#literally once im done with enough tasks today i can just. go.

[ent-is-undecisive]

i need to go to the sea

[rdiowx]

FRANKENSTEIN FRANK IERO

Now posted on my ao3: Cndlewax

Frankenstein frank iero x gn! Reader

Ik i said this would be longer but I’ve been working on this for days and i actually dont know what i was going to do with it lmk if i should go on with the series

Now i when was trying to figure out which Frank era would fit Frankenstein i was thinking revenge so thats what i went with and is described here. However now that i think about it, Leathermouth and danger days wouldve been viable options (WHY DIDNT I DO DANGER DAYS IM LITERALLY SOBBING)

Reader is technically Frankenstein and Frank is Frankensteins monster, its like 1930s id like to think because of the 1931 Frankenstein movie, Reader is a mad scientist, Reader is lowkey kinda insane im not gonna lie (because who thinks of this kinda thing), Mikey shows up i just feel like he’s Frankensteins assistant Material, kind of detailed mention of limbs being sewn and stapled together, i mean technically Frank is put in an electric chair…, usage of Y/n,(i do plan on making this a series however if i do id probably move it to ao3 and it would be random chapters of teaching frank random things).

The village ‘mad scientist’ also known as Y/n, You had been rumored to be working on something for years, and you have. Today it should finally be done. You were currently hunched over your project, a man covered in staples, stitches and all sorts of other things. You make sure each limb is sturdy, sewing or stapling multiple times if you have to. When he comes to life —and you will make sure he will— you wouldnt want him to fall over. You need to make sure he can hold his body weight up. you are pulled out of your focus when you hear the lab door open, “I’ve brought good news.” Mikey exclaimed, holding a larger than average beaker in his hands.

You broke out into an extremely unsettling smile, Mikey only smiles back, used to your behavior having been friends with you since you were kids. “Did you get it Mikey?” You asked, at the edge of your seat, He only nods in response. You laugh and spin in your chair towards him, you grab and kiss his face enthusiastically. He playfully gags and wipes his face, having set the beaker down at your work table.

“What would i ever do without you Michael?” You exclaimed, Taking the beaker and quickly making your way to your experiment. Using your lab table to set him at a 90 degree angle you took the top of his head off, you needed to connect his brain stems. You needed to detach multiple places in order to do it, luckily you thought ahead and thought not to stitch these places before hand. Mikey made sure you had enough light to complete this task, holding a simple flashlight above your work area.

After attaching everything correctly you stapled and sewed, it would be a shame if all your hard work went to waste due to some poor patch job. You had been working on this for years, and finally you could finish it. You had done this once before, not anything near as big as this project, but on a salamander when you and Mikey were 16. The day you revived that salamander was the day you earned the ‘mad scientist’ title. “We’ve waited years for this Mikey, i dont think i possibly couldve gotten this done without you.” You said, wheeling over the machine that was going to bring your experiment to life. Mikey smiles proudly as you looked his way, quickly moving to your side as you waved your hand for him to come to you.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Mikey teased, smiling your way before putting his metal goggles —which you made to fit his glasses perscription because he complained about not being able to see every time— on for protection and stepping away from the now powered up machine. You only smile in response, putting your metal welding headgear on before pulling the last lever. The light from the electricity filled the room, you were sure any nosy civilian would be curious if they were outside right now. Turning off the machine you lift your headgear off before checking your experiment. Seeing his fingers twitch filled you with hope, a quiet groan filled your ears looking over, Mikey had a smug look on his face. You looked back towards the now living thing, His hazel eyes looking straight forward. “I feel like he needs a name, what are you thinking?” Michael asked, tilting his head before taking his goggles all the way off and setting them aside.

“Frank.” You replied simply, taking in the mans appearance.

He had a slight green discoloration, covered from head to toe in stitches and staples. you could see the stitches make indents and stretch his skin as well as with the staples, you were lucky he didnt have pain receptors or this would be a lot harder to pull off. A simple screw on the side of his head it was a decently sized one but not huge, maybe as big or slightly bigger than your hand. It was a screw that required a Phillips screw driver even though it was turnable by hand, his eyes had bags and his hair was greasy. His hair was nothing you had seen before, the sides were a light blonde and he seemed to have a mohawk but it was slicked down by the sheer amount of grease that had built up over the years and the front of his hair sat in the middle of his face. He was wearing an old suit you found in your closet, you dont know who it belonged to but you didn’t exactly care all that much. He looked to have had piercings from were you stapled his face, But it kinda fit him after all you could always fix it later. After a while you realized you would have to teach him how to do things again, he’s not what he once was. “Alright (Y/n), i have to go. Gerard is waiting for me to get back home and its getting dark.” Michael informed, hanging his lab coat on his designated hook by the door. “Be safe Michael, wouldnt want to lose my favorite lab partner.” You laughed, Michael rolled his eyes on the way out but not before shouting “im your only lab partner!” You could swear you could hear him mumble a quiet “Im your only friend at that.” Making you roll your eyes, you couldn’t be mad if he was right.

Now you were sat in your lab with your own creation staring back at you. ‘Lets see what you can still do.’ You thought to yourself before walking around to the still seated man. You lifted his arm to see if he could hold it up, He turned his head to face you and surprisingly he could, these are great signs. you sat in your spin chair and rolled your way to your clipboard that was on your desk. You needed to write stuff for your experiment down, right now you were the happiest you had been in years. You couldn’t suppress the slight smile on your face as you tested the staple covered man. After finishing your tests you wanted to move on to his speech, since you were the one who put him together you knew he was capable of doing so.

The only problem was you didnt know how, sure you knew how to talk but you didnt really know how to hold a conversation, if it wasn’t for Mikey you dont think you would talk at all if it wasn’t to yourself. Being the village scientist meant you were always in the lab, you hadn’t talked to anyone but Mikey or sometimes his older brother Gerard in years. You dont even remeber the last time you even left the lab, it was your house and Mikey did all of your errands. You supposed you could start with the basics, ‘hello’ or your name maybe even his. If you started with hello you’d have to explain what a greeting is, if you started with your or his name you might have to explain what a name even is and how to use it. You hadn’t noticed the man move from his spot, you were so busy staring off into space you didnt notice the prominent frown on your face as you stared at the wall. When you finally snapped out of it you panicked as you watched the man touch stuff on your lab table, almost spilling a tube of something before catching it and looking at you with guilt ridden face.

You quickly made your way to him, taking the tube out of his hand and putting it in its correct place. “Um, okay don’t- don’t touch anything on this table..got it?” You spoke, gently steering the man by his hand to sit at your desk chair. You pushed him into said chair maybe a bit rougher than you meant to, however he didnt seem to mind. “Okay.. your name is- can you talk?” You asked, you couldve maybe put in a little more effort but this was your first time doing anything like this. You only got a head tilt in response, it was like he could understand you but he couldn’t answer. You furrowed your eyebrows, Your reaction caused him to frown a little. “‘My name is Frank’ Can you say that?” You questioned, he could only get out ‘Frank’. It wasnt much but you could work with it after all you weren’t sure of what he was capable of, Sure he had human parts but he wasnt fully functional right now.

“Frank, frank is you.” You stated, pointing a finger towards him. “You?” He questioned, his index finger now pointing towards himself. You smiled before shaking your head, This caused Frank to smile as well however he looked sort of confused. You tried again pointing your finger towards him, “when i stick my finger out towards you it means ‘you’, when you stick your finger towards yourself it means ‘me’.” You stated, a look of realization crossed his face before he pointed to himself again. “Frank is me?” He asked, letting out a noise of what seemed to be happiness after you confirmed it. He was going to be trouble but you knew it was worth it, after all, you wanted this.

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part IX. (Harry Styles)

yall are gonna hate me for this but it needed to be done IM SORRY! also, i can’t believe valerie is ending this week, just one more part to go! can’twait to read your reactions and thoughts on this part, even though i know yall gonna be upset lmao

word count: 5.6k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Some days it truly feels like the universe has plotted against you to make every possible thing go wrong. As if it wants to see just how much you can take before breaking, experiment how long it can dance on your nerves before you end up one of those crazy people who shout at random strangers on the bus for no actual reason.

Starting the day you overslept awfully leaving you only ten minutes before you had to leave. In your hurry you ended up putting on socks that do not match and you were forced to buy a sandwich on your way as breakfast, but you promised you wouldn’t buy packed sandwiches for a reason, this one tasted like it’s been sitting on the shelf for weeks. Maybe it really has been. 

You made it to work successfully, but then you realized that you’ve left your notebook at home, the one that had quite a lot of important information you need for your work, so you spent your first hour at work emailing different people for things you should now, explaining that you just left your notebook at home. Some didn’t really give a fuck and just answered you normally, but others didn’t shy away from commenting that you should be more responsible and careful.

This alone gave just the perfect foundation for the day. It was all downhill from then. Your boss loaded twice as much work on you than usually, everything with close deadlines, throwing even more anxiety into the mix as if you didn’t have enough already. 

You met up with Marcus at lunch, but that didn’t go as planned either. It’s been getting more and more frustrating with him, the two of you have already had at least five fights this week and it’s only wednesday. It seems like even the smallest things push you over the edge these days and you easily pick a fight over anything. It didn’t happen differently this time either and by the time you got back to the office you were fuming. Worst part is that you always have a hard time ending a fight and tend to continue it through texts, the same thing happened today as well.

Now it’s a few minutes past five and you’re getting ready to go home, get changed and head to family dinner since today is Valerie’s first birthday, but even on the bus you’re still furiously typing away on your phone, sending a reply to Marcus, wanting nothing more than to throw the device right ot the window.

At one point you decide you’ve had enough. Turning your phone off you sink it into the depth of your bag and just try to focus on breathing, because even the smallest things seem to be hard tasks in such an upsetting state of mind. 

These past few weeks things have taken an absurdly wrong turn between you and Marcus and you don’t know what to do about the whole situation. Every night you go to bed thinking that you should just let go of him, would do a favor for the both of you, but then that stupid little voice in the back of your mind tells you that if you break up with Marcus it’s game over for you, you’ll spend the rest of your life alone. It all ends up with you violently holding onto the pieces of what’s left from your relationship and you’ve been trying to figure out where it went wrong, but you have absolutely no idea. 

After you changed into a pair of light washed jeans, a bright orange sweater and your black leather jacket it’s time for you to leave, though you already know you’ll be late. With a sigh deep you decided to turn your phone back on when you were sitting in the Uber, immediately deleting the notifications about the messages Marcus left you and going straight for the few ones from Rosa, your mom and Harry. They all arrived not too long ago asking when you’d be arriving, so you quickly typed your sorry and told them you’re on your way, you just got caught up at work. For Harry, you add something else too:

“Save me a seat and order me a tequila.”

His response came quickly.

“Done. Both.”

You let out a chuckle seeing his message. He knows you too well.

Walking into the small restaurant you don’t have a hard time spotting your family, three tables have been pushed together to make enough room in the back, taking up the small, kind of separated area of the place. Rosa smiles widely when she spots you, Valerie standing on her thighs, hands on the table as she is trying to snatch one of the glasses away, but her dad is pushing it further from her grasp.

“Sorry for being late,” you huff out and take the seat right next to Harry who watches you with a smile. “Well hello there, birthday girl! You’re so big now!” you babble at Valerie who giggles at you before her attention is averted once again.

You feel Harry’s elbow poking your side and turning to him you see him nod at the two shots on the table.

“Oh, fantastic. You’re drinking too?”

“No, I’m driving. Both for you.”

“If I didn’t have such a shitty day I would question what kind of alcoholic you think I am, but I kinda need both,” you sigh, taking the first one and downing it faster than ever. From the corner of your eyes you see your mother’s disapproving look, but you decide to ignore it for now.

“Wanna talk about it?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but you shake your head, the alcohol still burning your throat.

“Not now. Can you give me a lift home tho?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning back to the conversation at the table. 

You somehow succeed in putting everything that happened today behind and just focus on the time spent with your family. It helps that seemingly Harry works hard all evening to tell you about random things, just occupying your thoughts as much as he can. It’s nice to relax a little and forget everything that’s been weighing down on your shoulders recently. 

“It’s so crazy she is one already,” you sigh when you and Harry are walking to his car.

“Right? It makes me feel incredibly old,” Harry huffs as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket.

“How old are you even?” you ask laughing, realizing you don’t even know how old he exactly is. There are quite a few things, small details you’ve just never gotten around to find out about Harry.

“I’m turning 27 in February. Wild, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

“Yeah, you’re basically a grandpa,” you tease him and he narrows his eyes at you, but you can’t miss the little smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. 

“That makes you a grandma, because you’re turning 25 in April, don’t you?”

“You know when my birthday is?” It takes you by surprise, you don’t remember ever telling him when your birthday is.

The two of you reach his car and he clears his throat unlocking it. Seems like he doesn’t really want to answer, but your burning gaze on him kind of forces him into it.

“Uh, I do. I wanted to meet up with Steven last year the day you had your birthday party, but he said he had plans already. Tried to lure him into cancelling, but he didn’t even want to share where he was going. Then he admitted that it was your birthday party, but you told him and Rosa not to even mention it to me so I don’t show up.”

Your stomach drops hearing his version of a story you’ve only known from your own point of view. You remember that you indeed told them not to tell Harry about it, but now it seems like such a hate crime, when in real life, it was still when the two of you hated each other with passion. 

“I’m… Harry I’m sorry. That was--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles at you, starting the car. “We left it all behind, didn’t we?”

His smile seems genuine, but you still feel guilty for being such a bitch. It reminded you how much time and energy the two of you wasted for years hating each other when you could have been just like you are now. If only things happened in a different way…

Arriving at your building Harry parks the car and stops it. As the engine stops, the silence that’s been thickening the air just becomes even more obvious. He is waiting for you to say something about what’s gotten you so upset today, you know that, but you don’t feel like sitting around in his car.

“Want to come up for a little bit?” you ask and it’s a hidden message that you want to talk in the comfort of your own home. Luckily, Harry understands it right away and nodding he tells you to lead the way. 

You make some tea and the two of you sit on your couch, Harry is sitting sideways so he can see you while you bring your knees up to your chest, staring down at the mug in your hands.

“I had a fight with Marcus,” you quietly start.

“Oh.”

“And… it wasn’t the first time. We’ve been constantly fighting lately and I’m just… so tired of it.”

Saying it out loud for the first time, having someone listen to you brings you an odd sense of relief, and it doesn’t feel weird that you’re talking to Harry about all of it. He has proven himself to be a great listener.

“We’ve been fighting constantly, over the smallest things and my… my patience is running short, at this point.”

You’re talking slowly, carefully putting your thoughts into words, trying your best to interpret them for Harry after boiling them only in your own head for so long.

“I just… I have no idea what I should do.”

“It seems like the relationship is not making you happy anymore,” Harry softly speaks up and you have nothing to bring up against what he just said. “So why are you trying to continue it?”

You were expecting the question, you just knew he would ask it, but it still brings a painful, stinging sensation into your chest as you try to find the words to answer him. 

“Because…” you breath out and slowly turning your head, your eyes meet his gaze. “If I can’t make it work with him… then… who is it gonna be? There’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me, that he is literally my last choice, that if I mess this up it’s gonna be over for me.”

“Y/N, you know that’s not true,” Harry tells you tilting his head.

“Do I?” you chuckle bitterly, turning your gaze to the ceiling before you look back at him. “Because I don’t think I do. I’ve been literally feeling so miserable for weeks, yet I still can’t get me to move on, because I think I’m gonna die alone.”

“That’s not gonna happen, don’t say that. You’ll find the right person for you, you just… have to be patient.”

“But that’s the thing. I have lost my patience. I’m done, over it.” The tears form in your eyes in just a few seconds and the next thing you know is that you’re crying. “I’ve been trying so hard in my whole life, but somehow I always ended up… not being enough, or thrown away, stepped over, left behind. No matter what I did, I always ended up alone and I can’t help but notice a pattern in it. It has to be me, what else?”

“It’s not you, okay? You just had a few bad experiences.”

“Not a few,” you huff closing your eyes. “All of them are bad. I was… I was never enough for anyone and now that I found a guy that seemed to be just perfect… I’m ruining it.”

“I don’t think you’re ruining anything.”

“Then explain to me what’s happening, Harry!” you snap in despair and Harry stares back at you at a loss of words at first.

“Do you have feelings for him?” he then asks. You can’t answer right away and it tells him a lot.

“I… I’m not sure.”

“That sounded more like a no.”

“Okay, alright. No, I don’t. But… I could develop feelings eventually, couldn’t I?”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. You can’t just torture yourself hoping that one day you wake up and you’ll be in love with him. It’s not gonna happen and you’re just wasting your time.”

“How do you know it’s not gonna happen? What makes you so sure of that I will not end up alone?”

Harry stays quiet, her green eyes are staring right into your soul and for a moment you forget about your misery. This man alone holds such a power over you, it’s starting to scare you.

“I know it, because… I know you. And I see you. You’re literally the funniest girl I know, so easy to talk with, you always know when to crack a joke and when you have to be serious. You have so much love for others, you care about your loved ones and you’re always there for your friends and family. You make it so easy for others to get comfortable around you and you make everyone feel safe around you.”

You listen to him intently, drinking up every word that leaves his lips. Harry looks down at his hands as he continues.

“And you’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful, it always baffles me when I see you.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“It’s the truth,” Harry chuckles lightly, he brushes his knuckles together nervously. “Every time you walk in, you just… make everyone turn their head at you, and I always wonder if you even notice that. The way you walk, your smile, your laugh, Y/N, you make every man go crazy about you.”

“You’re just saying that because you are trying to cheer me up,” you sniff, wiping a few more tears away from your eyes.

“I’m definitely not,” he chuckles and his eyes finally find yours. “I remember when we first met.”

“When you walked in on me changing,” you sigh, the memories living vividly in your mind.

“Yeah. I remember how… breathless I felt when I saw you standing there, your dress handing a little on your frame because of the zipper. I forgot my name for a moment. I offered to help with the zipper because I just… wanted to touch you in any kind of way. So I knew that you were real.”

“Harry…”

“I know this sounds made up, but I’m telling you, this is the truth. And I know I didn’t act like that for a long time, but I always thought that you were an amazing person and I know that any guy would be so lucky and incredibly happy to be with you. I hate the thought of you thinking otherwise of yourself, when you are literally such a delight and… just a gift to all of us. I don’t know what’s really been going on between you and Marcus, but if he can’t see your worth and can��t make you feel like you deserve… he is not worthy of your time.”

You feel your throat closing up, but you’re not sure Harry knows the reason behind it when the tears start rolling down your cheeks again. 

Because it might look like his words touched you and made you tear up, but in reality, a bittersweet feeling has taken completely over you. If this is how he thinks about you, why did he act like that when he had the chance to be with you? Why didn’t he want you to stay? What did you do that made him want to throw you out?

It’s a spiral straight down and you can’t stop yourself from falling. Harry has always been the biggest mystery of your life, and now you’re just even more sure it was something you did or said that made him want to run. 

He reaches out and easily scoops you into his arms and you let him hold you tight, face buried into his chest. You hold onto his shirt as the silent cries escape your lips. You want him to want you. You want him to mean all those things he just told you, but you just can’t seem to move on from the past even though you’ve agreed to forget about it. It keeps bugging you in the back of your mind that no matter what he says, you weren’t good enough to make him want to stay with you when he had the chance. 

***

It doesn’t get better after that night. Harry stayed until after midnight, made sure you got into bed and told you he’ll check in on you the next day. And so he did. 

You felt guilty for loading all of it on Harry, so you decided it was the last time you ever talked about Marcus or your love life in general with him. You easily made yourself believe that he didn’t really care about it and he just listened to you because he was trying to be nice. It seemed the best to just try and forget about it all. 

For a while you were contemplating breaking up with Marcus, but you didn’t have the strength to do it, telling yourself you have to give it another chance and some more patience. However it’s ending up to be quite draining, you gotta admit, but you are starting to get used to feeling numb every day.

Rosa invites you over, because she went through her closet and found some stuff she thought you’d like, so you head over not long after you get home from work. She mentioned that Harry would be over watching some kind of football game with Steven, so you are not surprised to see his car parking on their driveway.

“Hi guys!” you greet them when Rosa lets you in, the game is already on so they just wave in your way, intently watching the TV.

“Come on, I have everything in the bedroom,” Rosa nods in your way and you follow her upstairs. Valerie greets you with a loud shriek as you walk in, she is sitting in her crib, surrounded with a bunch of toys, seemingly having a great time.

“Hi there, Princess!” you coo at her, caressing her cheek before you sit on the edge of the bed that’s filled with piles of clothes. “What’s the big sorting?” you ask, grabbing a cardigan and taking a look at it.

“I just have way too much stuff, can’t fit new stuff into my wardrobe, so I needed to sort it all out.”

The two of you go through everything and just catch up while you try on what you like. At the end, you are just sitting on the bed playing with Valerie. You can tell there’s something Rosa wants to share, but she seems reserved about saying it out loud.

“So, the other day we were talking with Steven about how crazy it is that Val is over one year old,” she starts, eyes glued to the little girl, handing her another building block as Valerie works on… whatever it’s going to be when it's finished.

“Yeah, that’s what we talked about with Harry after her birthday dinner. Makes us feel old,” you chuckle.

“Exactly,” she sighs chuckling. “So then we talked about, maybe… having another kid sometime soon.”

You perk up and looking at Rosa you see the shy smile on her lips and you gasp, but she shakes her head.

“I’m not pregnant,” she assures you, but then adds: “Not yet.”

“Oh my God, so you’re trying for another baby?” you whisper, even though there’s no chance of the guys hearing the two of you. You can hear the sound of the TV up here, they have no clue what you’re talking about.

“I mean, it can take some time, so we thought we could… start now.”

“That’s fantastic!” you breathe out, truly happy for your sister. You just know Valerie will be such a good big sister. “Val, you want a baby sister or baby brother?” you ask her and she looks at you with a serious expression, holding out one of the blocks.

“Baba!” she exclaims.

“Yes, baba!” you chuckle. She’s been learning kind of real words lately and it won’t take too long before she’ll be bossing around everyone in the house.

When it’s getting late you pack the clothes you choose and head down to leave. The guys are still on the couch, but Harry’s head perks up when he hears your footsteps.

“You want me to give you a ride?”

“Um, I’m fine, don’t want to bother you while the game is on.”

“It’s ending in five. If you can wait a little it’s alright.”

“Okay,” you nod smiling so instead of going to the front door you stop in the kitchen to wait for Harry.

Rosa puts Valerie into her high chair and gets a banana for her while you check your phone just when Marcus calls you. Hesitantly, but you answer it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi, just wanted to check in if the weekend is still on.”

“Uh, sure. It is.”

“Great. I’ll have to check again with my boss, but I think I’ll be able to pick you up.”

“Great. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, babe.”

The call ends and you find yourself facing a curious looking Rosa on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Marcus?” she asks and you nod. “How are things going?” You’ve only mentioned it to her that it’s been hard between the two of you, but you definitely didn’t go into details. Harry was the first and last person to hear the whole story.

“Um… neutral, I guess?”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“I know, but I’m just trying to figure it out. We are spending the weekend together, I hope it’ll help us to get a little more… settled? I guess, I don’t know,” you stammer, nervously fidgeting with your phone in your hands. 

“That’s nice, was it his idea?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good to know that Marcus is making the right attempts to smooth things out.”

“Attempts?” Harry’s voice makes both of you look in his way as he stands at the door, seemingly confused about what he just heard. “You’re still with Marcus?”

“Harry, I…”

“No, don’t try to explain it. I thought I talked sense into you last time.” He is clearly pissed, not holding back how upset he is to get the news that you are still dating Marcus. But on the other hand you can also feel yourself getting angry how he tries to control your life.

“You did, but I never said I’ll break things off with him.”

“Well, it surely sounded like you made up your mind,” he huffs.

“Well, I didn’t,” you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

“What the fuck, Y/N! You can’t keep doing this to yourself!” he snaps gesturing in your way. “I thought we were over this!”

“We? What do you mean we?” you grimace and now you are raising your voice as well. “Harry, there’s no we! This is my relationship and it’s nice that you care, but you can’t tell me what to do!”

Harry is vivid. He needs everything in him not to burst right then and there and for a moment you think he’s gonna just explode. But when he speaks up again his voice is quiet, however you can feel all the anger and frustration behind it.

“Get in the car, we’re leaving.”

“What?”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/N!” he barks making you jump. Rosa and Steven, who arrived to the kitchen in the middle of this madness, are just watching the scene unfold, completely unable to even say a word.

Slowly, you slide off the stool and grabbing the bag filled with clothes you turn to Rosa.

“Thanks for… these,” you mumble before walking out, Harry following you right behind. 

Nothing is said as the two of you get into the car, Harry is clearly on the verge of anger outburst, but you’re pretty upset yourself. The drive back to your place is painfully quiet, but you can’t stop staring at his hands gripping the wheel. HIs fingers and knuckles are turning white from the way he is basically crushing the wheel in his hold. You wouldn’t be surprised if it had his grip’s imprint on it by the time you arrive to your building. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he snaps once the car is parked.

“Would you stop pretending like you have a saying in what I do?”

“I do have a saying in it! Because when you break again I’ll be the one picking you up from the ground!”

“Well, sorry it’s such an inconvenience to be my friend. But don’t worry, I won’t come to you again,” you snap back with a grimace and try to open the door, but it’s locked. “Let me out, Harry!”

“Fuck no, not until we talk about this,” he scoffs and it’s the last straw for you.

“There’s nothing to talk about! It’s none of your business, Harry! Stop pretending like you care!”

“I do care!” he shouts back so forcefully you are taken aback, sinking into your seat. “Of course I fucking care! How would I not?! I care about you so fucking much, how do you not see it?!”

At this point, you’re certain Harry has lost all self control and he is about to load he has been holding back out on you, while you’re just sitting there, staring at him completely speechless over how his whole being is filled with anger and fury.

“Stop fucking telling me that I don’t care when all I think about is you! Every damn day! I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, because every time my mind snaps right back to you when I’m trying to think about something else! Do you know how fucking painful it is?! See you fucking waste your time with that dickhead when I want to be with you?!”

Eyes widened you forget to even breathe as the words leave his lips and soon enough realization hits him hard about what he just said. His chest is violently waving, eyes staring straight ahead. Next time he speaks up the shouting is over, he is clearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Y/N, I-- what you told me last time, about ending up alone, that wasn’t the first time you told me all of that.”

“What?” you gasp.

“You broke down the same way at the wedding. Told me all about how you think you are just simply unlovable and will probably die alone.” His eyes snap down at his hands on his lap as he continues. “I was shocked how you’d ever think that way about yourself, because I was… I was already falling in love with you and I barely just met you that night. I couldn’t imagine what happened to you that made you believe that nonsense. I never felt like that with anyone else before and it was so fucking scary. Every time you looked at me or touched me, I could feel… the sparks. The fucking sparks, Y/N,” he lets out a bitter chuckle. “I never believed in that, but you made me feel that way. Then… one thing happened after the other and we were up in my room. I saw the way you looked at me, like I was your fucking everything and I have never experienced that. You fell asleep in my arms and I told myself that this is exactly how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

Tears roll down your cheeks as you listen in complete shock as Harry is still avoiding to look at you.

“I wanted to be the person who shows you how lovable and amazing you are, how worthy you are to be loved. Like I found my mission all of a sudden.”

“Then what the fuck happened in the morning?” you ask choking out the words. Harry finally turns to face you and you see his watery eyes. He was crying.

“You fell asleep and I was just watching you… and I realized that… sooner or later I would do something to hurt you. Because that’s what I always do and I didn’t want that. You didn’t deserve that, but I just knew I won’t be able to give you what you wanted and needed. And you told me all about how you just want to be loved and… I didn’t want to disappoint you in any way.”

He rubs his eyes turning back to look straight ahead and you see his lips tremble before he speaks up again. 

“I said all those stuff so you’d have a reason to hate me and you wouldn’t try to stay with me.”

“This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you chuckle bitterly as the tears keep rolling down your cheeks. “Do you have any idea how fucking horrible I felt after that? I felt so ashamed for fucking weeks, Harry!”

“I-I know. I mean, I figured.”

“You made me feel unwanted and dirty, it took me so long to build my confidence back and be able to think of myself as more than just some used rug that was thrown out!”

Harry sits there in complete silence and just lets you load everything out on him, because he knows that’s what he deserves. He has tried to punish himself in so many different ways for what he did to you, but he knew he had to face you someday. Now the time has come and he is done trying to run away from the consequences of his actions in the past.

“I was blaming myself all this time, thinking that I must have done something wrong, when in reality it was you! It was fucking you!”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it to end like this.”

“You didn’t mean it to end like this?” you snap. “You literally continued to treat me like shit for years! If it wasn’t for Valerie, you’d still be a complete dick to me! And what was your intention with this now, huh? Why did you tell me all of this now?!”

“Because I couldn’t stop… seeing you be so unhappy with someone who clearly doesn’t deserve you in any way. I’m selfish and I realized that I made a mistake, but I now know what I should have done, because…” He finally turns to face you again, you see a tear roll down his cheek as he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I love you. I love you, Y/N, and I’m fucking done pretending like I don��t.”

You stare back at him, breath caught in your throat and it’s the breaking point. You reach over to his side and unlock the doors so you can open yours and you jump out of the car wanting to get as far away from him as possible. He can’t just throw all of this on you after everything the two of you went through, that’s not how it works. Does he even mean it? How are you supposed to believe him after years of hatred?

You try to get inside the building, but he is quick to catch up with you, he grabs your upper arm and pulls back, but you yank his hold away. 

“Where are you going?!” he snaps towering above you.

“Home. And don’t fucking touch me!”

“But I literally just told you I love you, you’re not gonna say anything about that?”

At first you plan on not even answering, you make your way towards the door, but then you change your mind. Turning around you unload on him once again.

“You don’t have the right to tell me you love me! Not after all the shit I took from you! How am I supposed to believe it when you literally made me feel like shit for all these years, saying the meanest stuff to me every damn time we met! I was avoiding you like the plague because I can’t even count how many times you made me cry calling me names and treating me so fucking horrible! No, you are not just gonna waltz in here, tell me that I have to break up with my boyfriend because you’ve been in love with me all along. I don’t fucking believe you, Harry. So stay the fuck away from me,” you tell him and push your way inside. This time he doesn’t follow.

By the time you reach your front you’re sobbing, barely seeing from your own tears. With shaking hands you unlock the door and get inside shutting the door behind you before you collapse on the floor. 

Harry lives in delusion if he thinks he can just unload all of this on you and make everything right magically. Not after more than three years of the shit you took from him. How are you supposed to believe that he is telling the truth? If he loved you all along, how could he treat you like that? That’s not what love should feel like. All those countless times when you came home after seeing him and you couldn’t help but cry after some of his meanest comments… and now he is trying to make you believe he did it all to protect you from him? Bullshit.

It doesn’t work like that and now he is gonna have to face the consequences of his actions. 

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@f-vasquezp​ @perspnhel​ @http-cherries​  @h-arrystyles​ @just-damn-bored​ @millennial-teenybopper​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @gwenlovesharrystyles​ @perfectywrong​ @do-youseeme​ @burberryharold​  @irwindoll​ @stylesfics-xx​ @sltwins​ @mellamolayla​ @funeral-7​  @yourkidsfavbabysitter​ @nesiamenick​ @sunflower6why​ @rainbowbutterflyboy​​

[tendouluvr]

bakugō helping you clean your room - gn reader

- fluff, comfort

- warnings: doesnt exactly say depression but can be implied? reader will just say they lost motivation lately and felt like they couldn’t do anything bc its been a hard time but im leaving it as vague as possible so anyone can imply anything really, no swearing <3

- wc: 983

a/n: :o first writing post!! i got this idea when i saw a vid on my yt rec and it was a clean in real time w me vid i love cleaning vids

baku a lil ooc i think not sure i didnt wanna make him sound too harsh bc reader doesnt need that attitude rn but i hope he still sounds blunt enough for him to be bkg

p.s. this isnt edited and written in proper grammar. i use u, ur, lowercase, literally how i text so just a heads up. i’ll come back and rewrite this properly one day maybe

#! bakugō😑 hes loud

#! enters ur room by stomping until he realizes that there isnt floor space to stomp

#! adruptly stops and lets out one of his little “oh?” while he stares at ur lying body on the bed with ur head stuffed in between two pillows

#! “baby?” and he’ll get a grunt and a whine from u in return

#! “ur rooms a little... do u need help?” he mumbles

#! u slowly get up and look at him from across the room while mumbling something

#! “what? speak up”

#! he maneuvers his way thru ur room to u

#! “i said i havent had the motivation to do anything lately. its been hard for me to do much to be honest. im sorry it’s so messy, i know this wasnt what u were expecting when u came in”

#! “tch, don’t apologize. ur fine. i’ll clean it. wanna help?”

he starts clearing out all of the dirty laundry laying around ur room and while he does that u take ur time picking up some cups around ur desk area. u placed the used cups, some still had water and some was empty, into an empty basket laying around so u can bring it all out to the kitchen at once.

bakugō works fast so he was already done with picking up the dirty laundry and was now folding and hanging ur clean laundry thats just been sitting in the corner of ur room waiting to be put away.

“do u want to time urself? or do some countdown to help u stay focus or something?” bakugō asked u once he saw that u got distracted with some keychain on ur desk.

“hmm? oh, sure! sorry i just haven’t seen that keychain in a while heh.”

“it’s fine. here, use my phone and give urself however much time u need.”

“thank u katsu~,” u said, grabbing his phone and giving urself 10 minutes to pick up the remaining cups (and a plate but lets not talk abt that), go to the kitchen, and come back.

u made it back with almost 3 minutes remaining and decided to lay back down until the timer went off. bakugō was finishing up the last bit of ur laundry and was just organizing ur closet.

u heard the closet door close and brought ur head up to see bakugō walking towards u on the bed. he brought his arms out and u sat up to wrap ur arms around his waist while he’s standing, hugging ur shoulders.

“good job, baby. im hella proud of u. do u wanna keep resting? i can clean the rest.”

“no! i’ll help, what do i do?”

he lets out a low chuckle and tells u that u can go get a big trash bag from the kitchen so u guys can throw away any junks found while cleaning ur desk and shelves. bakugō began vacuuming, seeing that the floor was pretty much clear from any clutter that could get in the way, while u left to do ur task.

when u came back with the trash bag and some disinfecting wipes, he was halfway done vacuuming so u decided to start clearing out one of ur shelves. this was one of a few u have that holds some random books and figures that just so happens to be in ur room (yk those random stuff u find in ur room that u dont know where it came from but u do know abt it, yea im talking abt those)

u took everything out to wipe the shelf with the disinfecting wipes and then began sorting thru ur items so ur shelf can be less clustered. a little humming and sorting later, u finally decided on what to keep and what to throw and started putting it all back onto ur shelf.

bakugō just finished vacuuming and went over to u to help clean the other shelves so it’ll be done faster. he chose the top three shelves and took everything off at once. he wiped down all three and started sorting thru ur belongings, asking u now and then if u wanna keep something because he wasn’t sure. soft humming could be heard from u and echoing hums could be heard from bakugō.

bakugō has a good memory so he remembers where everything is suppose to go, so dont worry ur pretty little head abt him messing up ur stuff. after all, he does care abt u and everything related to u.

u were done with the two shelves he left u, so u went over to ur desk and repeated the taking everything out, wiping it down, and sorting process all over again for every corner of ur desk. bakugō eventually finished and came over to help ur last bit.

u were sitting on ur desk chair rearranging a small figure u have of ur favorite character from ur favorite show when bakugō suddenly lifted u up so he can sit on the chair and u on his lap.

u gasped at this and held onto his arms while he tightens his grip on u. after a moment and u guys settled down, u went back to ur figure while bakugō stuffed his soft face into the nape of ur neck. he leaves kisses on ur neck and shoulder before finally resting his chin onto ur shoulder.

“u did a great job today. if u ever need help remember im here for u, angel. u dont have to feel bad over something u cant control. i’ll keep telling u until it’s drilled into ur head, you’ll even hear it in ur sleep.”

at the last sentence u let out a quick laugh, but nodded ur head telling him u understand.

“i love u katsu.”

“hmm, love u more.”

[emeeime]

~Hard working~

Sick chubby!fem reader x luisa! (I dont really know how to write for chubby readers cause i dont really use words to describe your body so im gonna try my best!)

Word count: 913

You were hurring around the town, trying your best to just try and get your chores done. At the begining of the day you knew you didn't feel right. You were so stuffy and tired. You just wanted to sleep but you were hard working and you knew you had shit to do today and you were gonna get it done if it was the last thing you do. 

"Can you please help me with taking care of these?" 

"after that can you help me with these?" 

The chores were piling up. all the stress ended up giving you a migrine on top of you feeling like absoulte garbage. Right before you could even try to start another task, you felt 2 large arms wrap around your hips. 

"Amor, i'm sorry but i need to get back to work, i have a lot on my plate already" You said, your voice sounded stuffy. She could tell you probably didn't feel well. With one big swoop, you were off the ground and in her arms. 

"Ah! Luisa put me down, I have stuff to do today!" you yelped, her words meant nothing to her. she just wanted you to go and get some rest. 

"Luisaaaaaa please put me down." You begged. Once again she didn't listen, so you restored to playing dirty. 

you slowly got closer to her ear and whispered the most dirty things you could think of she finally stopped walking and just stood there with her face red, that gave you enough time to hurry out of her arms and run as fast as you could to go and get those chores done, you coughed a little as you ran but you refused to stop.

"H-Hey! thats not fair!" Luisa yelled from behind you. 

"Too late, im gonna get my work done if its the last thing ill do!" 

"(Y/N) your sick, get back here!" she yelled as she began to chase after you. The townsfolk heard all of it, and they gladly moved out of the way for Luisa. 

"TRAITORS" you yelled at them

not long after she caught you. "ughhhhh i just need to get my work doneee." you whined, struggling to get out of her grasp again. "Amor no, you need to rest. Your sick for gods sake. I dont want you to exhaust yourself when your already not feeling well." 

You finally gave in, letting her take you back to her room and stop you from getting your chores done. You got to her room and she set you down on her bed, a soft thud accompanied you with soft warm blankets. 

"Stay right here, im gonna go get you some soup." Luisa spoke softly, as she walked out of the door. It's go time. 

You struggled to get out of the beds grasp but you made it out and you hurried out of the room, but when you got to the stairs, the casita refused to let you go down them. 

"Let me go please!"  you whisper yelled at the house, "I just wanna get my work done" 

The casita stayed stong, not letting you go no matter what. You were about to hurry back to her room but it was too late. 

"(Y/N)? what are you doing out of bed? i thought i told you to stay in bed." Luisa stared at you with a smug look on her face. One hand on her hips the other with a small bowl of soup.  "Heyyyy its the best girlfriend in the world Luisaa, can i just take the soup and go? I don't wanna dissapoint the townsfolk y'know? hehe" you tried to sneak past her as you did fingerguns but of course the casita said no to that one. 

"Come on casita work with me!" you whisper yelled.

"Thanks for the compliments but im sorry your not gonna work for the rest of the day. I dont make the rules, the casita does" she said, looking you in the eyes. "But likeee, i had so much stuff to doooo" you whined, it didn't really fase Luisa. "Well they can do it themselves, you need to rest. You are obviously holding back a cough right now" 

She was right but you didn't want her to be right, so you held the cough in. "Princesa, you need to cough. Sometimes your a little too stubborn." Without warning she patted you on the back making you cough. 

"im not that stubborn!" you yelled, basically pouting. "You literally just went out of your way to get out of bed while sick. you a little stubborn" She chuckled. "Hmph. Fine maybe a little, but i still need to get my work done." 

"thats enough outta you. You need to rest. and drink the soup before it gets cold!" a voice said behind you. It was Julieta, a stern look on her face. "Ugh fine, but only because i dont wanna get  scolded."  

You finally got back into her bed, and drank her julieta's soup, you felt better, but still Luisa made you spend the rest of the day in bed. But it was worthwhile because you got to cuddle with you dork girlfriend until you both fell asleep 

:) 

[duckiesdoodlesdelight]

what if i wrote fanfiction at 10 pm on a saturday night  😏 (this lasted for an hour so now its 11)

(warnings for mentions of Gore.  the only reason im writing this is bc i was trying to think of animatic ideas but then instead had an interesting thouight >:-] there’s going to be violence in this one !)

Context: I like making theories for Fire Spirit. This one is essentially about him previously being a knight much like Knight Cookie, named Magma Cookie. 

(Here’s the uh. first and only design i’ve made of him AHAHSF)

A knight of vanilla armor and a knight of chocolate armor walked side-by-side into the entrance of Dragon’s Valley. The Vanilla knight, famously known as Knight Cookie, was a relatively short cookie with a strong build and poorly cut blond hair. The chocolate knight, on the other hand, was not known well by those outside of the kingdom neighboring the Dragon’s Valley. His name was Magma Cookie. He was tall, slim, and had flowing magma hair. 

At this time of day, there were usually two to four dragons awake and flying around. The two armored cookies could see a yellow dragon flying away from the valley and a green dragon flying above their heads. While it was impressive, they were on a mission to find the dragon that had been terrorizing Magma Cookie’s kingdom: Pitaya Dragon Cookie. Other dragons had relatively positive relationships with the kingdoms around them. Pitaya Dragon Cookie was the exception to this expectation. Every other week, they would try to burn down a kingdom, whether it be Magma Cookie’s kingdom or Knight Cookie’s. The two bravely decided to venture out and teach this dragon a lesson! 

“Are you slow?” Teased Knight Cookie as he walked ahead.

“Are you? I’ll race you to Pitaya’s cave! I know where it is.” To be frank, Magma Cookie knew his way around Dragon’s Valley like the back of his cracked hand.

“That’s not fair!” 

Most dragons rested peacefully as the clang of armor hitting the ground went past the mouth of their dens. Some, although disgruntled, ignored the disruption. Few called out for the two knights to stop making a ruckus. 

“Here it is,” Magma Cookie whispered to Knight Cookie. “Pitaya’s den.” They tip-toed their way in, trying not to awaken the dragon. 

“Don’t announce our entrance this time,” Knight Cookie warned. “We have to get the surprise attack--”

“PITAYA DRAGON COOKIE!” Magma Cookie was twenty steps behind Knight Cookie in his plan, having already announced their existence. “I, MAGMA COOKIE, CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL.”

“Is that sssso...?” Queried the sleepy dragon as they rose their head. “Would you like your partner to help or are you a... brave cookie?” They looked up and down at Magma Cookie, sizing him up. “You’d be a quick meal.”

“I...” Magma Cookie looked at Knight Cookie, who had his face in his hands. 

“We’ll fight you together. You need to stop terrorizing the kingdoms!”

“That’d be so boring. You’re so tiressssome... Because I do not like you, vanilla knight, I will be fighting the chocolate knight and him only. Should I win, you will leave me alone.”

“Do you think our lives are something to bet on? Like we’re--”

“Deal. I’ll leave you alone if you beat me. I’m not so sure about Knight Cookie, though.”

“Stop making impulsive decisions like this, Magma Cookie.” He crossed his arms. “You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days.”

“Hopefully not today!”

“Sssay goodbye to your friend, ‘Knight’ Cookie.” With a swish of the tail, Knight Cookie was pushed outside of the den. He could feel the ground shake and see rubble fall to block him out. There was no way inside. Knight Cookie wasn’t strong enough to pick up or push the fallen boulders.

Why did Magma Cookie feel so cold? He was fighting a fire-breathing dragon! It was supposed to feel hot! Magma Cookie grunted as he swung his sword at the dragon’s legs. He panted as he dodged most of the dragon’s attacks-- they were powerful, even one hit would end in his demise. 

His sword clashed against the dragon’s scales, although it seemed nothing happened. Pitaya Dragon Cookie raised their head and roared, breathing a great gust of blazing fire at the roof of the den. “Pathetic mortal... Your sssword is heated...” They slashed at Magma Cookie, quickly knocking him over into the wall. He was shivering as he stared up at the large dragon. 

“Don’t kill me! I’ll-- I’ll leave you alone!”

“Tch. You think that me sssparing you will teach you anything? You really are quite stupid.” Pitaya Dragon Cookie’s stomach made a rumbling noise as flames erupted from their mouth, burning Magma Cookie to a crisp. They coughed on his ashes, hacking up a bead. “Yuck. It’s been 500 years already?” Looking at their large collection of beads, they shrugged. “I’ll leave it on those ashes... They’re like a nessst.”

Pitaya Dragon Cookie burst through the rubble at the mouth of their cave to find that Knight Cookie was talking to another dragon of the valley. He immediately turned over to the dragon and began speedwalking. 

“What did you do? What have you done? Is he alright?”

“I’m afraid not,” they answered with a malicious smile. “Would you like to sssee the damage?” Pitaya Dragon Cookie was already walking toward their den, knowing Knight Cookie would follow.

“Here he is!” They showed the miserable display of hubris that was Magma Cookie’s ashes. 

“Oh my tree.” Knight Cookie broke down on his knees, picking up Magma Cookie’s ashes as his tears fell down. “Why would you do this? He just wanted you to leave the kingdoms alone!”

“Like you two would ssstop hounding me about it if I let him live. You wouldn’t know sense if it stood in front of you and introduced itself.” 

“I have a deal for you.”

“Oh?” Pitaya Dragon Cookie slithered around Knight Cookie. “The vanilla knight has come with a deal? How interesssting.”

“If I can beat you in this battle, you will do whatever you can to bring Magma Cookie back. If you beat me, well... You know you’ll be left alone for good. No other knight is as brave as us-- me.” 

“Ohohoho! Do you care for this cookie?”

“I’d give my life for him!”

“I already knew that, you buffoon. I wasss asking if you had relations with the chocolate knight.” 

“Obviously so. If you weren’t a murderous beast, I would’ve been glad to show you our rings.” 

“How adorable! You wish to sssave a husband. A lover.” The dragon dramatically posed around their den in a mocking manner. “Let us fight.”

Knight Cookie swung his sword in a cold and calculated manner, aiming for the dragon’s neck. Pitaya Dragon Cookie was careless, allowing the Knight to bang his sword against their neck. He attempted to hit other body parts, each having similar results. The vanilla knight growled, trying to think about what he’s doing wrong. Was the dragon’s scales simply too powerful? 

That was when it hit him-- literally. Pitaya Dragon Cookie swung their tail, hitting Knight Cookie square in the chest and launching him into a wall. Knight Cookie swiftly got up and ran around, trying to get the large dragon to swing their tail again. He called out to the dragon, heckled the dragon, and teased the dragon. Finding himself the perfect opportunity, Knight Cookie raised his sword.

He swiftly sliced downward. 

The dragon’s tail flew off followed by trails of pink blood. Pitaya Dragon Cookie, after thrashing around the cave for a few minutes, fell over on their side and passed out. 

“I did it.” He huffed. “I did it! I beat the dragon!” Knight Cookie stood up, feeling more powerful than ever. He picked up the dragon’s tail with ease despite the tail’s large size, examining it. “Maybe I can hang you up on my wall. Isn’t that right, Magma--” Realization struck his face as he turned toward the bead. He stared into the ashes of his fallen lover once again and tried to shake the dragon awake.

“Pitaya Dragon Cookie! Wake up! You’ve a deal to fulfill!” 

It was surprisingly hard to wake a dragon. It was even more hard to take care of the dragon-- the only solution Knight Cookie had to his issue was to try to heal Pitaya Dragon Cookie enough for them to at least speak to him. This was a task that took him weeks of outgoing trips toward unfamiliar cookie hospitals and other dragon’s dens. 

But he was finally successful.

“Who the hell are you...?” The dragon drowsily asked. 

“You-- you.” Knight Cookie, although surprised by this successful attempt, managed to bring himself to a grim and serious tone. “We have a deal. You need to follow through on your loss.” 

“I haven’t lossst to a cookie...” Upon seeing their dismembered tail, their mouth dropped. “Until now.”

“You’ve been asleep for weeks. How can I revive Magma Cookie?”

“I have an idea, although I will warn you... Your husssband will never be the same after thisss...”

“I just want him back.” 

“Take one of my scales to the bead on his ashes.” 

After doing this, it was obvious to see the effects. Flames were sparking from the dragon scale and the bead that quickly erupted into a blazing ball of birth. The light was blinding as a meek, flame-haired cookie was born.

Fire Spirit rose from the ashes, his cape elegantly flowing through the breeze of The Dragon’s Valley.

“Who are you?”

[tanzmajor]

endzeit romantik

loosely based on 11x23, bad ending - amara wins and the world is dying.

fandom: supernatural

pairing: crowley/reader

summary: the world is ending - crowley and you share a moment together

warnings: talk of adult themes, end times (the world is literally ending so IDK), light angst, crowley (he's a warning for himself lol), pretty sfw, swear words!

notes: not sure why i wrote this, i was rewatching spn while i was sick and wanted to write some stuff for crowley again. just wanted to capture a moment i guess! im wondering if ppl actually still care about him lol (title means end time romance)

word count: 2.3

The world was ending again because of the entitlement of the Winchesters. Earth would finally pay the price for their stubborn refusal to let the other die.

And you hoped that this time it would end for good.

It wasn’t the comfortable quiet before the storm like the last few times. This time, it felt so real – the end was finally so close for all of you. It wasn’t like those other moments, where you prepared to fight some greater evil that you could actually defeat. Amara was harsh – making sure things would end slow and surely. She made sure, that God was dying for good.

You remembered the apocalypse to be more light-hearted than all of this – you remembered sitting at the table with Ellen and Jo, encouraging Castiel to drink along with you. Seeing how much it would take for Castiel to feel something close to being tipsy. Given the circumstances, it was one of the fonder memories you had of that time.

This time you were stuck in the bunker with an even weirder cast of faces, including but not reserved to God. You were unfamiliar with those surrounding you. Not even the uncomfortable smile that Castiel would throw into your direction when you looked at him could fix that discomfort.

And what the strangest thing about all of this was, was how numb you were towards it all.

You never had to truthfully answer the question of what you would do when the world was about to end. The answer to that had always been decided by others, you just went with the flow – you never spared a thought about calling your family or taking that once-in-a-lifetime risk. But now you were sitting there, not talking or drinking like the others around you. You were sulking in a chair off to the side with furrowed brows – really reconsidering the choices you had made that had led you down to this path.

You should’ve run far away when Sam had approached you back then. Telling him to fuck off and never contact you ever again – you assumed that if you had done that, you’d be spending the last few hours that you had on this pitiful planet with your actual family.

You quietly thought about texting your mother. But what would you say? If you’d text her that you loved her out of nowhere – she would call and be concerned. How does one even break to their mother that the world was going to end soon?

You rubbed your tired eyes briefly. Maybe you should finally finish the last few pages of the book on your nightstand. At least then you could pass knowing you accomplished something meaningful today.

“Care to share a drink with me?”

It was that familiar voice that had given you a heart attack so many times before. You looked up to meet the gaze of Crowley looking down at you, ignoring the others around him like he always seemed to do when he was interacting with you. Dean shot you two a heated glare, a subtle warning to either you or Crowley. You weren’t sure if Dean was trying to tell you to be careful, or if he was threatening the man in front of you. Not that it would matter anymore anyways. Crowley twisted the bottle of scotch in his hand ever so slightly, letting you know that it was what he was talking about.

Spending your last hours next to the supposed King of Hell. Fitting. If there had been a greater logic behind all of the things that had happened today, this would be the next step. You silently wished that things would stop getting weirder and stranger – the thickness in the air of it all was slowly but surely suffocating you. You decided however, that Crowley had different plans. He would take advantage of situations like these – like he always does.

“Ah – I don’t see why not.”

You shifted in your seat to find a comfortable position for your back. Your hair fell into your face, and you quickly brushed it behind your ear. Now was not the time to worry about your looks.

You watched Crowley grab a glass for you and fill it up with the promised, amber liquor. You weren’t a big fan of the taste of pure alcohol, but it wouldn’t matter anyways. You were struggling to feel anything other than despair, and getting a little bit tipsy too fast seemed like a welcome distraction right now.

You watched his hand push the glass closer to you. You had taken his usual spot in the library corner – a tinge of guilt mixed into your other feelings. But only briefly. You nodded towards Crowley as you took the glass into your hands. He smirked at you. You furrowed your brows.

“What?”

You took a sip and watched him push a chair for himself next to you. He sat down, his own glass firm in his grip. His gaze seemed fixed on you. Something was on his mind and you could see it in the way he was looking at you. You didn’t have enough time to properly take the King of Hell apart in your head though. Not that you could anyways, you assumed that it was a task that would take you forever. Eternity if not.

“You trying to make some last deals or something?”

You watched his eyes roll. No one in the room seemed to pay attention to the fact that he was talking to you – not that he could do anything to you anyways. It was like you two were hidden away, behind the corner to yourselves. You assumed that Dean had a tiny bit of his leftover concentration fixed on you. You were frustrated by how overly protective he was being. It felt like a testimony to Dean’s selfishness – that he had the right to decide for you. Crowley spoke, and tilted his head to the side like he usually did.

“Would you like to?”

You huffed a laugh and smiled into your drink. It was an honest laugh, finding it amusing that he decided that now, this moment, would be the right time to cozy up to you.

“I don’t think I have any last wishes.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

With that, he returned to himself. Obviously reconsidering things as well – although you doubted that he was thinking about anything that could eat away at his conscience. He was a demon, so you weren’t really sure if there truly was anything that he regretted. Maybe he was thinking about his accomplishments, maybe Hell hadn’t been so easy on him after all.

You watched his features, and you could tell he was ignoring your hard gaze. There was tiredness surrounding him, like the centuries he had spent roaming this earth finally settling into his stolen bones. It was that expression he had when he thought that no one was watching. An expression only you ever seemed to really notice. You wondered if he ever got any rest. If he even had the need for a break.

You didn’t bother asking him any of that. You knew full well that even if the world was ending, there wasn’t any good reason to be growing soft on the King of the damned. Although, he did lose his shine in the past few years. He wasn’t as terrifying as he used to be. Maybe he didn’t want to scare you.

You told yourself that it was the desperation in you speaking. The end was so close you could feel it with your entire body – it was natural to struggle and yearn for something intimate. A soft moment between you and anyone, a love confession even. Something unexpected. Something to shake you to the core, to make you forget that it would soon all be gone. For a moment at least.

Maybe you should ask Crowley to come into your bedroom with you. To have fun while it lasts. He didn’t look too bad, and the prospect of doing something so wrong with him, would for sure change your mood for a while. You looked away from Crowley. You hoped that nobody was listening to your thoughts right now.

“I always liked you the best.”

You startled slightly when he spoke again, your eyes trailing from the hand on his glass up towards his face. You never had the chance to get such a close look at him. You weren’t sure what to do with the time at hand. You huffed.

“I’m flattered.”

You watched him take a sip of the liquor. He spoke again.

“You should be.”

Your eyes met his. There was something unspoken going on right now, as if he was trying to shift the conversation towards something specific. Maybe he had just taken pity in you. Maybe he had grown attached to you more than he would like to admit. He could also just be feeling gracious, trying to do something with the situation at hand.

You could hear Dean and Sam talk – both obviously trying to do the same as you and the others. Making something out of this. Enjoying the time while it lasts. But you also noted, that Dean seemed somewhat intoxicated. You knew that you all felt the same way – guilty. You had failed.

You downed the rest of the scotch – it burned in your throat. You shook your head slightly and scrunched up your nose. Something he noticed, but didn’t mention directly. You refilled your glass.

“You don’t drink often, do you?”

He asked, his gaze following your movements carefully. As if he would miss something if he didn’t.

“I try to not make it a habit.”

He squinted his eyes at you. You were quick to add something to your sentence.

“I’m not really a fan of the hard stuff.”

You shrugged your shoulders, sitting back down and leaning your head back to let it rest against the cushion of the seat. You looked at him with your tilted head. Your legs were stretched out. No matter what you did, the stress that wore at you wouldn’t release itself from your body. You weren’t sure if maybe you should get up and move around or do something else altogether.

“Can you blame me?”

“Oh, no not really. It’s not like you surround yourself with people of class.”

He said, rather amused. You knew he was talking about the Winchesters and their tendency to stick to what they knew. Cheap beer, cheap hotels and even cheaper food. You bit your lip, an amused smile now too on your face. Maybe this truly was his way of flirting with you without getting another demon-killing knife attached to his hand. He wanted something from you – what he wanted, you weren’t sure of. It’s not like it would be useful for him to make a deal with you. Both of you wouldn’t be sticking around for another 10 years anyways.

You couldn’t deny that your tendency to remain neutral towards him had always been something you despised yourself for. You weren’t sympathetic towards him – but he wasn’t someone you actively watched out for. You knew that the Winchesters were aware of this, so they usually tried to keep you away from him.

His manipulation tactics never worked on you, but it’s not like you really held your guard up around him. To you – he was like Castiel. Someone who faded in and out of your daily life. You didn’t even bother seeking him out when he had been stuck in the bunker with you, in the dungeon. You just knew that ever since he saw you and interacted with you while Sam couldn’t do the dungeon duties, he was drawn to you. As if something about the fact that the brothers tried to desperately keep him away from you was urging him to spend as much time with you as possible.

He couldn’t give less of a fuck about the Winchesters. But if a demon even thought about pointing a knife towards you?

You ignored those memories. You noted that Dean had put on some music. A song you didn’t recognize. You shifted in your seat to look around the corner to see Crowley’s mother, whose name you never seemed to remember, and Chuck sitting at the long table and talking about nothing particular at all. You assumed that Chuck himself would just ignore what was happening. Like always.

Sam caught your eyes and nodded at you. All of you were so fucking unsure of what to do, how to react or how to feel. You assumed that maybe only the non-human beings in the room with you were somewhat okay with all of this. That they in the slightest, maybe didn’t even particularly care about the situation at hand.

Crowley hadn’t really bothered to continue the conversation, more than contempt to just sit next to you and listen in to what Dean was now saying. Not that he was saying anything important of course, but at least he was doing something. You weren’t sure why he had asked you to drink with him anyways. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone. You were one of the few people in the room who wouldn’t turn him down, and he knew that.

Maybe he wanted something much different from you, but wasn’t sure how to voice it without making anybody around you suspicious of his intentions.

“If you want something from me you can just say it. I’m not really in the mood to care about consequences anyways.”

You chuckled into your glass, the ridiculousness of the situation feeling light-hearted on you. Maybe the alcohol helped just a little bit as well - to loosen you up. He once again looked you in the eyes.

“And here I thought I was so good at being subtle.”

Your expression was teasing – something he wasn’t used to seeing from you. The world was ending and you were flirting with the King of Hell. You couldn’t make that shit up.

“You used to be better at it.”

[set-phasers-to-whump]

hiding injury

prompt: hiding injury

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi here is my fave trope ft. one of my fave characters!!! this kinda got away from me in length lmao but i loved writing it and im not mad ab how it turned out. i hope you enjoy!!!!

Something had felt...off about tonight’s victory. It had been in the way his opponent had looked at him, not the usual disappointment and anger that typically came with losing a fight, but something stronger, more violent. Eddie’d brushed it off. He’d had worse looks thrown at him. 

He’s regretting having brushed it off right about now. If he hadn’t, if he’d just talked to the guy, calmed him down, something, he wouldn’t be here right now, hand pressed to a stab wound in his torso, leaning up against the door of his truck, feeling blood slowly seep through his fingers, warm and wet. 

For a split second, his non-occupied hand reaches for his phone, but he stops himself before he even unlocks it. He can’t call 911. If he calls 911, then the 118 will discover what it is he’s been doing...they’ll realize that he’s dangerous, reckless, stupid, for having gotten himself stabbed, and he doesn’t want them to think that. He can’t lose them, not now. So no 911. He’ll be fine. He used to be a medic. He knows how to treat a stab wound. 

He gets into his truck, left hand still firmly pressed to his torso. He fumbles around with the other until he finds a rag on the floor. Not bothering to think about where it might’ve been, Eddie balls it up and presses it as hard as he can into the wound, gritting his teeth to stop from screaming. 

He drives home as carefully as he can, for the most part keeping a hand pressing the rag to his torso, but occasionally having to let go. His lap and seat are coated in sticky blood by the time he gets home. 

For the first time in his life, he’s grateful that Chris isn’t there. There’s no hiding the blood coating his torso, legs, hands… He doesn’t know how he’d even begin to explain this to his son. 

Eddie gets himself inside and into the bathroom, making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab some alcohol first - this isn’t going to be pleasant.

He stands in front of the mirror, dripping blood onto a towel he’d pulled quickly down from the rack. A first aid kit sits open in front of him. He takes a larger-than-probably-necessary sip from the bottle in his hand, then sets it heavily down onto the counter and gets to work. 

First, he has to clean the wound. He grabs a bottle of saline solution, grits his teeth, and pours it onto his torso, hissing at the stinging feeling. 

He waits for the pain from that to subside before starting on the more painful part of the task - the stitches. He pours some hydrogen peroxide over his supplies to make sure they’re clean - this cannot get infected - and then he takes a deep breath and begins. 

In, out, in, out, in, out...it’s not a terribly long wound, which is good, because every stitch feels like getting stabbed again (which it technically is). He’s crying when he ties the thread off, and his hands are beginning to shake. He’s just glad they waited until he didn’t have a needle poking through his skin.

Eddie carefully sticks a gauze pad over the stitches, then gives himself a once-over in the mirror, hoping he’ll be able to say he looks pretty good for a guy that just stitched himself up. 

But he doesn’t. His face is slightly pale and his eyes are red and there’s blood smeared all over his body like paint on a canvas. He can’t go to sleep like this, although sleep is about the only thing he wants to do at the moment. He’s got to clean himself up.

There’s no way he’s getting in the shower with his freshly-done stitches, so he settles for ruining several washcloths, cleaning his body with water from the sink. He can’t get all of the blood, because he can’t quite bend over without his torso pulling in a way that suggests more stitches will be imminent if he keeps doing it. But most of the blood is removed from his body, anyway, which is good enough for him. He strips out of his bloody shorts and puts them, the washcloths, and the towel from under his feet into the trash. He’ll take it out as soon as he gets redressed, so Chris won’t find them. 

He puts on clean pajama pants, not bothering to run the risk of putting on a shirt, and grabs the trash, taking it outside to the can on the curb, pain thrumming through him with every step. That done, he returns to the bathroom and wipes his blood off of the counter, extremely grateful that none had dripped off of the towel and onto the floor. 

He runs a quick check of the house, making sure there’s no blood on any of the floors (there is, but he scuffs a towel over it with his foot, which is not bloodsoaked enough to warrant the trash, but is instead tossed into the washing machine). He locks the doors, triple-checking to make sure they’re secure, and does the same with the windows. He doesn’t particularly think the guy that stabbed him is going to come after again (and even if he wanted to, it’s not like he knows where Eddie lives), but it never hurts to be cautious. 

When all that is done, Eddie finally lets himself sink very carefully into his bed, placing a couple more towels under him in case his wound should start bleeding in his sleep. He prays it won’t. He doesn’t want to have to stitch his skin up again. 

--

He wakes up in the morning, immediately checking himself for blood, which, fortunately, hasn’t seeped out of the gauze. There's a few spots on the gauze itself, but he needs to change it anyway. 

It looks pretty good, Eddie thinks, eyeing the wound in front of the mirror. Not infected, stitches holding...about as good as he can expect. 

He gets dressed, very painfully, and nearly dislocates his arm trying to get his shirt on without causing any stress on his chest. He makes a halfhearted attempt to make himself look like he didn’t just climb out of bed and head straight to work, but that is what he looks like, he’s sure. 

Buck confirms this for him the second he walks through the station doors. “You look like shit, Eddie,” he says, bumping Eddie’s shoulder with his own. 

Eddie gives him a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Overslept,” he says. Buck nods. “Chris was at that sleepover with...oh, what was her name...Olivia? Bet you expected him to wake you up early for breakfast.”

Eddie nods, surprised that Buck remembers where Chris is. He’d ordinarily smile at the fact, but currently can't bring himself to.

They head up the stairs to the loft, Eddie dragging along behind Buck significantly. Every step pulls on his stitches, and he feels like he can literally feel them starting to pull apart. Which he very well could be feeling, he knows. He just hopes he isn’t. They can’t know about this. 

Of course, for them to not know about this, he has to act completely normal. Which is a task far easier said than done. As soon as he steps foot into the loft, Bobby’s tossing a container of oatmeal at him from the kitchen, with instructions to come over and help him out. Eddie catches the container with a barely concealed wince, and reluctantly goes into the kitchen to help Bobby, leaning up against the counter when he can. 

“You okay?” Bobby asks him, as the team settles down to eat breakfast. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, though it doesn’t sound very convincing, even to his own ears. 

Bobby nods, not pushing the issue. Eddie sees Buck look like he’s about to say something, but Bobby interrupts him by telling everyone what they’ve got on their plates today - cleaning the station. There are general groans from around the table, but Eddie’s never been more excited at the thought of mopping. He’s pretty sure he can do that, but rescuing someone from a burning building might push him a bit too far. 

And if that’s the case, he shouldn’t be here. Not that he should be here anyway, he knows. Ideally, he should be at the hospital. But he can’t be there, and if he’d called in sick today they would have been concerned anyway, and worse, someone might have come over to check on him. So he’s here, gratefully grabbing a mop from the supply closet. 

He turns around, mop in hand, and comes face to face with Buck. 

“Look, I know we’re still...not on the most solid ground,” Buck starts, “but I am sorry, Eddie. I told you why I did what I did, and I understand if it’ll take you some time to process that, but…”

“It’s fine, Buck,” he says, as kindly as he can muster up the energy to do. “Really.” He means it, though he’s pretty sure his words lack the sincerity he feels.

Buck looks at him doubtingly, but after a second he seems to accept that answer, and then, before Eddie can stop him or back away or do anything, Buck’s hugging him tightly around the middle. 

It would be just about the nicest feeling in the world if it didn’t make him want to scream in pain. As it is, he manages to turn the scream into a low groan, muffled into the fabric of Buck’s shirt.

Buck, of course, hears it anyway. He pulls back, arms on Eddie’s shoulders, scrutinizing him. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Eddie says, trying to sound dismissive. Before Buck can say anything else, he adds, “we really should get to mopping.”

Buck can’t argue with that, so they begin their chore, though Eddie doubts that Buck is going to drop this. 

Fifteen minutes of painful labor later, Eddie’s taking a break (hiding from the torture of the mop) in the locker room. Even the simple task had been absolute hell on his stab wound, and he can feel wetness beginning to seep through the gauze. He’s extremely grateful that his shirt is dark enough to hide the stain that is surely growing on it. 

Knuckles rap at the glass. Eddie starts and stands up, turning around and coming, again, face-to-face with Buck. Can we talk? he mouths, and Eddie can’t exactly say no, so he nods. 

Buck comes into the locker room looking somewhere between hurt and angry. “What’s up with you?” he asks. 

Eddie turns his face away from Buck’s eyes. “Nothing,” he says, and Buck laughs humorlessly. 

“Right, ‘cause that sounds so believable. Eds, you’ve been acting weird all day, you still look like shit even after Bobby’s breakfast, and I’ve caught you wincing at least five times in the past twenty minutes. What’s up?”

Eddie shakes his head. He can’t do this...he can’t let them know. Nobody can know about this side of him, this anger and this pain and this goddamn stab wound…

Which all of a sudden hurts a lot more. Eddie snaps open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed and sees Buck’s hand pressing into his torso, not yet touching the wound, but extremely close. 

“Stop,” he whispers, but Buck presses on. 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong with you,” Buck insists, moving his hand and pressing down directly on top of Eddie’s injury.

He makes a noise like a strangled scream, and Buck pulls his hand away suddenly. “What the hell, Eddie?” he asks, and then he looks at his own hands, which are covered in Eddie’s blood. 

“What...the hell?”

Eddie shakes his head. Buck pushes him down onto a bench, and Eddie goes willingly. Buck pulls his shirt off over his head, jostling his arms, and Eddie doesn’t make a sound. His eyes have gone unfocused and his vision has gone blurry from tears he’s unwilling to let fall, but he can still make out the shape of Buck in front of him, knows what his face looks like without having to see it. Disappointed. Angry. Disgusted. He knows this must be how Buck feels. It’s how he feels.

A hand touches his face, cool and soft, and Buck’s voice sounds much the same when he says Eddie’s name. 

Buck moves his hand back to Eddie’s torso, this time gently touching the skin around the wound, pulling back the gauze carefully. Eddie can’t stop himself from whimpering, which he immediately hates himself for, but Buck doesn’t seem to feel the same way when he apologizes and puts a soothing hand in Eddie’s hair. 

“Eddie. Eddie, can you look at me? Please?”

Eddie focuses his eyes as best as he can and looks at Buck, who is crouched on the floor in front of him. “Eddie, what happened?”

He can’t hide it now...Buck knows, and they’re all going to know, know how weak and angry and in pain he is, and then they are going to hate him for it. 

“Hey, hey, Eddie. It’s okay. I’m not going to be mad at you or anything. I promise. Just please tell me what happened so I know how to help you.”

Buck’s hand is back on his face, brushing away tears that he hadn’t ever wanted Buck to see. He takes in a ragged breath. 

“Got stabbed.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he says in return. It’s the only thing he can think of to say, and it’s not enough, it’s never enough, he’s never enough…

“You don’t need to be sorry, Eds. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

Buck shouts for Hen and Chim, and Eddie hears him explaining to them what’s happened. He tries not to pay attention, tries to ignore their voices. He can’t hear them. Can’t hear what they must think of him.

“Eddie?” 

It’s Chim. He nods in response. 

“We’re gonna take you to the hospital, alright?”

He nods again. He can’t fight them, he knows. He desperately hopes they won’t be too mad at him. “I’m sorry,” he says again. 

“For what?”

It’s Hen this time, and he feels her hand on the back of his neck. He doesn’t reply, and this seems to be fine, because nobody asks him anything else, except for Buck, who asks if he’s ready and doesn’t give him time to answer before they’re all helping him up and onto a gurney, then pushing him into an ambulance. 

Hen’s driving, and Buck and Chim are sitting in the back with him. Chim’s busy being a paramedic, though since Eddie’s already cleaned and stitched the wound there’s not a lot for him to do. He slips a pulse monitor onto Eddie’s finger and asks him how he’s feeling. 

“Fine,” Eddie says, which is the wrong answer, obviously. Chim sighs and asks if he’s sure that he really feels fine, you know, with a stab wound to his torso and all. 

“Fine. It hurts,” Eddie mutters, and Chim says a smug thank you that almost makes Eddie smile. 

Buck grabs his hand from where he’s sitting next to Eddie, holding on tighter than can possibly be necessary, like he’s worried Eddie’s going to just fall away. Eddie wishes he had that kind of power. 

“Will you tell us what happened?” Buck asks. Eddie shakes his head slightly. He can’t talk about it. Or, he can, but he doesn’t want to. Except some part of him does. He doesn’t say anything as he tries to figure that one out. 

“Eddie, listen. I know you’re hurting right now. Because of Shannon, because of Chris, because of me...I know I haven’t been the best friend lately, but I have never stopped caring about you. Whatever happened, you can tell me. I promise I won’t judge you or be mad at you.”

“Same,” Chim adds, putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. 

They won’t be mad, Eddie tries to tell himself. They won’t be mad. They won’t be mad. 

“I was street fighting and it went bad,” he says, the words coming out of him in a rush. 

“Okay,” Chim says, with professionalism. Buck, on the other hand, says nothing. He’s looking at Eddie with this unreadable expression on his face and he’s not saying anything, and Eddie thinks that this is it. This is something that can’t be looked past. This is the moment that Buck leaves him, for good. 

“Okay,” Buck agrees, and his grip on Eddie’s hand tightens even more. “Thank you for telling us.”

They arrive at the hospital not ten seconds later, and then Buck, Chim, and Hen are walking beside him on the path to the doors, and when they reach the doors, rather than surrendering him to the doctors and turning around, they follow him in.

A few minutes later the four of them are crammed into a room that’s a little too small for all of them. Eddie’s lying on a table and the others are standing around him, giving the nurse a wide berth but anxiously looking over her shoulders. She’d told them there was no need for surgery and that he hadn’t lost enough blood to be in serious danger. She’d give him an anaesthetic, clean and stitch the wound, and then he’d be kept for observation for a couple hours. She had also pulled the other three away and talked to them about something Eddie hadn’t been able to hear. Him, most likely. 

Buck, Chim, and Hen then clear out for the nurse, who smiles kindly at Eddie and asks whether he’s alright with receiving the local anaesthetic. He’d like to say no, that he’s fine, he’ll tough it out, but he is unfortunately now familiar with the feeling of stitches pulling through his skin, and he accepts the anaesthetic readily.

A few minutes later, he’s been stitched up far better than his at-home job, and he’s lying in a hospital bed trying to argue with the nurse about going home. 

“It really is best if you stay, just until this evening, Mr. Diaz,” she’s saying, and he knows full well she’s right, but he hates it anyway. But Buck and Chim and Hen are standing behind her, eyeing him with looks that leave little point in arguing further. 

He resigns himself to staying in the hospital for a little while. Buck, Chim, and Hen head back to the station and promise to come back as soon as they can. Eddie calls his abuela and asks whether she can pick up Chris from his sleepover. He tells her he’s been hurt on the job, nothing major, and he’ll be home that night. She says she’ll bring Chris by in an hour, and tells him he’d better not think he’s getting away with his shoddy explanation. 

He tries to keep himself occupied as he waits for people to arrive, but time in the hospital passes extraordinarily slowly, and he finds himself bored out of his mind and kind of sleepy. He closes his eyes experimentally and finds it easy to drift off. 

--

He wakes up to voices. Chris and Buck, he realizes, talking very excitedly about a new school project involving plants. Eddie smiles and opens his eyes. 

“Dad!” Chris shouts excitedly, standing up so quickly he about topples over in his haste to give Eddie a hug. Buck catches him before he can fall and reminds him to be gentle, and then Chris is hugging him around the neck and saying he’s so glad he’s okay, and did he hear them talking about the new project? And does he think Buck can come over and help him work on it after school on Monday?

Eddie answers Chris’ questions as well as he can, and Chris seems satisfied with the answers, sinking back into his chair and grinning. Buck gives his hair a tousle and looks at Eddie. “You okay?”

Eddie nods. Now that they’re here, truly, the answer is yes. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he looks Buck straight on, hoping he’ll feel Eddie’s sincerity. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell anyone. I thought it would be fine. I just...I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what?”

Eddie looks at Chris, who is looking between the two of them somewhat confusedly. He shakes his head. Chris doesn’t need to hear this. 

At just that moment, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie looks up to see Athena, with Harry and May in tow. “Bobby’ll be here as soon as he can,” she says to him. “And then you and I are going to talk.”

He nods. He’d figured this was coming. He’s just glad she hadn’t said they were going to talk right now. 

“Hey Chris?” Buck asks, and Chris turns to him, grinning. 

“Dad’s really okay?” Chris asks, before Buck can finish his sentence. 

Buck nods. “He’s going to be just fine, I promise,” he says, holding up his hand like he’s swearing it. Chris giggles. 

“Okay, Buck. Then...can I go play with Harry?”

Chris looks imploringly at Buck, then at Eddie, and Eddie catches Harry giving the same look to Athena. All three adults nod, and the two boys head out into the hallway, Athena and May following behind them. May closes the door behind her and smiles at the two of them, almost encouragingly? Which Eddie thinks is a bit odd. He’s broken away from the question by Buck slipping right back into their prior conversation.

“You didn’t want me to know what?” 

Eddie takes a breath in, then turns his gaze to his hands, intertwined atop the blanket. He doesn’t think he can look at Buck while he says this. 

“I didn’t want you to know how much it hurt. How angry I am. I didn’t want to tell you because then you would realize that I’m not enough, that I am angry and hurting all the time, and I’m not worth the trouble. I didn’t want you to know that about me. I didn’t...I didn’t want you to leave me.”

Buck doesn’t say anything. Eddie risks a glance up at him and sees that there are tears in Buck’s eyes. He hates himself for putting them there.

“Oh, Eddie,” Buck says, and his voice is as soft as anything. He grabs Eddie’s hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of it. “Eddie, there is not a thing you could say to me that would make me leave you. That would make me stop loving you. I’m gonna be right here, no matter what. I’ll be here when you’re hurting, angry, upset...I love all of you, Eddie, not just the parts of you that you show to the world. All of you.”

He’s briefly interrupted by a whoop of joy from the hallway, a mix of Harry and Chris. Eddie looks back up at Buck, who’s smiling despite the tears on his face. 

“And all of Chris. I’m not going to leave either of you, Eds. Even if I get mad at you sometimes. Even if I am mad at you for not telling me that you were hurting.”

Eddie’s crying too, now, and he feels Buck’s hand gently grab his chin, lifting his head so they lock eyes. 

“You are more than enough, Eddie. For Chris, for the 118, for me...we all love you. We’re all right here. You don’t need to keep going through all of this alone.”

Eddie nods, feels a sob escape him, and then Buck’s holding him, incredibly gently but still grounding, running fingers through his hair and telling him, over and over, that he is enough. That he is loved. This just makes Eddie cry more, until finally he pushes Buck away, for once wanting to meet his eyes.

“I love you,” he says, and even after everything Buck’s said to him, he panics for a moment and wonders whether this is too much, and then Buck is moving towards him, slowly, looking at him like he wants confirmation that this is what Eddie wants, and of course this is what he wants, of course it is, and it must show in the look that he gives Buck in return, because the distance between them rapidly closes, and then he is kissing Evan Buckley, and Evan Buckley is kissing him. 

“Eww!” 

The two of them break apart in surprise, and Buck laughs softly, resting their foreheads together. The door to the room opens, and Chris, Harry, Athena, and May walk in. 

“Kissing’s gross,” Harry says, and Chris nods. May whacks her little brother on the head. “What?” Harry protests. “It is.”

Eddie looks at Chris, for a second terrified that his son is going to hate him for this, but then Chris gives the most exasperated sigh that Eddie has ever heard come from a child, and he says, “I guess kissing’s okay.” Harry looks at him with betrayal on his face. “It’s still gross, mostly” he reassures, “but it’s not the worst. ‘Specially since we’re at the hospital. You’re supposed to kiss people better.”

Eddie smiles at his son, and he catches Buck doing the same, looking so incredibly happy and bright that it’s damn near painful to look him straight on.

“Yes!” May says suddenly, and she meets the questioning gazes of everyone in the room, looking up from her phone, where she’d been furiously texting. “Hen and Bobby and Dad owe me $20. I owe Chimney $20, too, though.”

Athena gives her daughter a look. “You bet on this?” she asks. 

Eddie feels himself blush, and sees Buck’s cheeks darken, too. Had this been that obvious?

“Mom,” May starts, but Athena interrupts her. “And you lost to Chimney?”

May nods. 

“And so did Bobby.”

Another nod.

“So we collectively owe Chimney $60. I can’t believe it. I swore I’d beat him. Ooh, he is gonna gloat.”

“Athena!” Buck yelps, mock hurt. “You bet on this?”

“It was a matter of time, Buckaroo.”

Buck smiles at her, and then turns his face back to Eddie. “A matter of time, huh?”

Eddie nods. “Apparently so.”

aghhhh thanks so much for reading this!!! i had literally the best time writing it and i hope you enjoyed!!!

[nnubes]

Nu’s: 06/26/’21

About a LONG time ago, I set up reminders on my phone for posting/reposting content. It was a way to manage my presence online because putting things on a schedule helps me a lot. One of these reminders was every Sunday, uploading content to Tumblr. Posts that have my thoughts for the week that just passed and the week that we are getting into. So!! That’s what I am going to start doing and I am going to be as consistent as possible. 

We call this Nu’s (pronounced: news) It’s not necessarily news but its the best name I could come up with LOL. The goal is to post a short/medium lil ‘whatever’ that you can read and that might help or just entertain you regarding my life, followed by small photo dumps. Let’s start today:

Last week... 

A lot was going on. From the end of April up until about the middle of June, I'd been very comfortable. In all aspects of my life too. I was becoming content to the point that anything outside of the bare minimum, just seemed like a burden. I took a mental break from all of my passions and routines and got lost into the world. Yes, it’s good to have a break, but for me, once I step away from something long enough... getting back into it is ten time harder. I neglected my diet, my morning/night routines, my passions, and was more focused on the things stressing me out (work, school, other people’s burdens). Didn't realize it at the time, but I was losing my drive and ignoring whatever I was truthfully feeling. It felt weird and I ignored how I really felt about it and did pretty much whatever. BUT its not as bad as I am making it sound. I was just distracted and kind of being lazy. Ignoring EVERYTHING except for showering and smoking. Luckily, ever since June things have been just shifting, forcing me to look at life in a whole different aspect. I started to notice a pattern in the type of people that are around me now... very genuine, very inspiring. If you don't look up to the people around you or at the least admire them, get from around them and thank me later! Seeing all these changes made me also look at the changes within AND I finally started addressing how I truthfully feel. 

I am a little hurt by the bonds I am losing. I am a little hurt by the fact that I've had to make so many decisions that I knew I didn't want to but are best for me. I have entered an era where my first thought is “wow that really sucks and I really don't want to feel like this because I have to [insert task/situation that sucks]” and my second thought is “but ultimately this is helping, whether I see it now or not.” because its true! All these times where im like... down bad and feeling sad or feeling lost, it brings me back into realizing who I am, what I want and helps me to get closer to my purpose. Seriously. I know emotions are real, but they only go so far. I’ve learned that FEELING is okay, but acting impulsively or immediately becoming negative about that feeling is what makes me dwell and sit in my sadness and Im not doing that anymore. If there isn't a solution, and it’s out of my control. OR there is a solution, but I did my part, then there is really nothing else I can do, you know? I am learning that I am in control of myself, and my space and what I want. Everything outside of that gets thought...but not so much thought that it becomes overthinking. Even a complicated life can be simple. 

I never believed in astrology or the retrograde or whatever, but I am starting to only because it makes TOO much sense. I think astrology can really benefit whoever invests just a lil time into it. Don't ask me how, but I just feel that way. I don't think I will ever wholeheartedly believe in it, but little things like astrology, numerology, the concept of manifestation, religion, gives you rules and boundaries to life that can lead to you wanting to attain your goals, or feeling inspired in general. I say that to say, this retrograde... I LOVED! It sucked so bad you guys, and when it was over (which I didn't know until the day of) I cried so much because all the emotions I didn't know I was suppressing finally exposed itself. I realize my work isn't done, and i’ve done enough holding things off and using temporary things to suffice. I had a break up too, it wasn't bad at all to be honest. Short relationship that taught me a lot that literally was the whole retrograde from start to finish, which is crazy too. It taught me so much about myself and humbled me in realizing that I shouldn't be comfortable just yet. I still have a lot to learn about myself, how to communicate, my passions. I still have dreams to attain. I still have me, and I can't just get lost and live without feeling because the feelings always catch up to you. Everything that has happened sucks, but I couldn't imagine where I'd be had nothing went left or nothing happened. Probably still physically wandering while being mentally disconnected. 

THIS WEEK THOUGH, 

I'm tapped into my potential! I keep on forgetting what im capable of. I’ve done so much for myself because I'm VERY driven when I want to be. Now that I am older, I have to be the one who holds myself accountable for what I put my energy into...the people, the projects, my passions, even what I eat... and I have to be careful.  Thinking deep enough that I understand the bigger picture, but not so deep that I lose sight of the smaller pictures along the way. corny, but I hope it makes sense. 

That’s all for today, I could go on forever. BUT here are the photo dumps for this post AND I will catch you next time. 

Nu <3

[smoochkooks]

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst 

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed. 

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

 May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

 Park Jimin

 Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

[popculturebuffet]

Loud House Season 5 Catchup (Blinded by Science, Band Together, Season’s Cheatings, A Flipmas Carol) or Of Mutants, Medicority, Merryment and Money

Merry Christmas everybody! And it’s Christmas Week so expect christmas out the jingle jangle for the next few days. And starting us off is something long overdue as coverage of the Loud House FINALLY resumes just in time for christmas. Yes it’s been over a month since the last episode and while i’ve covered two holiday episodes since then, I haven’t gotten back to season 4 despite, like Ducktales and Amphibia, it being on my roster. The answer why: I had a ton of comissions coming in, and other projects going on including ducktales coverage, so I kept putting off banned together/blinded by science for weeks.. until they coldied right into Season’s Cheatings and a flipmas carol. So yeah this one’s way too late and I will TRY not to have this happen again. I can’t promise they’ll be same day of or right on time as unlike Disney and Cartoon Network who are really good about putting their stuff on the app same day or that morning or streaming services which I own so.. yeah, Nick likes to take their sweet time sometimes and isn’t as steady with their release schedule. It’s why I ended up deciding not to do regular coverage of the casagrandes, though don’t be suprise if it shows up here on occasion as I sitll like it quite a bit. Nick is just a pain in the ass to deal with. Point is it’s here now and in time for the holiday season so i’ve delayed this long enough. Let’s get back to Season 5 after the cut

Blinded by Science:

So yeah... i’m just going to say it.. this season.. has been fucking weird. 

I mean sure there’s been plenty of normal episodes: The Boss Maybe, Strife of the Party, Kernel of Truth, Banned Together, Season’s Cheatings. There are more normal standard Loud House episodes than the weird ones... but that just makes out how looney some episodes have gotten stick out MORE. I mean among episodes tackling Leni struggling to step into Lori’s true, an obnoxious party despute, a news antics episode, Luna dealing with her career, and a holiday shenanigans episodes.. we’ve also had Lincoln get shipped off to Canada for an episode, Lincoln thwart a supervillian plot, Lori learning her school has a friendly ghost caddy that everyone who goes there knows and just accepts like that’s a normal thing, and with two of today’s episodes, Flip being some kind of monsterious miracle of science or possibly having an x gene we don’t know and then being visted by the ghosts of christmas past, present and future, who for no explained reason look and act like Lisa, Lincoln, Clyde and Lucy. 

I mean I can stretch disbelief for a lot of cartoons and i’m fine with it. Lisa does it pretty much on concept. But stretching things a bit for a joke is fine.. but it’s gotten to the point where the plots have gone from grounded slice of life stuff to really weird high concept stuff and it’s really hard to tell if this is going to work or not as Schooled and Family Bonding were not great, especially the latter, Ghosted was pretty good, Flipmas Carol was okay and this one... is decent. So it’s two good, two bad and one neutral. It’l take smore more episodes to see if this is a good thing or not.. I was leaning toward not before this block, but it’s very clear by the fact multiple writers have done this and the one whose done this the most wrote normal episodes last season, that this is an overall creative decision and thus something ‘im just going to have to live with. And hey, it gives me more material to work with so there you go.  So yeah let’s actually talk about this episode: Lisa is scrambling because she has a presentation at a big science convention, but doesn’t have any new discoveries to report. She does have snakebird though, which is exactly what it sounds like and exactly as delightful. Everyone should have one of those I don’t know how this isn’t worth presenting. Just put snakebird in hat. Lincoln comes to help because Rita heard snakebird and wanted to make sure lily was okay, and all he’s doing is taking her for a ride so it’s fine. Snakebird should be a part of my a different world style spinoff I’m just saying. Or with Stella.. I have a lot of spinoff ideas and only one of them has gotten a cease and desist from viacom so that’s progress! 

Point is Lincoln ends up being a very good big brother and takes her to flips for a flippee as that usually helps him think. He also crouchs down adorably to reach her height at one point. 

Like it’s jsut really precious to see that. It also does something the show does at it’s best: Weave the other siblings into each others plots organically. Lately they haven’t been as good at that with some exceptions and while it’s fine to have a few episodes where the rest of the family isn’t involved it is weird to just sorta.. cordon off 11 of our leads instead of giving them their own unique dynamics with each other. And while I do think Lincoln gets way to much of the spotlight at times, and his episodes have not been the best this season, I do think he works perfectly here: He’s the one with the most history with flips, so his role he ends up taking in the plot make sense, and him taking a big brother role and taking her down there is really adorable. It’s honestly easy to forget sometimes since half his sisters outage and outrank him by a lot that LIncoln has some authority and brotherly duty himself but when it crops up it’s really nice to see. 

But yeah while Lincoln’s gesture was nice it does nothing to help. But what does is Flip himself. Honestly before these episodes i’d barely seen Flip and he’s alright. He’s not bad it’s just with this having happened just a few years ago

So i’ts really hard for him to stand out in comparison when he’s kind of generic. He’s still pretty damn loveable though. And this episode has as he drops a drum of cheese on his foot, it does nothing, eats cheese right out of the barrel which.. 

I mean at least have some sanitary standards man. Get a bowl or put it in a bathtub or something. Figure it out. But yeah it turns out his heart is also in his arm, literally on his sleeve.. something they don’t point out so it’s a subtle and well done joke. 

Anyways yeah... so this is where the weird stuff comes in. Flip is some sort of miracle of science despite in all other episodes clearly being a normal human, And I like it.. while some bits of it are gross, i’m not a gross out guy so if you like that it’ll be up your ally and I respect that. But for the most part it’s just weird, bizzare stuff I can’t help but chuckle at like Flip having gills on his leg or being able to surivive freezing tempratures while not moving at all. See this works better than the spy episode in terms of what the fuck or to a lesser extent schooled because while it is fucking bizzare.. it works and it’s just swining so hard for the fences, it hits the moon. With the other two one didn’t bring it up till the end and the other just.. suddenly annoucned Royal Woods is next to canada and that lincoln taking a boat there was feasable. This just works for me.  So Lisa takes him to the conference, with Lincoln and Clyde joining in to serve snacks and promote the food and fuel which works, I also like the gag about them being late because they argued about what Science Casual meant. Lisa shows off this monstrosity and gets praise.. and a shady scientist asking if  she can use flip for her experiments which lisa talks him into and Flip agrees to because, like his agreeing to lisa’s experiments he likes money and tasks the boys with running things.  Naturally handing a miracle of science over to a shady science lady you know nothing about backfires and lisa trying to search incognito labs just blows up the computer.. somehow. Don’t think too hard about it. But LIsa finds lily petting a rat and soon finds the rat comes from flip begging for help. And upon spying on the lab, Lisa finds that flip is basically being tourtured and feels she did no better which.. no. While she did use him as a test subject, she also did so with his full consent, and for free publicity. She didn’t harm flip as while she subjected him to a lot of crap NONE of it harmed him like Ingognito’s experiments are. This attempt at a moral dosen’t work when Lisa , while still seeing only flip for his achivments, did nothing unethical. Flip willingly signed on for this and was never once in danger. And look medical trials can be unethical epsecially when people are deseperate. I get that. But here Lisa did nothing wrong and given her usual tendency to ignore scientetific ethics, that’s a lot.  Lisa goes to the boys for help and together they all sneak in and free flip in a decent sequence using various stuff from flips. The doctor for her part, as she was planning to shoot flip up into space without a suit to see if he could surivive because evil, gets blasted up. So yeah.. this episode ended with a 4 year old, an old man whose apparently a mutant of some kind x-men or otherwise and two 12 year olds having killed a woman. 

And then they all just.. have flippees for aj ob well done. I mean yes the lady deserved it but still.. you all just killed someone! YOU SHOULDN’T BE ACCEPTING THIS. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. AND WHY DOSEN’T SNAKEBIRD HAVE HIS OWN MOVIE. EPISODE OVER. 

Final Thoughts on Blinded By Science: This one was okay. Insane, VERY insane, but okay. I’ve seen way worse, from this very season but man is it weird and man is that ending just... 

Yeah that takes it down a bit but overall really enjoyed this one, Moving on. Real behind and got four to go so

Band Together: I think I have one of my many reaction images that says it best here:

Given i’ve seen pretty much every Luna episode, she’s my faviorite and i’ve been blatant about that,  and all of them are pretty good, I had high hopes for this one. And it STARTS promisingly enough: Luna is rocking out with her band which finally has a name! The Moon Goats. Which I like a lot: Besides reminding me of the objectively awesome Mountain Goats, it fits thehir personality and also reminds me of fellow teenage garage band goat cheese pizza from Zits... I miss when that strip was about teenagers and not two old men yelling about teenagers. Metaphorically. Point is I like this and my recent scott pilgrim kick means this is even better. We also find out Scoots is a huge fan of the band. Which is fantastic. Why an old lady with questionable morals is their biggest fan I do not know. We also get a band prank and fully names for the other two: Sully, the guy and Mazy the girl. I mean their not given MUCH character, Sully likes to bash his head on the keyboard and Mazy is uh there. And that is one of the episodes downsides: Despite being the first episode with Luna’s band to NOT focus on just Sam... the rest of them, and Sam really get to do nothing. The fact Sam and Luna are together dosen’t even factor into the plot. I honestly think it’s what removes the episodes punch, that we don’t KNOW these characters and thus LUna posisbly leaving them behind has no weight.  In contrast the series actually did something similar with little build up but made it work with the episode where Leni’s friends are trying to make her choose between them: Her mall coworker friends or her school friends. While we didn’t KNOW her school friends like the mall ones, the episode took time buliding them up so we got why Leni loved both and why this was so unfair to make her choose between them. Here it’s just two well designed carboards and a sam. And without the stakes of it possibly impacting Luna’s relationship, which I don’t want obviously but at least we have a stake in at this point, there’s just.. not a lot. Plus the solutions kind of obvious.  But what’s the problem? The band performs for a big manager who only needs Luna to fill in for a professional band.  The IDEA as i’ve said is good: LUna being forced to pick between her friends and her career, and both sides not being happy about it. But it’s just.. wasted. Besides clearly being bigger than 30 minutes, apparently we needed the half hour slot for a caddy ghost, this story just feels slight. Luna ends up with the other band and the manager gets on her for acting like she does with her friends.. but she’s a 16 year old who dosen’t know any better. What’d you possibly expect? none of it just really works. She goes back, no one is suprised, and the only part that really works at all.. is the ending. After welcoming luna back , as their roadie at first and clearly it’s more of a joke, Chunk plays with the band and gets Luna’s spot. THAT is not a bad ending and while I”ll miss the big lug, it’s really nice to see the guy get a big break and Chunk is low key one of my faviorite parts of the show. But otherwise yeah, this was almost nothing and given how usually FANTASTIC the Luna episodes are, this one was a really huge disapointment. No need for final thoughts moving on. 

Seasons Cheatings: This is a quick one but only because there’s no real character stuff or bad parts, i’ts just a decent if contrived holiday episodes. It’s the annual family gift swap, and Lincoln wants a backpack for (insert thing he likes #37). That being said I DO like that Lincoln isn’t just into one thing obession wise as even with my tendency to hyperfocus due to my autisim, I have TONS of things I love and glom onto. YOu can tell just by my massive assortment of reaction images and quotes. So it’s nice for a show to for once NOT have a nerdy kid just have one hero they focus on. So it’s rip hardcore this time, with a fancy backpack. Why Lincoln didn’t just ask for it for christmas is beyond me and is the only thing that bothers me about the episode. Ohterwise i’ts pretty decent; LIncoln’s trying to cheat his way to victory by getting the right sister for the swap. Which really ends up boiling down to first LIly, since the parents will choose, but since LIly did her own gift this year, he then tries one of the older sisters since obviously, they actually take this seriously and have the money to get something nice with various shenanigans including lincoln dressing up like his own mother. Neat. It’s nothing amazing but it is neat.

 Naturally he forgets his own, and has to trade his gift to Chandler to get Lola a nice gift in time. Also Chandler is apparently Lincoln’s black market hookup ala hustler kid. I genuinely love everything about this from the fact it fits his character, to the fact him being rich means there’s a genuine way he can get the resources, to the fact that despite being rich and probably not needing to do this it still fits he’d do it anyway because he’s kind of a scamp. If they use Chandler more like this, as Lincoln’s sorta shady frienemy who Lincoln and Co and possibly the sisters go to for shady schemes and crookery, i’ll be fully on board with it. Plus it might finally squeeze liam out of the group and give us someone willing to hit rusty. So all good things. 

But we do get a REALLY sweet ending as Lily, having seen her big brudder sad, paints him a picture. We also get the sweet image up top of LIsa and Lucy having given each other the same gift. Overall not a bad episode. Not nearly as good chirstmas story wise as 11 louds a leapin, but with a shorter runtime and a tight premise it still works and is still very sweet. 

A Flipmas Carol: Another very simple but alirght one.. and ANOTHER flip episode. And another one I can speed through a bit more. Basically it’s the night before christmas and Flip is taking advantage of the neighborhoods desperation with shoddy merchandise.. and forcing Lynn to work off the debt for some accidnetal damage on christmas eve and day. I mean she is legally of working age so this is legal but it’s still sketchy. Which is Flip’s wheelhouse.  Naturally this leads to a christmas Carol Parody and the weird part as the ghosts resemble and act like the loud kids> This is never explained, it’s really weird especially since Clyde ghost refrences his therapist.. but given the louds were in there and are in there enough for Flip to know them well, same with the mcbrydes, it easily could be a guilt induced hallucination or simply the ghosts taking a familiar form so i’m not going to dicker over it. It’s weird but you know not sudden super spies, golf ghosts or childrne comitting murders weird and as I mentioned up top, holiday episodes get a little more leway with me in terms of weird shit. not by a lot but by just enough. 

So they take him through what you’d expect: The Past gives Flip a sympethatic and well done origin story: Flip had a date with the girl of his dreams, but lost out due to a comination of Scoots selling him bad goods and bad tickets in middle school and vowed never to be hurt again barney stinson styles. The present shows him the consequenceds of his actions on other people’s christmas including whatever he gave the louds to make christmas dinner having turned into some form of abomination, causing him to actually feel guilt. The final one shows him having died, buired alone with no one to care in a ditch with a pizza box and having lost everything due to his practices. It ends how you’d expect, he goes to eveyrones houses and fixes things before giving the loud kids present and clearing lynn’s deabt before that happens. Not much to really dig into here, just a pretty good specail. Both of the christmas episodes are good, and while again not as good as the first one aren’t bad themselve.s 

So yeah overall this crop was okay. No real standouts, but outside of Band Together nothing bad and even that had extra scoots, luna’s band getting a name and that cheeks suish. All in all not a bad batch feels good to be caught up. Until next time courage. 

[peachybeatles]

ultimate bottom!John master post ;)

Every fic listed is mclennon, includes sexual content and is on ao3. Do feel free to add onto the list if I’ve missed anything! 

Be My Baby - crybabycry

“Tell me, Johnny,” Paul murmured, teasing his almost-auburn hair between his fingers, “were you a good boy today?”

John’s breath quickened, blush spreading as he readjusted himself on Paul’s lap. “No, Paul, I was not a good boy today.”

These Nights - Unchained_Daisychain

Music journalist John Lennon is tasked with writing an article on newfound pop artist Paul McCartney. A night of fame, music, and passion soon surround John before he knows it. By the end of it all, he’s not so sure he can manage to give up this star and these nights.

Father’s Day - ImagineBeatles

John and Paul have a different way of celebrating Father’s day.

Understanding - ImagineBeatles

John wants to know what it’s like to be fucked roughly after he had seen how much Paul had enjoyed it, when he had done it to him. Paul is more than happy to do it.

The First Scene - DemonDean10

John is an omega and has kept this secret from all his friends for years. Until one day while on their first visit to the U.S. he discovers he forgot his heat suppressants. There is an Alpha that could come to his rescue, but what will happen after the two wake up and realize what they've done.

Higher Education - smothermeinrelish

Starting anew in Edinburgh Scotland, John is hired as a conservationist at the University where he will be working along side English Literature Professor Dr. Paul McCartney. John is instantly attracted to his new supervisor and mentor, but the feelings aren't mutual? Are they? Set in modern AU, the teacher/ student relationship could be more than just a temporary fling.

You Teaser, You Pleaser - Unchained_Daisychain

John and Paul finally find time to put their new handcuffs to use.

John shrugged, but the smirk on his lips belied his nonchalance. He glanced at the handcuffs Paul held between their bodies. “Seize the moment, Macca,” he said, low, tracing a single finger along the ridges of one open cuff. “Or any accessible poles throughout the day. They always leave that part out.”

Tease Me - nipsynips

His bandmates had always called him the ‘kinky’ one, but they had always assumed it was him doing the tying and the holding down and the commanding. True enough, that was often the case, especially with birds, but it wasn’t his preference. In fact, contrary to what most people thought, John relished the chance to relinquish control every once in a while.

Patience is a Virtue - Peachy_Beatles

John is trying his best to song write despite his overactive imagination. Luckily, Paul is willing to reward him for his efforts.

Summer Rose - chanderson

John and Paul rekindle their relationship late summer 1980. John's feeling lost, and Paul's missing him in more ways than one.

Cutting Strings - Peachy_Beatles

Early 1969: With John’s increasing emotional unavailability, Paul is left clinging on to whatever he can get from him- no matter how unfulfilling.

I Blame Tumblr - DemonDean10

I would just like to apologize to the world and myself for doing this. Based off this Tumblr post by @johnsdoublechin: @ the ppl who say John isnt a bottom at my last post well I got MY SOURCES. George, Ringo, Paul, Brian, Cynthia, and Yoko have all topped him thanks for listening And so...this was born. Basically John bottoms for everyone. Everyone tops him. I did this instead of my actual fics.

Ten Minutes - ImagineBeatles, ChutJeDors

Paul had thought that his friends only wanted the best for him, with giving him a gift card to a brothel and all. Now, having ended up in a room with a stunningly handsome male whore, he needs to reconsider those ideas about his friends, and his beliefs in life altogether. It’s just for ten minutes, though… Definitely a once in a lifetime thing, and all that. Totally! Right? Right??

What Feels Right/ This Loving Game - ImagineBeatles

Paul and Julia have been going out for a while and now they’ve decided to move in together. What Paul hadn’t expected when he’d agreed was that he’d fall in love with her troublesome teenage son, John

like a river flows, surely to the sea - toppermostofthepoppermost

John is smiling around his cigarette, head thrown back, eyes fixed on the cloudy sky, and it takes Paul all of his poor will to mutter, “You shouldn’t flirt with your teachers, you know?” “In my defense, Mr. McCartney,” John quips, shifting his gaze to Paul, “you make it very hard not to.” Or: Modern-day AU where Paul spends his days teaching everything Shakespeare, getting angry at modern electronic devices, raising a five-year-old girl who's 50% puppy eyes and 50% sassy comebacks and trying not to fall in love with John Lennon, his university student.

The Consequences of Getting What You Want - deux_lunes

Why John Lennon really beat Bob Wooler up at Paul’s birthday party.

Queer - deux_lunes

Paul gives John what he desires

Discipline - deux_lunes

John has been an utter brat and Paul decides that he is in desperate need of discipline.

Skype sex.  - mickeymouse (Sgtmacca0)

day 8. john skypes paul in the middle of the night.

In the Back Seat of My Car - ImagineBeatles

Modern AU. After having met at Stuart's birthday party, John and Paul get down and dirty in the back of John's car.

It won’t be long - orphan_account

After some interesting scents were being left around everywhere the Beatles went, even without any women around, it became obvious that someone in the band is an omega and never told anyone. But no one seems to care, or even notice, but Paul. The only other alpha in the band, with John of course. And he sniffs out (literally and figuratively) who it is alone in the hotel.

James - JP (jpgr1963)

Paul helps John cope with stress while on tour in 1964.

Magical Mystery Tour Love - DemonDean10

Paul gets drunk one night during MMT filming and confesses his love for John. John had been in love for yrs and is elated. but when Paul wakes up he remembers very little of the night before, will he tell John or try to make the relationship work, even with all the moral conflicts it brings up?

Day 30: Who’s Your Daddy, Johnny Boy? - ImagineBeatles

John's been a naughty boy who needs his Daddy to punish him and make him learn his lesson. Or at least, that's what Paul thinks. Not that John isn't more than happy to indulge his lover.

Day 22: Over The Desk - ImagineBeatles

1968. John keeps bothering Paul while he's busy doing management stuff, which is highly irritating for the younger Beatle, especially seeing as John makes it abundantly clear he isn't going to leave until he gets what he came for. In the end, John gets a little more than he bargained for.

Day 18: Lazy Morning Sex - ImagineBeatles

John and Paul spend the morning in bed together.

Day 6: Clothed Getting-Off - ImagineBeatles

John had seen Paul watching him, eyes hot and determined, so he was not at all surprised when he was dragged into an alleyway and pushed up against a brick wall to have his lips positively snogged off.

 I Want You - sockittoem

“In which John gets really horny after doing coke, and needs Paul to fuck it out of him.”

The Night Before - andthemoondogs

[ Anon McLennon prompt: "The Night Before" ] John and Paul have a night of drunken sex, after which, John panics and gives Paul the cold shoulder until Paul finally confronts him about it.

Day 7: Naked/Dressed - ImagineBeatles

1964. On the set of A Hard Day's Night, John and Paul cannot get one particular scene right in which Paul has to drag John away from a couple of girl as they try to find Paul's grandfather on the train, so they sneak off to practise the scene together. Soon, however, the boys have other things on their minds than rehearsing a scene.

Kiss Me - orphan_account

Mimi is gone for a trip, and when John and Paul meet at John's house for practice, things don't go quite as planned.

masturbation. - mickeymouse(Sgt macca0)

day 4. paul masturbates at the thought of john.

bottoms up. - ffomixam

“Can we get some mclennon with a possessive, dominant paul and compliant john? (technically doesn’t have to be smut)”

breathe desperation. - ffomixam

 McLennon smut, something along the lines of a first time, unexpected, adrenaline fueled, thoughtless, desperate handsy-ness and making out backstage after a show with John as the more submissive and needy one?

love me harder. - ffomixam 

Could you write a fic about Paul fucking John in public while in Hamburg, being really rough and dominant and teasing John that someone’s going to hear them and see John taking it up the arse, and John just devolves into a cummy fucked-out mess.

Of Hot Chocolate and Rainy Nights - paulmcfartney

yall already know what's goin on ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I feel like I’m the worst, so I act like im the best - KiwiPillow

John, a young ravishing man, who is absolutely uninterested in anything but himself really, gets pursued by his roommate to try a dating website! What could go wrong? Well, maybe your "match" could turn out to be a bastard stalker mobster boss with a serious daddy kink, who wants to work on your attitude. Shocked and upset. In the mob bosses defence, John is annoying as hell in this.

[pratyayasingh]

ANXIETY: it just stops your life…

Anxiety: Everyone is familiar with this term, everyone experience this many times in his/her life time. Generally, it’s obvious to get anxious in some situations like before exams, interview time or during result time….. such kind of anxiety is quite common and mostly go/ vanish once the instance is over… In most of the cases, there is always a reason behind why person is anxious and if we address that reason, a person can succesfully deal with this situation.

But when anyone  start feeling anxious with out any reason like, suppose you are sitting on your couch,enjoying your coffee , watching your favourite show and suddenly you start feeling heaviness in your chest, suddenly your heart is pounding ,gets throbbing… you start sweating, trembling, restless……and when you calm down you try to recall what happen?? and you realised  that  actually you don’t have any clue why this is happening to you,you trying to find out but you get no answer, no specific answer and when such incidents start happening more frequently then this anxiety is called CHRONIC ANXIETY DISORDER (CAD).

Anxiety not only means that you feel only low but it also means you feel very high too but one thing is common you wont have any reason for either of these states….like it can be understood that your electrons are always into excited mode not at its normal state ,you either feel too low or too high….🤨😔🙂

There can be anything that can make you anxious when you have CAD[ Chronic anxiety disorder] this something or anything  is named as triggers….. list of triggers is so long and  varies so much from person to person that it’s practically not possible to pen them down.

I ,personally, dealing with this CAD so I can very well know how difficult this situation is, sometimes even a word like ‘shame’ can trigger or aggravate the anxiety… though if we look into literal meaning of shame it is not a very positive word but it’s very general/ common to use such words in not negative way. Is it possible to avoid such triggers… Mmm… according  to me it’s not practically possible. How such things can be avoided??, it’s only possible if you just lock yourself or just raise walls around you so high that you just be with yourself only…… and icing on cake is that even if disconnect ourselves from all people,still we get anxious ,this is the most worst.

And its a sigh!! that there is no magic, no silver bullet which you can just pop in  and get rid of anxiety…. 😒😒and funny part is the medicines being prescribed to control anxiety,they all have anxiety,depression as side effect,isn’t it funny?

Its a very tricky and vicious circle, you just can’t go and tell everyone around you that look please don’t do this, don’t do that because I’m a CAD patient and Irony is we really need support, a good support system to deal / fight with this condition. Very few are lucky ones that get such strong support system actually I think(its my perception) it’s very difficult to get such support afterall they’re humans, they’ve their own limitations so I just wonder what should/ can be done in such situations? How to break this circle, how to deal with it at your own level without creating negative impact on persons in inner circle of your life?

My this problem increased to the point where it starts impacting my role as mother.I am lucky that im blessed with very understanding boy but I started feeling that my this situation is giving, putting negative impact on my son’s life.I started expecting more understanding from him,which is not right, afterall he is just a my little boy and

It puts me on roller coaster ride of guilty.

Now the million dollar question is how to treat this condition or atleast manage it so it cant impact negatively on our lives.

My personal understanding from my own situation is that the most important thing is to accept this condition, this anxiety… it’s very important to accept that it’s fine, it’s okay if we’ve CAD or anyother kind of anxiety or mental health issues. Its not something to hide or run from it. Second, important part is to understand that it is treatable just like most of other physical ailments. Third , part is to take help of not only physchiatrist , but also of physchologist as former one mostly deals with medicines , but former one can help us to address the hidden triggers for anxiety, which we may find are not triggers . Along with all this, we can incorporate yoga, meditation, mindfulness, inner child therapies. Moderate exercise , with healthy diet can help to cope with this condition. Its absolutely fine, okay to seek help from family or friends if possible.

The first step is very important that is to accept your condition asap. I, myself, took long time to accept that I can have anxiety , I always think I’m a strong person with tough mind, such mental health issues can’t happen to me and here I’m today, tried all the medications and now waiting for rtms and hoping that after this treatment, my condition will come to initial stage and then I’ll start my journey to get rid of it or manage it using the possibilites I mentioned above because as of now by the time I accepted that I have anxiety, I have become already Chronic anxiety disorder patient and I didnot realise when I reach so far on the path of medicines, that doing yoga , meditation etc become a big task for me, I just can’t do it.

But, still because of the help of my friends, my physchologist I did not lose my sanity and I’m still seeking help though I got panic attacks almost once in an hour but don’t know what’s that thing in me which tells me still you can come out of all this .

So , accept the problem, don’t hide it, seek medical help, family and friends help if possible…….enough for now Pratyaya #panicdisorder #anxiety #mentalhealth

[clowngremlin]

i had a crying fit because my dad and brother were arguing but my brother kept telling me i needed to get a job AND go to school for these two semesters because im moving out of my dad’s house in the spring and i lost my student loan for a few semesters because i failed my classes due to being mentally ill, (moving out is being forced upon me, its not truly my choice and its making me lose my mind from anxiety.....just one of the many things causing me to have panic attacks lol) and i keep trying to explain to him that im applying for disability assistance because my therapist thinks i’d qualify because i have such debilitating anxiety i have panic attacks almost every day (i have had a lot less since being put on the new medication when i went to the hospital, so i dont get them every day but i get them often enough) and sometimes cant even go outside because im too scared/anxious, and then my dad tried to tell my older brother that i CANT work and get disability payments at the same time, and it made them argue even more and i got so overwhelmed that i started crying.....my brother just wanted to rag on the government for not helping disabled people, i dont think he really cared if i was going to be poor or not, and he seems to romanticize being poor and working class and keeps telling me i have to work AND go to school, even though i cant do that because it causes me so much stress and anxiety that i end up doing poorly at school and i cant afford to do poorly at school anymore!!!!! like i fucked up my grades so bad at the last school i went to and i need to do better at school to get my student loan back!!!!! and my dad was frustrated with me because i dont have a lot of life skills and because im mentally ill, but i’ve been doing a lot better with my mental health since being put on seroquel, but i do get anxious about starting tasks and so i put them off because idk how to start and i get overwhelmed, but my therapist gave me coping skills for when i get overwhelmed by trying to start a task and its to do the task in small chunks and eventually i will have it all done!! i also told my dad that i find it helpful if he gives me a time frame to do the tasks in, like yesterday i had to phone the doctor to make an appointment, and he told me to do it before he got back from walking the dog and so i did it, and so idk having a specific time frame to do something in helps me get started.....idk where im going with this, im just kind of stressed out and overwhelmed rn and my family doesnt really seem to care lol.....im almost 24, like next month i’ll be 24 and i feel like such a fuck up because i have problems doing every day tasks and managing my money (i am doing better at that though! i am trying really hard to budget and show my dad that i can manage my money by myself!!) and idk how to cook things like meat unless its in a stir fry or like ground beef in a pan for spaghetti sauce, and that sometimes i get so anxious i cant even go outside because im so scared of getting the coronavirus..... i am trying to be better though, but no one in my family seems to acknowledge it, like i basically am recovering from anorexia with minimal support because i can only afford to see my therapist once every month and a half, i also weight restored myself because i used to be dangerously underweight from the anorexia, the coronavirus situation is hard for EVERYONE too, like everyone is having a hard time coping with it and i have predisposition  to having severe anxiety and panic attacks, and i wasnt even on the proper meds for my bipolar disorder until last month, like i was only on a low dose of an antipsychotic and like prozac, and i was literally just put on a mood stabilizer in december after i had a psychotic episode and had to go to the hospital, but i have found the new medication to be really helpful, im doing a lot better with my depression since being on it, and im not having psychotic symptoms anymore, and its even helping with my anxiety, but today i got overwhelmed because my dad and my brother were like yelling at each other in front of me while my brother tried to be incredibly negative and berate me under the guise of “looking out for me” and then my dad got mad at me because he was mad at my brother and so i started crying, but my dad stopped yelling at me and we talked about it in a constructive way and came up with ideas on how to help me do better and get some skills, and then i went and did some things for starting classes tomorrow which was really good and made me feel better because i was doing something productive and a task i needed to do (putting all the important upcoming dates and assignment due dates from the course outline for my forensic anthropology class in my little planner!!) and then i had a snack and talked to one of my friends, and now i guess im just writing this to get it off my chest because i just needed to vent but i didnt want to like vent to anyone in particular or in the vent channel in the server i mode for so im just making this post and i dont really expect anyone to read it but i just needed to get it off my chest and out of my head to feel better!!!  

[loxxxlay]

Okay long rambling update for anyone who was concerned and for my own personal notes

First, I had to delete the post because I remembered I’m not supposed to tell anyone about my friend’s plans and I’m not sure who IRL follows me on here... (I don’t think it’s anyone who would know context, if anyone IRl at all, but... she’s my bestest friend so better to be safe). 

So in lieu of deleting the post, quickly want to say thank you to @midnight-mismanagement and @thelightofthingshopedfor for supporting me <3 i know it seems like just a little bit to send me hearts or a hug, but goddamn, whenever I’m in an episode like that, it’s a big part of what keeps me from walking two blocks over to the library and jumping off the roof lmao. So thank you T_T <3 <3 <3 i can’t say how much it means to me that you both care (and thank you to anyone who has ever comforted me at such a time)

Anyway now for update... I’m in Ritalin-Ramble-Hour so it’s gonna be longer than necessary.. but it’s mostly so I remember what happened when I go to therapy because I probably won’t remember any of this in 3 hours (especially because I’m super loopy on drugs for most of it)

So, I’m feeling a lot better! I took a fourth of a clonazepam pill and it took until now (maybe a couple hours) to work but I’m a lot calmer now. So calm that I was actuallly able to convince myself to take a ritalin half an hour ago. (For some reason, I was scared taking ritalin would just make the Emotional Bursting Chaos inside my brain worse. During the RSD/Panic ep, I wasn’t planning to take ritalin at all today, but with how calm I am now, I figured it was still early enough in the day to get away with it. (If I don’t take it, I’ll get tired too early and just scroll facebook all evening instead of do things.)

I did self harm a little :/ I tried really hard not to. I went to the bathroom and cried and half-screamed a little. I tried stabbing, ripping, and drawing my pen over the paper angrily, and nothing worked. :( I literally could not cope, even like 30 minutes after clonazepam. I was just dying and having repeated “kill yourself” or “kill your best friend” thoughts lmao, and they needed to stop. I am at work lol, I can’t have thoughts like that at work. So it was just 3 barely anything scratches from a staple on my arm. I’ve never done something to make myself bleed, but this time was even lighter than usual. (Maybe I should doublecheck that I’ve received a tetanus shot recently though.)

Then after that, I was more like... hopeful? My brain was actually trying to get out of the funk instead of just struggling to breathe. So my brain was like, “dude, there’s a song in frozen 2 that fits your feelings perfectly,” maybe that will help you channel this out and start “doing the next right thing” (or i.e. my next work task lmao). So I just listened to that song on repeat for a few minutes and then finally got myself to start working.

Zoned out in work for a while, hyperfocused. Still kinda was scatterbrained and disoriented, so it took me 5 times longer to do things than usual. But by the time I finished the next 2 tasks on my list, my clonazepam was working and I’m back here now.

Not happy. Very unhappy still. Very fragile and numb right now lmfao. I deactivated my facebook for 2 reasons: 1) so that I don’t forget about promise to secrecy and start vague posting all about it, surely ruining our friendship... and 2) so my RSD doesn’t make me start screaming hatred at my friend for things that aren’t her fault (RSD likes to trick me into thinking it’s her fault and blaming her :/ like “how could she do this to me” rhetoric). (and 3 because im an attention whore wondering if anyone on there will notice or care lmfao)

In general, I’m kinda angry at my friend. She offers to do things to help me through crap and then she changes her mind later for her own benefit... which is her right. She has to live in a way that makes her happy, and she doesn’t have to help me through anything. It’s more.. the flip-flopping. Like I wish she hadn’t offered in the first place, because now I just feel... really strung along and really betrayed... I don’t feel like I can trust her anymore? :/ Very upset about that. (fyi, she is sorry about hurting me like this btw. she’s not mean. just indecisive)

So yeah, I don’t wanna talk to her until I sort out what I really feel versus what RSD is telling me to feel :/ bleh :/ so I guess in a few days, we’ll decide whether she’s my best friend or not anymore

deep breaths.

Just gonna try to quit thinking about it for a while.

Sorry for rambling, I’ll delete this once I show my therapist in a few weeks.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

let's do a classic Primez ask

thank you lol Prime Time is.....6 am is when im posting this, christ lol what else is new around here........Good Morning in advance lol and [rise and shine sailors it be monday]

2: Favorite book?

i don’t have one lol

3: Favorite fictional character?

i also don’t Properly have like, all-time ultimate Faves in these kind of categories either, but there’s still standouts at least lol......obviously lately it might show that i’m enjoying winston billions a lot, and natch that’s just One of the many wrol roles i’ve been glad to discover. natch winston, jared, and jeremy are fave raves amonth them

5: What’s your favorite fictional ship? (Canon or otherwise)

this is the same as the [fave fictional characters] thing in that like, sometimes i’ll Consume something where i don’t have any, and generally i’m out here multishipping and not like live or die by one Specific Pairing, if i like a character i’ll also probably like Many of their dynamic/s with various other characters, unless the options are That limited.......tying this in to the fave fictional character thing, re: winston, naturally tayston and benston, aka the fruits of us all combining our Genius, are top tier and here’s riawin where we don’t know for sure where it’s going but we’re getting some great Dynamic(tm) stuff anyways.....and natch re: jared i Enjoy Kleinsen (as something to make up ideas about that are outside canon and also as a perspective thru which to analyze canon) and re: jeremy.....stagedorks is beautiful, wild to have canon just give you some content that’s already as good as that

7: List 3 negative traits you have 

well i can be fairly anxious about certain things, which is mostly negative for me lol.........a more negative 2-way street is that i’m just generally in defensive mode around people lol, often i’m like, just trying to avoid Attention entirely and/or like uh oh attention, gotta try to just avoid taking damage from it lol.......on a gradual journey to just being default More Unpleasant / less accommodating lmao......not that i can’t be sometimes, or that i can’t be Genuinely Friendly with randos coz i like their vibe and actually Like socializing lol.........and then re: the challenges of socializing, it seems like maybe when i’m in an interaction i get caught up in [uh oh how do i Respond a) at all b) in a way that’s Good(tm)] and it maybe makes me less attentive to the other person / a worse Listener smh

11: How do you decide when it’s time to cut someone out of your life for good?

idk luckily it’s not something i’ve had to do left and right lol.......but ime it’s Also not exactly like. usually a “ah Now Is The Time to have zero relationship with this person” and most often it’s like [gradual distancing period that is mostly passive] and/or just choosing Not to reinitiate any sort of relationship........though re: more active approaches lol it’s more like. time to try to tune into my [does this feel like something indefinitely sustainable / something you actually Want to have continue in any way] gauge or whatevs. and then still it’s like, sometimes easier if moments happen to come along that provide an [opt out?] choice presented to you kinda lol.........if it’s someone You don’t want to be involved with really but they don’t feel the same and it’s “on you” to decide to peace out at some point it’s more difficult coz such [do you want to opt out]-distilled Moments probably don’t seem to manifest but i think that’s a useful thing to be aware of in itself........i.e. that there’s not always going to be a Narrative-Friendly “point of no return” / clear Line Being Crossed and even if it Doesn’t feel like “i can’t / don’t want to deal with this for Literally one more day” that doesn’t mean you should totally stick it out / don’t have enough reason to decide that you are Done at this particular moment even if you haven’t been Done prior or think you plausibly hold off on it. don’t need to have some kind of story where you think if you Explained it to anyone or everyone it’d universally be understood and everything would applaud like “Yes, the Right Decision” lmao like. not their business....

13: What are your favorite lyrics currently?

well with our groupchat in the replies to that Eternally Crying Over The Bar Song post..........just enjoy the “stay here for a while / cuz it’s nice / cuz it’s holy” part of the refrain, a fun part of the music, and that classic iconis like, lyrics being in a sort of character Voice and yet getting the idea / feelings across effectively even when the words are sort of general or simple.......”shooting from the heart / but we’re all a lousy shot” is great lol and also “say you will always be here” ending with “for one more” is like, there’s another Broader Idea / Sentiment expressed so effectively :’|

17: If you could make a wish, what would you wish for if you knew it would come true?

i can’t do any fun answers lmao it’d just be like [political commentary] but that’s warranted lbr

19: How do you handle heartbreak? Is it something that’s easy for you to get over, or something you struggle with?

lmao i think it is like By Definition not easy for anyone to get over / Not struggle with.........can’t say i’ve had Romantic Misadventures exactly but uh yeah it feels bad to feel bad but i like......wait it out???? idk lmao you can’t really just timeskip past.....Heartbreak Sucks For Everyone Cuz That’s Kind Of The Whole Thing

23: What do you want your future to be like?

pandemic-less, fascism-less........i can’t say i’ve ever been someone like “yea i Know what i want to do and have this whole plan set out how i’m gonna do it lol” i remember when i was like 4 or 5 or whatever being asked What Do You Want To Do When You Grow Up and i was like “shit idk.......i like dinosaurs so i guess paleontologist??” and it was as much a mystery going forward.........always and still mostly playing things by ear with a few vague “if / then” type ideas......aren’t we all though ig

29: Do you think zodiac signs can influence someone’s personality to an extent?

what do i know but i Don’t like or respect the recent years trend ppl being way into it like this isn’t [being really serious about hogwarts houses] or Earnest Myer Briggs Types energy that everyone’s bringing to it......like what are you getting out of trying to be this Prescriptive based on when ppl’s parents got into it. meanwhile i’ve been on the edge of my seat since someone tweeted about “when will we get the first astrology discrimination lawsuit” re: a story about ppl wanting a housemate with a certain sign for compatibility reasons. and like again if it Is like “yes there are time-of-year Personality Types for Objective Real” like. okay, still, what is this Approach that ppl have....doing for anyone.....

31: What does ‘self care’ look like for you?

not very fancy lol i’ll be like “damn i think i haven’t eaten today” and then do it......or be like hey here i’m gonna Do A Stretch or some shit. walk around. step outside if it’s nice. both true that Self Care has inherent limitations re: like we can’t just cancel out all the detriments to our wellbeing via Personal Choices and yet also we can’t Not look out for ourselves how we can......i’ll watch something that i Enjoy. or just knock out if it’s like “christ i need a mood reset” or i’m trying to timeskip through a headache. pet a cat. i like to try to be Appreciative of everyday ordinary shit......also messing around Making Stuff whether drawings or otherwise can be a good helpful use of time, i like talking to people who i like talking to, and other stunning stuff like that lol

37: Have you ever been surprised by someone staying in your life?

not really lol coz again with how i’m pretty slow to realize that someone is like, nonzero actively interested in interacting with me on a regular basis, and then once someone’s In My Life there’s no particular point where i go “whoa....You’re still here??”......ig sometimes there’s like, Friendly Acquaintances where it’d be Unsurprising if they just sort of dropped fully out of the orbit but they do not

41: How do you show you care?

hmm i sure like to do ppl favors / give them gifts / help them out w/ whatever, hang out / generally be Around them where like, doing [parallel tasks] works i.e. maybe we’re doing different things but in the same room.....just like to Talk and all and listen to ppl and Learn Things About Them, try to pick up stuff re: ways that ppl express like “hey to me it conveys Being Cared About when ppl do ___”........food/cooking is a love language......that thing where shit you’d be way too anxious to do on your own For Yourself is like, oh i’m absolutely gonna do it on behalf of someone i care about.......all this stuff is more like, Possible in person lmao rip. i Care you guys

43: Which of the seven deadly sins do you feel represents you the most?

who is your hellsona and what is their origin story (how they got condemned to hell).........if i’m irritable / argumentative am i wrathful? you could presumably someone saying yep it is inherently the one deadly sin of lust if you’re queer.......at any given time i’m passed out and dreaming about “fuck capitalism and the protestant work ethic” and that’s sloth i guess. and okay i went “who named an animal after a The Deadly Sin as if it’s like ‘wow fuck this animal for choosing not to zoom around as though they could and i apparently think that they should’ tf” and in looking it up i immediately learned the Sloth Fact that apparently their shits are insane and also the most dangerous thing they do?? like they poop only maybe once a week and All At Once so that a single dump might knock off a third of their total weight........and it’s pretty much the only time they leave the upper branches of trees, in that they crawl down to hold on to the trunk and take this monster shit and naturally they’re not great on the ground so Pooping is like the leading cause of death for sloths in the wild. and i think they ought to be named after that. 

47: What are you passionate about?

oh man [i am passionate a lot.mp3] lol.........always having a variety of Interestes which i like to talk about / potentially make things about.......decent amount of subjects i like to learn things about even if  i’m bad at like, actually learning things generally lmao, what’s Not losing focus on shit.......idk it’s not that hard for me to like go off about Whatever, got these jack of all trades interests / areas of Some knowledge, i’m opinionated and probably have something (extensive) to say about anything as just part of my charm lol, and just in general i can get Enthused / worked up about things..........also passionate about various [niche gay shit] things eternally. whoms among us isn’t