.”

Sebastian swallows, his eyelids fluttering at the compliment, and then he slowly and deliberately grinds down. Both of them groan at the friction, Chris’s own hips jerking upwards of their own accord, and Sebastian does it again, simultaneously leaning down to capture Chris’s lips in another kiss. Soon, they’ve found a sort of rhythm, their hips rolling in time with the slow, luxurious thrusts of their tongues into each other’s mouths. It’s intoxicating - the smell of Sebastian’s aftershave mingling with fresh sweat and arousal making Chris’s head swim.

Already, he’s uncomfortably hard inside his slacks, the need to rut, to seek relief, becoming almost unbearable the longer they spend slowly grinding together on that office chair.

“Sebastian.”

Sebastian hums, dragging his mouth over Chris’s cheeks before taking his earlobe between his teeth, worrying it gently. Chris makes a pitiful noise. He throws his head back automatically, inviting Sebastian to attack his exposed neck next. Licking along the tendons that stand out, Sebastian presses wet little kisses to his throat and jaw, too much and not enough at the same time. It’s like Sebastian has a map to all of Chris’s weak spots, like he’s trying to tick them off one by one until he reaches the spot marked X.

Just when Chris thinks he’s going to have to beg him for some relief, Sebastian pulls back, placing one more lush kiss on his lips before he climbs off Chris’s lap.

On instinct, Chris’s hands fly up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says, panting slightly. “Did I-“

But before he can finish his sentence, Sebastian has quickly taken off his suit jacket and thrown it carelessly to the side, sinking to his knees in front of him. He pushes open Chris’s legs with a hand on either knee, a question in his eyes as he looks up at him.

“I hope you’re alright with this, because I really wanna suck you off.”

Chris does absolutely not squeak. “Yeah, I’m – I’m alright with that.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian grins, feral and beautiful. Slowly, he runs his hands up Chris’s thighs until he reaches his belt, opening it quickly and efficiently. Chris lifts his hips a little so that Sebastian can pull down his slacks just enough to reveal the bulge of his erection, the tip, red and already wet, peaking out over the waistband. Sebastian let’s out a low whistle. He reaches up to press his palm to Chris’s dick through the fabric, squeezing lightly as if to get the measure of it.

Chris inhales sharply. Somehow, Sebastian looks even better from this angle than he had before, and he watches Sebastian’s every move with lidded eyes. “C’mon,” he murmurs, hoping he’s not overstepping.

Sebastian’s eyes snap up to his face, the look in his eyes is downright predatory. “You want it?” he asks, squeezing Chris again and licking his lips.

Chris can’t help but roll his eyes a little. “You know I do, Congressman.”

“Oh, that do it for you, huh?” Sebastian sounds amused, that cheeky twinkle appearing in his eyes again that gets Chris’s pulse racing.

“You do it for me,” Chris replies honestly, reaching down to card a hand through Sebastian’s hair. “I’ll admit it’s kind of hot that you’re in politics and have a lot of the same opinions as I do. But to be honest, if you’d been working at my local gardening center, I’d still have done a double take. You’re just really fucking gorgeous, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looks at him with big, round eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He swallows once, then licks his lips. Hoarsely, he asks, “How are you real?”

Before Chris has had a chance to reply, Sebastian is taking him out of his underwear, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, and taking him into his mouth. Chris groans loudly, his mind blanking out for a second at the exquisite feeling of Sebastian’s hot, wet mouth around his dick.

“Jesus, fuck.”

Sebastian pulls off for a moment, just long enough to mumble, “Language,” before he reapplies himself to his task.

Blinking through the haze of pleasure, Chris stares down at him. “Did you just..?”

Sebastian just moans around him, but his eyes are laughing. Chris can’t help it – he laughs too, out loud, the sound quickly turning into another moan when Sebastian takes him deeper still. He swallows him down, all the way into the back of his throat, making himself gag a little. Pulling back to gulp in a breath, Sebastian keeps his slick, red lips wrapped around the head, gently suckling while his hand grips him with the perfect amount of pressure as he strokes along Chris’s shaft.

Chris hopes he’s not overstepping when he brings his right hand to Sebastian’s head and slides his fingers in his thick, chestnut hair, tugging at it experimentally. If the sound Sebastian makes is anything to go by, he’s more than alright with that development. Chris curls his fingers, messing up Sebastian’s perfectly styled hair and reveling in the effect it has on him, the way it seems to make him sloppier, more desperate.

Sebastian lets him fall from his mouth for a moment to lap at his shaft, before mouthing at the base of it, burying his nose in the coarse hair there. Chris isn’t sure what it is about that particular gesture that hits him, but suddenly the urgency he feels intensifies threefold. He gives Sebastian’s hair an unsubtle tug, pulling him back down, and Sebastian happily lets himself be steered, taking Chris into his mouth once more and beginning to suck him off with renewed vigor.

Sebastian’s mouth is exquisite. Chris has never felt anything quite like it, and it’s not long before he’s a panting, delirious mess. “Oh god,” he breathes, “if you keep that up, I’m not gonna last long.”

Abruptly, Sebastian stops what he’s doing, looking up at him with slightly wild, dark eyes. A gossamer strand of saliva still connects his wet, reddened lips to Chris’s cock.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The words ring out loud and clear in the otherwise silent room, and Chris blows out a quick, steadying breath. He strokes Sebastian’s cheek, thumb trailing over his slightly puffy lower lip.

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Chris says regretfully. “No idea. But I wasn’t exactly anticipating this to happen today, if you know what I mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes light up. A moment later, he’s getting to his feet and hurrying towards the built-in cabinet near the window. Chris watches in confusion as Sebastian produces a black, leather gym bag and rummages around in there for a second, reemerging with a triumphant sound.  

“I’ve got stuff.” Sebastian sounds a little breathless as he holds up a packet of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

Chris grins, raising a single eyebrow.

“I’m a single, gay man,” Sebastian explains, rolling his eyes. “I do go out occasionally, you know. Plus I used to be a boy scout. Always be prepared, and all that.”

“Hey,” Chris says, holding up his hands. “I’m not judging.”

“You totally are,” Sebastian snorts. “You should stop that and fuck me instead. Deal?”

Oh, but Chris loves this. He loves the banter, the way the extreme sexual tension of just moments ago has shifted into something more lighthearted, though still undeniably charged. It’s been a while since he’s had anything more than a one night stand, and those typically leave little room for levity, in his experience. Usually, people are so preoccupied with the fact that they’re sleeping with Chris Evans, Captain America, and so desperate to please him, that it almost becomes a little off putting.

With Sebastian, there’s none of that. Yes, Sebastian’s clearly very attracted to him, but he doesn’t hesitate to crack a joke or make a smartass remark. Chris admires that kind of self-assuredness, that independence, if you will, while he also manages to make it clear how much he wants this.

How much he wants Chris. And the feeling, Chris thinks, as he slowly lets his eyes trail up and down Sebastian’s slightly disheveled form, his entirely mutual.

Purposely lowering his voice, Chris says, “Take off your shoes, socks and pants.”

A visible shiver runs through Sebastian at Chris’s commanding tone.

Chris smiles wolfishly. “That’s what I thought. Today please,” he adds when Sebastian doesn’t move immediately, just stands there like he’s frozen.

Sebastian jerks into action, going over to the desk where he puts down the supplies before turning back to face Chris. Slowly, he starts to toe off his shoes, which he kicks aside, followed by his socks. Chris watches intently as Sebastian’s hands drop to the buttons on his slacks, unbuttoning them one by one before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them down, past the modest swell of his ass. They fall to the floor and he steps out of them easily. Chris’s eyes glue themselves to the bulge in his dark grey briefs, where a wet spot has formed at the front. Next, he lets his gaze trail over Sebastian’s long legs, elegant and yet with firm, muscled thighs that Chris would love to feel wrapped around his waist one day. Or his head. He’s not picky.

Sebastian just stands there, letting himself be looked at, seemingly savoring the attention. Finally, he reaches up to loosen his tie, deftly pulling it off and dropping it. He starts unbuttoning his dress shirt, next, but Chris stops him after he’s opened the last one.

“That’s enough.” He goes to sit up a little straighter in his chair and beckons Sebastian closer. “Come here.”

Obeying beautifully, Sebastian walks over to him, but not before snatching the condoms and lube off the desk. He comes to stand in front of him, holding Chris’s eyes and waiting for further instructions.

“Take off your briefs.”

Sebastian lets out a shaky breath. Slowly, he slides his underwear down his legs and steps out of them. His dick isn’t too large, but it’s pretty, and makes Chris’s mouth water instantly. Reaching out, he puts his hands on Sebastian’s hips. He darts a quick glance up to his face to check if this is okay, when Sebastian just bites his lip as he looks down at him with a heated look in his slate grey eyes, Chris lowers his mouth over Sebastian’s cock.

He lets out a pleased little hum at the taste of him on his tongue, swiping it around the head to lap up the precome that’s gathered at the tip. Sebastian moans beautifully, hands resting on Chris’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle.

“Chris,” he breathes, letting his head fall backwards. Chris looks up at him through his lashes, marveling at how pretty Sebastian looks even from this unflattering angle. He bobs his head and sucks him off with relish, taking him down over and over, until Sebastian’s thighs start to tremble.

“Please.”

Chris pulls off with a wet sound. “Please what?” he asks, voice even rougher than it was moments before.

“I need –” Sebastian whimpers, hips jerking, and Chris thinks he knows exactly what he needs.

He sits back against the back rest and pats his lap. Sebastian takes the hint immediately and climbs on, straddling his thighs. His flushed, leaking cock presses against the front of Chris’s dress shirt, sure to leave a stain, but Chris couldn’t care less. He’s got a lap full of mostly naked Sebastian; he does not feel particularly worried about dry cleaning right now.

Chris allows himself a moment to take Sebastian in. With his flushed cheeks, and dark eyes, glossy with arousal, he’s breathtaking. His hair is mussed and his toned, tanned torso visible through the gap in his opened dress shirt. His cock is hard and flushed, the base surrounded by neatly trimmed pubic hair. Sebastian’s been biting his lips, it seems, because they look extra red – a little raw from the way his teeth have been worrying at them while Chris sucked him off. Needing to taste them more than he’s needed anything in a while, Chris leans in, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss. He runs a hand along Sebastian’s long legs, which are remarkably smooth, like the rest of him. Sebastian balances a line between strong and elegant, and Chris is mesmerized by it.

“God, you’re stunning,” Chris rumbles, trailing a hand from the hollow of Sebastian’s neck all the way down his chest, abs, and then bypassing his cock to slide around to his backside. He grabs a handful of that small but perfectly formed ass and kneads it. Sebastian’s breath hitches, and Chris splays his hand over Sebastian’s tailbone before he deliberately dips his middle finger between his cheeks. When the tip of it brushes Sebastian’s smooth, tight hole, Sebastian gasps, his pupils dilating impossibly further until there’s barely anything left of the beautiful ocean blue of his irises. Their gazes lock while Chris gently teases at Sebastian’s hole with his finger, rubbing little circles there that don’t do a thing yet to loosen him up but that have Sebastian squirming in his lap nonetheless.

It takes approximately a minute of this before Sebastian breaks, whining in the back of his throat in a way that Chris is pretty sure is unintentional.

“What is it, baby?” The endearment is out before Chris can check himself, but the way Sebastian shivers against him shows he doesn’t exactly seem to mind it. “You need something?”

“Yes,” Sebastian breathes.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want your fingers in me,” Sebastian answers instantly, though the way his voice trembles tells Chris it’s harder for him to say it than he’s trying to make it appear. “Please.”

“Anything you need, baby,” Chris assures him, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He takes the lube from Sebastian’s clenched fist, popping open the lid and reluctantly drawing his hand back from Sebastian’s ass to coat his fingers in the stuff. They’re back a moment later though, slick fingers rubbing over Sebastian’s hole with intent, before he starts to work the tip of his forefinger slowly inside. Sebastian sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Chris slowly slides his finger in deeper, his mind bombarding him with signals of hot, tight, wet that go straight to his already rock-hard cock.

He can’t wait to be inside Sebastian, but first, he needs to make sure he does a thorough job opening him up. The last thing Chris wants to do is hurt him. In fact, he’s already ready to fight anyone who ever hurt Sebastian in the past or is planning to in the future, and he’s rather not have to kick his own ass.

“More,” Sebastian demands. His tongue darts out to lick his own lips, and Chris’s cock twitches at the sight. Lining up a second finger next to the first, he slowly presses it in as well, carefully stretching Sebastian’s tight entrance, readying it for his cock. Just that thought alone is enough to make Chris’s brain short-circuit for a second. Sebastian rests his forehead against Chris’s, his breathing picking up, but it doesn’t sound like he’s uncomfortable. So Chris doesn’t stop, instead slightly spreading his fingers to gently pry him open further.

“You’ve got – big fingers,” Sebastian pants, rocking back on them just a little.

“Sorry,” Chris says guiltily.

“No – ah. That’s, that’s really not a bad thing.”

Chris smirks. “I see. You want more?”

“Yes, please,” Sebastian breathes, the last word fading into a moan when Chris adds a third finger to the first two.

“There’s a good boy,” Chris says, kissing Sebastian’s cheek almost sweetly. “Asking for it so nicely.”

Sebastian sighs contently, melting a little further against him. Slowly, Chris starts to slide his fingers in and out while Sebastian’s fingers dig hard into Chris’s biceps. Since Chris knows sometimes the discomfort of the initial stretch can cause an erection to flag, he brings his left hand to Sebastian’s cock to stroke it tightly, just until Sebastian’s eyelids start fluttering from pleasure instead of tension.

Chris keeps him on the edge for a while, aware that he’s probably done enough to prepare him, but unable to stop staring at Sebastian, where he’s open and wanton and beautiful in his lap. It’s only when Sebastian whimpers and buries his face in Chris’s neck, breath hot and moist on his skin, that Chris remembers he’s working towards something here.

“Shhh,” he coos, rubbing Sebastian’s smooth back with his free hand. “It’s alright. I’m gonna give you what you need, okay?”

Sebastian nods shakily, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Chris’s throat.

“Please,” he pleads, somewhere between sweetly and desperately, and Chris’s heart does a funny thing inside his chest. He has to kiss Sebastian again then, deep and slow and consuming, swallowing his beautiful moans as he crooks his fingers inside of him to makes him cry out softly into his mouth.

Finally, Chris makes himself pull back, pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the bottom of his own shirt.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little unmoored and shaky himself. “Alright, stand up for me, honey.”

Sebastian does, climbing off Chris’s lap, and standing there on slightly unsteady legs, like a baby deer, waiting to be told what to do next.

“Take off the shirt and bend over the desk.”

It’s an order, but Chris watches Sebastian’s face carefully so see his reaction, ready to propose something else if he isn’t comfortable with this. He needn’t have worried. Sebastian instantly turns around, all but ripping off his shirt and then pushing aside some of the papers on his desk before bending over it. He keeps his legs straight, making his ass stick up in the air a bit as he presents himself for Chris’s hungry gaze.

For a moment, Chris can’t believe his luck. He came here today with a purpose; to work on his project, his brain child that he cares about a lot, and it had gone well, and that was all Chris has hoped for from today. To find himself in this position now, with the most attractive man he’s ever seen laid out before him like some sort of fata morgana, patiently waiting for Chris to fuck him stupid, that’s something he could never have anticipated. It’s better than anything he could have dreamed up.

“Jesus,” he says out loud, too caught up in his feelings to have much of a brain to mouth filter left. “I can’t believe I got this lucky. Look at you.”  

“Chris,” Sebastian says, sounding a little impatient now. Which makes sense, considering he’s naked in his office on Capitol Hill, draped over his own desk, while some actor guy with his pants open watches him from a chair.

Chris shakes himself and finally gets up. Taking off his suit jacket, he drapes it over the back of the chair, and calmly turns around. He walks closer but still doesn’t touch Sebastian, just stops a few feet away. Something tells him that despite Sebastian’s impatience, he probably quite likes being on display like this. Feeling bold, Chris decides to take it a step further and test him a little.

“Show me,” he says.

Sebastian goes still. “What?”

“You heard me,” Chris repeats calmly. “Show me.”

Chris thinks he hears Sebastian murmur a curse, but then he lifts his arms and brings them to his ass, grabbing his cheeks and parting them, spreading himself open for Chris’s inspection. Chris can’t help the soft groan that escapes him at the sight. Reaching out, he smooths his palm over Sebastian’s lower back, then over the curve at the top of his ass, thumbing him open a little bit further.

“Fuck, that’s pretty.”

And it is. Sebastian’s pink hole is wet and slightly relaxed with how long Chris just spent fingering him. It makes Chris’s mouth water. He briefly entertains the thought of eating him out, but then Sebastian makes another impatient noise, wiggling his ass a little.

“Come on,” he pleads. “Do it, Chris. Just- please.”

A new wave of arousal washes through him, fast and strong, making him feel a little lightheaded.

“Okay, yes, I’m – Fuck. Just one second.” Chris doubles back for the lube, then grabs a condom and prepares himself as quickly as he can with his shaky, fumbling fingers. He positions himself behind Sebastian, his clothed thighs pressing into the back of Sebastian’s bare ones. With his left hand, he grips Sebastian’s hip as the other lines up his cock, resting the tip against his entrance.

“Please,” Sebastian repeats, sounding more desperate than ever, and then Chris is pushing forward, slowly sliding into the warm, welcoming heat of Sebastian’s body.

He grits his teeth to stop himself from moaning too loudly. Despite the thorough preparation, Chris’s brain whites out for a minute at how tight Sebastian feels around him because of his muscles clenching instinctively at the intrusion. Sebastian is making aborted little noises that could be pleasure or pain, and once Chris’s brain comes back online enough to register them, he leans down over Sebastian’s back to press a kiss to his spine as he fully bottoms out. He stays there for a moment, trying to keep his breathing even and kissing up on Sebastian some more in an attempt to distract or comfort him, whatever it is he needs.

But it must not be as bad as Chris thought, because it’s only a couple of seconds before Sebastian starts to push back against him.

“I’m good,” he says hoarsely, “you can move now.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris sighs. He pushes himself back up to his full height and draws out a few inches, groaning at the drag of Sebastian’s inner walls around his cock before pushing back in. He means to go slow, to let Sebastian adjust, but it feels so good that he can’t help but slide in deep and stay there for a moment, drawing tight little circles with his hips that have Sebastian shuddering below him.

Unable to help himself, Chris pulls back and snaps his hips forward again forcefully, burying himself deeper into Sebastian’s welcoming heat. Judging by the sound Sebastian lets out, he does not mind. In fact, as Chris starts pumping his hips and driving into Sebastian over and over again, Sebastian starts to become louder and louder, moans and curses falling freely from his lips.

Chris adores every single sound Sebastian makes as he lays into him, but part of him is still conscious of the fact that they’re at Sebastian’s place of work. The door may be locked – at least, he hopes it is – but he doubts the room is soundproof, and he’d never forgive himself if their little tryst ended up jeopardizing Sebastian’s job or reputation in any way. Since Sebastian doesn’t respond to Chris’s pleas to keep it down, Chris doesn’t see any other option than to bend forward and put his hand over Sebastian’s mouth, muffling his cries.

“I’m sorry,” he says, genuinely regretful. “If we’d been somewhere private I’d’ve let you be as loud as you want, sweetheart. But this is your office. We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”

Sebastian moans in a way that Chris thinks could mean that he in fact does want everyone to hear them, but while that may be true in the moment, Chris is pretty sure Sebastian would regret it hugely after everything was said and done and the whole wing knew of their sexcapades. So he keeps his hand where it is, even if it impedes his freedom of movement a bit.

When he feels Sebastian lick at his palm, Chris’s first thought is he’s just being a brat, but when he does it again, Chris takes the hint. He takes his hand off Sebastian’s mouth and puts his fingers to his lips. Sebastian immediately takes them into his mouth, lips closing around them as he suckles them like he’d sucked on Chris’s dick before, making content little noises.

“Oh, baby,” Chris groans, rolling his hips again as he feeds Sebastian his cock and his fingers at the same time. “You just needed something to suck on, huh? Being fucked not enough for you? You wish you had my cock in your mouth, too?”

Sebastian whines around his fingers, and Chris rewards him with an extra forceful thrust that has Sebastian scrambling for purchase on the edges of his desk.

Just so he can draw this out as long as he can, Chris takes it down a notch, slowing until he’s just leisurely sliding in and out, making his strokes long and deep and getting Sebastian to sigh in pleasure below him. Part of Chris wishes he could just stop time right here, stay suspended in this moment in time forever, buried inside in the most stunning man he’s ever had. Not that he’s had all that many men. He’s definitely bisexual, but he tends to lean towards women a little bit more – at least, he thought he did.

Being here now, with Sebastian, he genuinely can’t imagine wanting anything else ever again. Which is… something to be examined closer when he’s not balls deep, perhaps. To stop his mind from overthinking, Chris changes their positions, pulling his fingers from Sebastian’s mouth and ignoring his protests. He pulls him upright by the shoulders, plastering his clothed chest to Sebastian’s naked back.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, lifting his hands to grab at the arm that Chris wraps around his chest.

Chris buries his face in Sebastian’s neck, dragging his lips and beard over the sensitive skin until Sebastian is squirming against him. Chris groans in Sebastian’s ear, tongue darting out to lick around the shell.

“You feel so good around me, sugar,” he praises, free hand dropping down to press Sebastian’s leaking erection against his belly. “You feeling good, too?”

Sebastian shudders against him, clearly torn between whether to press back or push forward into Chris’s hand. “Please, please, can I-”

Chris hums, shaking his head. “Sorry, honey. Not yet.” He slides his hand down from Sebastian’s clavicle to his pectoral, flicking experimentally at his left nipple with his thumb.

“No, no, unnghh,” Sebastian moans, letting his head fall back against Chris’s shoulders.

“Ohh,” Chris chuckles, charmed. “Sensitive, huh? How’s it feel when I touch ‘em? Feel good?” Not waiting for Sebastian’s reply, Chris takes the hard little nub between his thumb and forefinger and tweaks it lightly.

“Oh fuck,” Sebastian curses, jolting like he’s electrocuted, before panting, “Do that again.”

Chris doesn’t have it in him to deny Sebastian anything right now, so he repeats the movement and tries not to come on the spot from the way Sebastian’s ass tightens around him when he does. In his experience, most guys’ nipples aren’t all that sensitive, but from Sebastian’s reactions, is sure seems like he’s a nipple kinda guy. Which works out perfectly, because Chris is too. He’s already dying to suck on them sometime, scrape his beard over them, worry them between his teeth and find out how far he can work Sebastian up just from playing with his pretty nipples.

When Sebastian whimpers and sighs, yes, please, yes, Chris realizes he’s said all that out loud. And even though this might just be sex-drunk ramblings, Chris’s heart leaps at the implication that there might be a next time.

Keeping up a steady pace, Chris continues to fuck into Sebastian from behind while he rubs and pinches at his chest. He relishes the high-pitched noises that fall from Sebastian’s lips seemingly without conscious thought: he’s lost in it, just like Chris is lost in him, and it feels so fucking good.

Finally, when he feels the tell-tale tightening in his balls, Chris almost reluctantly pushes Sebastian away from him, down onto the table. He’s loath to let go of him, would much rather keep him close, but he’s conscious that he’s not hitting the spot in that position, and he wants to make this as good for Sebastian as he possibly can.

With a hand on his lower back, Chris presses Sebastian down as he starts to finally give it to him properly, pulling almost all the way out on every stroke before plunging back in. He chances a look down, mesmerized at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Sebastian’s hole, which hungrily draws him in over and over again. There’s something almost obscene about the fact that Chris is still fully clothed, just his dick out, while Sebastian is gloriously naked, unabashed and wanton, letting himself be taken.

“Oh Jesus,” Chris pants, crazy with it, his body feeling loose and too-tight at the same time. “You’re so fucking hot, you’ve got no idea. Driving outta my fucking mind, sweetheart, Christ.”

“Harder,” Sebastian pleads, trying to muffle his cries in his own forearm. “Fuck me harder, c’mon.”

A haze comes over Chris’s brain, the only thing he can see and feel being Sebastian and the buzz in  his veins, the pleasure coiling in his gut, so close to release. He grabs Sebastian’s hips and pulls him back against him every time he fucks into him, and suddenly, Sebastian’s moans change. They become higher and breathier, littered with aborted curses, and Chris knows he’s hitting the spot.

“Like that, baby? You like it like that?” Chris doesn’t care that he probably sounds like a bad porno right now, his entire consciousness filled with the scent of arousal in the air and the slick, filthy sounds of their bodies joining mixed with obscene moans.

Sebastian isn’t much better, anyway, keeping up a near constant litany of Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, in time with his beautiful, naked body being shoved up and down the table with every forceful thrust of Chris’s hips.

“Oh god,” Sebastian gasps suddenly. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.”

“You’re – like this?” Chris asks incredulously. “You don’t need me to-?“

“I need you to keep going,” Sebastian groans. “Just like this, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris grits out. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he could stop now even if he wanted to. He’s so close.

Sebastian seems to finally have lost the capacity for speech altogether, the little breathless ah, ah, ah, sounds that Chris punches out of him the only thing he can manage.

“I’m guh-” Sebastian tries futilely, but he doesn’t get further than that.

“Now,” Chris orders, aiming another trust right into Sebastian’s prostate and grinding down on it, his hips flush with Sebastian’s ass. “Come for me, do it.”

And Sebastian does. He keens, body seizing up, clenching tightly around Chris’s cock. Chris’s hips stutter, wanting to keep thrusting, but it’s too much. Before Sebastian has even finished, Chris’s orgasm slams into him like a freight train. He comes with a long, drawn out moan, losing all sense of place or time as waves of pleasure wash over him, cock pulsing as he fills up the condom with his release.

Chris isn’t proud of it, but he more or less collapses onto Sebastian’s back when he starts to come down, his heaving, dress shirt-clad chest against Sebastian’s sweat-damp back. Chris presses his lips to Sebastian’s shoulder blade, panting against his skin as he catches his breath for a good few minutes.

Finally, his softening dick slips out, and Chris is forced to get up. “Give me one second,” he murmurs, looking around and spotting a box of tissues that’s fallen to the floor. He quickly removes and ties off the condom, wrapping it in a tissue and tossing it in the trashcan, along with the one he uses to clean himself. Next, he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up, before he grabs another hand full of tissues. He cleans Sebastian up carefully, mindful not to be too rough with his undoubtedly sensitive, softening cock.

“You okay?” Chris whispers, gently stroking the slight curve of Sebastian’s hip.

Sebastian just hums in reply, not showing any inclination to get up of his own accord. He seems pretty out of it, honestly, so Chris helps him up and then guides them both to sit down in the chair again. He pulls Sebastian into his lap, against his chest, the contrast between their states of dress even starker now than it was before. Somehow, Chris is a little moved by it, by how much Sebastian seems to trust him, even if he barely knows him. It makes him tighten his grip instinctively, murmuring praise and endearments into Sebastian’s hair as Sebastian’s head lolls back against Chris’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Sebastian starts to stir, blinking open his eyes and shivering a little. Chris pulls him closer still, rubbing his hands over Sebastian’s arms and legs in an attempt to warm him up a little.

“You with me again?” Chris asks quietly, lips brushing Sebastian’s ear.

Sebastian swallows, then gives a short nod. “Yeah.” His voice comes out thick, so he clears his throat. “I’m- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to let myself go quite so much.”

He sounds embarrassed, and Chris won’t stand for that.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He grabs Sebastian’s chin, turning his face so he can pull him into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, without much intent, and Sebastian hums into it. “You were perfect,” Chris praises as he pulls away. “You are perfect.”

Despite the fact that he’s been naked all this time, this is what makes Sebastian blush, and Chris watches the color appear in his cheeks with delight, chasing it with his lips and nuzzling Sebastian’s hot cheeks.

“You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself,” Sebastian breathes. He turns into Chris further, lifting a hand to run it first through Chris’s beard and then his hair, tugging him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, and Chris lets himself melt into it.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when you looked at me like that, earlier,” Sebastian confesses, speaking against Chris's lips. “Never woulda thought you’d have been into guys, let alone that you’d be like this.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he means by that, because Chris understands. He never thought Sebastian would’ve been like that, either.

Chris gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I’m bisexual, but I don’t flaunt it. ‘Cause, you know – Hollywood.”

Sebastian hums. “Yeah, I do know,” he says, before adding, “Capitol Hill,” by way of explanation.

A giggle bubbles up inside of Chris that he can’t quite stop in time.

When Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him in question, Chris blurts out, “We just fucked on Capitol Hill.”

Sebastian laughs, bright and happy, resting his forehead against Chris’s. “We sure did, sweetheart.”

He probably shouldn’t push his luck, but Chris has never been very good at keeping his feelings do himself. Before he can question it too much, he says, “So, I know it’s all backwards, but… I’d love to take you out for dinner. If – if you want.”

A sweet, fond smile spreads over Sebastian’s face. “Well, as it happens, I could really go for a burger and a beer, right about now.”

Chris groans, squeezing Sebastian’s waist. “If only you could be naked for the whole thing, and it would be perfect.”

Sebastian laughs. “Maybe on our second date. If you’re lucky.”

It Chris crosses his fingers behind Sebastian’s back, no one needs to know.

Read (and comment?) on AO3 - Thank you! ❤️

[jeonggukkiepabo]

MIKROKOSMOS [PJM]

SUMMARY: There’s nothing that pisses Y/N off more than her own life. Her family is highly religious, wealthy and nothing she’d consider fun. Her surrounding is boring, but once the new guy, Park Jimin, decides to sit right next to her, Y/N enters a new world filled with romance & fun. Little did she know that this kind of fun had his shadow side to it.

WARNINGS: THIS FIC MIGHT CONSIDER TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR SOME OF YOU. IT CONSISTS OF RELIGIOUS TALK (not in a positive way), DRUG ABUSE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MANIPULATIVE BEHAVIOR AND MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THAT! I DO NOT WANT TO ROMANTICIZE DRUG USE, BECAUSE IT IS NOT ROMANTIC, THERE’S NOTHING FUN ABOUT IT. PLEASE BE SAFE! other than that there’s a few smut scenes, an orgy and some homosexual scenes.

WORD COUNT: 24k 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: a big ass thank you goes out to my babe @namjooniebjonesuniverse​ for betaing this piece, i love you

PROLOGUE x YOU’LL NEVER WALK ALONE

“I don’t get it, Y/N! What did we do to you? How could you end up like that?” Your mother broke down in tears while looking down at your dirty, probably disgusting smelling self. 

“You’re the worst thing that could’ve happened to our family! Just because you decided to fall in love with this Jimin guy. The devil has sent him to test you, but you failed. You sinned just to receive a bit of pleasure instead of listening to our God!” 

Your mother was talking herself into a rage, her veins popping out of her neck as she continued yelling at you, but you didn’t even listen, ignoring your own mother like you already did the past couple of months.

God here, God there. That’s all your family was talking about ever since you were little. Talking about that weird guy that seems to live in the clouds, watching you living and judging whatever you were doing down there. But, how could you think about Jesus when your mind was full of other things? Like your next shot.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it! You’re not even listening to your own mother! I need to call the church so they can send pastor Jin to us, he needs to clean your mind! He needs to get those demons out of your thoughts.”

Suddenly, she starts praying, which is your opportunity to get out of here. You slowly walk back into your room, shivering as the cold floor touched your naked feet, closing the door and smirking at the beautiful man that was already laying in your dirty bed.

“Took you long enough, babe. Did your mother tell you I’m the devil’s son again? That I came straight from hell to ruin your life? Why don’t you listen to her, angel? Why won’t you leave me for your own sake?” His fingers trail over your lips, his actions already weakening you to the bones. Jimin chuckles, his still very muscular chest rising. His voice is full of sarcasm while his lips form the devilish grin that caused you to fall for him a long time ago. 

Meanwhile, he takes the old, rusty utensils from the nightstand and slowly pours the white powder on top of the spoon. As soon as you realized his actions, your mind goes crazy and your tiny, destroyed body begins to shake from the sudden pain you feel. Much to your irritation, Jimin takes his time preparing his own shot, holding the lighter under the spoon painfully slow. 

“For fuck’s sake, hurry!”, your raspy voice breaks, but you could bet that he understood what you were saying - he just didn’t bother to listen. “Jimin, I can’t wait any longer!” Your cold hands were starting to shake so badly that you already knew that you couldn’t even prepare your own shot if he wasn’t ready within the next few minutes. But you knew Jimin way too well by now - he wouldn’t help you, you as a couple were far past this point by now and he never wanted you to go down this path anyway. 

“If you’ve got enough time to prepare your shot that slowly, hand it over. Because I need it now, you know that once I’m on turkey, I won’t be able to do it myself. GIVE IT TO ME, NOW!” You try to rip the improvised belt out of his hand, but Jimin just pushes you away with his foot as he rams the needle into his veins. 

A few seconds later, his eyes are already closing while a soft smile appears on his lips.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” you mutter to yourself before pulling the needle out of his arm and preparing your own shot of happiness. You didn’t even bother to clean the needle; if you didn’t get ill from sharing by now, it would probably never happen. 

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking while you tried to cook the substance on the dirty spoon - and it got even worse by the time you were trying to fill the needle. You nearly dropped everything while searching for a vein that was good enough, trying not to shoot into the scar tissues. After a few misplaced shots, you finally reached a vein that was good enough for your liking - and that’s when you shot the liquid into your system. Within seconds, you got beamed into a whole other universe while falling asleep on Jimin’s slowly rising chest.

01 x FIRST LOVE

Your life is boring. Not interesting at all. You’ve spent your entire childhood in this Christian boarding school ever since you were 6. Now that you were finally out of that, your parents decided to send you to a Christian college, and to be honest: it really fucking sucks. Besides your packed lessons (that your parents chose for you), you had to take religion classes every day and visit the college church every Sunday. 

“Y/N, c’mon, we’re about to be late to Biology!”

Yeah, well. Your classmates suck too. You’ve never, ever in your entire life, seen someone coming late to class, it’s always been you. Y/N Y/L/N. It could’ve been worse, you knew that. Because of this one weird guy in front of you… yeah, his name is Thaddeus. As in Thaddäus out of the twelve disciples, chosen by Jesus Christ.

After lunch - strictly vegetarian of course - and without any motivation left in you, you strolled down the hallway to the last class of today. You unbutton the first two buttons of your white blouse, leaving enough for the imagination, anything inappropriate was covered by the striped tie hanging wearily around your neck. Whoever thought that uniforms would do any good: thank you, this is a fucking cult.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you please place your feet back on the holy ground instead of the table? Or do you want to clean the classroom afterward?” You huff in annoyance, stamping your feet on the ground so the dirt falls off your Dr. Martens. The act of rebelliousness was overshadowed by the door swinging open rather loudly. You look up, staring at the stranger’s face. None of your classmates had the guts to come in late, but there were no rumors going around about a new student, and rumors spread fast around here. The guy that came in keeps a cold gaze towards your teacher. He looks just the slightest bit taller than you, with high heels you’d be the same height. He looks good, soft facial features but thick thighs and even a thicker ass, phenomenal. As if God had sent you a personal angel.

“My lovely students, this is Park Jimin. His parents moved here from Seoul, please don’t be rude to him and accept him in our class! I bet he’d be glad to get to know every single one of you. Park Jimin, why don’t you tell the class more about yourself?” 

Park Jimin, as the teacher just told them, didn't seem to be very affected by anything. He studies every single face, which gives you the opportunity to study his. A mop of bleached hair, narrowed eyebrows, and brown eyes that had the same annoyed look as yours did. His plump lips were pressed into a line, probably hiding a rude commentary to his introduction. 

“It’s Jimin. And I don’t see the point in introducing myself, wouldn’t want to make friends anyway.” His deep voice didn’t surprise you at all, while he begins walking towards the only empty chair – which of course led to be the one next to you. You fought for this place for about two years, you would never share it. Not with him, not with anyone. “I want to sit alone,” you spit. “And I don’t care.” 

“Alright, the seat next to Ms. Y/L/N is empty as you already saw. Now, tell us about your hobbies, your favorite book, don’t be shy!” Your teacher still tries to make him talk, but Jimin just huffs in annoyance. “No hobbies, I don’t read, just look at the pictures, and for that, I prefer the dirty ones, you know?” 

“Oh, okay, well… Anyways, we’re going to start with our next topic which will be DNA and genetics. I’ll show you a little short film and you have to take some notes so we can discuss it later on. Have fun with our little friend Geni!” 

With that, the teacher started some stupid clip of an alien called Geni that wants to teach genetics while being funny. Didn’t work out that well. 

“Hey, is she always like that? She seems to be a bit sick in the head.” Jimin’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and you were surprised that he decided to talk to you. You shrug your shoulders while muttering a quick “dunno”, feeling his eyes burning on your body as he was obviously checking you out. You raised an eyebrow as you keep staring at him. “Is there something interesting to see? You should focus on Geni, our little friend, not my unbuttoned blouse.” With that, you continued studying his face, his jawline was very strong in contrast to his hollowed cheeks. His eyes seem to be tired because they’ve always been kind of closed while his gaze is starring somewhere else. 

Just in the moment, he was about to open his mouth, the teacher screams, “Well that was fun! Never been so amused while learning important facts! Ha, Geni is a genius. I hoped you wrote down anything important so we can discuss them in the next lesson. Have a nice night evening and I hope everyone will be there to cheer on our hockey team, they have their first official match today!” 

Soon, the classroom is empty, and everyone is inside their dorms. You changed into something comfier before sitting down on your desk as you start to paint with your new oil colors. 

“Wow, damn. This is sick! Looks like some kind of a trip. Do you draw often? I mean, of course you do, it looks so fucking good!” You got so terrified that you nearly fell out of your chair, then you realized it was Jimin standing right next to you, his eyes on the piece of paper in front of you.

“Ehm, hi Jimin? Nice to see you, I guess, but this is my room?” 

“Hi, cool room. I like your style, fits mine”, he points to your pair of sweats while opening and unbuttoning his shirt. Then he sits down on the bed which hasn’t had an owner. Yet. 

“Anyways, this college sucks. I mean, it really bloody sucks. Teachers and students. Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, but you know how it is. Everyone seems to be manipulated by God, it’s really scary. Well, I live here now, but I gotta go. See you later, alligator.” 

He was soon gone and you were more than confused. You are a girl, living in a dorm, not knowing there was any chance to have a boy as a roommate. Of course, sometimes boyfriend and girlfriend were able to share a room in a regular college, but most of the time, it was strictly separated. Shrugging the thought off, you prepared your stuff for a quick shower, still thinking about Park Jimin and the impact he’s going to have on your life. 

The next morning already starts with a surprise, it seems like Park Jimin hasn’t been in there the entire night. His suitcase and most of his clothes are still spread across his bed. This boy was such a mystery. 

Not even an hour later, you find yourself in the first class of the day, not listening to what the teacher said, drawing in your notebook once again. “Do you always draw that stuff? I mean, yesterday, today, literally all the time. Not that it bothers me, I really like it. But I wanna know what’s in your head", a deep voice says right next to your ears, causing you to jump the slightest bit. You were so pissed about Jimin’s sudden presence that you couldn’t even answer his question. 

“Oh c’mon, don’t act like you’re listening to that bullshit this nun is talking about. And since you’re a student here, you should be drawing churches or the holy ghost or I don’t even know. But for sure not that,” he points to the burning people you drew, burning in purgatory and your cheeks got instant red. 

“Where were you last night? When I woke up I found your suitcase on your bed, just like you left it yesterday. Listen, those professors are so fucking strict, I don’t want to lose this place, okay? And one of their simplest punishments is scrubbing the church floor – which I don’t want to do either because there will be 20 Jesus figures watching you. And..” 

“Y/L/N, Park! This lesson is more precious than your conversation, seems like I have to inform both of your parents. Detention, both of you!” Your disgustingly annoying teacher interrupts you roughly. 

After 4 more hours of maths and religion, you practically run into your room, Jimin right behind you. “Y/N, why aren’t you talking to me? Are you angry ‘cause of the detention? Listen, I’m kinda sorry, but it’ll be just two hours of sitting there, it could be worse. And why is the ugly rat calling our parents? Y/L/N are you even listening?” 

You feel Jimin's hand on your shoulder, but shrug it off. “Hm? Yeah, sure I am.” 

“You’re weird, but oh well. Are you hungry? Should we head out to Subway or McDonalds? We still have a bit of time left before detention starts and I’m starving.” 

You are looking up to him, confusion written all over your face. “Leaving? The only time you’re allowed to leave is between 3 and 7. Lunch is in the canteen, but the food is vegetarian.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen in shock. “Vegetarian? Seriously? Dude, this is torture! How are you even alive?” 

“Dunno. Never had meat, never wanted to, it’s dead animals. That’s disgusting. There are plants for a reason, y’know?” 

“Sick”, Jimin nods. “Hey, Y/N! Why can’t ants go to church? ‘Cause they’re insects. Insects! Understand?” he laughs so hard that he needed to sit down on his bed, holding his stomach. 

You, on the other hand, open the bible on your desk. “Haha, funny,” you mumble and begin to write down the daily phrases you needed to hand in the next day. 

“Have you ever drunk alcohol? Or smoked? Oh, you hesitated, you’re a literal virgin. In everything! We need to change that, but first: lunch!” You squirm, unsure about what to say; simply because he was right. But to you, this was normal. Sure, you've wished for a boyfriend and maybe even sex in the past, but you never felt like you were missing out on something.

He drags you by your tiny hands and almost runs into the dining hall. “What’s that smell?”, Jimin scrunches his nose, looking confused. 

“I don’t even know, it always smells like cabbage, but there’s never cabbage in the meals. You need to get the vegetable burger, but never the vegetable sausages. Everything with noodles or potatoes is fine, salad is okay but the soups are disgusting, got it? We can go to the city later on and find something better for you.” You both decided on getting the burger and while you directly dig into it, Jimin starts off by taking a bite of the fries, then scrunches his nose again and adds half a bottle of ketchup onto them. 

“I can show you around then, but there aren’t any cool stores to buy clothes, I usually order them once I’m home.” You managed to speak while chewing your last bite of burger. Jimin smiles.

“You’re pretty cool, angel. Never thought I could meet someone I’d like in here.” 

“Look at that, Y/N! They all look like puppets!” Jimin spins around to look around the city. “Seems like there’s only one store with one clothing line, that’s terrible.” Oh boy, he was so right. Each guy was wearing ripped skinny jeans with a Supreme BoGo-Sweater and Yeezys, while all of the girls were dressed in way too tight leggings and some kind of shirts and hoodies that exposed their belly buttons. But you just shrugged, looking down at your mom jeans and the way too big ‘YUNGBLUD’ shirt you wore underneath your leather jacket. You looked like one of those TikTok girls, but you couldn’t help it - you were an emo girl in middle school, some things never change. The only thing that changed was that you got some sort of style by now, not just wearing checkerboard pants and your favorite hoodie with black stars on it. 

“Told you, I usually order my stuff online.” Jimin looks at you, nodding. “You need something that makes you different, angel.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the nearest store with a holographic ‘Tattoo & Piercing Shop’-sign. 

“Uh, well, I do already have both, so no thanks. But if you want to get some…” You laughed, causing Jimin to smirk. 

“Where?” 

You just winked before pulling him into the shop. “You need to get your nose pierced, Jimin. I don’t care if you’ll get detention forever, but I bet it’d suit you,” you smile. 

“No-uh, I’m not getting anything before you either tell me what’s where on your body or you’re getting something else. I guess tongue would look great on you, but it hurts like a buttcheek on a stick”, he raises an eyebrow, thinking about the idea of a pierced nose and actually digging it. “You know what? Fuck it, I’m doing it.” 

Half an hour later you were already able to leave the studio, but Jimin was the only one that was freshly pierced. A black stud was now decorating his nose and you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Never thought I’d see you crying, Park.” 

He laughed, slightly punching your shoulder. “It didn’t hurt, but I guess my nose is just connected to my eyes, so…” 

“Yeah, of course, tell me whatever you want.” Jimin turned around, looking at you, smiling. “Hey, could we just make one last stop? I need to get something really important, doesn’t take too long.” You just nodded, why wouldn’t you? You have more than an hour left and the walk back to college wouldn’t take more than 20 minutes. “Sure.” 

You’ve been walking for another 15 minutes, until you got slightly confused, not knowing the area you’re in. “Jimin, where are we? What do you need to get here? We need to get home soon, y’know.” 

“Don’t piss yourself, little one, I’ll be quick.” You were about 5 meters away from a weird-looking guy, chewing gum and playing on his phone, but once he saw Jimin, he nods and they exchanged a strange handshake before heading in different directions. “That’s it?” you asked, not knowing what to think about this situation. 

Once you were at your dorm again, laying on your beds and listening to different kinds of music, Jimin stands up to get some see-through plastic bag out of the pockets of his denim jacket. You didn’t really get to see it, but watch his movements as he sat back down, opening the bag and pulling some kind of dried flower out of it. 

“Whoa, is that weed? Jimin, that’s illegal! You can’t do this, you’re going to die!”, You panicked, of course, you never came in contact with any kind of drug, not even alcohol. All you knew was that drugs destroy your body, you’ve seen ‘We Children of Bahnhof Zoo’ twice and who would ever want to take anything after watching this movie? Jimin ignored your comment, grinding the weed before rolling a blunt. “Wait, you’re not doing this in here! I don’t want to die with you! Besides that, it smells, you can’t keep that a secret”, you narrow your eyebrows, making him laugh and roll his eyes while lightning the dangerous stick before inhaling some of it. 

“Want some?”, he offers, but you shook your head hysterically, the smoke burning in your eyes. “Hm, guess I was wrong then,” Jimin mumbles most likely to himself. “Thought you were different than the others, but it seems like you’re just one of them. What a shame, I thought there could be more than that between us. But don’t worry, it’s not about you, it’s about the fucking system you were born in.” 

He stood up, going back onto his own bed, while you continue to stare at the wall. Just like the others, he said. He made fun of you. All you wanted was to be on the same level as him, wanted to be as cool as him. Different than the others here. God, you haven’t even held a normal cigarette, now he wants you to smoke a fucking blunt. Slowly, the risk of getting caught, doing something dangerous and the satisfied look on Jimin’s face caused you to change your mind. You couldn’t lay still, tingles running through your entire body, the smell of weed permanently in your nose, as you watched the soft clouds wander through the room. “For fuck’s sake, it can’t be that wrong, right? Give it to me.” 

It was completely different from what you thought it would be, you had always thought weed would loosen you up, sink into your brain cells to calm you down. The only thing you felt was a burning sensation in your lungs and throat, which lead you to coughing more than you ever did in your whole life. Groaning, you handed the blunt back to Jimin who had a knowing smirk on his lips. “Angel, you need to keep that in your lungs for a longer time, otherwise you won’t feel anything.” You nod, taking the glimstick back in between your fingers to take another hit. “Try to act as if you’d want to swallow the smoke before taking another hit”, Jimin tried to explain, switching back onto your bed to help you. 

Great, you thought, you were even too dumb to smoke a fucking blunt, but kept following his instructions. Swallowing the smoke, holding your breath, trying not to cough your soul out of her body. “Sick, isn’t it?”, Jimin asks, grinning widely. You, on the other hand, were kinda disappointed, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, it’s so chill, dude,” you mumble and let yourself fall back onto the sheets. Minutes later, you were fast asleep. 

Part 02 x BOY MEETS EVIL

The entire class was staring at you once you walked into the room. The teachers were talking behind your backs when they saw both of you walking through the corridors. “Jimin, they’re staring,” you mumbled anxiously, turning quite shy. “Of course they are, angel. You look so pretty today,” Jimin complimented you – or your outfit. He made you wear a bra that pushed your tits to a maximum, having you open only the first button of your blouse and to complement your long legs in the tiny skirt, you wore Dr. Martens boots instead of your Converse. You grew nervous, not knowing what the teachers would tell you, but you felt good right next to Jimin. He always looked good without effort, you simply wanted to look good too. Smiling, you nodded, head feeling slightly heavier than usual. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, what on earth did you do? Wearing your uniform like this is against god’s law! Jesus will be so disappointed in you, my dear.” Your teacher sent a quick prayer to god before letting you sit down. 

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you,” you muttered under your breath but made sure the nun would hear it while Jimin snorted, then laughed. You felt strong, almost at the same level Jimin was on. 

“Ms Y/L/N, you’re going to write the entire first book of Matthew, since you put such a shame on him. And pray to god, he sees all of us!”, the teacher almost screamed before returning to her lesson. “Shit, angel. You really battled this old slut. Religion against religion! That was so sick, we need to celebrate it later!”, Jimin showed you the tiny bag he held in his pants pockets. 

“Dude, not here, not now. We’re still in the classroom! And I need to write down this fucking book later on. The hoe wants to kill me, it’d usually take a week to finish that, I can’t do it in just one evening.” Groaning, you let your head fall on the table. “You go smoke, I’ll do my shit.” 

In your room, you directly started copying the text, smelling a familiar scent about 7 pages in. You sigh, but keep your eyes on the bible, your hand already hurting from holding the pen. Who even came across the idea of writing the bible? You laughed, believing more in Harry Potter than this shit of a fiction. 

“C’mon, stop this boring shit. Bible studies are over now, Jimin time starts now. If you don’t come laying down next to me, I’ll be sad.” Jimin pouts, making you laugh, which leads you to closing the books and walking towards his bed, letting him pull you right next to him. With that, you were smoking your second joint in as many days. 

You were currently repeating your freshly learned process of smoking until the room was completely filled with smoke. Your head was resting on Jimin’s lap, as you talked about conspiracy theories and religion. I mean, as far as a discussion between two stoned teenagers can go. It’s not serious at all because you couldn’t stop laughing the entire time while playing some 90s music in the background. 

“Uh, Jiminie, why are all these guys dressed up as monkeys?” you asked, staring at the screen in confusion. 

“Well, dunno. But this song is a bop, who doesn’t like the Bloodhound Gang? Oh, wait, play this! I loved it as a child!” he pointed to a different video, jumping off the bed excitedly. Seconds later, the intro of ‘Californication’ started, changing your vibe completely. You closed your eyes before screaming to the chorus while Jimin tried to beatbox the melody. Then, he pressed a quick peck onto your lips, before both of you broke out in laughter. ‘Barbie Girl’ started and you transformed into Barbie and Ken while dancing wildly to it. “Wait, I know another one!” Jimin pushes you back onto the bed before playing another song. 

All the people look at me like I’m a little girl, 

well do you ever think it’d be okay for me to step into this world? 

I know I may come off quiet, I may come off shy, but I feel like talking, dancing when I see this guy. 

All I know is that I’m happy when you’re dancing there. 

Jimin moves his body like it’s something he does on a daily basis, swinging his hips sinfully while his eyes were locked with yours. His lips move with the lyrics, playing with the hem of his shirt, letting it fall to the ground quickly and exposing his toned abs. His own hands were roaming his muscular chest, the music getting to it’s best. 

I’m a slave for you, I cannot hold it, I cannot control it, 

I’m a slave for you, I won’t deny it, I’m not trying to hide it. 

Baby, don’t you wanna dance up on me? 

He sits onto your lap, but all the laughter from a few moments ago was gone, this shit was dead serious and fucking hot. His hips move against yours, similar to a snake on the ground, while his lips keep singing the song into your ear. The song changes, but none of you care about ‘Toxic’ being played in the background, with this guy on your lap, you’d ignore everything going on around you. You were just a teen, your cunt screaming for attention. 

There’s no escape, I can’t wait, I need a hit, baby gimme it. You’re dangerous, I’m loving it. 

Too high, can’t come down, losing my head spinning ‘round and ‘round. Do you feel me now? 

You didn’t feel anything besides your juices forming a wet patch in your panties and your rising chest. Being stoned made you so loose that you didn’t give a single fuck and totally digging his show. Your hands roam his back onto his ass, while licking your lips and staring at Jimin’s toned chest one more time. Jimin, on the other hand, keeps on going with his show. 

With the taste of your lips I’m on a ride – you’re toxic, I’m slipping under. With the taste of your poison paradise – I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic? 

Then, you're sharing your first kiss with this edgy man, his stubble feeling rough against your soft skin, his lips are chapped and the exact opposite of yours. But the feeling of his dominant tongue entering your mouth and fighting with your own was so much better than you could have imagined. Jimin knows what he wants and that was you. He throws your smaller body back and climbs on top of you, his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair, while you swing one leg around his slim waist. Your teeth slam against each other’s but that was nothing that could tear you apart right now. His lips started to move down your neck, leaving some love bites and a wet trail on your collarbone, which made you groan out in unknown pleasure.

But suddenly, it felt like someone spilled cold water into your face, you were wide awake now. You snap back to reality and realize that Britney’s voice in the background was nothing more than embarrassing. “Uh, Jimin, sorry, but this is weird.” You shove him back onto his own bed, while accidentally touching his hard on. “Fuck, Y/N, what are you doing? Just let it happen, we’re both horny and goddamn high. Why do you want to end this right now?” 

But it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t know you were a virgin. And he couldn’t know that anything sexual wasn’t a part of your life until now - you were simply ashamed.

You went straight to bed without talking to Jimin, not even trying to solve your problem. You even woke up an hour before him and ran off into the classroom without him knowing. You were the first one there, which gave you more than enough time to think about yesterday. But Jimin never came to class, the seat next to you was empty again, but this time you didn't enjoy it. Everything was like before, when there was no weird but attractive boy in your life. The only thing that has been changed were your thoughts, running back to last night, back to his hands roaming your body and soon enough, you were squirming in your seat, groaning in frustration. You couldn’t help but start drawing Jimin, his messy hair, wide grin, and red, sad eyes. 

You knew it was right to end what happened, it was just the weed that made you kiss him. You shouldn’t have smoked in the first place; like your parents always told you. But you had to admit that the kiss turned you on, even thinking about it now made you wet again. 

“Y/L/N, I’m talking to you, don’t you listen?” the weak voice of your teacher drags you out of your daydream, while you were trying to find out what they were talking about. “I wanted to know which disorders of the synapsis exist?” 

“The synapsis can be damaged by, among other things, strokes or Lyme disease. But you can also lose synapses by age or health differences,” you roll your eyes, sinking back into your fantasies. 

After lunch, you went straight back into your room, where Jimin was comfortably lying on his back, surrounded by smoke. He, of course, had your entire attention while you placed your bag down and loosened the tie around your neck. He’s just laying there, eyes closed and listening to music, yet looking like a Greek god. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and you could finally concentrate on the tattoos around his chest, which was completely hairless. Your feet dragged you to his nightstand, where the rest of his joint was laying in an ashtray. Without looking at him, you took it and inhaled a few times before taking the ashtray to your desk, the joint still between your lips.  “You could’ve asked instead of stealing my weed, y’know? But I guess it’s how it is, you take what you want before realizing you don’t really need it, huh?”, his groggy voice caused you to shriek, yet send tingles through your entire body. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, if I knew you were awake, I wouldn’t have taken it. Well, I need to do my homework anyways.” 

“Mh, sure.” 

The THC starts to work its way into your brain so that you needed to repeat every other sentence before giving in and laying down onto your bed, listening to Kodaline with your headphones. 

Your gaze wanders automatically over to Jimin, listening to the lyrics and comparing them to your own life so far. He had changed you the past few days. You smoked weed. You made out with a guy. The thing is, you didn’t mind it at all. It was different than the world you were born into, different than the secret kisses you shared with some of your friends so far. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice Jimin's gaze. Your heart cramps as you see his sad expression and the frown he is wearing. You didn’t want to see him suffering, wanted him to be happy. The music touches your insides, the bottom of your heart, and suddenly,  you were able to feel anything. Closing your eyes, you allow to let your mind sink deeper into the music and away from Jimin. 

“Y/N, don’t act like you’re sleeping now. I’m not that stupid, if you don’t want to talk, then leave it. But don’t ignore me.” You haven't noticed that Jimin was now sitting next to you, but you had so many questions to ask that you needed to talk to him. Sighing, you sat up and started to chew on your chapped bottom lip, biting onto the dead skin and pulling it off. You didn’t want to start talking, but also didn’t want to give him another reason to be mad. 

“’m sorry, Jiminie,” you mumbled, not daring to look up at him. He just looks down at you, confused but grinning. “We nearly fucked and all you’ve gotta say is that you’re sorry? You’re so brave, angel.” You roll your eyes in annoyance and stand up, walking to your desk, simply trying to get more distance in between you. Jimin just groans, holding your wrists and pulling you back into his chest. “No, Y/N. We really need to talk. Not even a junkie like me could forget about this”, he looks at you with his big brown eyes and you furrowed your eyebrows. What did he say? Junkie? All he does is smoke weed, just like most teens would. “Jimin..” He just shakes his head at you. 

“I’m talking. You sit down so I can start. You don’t really know how fucked up I am, angel. Why I landed here. Y’know, in the past, I drank a lot, but I always hated the aftermath. I thought weed would be the best option. Well, I got kicked out of high school ‘cause I was always stoned, never came to school and didn’t do anything. Well and because I fucked one of the teachers, but never mind that. I tried to experience everything, especially with my sexuality. I had lots of meetings with my clique where we all just fucked. Girls, boys, girls, girls, boys, boys. Name it, I had it. Y’know, sex with guys… It’s just so different and I preferred it over girls, but since I saw you, it seemed to change again.” 

“Anyways, my mom found out what I was doing, so she sent me into some kind of drug cleanse camp ‘because she wanted me to get off the weed. In the camp, I met this guy which had lots of pills and ‘cause we couldn’t smoke, we took those instead. We swallowed one trip after another and when I came home, I never stopped. Of course, I had to tell my friends about it and soon we started to take whatever pills.  One day, we didn’t get the effect we wanted to, so one of us brought cocaine and crack. I took coke too often, my nose never stopped bleeding and I had lots of problems breathing because it was completely crusty. I never dared take crack tho, I knew how the junkies looked like and I didn’t want to end up like them.” 

“When my best friend’s grandma came into the hospital ‘cause of cancer, she got lots of morphine and fentanyl plasters to help her pain. Well, he stole them. We were one step closer to our end. I took coke to party and fentanyl to calm down afterward. Namjoon, my best friend, he was almost like a brother, then brought H to us. He smoked it through a Dr. Pepper can, of course, we knew what he was doing. Just a few days later, I found him dead because some fucking idiot sold him dirty H. Ever since I stopped doing most drugs except for weed.” 

His gaze finally met yours and you could tell he was afraid to see your reaction. You couldn’t help but hug him, letting some of your tears break free and give him the warmth he had probably missed forever. But now you knew what you wanted, him, his life. To experience exactly what he had experienced. 

You haven’t said anything the past few minutes, so you had to clear your throat before starting to talk. “Jimin, I… I don’t know what to say or how to react. I mean, it’s great you didn’t do hard drugs, what happened to your friend... It would’ve broken anyone. You stayed strong, that’s what counts. I guess nothing bad can happen when you’re just smoking weed. Besides that, I’m with you now and you know, I’m sorry. I mean, I enjoyed this kissing situation, but it was one of my first times kissing a guy. I am not experienced. My parents always taught me it’s a sin to do anything like this before marriage. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I just didn’t know how to react, okay? Maybe we could just take things slow, yea?” You rubbed circles on his back, trying to calm both of you down. 

“Sure, angel, it’s your decision, I’m just glad you accept me the way I am. I just acted like this ‘cause I thought you’d like it too. I mean, you obviously did, but I guess next time I’ll ask before just attacking you, I’m not the devil, y’know?” Jimin chuckles and to you, it sounded like heaven. He doesn’t usually laugh, besides his usual cocky smirk, and it really made you happy to be the one that could cheer him up. “Am I even allowed to say the d-word in here?” 

“Dunno, but you’ve had sex with boys, you’ll end up in hell anyway. By the way, were you a top or bottom?”, you laughed, but still curious about the man in front of you and all the secrets he still had to share with you. 

“Ouch, angel, that hurt. Would you really consider me being a bottom? But it would be a shame to waste the half-smoked joint, would you please finish it with me, my lady?” How could anyone ever say no to this beautiful man? You shake your head, laughing before grabbing the glimstick between your lips. You decided to stay in bed the entire day, smoking and kissing here and there, being lost into each other and the stories both of you had to tell until you fell asleep curled into each other. 

The next weeks went by much quicker than anyone would’ve thought, exams came and went by, there weren’t lots of lessons Jimin and you spent clean, but your pocket money couldn’t buy you as much weed as you soon needed, which brought you to different kinds of medicine to keep you high enough. This way, you took antidepressants to get rid of your lows.

The time came where you were already taking pills for breakfast, just to ‘survive boring lessons’, to get through the morning before smoking your first joint for lunch. Jimin and you were never arguing, just laying in bed, making out and whispering sweet words to each other. You haven’t had sex yet, you just weren't ready for it and Jimin accepted it. He was just a generous boyfriend, taking care of his angel. You knew you loved him, but sometimes your mind wanders off to his past, high thoughts running through your head. 

Jimin kissing other guys, while you were alone in your room. 

Jimin fucking other girls, because you weren't ready for him. 

Jimin cumming into other guys and girls, because you couldn’t fulfill his needs. 

Of course, you knew you weren’t in a serious relationship so far, Jimin always said those don’t really exist between stoners, but you didn’t want other people to fuck the guy you were currently hooking up with. You were never the jealous type, but Jimin was supposed to be yours. In his opinion, he could do whatever he wants with other boys and girls, but as soon as you even dared to look at some boy in class, he would get angry and stop talking to you for the rest of the day, leaving you behind in your shared room. Especially those days where the meds weren’t enough to share, you were just angry at each other but would end up in bed, kissing and apologizing in between.

Those days, you liked to say that you were independent. Today, you can only laugh about this tragedy that was happening, because all you felt wasn’t real. You were just in love with the drugs he gave you. 

But what do people always say? You learn through experience. And sometimes you need to fall, face down on the ground to realize that.

Part 03 x EPIPHANY

“Yes, mum, I’m fine, but I really can’t come home these holidays. What? Oh, yeah, I need to learn so much, exams are coming up and I want to pass this year. No, I don’t miss any lessons, studying just became a bit harder. Yes, I’m learning a lot with Jimin, he’s really good at Maths and Physics, he can help me a lot. Yes, I’ll tell him, mum. Love you too.” 

You hated lying to your mother, but what else were you supposed to say? “Hi mum, I can’t come home ‘cause I’m kinda addicted to pills and you’d kick me out if you knew”? Nah, that wasn’t an option. So you decided to head wherever Jimin went, tagging along, spending some extra time with him.  

“I don’t like that, Jimin. I hate lying to her”, you roll your eyes at the black phone screen, then looking over to your so-called boyfriend. “You needed to, babe. Now c’mon, I’ll help you forget your mother”, Jimin pulls his angel onto his lap, kissing you just like he knew you like it. Once you started to have sex, you solved every little argument with a quick fuck. Not enough weed? Sex. One of you looked at a different guy/girl? Oral. You, not being able to go home because you were high all the time? Making out and fucking again. 

And you could finally understand what Jimin meant when he was saying that nothing compares to the feeling of feeling so close to someone, but you always thought that was just the side effect of all the drugs you took. You were currently lying under Jimin, feeling as his orgasm overcomes him, but not feeling anything yourself. Your thoughts were wandering to your family and friends at home and not seeing them for the next few months, missing them already. And well, thinking about that while being fucked is nothing that turns you on. Jimin rolls off of you, building another blunt, still out of breath. 

“But what if she gets why I’m not coming home? I’ve never just stayed here, always went home. She’s not that stupid, Minie. Shit, she’ll know. She’ll take me off college.” 

“Fuck, angel, shut up, will you? Here, take another hit, you know, everything gets better after that”, he hands you the already lit blunt, and damn, he was right. 

“Fuck, Hoseok, what’s up, dude?” Jimin runs up to the tall guy, pressing his lips on top of his. You were too high to care, too high to be angry, too high to feel anything. You just stare at Hoseok, his curly red hair, brown eyes and the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes had lost their glow, his skin was red and oily. 

“Hobi, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Angel, this is Hobi, my best friend.” And his best friend was very attractive, not gonna lie. “Hey.” You weren't interested in small-talk, nibbling on the skin around your blue nail polish while staring into the woods. You had arrived at the train station a few minutes ago and Hobi was the one that was supposed to pick you up. Instead, they met at some random field, surrounded by trees and a little sea, not knowing why. You were tired, hungry and somehow not in the mood for anyone besides Jimin. “Y/N, isn’t there some nickname for you? Y’know, I’d love to call you something special. Like a street name, Y/N doesn’t fit your new self. Like…Diamond.” You roll your eyes, huffing. “Do I look like a stripper? Use my real name or don’t talk to me at all.” 

Hobi laughs. “Damn, baby girl is feisty. Mhh, I kinda like that. Baby Girl.” Now it was Jimin's turn to step him, growling. “Don’t. Call. Her. Babygirl. She’s mine.” The red-haired boy stepped aside, hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, J. Y/N is it, Y/N it stays. Let the little pumpkin live a little. PUMPKIN IT IS!” He held his hand out to high five the young couple, but neither of you made a move, instead, rolling your eyes in annoyance.  "You're too affectionate, Hobi." 

"He is, but you used to call me marshmallow, Jimin. Remember? That one sucked too", you smirked.

You walk a few steps away, throwing some pills into your mouth and swallowing them dry, exploring the bit of nature you were able to see. “Throw those away, Pumpkin. I’ve got something better, here you go”, Hobi stopped beside you, holding out his hand. You gave him the most bored glare you had to offer but open your hand as well. He handed you a little paper, Cheshire from Alice in Wonderland printed on it. “Put it on your tongue, have fun on your adventure, it’s a pleasure meeting you, Pumpkin.” Hobi winks at you, while you look over at your boyfriend who had a knowing grin plastered on his face. Shrugging your shoulders, you do as you were told and kept on walking deeper into the woods, wanting to spend your trip alone. 

You don't know what was on that paper, but you felt better than you ever did. Laying on a neon green field, the flowers were so colorful you couldn’t stare at them without squinting your eyes. The sky was super bright, the sun smiled at you so beautifully that you couldn’t help but smiling back at it. You didn’t want to stand up, but you wanted to explore the entire forest, maybe even talking to some deer and bunnies. Oh, and you wanted to be with Jimin so bad. Where was he? Probably with Hobi, which you can't deny, was wonderful. Yeah, you liked him.

“Fuck, angel. Why are you laying on these branches? We’ve been searching for you the entire day, and why the fuck are you smiling at me?” Jimin seemed to be angry, but you didn’t care. You wanted to dance, swing around, listen to music. You couldn’t do that in the woods, but still had the urge 

“Babe, can we go clubbing? I really, really want to dance, but there’s no music here. I want to drink alcohol. Whoop, you’ve turned me into such a bad girl, you should spank me for that.” You laughed while twirling around your boyfriend, dancing like you were the happiest person on earth, which causes Jimin to generously smile before narrowing his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t just spank you, I should handcuff you to the bed and torture you, angel. But not now. And we can’t go clubbing in the woods, c’mon, let’s get you out of here. Hobi, what did you give to her?” You got bored of their conversation, so you kept walking, not caring about what Hoseok actually gave you. 

A couple of hours later, you were sitting in some house full of Jimin's and Hobi's friends. Whatever Hobi gave you, you felt nothing of it anymore, the effect was completely gone, and you were on your daily low. You decided to sit outside, curling up in front of some creek and watching the water flowing, not caring about the party, just waiting for Jimin to look after you. 

“Yo, Pumpkin, why don’t you come inside? The last few lines are gone and I have the last bag of the good stuff saved. I’m sure you don’t wanna spend time with Jiminie-pabo when you’re sober, c’mon in.” Hoseok pats your shoulder before running back inside, your sad body following him. As soon as you were inside, you immediately see Jimin, his freshly dyed peachy mop of hair bent over the table, a rolled Dollar in his nose, snorting whatever is on the table. Raising your eyebrow, you remember him telling you he’d only do weed and pills, him snorting coke was nothing you wanted to see. You grew nervous, not knowing what he’d be like on this high, so you kept watching the situation before sitting down next to one of his handsome friends, ending up with another rolled Dollar in your hand. 

Seconds later, your nose burnt, but the feeling went away soon enough to be replaced by a sudden high. You felt like the queen of the clouds, not being able to sit still. “What are we even doing here? Let’s go celebrate our lives!” Dragging a happy looking Jimin with you, everyone went to a house party in the neighborhood where one line followed another, you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to feel small again. 

“Jimin, I fucking love you. I’m so happy we came here.” You were dancing like a 70-year-old couple, holding each other tight, his head laying on top of yours. “Mh, love you too, angel. Want to feel ya, c’mon upstairs”, he mumbles into your ear while grabbing your hand and leading you into the first empty bedroom, closing the door. Of course you ended up fucking. You were on top of Jimin, riding him because he had no strength left to pound into you like usual, both of you coming to your highs before Jimin fell asleep underneath his angel. 

Suddenly, the walls started to move towards you, the room getting tinier. “Minie, can you see that? Minie? Jimin!” You panicked, probably the drugs, probably your paranoia, but Hoseok was soon next to your naked body. “Calm down, Pumpkin. Breathe. Jimin is just sleeping, let him be, don’t miss the party! C’mon!” He gave you another mouth full of pills which you swallowed without even asking. You then put the blanket over Jimin before getting dressed, suddenly feeling pumped again. Hobi was right, the party has just started, why not enjoy it then? 

So you left Jimin sleeping in this room, went downstairs and have been dancing ever since. You can’t even remember, with whom you danced, don’t even know their names. At first, you kept standing in the doorframe, watching the crowd but after what seemed like an eternity, some red-haired girl with lots of cute freckles came up to you, grabbing your hand and laid it onto her naked breasts. She was naked like most of them, her bright green eyes watching you carefully. You couldn’t stop staring at her beautiful body, her face and those bright pink lips. Neither of you used words, the only thing that the unknown girl did, was intertwining your hands and leading you into the group of people. 

Another girl went straight towards you, this time pale with brown locks, but still as beautiful as the other one. She kinda reminded you of how your religion teacher always described Eve. It felt like it was your destiny to go down on those girls, enjoying and praising the female body like the garden of Eden. The only problem you had, was which of those girls to kiss first, Eve or the fairy-like goddess? As if it took you too long, they took the situation in their hands and started to undress you first, while some other person took advantage of your lips. All you felt was stubble and rough hands, but you didn’t want to know more about this person. Getting lost in a wild tongue fight, saliva soon dribbling down your chin, your kiss came soon to an end. As you opened your eyes, the guy was nowhere to be seen. On the other hand, you didn’t know what he looked like, so you didn’t know whom to search. 

Your eyes scanned the crowded room, people getting off together, you're somewhat jealous about the open minded atmosphere. Your hands slowly trailed their way down your now naked stomach, two fingers lightly pressing down onto your clit, making you squirm and you can't help but let out a strangled moan. This situation was more than just a turn on, your pussy wet and drenched in Jimin's cum from before. 

Eve and the fairy pulled you out of your thoughts when you felt their lips roaming your naked body, which lead you into closing your eyes again, fully sinking into this moment. 

Plump lips sucking on your clit, tongues exploring your folds and fingertips brushing over your sensitive nipples send you to heaven. You grab Eve’s hair to hold her close to your drenched pussy, bucking your hips onto her needy tongue. The ginger girl came back with a bag full of pretty pictures printed on paper, putting one on her tongue before kissing you. You can felt it stick onto your tongue before ending the kiss and swallowing what was left in your mouth before smirking at her. 

Your kinky side set free, you quickly decided to push the fairy-like girl also on her knees and presses her face into your cunt as well. They played with each other’s tits, which caused you to come undone pretty quickly, releasing all over those pretty faces. Then, the two gorgeous women decided to lay down on the couch, eating each other out, fingering and playing with their wetness, before being overwhelmed by another orgasm. You felt like you took part in some kind of perverted porn while watching those girls lick of your wetness from each other’s faces. People around them clapped, whistled and soon you were the one on your knees, sucking different cocks and being cummed on. 

The point was, you couldn’t say you disliked it. You loved the feeling of being loved by so many people, loved being the one to give all the love you had in your body to all those people who made you feel those pretty things.

It was your first orgy - and Jimin wasn't even there to take part in it.

You didn’t really know what time it was when you woke up, neither did you know where you were. You just realized your naked body, shivering – surrounded by other naked ones. 

But what had woken you up was a loud scream. Someone was screaming Jimin's name. That’s when the memories hit you. Naked people, sweaty bodies. Pill after pill, line after line. Dicks in your mouth, pussies under your tongue. The women you thought were meant to be with you. Jimin’s name got louder in your ears, which lead you to stand up groggily. Looking around, you had to search your pile of clothes, but you couldn't find anything other than some extra-large shirt and your dirty panties. Cringing, you slid them on once you heard Hoseok also calling out for you. 

“Y/N, hurry the fuck up.” God, why was it your fault everyone was screaming Jimin's name? You didn’t do anything to him besides letting him sleep. Okay, maybe you kind of cheated on him, but he already said, there’s no real relationship between addicts. You just wished everyone would finally shut up, a big migraine starting to pound in your head.  

Hoseok wasn’t alone in Jimin's room, there were at least 7 other guys standing around him, but nobody dared to make a sound. “Fuck, I think he’s dead. We need to clean up and hurry to get out of here before the police come. Grab your stuff, Pumpkin. Why are you still standing here? Hurry!” Hoseok grabbed you by your arm, but you stepped back, looking at him with fear, your entire body shaking. Everyone around you started to run out, dressing themselves and pack their belongings, but you couldn’t move. 

What did Jimin do to you? Why did you ever leave school? It was his fault that you were in this situation and he couldn’t help you out of it because he chose to be knocked out. You kept looking at him for several minutes, Hobi was already downstairs again, when you decided to finally move. Jimin's porcelain skin was even paler, dark circles burnt into the skin under his eyes, but you could see an unsteady breath in his chest. You didn’t know what to do, neither what to feel, but right now, you didn’t feel a single amount of affection towards your so-called boyfriend. Everyone was gone by now, you were alone with a dying Jimin in front of you. Well, you – of course – could call an ambulance, but you would both get arrested as soon as Jimin woke up. You could also wait another few minutes, but Jimin could be dead by then. 

What did he really mean to you? Would you ever take the risk to go to jail just to save his life? 

Who had you become, that you had to choose whether to save a life or not? 

The past minutes you've been awake must be the longest you had been without any drugs for weeks. By now, you wouldn’t even need to take anything to change your mood, you simply didn’t feel anything. You were numb. It felt like everything was gone like Jimin never came into your life. You kept staring at him, it must have been several minutes by now, but you made your final decision. 

As you walked downstairs, you took a glance into every room, frowning and about to vomit the hell out of your body. It was literally yesterday when you thought this was your dream house filled with your best friends, now it was just a disgusting place with somebody dying upstairs that once meant the world to you. You quickly grabbed your phone, automatically scrolling to your mother’s name, but before you could press the green button, you heard someone whimper from above. 

Jimin was awake. 

All your previous thoughts were gone as soon as you heard his voice. You began to run like you've never run before, taking two steps at a time, but you didn’t go into the room just yet. You stood in front of the door, not quite sure what to do now. You could’ve been gone by now without him knowing, could’ve started a new life. 

But you decided to stay, to be there for him. 

Ready to fall for Jimin again, like you always did. Sighing, you walk straight into the smelly room. 

“Minie, you awake?” 

“Mh, yeah. I guess. Fuck, where’s everyone? My head kills me, I need some painkillers. Wait, did I fall asleep last night? During the party?” You nod your aching head slowly, still not really looking at him. “Yes. Happens, if you drink or smoke too much shit, Jimin. Well, I thought you were mostly clean, but I learned different last night. Wow, you’re so fucking cool, Minie. Why do you always have to lie to me? Why do I always have to find out things by myself? Jimin, fuck, answer me!” You run your fingers through your knotted hair, trying to detangle some of it. Jimin, on the other hand, seems to be in his coma-like state again, leaving you angrier than ever. 

“You know what? Fuck you, Jimin. Do whatever you want to do, but I’m going now. It was a mistake to be friends with you”, you let out a bitter laugh, “to even think I was in love with you. You’re dragging me down deeper and deeper every single day. Fuck, I even took part in an orgy last night! I’m heading back to school, maybe even to my parents. I’ll see you after the holidays if you’re not dead by then.” 

You thought your break out would open his eyes, let him realize how important this was to you, but he just looked at you, not answering. Shaking your head, you didn’t even say goodbye, just left the room, the house and lastly the city. Left Jimin. Left anything you had so far. 

Part 04 x I’M FINE

15 days and 6 hours have passed since you’ve last talked or seen each other. 

He didn’t call you, you didn’t write him. It’s almost like he never existed in your life. The bed next to yours was empty, your room just smells like your own cologne and you’ve had enough time to catch all missed school work. You even began running, standing up early and meditated every night. Your life went back to normal, boring and without any action in it. 

It was the 18th day, first day of school, when some guy with mint green hair that you’ve never seen before sits down next to you. In Jimin’s seat. “So,  I’ve heard there was something going on between Park and you? Anyways, I thought now that he was gone, you and me,” he points to the space between you, “could do something similar. I mean, you don’t have any friends since he’s been gone, nobody wants to be alone, right?” Well, I do, I’m fine on my own, was all you thought. You had died a thousand times without Jimin, but that’s over. You were over. 

“First of all, I don’t even know your name. And second, the thing between us was different, you wouldn’t understand. So, if you don’t mind”, you look back into your textbook, trying to keep up with whatever the teacher tries to explain. 

“Alright, well, I’m Yoongi, just in case you were wondering. Besides that, I have the same courses you do, you’d know if you paid attention,” he grins, showing off his perfectly white teeth. “And believe me, I know what it was like between you. High, swallowing pills and drunk off fake love. But you seem to be completely clean again, princess. So, why shouldn’t I grab the chance of going out with you? Believe me, Y/N. Try to get to know me.” 

His brown eyes almost beg you to agree, leaving you weak to the bones until you sigh in defeat. “Fine. What do you want to do and when?” 

To be honest, all you wanted to do is head back into the comfiness of your bed, crying over your restless mind and be left alone. But on the other hand, your mind is restless because of Jimin, maybe Yoongi could be a perfect opportunity to forget about him. “How about Saturday? We could go swimming or head to a nightclub? What do you think?” You nod, writing down your number and say your goodbye as the lesson ends before heading back into your room, letting your tired body fall backward onto the mattress. 

“Ouch”, you stand up again, wondering what hit your back, but scream in fear as somebody wraps their arms around your waist. You turn around quickly, eyes widening at what she saw there. Jimin was back. And he looked fucking miserable. 

His cheekbones were more prominent than ever, skin so pale like the wall behind him. His body stuck in too large clothes because he got so skinny. He was slim when you were together, but now he looked like a corpse. His eyes were kind of milky, they didn’t seem to see anything. But the smile he gave you was as bright as always. 

“Jimin? I mean… How? Why? What are you doing here?” You stutter, not quite sure whether to be happy or not. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but his breath smelled so rotten that you had to back up. “Hey, angel. I’m back.” He tried to kiss you, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t fall for him again. 

“Sorry, fuck, I can’t.” You run out of your room, away from Jimin, away from your feelings. 

You knew he was too weak to follow you, too high to care, so you stopped running rather quickly, not knowing where to go. Minutes later, you were standing in front of Yoongi’s door, after asking too many people how to get there and what his room number was. 

Apparently, everyone knew Yoongi, though. So why didn’t you?

You were about to raise your hand to knock on the door when said man suddenly stood behind you. “Missed me already?” He smirked, watching you with curiosity written on his lips. 

“What can I say? I was bored and thought why not hang out right now?” For the first time, you took your time to really check him out. His hair was longer than Jimin’s, a mop of mint green waves on top of his head. He wasn’t a giant, but he had broad shoulders and some cheeky freckles on top of his nose. His smile was polite, loving and his eyes sparkled in this deep brown that causes your heart to miss a beat. 

“Sure, you wanna go out to the river? I can show you the prettiest waterfall ever. I’m going there every day to get away from the people here.” Yoongi already started walking, so you ran a few steps to be next to him, letting him lead you to this unknown place. You didn’t care where you were going, as long as Jimin wasn’t there. 

You were surprised by the beauty of this place, not knowing that anything like that was hidden here. The rushing of the waterfall was so calming, the green of the grass and those colorful flowers made you smile. 

“Wow, since when do you know it and why haven’t I seen this place before? It’s so…”, you begin searching for the right words, but shrug, not knowing what to say. 

“Overwhelming?”, he tried to help you out. You just nodded, a smile still plastered on your bare face. “I’m running every day, always the same route through the fields. I’ve I had known about this… Wow”, you turn around, breathing in the fresh air. 

“That’s how I found it. I didn’t want to run this basic route, so I ran over the fields, always turning directions until I found this. I’m glad you like it”, he places one hand on your shoulders, squeezing it gently.

“Can we walk through it? I want to know what’s behind the waterfall.” Yoongi nods, now smiling as well. 

“There’s a cave behind it, I always go in there to read. C’mon.” He holds his hand out, waiting for you to grab it, and pulls you through the water directly into the waterfall. Seconds later, you were completely soaked, but standing in a beautiful cave, surrounded by nothing but the smell of salt and water. Your eyes search for Yoongi’s, hugging him tightly while mumbling a quiet “Thank you”. His eyes wander down to your lips and you know he is about to kiss you, but to your surprise you don’t mind at all, tilting your head upwards.

Yoongi tasted exactly like you always imagined a kiss to taste. It wasn’t like in those teenage love novels, he didn’t taste like strawberries and vanilla - luckily. He tasted like the ocean, like salt and a hint of fresh air. He tasted like summer – and a tiny bit like mint. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible, forgetting about Jimin and all those memories you shared. 

You just know that Yoongi is a better man. 

You open your mouth, creating space for your tongues to dance against each other while your lower bodies meet, the electricity of that touch causing both of you to let out tiny moans. It was weird to kiss without being high, to actually feel something, but again, you didn’t feel like you need them with Yoongi.

You press your eyes even more shut, not trying to have Jimin’s face in your thoughts, but you failed. His smile, his eyes, and even his smell was now everything you could think of. Gasping, you jump back, looking at Yoongi in shock. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”, you look down to your feet, guilt washing over your drenched self. You were truly sorry. Sitting down on one of the wet rocks, you pop your head down into your palms, watching Yoongi carefully, cringing over your own behavior.

“You don’t have to be, Y/N. Is It because of Park I mean, you broke up only a few weeks ago and…”, you didn’t even let him finish, you had to splurt out what was on your mind. 

“Jimin is back. He was laying in my bed, but he didn’t look like Minie anymore. He was so skinny, not a tiny bit of muscles on his body. He looks like he’s rotting alive, he literally smells. Then he was about to kiss me, but I didn’t want to, so I just ran away. Straight into your arms. Wow, I’m such a mess”, you sighed while running your shaky hands through your hair, “I mean, what is he thinking of me now? I’m sure he’ll kill me with a heroin needle once I’m sleeping.” You tried to make a joke but neither of you wanted to laugh right now.  Jumping up, you started to walk around, being splashed by a few water drops here and there. “I need to see what he’s doing. Maybe he’s about to kill himself!” You were about to go through the waterfall, but Yoongi holds you back, rubbing your arms to calm your breathing. 

“Hey, Y/N, calm down. He won’t do anything. If he’d truly feel that bad, he wouldn’t be back at college, right? But tell me, why did you even break up?” Yoongi’s warm eyes watch you carefully while you sit down again, ready to tell him your entire story. 

Once you were back in your room, clothes still wet from the waterfall, you found Jimin still laying on your bed. This time, he had your drawing in his hands. “You’ve got talent, angel.“ 

You stayed quiet. Jimin kept looking at you, raising a brow once he saw your wet outfit. “Where have you been? Showering with your clothes on?” He checked the time. “For about 4 hours? I waited for you, angel. I’ve got some new stuff to try.” He waves another bag around, filled with lots and lots of tiny silver packages.

By now, you’ve watched enough movies, you knew what was inside of them. Ripping the bag out of his hands, you watched the contents carefully. “What did you turn into, Jimin? You've gotten worse in these last months”, shaking your head in disappointment, you grab some fresh clothes before heading off to take a shower. Just as you reach out to open the door, a loud knock on it makes you jump. Yoongi walks in without waiting for you to even answer. 

“Hey, Y/N. I thought you’d want to take a shower as well, I mean, there’s seaweed on your clothes”, his wide grin makes you smile before disdainfully looking over to Jimin. “Park, you’re back”, Yoongi simply says. Jimin just cheers his joint in Yoongi’s direction, then watching you carefully. “You’re hanging out with him? Well, we’ll see what you’re getting from that, angel”, he makes it sound like a threat, but you decided to stay strong, you had to stay strong. Shrugging your shoulders, you head out with Yoongi once again. 

You showered next to each other, you in your favorite bathing suit, Yoongi in some surf shorts. He had quite a few tattoos around his chest and arms, but nothing similar to Jimin’s. “What do they mean?” you point to the artwork on his chest. It was an ox skull, a snake winding through its empty eyes surrounded by different nature symbols. You felt almost naked next to his inked skin, but he just told you that not each and every tattoo has to have a meaning. “I’m getting one tomorrow”, you blurt out before quickly stepping out of the meanwhile cold shower. 

Jimin just stayed in your room, watching you leave, but not caring to stand up - you'd come back anyways. You always did. 

He was thinking about anything that has happened to him in the past three weeks. 

Part 05 x THE TRUTH UNTOLD

Jimin woke up with a bright migraine and dry mouth, looking around for his favorite girl. 

Calling her name, he tried to get up but failed. 

Damn.

 His angel stands in front of the door, her hair was messy and she had dark bags under her eyes. She was alone. “Jimin, you awake?” her voice was calm, but he knew she was nervous. “Mh, yeah. Fuck, my head is about to explode. Where’s everyone? Wait, did I fall asleep during the party? Fuck.” His hands automatically hold his hurting head, trying to reduce the pain. 

“Well, that comes from swallowing all those pills. I thought you were clean and stopped doing hard drugs? Why are you lying to me? Jimin, answer me!” 

Why did she know all of this? What happened after he fell asleep? He tried to catch her reaction, but Jimin already knew she was pissed as fuck. 

“You know what, Jimin? I’m leaving, do whatever you want. It was a mistake meeting you. You’re destroying me. I took part in an orgy last night! I’m heading back, see you after the  holidays, if you don’t die by then!” 

With that, he just watched her go. He let her go. Let her leave his broken life. He kept lying in this bed, not caring about the loneliness. He was just about to drift away, still too many drugs in his blood system to let him actually feel anything. 

He stayed in this house the next few days, surrounded by all those people that made him the person he was. His routine kept the same: waking up, taking a trip, sitting on the couch, drink coffee, taking a trip, smoking a joint, Ritalin, Speed, sex, robbing people on the street, then sleep. 

He even tried crack once, meaning he couldn’t say he disliked something he hadn’t tried. 

“Park, where’s your princess? The night I spent with her was so fucking good, damn, you’re so lucky”, Liv lolls around the couch, swiping some blood off of her nose. “What do you mean?”, Jimin scans her emaciated body that looked similar to his. 

There wasn’t time to eat, they had to spend their money on other things, medicaments got more expensive the longer you had to take them. 

“She licked my pussy so good, but I think I don’t have to tell you about her tongue skills”, her mascara-smudged eyes winked in Jimin’s direction, while she pops herself onto Hoseok’s lap. “Hoe”, he hadn’t had any other thing to say, but calling her a hoe wasn’t even an insult. She sells her body for Heroin on a daily basis. Groaning, he stands up and motions her to follow him. “C’mon.” She laughed, but still following him into the bedroom, letting him fuck her with all the angriness left in his body. 

He tries not to watch while Liv was heating up a spoon with a lighter. A toxic smell was tingling in Jimin’s nose which causes him to give in and stare at her movements. He watches over her shoulder as she ties a scarf around her arm and prepares her shot. Then, she finally injected the needle into the back of her hand, pulls some of her blood in it before shooting the entire load into her fragile body. 

Her pupils turn into pins in a matter of seconds, a silent smile was placed on her chapped lips while she leaned back against his chest. Jimin’s head was on top of hers while realizing how jealous he was about her high. 

“Share.” 

Liv couldn’t hold her laughter back. “You sure, Pabo? You don’t want that. Sure, it’s nice. It makes you feel so free and on top of the world, but not for too long. Besides that, you know Heroin will kill you”, she rolls her eyes, “I don’t even have any left. Keep on taking your trips, some coke or crack, but nothing more. You have a life left, Jimin. Take it.” She glances at the floor, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re not as broken as we are. Don’t you remember your fucking best friend, Jimin? What has happened to Namjoon? I can’t understand how you’re still on this stuff after reliving his death over and over again. Joonie wouldn’t want that, y’know? But as soon as your angel left you, you’re all over it again. Hello? You’re snorting coke like your life depends on it. Your nose bleeds worse than mine. And look at you”, she points to his exposed body, “No single muscle left on you. I could count your rips.” 

But Jimin didn’t listen at all, he just stares at the aluminum foil and the white residue on it. “Head back to college, head back to your lessons and head fucking back to Y/N!” 

Y/N. Angel. Princess. 

“Y/N can suck my ass, Liv. And don’t think you know anything about her, just because you’ve had one night together.” By now, he couldn’t even understand why he wanted to fuck Liv so bad. Without waiting for her reaction, he grabbed the foil, pushing her off him and snorts the last bit of Heroin crumbs that were on it. It suddenly felt like little electroshocks went through his body. Excitement, joy, happiness. Then darkness. He blacked out and once he woke up, Liv was nowhere to be seen. 

He was still naked, laying on the dirty mattress covered in bleach spots. The house was empty, his mind still not clear and his stomach rumbling. He quickly puts his shorts back on before running to the bathroom, vomiting until nothing but sour water came out of his mouth. Jimin sits down in front of the toilet, waiting to regain some energy to stand up, pack his bags, and to head back to the university. 

Once he arrived, he felt so misplaced not wearing his uniform. His eyes wander around, looking for Y/N, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, he saw Yoongi, some guy he once hooked up with. Yoongi’s eyes lit up once he saw Jimin, but he hurried back inside. Jimin followed him, but when he found him again, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Yoongi and Y/N, talking and smiling at each other. 

The blood in his veins froze to ice while he quickly grabbed some pills to pop into his mouth before looking back at his ex-girl- and boyfriend. Yoongi turns his head, watching Jimin with a smirk, before placing his hand on Y/N’s lower back, guiding her somewhere Jimin couldn’t see them anymore. Groaning, he heads back into their room, being overwhelmed by his angel’s smell, falling directly onto her bed into a deep slumber. 

PART 06 x LOVE IS NOT OVER

“Tell me, do you know Jimin? It seemed like you looked pretty intimate, but he’s never talked about you. He could never know you from here, because he spent all his time with me.” 

You move your feet around in the water so that they create tiny waves, while you watch Yoongi carefully. The little lake in front of the waterfall was actually big enough to take a swim in there, but the bright sun in combination with the beautiful green meadow was too tempting to not lay down and sunbathe for a while. “I don’t really know Jimin. I thought I would’ve known him”, he stops talking, swallows hardly while you wait for him to continue.  

“We’re both from the same rural area, I kind of grew up with him but we would never consider each other friends. I don’t know how to describe it; do you remember when your mum made you be friends with someone because she was friends with their mother? That’s what our relationship was like as kids. We spent time together while our mothers ate cake, but we’ve never had the same interests. But when we were somewhere in between 13 and 15, we told our parents we would have a sleepover, but of course we went to our first official house party. Little Yoongi’s first contact with alcohol – you can’t imagine how bad I felt the next day”, he smiled a little, which made you smile as well, but his didn’t last. 

“We were deadass drunk, but because none of the people there were actually 21, all we had was cheap beer and wine mixed with juice, let me tell you, that shit’s disgusting! Because we were so drunk, we couldn’t sleep at home, so we slept at this dude’s house. We couldn’t even close our eyes for a second without thinking we had to vomit all over the place, so we talked about serious stuff – as serious as two drunk kids could talk – and somehow, we came upon the sex-topic. Both of us haven’t had any experience, never had an actual kiss but we also didn’t want to go out unprepared. This evening ended with us practicing our kissing skills on each other, we kind of made out, had our first non-self-made orgasms.” 

“We kept on doing that the entire next year until we had real sex. I was in love, for sure, but he had this weird group of friends, I guess you know them by now. Those junkies that Jimin seems to be a part of again. Back in the days he just smoked weed, but our ‘relationship’ got distant, he did anything to get more and more to smoke, one day I just wasn’t important enough for him. I was in his way because I wanted him to stop, but he broke my heart.” Yoongi’s voice got shaky, his breathing unsteady. He stayed quiet for a few minutes to collect himself while you laid your head against his shoulder, showing him that you were there. “I couldn’t stand being around him anymore, so I came here to study and I thought I’d never see him again. Then I saw him arrive a few months ago, you can’t imagine how I felt, Y/N. I thought he’d make a move on me again or he followed me to this place, but he only had eyes for you”, his voice broke, he sounded sad and dismissive. You were shocked about his sudden mood swings, but he smiled at you. “I can’t blame him, you’re beautiful, Peach. Too perfect for Jimin to ever be enough for him”, his hand caressed your cheek, while your eyes met. Soon enough, your lips met, tongues dancing against each other and minds finally not thinking about Jimin. You fall back into the soft grass and don’t even realize how soon the sun is going under and the moon is shining bright in the night sky. 

Once you headed back into your room, exhausted and pretty tired, you were glad to see that Jimin was gone. His bed was messy, his duffel bag on top of it. Hesitantly, you stepped in front of it, trying to peek inside without touching it. Some of his shirts were hanging out of it, underwear and socks were just stuffed into the side pockets, this bag was a mess – Jimin wouldn’t even realize if you peeked inside of it. And if he did, what would he do about it? Determined, you kneeled down in front of it, slowly making your way through the bag to find any hints. Your hands met some bags of weed and some pills, but no Heroin or Coke, nothing. 

“May I help you, angel?" Jimin’s raspy voice caused you to jump so badly that you hit your toe on the bed. "Never thought you’d be like those girls, but now you’re even searching through my bag.” Whelping, you turned around and tried to look as innocent as possible. “Mine, I… Oh, whatever”, you were tired of explaining, tired of being worried and you were fucking angry. The rage was back and you were about to spew out everything you hated about him, but you decided to stay still, sit down in front of your desk, and try to ignore him. 

“Sure”, he sat down on his bed and looked at you. His eyes were tiny and red, he was high again. The sight of him made you almost tear up, so you quickly turned your head to look away. 

How could someone destroy himself without even realizing? 

“How’s things with Yoongi?” His voice sounded resigned and casual, why was he like this? He didn’t even notice how hurt you actually were. “Couldn’t be better, I’m happy”, you mumbled while grabbing a pencil and starting to draw. 

“I’m glad he’s at least a good fuck, couldn’t leave my girl unsatisfied, y’know. Oh and I almost forgot: he’s clean. Must be totally your type, clean nerdy guy, huh? Didn’t you tell me you hated all of those people when we first met? Now you’re one of them, angel.” Your finger cramped around the pencil, pressing it onto the paper, causing wild lines to appear on it, similar to your thoughts. 

“I remember it like it was yesterday when I fucked him. When he lost his virginity to me. Back in the days, I thought he was totally into girls”, he laughed his beautiful laugh, almost tempting you to give in, wouldn’t his words hurt you so much, “until I had my dick deep down his ass and he realized how nice of a fuck I am.” 

“Jimin, why-“ 

“Did you fuck already? Do you know what kind of sick games he likes to play in bed? Well, I would’ve never thought that of him, luckily we had enough trust into each other to try out anything. I hope same goes out to you, you tend to really easily trust people, I mean you even took part in an orgy, I mean… Wow. You shouldn’t have difficulties with him then”, he examines your appraising. 

You quickly grab your headphones, trying to get lost in your favorite Spotify-Playlist. A few moments passed in silence, just you and your music, while your drawing was about to be completed. 

You jumped out of your chair as your felt Jimin’s lips on your neck, his hands trembling your chest. An involuntarily growl left your throat, while your stomach began to tingle. “Fuck, Park”, you turned around to him, grabbing his by his throat and pressing him against the nearest wall. “What’s your fucking problem?” 

“Not having you, that it my problem. Losing you to Yoongi is killing me.” 

You snort, interrupting him. “Your fucking Heroin-addiction is what really kills you, you fucking bastard!” 

“And letting you leave, that’s my biggest problem. I will forever regret letting you go because I know I’ll never find someone that loves me like you did. Nobody that…” 

You interrupted him. This time to press your lips against his. Losing your grip on his throat to grab a fistful of hair, tugging him closer. Your other hand roams his bony chest underneath his shirt, making him breathe in sharply. 

“Fuck”, his words gave you goosebumps, but a clapping noise behind you causes you to step apart. Yoongi was standing right behind you. 

“Yoongi, I…” 

“It’s alright, Y/N. I know how good Jimin’s acting skills are, they got even better since I last met him.” Then your somehow-boyfriend’s fist bash against the-guy-you-still-kinda-love’s jaw – which left you kind of overwhelmed with the entire situation. 

You did what your instincts told you, you hadn’t had enough time to think through it, so you tried to catch Yoongi’s next fist – which of course hit you directly in the stomach. Coughing, your legs gave in and you sunk into the ground. “Fuck, Yoongi…”, your chest heavily rising, you glanced up at the dudes. Both pairs of eyes were watching you in fear, both prettier than the other. Even Jimin’s matte, stump eyes would never lose their beauty. The only difference between them was their expressions. 

Your current boyfriend seemed to be shocked, somehow even angry. 

The guy you still have feelings for watched you in admiration, full of respect and awe – something you haven’t seen in a long time. 

“What the fuck, Y/N? You’re defending him? This son of a bitch broke you, remember? You can be glad to be out of the thing you two had!” 

“Don’t listen to him, angel. You know we’re meant for each other. You love me as much as I love you, I can really stop doing drugs, I would do it for you. Cold Turkey, from now on.” 

“Oh, really? I feel like I’ve heard that before. And where are you now, hm? Eyes like pins, veins filled with poison. Do you really want Y/N to live that life? You’re destroying her just like you’re destroying yourself. If you really love her, you’ll leave her.” 

You were still laying on the ground, listening to every spoken word. Trying to process what was happening, watching each of their faces in fear. You waited for Jimin to answer, tears starting to form in your eyes. “Why don’t we leave the decision to our angel? It is her choice whom to love, if she really wants to love a fucked up junkie, you can’t change that. C’mere, angel.” Jimin pats his thigh, smiling at you lovingly, making your heart melt. 

“Y/N, you know what’s best for you. A world with a future in it, maybe smoking weed here and there, but not being addicted to all the toxic stuff”, now Yoongi’s hand was ready for you to grab – and you had to make a decision. You shook her head at both of them, grabbing your jacket instead and heading out of the room without choosing one of the guys – you had to think and you had to be alone for it. 

Once you came back, the room was empty as always. Sighing, you fell onto the bed, trying to find a comfy position and listen to the howling wind while drifting into a dreamless sleep. 

“Oh, fuck, angel, keep on going”, a raspy voice next to you opens your eyes but you soon realize it was Jimin, laying on his bed, eyes closed and lips parted. His chest was heavily rising while there was a prominent bulge visible in his shorts. “You look so fucking hot, kneeling in front of my cock, c’mon, take it”, his hand wanders down to his erection while you couldn’t help but watch. Was he really having a wet dream about you? It was pointless to ignore that you were soaking wet by now. Your last time having an actual orgasm was back when you were still together. It was just normal for you to be horny as fuck. 

As soon as Jimin’s hand was wrapped around his cock, you lightly caressed your folds, collecting all your juices and rubbing them over your clit. A quiet moan escaped your lips which made your press your free hand over your mouth. You were still watching him, copying his movements, panting louder than before. 

“Fuck, repeat that, angel. Fuck, yes.” Gasping, Jimin cums all over his own hand and his abs, while you couldn’t hold it back anymore and coming undone as well. You were still watching him, trying to catch your breath, but he was still asleep, even smiling a bit now. But you knew your night was over, so you stood up and decided to have a shower to really wake up and maybe get a free mind out of it. 

Even days later, you still couldn’t decide between Jimin and Yoongi, you even tried to avoid both of them. You saw Yoongi during your classes but didn’t respond to his longing glances. Jimin’s and your room kept quiet until midnight when Jimin decided to come home to sleep. Both were trying to catch your attention with loving gestures, you got flowers from Yoongi and each morning a lovely joint from Jimin. 

You knew you couldn’t avoid your decision much longer – neither to hurt your lovers nor hurt yourself. It strained your nerves to stand between two fronts. Sure, you liked Yoongi, he was nice and thoughtful, always listened to your problems and distracted you from Jimin, but he was kind of boring. Jimin on the other hand was the spirit that burnt your insides. You loved him and you knew that, but he was a dangerous person. But what was it you were looking for? Harmony and a daily routine or rather the charm of danger? Something that kept you alive but didn’t excite you or something that gave your life sense, but could end it decades earlier? 

You saw Jimin and Yoongi wherever you went, everyone in the smoker’s corner looked like Minie, your gym class was full of boys like Yoongi, wearing tight shirts that show off their biceps. But none of them were really like those two. And you were still lonely like you were before. But this time, you didn’t enjoy it at all. 

Days came and went by. Days where you wanted to be held, wanted affection but didn’t want to cheat on either of them. When you wanted to cuddle Yoongi, you would want to kiss Jimin. When you wanted to kiss Yoongi, you would want to make out with Jimin. When you wanted to make out with Yoongi, you wanted Jimin to fuck you. 

You compared your possibilities with them, a future would be easier with Yoongi, you could finish college and move in with him, marry him and have his children. You wouldn’t have this opportunity with Jimin, you didn’t even know if he’d be still alive after college. You wouldn’t be able to afford a house if he keeps taking drugs. 

Of course, you thought about making Jimin take part in a drug withdrawal. Cold Turkey. No medicine, just pure pain. He could do that for you. For your future. He promised you. He loved you. Yoongi wouldn’t take any risk for you, his life was perfect. He didn’t need anything to hold on to survive. Jimin did, in fact, need you. You were his anchor, his lifesaver. He needed you. And so you decided against Yoongi, for Jimin, for your future, for your love. 

Yoongi, 

I can’t talk to you face to face, that’s why I’m writing this letter for which you’re maybe going to hate me. But I’m promising you, I won’t let you suffer. I know, you might be right. I might regret my decision, but I had to make it. I think we both knew it from the beginning. All three of us knew. I’m sorry. It’s breaking my heart to tell you that I chose Minie. Can I even call it a decision if both ways break my heart? 

Yoongi, I’ve never had so much fun before, you made the last weeks such a pleasure for me. I think you brought up feelings I’ve never felt. Maybe even love. But nevertheless, Jimin needs me. I know you’ll find someone else quickly, you’re such an amazing person. Your future girl won’t destroy you like I would’ve, you’ll have the perfect future together which I may not even have. You’ll be happy, Yoongi. 

Don’t cry after me, don’t be sad, you’ve earned someone better. Don’t think I didn’t love you, somewhere deep

inside me is a spot just for you. But it’s too small to change anything. 

Do something with your life. For me. For yourself.   

You didn’t even give Yoongi the letter yourself. You were way too scared of him changing your mind. But after you knew he received it, he never talked to you again. You waited on top of her bed, drawing and listening to music until the door opened. You got quite anxious while Jimin walked into the room and let himself fall into his own bed, not giving you any attention. 

“Hey.” 

You didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t mind to answer anyways. 

“How are you? Don’t you wanna come back to our classes?” Damn, what kind of bullshit were you actually talking about? “Okay, mom.” Stubborn and dismissive like always. “Call me mom once again and I won’t be able to hold myself back, baby”, you tried to loosen up the mood, but he didn’t even laugh. 

“Okay, sorry”, then he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving you alone and you were already close to giving him up again. 

One night, Jimin came back quite early and didn’t seem to be as high as he used to be. Without hesitating, you tried to take her chance, slipping under his blanket and hugged his body. “I chose you, you know that, right?“ He didn’t look at you, but didn’t remove your arms either. “Jimin, I told Yoongi that I love you. I want to be there for you, want to be your anchor.” Jimin just snorts. 

“Can you just shut up, Y/L/N? I’m so tired of your crying. I know you chose me, but you did because you felt guilty. Do you understand that I don’t need your help? God, just go to Yoongi and live the life you want, I don’t even have a future, I’m letting myself live for another year then I’m gonna die anyway.” You were about to say something, but he just shakes his head,

“Just let it be, angel. I’m fine, really.” 

Their door opened and you automatically skid, turning your head to the new arrival in the door frame. You thought it was Yoongi but you couldn’t remember that face at all. 

“Y/N, that’s Taehyung, but everyone calls him Tae. Hey, Babe”, he stands up and walks over to Tae, kissing him in front of you. 

You were either going to cry or to vomit, but smiled for them. “I’m glad you found someone and completed our relationship. Good luck you two”, you clap Jimin’s shoulder before heading out, leaving the campus and walking straight into some corner of the city you came to every single day a few weeks ago. You bought some of the pills you used to take and swallow a few of them on your way home. 

Your eyes were already closing as you come back into your room, so you just let yourself fall under your blankets without even taking your pants off. You didn’t care about them. But what you actually did care about were those noises coming from Jimin’s bed. You turn your head once again, just to see Jimin and Taehyung. Tae on top of him, his tattooed arms next to Jimin’s head, a thin layer of sweat on both of their foreheads. “Fuck, Jimin”, Taehyung moans. Jimin didn’t respond, his mouth hung open and his eyes were closed. They didn’t even realize they weren’t alone anymore. You, on the other hand, decided not to disturb them, swallowing two more pills before dozing off into a deep sleep. 

PART 07 x SO FAR AWAY

“Fuck, babe, keep on going”, muscular arms were wrapped around your waist while you move your hips in a steady rhythm. Deep growls and moans leave the mouth underneath yours, sweat dripping from your forehead on his chest while his nails were dragging lines across your body. 

Soon enough you collapsed on top of him while gasping for air. You laid your head on his muscular chest, long fingers were brushing through your hair. Moments later, you were under the shower to wash off the typical sex smell, just to head back to class, to sit next to Jimin, to ignore him and to keep on flirting with his affairs best friend. You really gave up on Jimin, were living your own life and share your bed with Jeongguk. He was currently winking in your direction while biting his lip to hide a smile. Laughing, you shake your head and flip him off, making Jimin groan in annoyance. 

“Jealous?”, you smile. “Dream on, I’ve got the hotter friend.” 

Even though you weren’t really a couple, Jeongguk and you spent most of your free time together. You couldn’t help it, once he opened his mouth you were lost in his accent. Jeongguk and Taehyung were from Busan, their moms sent them to this college because they had a similar past to Jimin's. Even if you weren't spending time with him, you were ongoing high. 

Jeongguk had the best connections to get the best drugs in here, Dope, Weed and even Shore. You were easily happy with trips and weed, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind Tae's stash of opiates. He changed, resembling a corpse more and more each day. Pale, skinny and no expression left in his eyes. You were slowly starting to regret breaking up with Yoongi for him because the only feeling you had left for Jimin was hate. 

Back in your room you saw Jimin and Taehyung with a rolled banknote in their hands and blood dripping noses. You just snort while sitting down at your desk to study, trying to get done with everything as fast as possible to get out of this hell, to move away from the person that destroyed you. Away from Park Jimin.

“C’mon, don’t act that dumb! It’s just maths, how can you not understand anything from that? I even understand that stoned!” Taehyung shakes his head while fanning the math book in front of your face. Jeongguk sits next to him and rolls his eyes. “Not everyone can be a math pro like you, brother. Be patient with my girl or I’m telling your mom that you’re on H again”, Jeongguk smiles at his friend whose face got directly softer.

 “Sorry, Kookie. Okay, again. What haven’t you understood so far, Y/N? Do you know how to get to the scalar product?” You nod while thinking about this awkward situation. Tae was trying to help you with your math problem, while his best friend was sitting next to you, sometimes stealing a kiss from you. Jeongguk made you ask Taehyung to tutor you, just to spend more time with him and to get to know him better. Even though you'd prefer Jeongguk teaching you, Taehyung wasn’t too bad. If he wouldn’t be with Jimin, you could maybe even like him.

“Good luck, Y/N. It’s gonna be the last exam, after that we’re getting wasted!” 

4 ½ hours later you were sitting at the lakeside, beer in your hands and smiles on your faces. “Fuck, we made it”, Jeongguk laughs while taking a deep sip. “Not yet, babe. Exams, yes. Results, no. But for now, that’s it, you’re right”, he kissed your cheek while emptying his bottle. “Thank you too, Tae. I thought I had to hate you ‘cause of Jimin, but you really helped me. If I didn’t have Jeongguk, I’d maybe hook up with you”, you laughed while checking him out. 

Taehyung smirks. “Don’t worry about Jimin, he doesn’t give a fuck about relationships. We’re just fucking, but I wouldn’t want to love him.” 

You raise your eyebrow, almost feeling like you had to defend Jimin. But right at that moment, he was weaving in your direction and letting himself fall next to Taehyung who rolls his eyes and smirks at you before pressing his lips onto Jimin's. 

“I can’t wait to finally be away from you! For fuck’s sake. I won’t need to share my fucking room with you disgusting bitch!” Wildly gesticulating, Jimin screams the wildest names at you. The reason for your argument was obvious: drugs. 

Jimin doesn’t smoke weed or swallows trip after trip anymore, but he’s snorting Coke like there’s no tomorrow – more and more gravitating to take Meth and Heroin. 

You came fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around your body, hair dripping onto the floor, when you saw Jimin sitting on his bed – with a Crack-pipe in his left hand, a lighter in his right. The window was opened as if he would want the toxic gases to leave the room. Unnecessary, of course. 

The entire room smelt like Jimin, his attacks of sweating and the drugs he took. Even the curtains smellled like weed. 

“Crack, are you fucking serious? You dumb idiot, you know how addicting that is?” In moments like that, you get all moral and sit down next to him. “Minie, please. Even if you hate me that much – you still mean the world to me. I love you and I can’t keep on watching you destroy yourself.” 

Jimin, on the other hand, gets angry all the time about this topic. “I mean something to you? I overheard you and Tae, that you would hook up with him if you haven’t had Jeon. The fuck? Just shut up, Y/N.”  

“I was drunk, that’s it. He tutored me – I would’ve never said something like that if I was sober. I mean, I’ve got Jeongguk – the hotter one. Besides that; why are you with Tae? Because you love him? Because you want to build a future with him? Boy, you’re into his drugs, that’s it. You won’t have a future, half a year from now at the latest you’ll be dead. The drug-cocktail you’re enjoying too much will eat you alive. Don’t you smell yourself? Don’t you look at yourself? How much weight have you lost since we broke up? 20 pounds? 40? You’re nothing but a skeleton that smells rotten. Your hair is matted, your cheeks hollowed. Can I be honest, Jimin? I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad we don’t talk anymore and that I didn’t fall down the rabbit hole. And I truly hope that we’re never going to see each other after that”, by now, you were in full rage mode, throwing the pipe out of his hand and screaming a “And I won’t come to your fucking funeral!” at him before grabbing your headphones to watch some Netflix in bed. You open another window to not breathe in his drug-fumes. 

About half an episode of The Vampire Diaries later, someone ripped the headphones out of your ears and she was thrown onto her back, Jimin laying on top of you, his eyes almost glowing from anger. “Do you really think you can talk to me like that? You were nothing to me besides a lapdog to have fun with. And even if I look that destroyed, that rotten, you still think I’m attractive. You would take every chance to fuck me again, just to bring back the ‘good old times’. Angel, you chose Jeon just because I found someone else”, his knee finds its way between your legs while you moan in protest, making Jimin smirk. “You’re missing the danger in your life, Jeon is a nobody, he can’t give you adrenaline, he can’t give you action or passion.” 

His stubbly chin strokes your neck, your hands automatically balling into fists, but you don't fight him. Don't tell him to stop. His rough hands find their way under your shirt, caressing your ribs and giving you goosebumps. Soon enough, the shirt was laying on the floor, followed by your leggings. Jimin's lips follow the softness of your stomach while you were still laying underneath him, turned on but scared at the same time. 

“Jimin, that’s doing nothing to me. I’m not turned on, I despise you”, you move and try to get away from him, but he was still stronger than you. 

One of his large hands finds your wrists and pins them above your head. The other one was stroking your cheeks, your neck, and your breasts, down to your thong before pulling it down. He grins, seeing your wetness trickling down in between your thighs, your smell making him go wild. Once he sticks out his tongue to teasingly lick soft stripes up your aching core, your self-control was gone. You grab his hair to shove him towards your cunt, drowning him in your juices and making him drink up whatever leaves your body. Jimin didn’t seem to care, his free hand was tight around his cock, rubbing and stroking himself while bringing you closer to an end.  Once you came, you pushed him off and put your clothes back on, not caring about him or his orgasm at all before leaving the room without looking back. 

You didn’t even care about what had happened, but you didn’t tell Jeongguk either. For being his lapdog, Jimin got turned on really quick once he had his tongue on your pussy. Stupid idiot. But the only thing you thought about was revenge – and you already knew how to get it. 

Jimin hasn’t been in your room the next couple days and you've had enough time to go through his belongings, lay down on his bed and smoke his weed – that he ‘didn’t smoke anymore’. There were about five bags filled with beautiful flowers in his nightstand and you didn’t hesitate to grind and smoke them in Jimin's pipe. It has to be the stuff that Jai had brought him. It didn’t take lots of drags to feel the calming sensation and the puffiness of your eyes. You laughed while letting yourself fall back on his bed and to cuddle his pillow, still smelling like Jimin. 

You began to think about everything, about your feelings for Jimin, for Jeongguk and you even thought about Yoongi a couple of times. Then you thought about why you hated Jimin so much. 

You had admired him for so long, you would’ve died for him if he had asked. 

But now? 

Anger, Fear, and Anxiety. The fear of him replacing you with drugs. Or the fear of him dying without any chance of saying goodbye. The fear of being alone even though you were the one to break up with him. But he didn’t seem to care, he was alright, maybe even better than when he was with you. But you know that neither of you could ever feel complete without the other one. 

You gave up so much for Jimin, but he never cared. Your grades got worse, you broke up with Yoongi and you were consistently lying to your parents about everything. 

But what did you get from it? 

You were still alone, Jimin was fucking Taehyung and you were worrying about his death every single day because you were still in love with him. And even if you couldn’t convince him to go to therapy, you’d want to spend his last time together with him. 

God damn, you know he loves you as well. Tears were running down your cheeks, droplets falling onto his pillow and you realize the down of the high has arrived. Desperate for more, you were searching through his drawer for something more, something that could lift you up again. Maybe to find something that would lift you up on the same level with Jimin. Then you’d be reunited again. It would be only you. Not even Taehyung could keep up with them.

You peer over to his pipe, still laying on the nightstand and the Ice that was still in his drawer. Somehow, you knew it was the only opportunity to get to him. 

Your hands were shaking as you opened the small bag and placing some of the clear crystals onto the pipe that you didn’t even bother to clean. Weed and Ice have to work together. You take a small drag before exhaling frantically, the fear somewhat still in your mind. 

“Don’t be a wimp”, you scold yourself before placing the pipe back between your lips and holding the flame of the lighter against the Ice. It felt like the fumes got right into your bloodstream and your head felt like a rollercoaster. You smirked, followed by a loud laughter before repeating the process once more. You feel the adrenalin and hope for Jimin to come back sooner, to get high with you, to love you, to admire you. 

You know that your relationship just got onto a whole new level and there wouldn’t be anything that could separate you from now on. 

Your love was devastating, you would die for each other. You were almost angry that Jimin wouldn’t want to share that amazing experience with you, so you inhale once more, trying to get the double amount of fun. Mischievously grinning, you put everything back onto its original place before opening the window and watching the birds outside. God damn, life was good. 

PART 08 x MAKE IT RIGHT

Jimin felt like he was captured in this room. 

He couldn’t live with his angel without feeling like someone ripped his heart apart. 

You think he wouldn’t be able to think straight; that his brain was destroyed by all the drugs he took. But Jimin knows better. Since he took all the drugs, he had a clear mind, no demons in his head that were trying to interrupt his thoughts. He didn’t believe you talking about him being the love of your life – he knows everyone hates him. 

You were clean, you did it. 

You broke free. And now you see him like every clean person sees junkies. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what he looked like. The thing is, he wasn’t hungry anymore and he didn’t want to waste time just to eat. He showered every single day, maybe even twice, but he was sweating pure venom, pure drug-smell coming straight from his pores. He smelt just like the other junkies. 

You thought Crystal would be the dead-end, but Jimin was way deep down the hole. He took Heroin, not smoking it but shooting it straight into his veins. IV. Death in a needle. 

There are plenty of human beings that consume Heroin their entire life without you being able to recognize that, Jimin thought he was one of them. He shot H for about 2 years now, he had days where he didn’t need any – when he was with his angel -, but most of the time, he shot once or twice a day. 

Of course, he lied to you. Sure, he could go for a Cold Turkey just to be with you, but to be honest: Who would quit Heroin as long as there’s good stuff out there and there’s enough money to buy it? 

He would never. 

Not even for you. 

Not for billions on his bank account. 

He didn’t want to fight you. He wants to keep on loving you, but he couldn’t fight for you. Maybe you could accept him that way, accept his drug use and his lies. 

One night, Jimin came home late again, he decided to apologize, trying to get you all soft for him again. But when he came through the door, his “Listen, princess” kept sticking in his throat. The smell of weed lingers in the air, mixed with something else. His angel was laying on his bed, smiling like an idiot, watching youTube-videos until you looked up at him. “Minie, babe!” You jump off the bed, but Jimin pushes you back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me you’re kidding me. First of all, you stole from me. Second, you’re taking my drugs. Third, WHY are you even doing that? I thought you were clean. Did you lie to me the entire time?” – Just like he lied to her, nice try, Jimin. 

“Why are you so angry, Minie? C’mon here and I’ll let you fuck me really good – I can even play with your ass like Tae did if you’re into that. I won’t judge you, you know that.” 

Jimin wanted to rip his hair out, but that wouldn’t change anything. His precious angel smoked Ice and wouldn’t quit doing that so soon. 

“Listen, angel, babe. Why did you take this away from me? You wanted me to stop taking drugs, but you’re lying here totally high? That’s not what we wanted, precious.” He holds your beautiful face in his large shaky hands, looking you straight into the eyes. But your eyes weren’t the same anymore, the color was dull, no shine in it and hooded.

 Jimin couldn’t find the girl he loved in there. 

"I came to say sorry. I’m not good for you, angel. It’s best for me to leave college and leave you behind me as well. Like you said, I maybe have a few months left before dying. Don’t waste your feelings on me.” 

He kisses your cheek ever so softly before standing up. “I’m sleeping somewhere else, getting my stuff tomorrow and then your life will be Junkie-free. I’m so fucking sorry, angel, believe me. It’s better for both of us to finally end this toxic relationship. You deserve a normal life without me. It probably will never be like it was before, but you can change yours. Please, promise me one thing: stop taking drugs, angel. You’ll find your dream guy, having a family and anything I couldn’t offer you. Fuck, I can’t apologize enough. I love you, okay? Even if I made you go through all of this, believe me. Nothing was harder than letting you go, even if it’s the hundredth time by now. This time I’m keeping my promise. Goodbye, angel.” 

He quickly runs out of the door without turning around, he knows you were crying. He knows you would be screaming after him, but you wouldn’t run after him. You were paralyzed and will realize what really happened by tomorrow. You will hate him, but that’s for the best. Hate. Disappointment. Anger. But Jimin knew he wasn’t as egoistic as you'd be thinking. You were his life, he’d kill for you. But he’d do the same for Heroin. 

Everything. 

Even selling his body. 

And now that he had no home left, he knew what would come next. Streetlife. Begging. Prostitution. 

PART 09 X YOUNG FOREVER

His words were stuck in your head while you watched him leave your shared – now only your – room. Nothing had changed, he still didn’t want you. But you can’t run after him, so you lay back instead and close your eyes without losing a single tear. Your thoughts were still obscure and your body paralyzed, you can’t even feel you loss but fall into a deep slumber. 

“Y/N, wake up! Where is he? What did you do to him?”, you wake up and open your eyes hectically just to see Taehyung in front of you. His hands were on your shoulders and he shook you the entire time. “Fuck, Tae, who are you talking about?”, you get rid of his grip to stretch your body while yawning. Why did he even have to wake you that early on a Saturday? “Hm, who could be away? Jimin, of course! You dumbass, he wasn’t at our usual spot, there was just this fucking note!” He throws some pretty rough looking yellow paper at you. 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’m leaving ‘cause it’s the best for Y/N. Take care of her. Please. I’ll see you when you’re dead – hopefully, later than me. J"

Stunned, you kept reading and reading Jimin's messy handwriting until the words were burnt into your eyes. “He’s gone?” Tears form in your eyes while your hands start to shake. “Tae, tell me he’s not gone!” Your voice gets louder, the paper falls down. 

“Tae, goddamn it, say something!“ But Taehyung remains quiet, balling his hands to fists while clenching his jawline. “It’s your fault you fucking slut. What did you do to him once again? Can’t you just stay out of his life? Who knows what he’s doing to himself now?!“ The veins on his neck are popping out as he began to yell, but his words didn’t hurt you. Your thoughts were filled with Jimin. He left you just like you left him a couple of times. It hurts. 

“What could he do to himself, he’s swallowing more pills, smokes more weed and Crack, what else?” You acted ice-cold, trying not to cry anymore. 

“Sure, I forgot we were talking about Jimin, the guy that never takes drugs that’s why his life is so perfect. Y/N, what are you even talking about? Jimin stopped taking pills months ago, he’s shooting Heroin for around 2 years now. Are you listening? Heroin. The stuff that killed thousands of people, you idiot. If he doesn’t want to live anymore, he might just shoot some more H than usual. The golden shot.” You listen to Taehyung, but you break out in a loud burst of laughter as soon as he stops talking. 

“Sure, Heroin. I know him, I know how much he hates it! He promised me he’ll never take it.” 

Taehyung snorts while sitting next to you, head in his hands. “Y/N, I know lots of addicts, there ain’t love or promises as soon as you’re down there. The only love they feel is for H. The thing that kills them. But you’re only in second place. Sorry, but if we don’t look after him as fast as possible, he’ll be gone. You were his only anchor that saved him from drowning. But you made him leave and he’ll never come back on his own.” 

Taehyung was right, Jimin was gone. And you? You were shocked, angry and… sad. Because even though he promised you he loved you, it was fake. He spent your entire relationship on one of the hardest drugs, were you that dumb to not realize anything? 

“Hey, we’ll find him, okay? Let me grab my stuff and we’ll head out to look for him”, Taehyung wraps one arm around you and you and pulls you against his chest. Soon enough both of you were breaking out into sobs - and you kept crying the entire time Taehyung went into his room to put on his jacket and some shoes.

You cried while looking through Jimin's belongings, he left anything in your room; weed, pills and those fine crystals. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, fully concentrated on the Ice that was lying in front of you. Soon enough, not even 3 minutes later, you were high again, not shedding a single tear, not even knowing why you've been sad in the first place. Until Taehyung came into your room, shaking his head in disappointment and dragging you along their journey to find Jimin. 

The city was almost empty, nobody was walking around, and the clouds hung low in the sky, ready to let a storm out. “I don’t know where else to look for him, Tae. I’m getting tired”, Your mood was on its lowest while you kicked empty bottles of beer around. 

Taehyung shrugs. “Last step: the train station. But when he’s really there, we won’t have a chance to get him back.” 

You didn’t know why a normal station could be that bad, you just follow him through the thick gates of the main station. You hide your nose under your shirt as soon as the smell of piss, trash and vomit hits your senses. You made your way through the floors without talking, the amount of trash and empty cans highly rising. 

“Tae, I don’t think he’s gonna be..”, but Taehyung interrupts you with a quick hand movement. 

There, between all of those homeless people was Jimin. 

His head resting against the wall, eyes half-closed. 

“C’mon”, Taehyung holds her arm while walking straight up to them. “Jimin, move your ass and stand up.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Fucking rich kids...” 

The crosstalk begins, but Jimin remains quiet. He looks at you, but he doesn’t make a move to stand up. His eyes were sad, but his countenance stays emotionless. 

“I told you, go away. Leave me alone”, he ignores Taehyung but looks at you. 

“Minie, please..”, your voice breaks. 

“Aww, Jimin, did you find yourself a girlfriend? Cute. What do you take, honey? Ready for a tin?” Some guy with a black Mohican holds up a coke can. 

“Jin, no.” 

Jimin tries to take the can away from him, but his strength was all gone. “I’m…” 

“We don’t need anything, thanks.” Once again, it was Taehyung who talked for both of you. “They’re clean, you don’t need to waste your stuff on them”, Jimin's voice was weak. 

“Cute. Didn’t know you were friends with that kind of people. C’mon, hun”, Jin holds the can in your direction and you take it, confusion displayed on your face. Not knowing what to do, you look at the tiny hole in it. Watching the smoke coming through that hole, Jin pressures you. 

“C’mon”, he holds his lighter under the can to heat up whatever was inside of it. You look over to Jimin while trying to keep your tears hidden before taking a hit. Taehyung pulls you against himself, Jimin jumps up, but it’s too late. Your body was exploding as if a firework was lit inside you. Each and every nerve was reacting to this substance before you collapse into Taehyung’s arms. Jimin screams in anger. “Y/N!” Then he falls onto his knees. “You’re so stupid, I told you hundreds of times, now you’re into it too.” 

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you woke up hours later, the burning need in your veins permanent. You must’ve fallen asleep, now laying here, your head in Jimin’s lap. You didn’t know the place you were at, it couldn’t be the train station, but everyone from there was here as well. Now all of those train station kids were sitting here - well, and you -  it looks like it was some kind of old factory, and once again the coke can was going around. You sit up, pressing a soft kiss to Jimin's lips before grabbing the can once again. Some girl with ripped leggings just laughs. 

“Look at her. When you want some of your stuff, you need to pay for it, alright? We just share for money.“ 

Jimin's calming hands on your back were gone and he pulls you up with him. “Listen to me, angel. I hope you know what you did? I can’t insult you or blame you for anything because it’s all my fault, but run as long as you can. Heroin is no fun. Look at those Junk Boys and -girls. We’re all fucked – you’re not. You may want to take it but you don’t need to yet. Please, angel”, he looks at you, pleading and ready to do whatever it takes him to stop you, but you just shake your head, throwing a 20 Dollar-Bill on the floor and take the hit that lets you experience your second real high. 

Then, you kiss Jimin once again. 

“We’re in this together, babe. I love you. And even if you die, then we’ll both die. But let’s enjoy the time before that“, with that, the entire group explodes in applause and laughter, but you didn’t even realize that because you were already fast asleep in Jimin's arms. 

PART 10 X BADBYE

“Is there really no money left? Damn it, I need a shot. Now. Jimin!” 

You kick Jimin, but he was still high, just got done with his shot while you were waiting for yours. Usually, he was the one that gave you the shot because you couldn’t do it on your own. 

“FUCK!” 

You take the remaining Heroin off the foil, snorting whatever was left on there to get at least a tiny high. Unluckily, it wasn’t enough. It was like always. Jimin got the money, Jimin got most of the Heroin. You were dependent on him, have to wait until he allows you to take some of his drugs. “

If you don’t wake up I have to go get my own stuff.” But your threat didn’t do anything. Jimin was still blacked out on the floor. You were annoyed as you put on some clothes, and left the place you were currently living in. You walk down the streets without any destination. 

You didn’t know where Jimin was buying the stuff, neither did you know how he paid for it. Yoongi, Taehyung, Jeongguk – neither of them wanted to stay in contact as soon as they knew what was going on. Everyone was okay with smoking weed, but nobody was fine with shooting H. 

You play around with the contacts on your phone before calling one number, the number you thought you’d never call again. It rings three times before a loving voice answered. 

“Y/N, my precious child! You didn’t talk to us for so long, how are you? Dad and I were so worried! College called and told us you were gone? What are you doing? Where are you? Who’s with you?” 

You shrug, laughing it off. “Hi, mom.“ 

That evening, you're coming home with empty pockets, but with two online-train tickets back home to visit your family. “Baby, we’re going home! My mom wants us to live with them, they have enough money and we don’t need to look for another flat! I can show you around my hometown!“ 

You were on fire, packing all your belongings while Jimin slowly wakes up. “Did you think about that, angel? Your mother will realize how fucked up we are. What are you going to tell her? Everyone knows what a Junkie looks like. It won’t work.” 

“I don’t care if you’re coming with me or not. I’m going. I don’t need to worry about money for Heroin while you’re out there doing whatever. I need as much as you do, it’s not enough for me to snort whatever’s left since I started shooting as well!” 

“I’m not doing whatever, I’m fucking prostituting myself! I can’t go away from my customers, okay?” He looks down at the floor, not daring to look at you. Did he really just say that he sells his body? That he’s fucking someone else just to earn money? 

“You’re a hooker? Are you serious? You’re cheating on me to earn money? Wow, Jimin. That’s how much I mean to you? You’re letting some strangers fuck your ass? That’s why you don’t want to fuck me anymore? I guess you’re having enough orgasms throughout the day, huh? Well, you know what? Fuck you, Park.” Once again, your heart shattered in thousands of pieces while you run away once more, leaving him alone once more. Crying once more. 

It must’ve been ages since you saw Jimin the last time. You weren't counting in days but in shots. 

Your mother didn’t seem to notice anything about your addiction, she just thinks you're going through a rough break up. Of course, you were thinking about him, every fucking day. But it was never a positive thought. 

You always thought about your life without him. Your fist swings against the wall once again, you tend to do that a lot. Some bloodstains were already on it, but you didn’t care. You got nervous again, pulling your drawer open just to realize that there’s nothing in it. Just a last tiny piece of foil, nothing more. 

“Mom, you there?” You scream and leave your room without even looking into the mirror. She wasn’t there, like always. Her bag was with her and her wallet as well. They hadn’t had any money left in their house – why would they? Your mom paid anything with her credit card. You ramble through the rooms, searching for anything you could sell, but there was literally nothing. 

Without any money in your pockets you walk through the train station, searching for any ‘friend’ that owes you Heroin. None of them had some and you got on turkey rather quickly. You were shaking, crying and sweating. 

Soon enough, you realized there was one last thing left. The thing that broke your relationship. The thing that was the most disgusting thing to do. The thing you thought you’d never do. 

You had never thought about selling your body just to destroy it. 

You had never thought about letting someone else besides Jimin fucking you just for money. 

You had never thought that you wouldn’t find it as bad as you probably should. 

It was a fast way to make money. And you needed it fast. 

It was the twelfth day in a row that you were standing here to earn some extra coins. You almost felt like a celebrity on the streets, you could decide who to fuck and who to leave. There are many people here, some around your age, some older and some stone old guys. It’s not like you needed to go on the streets every day, you had enough money by now that you could easily go out there every third day, but it was fun and games for you. You were in a flow, didn’t want to stop, just seeing the dollar signs in each customer. 

The amount of Heroin in your room was enormous, you couldn’t even shoot that much without falling into a coma-state but you collected it for bad times. But this day you were really glad you decided to come here, you wouldn’t know about him otherways. He was here. And he was suffering. 

You were just finishing up with your third customer that day when you saw him. His shaking body leaning against a wall, trying to look cool, but you knew how he really felt. He was suffering. You knew, if you'd ever see him like that, all your feelings would be there again. And here you were, trying to help him one again. 

He didn’t even look at you, but you knew he had to feel you coming. 

Once you were right in front of him, you were about to vomit just from his smell. But you couldn’t help it and hugged him. “Minie”, you mumbled against his skinny chest. Neither of you was moving. 

“Go away, Y/N.” But you couldn’t. 

“C’mon, Minie. I’ve got some.”  

You drag him with you, preparing your needle and cooking up some H for the both of you. “I don’t need your help, Y/N.” 

“I can see that.” 

You grab his arm and shoot the H directly into his veins, not allowing him to do it himself with those shaky hands. You took him home with you, explaining to your mother how sick he was and that he couldn’t go back into his own flat because he’s got a fever and needed someone to take care of him. 

“You’re such an angel, Y/N!” was all she said. 

It was the day, you used to call Day X. The day that changed everything. Your mother knew about your addiction by now, wanting to send you to therapy but you were over 18 – she couldn’t decide for you. Mother and daughter were heavily arguing in the living room while Jimin was in the middle of preparing his shot. You couldn’t stop thinking about the white powder, you were about to get on Turkey and easy to provoke by now. 

“Fuck off, mom.” You ran into your room, locking the door behind you and walking over to Jimin. 

“Hurry, Minie. Can’t wait anymore.” 

Of course, Jimin wasn’t able to help you once he shot the poison through his veins. “Fucking bastard” was all you mumbled before preparing everything yourself, before falling asleep in his lap. 

You didn’t know that you were going to be the only one waking up. 

Jimin shot way too much, you should’ve known. Sometimes you used to shoot so much that you were near to your limit, but survived it every time. It was the best feeling someone could reach, and you thought that was what Jimin needed back then. 

But he got colder and colder every minute. He didn’t wake up, not even through you shaking his body. 

That was the moment you realized his weird behavior. His lovely side the last few days, he was always cuddling and prepping you with kisses. He even bought you a ring.

You began to scream your soul out. You kissed his body and his cold lips. Tears were streaming down your face while you searched everything you needed and laid it down in front of you. The needle in one hand, Jimin's hand in the other. You laid down on his chest, cuddling into his pale body, trying to ignore the cold feeling. It was a routine by now, preparing everything for your last shot ever. 

You pull up the liquid into your needle, kissing Jimin one last time. It was the moment for your shot; the one that will bring you back to Jimin, into a peaceful world. 

As soon as the venom reached your veins and insides, you couldn’t help but smile while you intertwined your fingers and close your eyes forever in this painful life.

[arlome]

28 and Phryne/Jack

But of course, my darling!

 She’s hanging a recently acquired Modigliani above the mantlepiece in her parlour when the doorbell rings loud enough to wake the dead. It’s rather early for a morning call – just shy of nine in the morning – and she’s not expecting any deliveries; she’s not had the chance to order much since she arrived. A fleeting, almost naughty thought about ignoring the door crosses her mind – after all, nine am is practically the crack of dawn - but whoever seeks admission to her humble abode becomes impatient and starts pounding on the door.

With a frown and decidedly negative opinion about the person awaiting her on the threshold, she makes her increasingly livid way to the door, wrenches it open forcefully – and stops short.

Standing on the doorstep, dressed in a fitting suit of dark grey wool and maroon tie, stands one of the loveliest men she’s had the misfortune to encounter before noon. He’s grave and almost sullen-looking, his face all angles and smooth skin, eyes bright and focused, and she finds herself leaning in the doorway and smiling pleasantly. Perhaps this is her lucky day.

“Good morning,” she says politely, “how may I help you?”

She’s got some rather colourful ideas.

“Madam, I’m Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” the man says solemnly, flashing his warrant card in her face. “May we come in?”

Startled by his words, she looks over the man’s shoulder and realises for the first time that he’s accompanied by another officer. This one is younger and in uniform; a senior constable, judging by his insignia. He’s smiling amicably at her in greeting, his handsome face open and sincere; in another life, she thinks, she’d have had great fun corrupting him.

“What’s this about, Inspector?” She asks, smiling at the constable and noting with great delight that he seems to flush rather vividly at her attention. Now, if only she could make the dour inspector blush prettily as well…

“May we come in?” the man in question repeats, getting a little impatient, and she almost crows in glee. Well, if that’s not an invitation to be difficult, she doesn’t know what is.

“I’d rather not,” she sighs, shrugging against the doorjamb, “the house is a mess, you see.”

She can tell the very second the Inspector loses his cool with her; his generous mouth thins to an irked line and he jams his hands into his trouser pockets. She’s delighted.

“Very well, Madam,” he says in a clipped tone that sends some rather inappropriate shivers down her spine, “I regret to inform you that your husband has been found dead this morning.”

Well, she certainly did not expect that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she offers, her tone even and calm. “I wish I had the chance to have known him before he died.”

The Inspector’s face turns blank; behind him, his constable’s mouth drops open.

“I…what?”

“I don’t have a husband, Inspector,” she explains, taking pity on the two men.

She can hear the constable gulping nervously. The Inspector reaches into his suit pocket and produces a notepad; frowning deeply – and very attractively – he scrutinizes his notes.

“Are you not Amelia Northman? Of 221A?”

Oh, oh; poor man. This must not be his day.

“Afraid not…” she replies sympathetically. “I’m Phryne Fisher of 221B and I’m quite decidedly single, Inspector.”

As hints go, this is rather a massive one; somewhere high on the titanic scale.

She can see the exact moment that the handsome inspector curses rather strongly in his head, his jaw clenching and eyes pinching. Behind him, his constable blenches and sways a little on his feet. He must have been the one to obtain her address for his boss.  

“Oh, we must have gotten the wrong house…” the inspector says, pocketing his notes, and looking sufficiently apologetic. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your time, Miss Fisher.”

They mean to leave, and she finds herself reluctant to part with the handsome men and the provided entertainment. She is a woman alone, newly arrived in town, after all.

“Was it murder?” she asks, trying hard not to sound too eager.

To her utter delight, the Inspector’s lips twist at one corner in what probably appears like a muscle spasm to most, but she suspects is a sort of a smile.

“Good morning, Miss Fisher,” he replies pleasantly and turns around, barking instructions at his still rather pale constable, who glances at her with a somewhat sickly farewell smile.

Once they’re gone, she heads for the kitchen and prepares a steaming cup of tea for herself and takes it with her to the veranda at the front of her house. She breathes the salty sea breeze in and sighs in utter contentment. It shouldn’t take long now; she can hear wailing from the adjacent house.

Soon enough, she can see the policemen heading towards their car, about to pass her little red gate.

“How did she take it?” she calls out and takes a calculated, long sip of scalding tea.

The cops stop in their tracks and regard her for a moment, then the Inspector leans to speak quietly to the constable. The young man nods exuberantly and walks away, while the senior officer opens the gate and comes up the path, stopping right in front of her.

“Your standard weeping widow?” she inquires dryly when he says nothing at all.

The inspector shoves his hands in his pockets again and shrugs noncommitting, his lips inching downwards.

“As standard as they come,” he replies, his tone giving nothing away. Well, she’s shrewder than that.

“But you’re not convinced.”

He narrows his eyes at her, seemingly annoyed with her butting curiosity and interference, but she can tell from the glint in his eyes that she’s piqued his interest.

“Would you like some tea?” she tries her luck. “I have biscuits – fresh from the bakery down the road.”

“I’m on duty, Miss Fisher,” he admonishes her, but she can tell from his momentarily widening eyes at her mention of baked goods, that he’s more than interested to linger in her company.

“Surely you need to question me, Inspector?” she tries again, aiming for a soft, decided push. “As a neighbour, I might be a witness, after all.”

He perks up at that and takes a step backwards as she rises to stand.

“How long have you been living here?” he asks her as she gathers her tea things and heads inside. She’s delighted to discover him following her to the kitchen.

“A week,” she says and dumps the cup in the sink.

He gives her an exasperated look as she takes two fresh mugs out of a cupboard and turns the kettle on.

“I’m very perceptive, Inspector, as I’m sure you’ll find,” she explains, and plates some biscuits. “I’ve got a good eye for details.”

“Have you, now,” he indulges her as he settles into one of the wooden chairs and relaxes. She takes a good look at his hands.

“I do,” she confirms, pouring hot water into the ready mugs and sliding one towards him. He accepts the steaming cup with a nod of thanks. “For example, I can tell that you’re divorced.”

He nearly spills the tea down his trousers and chokes on a biscuit.

“H-how…?” he coughs, and she nods towards his left hand.

“You’re not wearing a ring, but there’s a soft tan line where a ring should be…it’s very recent, isn’t it?”

He sighs and fiddles with his spoon.

“A few months,” he confirms reluctantly.

Well, well; lucky her.

“See? An eye for details – and Amelia Northman hated her husband. They had rows that would keep the entire neighbourhood awake at night, and she had a battalion of lovers.”

His lips twist in something akin to grudging admiration.

“Learned all that from a week’s stay, have you?”

She shrugs in fake nonchalance, but her blood is boiling. This – him – it’s all going to be so much fun.

“Eye for details, remember?” she almost purrs and leans with her elbows over the table. “How about you come tonight, and I’ll tell you all about it? I may have some insights relevant to the case. Perhaps some supper for potential information, Inspector Robinson?”

He’s definitely smiling now, and he tries to make it look as if he’s exasperated with her, but she knows better; she’s caught his interest, and he’s intrigued. Well, she can work with that.

“Call me Jack,” he says instead of answering, “everybody else does.”

“Then you must call me Phryne,” she simpers as he rises from his seat. He takes his mug to the sink and rinses out the tea, then he reaches inside his suit jacket and produces a card. She takes it from his fingers and twirls it a little in front of his face. He smiles again.

“Thank you for the tea, Miss Fisher,” he says politely and bows his head a little, and she finds this little gesture and his reluctance to address her informally rather endearing.

“Jack,” she acknowledges and sees him to the door, smiling almost wolfishly at his retreating back.

Yes, this is all going to be so much fun.

[onisiondrama]

Sorry it took me so long to summarize Onision’s 2nd and 3rd Shane videos from last week. I was avoiding the pain lol.

Shane Dawson Said Sorry... AGAIN - Speaks, June 26, 2020

- James announces he is going to talk about Shane’s apology video, but says he’s a bad source because he never watches things. He only hears peoples reactions to it. - Says people are more upset about blackface than the pedo thing. Says I guess people don’t care about the children, everyone forgave him. - Says most people would say Shane’s not racist because it’s obvious he doesn’t hate black people. He just made racist jokes. - Says every comment said Shane blamed his childhood and said sorry. People bought it and he’s un-canceled. - Says he doesn’t care about Shane being canceled. He just doesn’t want Shane to subject minors to what he said to his 12 year old cousin again. - He tells viewers to look up Shanna Malcolm because she was used as the token black person in Shane’s videos so Shane could make his racist jokes seem ok. Says Shanna was hardcore canceled later on. James says he met her and she was nice in person. Says Shanna made a video saying sorry for letting Shane use her as a prop so he could use blackface. She deleted all her videos, says once again black woman takes the fall for white man. Says he didn’t see Shane defend her. - Says he recalls Shane used to word ”monkey” to described black people and she was in that video. Says he could be wrong and tells viewers don’t trust what you hear on Youtube. Says he doesn’t feel like looking it up. - Says a bad childhood doesn’t cause someone to be racist. Says children can be naturally racist. Says his Uncle Charlie lives in Tennessee and told James he better watch out when he leaves the house because there might be a black person trying to rob him around the corner. Says he had racist relatives, but as a child James at age 7 thought his Uncle was a dumb old man. - Says as a kid he had a black foster brother. Says he doesn’t know what the fuck happened to him. He guesses he found a permanent home. Says he has a picture of himself as a kid doing a human pyramid with a black boy on his back and his sister at the top. He had it in his head that black people were cool. He dated multiple black people, but it didn’t go well because the kissing with one person. He liked black people, but not all of them just like white people. As a child he knew racism was full of shit. - Says Shane should have apologized for doing fucked up things and not talk about his childhood and make himself a victim. Says that’s what happened according to all the comments he saw. Says he also saw fangirls commenting on Youtube defending him. - Says you can’t blame saying inappropriate things to minors on your childhood. James says his dad was allegedly molested as a child and ended up being a molester himself. That doesn’t mean it’s ok. - Says everyone on twitter is mad as fuck, but everyone on Youtube says it’s fine. - Jenna Marbles canceled herself and Shane did worse shit and is fine. - Tells Shane to donate some of his millions of dollars. - (He spends the rest of the video reading tweets about Shane. I don’t feel like explaining all the tweets just to write his reaction so I’ll skip.)

Shane Dawson Demonetized... YouTube OMG - Speaks, June 30, 2020

- Reads a headline saying Shane suspended Shane’s monetization on all of his channels. James says that’s horrifying. - Says he thinks Shane can survive this. Says he thinks Shane’s biggest mistake was calling out beauty gurus. Says they are terrible and they proved Shane right. - Laughs at a headline about the Smiths’s reaction to the Shane clip of him pretending to jerk off to a poster of Willow Smith. James says that was problematic, but it was obviously a joke. Says he doesn’t think Shane would actually do that. - Says Tati blamed Shane and Jeffree in her 40 min tell all, according to a headline. - (A chunk of the video is James reacting to clips of Shane on twitter. I don’t feel like describing the clips and I’m sure everyone has seen them already so I’m going to skip this part.) - He goes back to the original headline and asks didn’t Youtube suspend Jake Paul’s monetization? He asks if Youtube suspends monetization when it’s convenient for them? Then they’ll re-monetize him later on when people aren’t mad anymore. Asks if there is a social justice system and this is his jail? - Says Youtube calling him to get him to take down his videos about Shane. Says he had proof of these phone calls and gave it to keemstar. Says Youtube told him he had to take them down because of their new anti-harassment policy. James says he told them about someone (Hansen?) showing up to his house. They agreed with James that he should call the police, but didn’t take those videos down about the guy showing up to his house. - Says Shane is so popular that Youtube would be canceled if they canceled him, Says they allegedly decided to censor other people and protect Shane instead of having stocks go down. He is the unofficial poster boy for Youtube. - (He goes to discord chat to ask them their opinions about Shane, but they all just want to talk about Ninja and Alinity. Blah, blah, blah. James watches the clip of him kissing Shane. The end.)

[calleo-bricriu]

1996-ish.

((Chatting with @absintheabsence earlier today, we thought it’d be amusing to make Grindelwald listen to 110 or so year old Calleo describe @tmvoldemort in the most over the top, dramatic way possible so...but also, I absolutely love the way Voldemort was described in the books and will always be salty that the movies made him into a weirdly buff, blue eyed, not all that frightening guy with a very low, sultry voice instead of the skeletal, red eyed, no lipped, sharp teeth filled fucking creepy thing with a high pitched nasally voice. ))

"Officially a new administration," so much for hello. So much for not just shifting back at the window and tossing a copy of the evening Prophet onto that rickety desk.

"Again, I mean, we've had--this is third this decade alone. Put the former head of Magical Law Enforcement in as Minister, maybe to make it look legitimate but probably because he was always a slimy little," Calleo cleared his throat and ended that phrase with, "man."

"And he was always easy to influence; with the way he's been talking in those press conferences, he's either got a wand at his neck or he's being otherwise controlled, just not enough to make it immediately obvious." He hadn't really looked to Grindelwald for a reaction to any of that, as a reaction wouldn't have made any difference and the most likely reaction would have been one similar to his own: A combination of entertained and annoyed.

"Whatever." Calleo flopped back down on the always changing thing he kept Transfiguring into different shapes good for sitting or laying in positions not easily allowed by things like traditional furniture. This time it left him half sitting, half laying, with one leg over something that vaguely resembled a chair arm and the other propped up on the back of it so he could tap one of his shoes against the stone wall.

"The only part of it that's interesting is the Dark Lord," he wiggled his fingers menacingly at Grindelwald, "has been making quiet rounds to department directors in departments that apparently warrant his direct interest instead of just sending some low level sycophant. So, you know, obviously, I got a visit. About damn time too, but, realistically, the lift was 'broken' for several months and Maintenance couldn't seem to get it fixed and there's only one other way in that he doesn't know."

"Have you ever seen photographs of the dead things Muggles drag up from those abyss areas of the ocean? The things that are all translucent skin stretched over bone and are made of mostly teeth? Imagine one of those in ratty black robes and with an aversion to wearing shoes."

"Actually don't, I can describe him more properly!" Calleo grinned in that sharp sort of way that might have sliced through part of the stone walls as though they were made of wet paper.

"I'm not the best judge of height because mine changes so often based on the shoes I'm wearing, but he's not nearly as tall as I thought he'd be. I don't know if he's got other robes or not, but the ones he was wearing look like they came directly out of someone else's coffin. His toenails are long. Not, like, in that sort of way you get if you're just a bit nasty and don't clip them, it looks almost as though he's specifically grown them long to file them into points."

"Might be why he doesn't wear shoes," Calleo shrugged and laughed, "Matching nails on his hands, which is perfectly fine. He's almost see-through he's so pale, though. Not pale like you're pale or I’m pale, pale like a sheet of bleached white paper, you can see a great deal of his circulatory system; I'm almost convinced if I were to peek inside his robes under good lighting I'd be able to see whatever it is he's got for internal organs!"

"It looks...damp, as well, his skin. Very, very smooth but there's this sheen to it that makes it look damp and I don't think it is. Not too keen on touching him to find out as if he is damp, it's going to be the worst possible sensation. Rail thin, skeletal really, I'm not sure how it is he moves apart from just hand-waving it with ‘a Wizard did it’, because he really is THAT thin!"

Calleo shifted in the--thing he was sitting on and was nearly upside down now, with both feet up against the wall, grinning at the cell's other occupant upside down, "But his FACE though, you should see it, it's ghastly and fascinating at the same time! I had my guesses some time ago about what he'd done and how he'd seemingly been smacked right in the face with a killing curse and survived, but I can't ask him about that because I'm sure he thinks it's a secret despite knowing what my job is and where my expertise lies."

He reached back--or down, depending on one's perspective and started removing Merlin knew how many hairpins from his hair, with the bits that slowly came undone ending up pooling on the floor as he still hadn't sat back up. "Anyway, I don't know how many he'd made or has left but whatever he used to get himself a body again must've been about the size of one of these," one hairpin was flicked across the room at Grindelwald, "because he looks barely human. He's just sort of human-ish shaped and speaks at least one human language."

"Anyway," a laugh, entirely inappropriate given the topic, "apart from the tightly stretched, nearly see-through, damp and smooth looking skin, he's got these bright red eyes with cat pupil slits and that might be unsettling on its own but I keep the lights low in the Archives so they can't stay little slits if he wants to see, and they do the same thing as cat eyes! They go ROUND! But, still, I don't mean red eyes in the sense that he's not had any sleep in a few weeks, they're just bright, almost glowing red. Black pupils, everything else red. I've heard of that happening--well, read about it, I've only ever known people who've knocked themselves into two pieces, never more than that, and they just sort of get that 'I'm not high, what are you talking about?' sort of eye redness that's easy to hide."

"Then he's got this nose that's, I mean, it's there, he's got holes in his face for breathing and all, but the area is flat and just has slits, like you'd expect to find on a Muggle burn victim or something. He's got to have lips of some sort, maybe just very small ones, but whatever they are they don't cover even a third of his teeth, which are sharp, if you were at all curious. Like one of those awful looking things dredged up from the ocean floor. He might also have a forked tongue; human looking otherwise, just split, but I'm not sure, I figured staring at his mouth for too long would give the wrong impression."

Calleo shifted again, but it was only to roll a bit so he was laying on his stomach with his head turned toward Grindelwald, "But the part that would've likely got me killed if I weren't so good at knowing how to NOT react to things with anything but Basic Ministry Neutrality was his voice. Part of it's the nose, I think, then the weird mouth--at least he doesn't also lisp--and maybe he's got some completely fucked up internal throat structure, but his VOICE! I can't--"

This time he had to pause to collect himself after a not insignificant amount of near giggling, "It's so high pitched and nasally! And that's his normal speaking voice!" Of course, Calleo simply had to pinch his own nose shut and raise his voice a couple of octaves, "Can you just imagine how much it goes up if he gets his wand in a knot over something? Because," mercifully, he didn't keep the imitation of Voldemort's voice going for more than a few words, "most peoples' voices go up a bit if they're angry or really excited about something and imagine what I just did there, only even higher pitched in that sort of situation."

"I would love to study him as a specimen, as I've never met anyone who's dragged themselves back with only a sliver of a soul but that's another thing where I think it might give off the wrong impression; I'd hate for him to think I'm interested in him rather than interested in him."

Evidently, laying (or sitting) still wasn't a thing Calleo was willing to do just yet, and he was now on his back, gathering his hair around to one side of him to start braiding it. "The thing is, I know who he is--or was. Albus ( @everyheartbesure ) kept bouncing back and forth between calling him Voldemort and Tom back when we first talked about it in 1981 and I remembered a student with the same name that he'd mentioned to me a few times, who was also the same person that worked at Borgin & Burke's for a few years. I only remember him because he wasn't a Borgin or a Burke and, by default, significantly more pleasant to deal with. Well-spoken, intelligent, seemingly well educated on everything in the shop, decent looking; dark eyes, dark hair, not translucent, spoke a little strangely now and again but who doesn't if they're working with the Dark Arts?"

"Knowing that in hindsight made it a little more clear as to how he was able to charm his way into a following; I do recall him being very polite and charming and coupling that with the way he looked, it likely wasn't very difficult to convince nearly anyone to go along with whatever he was telling them."

"He's going to have to really ramp up the charm to compensate for the lack of looks, I can tell you that much, unless he's planning to drop the 'charm' aspect altogether and go with, 'You can do what I say or I'll make you sit across from me while I try and make human facial expressions while looking like this.'"

"Shame, really." Calleo finished with the braid and curled up on his side, still facing Grindelwald; it would be rude to face the wall, after all, since that wasn't who he was talking to. "Interesting, but still a pity he ended up like that. On the plus side, he seems to want to try and run the Ministry so that's going to guarantee he ends up having everything pulled in so many ridiculous directions at once that he'll likely be in and out within five or so years maximum!"

"Anyone who decides they want to try and run the Ministry deserves what they get. I'm not sure he has the ability to tolerate the level of nonsense you have to be able to tolerate to even work there long term, let alone try and control it."

[redrobin-detective]

Be Soft

So @captainkirkk had a birthday the other day and I promised a fic in her honor. I chose Fire Lord Zuko and one of my favorite quotes to guide me. I am so happy to know you friend, thank you for your writing and for being my mutual. May your day and all others be warm and blessed.

Be Soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place. ~ Iain Thomas

XxX

“Prince Zuko,” Father spoke in that slow, clipped tone he used when he was displeased. “Why did you leave your firebending lesson early?”

“I saw something,” Zuko muttered, overcome with shame and embarrassment.

“And what did you see that was so important that you felt the need to disrespect the teacher I pay good money to tutor you?” Father continued with a sneer.

“A-Azula left early too, even earlier than I did,” he defended, pointing at his sister who gave an indifferent shrug. Everyone knew who the favorite was, who would come out on top.

“Azula is a prodigy and does not need the lessons you so desperately need to even call yourself a bender much less my son,” Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head so his father couldn’t see the tars stinging in the corners of his eyes at the cruel words. It would only make his dad angrier.

“So tell me, Prince Zuko, what did you see?” Father asked again, this time almost managing to sound genuine but Zuko knew he was at the end of the man’s patience.

“I uh saw one of the recently hatched turtleducks being followed by the garden master’s cathawk and I was worried that it would get eaten. So I um,” He saw his father frown in disapproval. “I uh chased off the cathawk and carried the turtleduck back to the pond. It’s mother snapped at me but the baby was safe at least.” He all but murmured the last part. Beside him, Azula laughed quietly into her hand.

“So you abandoned your lesson to chase away an animal from doing what nature intended it to do,” Father huffed and smoke billowed out of his nose. He stood up abruptly and grabbed Zuko by the front of his tunic before he could move. “This is why you so inadequate as a prince. No one cares about tiny mewling creatures in a pond, all that matters is the power you hold and how you use it. You may have stopped that cathawk today but what about tomorrow? Either it will feed on your precious turtleducks or it will die. You need to learn to do the same or a similar fate may befall you.” He let go and walked past Zuko without another look and out of the room.

“I told ya Dad would be mad,” Azula gloated from next to him.

“Shut up,” Zuko mumbled from the ground.

“Both of you, stop that,” Mom said, bustling into the room with a pinched look on her face she stooped down to his level and it melted into concern. “Are you okay Zuko?” Azula rolled her eyes at the display and stalked out of the room with her head held high. But Zuko didn’t notice, didn’t care, with his mother’s arms now around him.

“Yeah,” he said into the sleeve of her robes, trying to wipe his tears away as discreetly as possible but Mom probably noticed anyway. “Am I, am I a bad prince because I didn’t want the baby turtleduck to get eaten?”

“Oh Zuko,” she said into his hair, “no, baby. You’re a good prince and you know why?” She pulled back and wiped her thumb across some wetness staining his cheeks. “It’s because you care about living things, even when it’s hard. You’re hardworking and brilliant and you use it all for the sake of others. I would want to live in a nation knowing my Fire Lord did everything he could to protect me and my family. That is the mark of a true leader, using your power for the betterment of the world.”

“Do you think I could be that kind of a person?” Zuko asked meekly.

“Oh my love,” she said with a kiss, “of course you will. You’ll be the kindest Fire Lord the world has ever known.”

XxX

“Oh Agni which one of these do I answer first,” Zuko asked himself picking one of the literal dozens of scrolls littered on his desk. He’d felt on top of the world a week ago when the Fire Sages had crowned him Fire Lord but now he wonders if he’ll really be able to fix his broken nation, this broken world. The scrolls contained everything from demands of reparations from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, generals at the front demanding orders, Fire Nation dignitaries disagreeing with his ideas for a new, brighter Fire Nation. Basically everyone wanted a piece of him and he just didn’t know if he was enough.

He stalked over to the wall on the other side of room and stared at a painting Sokka had given him before they’d left. It depicted Zuko with his swords doing some sort of firebending, or at least that was how Sokka described it. It pretty hard to tell but it had been made for him by his friend, a fact that still takes him off guard. Who would have thought he’d ever be nostalgic for the War? Simpler times now that he thinks on it, stop the Fire Lord and save the world but now he’s Fire Lord and he doesn’t know how to fix things. He doesn’t know if anyone could. He was tired from too many late nights, worn down by the physical and emotional stress of the last few weeks and aching from the inside out at the thought of being exactly what his father said he was: nothing.

He growled, pulling away from the wall and going back to his desk where the scrolls are still lying, just as accusing and disbelieving and unanswered as they were a moment ago. There’s a quiet little knock at the door and a hesitant little “My Lord?”

“What!” Zuko snapped, spilling some scrolls from the desk in his anger. As quickly as his frustrating bubbled it fizzled out and he chased after the frightened servant who had staggered back out into the hallway. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you startled me and I’m just so frustrated and I didn’t mean to scare you, really.” He was about ready to get down on his knees when the servant, an older woman he remembers seeing on the periphery of his childhood, kind of stopped and stared at him as if she didn’t know what to make of him.

“Are you alright, my Lord?” She said finally as he kind of awkwardly staggered to his feet deciding he probably looked ridiculous going for a bow with this woman. He swayed a little bit, pushing some of the hair out of his face.

“Yes, obviously, do I not look alright?” He asked and she pointedly took an extra telling few moments before nodding her head. “Yeah, I thought so.” He sighed leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry again for earlier, that was inappropriate of me. Can I make you some tea to make up for it?”

“I,” she said before shaking her head as if to clear it. “No I was coming to ask if you wanted tea.”

“I do but I’d like to make it, need to do something with my hands. Here, come inside, we can talk for a moment,” he said, leading the woman into the room and setting her on the plush royal stool. “What’s your name? Is green tea alright? It’s all I have in here.” He babbled as concentrated on measuring the tea out just so while he lit a flame for the ever present pot of water.

“I am Maki,” she said softly, “and yes, my Lord. Is this what plagues you?” She asked gesturing to the scrolls sill covered his desk and now the floor. He grunted, playing with the water’s flame.

“I don’t know how to answer them in a way that will make them listen to me, I need them to respect me, to take a chance with me on peace but I don’t know how,” he sighed watching the leaves steep in the water.

“If I may my Lord,” she began hesitantly. “I would be honest; you have done more than most to end the war. They cannot doubt your motives, explain yourself as you have to me and I believe they will listen. Mistakes are made freely but so few are willing to extend the hand out in repentance and understanding.”

“Huh,” He said mulling over the words before pouring the tea for the two of them. “That just might work.”

XxX

Zuko had faced many monsters in his life both in spiritual and human form but it never got any easier. The trails punishing the war crimes of those from all four nations during the war went on years after Ozai was taken down. As Fire Lord, he was responsible for those charged within the Fire Nation and it anguished him to see how many of his people were guilty of crimes against humanity.

He knelt down in front of a row of liberated prisoners from a camp, mostly deserters or war criminals or rebels who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They were clearly underfed, overworked, their bodies strained and exhausted beyond measure. Their suffering was imbedded in every lines along their skin and their fear lighting in their eyes like candle flames. It made him want to turn away in disgust and anger but instead he held out a hand.

“Your cases will be reviewed, some of you may still face prison time but it won’t be like this,” he said, emphatically, trying to put as much honesty into his words as he could. If his voice broke a little at the end and his hand shook a bit then all the better to convince them. “The rest of you will be allowed to return to your lives and your families, all we ask in return is that you give our peace a chance. Are these terms acceptable?”

“You would really let a go?” A young woman, probably around Azula’s age asked with a sneer. His father’s years on the throne showed very little sympathy towards disagreement, no one was free from punishment. No wonder she didn’t believe him.

“Guard, release their manacles. While the records are reviewed they don’t need to be chained, once they’re off, get rid of them. They’ll never be put on anyone ever again,” Zuko ordered.

“B-but my Lord!” One guard stuttered, “the prisoners will riot, they need to be contained.”

“Unless they want to risk their chance of going home, I believe they deserve the chance to feel like humans again,” Zuko side-eyed the guard. “Unless things were happening in this camp that you fear retaliation for.” Several guards looked away and Zuko knew he’d be investigating their records, as well as speaking to the prisoners themselves, as well.

“Sir, I must protest. It’s not safe for you and, to be honest, it is beneath a man of your status to kneel before peasants and miscreants. Every one of them is here because of crimes they knowingly committed against the state. Everything that happened here, to them, was justified.” The head guard said with a face that looked as if he had never smiled before. A few of the prisoners bowed their heads or shrunk away from the man’s very presence. He’s sure he’ll find that every heinous act in this camp was committed or authorized by this man. It’s times like these he most understands his father, how easy and good it would feel to lash out this man with both his fire and his privilege. But he stays his hand, if only for the people behind him. He needs to show them that he means what he says, that he believes in pretty words like peace and justice. They were worth something, a long time ago, he hope to bring those words to life again.

“Justified,” he hisses, “or not, I want them set free. And we will decide what or what not is beneath me when I’m reviewing the records of everyone at this facility.” He stood tall, putting as much confidence as could into his posture. He would save these people and he would do it the right way. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

XxX

Forty Eight was still too young, he decides wearily. He’d been Fire Lord for three decades, fought and lost many battles, won a few in-between, and put his heart and soul into restoring the Fire Nation. And yet here he knelt, feeling as fragile and helpless as a child. Forty Eight was far too young to lose a father.

“Uncle,” he croaked, “can I get you some more tea?”

“Not now,” Uncle said with great effort. “Your tea making has much improved nephew but I fear my stomach cannot handle it.” Zuko looked down at his worn hands and wrestled with them anxiously. There were people outside waiting for him, his wife and daughter, his friends, his nation, all grieving the impending loss of one of its finest heroes. But in this moment, nothing existed but him and his uncle.

“What troubles you, my Lord?” Uncle whispered, almost a sigh.

“You know,” Zuko said back just as quietly.

“Death is another part of life,” that weathered, weary hand reached for his own and Zuko held on as tightly as he could allow. “I have lived a spectacular life, made mistakes, redeemed myself, raised a boy into a man,” Zuko suppressed a sob, “helped save the world, ran a shop. I have done what I was meant to do and now it is time for me to depart. My body is failing and my spirit longs for peace.”

“I know,” Zuko admitted, thinking of the slow progression the years had worn on the man who had always seemed larger than life. “And I thank you for staying with me for as long as you could, for being my family when I had none. I,” he bowed his head and brought Uncle hand up to his forehead. “As your Lord, I give you permission to have your rest. You have served your nation honorably General Iroh, you go with honor and-and with love.” He said with as much composition as he could muster, shoving the pain he felt letting his uncle go in favor of relieving the pain his uncle felt at being forced to stay for his sake.

“Zuko, my Zuko,” Uncle said warmly removing his hand from Zuko’s forehead to rest it along his cheek. He hand was cold and thin but Zuko cupped it anyway. “I know this is difficult but your words me so much to me. The blessing is nice, but the true blessing is watching you bloom like a cherry blossom, beautiful and kind, is the greatest gift of all.”

“I tried Uncle,” Zuko said, some of his grief abating in the face of Uncle’s proverbs. “I��ve done my best to be a be a good leader, to not be like my father. It’s been hard Uncle, it’s been so hard,” he nuzzled his Uncle’s hand. “Sometimes I get so frustrated and angry and it hurts but I tried to be what this nation needed.”

“My Prince, my Lord, my dear Nephew,” Uncle said, “you are. It is precisely because it has been so hard that makes your accomplishments shine even more brightly. Watching you grow, seeing your light, it has been the pleasure of my life, Zuko.” Zuko smiled into his uncle palm, still feeling small and afraid and so terribly sad. But his Uncle is ready and Zuko thinks he’s finally ready too.

“Go in peace,” He said, gently resting Uncle’s hand on his harshly rattling chest, “go with my love.”

“I must share it with every living creature,” Uncle said, “and I am all the more glad for it.” Uncle closed his eyes and Zuko knew that everything they had to say had passed. This time is for his Uncle and him alone. He leaned down and kissed his brow one last time before sweeping out of the room. He wanted to stay but the man had wanted his privacy and Zuko could not deny him. Still, he thought, standing outside with the others, leaning heavily on Aang’s shoulder as the inevitable comes and passes.  It was hard to be gentle, to let the softest part of him out for everyone to see. But he was raised with both cruelty and kindness and he knew which he wanted for his country, for his family. For his Uncle’s memory and for all the people he hoped to save, he could only go forward and hope it was enough.

[katoninefandoms]

Out of Time, Out of Place

I haven’t written Lord of the Rings fanfiction in a long time, and I finally had a great excuse to write some and write Marvel fanfiction at the same time. If you follow me, this is the fic I had an ask about (thank you @theswerviest) and am considering eventually continuing. You can also find it on Wattpad here, and I will most likely post the continuation on AO3 here once I get to it. 

If Steve weren’t used to having his life suddenly upended, he supposed this situation would be a lot worse. He hadn’t done this consciously, like getting into Erskine’s machine or diving a plane into the Arctic ocean, but at least it was not an immediately jarring change. Aliens had decided to attack New York again, and Steve and Natasha found themselves pushed back into the more forested part of Central Park, dodging through trees to try and get the upper hand on the opposition while the rest of the team handled the mothership in the atmosphere and the damage in the city. In the midst of the fighting, Steve hadn’t gotten a chance to get a good look at the aliens, and as he tried to keep pace with Natasha, so that he didn’t leave her behind, he tripped over a large root. 

Small things like that didn’t phase Steve anymore, but it was just enough time for the swarm of aliens to catch up. They didn’t attack him right away, like they had been before. Huge, hulking creatures stood over him, frowning and grunting like they weren’t sure he should be there at all. Their weapons seemed primitive, but maybe he just hadn’t gotten a good look before. Steve jumped up and attacked, trying to fight his way out of the group of creatures. 

It wasn’t easy as it had been just a few minutes ago. His punches were less effective, and the hits that the aliens got in were harder, more painful and he could feel bruises blooming where they managed to land solid blows. 

“Natasha!” he shouted, hoping she was still close enough to hear. “I need backup!” 

Steve broke free and sprinted further into the forest, hauling himself up into a tree as quickly as he could. He touched the communicator in his ear, to make sure it was still working, and noticed that all he could hear from it was static. He pressed the manual button, and tried to contact her, or any of their other teammates. But no one answered. He dodged a crudely-made arrow and frowned, looking around himself. Suddenly, he realized he couldn’t hear the buzz of the city, or their air support, or Hulk’s roaring, or Thor’s thunder. Steve swallowed hard and looked around, keeping the trunk of the tree between himself and the aliens -- if that was what they were. He scanned the forest, realizing that it was definitely not Central Park. The trees were different, almost more ethereal. He couldn’t see the tips of skyscrapers above the treeline.

But, for some reason, he felt comfortable in this place, like he’d been here before. 

An arrow whizzed by and nearly clipped Steve’s ear. He swore and noticed the creatures at the base of the tree, preparing to send more arrows up. He curled up as small as he could and put up his shield, mind racing. Where the hell was he? What were these creatures? Why did he know this place? How did he get here?

There was a commotion below him, and he waited until it died down to peek over the top of his shield. Three figures stood below the tree, two of them taller and one very short. They were looking at him strangely, as if he were totally out of place. Although, the more he looked at them, he could tell that they were completely justified. They were wearing tunics, breeches, and cloaks. They had on armor, the kind he’d only ever read about in fantasy novels. Steve’s uniform seemed to continuously baffle and amuse everyone around him anyways, even though he’d been wearing something similar since the 40s. But there was a very obvious difference here.

Steve slipped out of the tree, landing carefully on the forest floor. One of the men had a sword drawn that he held in a defensive position, the tallest one readied his bow in a flash, and the third man, a short, short man with a large beard, brandished his axe. Again, Steve realized that he couldn’t help but somehow recognize these men. He should have known who they were, but his mind was coming up blank. Instead of focusing on that thought, he slowly lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, and then slipped the shield into its harness on his back. The men did not let their guard down. The tallest one looked at him disdainfully. 

The man with the sword stepped forward, lowering his sword a little, “State your name and your business.” He was commanding, but he also seemed to sense that Steve was just as confused as they were. 

“My name is Steve Rogers,” Steve answered, honestly. “I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know where I am.”

The short man growled and stepped forward, “Aragorn, I don’t believe ‘im. Let me take care of this… this spy and let’s be on our way.”

Steve blanched, suddenly going cold. Aragorn. “The Fellowship,” he breathed, before Aragorn could reply to the short man, whom Steve could only surmise was Gimli. 

All of their gazes snapped to him, and the third man -- Legolas, surely -- loosed his arrow, barely grazing Steve’s ear in warning, and replaced it just as swiftly. Aragorn’s sword raised, though he gripped Gimli’s arm to keep him from charging. Steve noticed the leaf clasps that held their cloaks together. 

Aragorn’s gaze locked with Steve’s wide eyes, boring into him. “How have you learned of our Fellowship?”

Steve weighed his options carefully. Telling the truth would sound fantastical to them, even in a world of magic, and might get him killed. However, if he lied, they would definitely be able to tell, and they would attack him anyways. He wished he had Thor with him, or Natasha. They would know better what to do with this. Of course, Natasha would smack him upside the head and tell him to use his brain. From what Steve knew of the story, he should be able to tell these men the truth. They would be able to tell, and even if it seemed impossible, surely they’d try to reason with him, first. 

“I’m… I’m in Middle Earth, yes?” Steve asked, needing to clarify before he made a total fool of himself. He had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

“Are ye daft?” Gimli roared, fighting Aragorn’s grip. “Of course you’re in Middle Earth! Where else would ye be?”

Steve took a step back, putting his hands back up in placation. “I came here from New York City. My… my friends and I were in the middle of a battle, and I was somehow transported here.” He looked around, taking in the bodies of what he now knew to be Orcs and Uruk-hai around them. “These… aren’t the aliens we were fighting.” He looked back up at the three men, who simply blinked at him as they processed what he said. “Your Fellowship is part of a popular series of… stories, where I come from.”

Thinking about it, with just the three of them here, and the stillness of the forest, and the amount of dead Orcs, Steve thought he knew where in the narrative this was. If he strained his hearing, he could hear the river nearby. There was no other movement in the forest, the creatures still afraid to come out of hiding, and no Hobbits left to run through the underbrush. They were close to Amon Hen, near the River Anduin.

Legolas was the first to speak. His grip on his bow tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of black magic?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered, honestly, keeping his eye on the Elf’s other hand, ready to dodge if he loosed the arrow. 

Silence stretched between them all as each of the three seemed to try and decide what to do with him. Steve could only pray his team noticed he had been zapped into another universe and that Tony was going to find some way to bring him back. Even if he survived this conversation, there was no way he would be able to get back to New York on his own. He supposed he might be able to find his way through Lórien and ask the wise Elves for help, but that was a long shot. They likely wouldn’t welcome a lone human anyways, nevermind so close to the Fellowship’s visit. 

Aragorn sheathed his sword, letting go of Gimli to wave at Legolas. The Elf lowered his bow, still glowering at Steve. 

“You’re not lying to us,” Aragorn said, reaching a hand out for Steve to clasp, which he did, gladly. It almost felt like meeting a celebrity. “Steve Rogers, I have never heard of New York City, I do not think we are able to help you.”

Steve smiled, ruefully, “I didn’t expect you to. I don’t know how to help myself.” He glanced around, as if his team might appear. “My friends will have to find me to get me home. Is there a place nearby that is safe for me to wait for them?”

The three men looked at each other, and Gimli grumbled while Aragorn and Legolas spoke softly in Elvish to each other. Hearing the language in person made Steve feel like he might faint. Gimli didn’t seem very bothered by Steve anymore, but Legolas kept throwing him dirty looks, and Steve wondered if he shouldn’t just try to make it on his own. But before he could beg off, telling them he could manage on his own, Aragorn turned back to him. 

“If you know our story already, from your… world, then you know we are leaving to chase down two of our companions who were taken by the Uruk-hai.”

Steve nodded, “Yes, I do. Merry and Pippin.” He could feel the Elf’s glare, but kept eye-contact with Aragorn. 

“Come with us,” Aragorn offered. “There are not many safe places now. If you are with us, and your friends know the story as well, they will be able to find you with us.” He smirked, “And you are obviously a man of skill. Perhaps you can be useful to us, even a little.”

In his chest, Steve’s heart was pounding a mile a minute. He had to fight down a grin, knowing that it would be inappropriate. Instead, he nodded, “Thank you. I would be… honored to join you. You’re not wrong about my friends, either.” 

Just like that, it was decided. Aragorn nodded once and clapped Steve on the shoulder before turning to his other companions. “We must make haste, we cannot spare another minute. Come, friends,” he smiled, as if to give them all hope, “let us run.”

Aragorn took off into the forest, Legolas hot on his heels. Gimli took off faster than Steve expected, though he did proclaim himself a “natural sprinter” in the movies that Tony forced him to watch. Steve took a moment to breathe, praying that this wouldn’t end in total catastrophe. He let himself smile, just a little, and took off into the woods.

[growingpaynes-art]

Far From Home Initial Review: What I Liked and What I Didn’t (Spoilers)

I saw Far From Home yesterday and jotted down some of my immediate responses, and then took some time to think on those points. I do intend to see the film again in the next few days and I may be adding to or amending this list.

Major spoilers below.

(CW: sexual harassment, victim blaming)

What I Liked:

That scene in the jet where Happy stitches Peter up was A+. Not just regarding the expert acting, but how the filmmakers decided to handle the scene. Peter’s fear, stress, and self doubt briefly shifts to anger, and he snaps at Happy for telling him to “relax.” He immediately apologizes, saying “i’m sorry, I shouldn't shout.” Happy in return responds by choosing his words more carefully. Happy then gives him a gentle and encouraging pep talk in which he recognizes Peter’s emotions, encourages him, and explains that he doesn’t need to live up to the legacy of Iron Man and that he only needs to do his best. He remains on task and pragmatic, but never rushes Peter or forces him to do anything he’s not comfortable doing, offering support all the while. 

Peter is allowed to cry at several points throughout the film in front of other male characters, including Nick Fury and Happy. He is never judged for this and he is never made to feel like his emotions are unreasonable or invalid. Continuing this from the previous films even as Peter gets older and takes on more responsibilities further normalizes male emotion in action films. 

Peter consistently voices his concerns and asks for help instead of overwhelming himself and internalizing.

Peter was noticeably shorter than MJ in most of their scenes together, including where they kiss or hold hands. Peter’s height is never made into the butt of a joke, which I had feared might happen. No one even mentions it. Marvel did have Tom wear shoes that made him a little taller than he actually is, but I do appreciate that they didn’t drastically increase his height like they always did to RDJ. 

JK Simmons returning as J Jonah Jameson was a great surprise, and it gives me hope that we may yet see Peter as a photographer

Peter walking out from behind that car carrying a sign and a light as a reference to Steve wielding the shield and mjolnir.

Peter calling his dick his “webshooter”

MJ stepping in and providing some real help several times throughout the movie 

The movies on the flight to Venice “Heart of Iron: The Tony Stark Story,” “Chasing Hydra” etc

The terribly edited movie maker tribute set to “I Will Always Love You” with “in memoriam” in comic sans was the funniest possible way to open the film

Bucky being included in the Thank You Avengers collage in the Midtown Tech news video

Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell were definitely dating and i’m here for it. 

Seeing Peter fight without a suit was cool. I’ve always thought there was a kind of disconnect when characters like spiderman or black panther fight with their masks on, like they feel separate from the actors. But seeing Peter fight in his civilian clothing made it feel more real to me that this kid really has these powers and can do all these amazing flips and feats of strength. It also let us see more of his creativity and quick thinking.

I’m impressed that they were able to make Mysterio’s mo-cap suit look cool instead of completely ridiculous like they do in real life.

Peter closing his eyes and fighting the drones with his spidey-sense to avoid the illusions was so badass. 

The violence felt real. Every time Peter got hit, the audience felt it. Several times he was unable to stand up, he limped and winced and cried. It felt like the consequences of such heavy action were realistically considered when Peter couldn’t just pop back up and shake it off. 

"If you were better, maybe Tony would still be alive” “You’re just a scared little kid in a sweatsuit” 

“You got me?” “I got you.”

“lets get a drink” “i’m- i’m not 21.”

Peter going to a parent figure wearing an oversized shirt and crying while confessing his self-doubts was an oddly specific parallel that i didn’t expect to get again but i’m certainly not complaining

What I Didn’t:

The “rest stop hookup” scene was deeply inappropriate. Peter, a child, is commanded to undress in front of an adult female agent. He initially resists but is intimidated into compliance when she repeats the order. One of Peter’s classmates, Brad, walks into the room and Peter is literally caught with his pants around his ankles with an adult stranger. Brad makes the assumption that Peter is hooking up with her, and takes a photo for evidence with the intention of showing it to MJ in order to ruin Peter’s “chance” with her. Peter is blamed for a situation in which he is the victim, and the audience is meant to find this entire scene funny. Instead of what could have been a really cool scene in which this agent presents the new suit she’s made for Peter, we are given this very uncomfortable scene of sexual harassment played for laughs.

Peter and Brad competing for MJ’s affection and actively sabotaging each other is unnecessary. 

The use of old footage from previous films was lazy, especially when Marvel could have easily recreated those scenes from the perspectives of the new antagonists. I’ve always found this distracting, especially when the quality noticeably drops between two clips, though this is more of a personal peeve than anything I see as a legitimate problem.

The list of characters who become villains because they feel personally or indirectly slighted by Tony and Howard is getting too big. Honestly I think it’s lazy to keep using that as backstory/motivation for new villains after over 10 years, especially now that Tony isn’t even alive.

The multiverse being made up by Beck was disappointing.

The monsters being the Elementals instead of Sandman or Hydroman was also disappointing.

I wish that the spidey-sense was represented by some creative audio or visual cue, like the goosebumps in iw or the ringing noise in spiderverse

There were several lgbt characters/actors on the class trip but they weren’t very visible. You really don’t notice them at all unless you were aware of who was cast beforehand and were watching closely for them. I’m not asking for Peter to swing through new york with a rainbow flag screaming “trans rights” but I would have liked to have seen a queer couple holding hands or a student with a trans patch on their backpack or something. I had been hoping for Peter to actually interact with one of them, to refer to them by name. Obviously having such a diverse cast with queer characters being played by actual queer actors is a huge step up from Joe Russo’s “grieving man” but like that shouldn’t be where the bar is at this point. 

Tbh the headstone and zombie iron man were cliche, and i think it would have been much more impactful if Mysterio had made an allusion of Tony himself instead.

Why would Dr Strange not be available to fight massive elemental monsters from another dimension bent on consuming the earth like dude make yourself available??

I wish the new suit included Karen so that we could see how she and Peter’s interactions have changed now that he is expertly familiar with the functions of the suits. Additionally, the spider-drone would have been cool to see again.

The illusion to Uncle Ben with the “BFP” initials on Peter’s suitcase was great but I do wish we could get some actual information about him. We don’t need to see his death or the “with great power comes great responsibility” speech- we’ve already seen that enough times- but a little clarification on what officially happened to him in the mcu would be interesting. 

Honestly I thought it was too convenient that May, Happy, and all of Peter’s closest friends also dusted. I had wanted to see how interactions between Peter and May or friends such as Ned would be tested emotionally due to the five-year gap.

The BARF tech being invented by Beck and stolen by Tony detracts from it being used in Civil War to establish Tony’s feelings about Howard and Maria’s murders. If it isn’t Tony’s invention, that takes the heart out of it. 

I had really hoped that the glasses were going to end up revealing Tony as an AI, or at least some kind of message from him, and i thought was weird that Tony would give Peter access to a system that allows him to order drone strikes on his classmates.

Also...  so the drone strike on peter’s bus was faked by Mysterio’s team because they needed to get the EDITH glasses from Peter? Because the EDITH glasses give them access to the satellite that deploys the drones? But they already have the same drones? and use one them to fake the bus attack? so why do they need EDITH? Maybe i missed something but that makes no sense to me. 

[iridescentanachronism]

calum + a coffeeshop run-in

Hello folks! I am back again to wreck havoc (by wreck havoc i mean write a mediocre at best + way too long oneshot LOL) so I hope no one minds! I am in love with Calum Hood so idk i thought i’d write this cute fluffy piece! This is an OC I might use her again, and the two don’t meet till the end but its very fluffy! If you’re not a fan of slow burn this probably isn’t the drabble for you. Anywho! Thank ya for the support on the last fic and constructive criticism is MORE than welcome!!! Love ya <3

WC: 1914 

As the soft sunlight poured into the coffeehouse, she let a small smile grace her face; a steaming cafe au lait was sitting to the right of her favorite novel, It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini. The warm brick walls were covered with blankets of thick ivy and the familiar barista sent her a wave as he grinned at her seat of choice. Every Saturday morning she, as gracefully as possible, plopped her bag down onto the corner table next to the large window, and proceeded to order the exact same thing as the week before. The habit had evolved into more of a tradition for her and the employees, and all parties involved looked forward to it every week. Of course, however, not everyone knew of her tradition. All of the regulars looked at her with familiarity, however, Calum Hood was not a regular. 

He first spotted her on Saturday the third, he would never forget the date. After becoming overwhelmed with the stress of the studio he had popped out for a smoke and ended up in the cozy joint, not anticipating the beautiful girl humming in the corner. He noticed how the pages of her book had been dog-earred, spine worn, and the cover had shown marks that could only be a result of love. He noticed the way her thick brown hair laid perfectly over her shoulders, and the way her hazel eyes began to moisten while she read. He knew that he wasn’t the only person whose breath had been taken by the polished young woman. Whilst Calum took his time adoring the woman who he had deemed no less than an angel, the boys continued to work, and eventually his brief solace had to come to an end. After receiving his drink, he considered introducing himself, but he knew he didn’t have much time before his absence would go from being a mere annoyance to a menace, so he swore to go back on the next Saturday, hoping that her visit was a habit. 

Calum had never felt as though the days passed by slowly, his schedule was always packed and the bassist had little time to dedicate to anything other than his craft. Typically, he would be grateful for the daily recording sessions, long days of interviews, and time to perfect his abilities; this week, however, Calum yearned for the time to pass more quickly. He busied himself with every possible task in an effort to distract himself from the memory of the woman who had entranced him. No, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”, but he did know that he was drawn to this girl in a way he had never felt before. He had purchased a copy of the novel that she appeared to adore, and after starting it he had realized why her eyes misted at the cafe; it was a gut wrenching story of perseverance in its most raw form. After reading a few chapters, he proceeded to clean his kitchen, do a load of laundry, tune his bass, attempt to write, and make himself lunch, Calum had about had it. It was only eleven in the morning on Wednesday, how the hell was he supposed to last until Saturday? He allowed his mind to wander into a dangerous territory; he began to build a backstory for the beauty. He decided she must be a quiet introvert who preferred to go at her own pace than follow another's, that's why she spent her Saturday morning alone and in peace, rather than surrounded by friends or family. 

After a long day of bussing tables, Theo unceremoniously threw herself onto the couch in the backroom. It had been a busy Friday night at the restaurant she worked at, a scene that she knew far too well from her years of working there.  She allowed herself three minutes, no more and no less, to rest before her short trip home. She was simply so exhausted that even the drive to her home had seemed daunting. After her time-out had ended, she quickly wished a goodnight to her coworkers and walked to her car. She faced almost no traffic on her car ride home (as she had expected, as she clocked out at 11:03pm), and made her way into her cozy apartment. After saying hello to the attendant at the desk downstairs, she scurried up to the third floor to complete her nighttime routine and jump into her familiar bed. Before allowing herself to fade into sleep, she rolled over and made sure to set her alarm for nine; it was simply tradition that she made it to her coffeeshop before the eleven o’clock rush. 

On Saturday morning Calum was buzzing with excitement. Duke’s “walk” appeared to be more of a speed walk today, and Calum’s shower was about five minutes shorter than usual; his hair routine, however? Roughly 15 minutes and approximately eight curses longer. He could not wrap his head around the gut feeling he had all week: the stunning girl would be back today, and Calum would approach her. The plan seemed simple enough, being that he had not made one yet. Calum, or “Cool Guy Cal” as he demanded people call him, thought he would be able to come up with a smooth one-liner as he approached the girl he could not get off his mind. He gave Duke a quick kiss on the head before grabbing his car keys, asking fate to give him this one chance with the girl he couldn’t forget. 

Theo woke up well before her alarm, she set it every Friday night hoping that her work sleep schedule would magically wear off and she would be able to sleep past six, but her plan never worked. She padded around her apartment in her ex’s large tee shirt and fed her goldfish, Samuel, while affectionately murmuring that he was the best choice she’d ever made. She tidied up the house and began her morning routine, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and pulling her unlawful curls out of her eyes with a few clips. She sighed at the dark circles underneath her eyelids, but hadn’t thought enough about them to bother with makeup. She grabbed her day bag, untouched from the week before, and happily trotted out of her complex. The walk to the cafe had always been her favorite part of her trips, the birds chirping and the bright sun spreading across her skin could turn any day into a good one. Her green maxi skirt brushed along her legs as she confidently strutted down the same route she took every Saturday morning. She walked with her shoulders back and head held high; unknowingly carrying an aura of professionalism and class. The young woman hadn’t realized that she appeared so poised before she moved to the Golden State. Far more people than she could count had complimented her for her stature since she moved, and she had just about had it with strangers approaching to compliment her “vibe”. During her tenure in Los Angeles, Theo had realized that everything here was curated to be seen by others. Simply, in LA people believed that every aspect of one’s life was meant to be on display, and therefore, little things like one’s strut down the street and the amount of rings on their hand translated to their worth and opinions. She continued her trot down the road, ignoring the looks being sent her way and instead focusing on the cafe au lait and comforting text that she knew awaited her. 

Before Calum left his car, he made sure to triple check his appearance. He wore what he believed to be his best shirt (Ashton agreed with him, so he knew it wasn’t a mistake), left his curls a little messy, and made sure he had absolutely nothing in his teeth, despite the fact that he hadn’t yet consumed anything. He jumped out of the car and walked briskly to the ivy covered walls, a warm feeling began to spread in his chest as he swung open the doors and glanced around the cafe. The feeling dissipated quickly when he realized that the girl he had ventured out for was, in fact, not there. He ordered his drink of choice and sat at a table near a window before huffing in frustration, but he had nothing to lose at this point, so once his number was called he rose to pick up his drink and enjoy the serene cafe he had found himself in. 

The little bell jingled above Theo’s head as she walked into the place she had grown so familiar with, her face still felt hot from the merciless Los Angeles summer she had walked through, and it was her absolute favorite feeling. The long skirt fluttered around her calves as she walked up to the counter to say hello to the baristas that she now called her friends, and they began working on her drink without even asking what she would like. She went to take her usual place in the secluded corner by the window, and while walking over noticed a breathtaking man sitting two tables away from her spot. Her breath hitched in her throat and she shot him a soft smile as she took her rightful place. 

My God. I could wake up to that smile everyday. Calum thought to himself in awe. He quickly curved up the sides of his mouth to send her (what he hoped was) a sweet grin in return. He quickly shook the previous thought out of his head, knowing it was more than irrational and inappropriate since he had yet to even learn the girls name. He watched as the man who took his order walked over to her table with a bemused smile, they chatted briefly and it became quite obvious to Cal that his hunch had been correct, she does come here every Saturday morning. Zach, the barista, had left her table with a laugh and returned with a big mug. After straining to hear Calum heard the girl release a melodic giggle paired with a genuine thank you for the server. Zach mockingly bowed to her and said, with an exaggerated wink, “anything for you, Princess Theo”. Ignoring the spark of jealousy that ignited when Calum heard the pet name, he felt more gratitude for Zach than he could ever imagine. Theo. Theo fit the young woman perfectly; a greek name meaning “divine gift”. With this newfound information Calum felt the surge of confidence he needed, he approached the table in the corner with a bit of nerves in his tummy. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Calum, I was just wondering if this seat is taken?” He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but Calum may have thickened his accent a bit in an effort to woo the girl. She already had him wrapped around her finger, at this point he needed every advantage he could get. He watched in adoration as her face flushed bright pink, and she sputtered out a greeting of her own, “Oh! Um- hi I’m Theo it’s nice to meet you as well, no-no, the seat isn’t taken.” From the second that Calum slid into the chair across from her, Theo knew he would be nothing but trouble, and in the years to follow she would learn that while he was troublesome, he was so much more.

[shauds-archived]

Impulse + Talia?

Was going to do Ras and Talia thing, but it wasn’t working out so I fell back on Talia and Jason, and it got a little long. Thanks for your request! :)

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

Talia al Ghul finds a boy stealing the Batmobile’s tires, she leaves him, trusting that Bruce will handle it. Then she finds the boy escaping from his school. Why she didn’t leave him there too, she’ll chalk up to impulse.

Or, the one where Talia kind of adopts Jason before Bruce.

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

Later, she’ll chalk it up to impulse. Both her spontaneous visit to the City of Gotham, and the events that had transpired thereafter.

Meeting with the detective hadn’t been her plan, she’d just mean to check in, after troubling news that his partner had been killed and Richard outside of the public sphere for the time being. That the visit fell on the anniversary of his parent’s death was just happenstance. That she came across the car, the Batmobile as named by that insufferable boy, before she came across The Batman himself, even more so.

Bruce isn’t there, and she would leave it, continue her search for him elsewhere, if not for the fact that someone else is. At first she thinks it might been his Robin, but the child is much, much too small. And she very much doubts Richard was young enough still for such childish pranks.

It doesn’t take more than a glance at the child’s worn clothing, too slight build and cautious, hyper vigilant disposition for her to determine that he is either an urchin, or one of those for whom living care-givers make very little difference.

Already, one of the tires is missing, and as Talia, watches, too baffled by the sight to end it, he makes short work of the second. She waits for the security systems to engage, for Bruce to appear and halt the boy’s progress. Neither happens and the little vandal makes off with a second tire. And has the gall to come back for a third minutes later, twirling his tire iron and partly skipping as though he isn’t in the process of attempting to rob one of the most powerful men alive, like he isn’t coming back instead of settling with what he has already taken.

She’s acting on an impulse when she follows him, curious about where he thinks he can hide his prize’s from the bat, and then, about whether the small child will be able to get the tire up the fire escape and just how someone that young has learned such a diverse variety of vulgar language.

Small, but cleaner than she’d imagined it to be. There are poster’s covering over the larger stains marring the walls, the hovel’s only furnishings are a shelf piled with the tatters of what had once been books, the likes of Tolstoy and Kafka sitting innocuously besides children’s books, some pages written by hand, a small collection of audio tapes, and a framed photograph of a woman that Talia lifts for better inspection. It’s old, and the young woman bares the boy little to no resemblance. Merely a decoration perhaps and the worn smooth edges of the frame are from age.

When the boy returns, it’s sans a fourth tire, straining for breath and with the Batman following covertly at his heels. The child doesn’t see her exit, but she knows Batman does. He’s too busy fending off an attack by the child demanding he leave to come after her, and Talia can’t help but chuckle at the tenacity of the small boy right up until he’s effortlessly lifted up by his arm, any threat he’d posed nullified.

Hopeless though the fight is, there are many in the League of Shadows who could learn from that sort of persistence. If all of Gotham’s children possess that fighting spirit, perhaps there’s more to Bruce’s insistence on continuing to give his soul for the city.

O

O

O

’What’s the leagues interest in that boy?’

Talia’s brushing her hair out when she answers the phone call to her hotel room

”What a greeting, Beloved, I’m sure I don’t know what it is you’re speaking of.” Talia’s sets her brush aside and pulls her still damp hair over one shoulder tucking the phone between her chin and the other. “Perhaps if you were more specific?”

’Jason Todd.’ His voice is clipped, tight, not in a playful disposition then. ’The boy who tried to steal my tires.’

“Ah, and very nearly bested you in battle?” Talia chuckles and moves to looks out of the window at the sparkling city lights. “None that I’m aware off, I merely found his gall to be entertaining. I must ask, are all children in this city quite so precocious or was this boy an irregularity?”

The other side of the line is silent for a few moments it takes him to decide whether or not she’s being truthful, she takes the time to look at the spaces between the bright lights, at the shadows her beloved hides himself within while he protects this city. The shadows where most of its inhabitants dwell, out o reach of the light.

’We both know this isn’t your typical vacation destination, what are you doing here then?’

“Nothing of worth.” Talia shook her head, turning from the window, it was debatable whether anything of worth could be done for this city. “Not unless you would be inclined to suggest such an activity.”

There’s a snort and she can picture the put upon frown dragging down his lips. ’Goodnight Talia.’

“For the sake of my curiosity, what is it you’ve done with the boy.” She asks before he can end the call. “Are you scouting for Richards replacement so soon? You realize he’s need more training than your previous protégé at that age.” She hasn’t found any evidence that rumors of Robin’s passing are any more than rumors, but his lack of a presence may be due to something else entirely, and there’s no guarantee he’ll be returning to Gotham in the near future.

‘I dropped him off at a boy’s school.’ He sighs and there’s a burst of movement induced static, before he warns, ’But I’ll know if the league tries anything.’

”Of course, sleep well Beloved.” Talia returns the receiver to its cradle and pulls on a cord to turn off the lights, and then she gathers up the covers and rests against her pillows, where she lies, mulling over the night’s events until she falls to sleep. Her last though is of handwritten pages taped to worn books.

O

O

O

Early the next morning, before the sun rises, for no reason she can discern and no prior planning, Talia stops by Park Row before boarding the jet waiting to take her from Gotham.

The school where Bruce took the boy seems normal enough at a first glace. Like all the others of its kind, it doesn’t appear particularly comfortable, but there is bedding, an eating hall, facilities that all seem to be in order. Compared to where he’d been when her beloved had found him, the boy should have been grateful for the shelter and sanitation the place provided at the very least.

Why then is he making an escape out of the attic window?

She raises an eyebrow at the slight boy scrambling gingerly down the wall, right up until he drops down the last two floors and hits the ground with a jarring thump. Amid a litany of curses, he stands and brushes the gravel from his trousers, the same grime stained pair he’d been wearing the previous day.

If he goes missing now, Talia doubts Bruce would believe the league had nothing to do with it. Closing her suddenly tired eyes for a moment, Talia signals her driver to wait, then gets out of the car.

He’s stomping down an alleyway, still muttering to himself when she catches up with him.

“One would think a child in your position would be more grateful.”

”What the…!” He spins around, swinging a thin iron bar, but as soon as his eyes actually land on her, he trips over his feet in an attempt to keep the blow from hitting, a move that would have been unsuccessful had she not stepped from its path. He squawks as he falls to the ground in an undignified heap.

”Especially considering the fact that you’re likely to die traversing a sidewalk.” She shakes her head as he tries to pick himself up, she grabs hold of his arm and his sucks in a low breath when she pulls him to his feet. “I’ll return you to the school.”

”You with him?” he doesn’t wait for her answer before he yanks himself out of her grip and spins again to face her. “Like hell you will!” Talia has to work not to flinch at the bruising that mars his face. Fresher than anything he could have gotten before the previous night, the marks, green and dark purple both, continue down the collar of his shirt, to the bloody knuckles gone part-white from his grip on the bar. He notices her inspection and raises the bar defensively. “Try and take me back, I dare ya!”

”Batman will be displeased when he returns for you and finds you’ve disappeared.” She folds her arms and levels her gaze with his instead of on the bruising. She would have thought Bruce would have put more thought into who’s care he left the child in.

”Batman can screw himself, he’s just like the all the rest o’ em, adults.” The boy practically spits out the word, like it’s deadly poison, his whole face twisting into a scowl. “What, he wants ta keep up the supply of crooks or someth’n with that place? Well I’m out, I aint gonna learn to be no crook, no fuckin way, ‘specially not with that batty old crone.”

She keeps her expression blank and doesn’t comment on his inappropriate language. ”And you believe attempting to steal the tires of the Batmobile is less than criminal behavior?”

”Tires, not fucking museum exhibits like those assholes, and I don’t do it for shits and giggles lady; I just boost what it takes to survive. Car like that, he can prolly afford a couple new ones anyways.”

His scoff is high pitched in his frustration and stuff his hands in the pockets of his vest, when he turns his expression back on her; it’s more resigned than anything else. “You’re gonna call no matter what I say, aint ya?”

Talia doesn’t reply immediately, instead, she takes a breath and considers his question. Surely, her beloved would prefer having this child out of harm’s way for a time. There’s no reason he wouldn’t be more put upon by Talia removing him from the school than he would were she to remove him to a less hostile location, but where is the question.

Apparently her silence goes on too long. “Figures.” The boy huffs and starts tracing circles in the gravel with the tip of his sneaker. His posture betrays nothing other than resignation for whatever fate she decides for him.

It’s very convincing.

Then he tries to run away again and she has to grab a fistful of the grungy fabric behind his neck and press him up against the wall to keep him in place.

”Aw, come on!” He screams, throwing all of his not-considerable body weight into the twisting and pulling he does to escape her hold, his cursing a steady accompaniment to his struggles. None of it works of course, but it carries on for a good five minutes before his voice has gone too hoarse for and he has to focus more on his breathing than anything else. The technique is sloppy and he’s too weak for there to be any other outcome, but with a good training regiment and diet, there’s a good chance it might be developed. Not one of the people passing by stop to investigate, most don’t even spare a glance down the alley and those that do only cross the street.

”If you’re quite done.” Talia says once he’s gone silent, and he fixes her with a glare that borders on murderous, but doesn’t speak. She loosens her grip enough that he can set his feet back on the ground, but she doesn’t release him entirely on the very likely chance that he will attempt another escape. “You’ll be wise to watch your language from this point onward; such vulgarity will not be tolerated.”

Defiantly, the boy tries to jerk himself out of her hold in reply. Talia bites back on her a smile and turns him to start walking, keeping a tight hold on both his shoulders. Defiance can be unlearned, but the stubbornness and determination it is born of can be harnessed under the right conditions.

”’ll just bolt again later.” He mutters under his breath as he walks, once the school is in their line of sight, his shoulders sag and he cranes his head to look at her. “C’n ya at least tell Batman they’re gonna rob the museum tonight? Stuff’s old an they’re a buncha dumbasses who got no idea how to take care of it an ‘ts not like ya can just replace whatever they ruin in there. ‘S important.”

”I’ll have it dealt with.” She says. The tension in his shoulders returns bit-by-bit the closer they get to the school, and he drags his feet more. Talia increases the strength of her grip, a warning in case he thinks about running again, until they’ve passed it.

”Wait, the school.” When he tries to pull away from her this time, it’s to try looking past her, at the building they’re leaving behind them. “Where the fuck’re ya…”

”Your language Jason.” She warns and he almost stills at her use of his name, but she keeps him walking.

”How…?” He takes another look at the school before they turn away from it and start heading for the side of the road where Talia’s driver is waiting. “Did he tell ya? Hey, c’mon lady, I won’t run again, kay.”

”Even were I to believe that, you will be better off in my care than that woman’s.” The driver opens the door, not so much as batting an eye at his new passenger.

”We goin’ to Batman’s place?” Jason frowns, his brows furrowed, but he slides hesitantly into the car, with moving far enough towards the door so that she can slide in besides him.

”No you’ll remain with me until such a time that The Batman inquires of your whereabouts so that I may inquire of his planning capabilities.” As she says it, she again takes in the bruises splashed across the boy’s skin.

”’N if he doesn’t?” The boy’s brought his knees up to his chin, it’s good that the high quality leather is strain resistant, or the grime coming off his shoes would have been irreparable. She’ll have to find him something else to wear before they reach the jet.

”He’s made it clear he will.” She signals the driver to continue to their destination. “And he’ll likely put more thought into where he places you once he does.”

”Yeah sure he will.” Jason scoffs again, and turns his gaze to the window and the passing city with a petulant pout. “Big boob.”

Talia hums, but doesn’t find the insult harsh enough to scold him. She’s not sure where she’d going to take the boy once they’re on the place, or what exactly she’s going to do with him after that. It’s an impulsive decision and her planning shows for that, but it’s no matter, she’s confident she’ll have some sort of plan once she needs one. Her Beloved had warned the league off from the child, not Talia herself and she intends to return him if Bruce requests it. If he requests it. For now, she has some orders to issue regarding a museum.

[thisdanobrien]

I Had Some Thoughts About the Tony Awards

Here’s a thing you might not know about me: I can’t honestly remember the last time I haven’t watched the Tony Awards. I know it’s not for everyone, but I love it and it’s my very favorite awards ceremony. The social media era usually makes watching the Tony’s tough, because almost every single year the Tony’s are scheduled the same night as a crucial NBA Finals game, and both are equally important to me (I’m a very specific kind of person). I usually TiVo one while watching the other and avoiding social media entirely. This year, thankfully, Kevin Durant, J.R. Smith and the Warriors wrapped up their series in four and I didn’t have this problem.

You might not have watched the Tony’s, which is fine, but you most likely know about the thing that happened that made and continues to make headlines: Robert De Niro said “Fuck Trump,” twice. Do we have a clip?

[We DO]

Lots of people are saying lots of things about this. There’s the typical, disingenuous articles from the right, where they holler and clutch their pearls at such profanity (while hypocritically either justifying or wholesale ignoring similar bouts of profanity from the president/members of his administration). You’ve also got a lot of people on the left complaining too. This comes from an OpEd from Frank Bruni:

“When you answer name-calling with name-calling and tantrums with tantrums, you’re not resisting him. You’re mirroring him. You’re not diminishing him. You’re demeaning yourselves.”

It’s a variation of the “when they go low, we go high” refrain that the left wants to claim as its identity in an ideal world where things are equal and people behave normally. (And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.)

There are still different people on the left who look at OpEds like that and retweet them with comments similar or identical to “If you think it was inappropriate for De Niro to say ‘Fuck Trump,’ well then guess what? FUCK YOU.”

These are people who are as frustrated as they are passionate, and maybe they’re jaded by the lack of success they’ve experienced in the Higher Ground strategy. Maybe they think the “they go low, we go high” thing would only work under normal circumstances, and the circumstances aren’t normal so we need to adjust. Or maybe they don’t think any of that, and they just enjoy the catharsis of saying, hearing or watching a famous movie badass say “Fuck Trump” to the sound of near-unanimous applause. (And I suppose I’m pretty fine with those people too?)

But, I guess, here’s my thing. The Tony’s was already a “Fuck Trump.” It was tough and loud and somehow still elegant and understated but most definitely a “Fuck Trump.” Let’s talk about a lot of things (but really only just one thing).

Back in January, President Trump was quoted asking “Where’s my Roy Cohn?” It was a rhetorical question, obviously, because Roy Cohn is quite dead, but what the president likely meant was “Where’s the guy who is going to make my problems disappear while making me look good and clean in the process?” The president was in trouble, and in the past, Roy Cohn was the guy who made the trouble go away. He also saw Roy as a mentor, and you can see how much Donald Trump appreciates Cohn by the way he handles himself, in that brash, throwback-tough-guy, New Yorker sort of way.

A bit about Roy.

Roy Cohn was an attorney who among other things was the personal attorney/fixer for Donald Trump during his early business days. Here are some of those “other things” he did:

-Worked closely with McCarthy during the Red Scare, a bizarre quest to find and remove people they believed to be secret communists in Hollywood and Washington DC (a smokescreen to advance their own agenda through threats and intimidation, capitalizing on the nationalist, anti-communist spirit in America at the time). -Worked as hard as he could to get the death penalty for Julius and Ethel Rosenberg (it is largely the consensus of historians and legal experts that Julius and Ethel were “guilty AND framed,” and certainly did not deserve the death penalty). -The Lavender Scare. It’s very similar to the Red Scare, it just didn’t get nearly the same amount of coverage (even though it harmed way more people). It involved Cohn and McCarthy successfully pushing for the mass firings of government officials suspected of being gay. Smear campaigns, intimidation, threats, etc. Fire the gay people, and threaten to “out” and ruin anyone who got in your way.

That’s Roy Cohn. That’s Donald Trump’s mentor. And so, in January, during whatever scandal the president happened to be going through at the time, President Trump asked “Where’s my Roy Cohn?”

This year, the Tony’s had an answer. The proudly out Nathan Lane who plays Roy Cohn in Angels in America, welcomed his Tony win by kissing his husband and closed his acceptance speech by tearfully thanking him as his “greatest blessing.”

A bit about Nathan.

It’s been a strange road for Nathan Lane. At 21 when he told his mother he was gay, she said “I’d rather you were dead.” He wasn’t necessarily in the closet, but he dodged questions about his sexuality for years and didn’t publicly come out until 1998 following the murder of Matthew Shepherd (a young, gay man who was tortured and beaten to death in Laramie). A mother says “I’d rather you were dead.” Then you spend years hiding yourself from the world. Then a 21-year-old gets murdered for being gay. Then you come out. Fast forward, you kiss your husband before accepting the Tony Award for Best Actor for your portrayal of Roy Fucking Cohn. Strange road.

Do you know what a “Fuck you” to Donald Trump looks like? It’s out-and-proud Nathan Fucking Lane winning a fucking Tony Award for playing Roy Fucking Cohn in Tony Fucking Kushner’s Angels in A-Fucking-Merica.

When you’ve got a Vice President who thinks you can electrocute gay people into straightness, a gay man playing Roy Cohn (Roy Fucking Cohn!) and getting a fucking award for it is a massive and eloquent “Fuck you.”

(Also, student survivors of the Parkland shooting came out to sing “Seasons of [Fucking] Love” from fucking Rent [super gay] in the middle of the show. De Niro’s “Fuck Trump” was not just the ugliest condemnation of the administration, i t was also the tamest.)

I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this. I don’t actually think it matters that Robert De Niro said “Fuck Trump” at the Tony’s, by which I mean, I don’t think any Trump voters who were watching the Tony’s (lol) watched De Niro say “Fuck Trump” and realized “Hey, he’s got a point! I’m gonna vote for the Democrat next time!” in the same way that I don’t think any Democrats or lefties who watched De Niro say “Fuck Trump” would then decide “Oh, that’s so vile and vulgar; that’s it, I’m voting for Trump next time.”

I guess I think of the existence of the Tony’s at all in a time like this as a political statement. We’re living in a pretty scary time right now, and instead of retreating or hiding, a bunch of insanely talented and bizarrely underpaid people put on Once on This Island, The Band’s Visit, Angels in America and Children of a Lesser God and Three Tall Women and many others, eight fucking times a week and last Sunday they got to celebrate and perform for each other. It’s all a statement, and the statement was already “Fuck Trump.” I don’t think Robert De Niro took away from that, but I absolutely can’t fathom what he thought he was adding.

Anyways. Watch the Tony’s, support theater, be kinder to everyone around you and have a good day.