#this 6 foot whatever his height is man appearing from no one when you didn’t even hear him apparoaxhinf

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

jason needs to ominously appear from the shadows more often

[vanaera]

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 8.2k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); heavy descriptions of a hit-and-run; mentions of blood from injuries (PG-16 Rating)

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

              The skies were gray and the streets were damp and yet the air remains humid. The scorching heat on the pavement permeates the soles of his leather combat boots. It’s the familiar stench of Down Hill. Jungkook could already smell it when he’s just reaching the boundary between it and Middle Town.

              Jungkook looks down at the scrap of paper that’s been in his pocket since the day started. Namjoon had to write the address of this Y/N L/N, lest DOJ traces his electronic trail and take him in for unnecessary questioning. Jungkook himself had to make up some petty excuse of a “hurting arm” to file a day-off. He just hopes all of this spent effort will worth him something.

              Jungkook nears the 7-Eleven sitting in the fork of the streets. Namjoon wrote Y/N’s studio is cramped among the apartments around this area. He said she never really penned down a home to accommodate covert meet-ups like this. All she has is her studio. 

              In “Mini Palais, 23-B,” Jungkook mutters again, huffing in front of a door with cracking cadet blue paint. He finds the unit after climbing up a series of stairs at the end of the alleyway jammed between the decaying 7-Eleven and a battered motor shop. Jungkook raises his hand to knock when the door bursts open.

              In front of him is a girl. Namjoon already said so and although Jungkook thinks it’s accurate enough for the girl who’s looking up at him through chopped raven bangs, it also wasn’t really enough to describe her. Because the girl in front of him was an aberrant mix of a girl and a woman. Jungkook thinks she’s around her early thirties if he were to consider Namjoon’s history of working with her for about ten years in FJO. There are faint lines around her eyes to support that. However, her relatively small height, plump cheeks, and the natural rosy hue of her lips beg to decrease ten years off that supposed age.  With her youthful face, messy half-bun, and the white, floral off-shoulder dress flowing past her knees, no one will argue with Jungkook if he were to say she’s just 22. 

              “Who are you?”

              “Oh, um,” Jungkook flashes his badge, “I’m Jungkook Jeon, a captain in the Federal Justice Organization. Precrime, Murder sector. I’m here to um, avail your…services for a case.”

              The girl cocks her head to the side and gives him a once over. “I’m sorry, I don’t do services for the FJO anymore.” She moves to close the door but Jungkook was quick to block a foot between it and the wall.

              “I’m a contact of Namjoon’s!” Jungkook exclaims, “He’s Lieutenant Seokjin Kim’s close subordinate.” This is a card he didn’t want to use but it looks like he has no other choice left. Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, I’m a very close contact of Namjoon. We’re best friends. I even live with him. He’s the one who told me to, um, consult you for the case I’m handling.” 

              The girl opens the door an inch. Jungkook hands a folded paper to her. She spreads it open and scans through the letter. Jungkook doesn’t know what it actually says. Namjoon just thrust it into his hands on his way out and told him not to open it. It must be an effective personal request because by the time the girl reaches the end, she’s pushing her door wide open, tilting her head to the side, beckoning him to come inside. However, her face remains grim.

              “I’m Y/N L/N. This is my studio. I know you already know I prefer to transact business here even for ones intended to be covert. So first off, I want to say I’m sorry you have to travel to such a place like this.”

              Jungkook shakes his head, “Oh no, it’s definitely alright—”

              “I kinda think it’s not when you grew up in a comfortable life. You must be quite shaken up.”

              Jungkook freezes. Y/N looks at him, “Oh, I didn’t look into you or something. It’s just a hypothetical guess, seeing your,” she motions to his silver watch. “That’s expensive. No one from here will be able to afford it anytime soon.”

              Jungkook’s shoulders turn lax. Y/N points to a chair next to a table in the corner. “Just wait there. I’m about to finish this piece in just a sec. Then I’m all yours.”

              Jungkook nods and makes himself comfortable on the seat. Unlike its appearance on the outside, Y/N’s unit is not much of a concrete wreck. It still looks a bit rough. The ceiling has cracks all over it.  A small white bulb precariously hangs on its center. It looks too weak to illuminate the whole room when the night comes. Jungkook thinks it’s a good thing that the unit has huge gaping rectangular windows to let in the natural light. The floor is cemented in gray but the work on it is unimpressive as there are numerous uneven layers, rough patches, and dents that could only be ascribed to poor mason work. The white wallpaper is torn around, some even wet at the edges—probably due to a leak during rains. 

              However, the flowers painted on them is vibrant enough to uplift the dreary unit. Paintings are littered around. Many are big, a few are small. Some were seated on easels, several are just laying around on the floor. Newspapers are strewn across the majority of the floor. Buckets and tin cans of paints line up the corners like a prayer circle. 

              All the colors present in the room can only be attributed to the paint that’s strewn across the newspapers, the paintings, and the 6’ tall canvas of an owl in flight Y/N is currently working on. The girl is standing on a small foldable ladder, painting the feathers of the bird at the top of the canvas. When the wind blows her hair to the side, Jungkook finds a mirage of colors on the scarlet spider lilies inked on her spine.

              After about two minutes, Y/N steps down and dumps her brush into a rusted bucket filled with water. She turns to the man on the chair and makes her way to the stool opposite his. She fixes down her dress and finally looks at Jungkook. “So, what case do you have for me?”

              “This,” Jungkook slides a couple of pictures toward her. They are the screen captures from the CCTV records that caught the black Jaguar. “There’s an unknown driver who’s doing an illegal time jump patterned to Precrime’s traveling agents. We tried to run in the license plate but it just turned to be ‘invalid.’ All we know is that the suspect is male, slim, and tall. He’s interested in the Winston Assassination, and has probably inside ties in FJO since he easily entered the Special Operations Building just ten days ago.”

              “None of the traveling agents has seen this man before? Precrime or Forecrime?”

              Jungkook shakes his head.

              Y/N licks a finger and flips to the next picture, “What about the car?”

              “None of the agents has seen a suspicious sedan sports Jaguar before. It’s the first time we have someone presumably well-to-do threatening the justice system.”

              Y/N nods. Jungkook inserts his hand into his pocket and retrieves a black USB. He hands it to the girl. “Here’s more of the screenshots from the CCTVs, taken in each second. I can’t give you the CCTVs because of the protocol. I can only give you these. Just imagine they’re moving,” Jungkook purses his lips as he looks at the girl. “I want you to identify this man for me.”

              Y/N tucks the USB into her dress’ pocket. She slides the pictures back to Jungkook. “This seems to be a heavy identification check then. Not that I couldn’t handle, of course. However, Namjoon must have told you that my rates are quite high—”

              “Money is not a problem.”

              Y/N cocks a brow, “So you did grow up a comfortable life.”

              Jungkook clenches his jaw.

              Y/N chuckles, “Okay, I’m not gonna dwell on it more. It’s settled then. Send your weekly payment to this account,” Y/N tears a piece from the rolls of paper by her side, scribbles on it, and hands it to him. “Every Friday, 10 AM sharp.” Jungkook looks at the paper before tucking it in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

              Y/N crosses her arms, “We can start next week after you give me the downpayment.”

              Jungkook zips open a duffel bag and places a stack of bills on the table.

              “Eager, aren’t we?” Y/N smiles, “I like that.” She flips through the bills before deciding they’re legitimate and dumping it into a box by her feet. 

              Y/N turns to him. “Now, where are we? Oh—you must already know, but what I really do here is foreseeing the future for whatever cause you have. It’s not just trivial fortune-telling but a purposive one. I can accurately give you whatever you want to know.” 

              Jungkook nods. Y/N’s leans forward on the table. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t really have terms and conditions with my clients. Or any contract to ensure them their protection, as what I do tend to…increase risks. Emotional security and mental stability on your part. Those two and physical toll on mine. It will be absurd to provide any contract as what I am doing is anything but guaranteeing protection. I can’t also be fully transparent about the mechanisms behind the things I will do for you. Otherwise, my gift won’t work. What I can only assure is I’ll never proceed on any memories you have set boundaries on. Should you decide to stop this negotiation anywhere in the future, I will automatically concede and keep the confidentiality of whatever that may happen. As long as on your part, you won’t consider asking for a refund.”

              “I understand.”

              “Good,” Y/N smiles, “Now first things first. Tell me any hurting point you have.”

              Jungkook goes stiff. “Is this actually necessary?”

              Y/N nods. “I know this is a tough question, but we’re talking about memories here.”

              “I know but I can’t just divulge them to a stranger—"

              “I think you don’t get what I’m saying.” Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle. “Look, Jungkook, when I attempt to see the future concerning this elusive driver you’re after, it is inevitable for the past to re-appear. There is no future without any past. Your past memories can clog up with the ones involved in the case because you are in the case. You’re heading it. Good or bad, memories will come up. That’s their thing.  They spring up at the most inconvenient times. No matter how old they already are. No matter how long you must have already moved on from them. Memories demand to be remembered and you cannot just disregard them even if you will it to because it never gave anyone a choice to do otherwise.  So, if you don’t set the boundaries on the memories you don’t want me to cross, I’ll just see everything in their utter unadulterated form.” Y/N leans forward, “And I can assure you, you don’t want that to happen.” 

              Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue. “Fine. I’ll give you my hurting point and that’s that. No further questions.”

              “Okay.”

              Jungkook digs in his back pocket for his wallet and flips it open. There’s a tattered white edge of a picture peeking through the flaps. It’s been years since he pulled it out. Its replica, now tucked in his shelf, has prevented him from doing so for so many years. Jungkook closes his eyes and slides it toward the girl. “This boy. Anything that concerns him, I don’t want you to cross or even bring up. Understand?”

              “Okay.” Y/N hands back the photo to him. “We go to the second step then. You must already have your assumed suspects. Tell me their names.”

              Jungkook draws back. “I can’t tell you that, that’s highly classified information. FJO’s protocol doesn’t allow it and—”

              “Do you seeking my help part of the protocol?”

              Jungkook looks down, “No.”

              “Right. So, tell me their names. I need to know them to make a memory map.”

              Jungkook’s brows meet “A what?”

              “A memory map,” Y/N repeats, “It’s something I make to identify points of certain memories in time. It guides me to the memories I need to tread to reach what I’m really looking for. It’s like a demo version of Forecrime’s box trainings but except of a machine, I’m doing it manually by hand. For all we know, the real suspect must be close to these suspects.” 

              Jungkook’s brow quirks up.

              Y/N leans forward, “So, tell me their names?”

              Jungkook turns his face away from her, looking at his clasped hands. “Well, I…only have one.”

              “And that is?”

              “Leigh Anderson. Winston’s assassin. FJO has been after him for 17 years. He also has a number of sponsors who’s been sending him missions with promises of large sums of money. But most of all, he’s rumored to have access to time jumping technologies. Illegal of course. FJO is the only one licensed to be utilizing them.”

              “That’s good,” Y/N quips. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

              Jungkook turns to his duffel bag and retrieves a picture. It’s Anderson in the scene of Winston’s murder that FJO has pinned to their system. The one in the crime record Jungkook produced. He hands it to Y/N. “Is this enough?”

              “More than enough,” Y/N smiles. She stands up and walks to one of her cupboards, reaching for a ceramic bowl. She pours some tap water in it and turns back to the table, a short, white candle in hand. She places the candle on the water, letting it float. She retrieves a lighter from her dress pocket and lights up the wick of the candle.

              Y/N puts her palms open on the table. “Let’s start now. Do you have your clicker with you?”

              Jungkook’s brows meet. “What?”

              “Your time jumper,” Y/N grits.

              Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “I don’t see any reason why would you need it—”

              “We’re going to the past to have a tangible memory to start on my memory map.” Before Jungkook could tear himself away from the table, Y/N launches forward and snatches the small, black device hanging on the man’s belt loop. Jungkook shoots an arm out and grabs onto it.

              But it’s too late. Y/N’s already pushed the button.

              The air is knocked out of Jungkook’s windpipe. A numbing pain starts to settle on his chest, a migraine forming on his temple. His limbs also feel stone-heavy. Precrime traveling has always been like this and yet Jungkook can never get used to it. However, he’s not left wondering about it for long because in the next second, Jungkook’s standing in front of a dark road. Tall shrubs and trees shadowing the moon, CCTVs mounted on the lamp posts lining the concrete. It’s Somerset Road.  

              Jungkook’s eyes widen. Why is he here? He tries to move but his limbs are stuck by his side, unmoving as he grunts. He tries to take a step back but the effort is futile when his feet are seemingly glued onto the dark asphalt. Jungkook sighs and turns to the road in front of him again. And this time around, Jungkook’s mouth falls ajar.

              Y/N is standing idly at the other side of the road, opposite of him.

              “H-how did you travel here—”

              A car zooms past. Jungkook turns his head to the sound. The air is punched out from his esophagus. It’s his car—the silver-gray Ford. And there at the other end of the road emerges a black sedan sports Jaguar. The Jaguar speeds on and drives into the Ford, swerving it around, tires screeching loud on the pavement. It topples down, rolling around, then round, and round. Three times, Jungkook counted. Just like the CCTV Hoseok retrieved. The Ford stops, upside down. The black Jaguar zips past it. Like the CCTVs have shown, the Jaguar reaches the other end of the street and disappears. A second passes. The body of the driver in the car drops onto the cold pavement. It lolls his head to his side, bloodied face turned towards the man standing on the pavement. 

              Jungkook’s facing right into his past. He isn’t reliving the memory. He is living it. There’s no anger but pain. Fresh, unadulterated pain that cannot be accounted to the lacerations on his injured arm.

              The wind howls. Jungkook remains frozen in his position. Then suddenly, everything stops—the distant honking of the cars, the wind, the clatter of the crushed car pieces falling onto the ground. What the fuck is happening? Jungkook turns around, only to come face to face with the girl.

              Y/N’s arm shoots forward and fists the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him down to her level. “You didn’t say this business is personal!”

              “It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook spits, tearing her hand off him.

              “It is, Jungkook! You said you were involved. I didn’t think it was this level of involved!”

              “It doesn’t change any fact that I’m still going to be involved either way! I’m still going to head this case because it’s tied with Winston. What difference does it make if I am the victim of this fucking man?!”

              “A lot!” Y/N screams. Jungkook stops. Y/N sighs, “It does a lot of difference, Jungkook. We’re already risking a lot in this until it turns out you’re a focal point in this case! You’re a fucking victim of this culprit! A conflict of interest is highly possible. You will be unable disassociate yourself from this and objectively investigate this case—” 

              “I don’t need you telling me what I should do or not, Y/N.” Jungkook steps forward to the girl. “I know what I’m doing. And I know it when I say I can investigate this following all the legal protocols.”

              Y/N tilts her head. “How can you say that when you’ve just been face-to-face with your past self?” 

              Before Jungkook can say anything, Y/N closes her eyes and clicks her finger. In just one second, everything around Jungkook falls beneath his feet—the trees, Somerset Road, his bloodied self. It rips themselves off from his senses until all he could see again is the dilapidated atelier, the barren ceilings, and, Y/N.

              Jungkook hunches over, coughing as air fills his lungs again. “H-how could you do that?”

              Y/N blows off the candle. “My gift.” She glances at the man. “The accident is taking a serious toll on you. I have to take us out of the time jump.”

                Jungkook sits back and glowers at her. “N-no, what I’m asking about is—how could you snatch my clicker and make a jump without any remorse? You do know that’s illegal!”

              “I know. ‘FJO’s traveling agents and officials are the only ones allowed by the law to engage in time jumping activities’ yaddah yaddah bullshit.”  Y/N leans on the table, face hovering the Captain’s. “But involving a then-law practitioner, much more an outsider like me, into your case is also illegal. I have my gift, yes. But I can only see the future and I won’t be able to see it accurately if I don’t have some sense of the past. Plus, I have no other pragmatic choice to start this case on the right foot. I already saw the future of our negotiation before you sat down on that stool. There’s nothing else I could say other than it didn’t end favorably for any of us.” Y/N turns back to the table she’s clearing, “Not that it’s any different now. Especially when I just learned the case you’ve showed me is more personal than you presented it to be.”

              Jungkook purses his lips. He stands up, gathers his things, and wordlessly makes his way out of the atelier. He didn’t bid the girl any farewell.

              “Looks like you haven’t been sleeping.”

              Jungkook looks up at his friend before looking down at his crossed arms, turning his attention back to his mug of coffee.

              Namjoon takes a seat cross Jungkook. “Did something happen?” He twirls the tea bag around his own mug, “Care to tell why you’ve been sporting those dark eye bags since two days ago?”

              “It’s nothing.”

              “It’s not nothing when the doctor precisely told you to have a healthy lifestyle to help your wound heal faster.”

              Jungkook looks at Namjoon.

              Namjoon points to his bandaged arm, “It indeed doesn’t look it’s healing fast like it’s supposed to.”

              Jungkook sighs. “Fine, you caught me.” He purses his lips then looks at his friend, “I’ve been wondering. You know our clickers are designed to identify the agent it was assigned to before it could work. But, is it…possible for clickers to work on someone that doesn’t belong to FJO as long as someone from FJO is present?”

              Namjoon keeps his gaze on him. A look of surprise seems to wash over his face. But it soon gets replaced by a look of recognition. Namjoon places the tea bag onto the saucer on his left. “I see you already met Y/N.”

              “Y-you knew that about her?”

              “I do,” Namjoon mutters over his cup of tea. “I learned it when the Bureau looked into the Linton Park serial murders. Seokjin’s team, including me, followed the memory map she made for us—a trail of memories that specifically belongs to anything related to the murders. But then, we hit a dead-end for the supposed next victim. Can’t identify her. We only had images of flashing movement—blood splattering in a barn, people running on a green field. There are just cops and a woman.” 

              Namjoon places down his cup, “And so, Y/N told me she needed me to help her make a time jump in the past. I pressed on the clicker and,” Namjoon shrugs, “Y/N successfully made the jump. And also successfully return with the info of the victim—a girl working on a farm. Y/N tied it to the flashing images of the field and deduced the running was not about us chasing a murderer’s accomplice. But us running after a victim before Linton could. It was hard to tell at first why the victim is running away from us. Until we learned through Y/N she was an illegal immigrant.” 

              Namjoon pulls his lips into a tight smile. “I think it’s an additional gift. But at the same time, it’s also a setback. A rightful one at that. Y/N’s inability to time jump in the past unless with a clicker a meter radius within her balances the power of her future-seeing gift. She still needs to rely on the system even if her gift for the future is, hypothetically, unbound from any constraints.” Namjoon takes a sip of his tea. “How ‘bout you? How did you learn this…extra ability of hers?”

              “She snatched my clicker from me,” Jungkook leans back in his seat. “She said she needed a ‘tangible memory’ to start on her memory map. She ended up thrusting us back into the time of my car accident.”

              Namjoon freezes. “Excuse me? Did you say ‘us’?”

              Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Yeah. We did the jump together, that’s why I’m asking you about this thing with the clickers.” 

              “Jungkook, she never did that before.”

              Jungkook’s brows shoot up. “What?”

              Namjoon scratches his nape, face scrunched up. “When she asked me to let her jump through my clicker, she didn’t take me along with the jump. It’s only her. Like it should always be as one clicker is only for one user. It’s always been like this in all the situations she asked me for a time jump in the past.” Namjoon looks at him, “I don’t know why you got in the same loop as her.”

              The night was quiet but devoid of peace. Like an ugly pause in a running film that’s just about to unwind the questions they laid at the start. Even after intaking his blue pills, Jungkook finds it difficult to close his eyes shut.

              “Big brother!”

              Jungkook turns around. The small boy stands on his tiptoes, small arms reaching for him. Jungkook smiles, “You want to climb on my back again, Daehyun?”

              “Yes!” Daehyun giggles.

              “Alright then,” Jungkook crouches in front of him and Daehyun’s squeals grow louder as he loops his stubby arms around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook stands up, securing the boy’s short legs around his torso. “Ready for some wind, big boy?” He asks. Daehyun nods frantically and soon, Jungkook is zooming on the green field, turning the heads of the children and volunteers in the park. But all Jungkook could hear was Daehyun’s laughter filling the nice summer afternoon. It brings a huge smile on Jungkook’s face. 

              Then—flashing blue and red lights. Cold pavement. A lone school bus standing in the middle. Its yellowness highlighted by the police’s yellow tape surrounding the area. Reporters dot every possible space on the crossroad. “Shooter on the loose.” “Poor child.” “Blood splattered on the seats.” But all Jungkook could hear is the white noise of the chattering. And the call of “Big brother!” he’ll never hear anymore. 

              Jungkook jolts awake. He sighs, closing his eyes. “It’s all in the past,” he mutters repeatedly under his breath. But no matter how many times he repeats it, it doesn’t shake off the horror he’s reeling in. He’s had this dream again and again for eight years straight. He should be already accustomed to it. 

              Jungkook sits up straight. He turns back to his computer and sees a couple of pictures open on the desktop. It was the screenshots of the CCTVs Yoongi gave them. He looks at the top of his desk. His notes empty of anything new other than Leigh Anderson’s name webbed next to an un-filled space for sponsors. Jungkook covers his face with his palms and yawns. Just then a series of text messages come in.

              Unknown: This is Y/N. I know we left on bad terms three days ago. I’m the one to blame for that for overreacting. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done a case for FJO. I’m still kinda hung up separating personal services from investigative ones. (2:13 P.M.)

              Unknown: Nevertheless, I hope you’re free this day. Meet me at Somerset Road. 3 P.M. I don’t want you to waste the money you gave me yesterday (2:13 P.M.)  

              Somerset Road is a thirty-minute drive from the FJO Main Headquarters. However, it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook parks his car on the side road. It seemed like hours have gone by when the sun is about to set in the alcove of trees in the distance. It’s just three in the afternoon. Jungkook steps outside and shuts the door. From his position, he could make out a girl in ripped black denim pants and black tank layered with a pink see-through mesh shirt. From the striking red of the spider lilies on the top of her spine, Jungkook could tell it was Y/N. He almost didn’t recognize her. He wouldn’t know she has an undercut had her high ponytail didn’t highlight it.

              The girl turns around and looks at him. “You’re late.”

              “I have to bribe the Maintenance Office first to give me this afternoon’s CCTVs when we’re done.” Jungkook strides toward her, “How did you get my number?”

              “Namjoon.”

              Jungkook cocks a brow.

              Y/N shrugs, “he wrote it in the letter you gave me. Should you, quote-unquote, be ‘difficult to deal with.’”

              Jungkook keeps his lips in a straight line.

              Y/N rocks on her toes, hands in her pocket. “Let’s get straight to it then. Take your clicker out and push it.”

              “What are you intending to do—”

              “A time jump.”

              “Of course, I know that. What other purpose do we use our time jumps for?” Jungkook spits. “What I want to know is what we’re supposed to be doing first before I follow whatever you want me to do because I cannot just blindly trust you with this—”

              Y/N turns her head to him, one brow cocked up, “Didn’t I tell you before I don’t fancy How-What-Why-Whatever questions to what I do or else my gift won’t work?”

              “Yes, but—”

              “Look, will you just push it or do you want me to snatch it from you again?” Y/N takes a step closer to him, leveling his eyes with hers. “I already did a read for today. I know its new hiding place.”

              Jungkook remains unmoving in his stance.

              Y/N crosses her arms. “If it would assure you, this session won’t end taxingly fruitless like the last time. I’m positive we’ll get something by the end of today.”

              “How did you know?”

              “I told you, I did a read for today. I saw you with an astounded face and me with a happy and proud smile. Obviously, we must have ended up finding something.”

              Jungkook is still unconvinced.

              Y/N sighs, “If you don’t want to do anything of what I can offer you, you know you can just terminate our connection anytime you want. Just so you know you can’t refund the 10,000 zials you gave me for the downpayment.”

              Jungkook keeps his gaze on her. A couple of seconds pass before he sighs and shakes his head as he takes out his issued clicker tucked in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

              Y/N smirks. “See? You know you’re gonna need me in the end and you still try to put up an unnecessary fight.”

              Jungkook grunts. He turns the clicker’s indicator to “1-2 weeks” timeframe and pushes the button.

              It was just like their previous time jump—like any other Precrime time jump. It felt like nothing yet also everything at the same time. An amalgamation of sensations and perceptions flashing in front of him in the blink of an eye as he is transported back to the night of his accident. Jungkook looks down at his feet. He’s back to where he last stood at—the left side of the road next to the corner where his car will come from. Jungkook turns to his left and he almost jumps in shock. Unlike their last jump, Y/N is no longer on the opposite side of the road, but beside him, shoulders almost bumping his. Jungkook takes a staggering step away from her. 

              Even if Namjoon laid everything he knows about Y/N’s skills yesterday, Jungkook still finds it hard to accept that a clairvoyant is able to look into the past with such effortless access. Aren’t they only supposed to see the future?

              “What are you looking at?”

              Jungkook tears his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”

              “Thought so, too,” Y/N quips. “We’re here to work after all. Not ogle at each other.” 

              Jungkook tongues his cheek. He’s not left to his frustration for long as after a second, the burning of tires on the asphalt is heard on their side of the road. A silver-gray Ford appears and it zooms past them in a flash. A black Jaguar subsequently shows up on the other side, its form nearing them each millisecond that passes. It’s only time ‘til the two crashes and sends Jungkook’s car rolling three times on the road.

              But, it didn’t happen. The howls of the wind stop. The screeching of the tires halts in awkward silence. And the cars are frozen still. The Jaguar’s bumper and Ford’s right door are separated by a mere inch. It’s the second before the accident happens. Paused in a picture-like frame as if someone hit the pause icon on a video.

              Jungkook whips his head to his side. Y/N has her palm closed in a post-click of her thumb and middle fingers. Jungkook feels his throat clog up, “H-how did you do that?”

              Y/N rolls her eyes. “Told you before, it’s because of my gift. And it’s also just seconds ago I told you I don’t like questions about how my gift works.” Y/N steps away from him and onto the road. “Follow me.” 

              Jungkook silently follows behind. It’s only a matter of seconds that they reach the side of the door of the silver-gray Ford. Jungkook lets his fingers touch on the coated metal. It felt cold on his flesh. Solid. Real. Jungkook can’t help but be astonished. This is no regular time jump. Totally unlike the first one he did with the woman. For this time, Jungkook doesn’t feel he’s living the film of the scene, just like any of the standard Precrime time jumping. This time, Jungkook feels he’s in the scene. Not in a film, not like the virtual reality experienced by Forecrime agents. But in real-time.

              “Take your hands off your car.”

              Jungkook tears his hands away from his car. He looks at the girl. Y/N gives him a pointed look, “I know this time jump doesn’t feel like the standard time jumps of Precrime so you may be astounded with,” she motions around them, “all of this. But I prefer you not to get too overwhelmed. We’re here for work.”

              Jungkook nods, reluctant. Y/N walks further into the side of the road, now a foot away from the spot where the cars should crash. Jungkook quickly follows behind. When he’s by an arms-length away from her, he faces back to the scene in front of him. And then, Y/N clicks her hand.

              The trees sway again. The winds continue their violent gush on the road. And the cars collide. The film is playing again.

              But then, Y/N clicks her fingers. The scene stops, frozen yet again. The bumper of the Jaguar has dug into the Ford’s door, crushing the metal with its momentum. The side mirror is broken, glass shards shattering in mid-air.

              “Come here,” Y/N beckons. Jungkook walks close behind as Y/N stops by the point of intersection of the two cars.  From their position, Jungkook could see the past him hunched over on the wheel, seat belt digging into his torso. The window by his side is broken, a splotch of blood marring the clear glass. And on his right, Jungkook could see the driver of the black Jaguar. Non-existent.

              Y/N looks at him, “So we know the man you’re after is doing an illegal time jump similar to the pattern of Precrime’s traveling agents. But what you don’t know is: he’s a professional.”

              “W-what?” 

              “Look,” Y/N flicks her wrist and makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hand. The sound goes void again and the cars back away from each other in slow motion. Jungkook’s brows shoot up.  The scene is rewinding. Y/N is turning back the time before the Jaguar collided into the Ford. And then, Y/N moves her arm horizontally to her left and clicks her fingers. The Jaguar moves forward again, but slowly this time. Jungkook could see the silhouette of the driver with arms taut on the wheel disappearing into a cloud of smoke until it turns no more but a nonexistent person on the seat as it hits the door of the Ford. 

              Y/N clicks her fingers and the scene pauses. “As you saw, it only took the driver,” she glances at her watch, “ten seconds before completely disappearing into his time jump. From how fast he disappeared, we could say it only took him twenty seconds in total to make the entire jump. I can only deduce this as the memories we have are short of the time we could see him in his solid form. The same way goes for the CCTVs you gathered. It only captured the last ten seconds of the whole accident. The Jaguar nonexistent in the frame from 20:23:39 and anything beyond before that time mark. The CCTVs only showed the Jaguar from 20:23:40 to exactly 20:24. The last 10 seconds, devoid of any driver.” 

              The girl continues, “Now, to be able to completely vanish in just 20 seconds, you must be a professional in time jumping in the past. Which can only be done if you’ve undergone training under Precrime. However, this could also be just any other outsider that’s gotten lucky doing an illegal time jump. Considering Somerset Road has a strong electromagnetic field that can help anyone do their time jumps faster and more successfully—including the risky ones that involve a huge time frame of unbounded jumps into the past. But to know that about Somerset Road, much less know how to effectively take advantage of its field during a time jump—you should be a long-time agent of Precrime.” 

              Y/N faces Jungkook, “The man you’re after is either a professional Precrime traveling agent or an outsider who’s fed with all the necessary information only a Precrime agent could know. It’s an inside job.”

              Jungkook shakes his head, “No. It can’t be. Every time-jumping device has a permanent tracker that can never be taken out even by the best engineer. Allen McGregor designed it to be like that to ensure these devices will not be used for personal interest. Every agent is tracked of their traveling activities and logged straight into the Investigation Bureau’s files. They’re inputted in glass files similar to the crime records—void for editing, copying, and deleting. And should it be an outsider utilizing Precrime’s technology, a travel will still be tracked back to the agent whose device was used.” Jungkook looks at Y/N. “There have been no reports of anyone traveling on Somerset Road the night of my accident.”

              Y/N shrugs, “I’m just saying what I saw. Especially this.” Y/N makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hands and the scene rewinds again.  The Jaguar is frozen back into five seconds before it hits the silver-gray Ford. Y/N walks toward the car, Jungkook close behind. The girl motions to the passenger seat and Jungkook stills. There on the leather seat is a red file case. Unprecedented murder. Precrime Murder Sector. But this is not what rendered Jungkook immobile in shock. Rather, it’s the label on the file case. 

              “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

              “See?” Y/N smirks, “Told you we’ll find something today.”

              A click of the hand and soon, the dark night sky of Somerset Road bleeds into the burning colors of the sunset. There’s no longer the silver-gray Ford and the black Jaguar. It’s just Jungkook and Y/N alone in the road, back to where they were before.

              Jungkook hunches over, coughing as he beats his chest. When he finally stabilizes his breathing back to normal, he turns to the girl. “You…Ho-how can you be so sure with all of these vi-visions?”

              Y/N looks at Jungkook, an indecipherable look on her face. “This is what you paid for 10,000 zials. I’m handing you what your eyes missed on just the way they are.”

              Jungkook holds in his breath as he knocks on the glass door.

              “Come in.”

              Jungkook pushes the door open and salutes. “Chief Nathan Spencer.”

              “Captain Jeon,” the Chief of Precrime glances up at him before returning back to the stack of papers he’s signing. He motions to the chair in front of his desk, “Make yourself comfortable.”

              Jungkook pulls back the black chair and sits.

              “So, what brings you here?”

              “This week’s report, sir—the joint investigation with DOJ on the unidentified black Jaguar.” Jungkook places a brown folder on the Chief’s desk.

              The chief looks at the captain. “Still no progress in the identification?” 

              Jungkook shakes his head, face grim.

              “That can’t be helped,” Nathan sympathetically mutters. “It’s not the first time FJO has handled a difficult case.”

              “But it is the first time FJO can’t identify a suspect with its current system.”

              “You’re right,” Nathan nods. He flips open the brown folder and skims the report. “How’s the auditor doing?”

              Jungkook clenches his jaw. “Fine. Still…meddling with our processes.”

              Nathan lets out a light scoff. “As expected of someone who’s running for a promotion. Always been a know-it-all jerk, this Min Yoongi.”

              Jungkook makes a tight-lipped smile.

              Nathan chuckles. “Forgive me. I’ve always had a prejudice against DOJ’s auditors. Most, if not all of them, always give us a hard time more than what’s necessary. Anyway, what else do you have for me, Jungkook?”

              The captain sits up straight. “I would like to ask a favor, sir.”

              Nathan clasps his hand on his desk. He leans forward. “What is it?”

              “It’s for the investigation. DOJ has access to all of our files—Precrime, Forecrime, and even the Investigation Bureau. So I figured if I can also do the same since our sector seems to be their main target. If I have the same leverage on our own information as them, I can have control over this investigation and drive them away before they can even assume power over us.” Jungkook leans on the table, “We could see the problems first before they become visible to DOJ.”

              Nathan raises his brow. “So what do you mean?”

              “I would like to have unrestricted access in our archives. Everything that contains anything pertaining to FJO.” Jungkook leans forward, “Including the Memory Temple.” 

              The chief sighs, “That’s a big favor, Jungkook.”

              “I know. That’s why Chief General Andrews told me to go to you.”

              Nathan’s brows shoot up, “The Chief General?”

              “Yes, Chief General Matthew Andrews. He said you’re good friends with Chief of the Bureau, Natasha Ryde. Chief Andrews wants to ask if you could do a favor of a friend for a friend.” Jungkook slides a white envelope underneath the folder, “Of course, not without considerable credit.”

              Nathan purses his lips. A beat. He shakes his head, sighing. “Okay…I’ll try to put in a word for you. I can give you the entire archives tomorrow. But the Memory Temple could take a while. Two days or three.”

              “That’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiles. He stands up and heads to the end of the room. Before he could disappear behind the door, he salutes one more time, “Thank you for the kind accommodation, Chief.” 

              Jungkook heads to the main elevator and hits the second floor below the Superiors’ Hall. The metal doors ding open and soon, Jungkook’s looking at a wide expanse of glass wall reflecting hundreds of shelves on the glass panes.

              Jungkook heads to the entranceway and salutes at the guard, “Sally.” The guard returns the salute, smiling. Jungkook tilts his head, “Did the Bureau come by to retrieve Precrime files?”

              “Not yet, sir. The Bureau’s still busy in their matters with DOJ. They halted the synching of files for now.”

              “That’s good,” Jungkook quips and pushes the glass doors open.

              Tall metal bookshelves snake like an accordion around the floor. The spaces between them is occasionally filled up by wooden desks that mandatorily come along with a wooden bookstand and black study lamp. It looks like a hedge maze made of old books, monochrome papers, and multi-colored files.

              Jungkook heads to the leftmost aisle—Precrime’s archives. He weaves his way through the bookshelves until he stops in front of a separated room in the middle of the labyrinth. It’s made completely out of glass, just like FJO’s offices. The only difference is that this room contains five sets of desks and chairs, bookshelves, and the Archive Manager’s huge white station as the centerpiece.

              And before Jungkook could finish leveling his eyes to the scanner set by the door, he could already feel the growing stare of Emily Young.

              “Captain Jeon.”

              “Ms. Young,” Jungkook nods to the manager.

              Emily smiles, “To what do I owe your visit today?”

              “Jonathan Winston’s Assassination case file.” 

              “As usual,” The thirty-seven-year-old manager sing-songs as she stands up and disappears into the back room. It doesn’t take long for her to retrieve what the Precrime captain is looking for.

              A long expandable, red file with the label in Arial 12 print: “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

              Just like in Y/N’s time jump. Identically the same. Jungkook looks at the manager, “Do you have a log of anyone who looks into this file?”

              Emily chuckles, “I don’t think that will bring anything new to the table, captain.” She scans the numeric code of the file and turns the monitor of her computer towards him. “There’s no one who’s been looking at this file but you.”

              Jungkook peers in. Indeed, the log on Winston’s file contains nothing but his name. From August 15, 2047, the date of Winston’s assassination, to the most recent date, August 3, 2059. The day after Leigh Anderson’s suicide. The day after the Winston case was closed cold. There’s no other name in the log for 12 years other than his name.

              Jungkook looks back at Emily, “Are you sure this is the complete log on this file? No one borrowed the file earlier than July 12th?”

              “That’s the whole log, captain. There’s no record on August 1st because we’re closed to do an inventory check.” Emily leans back in her chair. “Everyone knows you’re busy on a case in Down Hill for the entirety of June. The Allison future murder is all over the news. Of course, with a Metropolis resident as a future victim. And with you busy on another case, this Winston’s file is devoid of any viewers.” Emily releases a chuckle. “Every cop has an obsession with a particular case. Everyone here knows Winston’s case is yours. I think I will remember if someone other than you looked into this file because I swear that day will be a miracle.”

              Jungkook purses his lips, face undecipherable. Right then, his phone rings loud. He turns to his back and picks it up. “Hello?”

              “Captain.” It’s Jimin.

              “What is it?”

              “You have to come to the sector now. There’s a file from Precrime. It’s…a blank.”

              “Okay, I’ll be there soon,” Jungkook ends the call. He faces Emily. “Thank you for today, Emily.” The archives manager nods with a playful salute at him. Jungkook quickly returns the salute and pushes the door open. Soon, he’s tearing past the labyrinth of shelves.

              It doesn’t take Jungkook longer than ten minutes to reach the left-wing of the 2nd floor. The cold sweat from the discovery in the archives is still clinging on his nape. 

              As soon as he steps into Murder Sector, everyone’s eyes are set on him. Including Yoongi. Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue as he slides in the gloves over his hands. “Jimin, give me the run-over.”

              “Captain, Jeon. It’s a grayish-white file. Precrime, Property and Crime Scene Sector. Traveling agent in charge is Eric Williams. Crime record validated by traveling agents Hannah Peters and Ivan Park. Case number 3571, hit-and-run, destruction of property.  Suspect is unknown. Victim’s name is…Jeon Jungkook.”

              Jungkook whips his head towards the secretary, eyes wide.

              “It’s your case, sir.” Jimin confirms, “Eric accidentally time jumped into the night of your hit-and-run while he’s traveling for a T-Bone accident in Middle Town. Property and Crime Scene figured this blank is a crucial update on your case.” He walks to the end of the glass board and slides the disk into the middle slot.

              Jungkook turns to his front. The glass board lights up and a video starts playing. It’s Somerset Road and it’s almost pitch black in the grainy film. Eric stands frozen on the pavement for a second. But the seeming serenity of the scene soon dissipates as he looks down at his gear and frantically fumbles for his time jumper. Suddenly, hot blinding light fills his peripherals. Eric’s head shoots up. A car is speeding toward him. The headlights grow larger and finally, the car becomes visible. It’s the silver-gray Ford. Eric turns around and right then, a black Jaguar zooms past him, merely missing him by a hairsbreadth. But the Jaguar doesn’t stop and further increases its speed. It bulldozers right into the side of the Ford, sending it flying across the barren road. Eric picks up his feet and dashes to the cars. But his efforts are futile. The black Jaguar has already disappeared before he could even take his 12th step. And then, the record stops.

              Before Jimin could even state the protocol run-through, Jungkook frantically swipes through the blank record. He slides across the frames in reverse, back and backward until he reaches the first second of the blank.

              “Sir, I’m afraid we have to do the protocol first—"

              Jungkook’s hand stills on the board. The frame freezes. It’s a close-up of the black Jaguar as it barely grazes Eric’s body. Jungkook zooms in. There inside the passenger seat of the car is a long, red expandable file. “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

              Jungkook feels his blood run cold. It’s the same file he just had his hands on less than 15 minutes ago. It’s the same file he saw in his and Y/N’s jump. Y/N’s vision is true.  

              Jungkook feels his pocket vibrate and he quickly whips out his phone. However, he wasn’t able to dwell on it longer as a hard force pushes his shoulder backward, forcing Jungkook to tear his eyes off the screen.

              Yoongi glares at him, “Why are you indifferent about this? You know something about this, didn’t you? Captain Jeon!” 

              But even with his name called out loud, Jungkook couldn’t hear anything. All that registers in his mind is one single message.

              Y/N L/N:  Have you ever heard of a Sooah Kim before? (11:14 A.M.)

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N | Hi hons! Thank you for reading the 2nd chapter! I hope I got you guys more curious about the story hehe. Anyway, I have some announcement: I have finals for a major coming up this week so I’ll spend the next whole week studying. So, I’ll try if I can update the next chap the week after next week, on Sunday, too. But nothing is certain yet as I still have some uni stuff to do. Don’t worry, I only have 3 projects left to do to finally finish this sem. So as soon as I’m done with them, expect more frequent updates from me! 

If you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all in my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probable your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading and giving a chance to My Time! :”)

Notes: As you know, this is a mystery fic. So, it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

All Rights Reserved 2020 © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding

Howard, of course, is all for this plan.

-

Howard Stark’s hours were unpredictable at best.  Sometimes he was awake for days on end working on a pet project, running on coffee, cigarettes, and whiskey until he simply ran out of steam and collapsed.  Sometimes he’d been overseas for too long and had not yet reset his internal clock, so that he was up all night and slept all day.  Sometimes he napped in strange places like a lazy cat.  Peggy had no idea what to expect when she rang his bell in the morning.

The first thing she heard was the barking, followed by a yelp from Mr. Jarvis and a cry of, “Anna!  Would you please contain this beast?”  Some scuffling and more barking followed, and then the door opened.  Whatever had just happened, it didn’t stop Mr. Jarvis from looking as tidy and composed as ever when he opened the door.

“Agent Carter, good morning,” he said cheerfully.  “What can we do for you today?”

Behind him, Anna Jarvis was kneeling on the floor in her dressing gown, cooing Hungarian endearments to the animal Peggy assumed was called a ‘Bernese mountain dog’ not because it came from the Swiss Alps but because it was simply a mountain of dog.  Its tongue was lolling out and its eyes closed in bliss.

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis,” said Peggy.  “I was wondering if Howard were out of bed yet.”

“He’s in the backyard, nursing a hangover by the swimming pool,” said Mr. Jarvis.  “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

Peggy stepped inside and nodded to Anna and the dog.  “Good morning, Anna.  Zoltan.”

“Lovely to see you, Peggy,” Anna said, fondling the dog’s red and black ears.  “Sorry I’m not dressed.  I just have to get this fellow his breakfast.”

“It’s quite all right,” Peggy assured her.  “I don’t know how long I’m likely to be here, anyway.”

Behind the house, Howard was sprawled across a chaise under the canopy, wearing his brocade bathrobe, a pair of sunglasses, and probably nothing else.  Jarvis picked up a discarded newspaper and laid it discreetly over his employer’s lap before touching his shoulder to wake him.  “Mr. Stark?”

“Huh?” Howard twitched.

“Agent Carter is here.”

“Oh.”  Howard’s head tilted back again.  “I guess there’s no chance of telling her to come back later?”

“I don’t do later, Howard,” said Peggy.  Jarvis pulled up a chair for her, and she sat down across from Howard.  “I need a favour… in fact, Daniel and I both need a favour.”

“Is this the part where you remind me again that you kept my ass out of jail?” he asked.

“It is.”

“All right.”  Howard made an effort to sit up and look slightly more presentable – at least as much as a man could when there was only yesterday’s Examiner to preserve his modesty.  “What’s going on?”

Peggy had spent a good deal of time in her bath the previous evening thinking over exactly how she was going to present this idea.  “I’m sure you remember the time you had me steal back a vial of Steve Roger’s blood for you under the pretense that it was a superweapon.”

“Technically, it could be, in the wrong hands,” said Howard.  “But I definitely remember where you hit me.  Did you find it?” he asked, peering over his sunglasses with bloodshot eyes.

Howard did not know that Peggy had thrown the vial in the East River, and she was not about to tell him.  “No.  But before I tell you what I did find, I need you to assure me of your honourable intentions.  If some piece of Captain Rogers or his property were to turn up, what would you do about it?”

“Depends on what it is,” said Howard, “but if it were his body I’d throw him the hero’s funeral he deserves, and if it’s the shield I’d build him a monument out of it.”

Peggy leaned closer.  “You swear?” she asked.

“Cross my heart,” he said.  “What have you found?”

“A set of coordinates.  Seventy-four, forty-seven, thirty-five.  Ninety-five, twenty-five, three.”

She could almost see the gears in Howard’s head turning as he placed them.  “That’s… that’s further north than we ever looked… way up in the sea ice.”  He started to get up, then grabbed at his newspaper.  Peggy politely turned her head while he fixed his robe.  “I’ve got a map here somewhere…”

“I know,” she said, getting up to follow him inside.  “I already looked.”

In the library, the atlas Peggy had used was still sitting out on a table.  Howard quickly found the same page, and the same point.  “Cornwallis Island.”

“Daniel and I aren’t sure the tip is trustworthy,” Peggy explained, “so we need this to be discreet, no taxpayer money.  I’m on medical leave for the occasion.”

“Of course.  Not a word,” said Howard.  “Just you and me and a few of the locals to carry stuff.  There might not be anything visible on the surface anymore.”

“No?” Peggy asked.  “Our source described the crash in some detail, as if they were there when it happened, and seemed to think there would still be parts of the plane caught on the rocks of the island.”

“Yeah, but sea ice isn’t static,” Howard said.  “It moves around, and snow builds up and doesn’t melt.  If the wreck’s in the ice it’ll be torn apart, very slowly, and will eventually melt out the bottom and fall onto the sea floor.  The ice up there isn’t transparent, either, it’s yards thick and full of cracks and bubbles.  We need a way to see what’s under it.”

“And you happen to have just the thing?” Peggy guessed.

Howard nodded eagerly.  “I’ve been working on it on and off for a while now… an ice-penetrating sonar.  The big problem was keeping the sound of the plane itself from interfering, but the last month or so I’ve actually had your buddy Dr. Wilkes up there troubleshooting on it.  He’s a great guy for acoustics.  His work on the vibration frequencies of the Zero Matter…”

“Is it ready for testing?”  After knowing him for nearly ten years, Peggy was an expert at gently encouraging Howard to stay on topic.

“Yes!  That’s why we moved it to my hangar in upstate New York,” Howard said.  “Closer to the ice, less shipping hassle than getting it to Alaska.  It’s installed on one of my planes there.”

“So we can simply fly it up to Canada and take a look,” said Peggy.  That would cut down on their search time enormously, if they didn’t have to trek across the ice for days on end.  “Wonderful.  But as I said, we can’t have any fanfare.  Absolute secrecy is best.”

Howard pouted.  “You don’t think I can keep a secret, Peg?” he asked.

“You do tend to get over-excited,” she said.  “And we know, by the way, that there are more of those Russian girls in the country, so you’re not even allowed to hint at it over drinks.  How soon can you be ready to go?”

“I can be ready to go right now,” Howard replied.  “It depends on if Jason’s got the thing ready in New York.  I’ll give him a call right away.”  He checked his watch.  “Yeah, he’ll be up by now.”

“I should hope so,” Peggy said.  “Dr. Wilkes tends to be far more regular in his hours than you.  But don’t tell him over the phone where we’re going,” she added.  “Treat it as just another test flight.  You never know who might be listening in.”

“You can count on me, Peg.  After all… you did keep my ass out of jail.”  Howard grinned at her.

“Thank you, Howard.”  She smiled back.  “I’ll head home and pack a bag.”  That wouldn’t take long.  Peggy knew how to travel light.

As she was heading back to the front door, she met Mr. Jarvis coming the other way.  “Agent Carter?” he said.  “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I have a lot to do today,” she said.  “I can’t stay for tea.”

“I wasn’t about to ask you to, but I’ve just taken a phone call from Chief Sousa,” Mr. Jarvis said.  “He was unable to say why, but he would like you to stop by the SSR offices as soon as possible.”

He probably wanted to know how her conversation with Howard had gone, Peggy thought, though it was strange that he’d called rather than waiting for her to contact him.  “I’ll do so on my way home.  Thank you, Mr. Jarvis.  Give my best to Anna, would you?”

“I shall.  Will we see you again soon?”

“I certainly hope so,” Peggy said.

She probably could have done more to warn Howard how unlikely they were to find anything up there, Peggy thought as she drove back to the office, but for the moment it was probably best to let him ride the initial wave of enthusiasm.  The whole story could wait for their flight back to New York and the subsequent journey to the Northwest Territories.  Howard and Jason’s sonar, though… that was exactly what they needed!  If this were indeed some sort of trap, there was no way the Soviets would be expecting them to fly over at a height rather than hiking out from the island.  If there were something there, they’d be able to get at least an idea of it without so much as setting foot on the ice.  Then if it appeared dangerous, they could contact Daniel and ask for further suggestions.

“Afternoon, Rose,” said Peggy cheerfully as she entered the reception area.  Rose was sitting at her desk, tiredly watching a trio of midgets in matching sequined costumes perform an acrobatic routine.

Rose did not smile back.  “Oh, you got Mr. Auerbach’s message?” she said.

“I did,” Peggy nodded.  “He’s upstairs?”

“Yes.  So is Mr. Masters.”

Peggy’s spirits, which had been high on her drive over, sank straight through the floor.  It wasn’t that there was no reason for him to be here – Peggy could think of half a dozen things he might have decided to stick his unwelcome fingers into – it was that whatever he wanted was always at odds with whatever Peggy was trying to accomplish.  Daniel had rung her at Howard’s because he was trying to warn her.

She took a deep breath, stood up straight, and nodded.  “I’ll head right up.”

Peggy stepped into Daniel’s office with her head held high and determination in her step.  Daniel himself was not there.  Vernon Masters, however, was.  He was sitting in Daniel’s chair, where Peggy had sat for her interview with Lake as Agent Russel, waiting for her.

“Carter,” he said.

“Mr. Masters,” Peggy replied.

“Care to explain how another Soviet spy got into the country undetected and killed one of our most important political prisoners while you were a dozen feet away?”

He certainly did get straight to the point, didn’t he?  “It is my understanding that Miss Lake drilled through the glass of the cell window and shot Dr. Zola using a police revolver with a home-made suppressor,” she replied.

“While you stood right next door and did nothing.”

“Our best information at the time suggested that Miss Lake was here for Underwood and Fenhoff,” said Peggy.  “I was acting on that.  We had no reason to think Dr. Zola was in any danger.”

“You sure didn’t try to protect him,” said Masters.

“We did our best to keep the entire prison secure,” Peggy said.  “Perhaps you ought to question the people in charge of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, rather than me.”

Masters sat up.  “I’m going to be straight with you, Carter,” he said.  “We sent an FBI agent to investigate your potential involvement in Underwood’s escape – he was drugged and robbed by a colleague of hers, who then went on to kill Zola right under your nose.  You understand why this doesn’t look good for you.”

“I do,” said Peggy, keeping her body language as neutral as possible.  Since Masters’ last visit she’d been telling herself not to worry about him because he had nothing on her… but now events were conspiring against her.  The situation he described could easily make Peggy look like a traitor to somebody sufficiently paranoid… or at least incompetent.  He couldn’t possibly have any real evidence, though, because if he did he’d be having her arrested.  His ‘case’, if it could be called that, must be entirely circumstantial.

“I’m going to have a full investigation look into your conduct, Carter,” said Masters.  “If you haven’t done anything, you have nothing to fear, but you’re suspended from duty as of now.”

“As it happens, I’m already on medical leave,” she said.  “Chief Sousa insisted I take time off to recover from the chemical Miss Lake attacked me with.  Apparently Dr. Mroczek in New York worries there might be permanent damage to my lungs.”

“From what you’ve said about these Russian girls you should be grateful she didn’t shoot you,” said Masters.  He stood up from Daniel’s chair.  “I’ll be checking in.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Peggy, wondering what he would think when she left the country… and how he would fit it into his personal conspiracy theory when she came back.

[crimeronan]

no supernatural au concept i haven’t been able to stop thinking about since considering ronan and opal were once the same age

the lynch family has a reputation.  partly it’s because they’re fucking weird, but let’s be real -- every rural town has its share of characters.  weird farmers are par for the course.  if the lynch family just kept to themselves at the barns, no one would know they existed.  however niall lynch is a swaggering larger-than-life storybook hero who loves attention and scandal, so: the lynch family has a reputation

by and large, the household is made up of known entities.  niall, the irishman who never shuts the fuck up.  aurora, the quiet beautiful wife with the bizarrely gorgeous beadwork at craft fairs. declan, the eldest son who’s got one foot in DC and won’t ever look back when he gets there.  matthew, the youngest boy with the enthusiasm and adoration and intellectual prowess of a golden retriever puppy

however.  the lynch twins are largely folkloric

it’s not just that they never seem to appear in public.  it’s that there are a dozen decade-old stories told by knitting folks on their porches that cannot POSSIBLY all be true, including:

the lynch twins set fire to the post office

the lynch twins stole four pallets of soda from the back of a truck unloading at the henrietta general store and drank all the evidence

the lynch twins lured a man into the woods and stabbed him in the leg

the lynch twins helped the local vet’s office coordinate 30 TNR procedures because they’ve befriended a colony of feral cats

the lynch twins trained a rotating cast of corvids to shit on the mayor when he leaves his office every evening

the lynch twins were banned from three local churches after incidents involving a statue of mary, stained glass worth several thousand dollars, and the preacher’s microphone respectively

adam doesn’t give much of a shit about local gossip but has gleaned quite a bit of it when being deferential and polite to middle-aged women at the dollar store.  it takes him a month of attending aglionby to put together that ronan and declan are siblings (they look unbelievably alike, but their body language and speech are SO different) and another week after that to realize ronan’s one-half of the unidentified lynch family variables

“isn’t there another one of him?” adam blurts

declan looks up and blinks, nonplussed rather than smooth for once in his life.  “excuse me?”

adam’s eating lunch and has ended up at a table with declan not because of friendliness, but because declan’s taking a break from his roving cast of intransient social interactions to work on college apps and adam’s getting a head start on homework.  neither is here to make friends.  adam nods across the room at ronan, who appears to be constructing a fully landscaped mountain sculpture out of french fries

declan says “god, i wish” as ronan upends a bottle of ketchup over the fries and causes a volcanic eruption that obliterates everything in the lunch table’s path

that tells adam absolutely nothing but also he doesn’t really care.  later, when he and gansey are friends, and he’s no closer to understanding ronan but much more actively annoyed by him, he asks gansey the same thing

“oh, his sister!” gansey says, and beams.  this at least explains why she doesn’t go to aglionby.  “she’s great.  she’s taught me a lot about what plants want to kill you”

adam can’t decide what to make of this.  once upon a time he’d think that the affection of someone like gansey predisposed the mysterious lynch sister toward being like declan, but it turns out gansey reserves that ebullient expression for losers like him and ronan and noah alone, so.  more data necessary

it’s important to note that this isn’t like, occupying a huge part of adam’s mind.  it’s just idle querying because he likes knowing things.  to that end, he asks ronan once if he’d ever met ronan’s sister when adam attended the public junior high.  they’d be in the same grade, right??

ronan gets weird and evasive with some response about how she homeschools with his mom, and adam’s like okay, some religious cult thing with the women running the farm. whatever. not my issue

adam and ronan get slowly closer over time, etcetc, you know how it goes.  eventually adam's invited to the barns.  his first few visits are normal.  suspiciously normal.  aurora is loving and gentle in a way that makes adam skittish - probably more due to his own issues than any Actual malevolence, but who knows - and there is zero mention or sign of a girl living there

it doesn’t Really bother adam, but it kind of bothers him.  less because he’s dying to meet her and more because equations that don’t add up make him nervous.  his running list of theories include 1) she doesn’t exist 2) she’s dead 3) she’s at some elite boarding school for girls in connecticut 4) she’s an emancipated minor 5) she’s not an emancipated minor but has run away anyway 6) she’s a fugitive from justice 7) she’s in prison 8) she’s dead but, like, worse this time

adam carefully and subtly raises his concerns to ronan by asking, “so is your sister being tortured in your attic or what?”

ronan, reasonably, is like, “the fuck?”

adam’s like, “look, all i’m saying is that when a twin goes missing in a story and no one seems to care, something sinister’s afoot.  that’s all i’m saying here.”

ronan’s like, “say the word ‘afoot’ again.  you sound like gansey.  come on”

he takes adam out for a walk in the woods, which seems like a pretty murdery way to respond.  adam, uncomfortably aware of that rumor about luring people to the woods and stabbing them in the leg, is like okay i’m about to die here.  i’ve uncovered a lifetime movie plot and now i’m gonna be buried in unmarked barrel #457.  what a way to go

this is pretty much confirmed when he gets attacked

he hits the ground before he’s really registered anything beyond a surprise impact.  it drives the breath out of his lungs. he flips onto his back right away.  ronan’s got half a foot of height on him and stupidly long legs so a sprinting escape doesn’t seem viable.  he’s gonna have to rely on the old-fashioned power of fingernails and kicking

he has time to see a pair of blown-pupil eyes WAY too close to his face before the weight disappears from him.  the culprit is a girl, late teens, with hair that’s probably blonder when the matted dirt is washed out of it.  “for fuck’s fucking sake,” ronan is saying, hauling her to her feet and blessedly away from adam’s vulnerable internal organs, “why. WHY.”

“holy shit.”  adam sits up, clutching his chest.  he can feel every bone in his body.  “god. god. god”

the girl is almost as tall as ronan.  she’s dressed in some kind of baggy coverall-ish getup that might once have been an army parachute.  she is not wearing any shoes.  there’s some blood on her face from a recently-opened scab, and also a black speck on one cheek that adam thinks is a smashed fly

“you didn’t jump gansey!” ronan is saying, extremely exasperated.  “why!”

“i didn’t have my hammock yet when gansey first came,” she says.  she does not sound remotely sorry

adam looks up and discovers that there is in fact a hammock stretched between the trees.  it’s one of those heavy-duty camping numbers with thick canvas and a full insect net.  it’s also thirty feet in the air.  there are branches on the way down, but they are very precariously spaced.  adam does not want to know how she parkoured to leap onto his shoulders

“when you snap someone’s neck,” ronan says, “i’m not helping you hide the body”

“who says i haven’t already?”

“the fuck? and you didn’t ask me to help hide the body?”

she darts a few feet away and pulls herself into a tree.  adam watches with slight fascination as she shimmies out along a long branch until it dips under her weight.  as he gets to his feet, trying to piece together his wilted dignity, she rides her makeshift nature elevator down until she’s staring into his eyes again.  hugging the branch like a snake.  absolutely no consideration for how normal human beings behave. it’s almost marvelous

“sufficiently free of my attic, parrish?” ronan asks

“uh, yeah. yep”

“so this is opal,” ronan says

opal flips over so she’s hanging from the branch like a sloth.  then hooks her legs around it and reaches down until her palms are flat on the ground.  cartwheels out of the tree like a particularly feral acrobat.  adam jerks back to avoid being smacked by a faceful of twigs at the whipcrack slingshot of the branch bouncing back

opal pulls a pocketknife from one of the folds in the DIY parachute sewing machine tick protection onepiece from hell.  adam eyes her warily

“opal, this is parrish. or adam. whichever. don’t stab him”

“god,” adam says again

opal beams.  she opens the pocketknife, but all she does is start cleaning bits of plaque from between her teeth with the tip, which is somehow so much worse than stabbing.  adam looks at ronan and finds him pinching the bridge of his nose.  it occurs to adam that this is the only time he’s EVER seen ronan express any sense of embarrassment in any social situation.  ronan has no sense of propriety.  adam didn’t know he was capable of feeling embarrassed

he immediately likes opal just for that.

“yes,” opal says, unconcerned, answering a question no one’s actually asked.  “ronan is the normal one”

[alarawriting]

52 Project #39: Seista Nikita

Wow, my brain is a sieve lately. I just didn’t notice it was getting to be 5 pm until it was almost 6.

I wrote this story originally in senior year of high school, in a college creative writing course. Even if your political views don’t change over time, the culture around them does. The Culare was a mockery of ridiculous extremes of environmentalism and animal rights, a la PETA and suchlike. I wouldn’t write a story like this nowadays because the pendulum’s gone so far in the other direction, I wouldn’t see that worthy of mockery, even though I still disagree with such extremes as much as I ever did. I am very fond of the trickster heroine, though, so I’m publishing it anyway. It’s kind of a stupid story, but I still think it’s funny. There have been some revisions made, so if you note things that didn’t exist in 1987, that is why.

-------------------------

Once upon a time, in a distant province that never appeared on any map, probably because either a. it was too small to bother with or b. someone bribed the mapmaker, or possibly both, an evil beast called the Culare reigned. (It was pronounced like “Cool air”, but if anyone tried to spell it that way, the Culare would eat them.) Some said the Culare was an experimental mutation; others, an ecologist gone mad. The Culare was an intelligent lion-like being with teleportation powers who took the concept of “protecting the environment” to a degree so ludicrous, not even the most extreme environmentalist would support it. He refused to let the human beings in his province harm the native wildlife by picking it or killing it. That would have been reasonable, but he also wouldn’t let people pick anything they planted themselves, even on their own property. If the plant in question was native, he wouldn’t let them harvest it, and if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t even let people plant it, claiming it was an invasive species. And of course he wouldn’t allow anyone to raise animals for food. Not even unfertilized chicken eggs. (He also took a dim view of the cellophane wrapper industry.)

If people wanted to eat meat, they had to find roadkill, or something that had been killed by another predator. The problem was that the Culare thought that “protecting nature” meant preventing predators of any kind from killing other animals… which meant there were very few animals who’d died of anything other than starvation or disease as their populations exploded. If they wanted to eat vegetables or fruits, people had to find things that were lying around on the ground.  In the beginning of the Culare’s reign, there had been shipments from other countries of rice, and bacon, and potatoes, and tomatoes, and whatever else people wanted to eat. But the Culare wouldn’t tolerate ships that consumed fossil fuels coming in to the ports, and the people of the small nation couldn’t pay enough to make it worth sending sailing ships. Also, packaging. If the food came in anything other than packaging made from recycled matter, which would biodegrade, the Culare would eat the people who brought it.

The Culare himself was sustained on sunflower seeds and papaya juice… when he wasn’t consuming errant humans.  

(Some said the whole thing was a scam, giving the Culare an acceptably environmentally correct reason to eat people. None of them said it very loudly, though, or else they never said it more than once.)

One day, an old man who had once worked for a living making cellophane wrappers, and his 20-ish son Harold, were out, searching for rotten apples and fallen nuts to eat. It was hard enough to find such things, when the entire country was desperately trying to find the same things so they wouldn’t starve to death.  It was made even more difficult by the fact that it was springtime. You might think that the reason springtime was an issue was that nothing had had a chance to get ripe enough to fall, and you’d be correct enough.  But the bigger part of the problem was that Harold was in love, with a girl named Seista Nikita, and he seemed to think that he could live entirely off air, sunlight and his love. At least, one would suspect that from how much attention he was not paying to finding food.

The old man finally got ticked off at the way his son was paying next to no attention to the task at hand, and hobbled off.

“At last,” Harold thought. “That old geezer’s gone. Him and his stories about the glorious days of Saran Wrap! I’d much rather sit under a tree and think about Seista.” With that, he sat down under a tree and thought about Seista.

At the height of his romantic musings, he saw a bunch of flowers. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could pick them and give them to Seista,” he thought, ignoring the fact that Seista would probably prefer nearly anything to flowers. Quickly, he looked around. He saw no one. His hand reached out and he plucked the blossoms.

Suddenly there was a burst of acrid smoke, and a huge lion-like beast appeared in front of him, kind of like the Wicked Witch of the West. “The Culare!” Harold babbled, and tried to hide the flowers.

“SLEAZOID,” the Culare rumbled. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THOSE FLOWERS?”

“Well, it was – it was an accident, yeah. I – you see, I, I thought they were looking ill, that’s it, and I tried to lift them up to inspect them. Yeah, that’s it. And – and they accidentally came loose, yeah—”

“FOOLISH SLIMEBUCKET, DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE SUCH A RIDICULOUS STORY?”

“Oh, please don’t eat me!” begged Harold. “I’ll never do it again!”

“THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY. BUT IT ISN’T GOOD FOR ME TO EAT A HEAVY MEAL THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING. I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU AT SUNSET.”

With that, the Culare vanished.

Harold ran straight to Seista Nikita’s house and told her the news. “And so we must be forever separated, beloved,” he said, tears in his eyes. “For I am doomed! At sunset tonight, I am destined to lose my life at the hands of the Culare. The paws? The claws? I’m not sure ‘hands’ is the correct thing to say here…”

Seista sighed. “You would go and do something like this, wouldn’t you? Stop moaning like that, you sound like a dead cow. I’ll kill the Culare for you and save your idiot backside. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harold sniffed.

So Seista Nikita put on her very tall platform shoes. These shoes were easily a foot and a half tall. You wouldn’t think anyone would be able to walk in such shoes, unless maybe they went to clown college and learned how to use stilts. Seista was a very acrobatic and skilled young woman, though, so while she wobbled a bit, she managed to stay upright all the way to the nearest meadow, which was badly overgrown with wildflowers, pokeweed, ground cover plants, and about half a billion tiny mimosa seedlings. She began to pick flowers and toss them into the air.

The Culare appeared. “SLEAZOID!” he boomed.

“Come and get me, shag-face!” Seista yelled, which was a reference to his lion-like mane rather than some sort of rude reference to a private activity. She kicked off her shoes, directly in front of the Culare, and ran. The Culare tried to pursue, but he tripped over her shoes and broke a forepaw.

“Damn,” Seista said, after escaping. “Those shoes were big enough that he should have tripped over them and broken his neck.” The thought occurred to her that perhaps she should have factored in the fact that he had four legs, and therefore had better balance than she’d accounted for. “I’ll just have to think of something else!”

An hour later, after getting into sneakers and sensible clothes, she climbed a tall cherry tree, went up as far as she could before the branches could no longer hold her weight, and began to pick cherry blossoms. It wasn’t long before the Culare appeared. “YOU AGAIN?”

“Nah, nah, nah nyah nah!” Seista taunted.  She was tall and strong and very acrobatic and fairly smart, but she was, admittedly, more than a little childish.

The Culare leapt at the tree and began to climb up. Seista waited until it had almost reached her, then dropped, letting go of the branch she was on… having already checked that there was another branch right below her. From there, she clambered down as fast as she could go. She figured that would hold him until he starved to death; the Culare was obviously a type of cat, and cats are terrible at climbing down trees.

So she went home to Harold, who was watching a Tarzan movie. It was an animated Disney reboot in 3D. “Well, I took care of that problem.”

“Really?” Harold turned, his 3D glasses sliding off his face. “O my beloved, my thanks know no bounds—”

“Skip it.”

A bulletin interrupted the Tarzan movie. “We interrupt this movie for an important bulletin.”  This was impressively implausible, since the movie was on a streaming service and you wouldn’t think anything could break into and interrupt one of those.

The Culare’s face appeared on the television. “SEISTA NIKITA, IF YOU’RE OUT THERE, YOU’RE DEAD!”

Seista stared in shock, as the movie resumed. How had he gotten out of that tree? …oh yeah, he could teleport. She probably should have thought of that.

“I thought you said you took care of it!” Harold whined.

“Shut up, I’m trying to think.” Tarzan swung across the jungle floor on a vine. The 3D was powerful enough that he visibly swung toward Seista, despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing 3D glasses. “Oh! That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“Harold.” She patted his very handsome cheeks. “I love you dearly but you’re too stupid to know what I’m talking about.”

***

Nearby, there was a ravine, where Seista found a tree on one side. With a very long rope, tied to an upper branch of the tree, and a rock tied to one side of it, she flung the rope to the other side, getting it caught on the other side of a bush. There was a bridge a few hundred feet away; she ran down to it, crossed it, and went back to the bush.

With the rope held in one hand, she picked a dandelion.

The Culare appeared. “THAT’S IT! YOU’RE DEAD!”

As he leapt at her, Seista grabbed the rope and swung to the other side.  The Culare roared and leapt at her, apparently unable to see the cliff through the bush.  It turned out he couldn’t teleport if he was in midair; he fell to his death in the ravine below.

She and Harold were married the next week. Three months after that, Seista left Harold to find herself, and ran away to a country where she worked as a stuntwoman in movies. Harold mooned over her for another month before finding his next true love. Seista herself never married again, having decided that being tied down by romance wasn’t for her… particularly since she seemed to be sexually attracted to idiots. She had many fun and satisfying sexual relationships with people whose stupidity didn’t have to impact her life very much.

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 5 Episode 2 Recap: It’s Group B Time, let’s meet them! (Commentary & Guesses)

Hello my fellow Masked Singer fanatics! Welcome (or welcome back) to Ana’s Masked Singer recap, where I, Ana (nice to virtually meet you btw), recap every single episode of The Masked Singer. Here we are again with season 5, but this time another group, Group B, which consist of Black Swan 🖤🦢, Piglet 🐷, Chameleon 🦎, Grandpa Monster 👹 👴, and Phoenix 🦜.

So, let’s begin with the first eliminated contestant of Group B:

The first eliminated contestant was:

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

Phoenix 🦜

Commentary: Ok, so this wasn’t surprising whatsoever, she sang Tik Tok by Kesha and you can obviously tell that she isn’t a singer at all. Like idk how else to explain it to you guys, but I guess she was talk singing... kind of like Wendy/the lips last season... so it was kind of easy the moment she opened her mouth to start singing to recognize immediately who it was...

Having said that, she was revealed to be (as I knew, this one wasn’t hard)...

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

Caitlyn Jenner

Hehe I knew it! Again, like Wendy Williams aka the lips, this was way too obvious. She already walked around Hollywood Blvd with the Don’t Talk to me hoodie on so I knew she was going to be on the show but the min I saw Phoenix, the clues, and the moment she opened her mouth, I was so certain it was Caitlyn. No, I am not a big Kardashian/Jenner fan tbh but I used to watch the show way back when.... like in 2016? I am not sure, but I recognized her voice immediately.

Now onto my guesses for the remaining 4:

1. Black Swan 🦢🖤

Commentary: So she sang Barracuda by Heart and damn, she got a strong voice! It’s a really amazing voice, even though the song choice wasn’t my favorite, because it didn’t suit her voice completely and showcase her range, but she was badass (can I say that? Whatever, this is my show, I’ll say it, it’s not THAT bad of a word) tbh. In certain parts, she was like screaming a lot and I was like um maybe this isn’t her best song choice but her voice is amazing! She gives me Seahorse mixed with Flamingo vibes, I love her!

I think she is singer extraordinaire:

Jojo (not Siwa but we have another Jojo on our hands)

Reasoning/Clues: there are so many clues that match but her voice is the main thing that clicked for me that it was her, but let’s look at those clues so you can get the picture:

Wanted Poster with RV highlighted= she appeared in the movie RV with Robin Williams

She talks about being trapped and someone else’s prey and then getting out of it= she was trapped in her record label & there was controversy surrounding it and she had to sue her label for not releasing her music

A 5 on a watch= she toured with 5th harmony and has released 5 albums

Cluedledoo (Rooster) clue= she covered a monster= she covered one of T-Pain aka the Monster from season 1’s songs

2. Piglet 🐷

Commentary: He was my favorite of the night with his rendition of Speechless by Dan + Shay! You guys know if you have seen my recaps in season 3 (or even last week with Robopine) that I have a soft spot for a guy who has a super silky voice, like either boy band type or R&B smooth af kinda vibe (i.e. Fox in season 2, Turtle in season 3, Robopine in season 5).... or should I say any guy who can falsetto and Piglet is giving me those boy band smooth vibes, I love it so much! His voice is soooo familiar I am so sure about this one by the way.

My guess and I am so sure of this is:

Nick Lachey

Reasoning/Clues: This one I recognized immediately, the voice was really easy to figure out, but these clues also are pretty convincing (oh and he was on Ken’s show, I Can See Your Voice, so it’s not surprising that he would be on this show):

The clue package had a dating show vibe = reminiscent of Love is Blind, the Netflix dating show he hosts with his wife Vanessa

The world saw his heart break= he had a very public relationship with his ex-wife Jessica Simpson and they even had a reality show together called Newlyweds

Cluedle-doo clue: “knows how to stay cool even in the heat”= referring to his past aka his boy band 98 degrees (get it? Because that’s the heat and they are cool because they are a boy band... well played Masked Singer well played... I wanna meet whoever makes these clues because they are great with puns and they seem super clever)

3. Chameleon 🦎

Commentary: Chameleon surprised me I am not gonna lie. I thought he was going to be another athlete like Whatchamacallit last season or White Tiger from season 3 because he was so tall but nope he surprised me with his rendition of Ride with Me by Nelly. He seems like a legit rapper and I liked him a lot than I thought I would honestly so this guess isn’t totally out of left field.

My guess is that this is...

Wiz Khalifa

Reasoning/Clues: so yeah, the voice and the height kinda gave it away to me (Wiz is 6 foot 4 inches and his body type matches the chameleon), but also yeah clues I have to give you guys some logic bombs instead of being like eh that voice and height BOOM WIZ KHALIFA... yeah no it doesn’t work like that, so here are the logic bombs hehe:

Dice with 2 and 3 on it= he did a song with Miley Cyrus called 23

007 clue= he has a song called (yes this is real, look it up) James Bong (omg I am trying not to laugh while typing this but whatttt?! Google really is a gem omg 😳😂) and he played James Bond in the music video

His love of technology & “put tech in technicolor”= apparently, the guy is a huge tech geek and has said it in a lot of interviews (wow humans are so complex and cool, I would have never thought that this man is a tech savvy guy... but the more you know I guess <P.S. I Googled half of these things... like idk this off the top of my head duh, I usually go by voice with my guesses and then I google the clues>)

4. Grandpa Monster

Commentary: He sang Mambo No. 5 and yeah it’s a basic choice for a song, but I liked it. He is not my favorite by any means and now that I listen to it again, I can only hear this person and I am not a fan of him like whatsoever (even tho I gotta acknowledge he has changed and I have *I KNOW... I HATE ME TOO* agreed with stuff he has said in his podcast un ironically.... yeah I am so sorry, I hate myself for saying this too... anyways let’s just get to the person I mean

I have a sneaking suspicion that it is (unfortunately):

Logan Paul

Reasoning/Clues: Yup, um... I really hope I am wrong but honestly ever since someone said it in the YouTube comments section of his performance, I can’t un hear it and I am shook honestly (at least it’s not his brother... I mean we can get worse, and he has respected the pandemic and not been a prick like his *cough* brother *cough*... just saying.. oh and if you don’t know what I am talking about or who this is, he’s a YouTuber who got into some um controversy because he filmed a dead body in 2018 so there’s that... oh and his brother has done a billion worse things than him, but you can Google that one if you are interested in finding out more because it’s too much for me to talk about and we are not even talking about Jake (that’s the brother))... Anyways, sorry, I ramble, but ugh the clues seem convincing and it irks me that it is because I am not a fan of neither of these guys and I don’t want them in the show but whatever I guess he’s the lesser of 2 evils:

He was a troublemaking fool as a youngster= yeah probably regarding that suicide forest video a couple of years ago (that ok, lemme give him credit, he has apologized for it and has kind of proven himself... yuck I hate saying that, I am NOT defending him I swear)

Acting out for all eyes on me= he used to be very well known for pranks on his channel back in the day (before the incident) and he did some stupid stuff for clout lemme tell ya (I never liked these guys, like ever, I thought they were weird.... not my demographic I guess, I wasn’t 12 nor a boy)

6 in Xs and Os like football plays = he did play football 🏈 in high school, he was so good that and actually attributes playing football for long term brain damage he has that makes him as the Wikipedia article says it (I am legit gonna quote what it says because I thought it was fascinating) “affects his ability to have empathy and a human connection with others.” (Mind you, he himself claimed this according to this article)

“Acting out”= he has acted in a few things before and starred in The Thinning

Web with the shooting star= he is a web star, get it? YouTube... web star... hehe again these clue writers are *chef’s kiss*

Cluedle-doo clue: he has trained for battle= now his new thing is boxing and he has trained for actual fights before, his first one being against British YouTuber KSI which he lost... oh and I almost forgot, how can I forget this cute little detail.... he is set to fight Floyd Mayweather this summer apparently... OH AND DID I MENTION HE IS MAKING 5 MILLION DOLLARS FROM THIS DEAL?! He’s winning either way with this fight like damn... but that wasn’t part of it, I just thought it was trippy... again I say, Google is a gem, u find some interesting reads

Ok so that’s it (what a great note to end on lol)! I hope you guys enjoy! Sorry for it being so long and taking so much time to do.. it’s been a crazy last couple of days! I will try to get the next one this upcoming weekend so I’ll see you guys then. (Ohhh btw I now live tweet the show on my Twitter- @photolover82 so if you want to follow me on there and live tweet with me, that can be fun!) Bye guys and don’t forget to like, comment, and do all the social media-y things, you know the drill!

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 6–The Sinking Story; Scene 1

Judgment of Corruption, pages 172-181

Yo, long time no see!

…Yes. It has been quite a long time.

Because over fourteen years have passed since then.

.

Gallerian was doing alright.

He had finally managed to reach the top.

This was the birth of USE Dark Star Bureau Director Gallerian Marlon.

.

At the same time as he was inaugurated into the position, he announced the formation of a new special organization within the bureau.

Given the antagonistic relationship that they’d had with the world police that was a concern before, and the people’s dissatisfaction with them—

This organization was created as a result of that.

Its name was “Police Neutrality”—meaning a neutral police force, in essence. It was a name loaded with cynicism towards the World Police. It went by “PN” for short.

The position of its leader was taken by a commissioned officer of the USE allied forces.

Shiro Netsuma…The white-haired woman who had once shot Gallerian, and delivered the killing blow to Loki. She had not retired from her role in the USE united army, and held her post there concurrently with her position as PN’s leader.

Only, Shiro had the weakness of being poor in normal communication. In order to combat this, Hel Jaakko was appointed her vice-commander, as someone who could be well-versed in the internal state of affairs within the Dark Star Bureau.

Part of the Yarera Zusco Conglomerate’s private army was dispatched to make up PN’s forces. They already had a strong relationship with Gallerian, and on top of that had no connection to the World Police at all.

Leading these forces was Feng Li. Having worked for a long time as Gusuma Yarera’s bodyguard, he was not one to be treated like a simple tiger. He was a fine human being, and had a great deal of respect among his unit as their commander.

.

The fact remained that the Freezis Conglomerate was a massively powerful trade organization, but its power had begun to weaken compared to how it had once been.

A war had started in the Republic of Maistia over liberation of its slaves—and thanks to that, the conglomerate had lost their footing in the continent.

One could argue that, now, the position of top organization in the Evillious region had shifted from the Freezises to the Yarera Zusco Conglomerate.

.

Contrary to the enrichment of Gallerian’s professional self, his private life wasn’t especially satisfactory for him.

He made sure that no one could tell from the surface, but his marriage with Mira had completely fallen apart. They hardly ever talked in the house anymore. They had added three more servants to their staff outside of Bruno, and Gallerian’s estate was fairly bustling, but with Gallerian and Mira there was always a cold atmosphere between them.

Gallerian devoted all of that affection to his one daughter, Michelle. It was a level of doting that exceeded words like “spoiling” and “over-fond parent”, to where even Bruno would be amazed at times.

At sixteen years old, Michelle had grown into a beautiful girl, with the same pretty green hair as her mother and the graceful features of her father.

There were times when one of Bruno’s fellow servants, Rennert, would idly grumble, “I shudder to think about what’ll happen when she gets a boyfriend.”

That was because Gallerian was liable to go half-mad no matter what kind of man it was.

Michelle herself always seemed to be worrying about the poor relationship between her parents, but she never let those feelings come forth publicly. For she knew that could be scandalous to her father as the director of the Dark Star Bureau. She was a kind, intelligent girl. And she was slated to enroll in Levin University that upcoming spring.

.

The doorbell rang through Gallerian’s home.

“Just a secooond,” replied Larisa, one of Gallerian’s servants.

But at that moment she was in the middle of roasting a Rollam bird in the oven, so she couldn’t leave to answer the door.

“Could someone get that for me! Katerina! …Wait, I think she’s out shopping. Rennert! Bruno!”

But she received no reply from the other two servants who should have been in the house.

“Good grief. Those men are as unthoughtful as always.”

Just as Larisa was growing more flummoxed, Michelle appeared, cheery as can be.

“I’ll go get the door for you, Larisa.”

“Miss Michelle! …No, it would be a disgrace for a servant to make the young woman of the house do such a thing. Just get Rennert or Bruno to—”

“They both seem busy--Rennert is trimming the grass in the back garden and Bruno is helping Papa with his work in the study—Don’t worry, you just focus on cooking the Rollam bird, ha ha.”

“Thank you kindly, young miss. Well then, with my apologies, I leave it to you.”

The doorbell rang again.

“Got it, I’m coming!”

Michelle lifted up the ends of her skirt and delightedly ran to the foyer.

When she opened the door, she saw a tall, thin man standing there next to a white-haired woman. Both of them were wearing USE army uniforms.

“Hey, Uncle Tony! And you have Miss Shiro with you.”

“My my, as precious as ever, little Michelle.”

Gallerian’s friend Tony Ausdin smiled as he greeted her.

Shiro Netsuma silently bobbed her head, a shy smile on her face.

“Is Gallerian in?”

“Papa’s with Bruno in the study right now…Papa! Uncle Tony and Miss Shiro are here!” Michelle yelled, racing further down the hall.

Tony gave a sarcastic laugh as he watched her go. “…She’s healthy, that one!” Then he glanced over at Shiro, standing beside him. “—You could stand to be a little bit more like that.”

“Um…Uh…Sorry.”

“…Well, whatever.”

The two of them stepped inside and headed for the study.

.

After managing to graduate without much trouble from university, Tony Ausdin enlisted into the USE allied forces as planned.

Though at first he had merely seemed a poor student, he had come to show more alert, active behavior, as though having awakened since gaining some experience in small-scale warfare.

He had offered up great military gains such as in the suppression war against the Asmodean guerillas and in the sixteenth search and destroy operation against the dead soldiers, and was soundly promoted through the ranks as a result of that—

Currently, he had somehow managed to achieve the rank of major general in the USE army.

“That you could achieve such distinction despite your youth…Frankly I could never have imagined it when we were students,” Gallerian said in honest praise of Tony.

“Hey now. Didn’t you say that I was a ‘future general’ and all that nonsense? Was that a lie?”

“Did I? …I must have been trying to spare your feelings back then or something.”

“Ha ha ha—Well, we’ve both moved up in the world, Mister Dark Star Bureau Director.”

Gallerian and Tony had seen each other frequently over the past few years.

There was the fact that they were childhood friends. But more than that--there was a great deal of meaning in a companionship between two people who stood at the core of two components so essential to the USE as law and military. The foundation of PN by Gallerian likely wouldn’t have been possible without Tony’s cooperation.

“By the by…What business do you have here today that Shiro would bring you along for?” Gallerian asked Tony, getting down to business.

“Ah, well there is an issue. We have a favor to ask of you. And given Shiro’s personality she’s not liable to get to the point.”

“…?”

“—It’s ‘Ma’. I…or rather, the USE allied forces, requires her aid now.”

“…”

Upon hearing that name Gallerian’s expression clouded, as well as Bruno’s beside him.

“Ma, huh…As I remember she was a collaborator of mine. Not just me, but for Bruno and Shiro here as well. But nowadays I have no idea where she is or what she’s doing. One day she just up and disappeared. Around the same time as Hanma Baldured went missing.”

Gallerian looked to Shiro. She shook her head, as though to say that she didn’t know either.

“Bruno…What about you? Do you know anything of her whereabouts?”

“No—It’s been fourteen years since she vanished. During that time I have not heard so much as a rumor of her. I don’t even know if she’s still alive…” Bruno replied somewhat uncomfortably.

He had not told Gallerian that he was the one to drive Ma away.

“Sigh…So even you don’t know…”

Tony’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“Tony. Why are the USE allied forces searching for Ma?”

“…It’s the ‘dead soldiers’.”

“You mean those corpses that have risen from their graves to attack people. That’s one of the more dangerous occurrences amidst all the changes in the world.”

“They’ve been carrying on their activity for a while now, and each time the army has suppressed them. …But they aren’t decreasing in number. After all is said and done, they were originally human corpses. And as long as humans aren’t immortal, as long as there’s still corpses being made, then the dead soldiers will continue to increase without end.”

Hearing that, Bruno’s brow furrowed.

“You can’t mean…you intend to get the secret of immortality from Ma?”

“If she knows such a secret I would certainly want to ask her, true. But that’s not it. Though they’re called dead soldiers, their battle potential is frankly not all that impressive. Their movements are sluggish, and it’s not all that difficult to fell them just by sustained attacks—Until now.”

“So then…you’re saying that’s no longer the case?”

“We now have ‘dead soldier mutants’. These creatures have begun to appear lately that have different powers from the rest. Some are excessively strong, some are fast like a monkey—Fortunately they are few in number at present, but whenever they show up on the battlefield our casualties go up immediately.”

“That—sounds dangerous.”

“The worst of the lot is a variety that we’ve come to call the ‘Worldeater’. We’ve only seen it once, on the eastern front, but according to reports its height is estimated to be over four meters tall…There are some people saying it was larger than that. At such a height, it’s doubtful that it was ever originally a human being. This one was able to drive back the entire battalion before it could be destroyed.”

“…This sounds like something out of a fairytale.” Gallerian leaned forward with great interest. “Then—how did you repel that one?”

“We didn’t. It returned to wherever it had come from on its own. Under the persuasion of another variety of mutant that’s appeared.”

“Persuasion? But I’d always heard the dead soldiers had no intelligence.”

“That’s right. But this one is different. Its body isn’t all that big, but this dead soldier—it can speak like a person. Among the top brass there’s murmurs that this may in fact be the leader of the dead soldiers…. At any rate, thanks to the existence of these mutants the USE allied forces are stuck in a hard fight. And so we want to borrow Lady Ma’s wisdom, given she distinguished herself during the witch trial reforms.”

Gallerian folded his arms and thought.

“Hmm…It’s true that Ma has a great deal of magical knowledge. But what would she know about dead soldiers?”

“There’s documents that claim that dead soldiers appeared in the Beelzenian Empire centuries ago, around the time of the Retasan Coup. Legends says that the woman named Gumillia who opposed them was actually a sorceress.”

“And so you think Ma could have that power too…I see. That’s a very vague prospect. There was a theory long ago that the dead soldiers were being controlled by magic, but that’s been definitively disproven nowadays—by none other than Ma herself.”

“Even so, there’s still a slight possibility. As we have no other options, we have to pursue that slim chance that it can be done.”

“…Whatever the case may be, you still don’t know where she…”

At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The person who entered then was one of the servants, Katerina.

“Ah, Katerina. Have you finished shopping?”

“I have—and at the entrance I met with our mail carrier. Though they weren’t the normal person who brings it over. They gave me a letter for you, Sir.”

Katerina held out a letter for him. Gallerian took it and cut the seal with a pair of scissors.

“This is…” After looking at the contents, Gallerian’s expression turned to one of mute amazement. “Speak of the devil—what excellent timing.”

The letter was from Ma.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[jeonggukkiepabo]

MIKROKOSMOS [PJM]

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

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

WORD COUNT: 24k 

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

PROLOGUE x YOU’LL NEVER WALK ALONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

01 x FIRST LOVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 02 x BOY MEETS EVIL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mh, sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 03 x EPIPHANY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin was awake. 

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

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

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

“Minie, you awake?” 

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

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

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

Part 04 x I’M FINE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just know that Yoongi is a better man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 05 x THE TRUTH UNTOLD

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

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

Damn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Share.” 

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

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

Y/N. Angel. Princess. 

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

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

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

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

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

PART 06 x LOVE IS NOT OVER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could someone destroy himself without even realizing? 

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

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

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

“Jimin, why-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, I…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 07 x SO FAR AWAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now? 

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

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

But what did you get from it? 

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

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

You peer over to his pipe, still laying on the nightstand and the Ice that was still in his drawer. Somehow, you knew it was the only opportunity to get to him. 

Your hands were shaking as you opened the small bag and placing some of the clear crystals onto the pipe that you didn’t even bother to clean. Weed and Ice have to work together. You take a small drag before exhaling frantically, the fear somewhat still in your mind. 

“Don’t be a wimp”, you scold yourself before placing the pipe back between your lips and holding the flame of the lighter against the Ice. It felt like the fumes got right into your bloodstream and your head felt like a rollercoaster. You smirked, followed by a loud laughter before repeating the process once more. You feel the adrenalin and hope for Jimin to come back sooner, to get high with you, to love you, to admire you. 

You know that your relationship just got onto a whole new level and there wouldn’t be anything that could separate you from now on. 

Your love was devastating, you would die for each other. You were almost angry that Jimin wouldn’t want to share that amazing experience with you, so you inhale once more, trying to get the double amount of fun. Mischievously grinning, you put everything back onto its original place before opening the window and watching the birds outside. God damn, life was good. 

PART 08 x MAKE IT RIGHT

Jimin felt like he was captured in this room. 

He couldn’t live with his angel without feeling like someone ripped his heart apart. 

You think he wouldn’t be able to think straight; that his brain was destroyed by all the drugs he took. But Jimin knows better. Since he took all the drugs, he had a clear mind, no demons in his head that were trying to interrupt his thoughts. He didn’t believe you talking about him being the love of your life – he knows everyone hates him. 

You were clean, you did it. 

You broke free. And now you see him like every clean person sees junkies. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what he looked like. The thing is, he wasn’t hungry anymore and he didn’t want to waste time just to eat. He showered every single day, maybe even twice, but he was sweating pure venom, pure drug-smell coming straight from his pores. He smelt just like the other junkies. 

You thought Crystal would be the dead-end, but Jimin was way deep down the hole. He took Heroin, not smoking it but shooting it straight into his veins. IV. Death in a needle. 

There are plenty of human beings that consume Heroin their entire life without you being able to recognize that, Jimin thought he was one of them. He shot H for about 2 years now, he had days where he didn’t need any – when he was with his angel -, but most of the time, he shot once or twice a day. 

Of course, he lied to you. Sure, he could go for a Cold Turkey just to be with you, but to be honest: Who would quit Heroin as long as there’s good stuff out there and there’s enough money to buy it? 

He would never. 

Not even for you. 

Not for billions on his bank account. 

He didn’t want to fight you. He wants to keep on loving you, but he couldn’t fight for you. Maybe you could accept him that way, accept his drug use and his lies. 

One night, Jimin came home late again, he decided to apologize, trying to get you all soft for him again. But when he came through the door, his “Listen, princess” kept sticking in his throat. The smell of weed lingers in the air, mixed with something else. His angel was laying on his bed, smiling like an idiot, watching youTube-videos until you looked up at him. “Minie, babe!” You jump off the bed, but Jimin pushes you back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me you’re kidding me. First of all, you stole from me. Second, you’re taking my drugs. Third, WHY are you even doing that? I thought you were clean. Did you lie to me the entire time?” – Just like he lied to her, nice try, Jimin. 

“Why are you so angry, Minie? C’mon here and I’ll let you fuck me really good – I can even play with your ass like Tae did if you’re into that. I won’t judge you, you know that.” 

Jimin wanted to rip his hair out, but that wouldn’t change anything. His precious angel smoked Ice and wouldn’t quit doing that so soon. 

“Listen, angel, babe. Why did you take this away from me? You wanted me to stop taking drugs, but you’re lying here totally high? That’s not what we wanted, precious.” He holds your beautiful face in his large shaky hands, looking you straight into the eyes. But your eyes weren’t the same anymore, the color was dull, no shine in it and hooded.

 Jimin couldn’t find the girl he loved in there. 

"I came to say sorry. I’m not good for you, angel. It’s best for me to leave college and leave you behind me as well. Like you said, I maybe have a few months left before dying. Don’t waste your feelings on me.” 

He kisses your cheek ever so softly before standing up. “I’m sleeping somewhere else, getting my stuff tomorrow and then your life will be Junkie-free. I’m so fucking sorry, angel, believe me. It’s better for both of us to finally end this toxic relationship. You deserve a normal life without me. It probably will never be like it was before, but you can change yours. Please, promise me one thing: stop taking drugs, angel. You’ll find your dream guy, having a family and anything I couldn’t offer you. Fuck, I can’t apologize enough. I love you, okay? Even if I made you go through all of this, believe me. Nothing was harder than letting you go, even if it’s the hundredth time by now. This time I’m keeping my promise. Goodbye, angel.” 

He quickly runs out of the door without turning around, he knows you were crying. He knows you would be screaming after him, but you wouldn’t run after him. You were paralyzed and will realize what really happened by tomorrow. You will hate him, but that’s for the best. Hate. Disappointment. Anger. But Jimin knew he wasn’t as egoistic as you'd be thinking. You were his life, he’d kill for you. But he’d do the same for Heroin. 

Everything. 

Even selling his body. 

And now that he had no home left, he knew what would come next. Streetlife. Begging. Prostitution. 

PART 09 X YOUNG FOREVER

His words were stuck in your head while you watched him leave your shared – now only your – room. Nothing had changed, he still didn’t want you. But you can’t run after him, so you lay back instead and close your eyes without losing a single tear. Your thoughts were still obscure and your body paralyzed, you can’t even feel you loss but fall into a deep slumber. 

“Y/N, wake up! Where is he? What did you do to him?”, you wake up and open your eyes hectically just to see Taehyung in front of you. His hands were on your shoulders and he shook you the entire time. “Fuck, Tae, who are you talking about?”, you get rid of his grip to stretch your body while yawning. Why did he even have to wake you that early on a Saturday? “Hm, who could be away? Jimin, of course! You dumbass, he wasn’t at our usual spot, there was just this fucking note!” He throws some pretty rough looking yellow paper at you. 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’m leaving ‘cause it’s the best for Y/N. Take care of her. Please. I’ll see you when you’re dead – hopefully, later than me. J"

Stunned, you kept reading and reading Jimin's messy handwriting until the words were burnt into your eyes. “He’s gone?” Tears form in your eyes while your hands start to shake. “Tae, tell me he’s not gone!” Your voice gets louder, the paper falls down. 

“Tae, goddamn it, say something!“ But Taehyung remains quiet, balling his hands to fists while clenching his jawline. “It’s your fault you fucking slut. What did you do to him once again? Can’t you just stay out of his life? Who knows what he’s doing to himself now?!“ The veins on his neck are popping out as he began to yell, but his words didn’t hurt you. Your thoughts were filled with Jimin. He left you just like you left him a couple of times. It hurts. 

“What could he do to himself, he’s swallowing more pills, smokes more weed and Crack, what else?” You acted ice-cold, trying not to cry anymore. 

“Sure, I forgot we were talking about Jimin, the guy that never takes drugs that’s why his life is so perfect. Y/N, what are you even talking about? Jimin stopped taking pills months ago, he’s shooting Heroin for around 2 years now. Are you listening? Heroin. The stuff that killed thousands of people, you idiot. If he doesn’t want to live anymore, he might just shoot some more H than usual. The golden shot.” You listen to Taehyung, but you break out in a loud burst of laughter as soon as he stops talking. 

“Sure, Heroin. I know him, I know how much he hates it! He promised me he’ll never take it.” 

Taehyung snorts while sitting next to you, head in his hands. “Y/N, I know lots of addicts, there ain’t love or promises as soon as you’re down there. The only love they feel is for H. The thing that kills them. But you’re only in second place. Sorry, but if we don’t look after him as fast as possible, he’ll be gone. You were his only anchor that saved him from drowning. But you made him leave and he’ll never come back on his own.” 

Taehyung was right, Jimin was gone. And you? You were shocked, angry and… sad. Because even though he promised you he loved you, it was fake. He spent your entire relationship on one of the hardest drugs, were you that dumb to not realize anything? 

“Hey, we’ll find him, okay? Let me grab my stuff and we’ll head out to look for him”, Taehyung wraps one arm around you and you and pulls you against his chest. Soon enough both of you were breaking out into sobs - and you kept crying the entire time Taehyung went into his room to put on his jacket and some shoes.

You cried while looking through Jimin's belongings, he left anything in your room; weed, pills and those fine crystals. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, fully concentrated on the Ice that was lying in front of you. Soon enough, not even 3 minutes later, you were high again, not shedding a single tear, not even knowing why you've been sad in the first place. Until Taehyung came into your room, shaking his head in disappointment and dragging you along their journey to find Jimin. 

The city was almost empty, nobody was walking around, and the clouds hung low in the sky, ready to let a storm out. “I don’t know where else to look for him, Tae. I’m getting tired”, Your mood was on its lowest while you kicked empty bottles of beer around. 

Taehyung shrugs. “Last step: the train station. But when he’s really there, we won’t have a chance to get him back.” 

You didn’t know why a normal station could be that bad, you just follow him through the thick gates of the main station. You hide your nose under your shirt as soon as the smell of piss, trash and vomit hits your senses. You made your way through the floors without talking, the amount of trash and empty cans highly rising. 

“Tae, I don’t think he’s gonna be..”, but Taehyung interrupts you with a quick hand movement. 

There, between all of those homeless people was Jimin. 

His head resting against the wall, eyes half-closed. 

“C’mon”, Taehyung holds her arm while walking straight up to them. “Jimin, move your ass and stand up.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Fucking rich kids...” 

The crosstalk begins, but Jimin remains quiet. He looks at you, but he doesn’t make a move to stand up. His eyes were sad, but his countenance stays emotionless. 

“I told you, go away. Leave me alone”, he ignores Taehyung but looks at you. 

“Minie, please..”, your voice breaks. 

“Aww, Jimin, did you find yourself a girlfriend? Cute. What do you take, honey? Ready for a tin?” Some guy with a black Mohican holds up a coke can. 

“Jin, no.” 

Jimin tries to take the can away from him, but his strength was all gone. “I’m…” 

“We don’t need anything, thanks.” Once again, it was Taehyung who talked for both of you. “They’re clean, you don’t need to waste your stuff on them”, Jimin's voice was weak. 

“Cute. Didn’t know you were friends with that kind of people. C’mon, hun”, Jin holds the can in your direction and you take it, confusion displayed on your face. Not knowing what to do, you look at the tiny hole in it. Watching the smoke coming through that hole, Jin pressures you. 

“C’mon”, he holds his lighter under the can to heat up whatever was inside of it. You look over to Jimin while trying to keep your tears hidden before taking a hit. Taehyung pulls you against himself, Jimin jumps up, but it’s too late. Your body was exploding as if a firework was lit inside you. Each and every nerve was reacting to this substance before you collapse into Taehyung’s arms. Jimin screams in anger. “Y/N!” Then he falls onto his knees. “You’re so stupid, I told you hundreds of times, now you’re into it too.” 

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you woke up hours later, the burning need in your veins permanent. You must’ve fallen asleep, now laying here, your head in Jimin’s lap. You didn’t know the place you were at, it couldn’t be the train station, but everyone from there was here as well. Now all of those train station kids were sitting here - well, and you -  it looks like it was some kind of old factory, and once again the coke can was going around. You sit up, pressing a soft kiss to Jimin's lips before grabbing the can once again. Some girl with ripped leggings just laughs. 

“Look at her. When you want some of your stuff, you need to pay for it, alright? We just share for money.“ 

Jimin's calming hands on your back were gone and he pulls you up with him. “Listen to me, angel. I hope you know what you did? I can’t insult you or blame you for anything because it’s all my fault, but run as long as you can. Heroin is no fun. Look at those Junk Boys and -girls. We’re all fucked – you’re not. You may want to take it but you don’t need to yet. Please, angel”, he looks at you, pleading and ready to do whatever it takes him to stop you, but you just shake your head, throwing a 20 Dollar-Bill on the floor and take the hit that lets you experience your second real high. 

Then, you kiss Jimin once again. 

“We’re in this together, babe. I love you. And even if you die, then we’ll both die. But let’s enjoy the time before that“, with that, the entire group explodes in applause and laughter, but you didn’t even realize that because you were already fast asleep in Jimin's arms. 

PART 10 X BADBYE

“Is there really no money left? Damn it, I need a shot. Now. Jimin!” 

You kick Jimin, but he was still high, just got done with his shot while you were waiting for yours. Usually, he was the one that gave you the shot because you couldn’t do it on your own. 

“FUCK!” 

You take the remaining Heroin off the foil, snorting whatever was left on there to get at least a tiny high. Unluckily, it wasn’t enough. It was like always. Jimin got the money, Jimin got most of the Heroin. You were dependent on him, have to wait until he allows you to take some of his drugs. “

If you don’t wake up I have to go get my own stuff.” But your threat didn’t do anything. Jimin was still blacked out on the floor. You were annoyed as you put on some clothes, and left the place you were currently living in. You walk down the streets without any destination. 

You didn’t know where Jimin was buying the stuff, neither did you know how he paid for it. Yoongi, Taehyung, Jeongguk – neither of them wanted to stay in contact as soon as they knew what was going on. Everyone was okay with smoking weed, but nobody was fine with shooting H. 

You play around with the contacts on your phone before calling one number, the number you thought you’d never call again. It rings three times before a loving voice answered. 

“Y/N, my precious child! You didn’t talk to us for so long, how are you? Dad and I were so worried! College called and told us you were gone? What are you doing? Where are you? Who’s with you?” 

You shrug, laughing it off. “Hi, mom.“ 

That evening, you're coming home with empty pockets, but with two online-train tickets back home to visit your family. “Baby, we’re going home! My mom wants us to live with them, they have enough money and we don’t need to look for another flat! I can show you around my hometown!“ 

You were on fire, packing all your belongings while Jimin slowly wakes up. “Did you think about that, angel? Your mother will realize how fucked up we are. What are you going to tell her? Everyone knows what a Junkie looks like. It won’t work.” 

“I don’t care if you’re coming with me or not. I’m going. I don’t need to worry about money for Heroin while you’re out there doing whatever. I need as much as you do, it’s not enough for me to snort whatever’s left since I started shooting as well!” 

“I’m not doing whatever, I’m fucking prostituting myself! I can’t go away from my customers, okay?” He looks down at the floor, not daring to look at you. Did he really just say that he sells his body? That he’s fucking someone else just to earn money? 

“You’re a hooker? Are you serious? You’re cheating on me to earn money? Wow, Jimin. That’s how much I mean to you? You’re letting some strangers fuck your ass? That’s why you don’t want to fuck me anymore? I guess you’re having enough orgasms throughout the day, huh? Well, you know what? Fuck you, Park.” Once again, your heart shattered in thousands of pieces while you run away once more, leaving him alone once more. Crying once more. 

It must’ve been ages since you saw Jimin the last time. You weren't counting in days but in shots. 

Your mother didn’t seem to notice anything about your addiction, she just thinks you're going through a rough break up. Of course, you were thinking about him, every fucking day. But it was never a positive thought. 

You always thought about your life without him. Your fist swings against the wall once again, you tend to do that a lot. Some bloodstains were already on it, but you didn’t care. You got nervous again, pulling your drawer open just to realize that there’s nothing in it. Just a last tiny piece of foil, nothing more. 

“Mom, you there?” You scream and leave your room without even looking into the mirror. She wasn’t there, like always. Her bag was with her and her wallet as well. They hadn’t had any money left in their house – why would they? Your mom paid anything with her credit card. You ramble through the rooms, searching for anything you could sell, but there was literally nothing. 

Without any money in your pockets you walk through the train station, searching for any ‘friend’ that owes you Heroin. None of them had some and you got on turkey rather quickly. You were shaking, crying and sweating. 

Soon enough, you realized there was one last thing left. The thing that broke your relationship. The thing that was the most disgusting thing to do. The thing you thought you’d never do. 

You had never thought about selling your body just to destroy it. 

You had never thought about letting someone else besides Jimin fucking you just for money. 

You had never thought that you wouldn’t find it as bad as you probably should. 

It was a fast way to make money. And you needed it fast. 

It was the twelfth day in a row that you were standing here to earn some extra coins. You almost felt like a celebrity on the streets, you could decide who to fuck and who to leave. There are many people here, some around your age, some older and some stone old guys. It’s not like you needed to go on the streets every day, you had enough money by now that you could easily go out there every third day, but it was fun and games for you. You were in a flow, didn’t want to stop, just seeing the dollar signs in each customer. 

The amount of Heroin in your room was enormous, you couldn’t even shoot that much without falling into a coma-state but you collected it for bad times. But this day you were really glad you decided to come here, you wouldn’t know about him otherways. He was here. And he was suffering. 

You were just finishing up with your third customer that day when you saw him. His shaking body leaning against a wall, trying to look cool, but you knew how he really felt. He was suffering. You knew, if you'd ever see him like that, all your feelings would be there again. And here you were, trying to help him one again. 

He didn’t even look at you, but you knew he had to feel you coming. 

Once you were right in front of him, you were about to vomit just from his smell. But you couldn’t help it and hugged him. “Minie”, you mumbled against his skinny chest. Neither of you was moving. 

“Go away, Y/N.” But you couldn’t. 

“C’mon, Minie. I’ve got some.”  

You drag him with you, preparing your needle and cooking up some H for the both of you. “I don’t need your help, Y/N.” 

“I can see that.” 

You grab his arm and shoot the H directly into his veins, not allowing him to do it himself with those shaky hands. You took him home with you, explaining to your mother how sick he was and that he couldn’t go back into his own flat because he’s got a fever and needed someone to take care of him. 

“You’re such an angel, Y/N!” was all she said. 

It was the day, you used to call Day X. The day that changed everything. Your mother knew about your addiction by now, wanting to send you to therapy but you were over 18 – she couldn’t decide for you. Mother and daughter were heavily arguing in the living room while Jimin was in the middle of preparing his shot. You couldn’t stop thinking about the white powder, you were about to get on Turkey and easy to provoke by now. 

“Fuck off, mom.” You ran into your room, locking the door behind you and walking over to Jimin. 

“Hurry, Minie. Can’t wait anymore.” 

Of course, Jimin wasn’t able to help you once he shot the poison through his veins. “Fucking bastard” was all you mumbled before preparing everything yourself, before falling asleep in his lap. 

You didn’t know that you were going to be the only one waking up. 

Jimin shot way too much, you should’ve known. Sometimes you used to shoot so much that you were near to your limit, but survived it every time. It was the best feeling someone could reach, and you thought that was what Jimin needed back then. 

But he got colder and colder every minute. He didn’t wake up, not even through you shaking his body. 

That was the moment you realized his weird behavior. His lovely side the last few days, he was always cuddling and prepping you with kisses. He even bought you a ring.

You began to scream your soul out. You kissed his body and his cold lips. Tears were streaming down your face while you searched everything you needed and laid it down in front of you. The needle in one hand, Jimin's hand in the other. You laid down on his chest, cuddling into his pale body, trying to ignore the cold feeling. It was a routine by now, preparing everything for your last shot ever. 

You pull up the liquid into your needle, kissing Jimin one last time. It was the moment for your shot; the one that will bring you back to Jimin, into a peaceful world. 

As soon as the venom reached your veins and insides, you couldn’t help but smile while you intertwined your fingers and close your eyes forever in this painful life.

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Between You and the World (4 of 6)

CHAPTER FOUR: SIGHT - Mid-Summer, Year 1253

Chapter Summary: Geralt clears out some foglets for a village with a shockingly pleasant Alderman and Jaskier and Geralt have some soft time watching fireworks.

Story Summary: Geralt's senses are extraordinarily acute, allowing him to perceive far more than average. As necessary as those senses are for his profession, they can become overwhelming.

Or

Five times Jaskier helps Geralt through sensory overload, plus one time he didn't have to.  

CW: Battle scene, mentions of blood and injury (minor), Geralt's headspace, mentions of brothel prostitution (canon typical, brief, non-explicit mention), prejudice from villagers toward Witchers, witcher potion toxicity

LINK TO AO3

Approximately 6500 words under the cut.

SIGHT – Mid-Summer, Year 1253 

 As summer reached its height, the sun beating down on the land and sending drought racing across the continent, Geralt and Jaskier reached Lindenvale, a small, impoverished village in Velen.   Surrounded by swamp lands and devastated by the epidemic that followed the ever-northward march of the Nilfgaardian army, Lindenvale had the air of a village for which survival had become the goal, and thriving an unattainable dream. 

 Geralt had received word from Vesemir about an unusual increase in the number of traveler deaths in Velen, especially for this time of year when drought restricted the territory of the native drowners.  It was rare for Vesemir to dictate a Witcher’s Path, and the rarity of the order made clear its urgency.  So, immediately upon receipt, Geralt and Jaskier had packed up Roach and changed course for Lindenvale.   

 As they walked up the road to the village, Roach led between them, Geralt scanned the swampland on either side of the road, eyes narrowing as he took in the unusual stillness.  No birds chirped in the trees.  No bugs danced across the stagnant water.  No village children scampered about looking for frogs.  It was as if the world had died, leaving only the swamp.  

 Geralt felt unease fill him and stopped to mount Roach, pulling Jaskier up behind him.  Without a word, he kicked Roach into a gallop, anxious to put as much distance between them and the dead swamp as possible.  He would come back to investigate, but he would not put Jaskier or Roach at risk doing so now. 

 Jaskier was surprised at the sudden change, but seeing the tension in Geralt’s face, kept quiet, holding on tightly around Geralt’s middle as they raced over the narrow, dirt road toward Lindenvale.  

 As the gate to the village came into view, Nilfgaardian guards flanking it, Geralt slowed to avoid causing undue alarm.  As they reached the gate, he stopped, dismounting and offering Jaskier a hand down before nodding to the guards and leading Roach through the gate.   

 “You’ll be wanting to see the Alderman, Witcher.”  One of the guards called after them.  “Bad times afoot.” 

 Geralt looked over his shoulder and nodded sharply before continuing on.  

 “Damn freak.”  The other guard muttered, just loud enough for Geralt to hear.  

 “Shaddup! We can’t afford to refuse his help!” The first said, elbowing his mate.  

 Their bickering faded even from Geralt’s hearing as they continued deeper into the village seeking the Alderman.  As in most villages, the people they passed whispered and pointed at Geralt, fear and revulsion in their eyes.  But, unlike in most villages, that fear and revulsion was tempered with a grudging relief.  That edge of relief told Geralt just how bad the monster problem must have become for the average villager to feel that way about a Witcher. 

 Jaskier frowned as he picked up on the usual whispers.  He’d been doing his best to improve Geralt’s reputation through songs and stories, and this village clearly needed a dose of his best.  With as dire as the problem was rumored to be, the villagers should have been delighted to see Geralt, not barely tolerant.  Jaskier glanced over at Geralt, checking in but knowing any public display of concern would be unwanted.  As usual, Geralt’s face was impassive, seemingly unconcerned about the reception he received.  But after their years of travelling together, Jaskier could see the small lines of tension, the way his eyes lost their brightness, and vowed to do whatever he could to show people here, and everywhere, that the Geralt he knew was very different from the horror stories told to children about feral Witchers.  Far from stealing children in the night, his Witcher was a noble protector who would shield them from harm with his very life. 

 Within moments, they reached the Alderman’s house, a relatively large two room thatched hut in the center of the modest village.  Geralt tied Roach to the hitching post outside, giving her a pat and making sure the water in the trough was clean before approaching the entrance.   

 Outside the Alderman’s door, a large notice was posted, “Witcher needed!  Dangerous specters about!” it said in roughly scrawled letters, charcoal on an old linen cloth.  Geralt hummed as he looked at the notice, trailing his fingers over the frayed edges of the cloth.   

 “They must be desperate to ask for a Witcher.”  He said quietly.   

 “Don’t most contracts?”  Jaskier asked, confused by Geralt’s surprise. 

 “Hm.”  Geralt dropped his hand away from the notice.  “Not so explicitly.  People always hold out hope that someone else, someone human, can save them.  It’s why they’re always so disappointed when I show up.”  He said flatly, pushing open the Alderman’s door before Jaskier could respond to the layers of wrongness in that statement.  His heart clenched for Geralt, but he shoved the issue aside.  Now was not the time. 

 The Alderman jumped to his feet when they entered, startled by their sudden appearance.  The village accounting book was spread out on the table before him.  He was an older man, stooped by age, as most Alderman were, but his watery eyes were free of the usual distrust, and he greeted Geralt warmly. 

 “Ah, Witcher!”  He said, smiling broadly, “I’m so glad to see you!  Judging by your hair, you must be the famous White Wolf of Rivia!”  He thrust out his hand and vigorously shook Geralt’s. 

 Geralt blinked at him, taken aback by the rare welcome, hand trapped in the Alderman’s enthusiastic grip.  Jaskier grinned from behind him, pleased to see someone finally greeting Geralt properly. 

 “And you must be his bard!”  The Alderman dropped Geralt’s hand, grabbing Jaskier’s instead in both his frail hands.  “How wonderful to finally meet you both!” 

 Geralt was frozen, unsure of how to respond to such a warm, joyful greeting.  Was it a trap?  Was it genuine?  The indecision paralyzed him.  Jaskier saw Geralt’s discomfort and immediately stepped in, placing his other hand over the Alderman’s gnarled ones and smiling down at him. 

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well! You are correct, this is Geralt of Rivia and I am Jaskier, his humble, travelling bard.” Jaskier released the Alderman’s hands and bowed with a flourish. 

 The Alderman beamed, displaying the deep smile lines around his aging eyes.   

 “How delightful!”  He clasped his hands in front of his chest.  “I’ve heard your songs, Bard, but I never dreamed to have the chance to meet either you or your famous subject!”  The Alderman sighed happily, simply staring at Geralt and Jaskier, grinning.   

 After a moment, the Alderman came back to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it.  “My wife will be so jealous she missed you!  Her sister is unwell, so she’s off caring for her, you know.” 

 Jaskier could barely contain himself from cooing over the adorable old man.  It was always nice to meet a true fan.   

 Geralt had no idea how to react.  He’d never been faced with such naked admiration, with someone so genuinely chuffed to see him.  He wasn’t sure if he should feel pleased or alarmed, so he fell back on the set pattern of picking up a contract from an Alderman. 

 “I hear you have a contract for me, Alderman.” He said, attempting to direct the Alderman back onto familiar footing. 

 The Alderman clapped his hands together decisively.  “Quite right, quite right.”  He shuffled over to the desk and pulled out a piece of thick parchment.  “Right here, Master Geralt.”  He said, handing it over. 

 Geralt eyes widened, shocked again by this diminutive man who treated him like a favorite friend.  He’d never been called “Master Geralt” in all his long life, that courtesy, that familiarity reserved only for humans, not mutants.  The closest he’d ever heard was “Master Witcher”, but that was always said with a note of disdain, making it clear the nominal respect afforded by that title would only be extended as long as Geralt made himself useful.  It was the rare person who even called him by name.   

 Geralt forced himself back to the present moment, relying on his training to carry him through the interaction with this perplexing man.  He took the contract and read it over carefully, Jaskier looking over his shoulder.  It was a dispatch from the Nilfgaardian Army, given to the Alderman to execute.  It described a vague threat in the swamps, lights in the fog, travelers led astray to their deaths in the muddy water, large parties of people and horses ripped apart.  It was breaking down supply lines and must be stopped, the contract said.  The pay was appropriately generous for such a vague and dangerous assignment.   

 Geralt hummed over the words, considering them carefully.  “Sounds like foglets,” he said after a moment.  “Nasty bastards.”  He folded the contract and placed it in his pocket.  “I’ll get to it now before nightfall.”  He nodded to the Alderman and turned to leave.  Jaskier reached out to shake the old man’s hand. 

 “Wait!”  The Alderman said.   

 Geralt turned back, raising an eyebrow.   

 “You’ll need a place to stay for the night.  There are no inns here, but I have a small hut on the ridge overlooking the village.  I used to use it as a hunting base, but I’m far too old for that now.”  He said as he rummaged through his desk drawer, finally pulling out a large, rusted key.  “Here we are, take this.” He handed over the key.  “If you go to the village gate and look eastward and up, you’ll see it on the ridgeline.  I’ll send one of the boys to stock it with food, water, and firewood for you now so it’s ready when you return.” 

 Geralt handed the key to Jaskier, who placed it safely in the inner pocket of his light blue doublet.  “Thank you, my dear sir!”  Jaskier said brightly.  “Shelter for the night is always much appreciated!” 

 The Alderman smiled at him.  “It’s the least I can do, my boy.  We’ve no inn and I’m full up with visitors already or I’d offer you lodging here with me. You see, the Nilfgaardians are supposed to be putting on some sort of fire and light show on the lake over yonder tonight, something to cheer us up, I suppose, and folk have come from all over to see it.” 

 “A fire and light show?”  Jaskier asked. 

 “Aye, Bard.”  The Alderman shrugged.  “Not sure what they mean by it, but I suppose we’ll all find out.”  He sighed, stress showing on his face for the first time.  “If they really wanted to cheer us, we’d rather they lower the tithes than give us a light show.  It’s been a hard enough year without them taking our grain stores for the Army.” He shook his head at the thought, before smiling up at Geralt.  “But at least they gave us the coin to hire you, brave Witcher!  Once those devils are gone from the swamp, we’ll be able to forage safely again and that will be a great boon.” 

 Geralt gave him a firm nod.  “I can’t change the taxes, but I will clear the foglets from your swamp, Alderman.”  

 The Alderman dropped into a deep bow.  “May the Gods bless and protect you, Master Geralt.” 

 Geralt felt utterly stunned.  He had no idea how to react to this open gratitude, this deep respect, so he kept his focus on the job.  “I’ll return when I’ve completed the contract.”  He said, bewilderment coloring his voice, before striding out the door.  Tasks and hunts he understood, this unusual old man he did not.   

 Jaskier watched him go before placing a hand on the Alderman’s bowed shoulder.  “Thank you, Alderman.”  He said, feeling a gratitude so deep it almost hurt.   

 The Alderman straightened up.  “Whatever for, dear boy?” 

 “For treating him kindly.”  Jaskier smiled sadly, looking out at Geralt unhitching Roach and checking the fastenings on her tack. “He’s always used to deal with people’s problems, but no one ever thanks him for it.” 

 The Alderman sighed deeply.  “Aye, Bard.  I know the Witcher’s plight.  One came to our village when I was but a child, not Master Geralt, a different one, older.  He took care of a pack of drowners that had killed several of us, but the elders ran him back out of town as soon as he collected his payment, didn’t even let him stop to rest.”  The Alderman was lost in the memory, face pinched in remembered regret.  “I think he was wounded, too.  But he didn’t object, just took the coin and left.  I couldn’t do anything about it then, but I promised myself that if I ever saw a Witcher again, I would thank him.  Even if he didn’t do anything for me, I would thank him for what he did for our world.” 

 Jaskier placed a hand on his heart and bowed slightly to the Alderman.  “You are a rare soul, Alderman.  I only wish there were more like you on the Path.”  They shared a look of understanding before Jaskier followed Geralt out the door. 

  _________________________________________________________

  Geralt and Jaskier found the Alderman’s hut right where he said it would be, high on the eastern ridgeline over the village with an unobstructed view of the lake below.  Geralt tied Roach to the hitching line outside, leaving her with ample room to graze and filling her trough with fresh water from the nearby stream before untacking her and bringing their packs inside. 

 The hut was small, but well kept.  The Alderman’s boy hadn’t arrived yet with the provisions, but Jaskier went through the usual motions of settling in, laying out their bedrolls by the cold hearth as Geralt buckled on his armor.   

 Finished, Jaskier moved to help Geralt with his armor, securing buckles and checking to make everything was perfectly in place.  “So, what’s the story with foglets?”  He asked, “I haven’t seen you fight those before.” 

 Geralt hummed as he turned to his alchemy bag, armor in place.  He selected a bottle of necrophage oil and sat with his silver sword, rubbing the oil carefully into the blade.  “Nasty things.”  He said finally.  “Hunt in packs.  They can create a cover of fog and use it to lure travelers off the path by flashing a light.”   

 Jaskier sat back on his bedroll, watching Geralt.  “My mother did always say to never follow a light in the fog.” 

 “She was right.”  Geralt said, finishing with the oil and sheathing his sword.  “They’re tricksters.  They can appear and disappear at will, and they like to make copies of themselves.  The copies can’t do much damage, but the distraction is dangerous enough.”   

 Geralt selected three bottles from his store of Witcher potions: Cat, for vision, Swallow, for health, and Thunderbolt, for attack.  “Fucking hate them.”  He muttered, tucking the three bottles carefully away.  The deep scar on his left side ached.  Foglet’s claws cut deep. 

 Jaskier saw the tension in Geralt’s face, knowing those three potions meant Geralt expected a tough fight.  “How can I help?”  He asked. 

 “Stay here.”  Geralt said simply, strapping the swords to his back.  Jaskier immediately moved to object, but Geralt stopped him with a sharp glance. “I can’t fight them fully if I’m worried about keeping track of you in the fog.” 

 Jaskier frowned, but relented.  “Fine, but I’m coming to look for you if you’re gone too long.”   

 Geralt shook his head firmly.  “No, it’s too dangerous.  I don’t know how many there are or how long this will take.  I have to know you’re safely away.”  Geralt sighed, softening his tone as he looked at Jaskier’s mulish expression.   “I appreciate the concern, but Foglets are dangerous, and I can’t afford to stop and question whether the movement in the fog is friend or foe.”  The thought of striking Jaskier, even unwittingly, made Geralt’s blood run cold. 

 Some of that imagined horror must have shown on his face, because Jaskier gave in, accepting the logic offered.  “All right, but I’ll have bandages and food waiting for you when you get back.  I don’t think there’s a bath here, but I’ll heat some water for washing.” 

 Geralt offered a small smile.  The thought of a warm return bolstering his courage.  It was a dangerous thing to rely upon, but Jaskier had proved a constant all these years, and Geralt was finally starting to believe he might stay, might continue to offer Geralt his exceptional care and companionship.  “Might need some White Honey too, for the toxicity.”  He said, “it’s the white bottle in my bag.” 

 Jaskier blinked up at him, startled that Geralt would offer him access to his potion stores.  He never had before, and the directive was a display of trust.  A smile bloomed across Jaskier’s face.  “I’ll have it ready for you.”  

 Geralt nodded, offering Jaskier one more small smile before heading off down toward the swamp, the mid-afternoon sun lighting his way. 

  __________________________________________________

  Geralt stood knee deep in muddy swamp water, sword raised in a defensive hold as he strained his eyes, scanning the deep fog for any signs of movement.  The bodies of six Foglets already littered the ground, but he had tracked at least three more in the dense, unnatural fog surrounding him.   Adrenaline thrummed through him, muscles poised to explode at the slightest sign of movement.  Blood dripped from a deep cut on his shoulder where a Foglet’s claw had made it past his defenses.  He’d been fighting for hours, chasing the Foglets around the vast swamp, pushing them hard to force them to retreat to their nest so he could find it and destroy it. 

 As dusk fell, visibility dropped and Geralt quickly tossed back the Cat potion with his free hand.  Adding that to the Swallow and Thunderbolt already in his system sent a painful wave of nausea through him as his blood toxicity reached dangerous levels.  His eyes flooded black, skin paling as the delicate veins under his eyes darkened, clearly visible through his near-transparent skin.  The pale skin came as a result of his body concentrating blood on his heart and liver, keeping him alive at the expense of his extremities and causing a head rush that would be fatal unless Geralt could keep himself under control.  Geralt’s head swam briefly, sword tip wavering, before his training kicked in, his body sublimating the pain and the vertigo to steady his sword arm and sharpen his concentration. 

 Cat allowed him to see through the dark as if it were high noon, pupils blown out to capture as much light as possible.  This heightened sensitivity made the Foglets’ bursts of light stand out like a beacon through the thick fog. 

 Geralt caught sight of a burst of light on his right side and spun, sword raised to parry the Foglet’s long, sharp claw, feet planted firmly beneath him.  He caught the Foglet’s claw on his silver blade, rocking back in his stance to absorb the force of the blow before lunging forward, throwing the Foglet to the ground and stabbing his silver sword through its heart. 

 Another burst of light appeared on his left, too close for him to raise his sword in time, but Geralt ducked under the swipe and rolled away, pulling his sword with him, jumping back to his feet just in time to spin out of the way of the Foglet’s follow up charge, dealing a fatal blow to the Foglet’s back as it flashed past him. 

 Swamp water streaming into his eyes, head spinning from the toxins and the acrobatic moves, he took a harsh breath in and out, forcing his muscles to still and he waited, straining all his senses for the third, and hopefully final, Foglet.  They had stopped running, so the nest must be close.   

 He heard a chatter behind him, whirling around just as a Foglet’s false double bashed into him, throwing him off balance.  Knowing the real Foglet would be nearby, he cast the sign of Quen as he stumbled back.  Before he could regain his footing, the real Foglet struck, claws slashing across Geralt’s exposed back.  The Quen shield protected Geralt from most of the damage, exploding outward and throwing the Foglet back.  Geralt gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of him.  He heard a splash to his left and quickly cast the sign of Aard, hoping his aim would be true.   

 The Foglet screeched as it was knocked back into a tree, propelled by the powerful blast.  Geralt forced himself to lunge forward, breathless still, and thrust his sword into the Foglet’s heart, pinning it to the tree.  The double disappeared.  

 Geralt panted, leaning on his sword, swamp water and blood dripping into his blown-out eyes.  His muscles ached.  His head swam.  His blood burned in his veins.  With sheer will, Geralt straightened, pulling his sword back out of the Foglet and the tree with a push from his foot on the trunk.  The thought that he’d have to sharpen his sword later flitted through his mind.   

 Geralt strained his ears and eyes into the fog, searching for any sign of additional Foglets.  After several long moments of silence and stillness, Geralt relaxed his stance, sheathing his sword.  He pulled out his dagger and set to work harvesting the Foglet corpses.  With the valuable parts safely retrieved, Geralt pulled his steel sword (no need to risk further damage to the valuable silver blade) and swiftly decapitated the corpses, stuffing the heads into the thin sack he’d brought with him.  Harvest completed, he picked up the sack and moved to the next task.  

 With the death of the last Foglet, the unnatural fog had slowly dissipated.  With his eyes enhanced by Cat, Geralt could easily see through the darkness to the Foglet’s nest.  Hefting a small bomb, he strode toward the nest, lobbing the bomb into its center from a safe distance.  After the bomb discharged, sending wooden shrapnel and dank swamp water through the air, coating Geralt yet again, he carefully inspected the site to ensure no piece remained that might host another Foglet.   

 Satisfied, he hefted the bag of heads and began the slow trek back to the Alderman.  Fortunately, despite all the running about in the swamp, the nest wasn’t far from the village.  Geralt knew the walk wouldn’t take long, barely half an hour, but he felt as if he were wading through thick molasses, exhaustion weighing him down even as the potions burning through him caused his limbs to shake with the need to move.  Geralt’s eyes ached and his head felt disconnected from his body, blood still concentrated in his overworked liver and heart as his body attempted to process the toxic potions. His left shoulder burned from the deep cut, blood coating his armor.  He desired nothing more than to collapse on the ground and sleep. 

 But he was used to ignoring his body’s demands and continued to place one foot in front of the other, hoping the deathly pallor and black veins would ease before he returned to the village.  The Alderman had been uncommonly amenable to his presence, but showing up looking as monstrous as he did now would surely put an end to that.   

 Geralt thought of Jaskier waiting for him as he trudged along, warm dinner and clean bandages at the ready.  It was enough to invigorate him and he stood a bit straighter, stride lengthening as he caught sight of the village gate.   

 Seeking to avoid causing alarm, Geralt waded through the swamp and entered the village by hopping over the Alderman’s back garden gate.  Dropping the heads well away from the house, he rubbed at his face to remove the worst of the blood, and knocked on the back door.   

 As the door opened, Geralt braced himself for the usual shock and vitriol his post-battle appearance caused, knowing he looked no better than the Foglets with his black eyes and white skin, soaked in blood, viscera, and swamp water, but the Alderman again surprised him.   

 The Alderman smiled broadly, no hint of hesitation in his face.  “Welcome back, Master Geralt!”  He said warmly.  “Are you well?” 

 Geralt averted his eyes from the bright lights behind the Alderman, pupils still too blown out from the Cat to tolerate anything but darkness. He said gruffly, to the wall.  “The hunt is complete.  It was a Foglet nest.  I eliminated it.”  He gestured to the sack.  “The heads are there as proof.” 

 The Alderman must have realized Geralt’s discomfort, because he stepped forward, closing the door behind him and leaving them in darkness.  Geralt quickly yielded, stepping back to give him room.  He didn’t understand the odd, tight expression on the Alderman’s face when he did that.  It almost seemed sad, but that couldn’t be right.  His head ached too much to give it any more thought. 

 “You’re a treasure, Master Geralt.  Thank you for saving our vilage.”  The Alderman said, bowing deeply to Geralt again. 

 Geralt had no idea how to react, so he didn’t. 

 The Alderman straightened and smiled, holding out a bag heavy with coin.  “Your coin, Master Geralt, plus a little extra from the village fund to express our gratitude.” 

 Geralt took the bag, tucking it away.  Still looking down, he thanked the Alderman, unsure how to react to his generosity or his kindness.  It made him vaguely uncomfortable, but he didn’t know why.  

 Geralt nodded to the Alderman before turning back toward the back fence.   

 “Be safe, Master Geralt, and go with our thanks.”  The Alderman called after him.   

 Geralt looked briefly back over his shoulder, blackened eyes pits in the darkness, before raising a hand in acknowledgment and hopping over the fence. 

  ____________________________________________

  It was full dark by the time Geralt returned to the small hut.  Exhaustion made his legs shake beneath him as he climbed up to the door.  His head pounded, any speck of light sending a sharp pain shooting through his eyes.  The toxins in his blood caused fever to burn through him.  It took an extraordinary exercise of will to keep his spent body moving. 

 Jaskier must have been watching out for him, because the door opened before he could touch the handle, and Jaskier was immediately there to support him, slinging Geralt’s uninjured right arm over his shoulders.  Geralt squeezed his eyes shut against the firelight in the room, dim as it was, and trusted Jaskier to lead him. 

 Jaskier led him to the corner by the roaring hearth where a basin of steaming water was waiting, delicately scented with chamomile oil.  Jaskier pressed gently on Geralt’s hale right shoulder, urging him to sit on the small stool he’d set out.   

 As soon as Geralt was settled, Jaskier pressed the vial of White Honey into his hand, knowing that the black veins he could see under Geralt’s closed eyes meant his toxicity level needed to be brought down as soon as possible.  Geralt took the vial and swallowed down without even looking at it.  Despite his concern for Geralt’s state, the trust inherent in that gesture warmed Jaskier through. 

 Geralt grit his teeth as the potion hit his stomach, curling in on himself with a breathy whine as the White Honey seared through his veins, neutralizing the Cat, Swallow, and Thunderbolt with brutal efficiency.  Just as rapidly as it came on, the searing pain stopped, and Geralt gasped at the abrupt change.  His awareness narrowed to a point and an intense feeling of vertigo overcame him as he clung desperately to consciousness. 

 His heart raced in his chest, breaths coming in labored pants, as he slowly came back to awareness of his surroundings, breathing in the comforting scent of rosin and honey emanating from Jaskier’s shoulder where it supported his aching head.  Jaskier’s strong hands rubbed gently down Geralt’s back as he shook through the comedown off the toxic high. 

 Even a year ago he would have pulled away at this point, ashamed to need the support, but Jaskier had worn down his resistance with his steadfast companionship.  Geralt let out a sigh and relaxed into Jaskier’s hold.  Jaskier would decide to leave him one day, everyone did, if they ever stayed at all, but Geralt would allow himself this indulgence of care until that day came. 

 They sat together for several long moments, Geralt’s breathing and heart rate returning to normal as Jaskier supported him.  When Jaskier felt Geralt relax completely, he sat back, keeping one hand on Geralt’s knee, and reached for the warm basin.  He dipped a soft cloth in the warm, scented water and carefully rubbed the blood, viscera, and swamp water from Geralt’s face and neck.  The water was black by the time he finished. 

 “Geralt?”  Jaskier prodded, “are you all right if I go refill the basin?” 

 Geralt nodded, reaching up to unbuckle his armor.   

 “All right, but call me the moment you need something.  And keep those eyes closed!  I can’t smother the fire until I’ve finished with the water, so we’ll have to work around it until we can make it dark enough for you in here.”  Jaskier instructed firmly before heading out to dump and refill the basin. 

 Geralt’s hands were frozen on his armor.  He hadn’t realized Jaskier had taken notice of how long it took for his eyes to return to normal after he used Cat.  Usually, after White Honey got rid of the worst of it, he’d just push through the pain until his pupils started to adjust properly to the light again.   

 He shook himself and went back to his task.  Jaskier’s thoughtfulness would never cease surprising him both in its breadth and in its application to one such as him.   

 Having completely removed his armor, laying it out by feel away from the fire, Geralt chanced opening his eyes briefly to examine the damage done to it by the water and the fight.  Squinting against the light, he mentally catalogued the repairs and maintenance he’d need to complete before the armor was ready to use again.  As he looked, the pounding in his head increased steadily until the intensity made him sway where he sat as nausea flooded him again. 

 Jaskier walked in just as Geralt slammed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands to them in an attempt to ease the agony.   

 “Geralt!”  He said, concern sharpening his tone.  He quickly placed the refilled basin over the fire and grabbed a clean cloth.  Gently pulling Geralt’s hands away from his face, he tied the cloth firmly around Geralt’s eyes, blocking all light.  Jaskier smoothed the cloth with his hands and pressed a gentle kiss over the fabric.   

 “Let me be your eyes for now, dear one.”  He said, tone as gentle as it was commanding.  Geralt startled at the kiss, covered eyes following Jaskier by sound.  No one had ever done that before.  Whores would never kiss him, they would barely consent to lay with him even for the premium he paid, and the few experiences he’d had where coin had not been required had been quick and impersonal.  It seemed there was no end to Jaskier’s undeserved benedictions. 

 “I can hear you thinking, Geralt.”  Jaskier said wryly.  “Tell me what about while I look at the mess you made of your shoulder.” 

 Geralt wordlessly pulled his bloodied and torn tunic over his head, dropping to the side of the stool to wash and mend later.  He sat quietly while Jaskier wiped the blood and gore off his chest, paying careful attention to the wound on his left shoulder, working away while he waited patiently for Geralt to gather his thoughts.  

 Once Geralt’s chest was clean and the shoulder wound carefully flushed out, Jaskier rummaged through the pack containing their medical supplies, pulled out a soothing poultice and wrapped it around Geralt’s shoulder.  The wound, while painful, was not terribly deep and thankfully did not require stiches.  With a Witcher’s metabolism and healing power, it would be mere scar by the end of the next day.  Satisfied that the wound would heal well without further intervention, Jaskier began wiping down Geralt’s hair, pulling out the worst of the detritus and blood.   

 “You’ll need a real bath, or at least a stream, to get this totally clean, but I’ll do my best.”  Jaskier said as he worked.   

 While Jaskier worked on his hair, Geralt pulled off his sodden boots and pants, leaving himself only in his small clothes, and held out a hand for a cloth.  One was immediately provided, and he started wiping down his legs and feet.  It felt hopelessly indulgent to have Jaskier help him like this, but Geralt was starting to believe, just a little, that Jaskier did not see helping him as a burden. 

 When he felt he’d gotten off the bulk of the swamp water and blood, he dropped the soiled cloth on top of his tunic and pants for washing.  He took a fortifying breath, choosing his words carefully.  “You always care for me so gently,” he said, sounding almost lost.  “Why?” 

 Jaskier’s hands stilled in Geralt’s hair before pulling away.  For a brief, terrible moment, Geralt felt as if he’d said exactly the wrong thing, exactly the thing that would finally wake him from this dream and send Jaskier running away.  His breath stilled in his chest as cold pain gripped him.   

 He must have made some unwitting noise of distress, because Jaskier was there immediately to soothe him, embracing him from behind and nuzzling into the nape of his neck, mindless of the filth that still clung to him. 

 “My dearest friend, after all these years, you must know that you are the most important person in my life and that my greatest pleasure is to see you cared for and happy.” Jaskier tightened his embrace, pulling himself flush with Geralt’s broad back.  “I want nothing more than to show you how much I care for you, and I hope one day you’ll believe it.” 

 Geralt raised his arms and covered Jaskier’s as much as he could, given the angle of the embrace, squeezing his hands on Jaskier’s bare forearms.  He opened his mouth to speak, lost his words, and fell silent.  He felt Jaskier’s warmth against his back, his hot breath against his neck, and felt safe in a way he’d never felt before.  His voice unlocking, he said, “I’m starting to.”   

 He felt Jaskier’s smile and his embrace tightened once more.  Jaskier placed a fleeting kiss to the side of Geralt’s neck before stepping back and returning to his task, careful not to jostle the cloth protecting Geralt’s eyes as he worked the battle’s detritus out of Geralt’s hair. 

 The silence between them was soft and comfortable, and Geralt felt himself drifting.  After a long moment, the silence was broken suddenly by a loud boom from the direction of the lake.  Geralt startled badly, thrown out of his peaceful doze, and jumped to his feet, eyes darting behind the blindfold as he sought the source of the unnatural noise.   

 Jaskier ran to the door and thrust it open, peering into the night.  Another boom and Geralt spun toward the source of the noise, a snarl rising in his throat.  He was startled out of his battle stance when Jaskier laughed with unrestrained delight.  

 “A fire and light show!” He said, smile evident in his voice.  “They meant fireworks!” 

 Geralt relaxed immediately.  He’d never seen fireworks before, just heard of the new invention in passing, but if Jaskier was unconcerned, then he was unconcerned.  He felt around the packs for his own, pulling out a fresh tunic and pants and putting them on before joining Jaskier at the door.   

 He peered out into the night, seeing nothing through the blindfold, but he listened to the booms and Jaskier’s exclamations of joy and wonder.  Geralt wanted to resume their closeness from before, but wasn’t certain he would be allowed.  He swallowed hard and gathered his courage.  Not even daring to breathe, he gently placed his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders from behind, moving to embrace him completely when Jaskier let out a happy sigh at the contact.  When Jaskier leaned back into him, Geralt let out a sigh of relief, relaxing into the contact and resting his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder.   

 Jaskier huffed a laugh at his big sigh and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple.  “I enjoy your touch, dear one, no need to be nervous.” 

 “But you’ve never done that before.”  Geralt said, meaning the embrace, a note of awed confusion in his voice, like he’d been given a great treat he couldn’t possibly deserve.   

 Jaskier knew that a heavy discussion would be too much for Geralt, who struggled to express himself at the best of times.  Asking him to have an emotional talk while exhausted and hurting would be unfair.  Besides, his actions spoke louder than he ever could. 

 Jaskier kept his tone purposefully light and affectionate.  “Then we’ll simply have to make up for lost time.” 

 Geralt hummed and fell silent.  He didn’t understand why Jaskier would want to touch him, let alone want any sort of physical affection from him.  Geralt had no prior experience with gentle, affectionate touch to guide him, but if he mirrored Jaskier’s gestures and stayed within those boundaries, he thought it might be all right to try and reciprocate what Jaskier offered.  He’d matched Jaskier’s embrace from moments before and that had been well received.  Maybe he didn’t need to understand it.  Maybe he could just follow Jaskier’s lead and enjoy whatever Jaskier was willing to give.  He still felt a pull in his gut telling him it was selfish, it was improper, that there was no way Jaskier truly wanted to care for him, much less touch him, but years of Jaskier’s steady affection had muffled that pull.   

 As he stood quietly, listening to the booms of the fireworks and Jaskier’s delighted reactions, he decided to chance one more request.  “Will you describe them for me?”  He asked quietly.   

 Jaskier beamed, leaning his head into Geralt’s and letting him feel the smile that lit up his face at the simple request.  “It would be my pleasure.”   

 And so, they stood there in the doorway of the simple hut, Jaskier held in Geralt’s warm embrace, Geralt’s chin tucked over Jaskier’s shoulder, listening as Jaskier described the colors that burst and danced across the sky. 

 Warmth filled Geralt’s chest and this time he was certain it was joy. 

  REQUESTED TAGS FOR UPDATES: @thesunshinemanman @animaniac1017

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Please

You got it, Darling! *finger guns* I don’t do readers, hope you don’t mind! Warnings of kidnapping, smexy times, drug use (forced and self indulgent), Stockholm Syndrome(beginning stages), the basics for yandere stuff dears, ye have been warned.

Yandere! Takami Keigo (Hawks) / Original Female Character

Playlist - Finneas Station (Pandora) 

Name: Higurashi Ruri ~ Birthday: December 15th ~ Age: 20 ~ Hair Color: Pink ~ Eye Color: Brown ~ Gender: Female ~ Height: 4′ 6′’ ~ Quirk: Peryton*

Appearance: Ruri is a short girl of slender yet feminine build. She is fair-skinned with a perpetual blush on her cheeks. The blush, paired with her fair skin has made more than one person suspect she has been drinking, even when she is stone cold sober. Her eyes are large and round, their irises an ashy brown with oval pupils and rather thick upper eyelashes. Her hair is cut just above her shoulders, bobbed and curved inward with short bangs that lay straight across her forehead, and is the same shade as her eyes, Because of her Quirk, Ruri has two large deer-like antlers that grow from either side of her head, which bloom the same flowers that come from an Eastern Redbud tree. From her back emerge two wings, only 5 and a half foot from tip to tip, with thick, glossy, ashy brown feathers. ~ Ruri nearly always wears long flowing or tiered skirts paired with peasant blouses and lacy tanks. She commonly adds wood jewelry, fringed handbags, and jeweled or embellished flat sandals (or flat ankle boots) to complete her look of the day. Her most distinctive feature is her layered and colorful clothes, as many have described her as looking ‘washed out’.

Quirk: Peryton* ~ Ruri’s quirk, Peryton, caused her to develop her antlers shortly after her third birthday, although she was born with soft, downy wing stubs that grew and matured as she did. Physically, her Quirk grants her the ability to fly - her wings are not just for show! - but she does suffer from allergies that develop in the aftermath of the antlers atop her head blooming. Her Quirk had never truly have her the want to become a Hero and her parents, apothecaries, where more than happy to allow their daughter to follow whatever path she may chose. 

Power - 3/5 ~ Speed - 4/5 ~ Technique - 2/5 ~ Intelligence - 4/5 ~ Cooperativeness - 4/5

~Please~

~ The first time Hawks spotted the girl she was crossing the street, her long skirts billowing in the wind as she darted forward. It had been the two large antlers atop her head that had drawn his attention, their gleaming bone horn broken by the grown of large red flowers that seemed to release a fine cloud of glitter to the wind. And then she was gone into the crowd, her small frame swallowed. She became an obsession for him after that, and he became her shadow, although she never seemed to realize. He followed her to her job - a small sushi shop that offered amazing Miso soup - learned where she lived - a studio apartment based over a grocery shop - and quickly found the pattern to her schedule.

~ Months passed before Hawks spoke with the girl for the first time; she was running from a Villain causing a scene in the middle of one of the busiest shopping districts around Musutafu. She was sprinting through the crowd, antlers gleaming in the dim light of the setting sun, clearly looking for an escape when a scream cut through the noise, echoing across the shop windows until it seemed to ring through the air like a siren. Her eyes meet his for only a moment, a brief convergence of brown and gold, and then they found the little girl falling through the air, a look of pure terror on her small face. The villain had found her cowering under a shopfront table and slung her through the air in a fight of rage. Hawks knew he wasn’t close enough. He couldn’t make it. The little girl was going to fast, to far away, and she was going to hit the pavement beneath her - hard. But she never did. The girl was there, her ashy-brown feathers gleaming in the light like polished cedar as they beat against the air, the little girl clutched against her chest. She looked magnificent, like an avenging angel come down to lay waste to the foolish mortal before her, her eyebrows narrowed down into a positive glare as she viewed the villain and found him wanting.

~ That was all it took for Hawks to cross the distance between them and everything passed in a blur after. The villain was apprehended, the little girls’ parents were found, and the girl, Ruri, was under his wing, shaking.

~ She wasn’t a Hero, not even part of the police force. She saw a child in danger and . . . just couldn’t help herself. She had acted before thinking, and the second the adrenaline faded from her system she was a mess. Tears, although they would not fall, pooled against her lashes, and she couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Her teeth chattered as she tried to give her address to the sidekick on the scene, who was oh so kindly offered to escort her home safely, and she didn’t even think twice when Hawks stepped in and volunteered to do so instead. She was so innocent, so trusting, it was hard to believe she hadn’t been taken advantage of before. In the end, it wasn’t a hard decision to make - the ambulance had a syringe filled with droperidol and he only had to wait until they were a few blocks away before he slipped the needle into the flesh of her hip. She barely noticed, flinching only minutely and mumbling something along the lines of bugs and the summer being a killer. He didn’t drop his perfect smile as she began to stumble, didn’t bat an eyelash when she had to lean into his side for support, one of her antlers pressed against his chest as she tried to keep her balance.

~ “Hawks? I don’t - I don’t feel well. I think . . . I think somethings wrong.” Ruri murmured, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. She was stumbling, her feathers ruffling violently as she swayed. Something was wrong, wrong, scary wrong. Her legs felt numb and she couldn’t control her wings. Ruri felt giddy and unfocused. It was hard to catch a real breath and when she looked into Hawks eyes they appeared too clear, too gold. They looked fake. Then the vertigo hit. “Just a little further, darling. Just a little further and we’ll be at my home.” She didn’t even have a chance to scream before Hawks hand was across her mouth. He bundled her into his arms and look to the sky in a rush, a lopsided smile on his face. “Hush, babygirl. The only screams I want to hear from you are screams of pleasure.”

~ Everything had gone dark and when she woke she was dressed in a lacy nightgown that barely covered her curves. Hawks was above her, his chest bare and his wings fluttering gently as his fingers traced shapes across her translucent skin. “You were so brave babygirl. So brave. But you were silly, weren’t you? You can’t put yourself in danger like that. But you’ll be okay, won’t you. You’ll stay here now, and everything will be okay, won’t it?”

~ Ruri had known, even in the fog of the drugs coursing through her system, that it was very important that she answer. She barely knew this man. She knew of him, of course. Who wouldn’t recognize the Number Two Hero, Hawks? But why was he above her, looking down at her as if he expected an answer. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts, but gold eyes held her and though she wanted to close her eyes she couldn’t. His fingers were still on her skin, dipping beneath the silk that covered her breasts, the lace that sheltered her sex. There was a heat unfolding inside her, spreading from her chest, filling her with a trembling longing as he continued to touch, his mouth following after. The most she could do was blink slowly as her vision slowly focused on her feathered appendage stretched out beneath her. The feathers gleamed softly in the light of the lamp on the nightstand, each feather standing out in sharp contrast to the dim room until -

~ Ruri’s scream had cut through the air and startled Hawks so badly he had fallen from the bed, his wings jerking violently. For a moment Hawks thought that she was screaming at him, for him to stop, for someone to hear her, but then he realized - Ruri was screaming in horror at the sight of her clipped wings, each primary feather cut so they only sat a few inches below where they started. Her wings appeared short and stubby, misshapen in some drastic way, and Ruri knew they would not support her if she were to try to take to the sky.

~ In the end it wasn’t the last time Hawks felt the need to clip her wings. It happened again the first time she tried to escape, nearly three months into her captivity, and he did it painfully, pulling each feather out by it’s roots, causing their regrowth to be painful and long. The next had been the one and only time he had tried to force himself on her, and the resulting fight had left him with two black eyes and a split-lip that would crack any time he tried to smile in her direction for the next week. He hadn’t tried to do so again, and Ruri was thankful for that, even if it had enraged him to the point of raggedly clipping her left wing so that it appeared that she was molting. She had watched Keigo come and go, acting a hero all while she called him a monster behind closed doors. That had stopped quickly, too, because when he found that she felt brave during the times her wings were clipped he resorted to plucking her wings one feather at a time. He would catch her mid escape and do it to show that she would never, no matter how hard she tried, get away. He did it twice before she finally caved and began to use his real name - Takami Keigo. Three times before she would allow him to cuddle her as they sat on the couch together. Four before she stopped fighting him when he climbed into the bed with her, the last time he had ripped the feathers out by the handful, using his weight to hold her down as she thrashed and screamed below him. Over and over again, for months it happened until, finally, Ruri stopped fighting back.

~ “Are you okay darling?” Ruri startled at the sound of Keigo’s voice, so close to her ear. She hadn’t heard him enter, hadn’t heard his greeting she knew he must have given her. She felt as if she were floating, the weed she had smoked working through her system and making everything seem shiner, new, as if it were something to be amazed at. It was drawing her into the past, as well, she thought brokenly.

~  “You got into your stash?” Ruri giggled and shrugged her shoulders. The small stone pipe was sitting on the coffee table before her, as well as her grinder and small bag of weed that was, without a doubt, dwindling away to nothing. The answer seemed clear enough. Keigo smiled, eyeing her silently for a moment before he moved to walk away, whether to his room or to the kitchen, Ruri wasn’t sure but she suddenly, inexplicably didn’t want him to leave her side. She knew it wasn’t right, that she shouldn’t want her kidnapper anywhere near her, but she couldn’t help the flash of longing that flashed through her as he moved to walk away. “Please.”

~ Keigo froze. When he looked back to Ruri he found her leaning across the couch, her wings sprawled out behind her and her antlers, which had been barren since she had awoken inside his apartment, were showing signs of new growth - small leaves sprouted across their length, and there, along the tips, were small buds showing the beginning stages of red growth. Tentative, Keigo leaned forward, stretching out one hand, and before Ruri had time to consider her actions, she scooted forward. The smile that stretched across the Number Two Hero’s face as he ran his fingers through Ruri’s hair, mussing and then smoothing it down again, was brilliant. “Do you have any idea what day it is?”

~ Ruri paused, panic flushing through her system for a moment. Had she forgotten something important? His birthday? A holiday? Was it her birthday? She didn’t want to loose her feather - she had been so good. But Keigo seemed to understand the look of panic on her face, and he took pity on her because he leaned forward and whispered the answer against her lips. “It’s been one year since I brought you home with me darling. Our one year anniversary. My beautiful baby girl. Does that make you happy?”

~ “Yes.” Ruri answered without thinking, shivering with delight as Keigo’s hand stroked her cheek. “I missed you, you know.” Her eyes were unfocused, the lids half closed. One of her hands moved to cover his and she pressed it against her cheek. “Missed you, missed you, missed you.” Keigo wasn’t quite sure what to make of her actions but he didn’t want to risk loosing the moment. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

~ “I missed you too, baby girl. And who knows? Maybe if your good, we can go out this weekend? Would you like that darling? Would you like to go outside again? The snow has begun to fall and it’s beautiful outside. Just as beautiful as you. So beautiful . . .” Keigo’s words trailed away as he hugged Ruri closer to his chest. “My beautiful. Mine.” 

*The Peryton is a mythological hybrid animal combining the physical features of a stag and a bird (in Ruri’s case, I imagine her wings and bird like features to come from the Pink Robin, a small tubby bird native to Australia.). The Peryton was created and described by Jorge Luis Borges, in his book Book of Imaginary Beings, and he supposedly used a long-lost medieval manuscript as a source.

[baepsaetan]

Banner by @thebannershop​

Summary: In a futuristic age where a person can be coded and inserted into a new body, the rich can live forever. Born to a wealthy family, Jin expects to live life at a lofty and uncaring height. His expectations go awry when his body is murdered and a small gang steals his ‘stack’ and resleeves him in a criminal. Thrust into a gritty, neon world far below his life as an immortal, where death can be Real, Jin will discover truths that challenge his perceptions and make him wonder what - if anything - immortality is worth.

Chapters: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt.5, pt. 6, pt. 7

Genre: Altered Carbon Fusion, Science Fiction/Futuristic, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Murder Mystery

Warnings: Shifting PoVs (primarily Jin), minor character death, abuse, torture, gangs, drug addiction, drug use, references to depression, body dysphoria, animal death, swearing, smut in future chapters

Length: 7.4k

//

The gang he’s been kidnapped by apparently doesn’t own – or at least use – a car, not even a terrain-exclusive one, and they set off on foot from the little apartment complex the men live in. He doesn’t know what time it is, and the sky’s too clouded to give much of an indication, but it’s too light to be night. Mid-afternoon, maybe? There are a fair few people out, and they wind through a series of side streets, cutting by buildings that are tall but also sagging, as if the weight of keeping themselves and their hundreds of thousands of inhabitants upright for half a century or so is becoming too much. Jin considers running, or calling for help, but Jungkook had none-too-subtly shown him the pistol he’s carrying before they’d left, and he hasn’t put it away, either. Besides, when they break through the side roads into what seems to be a main street, Seokjin has other things to think about.

He’s lived in Triptych all his life, but it might be more accurate to say he’s lived in Glass Harbour, instead. The neighbourhood – built in the ocean a short way from Triptych’s shoreline – is of course isolated from the rest of the city, but Seokjin has never realized just how removed he’s been, too. He’s been outside of Glass Harbour plenty of times – even been to the Curve, where they clearly are, given the general disrepair and the lack of multileveled streets – but never without at least several guards and a friend or two, and never really on the streets, either. His family owns several hovercars that simply coast up to whatever place he wants to go; walking the pavement is for the poor.

Triptych is a sprawling city of towering steel and glass buildings, shining pathways of cable and artificial stone arching across various levels, letting citizens walk in the sky as they move through their lives. Far younger than the Bay Area, it is a city of technological advancement and drive, of lights and steel and laws written by a Meth chequebook.

The Curve is an exception to that rule. In the early days of its inception, Triptych had been built on what was essentially two hills, with a deep cleft between the pair. That inconvenience was offset by the location – close to the shore, and, more important for the three Meth families who founded the city, perfectly situated next to a wide ocean shelf on which they could begin to build their Glass Harbour. As the city grew, all soaring heights and chrome exteriors, the gap between the two hills was overwhelmed by the buildings going up on all sides. A deep dip in the urban landscape, it received less sunlight and fresh air than neighbouring districts, and so was forgotten by the Meths who poured money into construction and maintenance.

In a city devoted to worshipping the future, the Curve is a neighbourhood left in the past. There are no networks of raised walkways to direct people through the area. Everyone too poor to move elsewhere operates on one level: the ground.

And there are apparently plenty of those people. The trek through the narrow, pitted roads, Namjoon ahead and Jungkook behind, has revealed more citizens than Jin was even aware lived in Triptych. They have to push through several crowds, hassled people in impatient groups shuffling outside a building or at a transit stop, waiting for things and headed for places he can’t conceive. Even though it’s raining, a miserable shower that sinks straight through his sweater and makes things worse, almost no one has an umbrella, or even a hood. They just accept the rain.

In the same passive way, they accept the haze smearing across neon-bright signs set up far above their heads, the pollution distorting ads for any number of cheap looking products, most of which Seokjin can’t guess the purpose of. Everyone walks quickly, eyes down or on their companions, and accepts – or ignores, it is hard to see a difference – the constant noise of the advertisements. The disembodied voices fall down from the signs and the smog like the conversations of chain-smoking angels, never quite fully understood, too distorted to catch.

“Get a… Won’t regret the…”

“…seat in the back and…”

“…like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Buy now!”

The noise and lights and people crash over Seokjin with a weight that feels more physical than mental, and he guesses these people can’t even afford neural implants or ONIs. That must be why all of the ads are out in the open instead of transmitting into the ocular displays of specific consumers, targeted based on purchasing history and tendencies. He’s only experienced op ads once – no business would dare bother a Meth without permission, and he’d just tried it for fun, at Taehyung’s suggestion – but even that hectic mess of visual heckling had been less overwhelming than the blaring sounds and sights assaulting him now.

And then there’s the sheer struggle of getting where they need to be. Jin actually finds himself grateful for Namjoon. The pink haired man seems to have no issue cutting through the crowds, and, deliberately or otherwise, usually clears enough space for Jin to get through in the process. A few times it isn’t quite enough, and, unused to the broad-shouldered sleeve, Jin jostles against a passerby or two – with irritated responses – but without Namjoon, he probably would have drowned trying to get just a few steps, let alone miles.

When they finally slow, approaching the mouth of an alley off the main street, Jin’s feet are aching. The once white sneakers they gave him have seen better days, and they’re even worse now than when he put them on more than an hour ago; it feels like the three of them walked through enough trash and mud to build a small mountain on the way here, and his shoes reflect that. Namjoon and Jungkook had been oblivious, but he’d spent most of the trip trying (and failing) to navigate puddles, wrappers, cigarette butts and things he couldn’t identify and didn’t want to.            

That, coupled with Jungkook almost literally breathing down his neck the entire time, gun in hand, and snickering whenever Jin slipped or winced or hesitated, has put him in a mood that could only charitably be called bad.

There’s also the whole being kidnapped and forced to return to the spot of his death thing.

“Will you stop that?” he demands when a foot knocks painfully against his heel for the umpteenth time, whipping around to glare at the (presumably) younger man. Jungkook puffs out his cheeks and smiles, a small overbite becoming evident with the little grin, and the innocent expression is infuriating.

No Meth would ever leave a defect like an overbite alone. So far as Seokjin is concerned, it screams poverty. And this drudge had the nerve to kick him! Repeatedly! And grin about it!

If the irritation boiling under his skin is any indication, he’s probably turning an unattractive shade of red, but before Seokjin can make what might be described as a mistake and take a swing at Jungkook, Namjoon intervenes. “Leave him alone, Kookie,” he orders. “Go watch the entrance, make sure no one’s going to start anything.”

Jin is dismally certain that the chances of that are low. He’d tried making eye contact with anyone even remotely respectable in appearance on their way here, some half-baked notion of escape in his head, but very few people even looked at him. Those that did were quick to look away, and he hadn’t been able to tell if that was the fault of the intimidating sleeve he’d been stuck in, or Jungkook looming over his shoulder and scowling, or something else altogether. Regardless, the small number of passersby who happen to glance into the alley all suddenly remember important engagements elsewhere and rush off, leaving Jin stranded.

Better to just bide his time. Or something that sounds similarly calm and planned and definitely not freaking out.

“So,” he says, looking around the alley, and falls silent. It’s certainly not a glamorous spot to die in, or even breathe in. Jin literally can’t imagine why he would have been here. There’s dirt and garbage on the ground, like a carpet of very dubious design that releases an odor he suspects hints at the more disgusting uses this alley has been put to. A bunch of graffiti is scrawled on the walls, senseless black and red scribbles splattered across the bricks like blood and ichor. Someone even rigged up a holographic bit of disruption, a horrifyingly grotesque man, rail thin and warped, who flickers into being (and scares the hell out of Jin) when they get close enough to activate its sensors. The image is deteriorating, pixels missing here and there, and the whole figure wavers in and out of existence erratically. However, that doesn’t stop the holographic from going through a series of obscene gestures, the least of which is giving viewers the finger.

Namjoon is staring at the wavering vandalism. “Do you know,” he asks suddenly, “how hard those are to make?”

“Ah…” The random question takes Jin off guard, and besides, graphics have never been one of his interests.

“It’s hard. Not if you have a computer program to do it all for you, but the program would cost too much for an individual to own.” His heavy eyes flick to Jin and then back to the figure. “Most individuals. So, someone built that, piece by piece, in some kind of limited process, and they did a decent job. It looks good.”

“Good,” Seokjin repeats doubtfully as he stares at the holographic, wondering if there’s something he’s missing about the distorted piece. Or maybe Namjoon’s just a nutcase.

“Not the subject, obviously,” snorts the nutcase in question. “But the skill is there. Good rendering, skin tones… The facial expressions are on point, too. Took time, took effort, took knowledge… and it’s sitting out here, in some random alleyway, just to fuck with whatever police were here to investigate your murder. See, the mechanism is latched in place? The police didn’t even bother to get rid of it, and since they’re not around anymore, it’s not getting seen by anyone.”

This doesn’t exactly feel like small talk, but if Namjoon is trying to make a point, it’s joining the advertisements prattling above Jin’s head, lost in the haze. He rolls his shoulders, impatient, and moves away from the holographic. A few seconds later it dies away. “Look, I got killed here and I don’t care about the quality of some stupid vandalism. You dragged me to this place, now tell me what’s next.”

Taking that with a mouth that twists a little, Namjoon pivots, points to a spot on the ground. It is conspicuously less filthy than any other spot. “You were found around there. This alley is a dead end, so the guy who killed you was probably close to the entrance when he did it… unless he was supposed to meet with you or set up an ambush or something. Just… try to picture it all. See if anything comes back.”  

Compliant, if not exactly confident, Jin looks around more carefully, willing himself to ignore the unpleasantness and stench and focus on the specifics instead. He trails his fingers over the cinder blocks with only a slight grimace for what his touch smears through, studies each line and scuff in the grime at his feet. There are no windows opening up onto this alley, just featureless walls rising up on either side, blank and disinterested in the little drama taking place between them.

"When did I get shot?" he asks.

"From the police files we, uh, liberated, around two in the morning."

So, it was dark when it happened. If they're close to Ringwanderung – Jin can't be sure, he hasn't seen the building so far and he doesn't remember it's exact location from the last visit he can remember – the roads probably weren't deserted. People would have heard him if he screamed. But did he scream?

The rasp of the ground is rough against his fingertips, and when he pulls them away, they're blackened with dirt. Just a bit of dirt, no blood, even though this is the spot he died in. The police apparently did a good job cleaning up; if his faulty memories are at all accurate, he bled like his heart was trying to water the dry ground. But what else is there? Night time...

He's starting to feel strange again. Disconnected, although this time it's not the sleeve that he's floating away from. No, this time the body stays with him as he detaches from the present, forcing his mind into the treacherous, bleak path of the shadowed past. There's nothing there that's solid. It's disintegrated even more than the vandalism Namjoon was so intrigued by. He has – feelings. Impressions. Maybe-might-if-could-be's that float through his head and come apart when he tries to grab them. Words lost on the tip of his tongue.

He didn't scream. Jin is suddenly certain of that. He didn't scream for help, because the man – threatened something. Threatened someone? Someone – Jin loses it. But the man – in his mind, the man is the holographic, twisted and broken and ominous as he looms up in the darkness, with no solid features to nail in place. He veers in and out of focus, and his words are as intangible as his features. Something about – about wanting, about plans collapsing, about frustration and fear, about defiance, about no no no no you can't–

With a gasp, Seokjin shoves himself up from his crouch, staggers into the wall and stays there, needing the uncaring surface to keep him upright. His chest is aching, fear closing ghostly fingers around his throat, the sensation a faded pressure. This time Namjoon doesn't try to help, but neither does he rush Jin or demand an update. That makes it – easier – to get his breathing under control, but it does nothing to help the simmering pressure bubbling under his skin. He's clenching his jaw, he realizes numbly after a moment, and can't seem to get himself to relax as dissatisfaction upbraids his self-assurance.

All of that, and he still has – nothing. Absolutely nothing. A bunch of gibberish, even less useful than a holographic placed in the middle of nowhere.

He hits his fist against the wall he’s leaning against, more of a tap than a punch, but Namjoon’s eyebrows lift at the aggravated display. “I’m guessing that means you can’t remember anything important?”

“I’m trying,” he pants. “But this is just – garbage and more garbage. I can’t put anything together.”

“Tell me a bit about it.”

“What’s there to tell? I – I got threatened by the guy, I think, and he wanted something. I don’t know if I gave it to him.” Jin coughs, trying to clear a throat that’s gone dry. “Just to be clear, that’s all maybes. I don’t – I can’t tell if it’s real or not.”

“What did he want?”

It’s not purposeful – or at least, Jin’s pretty sure it’s not – but there’s something extremely aggravating about the other man’s persistence. “Yah! Are you deaf? I told you, I don’t know!”  

Namjoon is silent for a moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw, before he turns away. "So, we're at more than one dead end," he comments, and though Jin catches an attempt at a smile at the corner of his mouth, he sounds dispirited. Not angry. Just… tired. Jin is surprised and relieved that his outburst hadn’t elicited a violent retaliation, but there’s something dimly reproachful keeping his throat tight as he follows the other man to the end of the alley. When Jungkook looks over inquiringly, Namjoon shakes his head.

"Let's go inside the Ring and see if there's anything we can pick up there." Passing a hand over his face, for a moment the pink-haired man doesn't follow his own command, just stands unmoving on the sidewalk. It lasts for all of two seconds, but it still makes discomfort sink seething hooks into Jin, somewhere low in his stomach. Obviously Namjoon is struggling to hold himself together, and that doesn't seem to speak well for Jin's immediate future. Or for any of their futures, actually. When he glances at Jungkook, the boy is biting at his lip and watching his leader from the corner of his eye, presumably just as concerned, albeit for entirely different reasons.

Dropping his hand, Namjoon gives himself a little shake. As though they were the ones dawdling, his voice sharpens as he snaps, "Let's go."

True to his capturers' words, the Ring is just a few buildings down, though the street curves sharply upward and had made it difficult to spot the sign from further down the way. The sign isn’t garish, which is surprising given how many eyesores Jin has seen on this street. Three neon rings surrounded by a fourth, all of them differing shades of blue, with Ringwanderung shot through them in a dark blue approaching black. The sign probably looks quite beautiful at night. The Ring itself is a squat building of modern black and grey angles, shorter by two or three floors than the ones on either side of it, but it's also wider than either of them. If Jin remembers correctly, it has several underground floors, too, where most of the drug dens and prostitute rooms are. Above ground, funny enough, was for above ground deals, like dancing, hanging out and eating, drinking alcohol and using some of the milder intoxicants available. Very PG 13.

There aren't all that many people frequenting the club when they enter the Ring, including security. That's not entirely a surprise, given the time, and Jin pauses just inside the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the slightly dimmer setting while they scour the red and black couches scattered across the room. He's half-hoping he'll see a familiar face, someone to run to and beg for help – several of his friends, particularly Taehyung, like to come here, enjoying the establishment’s slight edges. Jin’s come to realize those are pretty laughable. What’s edgy about a building complete with a complement of security guards?

Although, now that he thinks about it... his friends might be wearing familiar faces, but he isn't. What would they do if some random stranger came up to them and started ranting about needing help?

Not react quickly enough to save him from being shot by Jungkook or Namjoon, Jin's pretty sure of that. Even Taehyung, with his special empathy implants, would probably take too long.

Both of his escorts are tenser in this closed setting, anyways. Somehow Jungkook manages to inch even closer to him than when they were walking, and Namjoon doesn't let the same amount of space grow between them as he leads the way through the lounge, deeper into the club. "Keep your head down," he mutters to Jin. "I don't want someone recognizing the sleeve."

Jin stops dead and hisses, “What do you mean, someone recognizing the sleeve?” Seconds later, as Namjoon regards him tight-lipped and silent, a horrified revelation stumbles into his mind. “You – I’m in – You put me in someone’s body illegally? Someone who lives here?”

“Now’s not the time to get into the details, Seokjin,” Namjoon says from between clenched teeth.

“Not the time!” His voice leaps like it’s trying to high-five the ceiling. “Where is – who is – how –” It hadn’t even remotely occurred to him that they might have put him in a sleeve with an owner who wasn’t either dead or locked away or had moved on from this sleeve. He’d just – Meths took their sleeves from others if they took a fancy to one, sure, but that was an exception, not the rule. Most of them were lab-created, or, if biologically based and from parents, at least genetically enhanced. The point being that they were new, and not… He’d known this was a used sleeve, the impulses proved that, but he hadn’t thought that the previous user might still be around! Or their friends!

Namjoon must see the alarm taking over Jin and tilting precariously towards a full-blown meltdown, because he steps closers, grabs Jin’s arm. “Relax, okay? I promise, we’ll fill you in on everything, but not right now.”

He stares wildly into Namjoon’s dark eyes, and they feel like locked doors with bright OPEN signs above them. A lie and a disappointment. “Just tell me. Are they dead? The person who had this sleeve… Did you kill them?”

The fingers wrapped around Seokjin’s arm tighten to the point of pain, but the other man doesn’t look away. Doesn’t hesitate when he says, “No. They’re not dead. Even if they deserve to be. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Seokjin is released and his captor turns away, leaving a throbbing ache in Jin’s arm and a colder hurt in his chest. He doesn’t know if Namjoon is lying to get him to go along with this. Is that why this body is so bruised and battered? Because whoever had worn it before ‘deserved’ it?

“Like I said,” Namjoon tacks on, voice cool, “just keep your head down. Don’t look at anyone for too long. I don’t even think he went here that often, only a few times.” He starts to move away.  

"A few times is a few times too many! Maybe you should have thought of that before?" Jin gripes, unmoving, sweat pouring down his back and making his shirt stick to his skin uncomfortably. The wary looks he darts at the club inhabitants don’t reveal anyone particularly interested, even despite his outburst, but he feels like a target’s been put on his back. "This face isn't exactly indiscrete. It practically begs for attention. You should have grabbed me a hat or something."

Jungkook shoves him in the back, the gun's barrel pressing a painful indent into his body, but that doesn't stop Jin from seeing the way Namjoon grimaces, his head falling, accepting the blame as yet another heavy burden.

The dance area is even emptier than the lounge, with only a few groups of people standing here and there, drinks in hand. The small cluster of booths off to the side are completely empty. A trio of girls are swaying slowly in the middle of the floor. They can't be dancing to the music – there's a quiet but fast electro-pop song playing in the background – and he can only assume by the relaxed way they move that they've been sampling some of the wares that the Ring offers. There's a bar at the back of the room that might sell such wares, a long counter with a bunch of stools manned by a sole crewman. He's not exactly the friendliest looking person Jin's ever seen, with a bristling black beard and eyebrows so thick they could have crawled down his chin and formed another beard. He’s also giving them a once over.

Apparently failing to notice those alarming traits, Namjoon heads straight for the counter. "Arven," he says warmly.

“Namjoon!” the bartender calls back, just as warmly. “If it isn’t the bulletproof boy. I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” When Jin moves to get closer, interested in spite of himself, Jungkook grabs his sweater, pulls him back with a warning look.

“They’re not talking about shit that concerns you, Meth,” Jungkook says. “Just some business deals. How ‘bout you just stand there and look good until they’re done? I bet you’re good at that.” The acerbic words sound a bit awkward, like the kid is trying them out for the first time, and after Jin stares at him for a few seconds, Jungkook flushes and looks away.

Jin mumbles, “I am good at looking good,” and yanks his sweater out of the other's grasp. Still uncomfortable, he scans the room, observation skipping over several people before he freezes. One of the girls on the dance floor, a red head in a floral green summer dress, is watching him, her gaze glassy, and he smiles nervously before looking away.

“Uh, Jungkook?” he whispers. “I think that girl recognizes me.”

“No, she doesn’t know…” The strangled way his guard’s words die might have been funny, if the girl wasn’t making her way over.

“What do I do!?”

“Get her to go away!”

“How?”

Jungkook doesn’t come up with anything before the girl is in hearing range, and a quick look at his wide, panicked eyes makes Jin suspect it would have taken awhile, anyways.

"Hey, Siwoo," the pale girl breathes in an uncomfortably familiar way when she halts in front of them. Her eyes trail across his face, noting the cuts and bruises, but she makes no comment. Is it the norm for this sleeve, or just not something you talk about in public? "It’s so weird to run into you now."

Jin casts a pleading look at Jungkook, but the young man just edges closer, hand under his coat and definitely cradling his gun. Seokjin doesn’t dare turn around enough to see if Namjoon has noticed their interaction, but surely he won’t be shot? If he can just fumble around and pretend to be who he’s not? And if he can’t? Is he ��� or the girl – going to be killed just because he can’t act like a thug? The unbidden thought sets his teeth on edge, and Jin tries to pull his face into something tough and removed.

"Uh, hey," he says, wondering if she's high enough to miss any discrepancies in his mannerisms. Her expression is spacey enough to give him hope. "I had something to pick up nearby, and I, uh, figured this place had a nice ring to it, you know? Hahaha." Her delicate brows furrow, button nose scrunching, and he thinks that maybe Siwoo doesn't use puns too often. Or maybe it was the way his laugh had spiked seventy octaves, nerves punting it up like a pro-kicker over a goalpost.

Before Jin can devolve into panic too much more, the perplexed expression dissolves, replaced by a knowing smile. "You picked up some of the new stuff from Kali, huh? Bet it's got you going." She steps closer, looking back at her friends suggestively. "If you shared some with us, I bet we could really keep you going, Siwoo."

"Ahaha..." His cheeks flaming red, Jin wonders if spontaneously combusting would destroy his stack, or just this sleeve. He also wonders what kind of guy Siwoo is, that girls are willing to make that kind of suggestion, and so boldly, too. The thought does nothing for his embarrassment. "I, uh, can't. Not this time. I’m meeting with, uh…"

A stroke of genius hits, sweeping away most of the mortification. Namjoon said that whoever this body belonged too, he deserved to be dead. Who else could that be, than one of the gang members targeting Namjoon’s group? If that were true… If this girl knows Siwoo, then maybe she knows something about that, too. And if he can find it out…

Jin slaps his forehead, thickens his voice further like he’s seriously intoxicated. “Damn… You know the one. He’s the guy who…” Jin leans closer, pitches his voice lower. “Well, you heard about that Meth that got murdered the other night? It’s the guy who offed him.”

She jerks back, alarmed even in her haze, and gives Jungkook a wary once over. Her voice lowers to a hiss. “Keep your voice down, Siwoo. Fuck, you’ve had too much if you’re talking about David. ‘Sides, that’s your guys’ business, not mine.”

“Yeah, yeah, David, sorry.” He tries to wave an airy hand, but it’s shaking too hard, so he runs it through his hair instead. The motion doesn’t do much to soothe his racing thoughts. “This shit I’m trying is just, uh, really heavy.” She nods slowly, but Jin doesn’t think she’s quite convinced. He tries a different tactic. “Actually, honestly, I’m just kind of pissed off. I heard David got a bunch of creds or something from getting that guy, and he isn’t sharing it with me. But I still gotta grab shit for him?”

As he hoped, the promise of gossip eases her a little, even as a confused frown slopes her mouth. “I heard it was a lot, too. Something big or something, everyone up top was freaking out. Someone said Rafa smiled when he heard. It’s weird he wouldn’t share, when I heard you’re the one who helped him out.” Jungkook moves, a sudden twitch, and she eyes him again. Jin could have kicked him in the shin. Abruptly losing interest, the girl shrugs. “Like I said, it’s not my business. Besides, you never introduced me to your… friend?” Jin stiffly nods. “Who is he? Have I seen you before?” That to Jungkook directly, and with her attention diverted, Jin is free to look at his guard, too.

He hadn’t realized it before, too engrossed in the pretence, but Jungkook might very well be having a heart attack. The kid is shaking and sweating, pink staining every visible patch of skin, and his head is ducked so low his chin might as well be fused to his throat. Jungkook stutters something that’s completely incomprehensible, before clearing his throat. In a very small voice, he says, “Probably. You probably saw me. I – I’ve been here before.”

Such a novel experience as his captor floundering should really be enjoyed, and Jin is spitefully ready to sit back and let Jungkook continue to struggle. It seems no more than justice.      

Unfortunately, impatient or too drugged to hold on to a train of thought, the girl shrugs again, not even interested enough to get a name. “Alright. Anyways, Siwoo, are you going to the Meth party? I’ve never been to one and I hear it's going to be wild! Some of the other girls were invited last week, but since that Meth got messed up, not many of you guys are coming here to throw around party invitations. So far none of you assholes have asked me to go. Plus I doubt any Meths are gonna be sending out invites, either."

The girl is definitely working another angle, and Jin blinks rapidly, trying to keep up with the information. "The party? Uh, I haven't decided yet. It's... when is it again?"

"Christ, Siwoo, maybe you should lay off the stuff for awhile. I heard everyone from your group is invited. It's, what, a few months from now? Remember? If you feel like going, you should hit me up; I want a pass."

"A pass?"

"Duh. Not like the Meths are gonna let just anyone stroll into Glass Harbour, especially not at a party like that." The redhead rolls her eyes. “Can’t have people like us dragging in mud, right? I want to –” One of the girls still on the dancefloor calls out a name, Natasha, and she glances back. Her friends make beckoning gestures. Natasha waves at them and looks ruefully at Jin. “My friends are calling. I’ll see you later, okay? Anytime. Hope stuff works out with you and David… And seriously, let me know if you’re going? Or if you just want to hang out…” She trails away without another look at either of them.

Beside him, Jungkook inhales violently. Within a few seconds Namjoon arrives at their side, face calm but eyes demanding as they turn to Jungkook. The brown-haired man hurriedly says, “I think it’s fine. She’s a friend or something, not someone that knows this asshole is missing.”

“And Seokjin didn’t…” Try to clue her in, Jin assumes Namjoon is asking. He lifts his chin, outraged by the question.

“No,” Jungkook replies, “nothing like that. Actually, he – I think he pretty much fooled her.” His tone could not have been more grudging if he’d made a concerted effort, though before Jin can smile at the faint praise, Jungkook cuts that pretty short. “She was so high I think a pole with a face stuck on it might have fooled her, though.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that while Jungkook was imitating the pole he just mentioned, I was finding out things! A lot of help you were, by the way,” Jin adds with a sour look at Jungkook. Yeah, he definitely prefers the kid flushing in embarrassment instead of wearing a smug grin. At least the former is cute instead of insufferable.

Namjoon forestalls anything either of them might have added. “You can tell me about it when we leave. I talked to Arven, mostly business, but I asked him about the murder, too.” As Jin begins to frown at that information, he continues. “Not about you specifically, just in an indirect way. He didn’t know much about it. Said something about an unusual amount of Meths coming here, and not just thirteenth sons and daughters, either, but even a few heads of houses.”

He looks so excited by the news that Jin feels a little bad to let him down. “That’s not that weird. There are trends, right? Ringwanderung has been gathering popularity for awhile now; it’s not odd that some of the heavy weights would eventually stop by. It’ll be a thing for a bit – maybe a while longer than usual, since I got, uh, since I died – and they’ll move on to other things.”

The way Namjoon’s shoulders slump is distracting enough for Jin to ignore Jungkook’s comment about flighty bastards. Hands hovering and waving awkwardly, Seokjin says, “Well, it might be important. Maybe it’s not a coincidence that I got hurt just when they started coming here.” It’s definitely a coincidence, so far as he’s concerned, but it’s nice to see the gang leader take a deep breath and straighten a little.

“Okay. Well – we’ll figure it out. I’m guessing being here hasn’t struck anything in your memory?”

Jin looks around the Ring. He remembers it well enough, but just from night and weekend sprees, hazy and splotched with drugs and alcohol. There’s nothing immediate about the memories, nothing that says he’s about to stumble onto a massive revelation. Hesitantly, wanting to give it his best try, he spends a few minutes wandering around, his two captors tailing him, but by the time they circle back to the dancefloor, he hasn’t found anything. He doesn’t really want to go downstairs, either, not with this company. After a few more silent seconds of observation, he shakes his head.

His companion sighs, but less heavily than the last time. “It’s time for us to go, then. This was a long shot, anyways, and the less time you’re in the open, the better.” When he gestures, Jin precedes him out of the dance area, leaving the pop music behind, with Jungkook trailing them both.

They enter into the lounge again, soft lights a distinct change from the darker illumination of the dancefloor, the private conversations a pleasant background noise. Jin tunes them out; he’s attempting to calculate what else he has to offer, since this trip has been essentially a bust. Was the Meth party significant? Who was hosting it? He can’t remember being invited to one recently, but that could be his amnesia in general, or maybe he just wasn’t friends or acquaintances with the host. The latter was admittedly much less likely – there weren’t all that many Meths, especially ones influential enough to host parties that normies could be invited to – but if the whole gang was invited, that had to be important, right? Only, what could it mean? What…

“Ah, we’re gonna find something tonight! I can feel it!”

“Sir, it’s barely the evening and we just got here. Besides, we’ve been here so many times in the last few days. What makes today different?”

“It’s a feeling! I’m absolutely positive someone here knows something.”

“…sir, you’ve tried already… Why don’t we just go home…?”

Jin’s concentrating so hard that it takes him a moment to realize that he knows both of the voices coming from a cluster of couches not far from them. When he gawks in that direction, he definitely recognizes the tousled head of dark brown hair just visible above the chair’s back.

A surge of relief hits him, thunderous comfort resonating through his nerves, so powerful that he stops dead and feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Without conscious decision, the name bursts from him, as natural as his own. “Taehyung!”

The gun that’s suddenly jammed against his spine, hard enough to make his mouth tighten in pain, is expected. After all, even as the word had left his lips, he’d regretted it, had wanted to pull it back and give himself time to think instead of showing his hand so early. He’d expected the consequences.

But he doesn’t expect the glacier cold voice that issues from behind him to belong to Namjoon.

“Put your head down, now,” demands the voice he hardly recognizes, and even as Taehyung stands up from the couch and turns their way, Seokjin complies, sets his stinging eyes on the red carpet at their feet. Namjoon snatches his arm, bodily forces him to sidestep away, and Jungkook casually paces in front of them, blocking Tae’s line of sight. “You say anything, you even breathe wrong, and you die. So does your friend,” Namjoon says quietly, his perfect enunciation of each word somehow more frightening than if he’d been shouting.

“What is it, sir?” asks Taehyung’s companion, and Jin knows it’s Drayton, the Kim family’s personal driver. Probably here to drag the man home on his father’s orders, but roped into whatever TaeTae is doing.

When Taehyung replies, he sounds miffed. “I thought I heard my name.”

“Really? I don’t think I…”

You did, Seokjin wants to scream, and he wants to cry too, because God, he’s been so alone, and Taehyung is right there. But a new terror is puncturing his lungs, making it hard to breathe, and this jagged fear has nothing to do with the pistol pressing into his back. It has to do with Taehyung’s curious, clever eyes, and the way he sees things that sometimes he shouldn’t, and the way he wants to help when he shouldn’t, too.

If Namjoon had been just a little slower – if Jin had been just a little louder – his friend would have seen him, maybe even recognized him. And Jin would have had just enough time to see something like bewildered joy bloom across Taehyung’s face before Taehyung, one of the best people he knows, was shot to death, and who cared if it was just a sleeve death? Jin is walking proof that the experience is a horrible one. And the possibility hadn’t even occurred to him until after the fact.

The thought makes him nauseous, literally nauseous, and Namjoon practically has to drag him through the lounge and outside. The air’s still stifling despite being outdoors, and when Seokjin looks up all he can see is buildings and grey haze. No sky to speak of. Yet somehow the rush of people is still present, going through their day as if they don’t have an ashen weight over their heads. It’s smothering and does nothing for the frenetic pounding in his chest or the queasiness in Jin’s stomach.

A harsh shove by Namjoon sets him into a stumbling walk, the gun falling away with his captors hemming him in on either side. After a few blocks, the pink-haired man asks tersely, “Do you think we’re being followed?”

Jungkook says, “I haven’t seen anyone. No… I don’t think so.” There’s a beat of silence between the three of them that’s so profound it almost blocks out the sounds of street traffic, the noisy chatter of the people they’re flowing through. Jungkook breaks it. “We shouldn’t have brought him. Or we should have made sure we had control of him. We shouldn’t –”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

Silence again, deep and miserable and difficult to walk in. Jin doesn’t know what to do, what to say. The constant fear that’s been lapping at his feet or swamping over his head is proving too much; his lips and fingertips are tingling, but Seokjin is numb to everything else. His feet slog through a sticky puddle of someone’s discarded drink without pause, and the clang of his foot hitting the mostly empty can doesn’t even make him glance down. It’s hard enough to just keep his legs moving.

They cover several more streets before Jungkook says, small and unhappy, “Sorry, hyung. I should have kept a closer watch, anyways. I got… distracted.”

“…Nah. S’not your fault. Just bad luck or something. Maybe we’re cursed.” It’s a joke that falls so flat it’s almost 2D, and when Jin’s eyes drift over to Namjoon’s tight face, the man doesn’t really look like he’s joking, anyways.

They’re off the main road now, passing through an industrial zone with cars lining both sides of the street, but few people are in sight among the clusters of squat, stained buildings. Jungkook kicks at the chain link fence they’re walking next to, making it rattle. “It’s not bad luck. It’s him. Why’d you have to go do something stupid like that, huh?” he abruptly demands of Jin.

Jin, grateful to be more or less ignored until now, hesitates to answer. Jungkook’s question isn’t even that mean, more frustrated than anything, but Seokjin can’t tear his gaze from the cracked pavement they’re walking over. Truth is, he’s been wondering the same thing himself. Had he really almost gotten Taehyung killed? All for – what? A second of relief that he wasn’t the only one in this horrible situation? He’d already concluded that no one could help, at least not quickly enough, but he’d called for his friend despite that.

What does that make him?

Once again, Namjoon intercedes on his behalf. Sort of. “It doesn’t matter now, Kookie. We got out without anyone important catching on. All’s well that ends well. A fairy-tale finish.” The bitterness is absolutely impossible to miss by the end, but when Jin risks a look, Namjoon isn’t directing the vitriol towards him. He’s wearing an indrawn expression, fine brows caving together, and Jin doesn’t think it’s the encounter with Taehyung that has him so upset. Or at least, that’s not the only thing.

Namjoon catches him watching, however, and his brows draw down even more. “Jungkook’s right, though. It was stupid. What did you think would happen?”

He waits to feel the sharp prick of defensiveness, but it doesn’t come. “I… I didn’t really think, it just… came out.”

The ice that was in Namjoon’s tone before has crept into his eyes when he says, “Next time – if there’s a next time – you have to think. Because I know this situation sucks, but I’m not risking my crew for a Meth who puts his mouth before his head again. Next time…”

“I get shot. I die. Yeah, I get it.” And he does. He really kind of does. So much so that it does nothing to the leaden mass sunk into every atom of his body.

The tight hollowness in his throat is only growing, a gaping emptiness that’s threatening to climb into his head and plummet into his chest. There’s regret, sure, regret for saying anything, regret for not saying enough, regret that he’s here at all, but the fear is a wrung-out towel, strangled and nearly dry. All Jin wants is to be somewhere else. It’s hard to look away from both Jungkook and Namjoon, since they’re on either side, so once again his gaze finds the ground.

Which is why Jin completely misses the woman, dressed in dark clothes with a black face mask, who suddenly steps out from behind one of the cars ahead of them. There’s a gun clutched in her hand. He misses the way she lifts up the weapon and aims – right at Jin.

He doesn’t miss the crack of the gun going off, though.

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 10: Not a Bad Thing

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Monday November 24, 2008

It’s been days since they’ve had a normal conversation...or any decent form of communication for the matter. This past week had consisted of multiple attempts (on her part) to talk to him, but each time he’d make up some excuse to cut all dialogue short. “My mum’s waiting for me outside, maybe next time?” or “I’m actually late for practice, but I’ll catch up with you later,” but of course he never did. Beyond her comprehension is how she had managed to mess everything up so badly in so little time. 

Eleven minutes. 

Harry had arrived eleven minutes after she had accepted Jasper’s invitation. There’s nothing she can say that can justify why she’d done it because even she isn’t so sure. Maybe she was scared. She’d been so hopeful about where this friendship with him would lead them once before, and it had costed her the first heartbreak of her life. The biggest part of her wanted so badly to wait for Harry to ask her, but a small yet seemingly influential nerve had let her insecurities take over. 

She wishes she hadn’t cared so much about what other people had thought, and instead used her own judgement. She hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be for their roles to be reversed, and she only has herself to blame for it.

“I wish you’d stop stressing,” Cici tells her as they do their warmup stretches. “I doubt he’ll be able to stay mad at you for much longer.”  

“You might be wrong for once,” she smiles sadly, facing down to stare numbly ahead as she reaches for her toes. 

Once she and Harry had parted (or more accurately, when Harry had left her standing ashamed in the hallway), Cici had found her sitting on the floor beside her locker, a somber expression painted all over her face.  

“I messed up,” is all she had mustered up in that moment of fragility, dejected eyes having fallen into her lap. And Cici –– who had already passed an equally, if not more, crestfallen boy on her way to find Y/n –– was readily equipped with her words of enthusiasm, even if she was quite disappointed in the turnout of the day. “You made one mistake –– it doesn’t make you a bad person.” Doesn’t it, though? 

Cici scoffs as she tightens her ponytail. “I am many things, but I am never wrong,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone –– almost arrogantly, if you ask Y/n –– before standing up and brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. “It’s not in my vocabulary.”

“But it’s in mine, apparently,” her lips curve down. 

“I didn’t mean it like–”

“I know.” She rises to her feet. “It was a stupid decision and I wish I could redo it, but I can’t now. He can barely stand to be in the same room as me for more than a class period. He hasn’t dropped by the Home Ec. Room in who knows how long, and I haven’t been able to make a decent pumpkin pie since. Me? Screw up a pie? That doesn’t happen! This weekend I typed out twenty-seven texts that I never sent. Twenty-seven, Cici! Who does something like that?! All saying the same thing, that I like him so much that it makes my heart go crazy, and how it hurts that he might think otherwise because I’m going to this stupid dance with someone who’s not Harry and it fucking sucks!”

It leaves her chest to heave heavily, and her lungs to feel completely depleted of any oxygen. With an outburst like that, she’s managed to surprise herself. And while conversations amongst the other cheerleaders continue, it feels like she’s once again in the spotlight as the heat creeps up her neck and settles on her forehead and the apples of her cheeks. 

Cici stands in front of her, eyes rounded in astonishment and mouth hung open wide. Her eyes quickly dart down at her arm. 

“You’ve never cussed before, I literally just got chills!”

A smile slowly reemerges. “It felt good,” she admits, and she breathes out in relief as her shoulders feel lifted from at least a portion of the weight that had been set upon them. “I’ve been holding that one in.”

“No, that was totally clear.”

A restful silence falls upon them, and Y/n makes it an opportunity to reflect on the upcoming days. She needs to fix this and salvage whatever she can before they permanently fall apart. Hating to sound dramatic, but she has a strong feeling that if they can’t recover from this, then it could be over for good. 

And that’s just not in the cards.

“I’m going to tell him.”

***

Tuesday November 25, 2008

“Got any plans for Thanksgiving?” Maxxie asks him.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh, staring down at his jumbled pile of flashcards on his desk. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it constantly because it had been toying with his mind for the better part of the weekend. “You could say that, I guess.”

The answer, in all its vague glory brings about an amused grin from the boy across from him. Maxxie leans over the table and goes as far to lift his hips off the chair just invade his personal space. “What was that tone?” he gawks, wiping the cards off the surface of the table.

“Well...” he starts off timidly (a bit of annoyance mixed in because he’s going to have to clean up the mess later), and a small burp erupts from the back of his throat as a sign of his mild discomfort. “I was sort of...maybe...actually invited to...” but the tail of the sentence is nearly undecipherable to the human ear. 

Maxxie squints his blue eyes across from him. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch all of it.”

Blowing out the air from his lungs, Harry’s head falls back so all he has to focus on are the dull cracks in the ceiling. Part of him still doesn’t believe it, or rather hadn’t thought it an admissible option given the recent events. He pokes his inner cheek outwards before letting out a tired groan. “We’re spending it with Y/n’s family, okay? There, I said it.”

“You’re bluffing!” 

Harry whistles out a breath. “Not today, mate,” he chortles, rubbing the base of his palm against his left eye. “Jeremy literally asked my mum the day after...well, you know.”

“Are you going to be able to manage it?” there’s a weariness in Maxxie’s voice.

But honestly, Harry doesn’t know. Yes, he’s still broken up about the whole thing. Yet, the hardest part is being next to her and feeling as though he’s missed every chance that he’s had at being hers. Because he’s sure it’ll take him a long time before he’s over her, and that’s what hurts the most.

***

On Day 6, Pattern D finds itself at ten in the morning, the third class of the Tuesday before Thanksgiving break. To Y/n it’ll be the first class she has with Harry, meaning another chance to get things straightened out between them. Now that their positions are reversed, she feels even worse about having treated him so harshly the month before when there had been a hefty cloak of uncertainty to keep things understandably complicated. 

Just as Mr. Daughtry’s door comes into sight, her path is intercepted by a body suddenly appearing before her.   

“Hey, you!” Jasper greets her with a bright grin. There’s a moment of clumsiness when she predicts his fluid movements based on how his arm extends and fingers point in her direction as they rise to the height of her shoulder. In a slight panic, she twists arounds, pretending to fish for a pencil from the side pouch of her backpack. Luckily (for him) he’s able to stop himself from proceeding, and he shrugs the action off as he stretches that same arm over his head. With a skittish laugh he continues. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you this week.”

“I’ve just been busy,” she mumbles, hugging her grey math notebook close to her chin. She can’t help but wonder if he isn’t late to some class, or club meeting, or some discussion about hair accessories (the latter causes her to snigger to herself). 

Jasper simply nods, pulling slightly on the knot of his tie. “So, I told my mom about the formal and she’s super stoked that we’re going together,” he blushes. “I mean, I’m really happy you said yes.”

Meanwhile, the metallic taste of blood starts to fill her mouth the longer she keeps her tongue trapped between her teeth. “Yeah...” she struggles to find her voice. The right thing to do would be to come clean, to be straightforward with him and give him the honest answer he had deserved from the beginning. 

Blowing the air from her nostrils, she parts her lips as they wrap around the words. “Jasper, I actually need to talk to you about that...”

“Karan! What’s up, man?” 

She forces an unbothered appearance in front of Jasper’s friend –– Karan –– as they start a whole conversation of their own. 

This is something she’s found to dislike very much, how Jasper always seems to forget that his friends aren’t her friends...well, at least none that she particularly like enough to call by such an intimate name. It bothers her because she doesn’t know if she can walk away or if this boy has any intention of including her or even continuing with what they’d started only minutes before. 

She taps her foot contempt, not even caring if either find her actions to be tactless. All Jasper does is shoot half a smile before carrying on talking about the latest scandal to hit the tenth grade. 

“I should really get to class,” she meddles in the momentary pause between speakers. “See you around.” 

Before Jasper can send her off with a proper goodbye, she turns around and keeps en route for the classroom. As soon as she’s about to cross under the arch, she collides with another body, notebook falling from her hands and falling open-faced on the floor. 

“’m sorry,” the other rushes out, his voice all too recognizable to her ears. Harry quickly picks up the notebook and holds it out for her to take, but all she notices is how his eyes remain low and unwilling to look at her. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. He gives her a nod in response before signaling for her to go enter ahead of him. But she stays in glued in place. “Do you think we can...”

“There might be a pop quiz, I heard,” he interrupts, his hand finding the small of her back to gently prod her into the room. Despite it being nothing more than a graze of his fingers over her sweater, she still feels jolts of electricity run up her spine and tickle the back of neck. 

With their arrival being just a minute or so before roll call, the only available seats are towards the very rear, two desks grouped together and pushed in the far-right corner of the room. His hand falls back to his side, the absence of his touch leaving her colder than she had just been. It makes her frown, and as they make their way to the back, the space between them only grows. 

For her, this has to be the most difficult consequence to deal with. 

“Alright, since everyone is settled in,” Mr. Daughtry starts, uncapping a blue dry erase marker. “Let’s go over last night’s homework.” And he ponders down at the reference notes on the podium, before the shrill squeaks of the marker against the whiteboard slowly begin to reveal an equation. 

Beside her, Harry opens up his notebook, each homework problem neatly organized (this includes all the work he’d done to solve them) over two pages. She looks straight ahead, slightly squinting so she can decipher the correct answers on the board. “How is it 43?” she asks under her breath, staring down at problem #5.

“It was a negative two, not positive...which would mean b becomes positive in the expression,” he answers. He orients his notes towards her. “Right there,” he points to it with tip of his pencil. He leans in a little closer, elbow coming to rest on the table as his head tilts in her direction. Her heart goes crazy as he goes on to explain the steps of the equation. It’s the first time in days he’s willingly talked to her, even if it is about schoolwork. But she forces herself to shake off the feeling for the time being, if only to prevent herself from messing this up. 

“How’d I even...” And she cross checks with his work, brows curling inward. “Oh, I’m such dummy. I didn’t even notice that!” she shakes her head and rubs her eraser over the page. 

He looks at her for the first time today with a prelude of the softest smile. “You’re not.” 

She offers him a toothy grin as she settles back down. Every now and again will she sneak an admiring gaze. 

***

“Harry!” she calls after him. In the short period of time she’d taken to pack her things, he had already fled the room by the time she looked up. It took squeezing her way through two bulky juniors from their class to quickly find his mop of brown curls in the crowded corridor. 

At the sound of his name, he begrudgingly comes to a stop. He sighs and scratches the back of his head, his internal monologue arguing that he should continue forward. The decision is to be outweighed by a greater influence. 

“Hi,” Y/n says in a bit of a wheeze. 

“Hi,” he returns, nodding. He watches as those around them disperse in their difference directions, until the hallway soon becomes barren during this first lunch period. “What’s going on?” he asks simply. 

She absentmindedly goes to mess with a loose strand of hair. “I was just...” she snivels (allergy season can be a real nuisance). “Wanted to say that I’m really looking forward to Thursday.” 

“Oh,” his mouth forms an o with his lips. He glances to the floor and wriggles his feet as though pebbles were buried in his shoes. “Yeah, I think my mum’s bringing trifle or some kind of dessert.” 

“That’s sweet of her,” she affirms. “Are you excited?” 

Harry looks up, noticing the hope embedded in her eyes. “It could be fun,” he says evenly. “Your dad seems pretty keen on watching the Packers game together. Mason, too, I guess.”

“Mason hasn’t stopped talking about it,” she admits shyly, but can’t help but giggle at the thought of her brother. “You know, he told his teacher that you were his best friend.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh. “Really?” Y/n nods enthusiastically. “He’s a cool kid. Tell him I’m honored.” 

“You can always tell him on Thursday.” 

Harry smiles. “I will.” 

***

Thursday November 27, 2008

Thanksgiving Day has never been more stressful for Y/n. Not only has she been baking since last night (did someone say four different flavors of pie and three fall-themed cookies, and a carrot cake bigger than her dad’s head?) but she must have changed her outfit at least nine times in the last half hour. The Styles’ are expected to arrive at around 5pm, which means she only has another forty-five minutes to come up with the perfect ensemble. Earlier in the afternoon, it had just occurred to her that she hasn’t met Anne nor Gemma, and she’d be dishonest if she said she wasn’t ultra-nervous about it.

Gosh, how her stomach feels so full of air.

She wishes she could be as carefree as Mason because all he’s been fretting over is which boardgame to play with Harry after dinner and which Disney movie he’s going to have running on the laptop whilst Jeremy slaves away to the television at approximately 8pm. 

“Do you think Harry likes Monopoly or Connect Four?” the little boy asks. She tears her attention from her cookie display to look down at her brother who’s holding two boxes up for her to examine.

“But, Mase,” she giggles, wiping her hands on her apron. “You don’t know how to play Monopoly.”

Mason looks at the box in his right hand and eyes it carefully. He gives her a signal of understanding before trotting off back into the living room to set up. Shaking her head, she continues setting up the cookies along the three-tier server. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to impress their guests. “It’ll be fine,” she tells herself.

***

The doorbell rings, and almost instantly does it cause alarm within Y/n. 

“Oh my god!” she panics, running around the kitchen to quadruple check that everything is exactly as it should be. “Dad! Dad! Did you–”

“Yes.”

“How about the–”

“Yes.”

“Okay but what about–”

“Y/n,” Jeremy says sternly from the foyer. She closes her eyes as she listens to the bottom rim of the door brush along the mat. “Welcome! Nice to see you again, Anne. Harry, ready for that Packers game? Oh, hello! I don’t think I’ve met you yet?”

Her eyes widen, he must be talking to Gemma! Harry had told her stories about how close they are since Anne’s job requires a lot of traveling. Oh gosh, she must hate her for having done what she did to her brother. She knows this because she would absolutely despise anyone who would ever dare to hurt Mason. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she breathes unevenly and braces herself over the counter. 

“Not to validate anything your father says,” Olivia sneaks up from behind, “but you really do need to relax.” She takes a good look at her daughter. “Weren’t you wearing the brown sweater?”

But before Y/n has the chance to answer, three new faces enter from the side, her heart skipping over multiple beats as she becomes tightlipped. 

“Hello!” Olivia greets them. “We’re so happy to have you join us! I’m Olivia, by the way.”

Harry’s sister nudges him from behind. “Oh, um...” he looks behind him. “This is my mum Anne, and my sister Gemma.” 

“So nice to meet you,” Anne smiles, and she extends a hand to Olivia, Gemma does the same. “You have such beautiful home. Are those chrysanths you have along the walkway? They’re absolutely stunning!” 

Olivia covers a hand over her heart. “I like you already,” she sobs playfully. “Finally, someone who gets it! Two kids and neither of them share a love for gardening.” 

“You can say that again,” Anne returns. The two share a laugh, and Olivia leads them into the dining room to continue on with their chat. 

It leaves Y/n with Harry and Gemma, and she isn’t even sure where Jeremy might have wandered off to now. Harry whispers something into Gemma’s ear, and she rolls her eyes before shoving her elbow into his side. Y/n can’t help but wonder what he’s saying. Is it about her? Has he found something wrong? Stop this! She reaches behind her and pinches herself. Relax.

Taking a bold step forward, she strikes up conversation. “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gemma replies, a warm aura radiating from her being.  

Y/n tilts her head.  “Good things, I hope.”

“Well,” the older girl starts, sending a smirk at her brother and sniggering when his eyes widen in realization. “This one never stops talking about you.”

Harry gasps, “Now wait just a minute.” But as soon as he’s about to come up with a rebuttal, he’s immediately attacked from behind with a hug. Short arms lock his legs together, and if it weren’t for his sister standing there for support, he would have most definitely fallen over. “There he is!” 

“Harry!” Mason giggles, reaching his arms above his head, a notorious signal for Harry to lift him up. “Did you miss me?”

“Duh!” Harry teases. “How can I not miss my bestest mate?” 

***

Dinner goes better than either she or Harry can expect. Their families seem to have taken well with one another, Anne and Olivia having already formed that instant bond over maternal care and green thumbs. Jeremy is shocked to hear that Gemma is interested in programming herself, and he’s even more impressed to learn that she’s in the process of building her own website. As for Mason, well...it’s a little hard not to fall in love this boy when all he pours out into the world is happiness, and maybe a little bit of cupcake frosting. 

A seating arrangement had predetermined their positions at the table (thanks to Olivia and her brilliant mind). As it had happened, Y/n and Harry are seated beside each other, their chairs closer than usual with the extra chair on his other side. Although, it became apparent throughout dinner of the gap –– while not visible to the human eye –– that remains between them. 

Y/n doesn’t understand why that is, especially since they’d seemed to be on better terms on Tuesday. While they hadn’t eaten lunch together, he did sit next to her during Spanish class so they could work on the conjugation exercise together. Sure, it hadn’t been the most romantic thing they could have done, but it was a start, right? But now she feels bothered that the extent of their communication today has been polite smiles and requests to pass whatever dish the other is closest to. 

Deciding she’s had enough of this, she turns to him. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispers to him. 

“It is the holidays, so...” he keeps his answer elusively.

She has to play it back in her mind to determine if there’s any underlying meaning behind it. Pushing around the remains of her pumpkin pie she speaks up again. “Are you still mad at me?” 

He takes his time before answering, mulling over the words carefully. Yet, there’s no intelligible way to organize them to make it sound any better. “It’s not that simple.”

And that manages to stir something within her. “It’s either yes or no.”

“Y/n,” he warns, not wanting to cause a scene in front of their families. “Now’s just not the time to talk about it.”

She scoffs, shaking her head and willing herself not to cry. “It’s never the time with you.” And she excuses herself from the table. 

***

Giving himself one last glance in the mirror, he wraps his hand around the copper knob. He takes a long breath as he prepares himself to rejoin everyone and pretend that he doesn’t wish he could be anywhere else today. For majority of the day, he had thought he’d moved on from the rejection. However, the more time he spends with her, the more those feelings regress him back to those open wounds. Despite how much he likes watching football with Jeremy and playing Connect Four with Mason, he can’t help but get distracted whenever she comes over and asks thoughtful questions about the game. And that distraction causes him to remember how difficult it’s been to keep up this charade. 

When he opens the door, he’s immediately met with her figure looking up at him with doe-like eyes. His jaw clenches as he tries to ignore how the pout on her plump lips makes a part of him go a little crazy. What’s worse is that he shouldn’t feel this way, not right now at least. Not when he’s trying to stay mad for a little while longer. 

“Please,” she starts off faintly, looking all too small as she stands before him. His expression softens only the smallest amount that she isn’t sure if maybe it was just a twitch. “Can we just talk?” She can see it in his eyes, the answer that’s about to roll off his tongue so blatantly obvious. And before he has a chance to decline, she latches onto his hand and starts to walk him towards the stairs. They’re careful not to draw attention to themselves as they practically tiptoe through the dining area where Anne and Olivia continue to share embarrassing stories from when both Harry and Y/n were much younger. 

The grip she has on him while she leads him up the steps surprises him. Her soft hand squeezes his so tightly that his palms start to sweat from the sheer pressure (and maybe from a bubbling sense of nervousness that’s brewing inside). “Is this really necessary...” he hears himself muttering out loud, even though he’s expecting no answer in return. Although, he may have just felt just the smallest bit of added compression around his fingers as they round the corner. 

Once they’re in her room, she’s sure to close the door this time around. If she’s learned anything from the numerous times they’ve been interrupted, it’s that one can never be too sure around her family –– or anyone really. She debates whether to take it all the way with caution, standing frozen as she stares down at the lock with hesitancy.

“Are you planning on keeping me hostage or something?” he chuckles lightly, plopping down on her bed, having already accepted his defeat. He combs his fingers through his hair a couple times before allowing himself the chance to relax.

She exhales fully and closes her eyes. “If that’s what it takes.” With the lock pinched securely between her fingers, the faintest sound erupts within the space. Click. “Then, yes.” Rotating on her heel, she presses her back up against the door, hand still loosely grasping the handle as she tilts her head back. She keeps her eyes low at first, but as seconds on the clock begin to outnumber them, she has no choice but to have them ascend. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she says shakily, whatever confidence she had absorbed seems to have fizzled out. But she can’t back down now, not when the opportunity is right in front of her. “I knew you were going to ask me, and I swear I was going to wait but then Jasper completely caught me off guard and then everyone was watching and I just...I just didn’t...I just didn’t think. It was stupid and I know that’s not an excuse, but I just want things to go back to normal.” She crosses her arms over her chest, a twinge of embarrassment filling her as her own words repeat through her ears. 

He shifts uncomfortably. All the feelings he’d been trying to avoid are being unlocked, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. It’s not even that he’s mad (he’s found it impossible to harvest any ill-feelings for the girl in front him), it’s more that he’s dreading whatever might come out of her mouth because he isn’t sure he can handle another rejection. “We don’t have to talk about it, really. We’re fine,” he says as neutrally as he can. 

“No, Harry. We’re not. And you know it.” 

He knows she’s right, no matter how much he wants to deny it for the sake of saving his own heart. But now that she’s locked him in, he has no choice but to confront the issue. “Look, whatever might have been between us, I’ll get over it, okay? I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to feel–”

“No!” she almost screams, and she marches right to where his knees bend off the side of the mattress with her lips pursed in a newfound determination. “That’s the complete opposite of what I want to happen.” 

His green eyes are fixed on her. “What do you mean?” he whispers. But she shakes her head, as though regretting the words to come out of her mouth. Because now they implicate her of the thing she’s been dying to say, and there’s no coming back once it’s said.

Not even thinking, he places his hands on her waist to bring her closer. She still refuses to look at him, her arms further wrapping around her vulnerable self. There’s something in the way her bottom lip moves in the slightest matter that intrigues him. And now he just needs to know. “Hey, look at me,” and he gently cups her cheek to encourage her. “What?”

She stays quiet as she tries to get her breathing back to a normal pace, but the feeling of his stare causes a sweat to form down her back. “I don’t want you to be over us.”

With that, she finally looks forward. 

It’s about time one of them be brave.

“I don’t want you to be over me,” she says in the most delicate manner. “I don’t want you to get over me because...” She uncrosses her arms, only to have them wrap around his neck as she settles between his open legs. “Because I don’t want to have to get over you.”

Their eyes meet, and she lets her forehead fall against his. The tips of their noses nudge against each other. A sigh of pure bliss fights its way out of him. He pulls her even closer, thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush of her hips. Her heart beats erratically, as does his as they bask in the echo of a declaration. Two pairs of lips pull up into benevolent smiles before finally coming together.    

Eight letters.

There are eight letters to be remained unsaid (until another time).

***

[marshmallow-phd]

Secret in His Eyes

Spinoff of Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: A vacation exploring China’s famous city was supposed to be relaxing. When you witness a horrifying murder, you instead find yourself in police custody, unable to run. Trying to stay alive, you meet Luhan, and you believe you can trust him. You never imagined that he might be the one you should be running from. 

Part: Prologue I 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

**

Luhan had a rough couple of weeks, to put it mildly. It seemed every time he turned around, there was another issue and he couldn’t find a way out, a way to get back to normal. This one, though. This one might just take the cake. 

Household staff were scurrying out of the way he stormed down the halls, fuming. One of his most loyal soldiers, one of his best men, had gone missing. No one could pick up his trail or find any information on his whereabouts. So now, Luhan’s only choice was to wait and see if whoever took him would send any demands. Or a body part.

How did things ever come to this? For years, his operations ran smoothly, maybe a hiccup here and there, but for the most part, he was able to sit back and watch the earnings come in. Occasionally he had to get forceful with his rivals, but it never took this long. They quickly  scurried back to their sewers while he always came out on top. He could always figure out who’d been undermining him and take them out. But this man… whoever he was, he was always a step ahead of him. 

Kicking his office door shut behind him, Luhan collapsed into his chair. When he chose to go down this path, it was never supposed to be this complicated. As a dumb kid, he’d found what he was good at and ran with it. He rose in the ranks, raking in the money until he was able to start his own operation. With Kris and Tao by his side, they climbed all the way to the top. But now here he was, sinking, fast. 

And now you were dragged into this. 

He dug his nails into the arm of the chair as he thought back to what he’d heard in the car. 

You’d gotten so excited when you heard that female detective’s voice. But you had no idea that the feeling wasn’t mutual. It had been perfect timing, it seemed, considering the topic of conversation you’d eavesdropped on. 

One of the detectives was concerned that you were still missing and that no demands had been sent in nor had your body been found. You’d simply disappeared to them. But the female detective didn’t care. She said that they had your statement and that was all that mattered. They all had better leads to follow, anyway. It made his blood boil. 

Luhan scoffed to himself. Why did he care if you were simply tossed to the side, no longer mattering to the police who took you in the first place? He didn’t make you go into that ally. He didn’t cause you to be the only witness and have you be the key. Why should he feel guilty?

But of course he felt guilty. Because you weren’t just a name in a file anymore. You were so much more. 

Your face appeared in his mind, how close it was to his back in that bedroom. It’d made his heart accelerate. He hadn’t felt that kind of reaction in a long time. Your face was pinched in concentration, careful not to hurt him in your attempt to place nursemaid. If he’d leaned in just a little more he could have- 

He shook his head. Where did that imagery come from?

He didn’t know you. And you certainly didn’t know him. But… he wanted to. For that small amount of time in the restaurant, he’d forgotten all about who he was and the business he ran. Simply listening to your laugh put him at ease. Maybe it was because there was no connection between you and the gang life. You didn’t come from it, nor did you seek it out. It was all merely an accident. Could it be an accident that turned into something more?

That resulted in another shake of his head. No. Luhan didn’t need any distractions right now. And he definitely didn’t need to repeat his past mistakes. 

But that didn’t stop him from jumping up from his seat and leaving the office. 

Because you weren’t simply a distraction. You were awakening something in him that had been snuffed out long ago. It wasn’t a wildfire that was starting, not this time. No, it was something softer, something calmer. But is was there and he wanted to help it grow. There was only one way to do that, though. 

He needed a break from his reality. For even five minutes, he needed to be Lin again. 

**

You hadn’t meant to end up in that room. It was all by pure accident. You’d swear it in court. 

Ever since you came to the mansion, you followed the rules. The only two places you ever went were your room and the kitchen. No detours, no exploring, no snooping. You were quite proud of yourself for being so restrained. 

Although you did have a minor run in with one of the mysterious three, you were getting a little braver when it came to how long you spend in the kitchen. You still weren’t cooking anything, keeping your meals cold and quick to put together. But instead of balancing the meal back to your room where you deemed it “safe”, you hung around, eating by yourself at the island in the quiet. 

Several times over the past three weeks or so, Yixing had happened upon you. He usually only stuck around long enough to check that you were okay. You reassured him that you were fine and not shaken up in regards to the shooting. It worried you a little bit how well you starting to recover from such traumatic events, but you kept that concern to yourself. Yixing was a doctor in the physical sense. If you made out of here alive, you could look into finding one who specialized in the healing of the mind.  

Today you took extra time, letting your mind wander in whatever direction it so chose to go in. If you ever made it back home, would anyone believe the stories you told them? That you had witnessed a murder, been kidnapped by a Chinese mafia, and spent a good amount of time living in their mansion, eating food at their table. Oh, and not to mention, you were semi involved in a shootout. 

Is it considered a shootout if only one side is doing the shooting?

You scoffed to yourself. Who knew you’d ever be asking that kind of question?

Betraying you like Brutus betrayed Caesar, your mind started skipping down the path of what happened after. Your face radiated heat as you played that moment over and over again. As useless as it was, you pressed your hand over your chest to try and calm your heart down before it burst out of your chest. Just the thought of Lin being so close again was sending you into overdrive. And you knew that it shouldn’t. You knew that you should be desperately wanting to get out of here – and you did – but the idea of maybe never seeing the punk gangster again was weighing you down. 

Sighing to yourself, you pushed away from the counter and rinsed off your plate before leaving the kitchen. Most of the household staff was gone for the day or cleaning other parts of the house, leaving you alone as you headed back to your room. You’d tried a few times to converse with a couple maids you’d heard speaking English, but they always hurried away like you were carrying some sort of infectious disease. The only thing that kept you from feeling like a leper was telling yourself that they were probably ordered to stay away from you. 

As you made it up to the second floor, you heard voices coming from around the corner. One particular voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was the baritone boss that you’d run into last time. 

Not wanting a repeat of that experience, you searched around frantically until you found a room with the door cracked open. Forgetting all about the rules in that moment, you rushed over to the safety of the room and closed the door until only a small crack remained. You didn’t want to create noise that would come with shutting it completely and – well, even though you wouldn’t be able to understand a thing they were saying – you were curious as to why he was wandering around here. 

By luck, the leader stopped in front of your door along with Lin, who comically looked up to the giant given their height difference. They were talking back and forth, heatedly and fast that even if you did speak the language, you still wouldn’t have been able to catch the syllables being voiced. 

The conversation came to an end with the taller one pointing straight to where you were hiding before leaving. And then, Lin turned and headed straight for you. 

Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap. 

You scrambled back, looking around to find another hiding spot. Out of all the rooms to have run into, you chose this one. 

Finding a spot between the wall and the dresser, you squeezed yourself into the tight space in an effort to make yourself invisible. Lin slammed the door shut behind him after he entered the bedroom. He muttered to himself as he made his way around. You kept your eyes shut tight as if that would help you hide better. Hearing him come closer, you used your feet to shove yourself farther into the corner, but your heel slipped and you knocked your elbow against the side of the dresser. Reflexes betraying you, an involuntary “ow” escaped your throat. Now you were dead. 

Slowly, almost teasingly, Lin made his way over to your corner of the room. When he spotted you, he folded his arms over his chest. 

“Well, there you are,” he smirked. 

Instantly, your hands flew up into a defense position. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear!”

But he never showed that he was angry or upset that you’d technically broken the rules. All he simply did was hold out his hand for you to take. 

“You’re not mad I’m in your room?”

Lin cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “This isn’t my room. This is one of the boss’.”

“What!” 

You jumped up to your feet in a flash, but the sudden change in elevation caused you to be off balance and you rammed into the dresser for a second time. Lin caught you in time for your own sake, but the same couldn’t be said for the contents on top. Most of the objects just rattled in their place, but one picture frame fell, landing on the carpet with a soft thump. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” you groaned. With high pitched whimpers, you bent down to pick up the frame, but Lin was there first, swiping it up before your fingers could touch the thick brown frame. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. The smile had now faded away. A heavy, burdened sigh blew through his lips as he put the picture back in its place. Your eyes flickered back and forth between Lin and the photograph. 

“Are you sure this isn’t your room?” you questioned. 

Lin didn’t turn back to look at you. “Why do you think that?”

“You seem attached to that picture,” you pointed out. “It’s okay if this is your room.” You laughed shyly. “I’d feel a bit better if that was the case, actually.”

“No,” Lin shook his head. “This isn’t my room. But I knew her. The girl in the photograph.”

Your eyes rested on the beautiful woman smiling brightly back at you. She had long black hair cascading down her back and her smile was dazzling. Everything about her screamed “sophistication” and “glamor”. It’d be a lie if you said you didn’t admire her a little bit. “Who was she?”

“She was his first love,” he explained, finally shifting so he was at least partially facing you. “His almost escape.” 

You frowned. “Which one? The dark haired one doesn’t seem like the romantic type.” 

“You’d be surprised,” he snorted. Then the smirk fell away. “But no. It wasn’t Kris. It was Luhan. He met her after he was already in this life. But he was willing to leave it all behind for her. He nearly did. But she changed her mind. She didn’t want to be associated with a gangster - former or not - for the rest of her life.”

You couldn’t quite blame her for that. “Where is she now?”

Lin shrugged. “She’s married to some corporate director with big houses and multiple cars.”

Your admiration for her slightly dimmed, although who knows? Maybe she was genuinely happy and the material things were just a perk. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. 

Raising one eyebrow at you, he asked, “What for?”

“You seem sad about it,” you told him. Sad was an understatement. Was there perhaps a hidden love triangle in his past? “I guess it’s just a knee jerk reaction from me.”

Without warning, Lin grabbed your hand and rushed you out of the room. He kept pulling you through the hall and down the stairs. He didn’t slow or stop until the two of you were outside in the backyard. 

“Lin, what are you doing?” you huffed as you tried to catch your breath. “Do you not remember the last time I left the mansion?”

That just made him laugh. “We’re not going into the city. Don’t worry. We’re going there.” He pointed to the thick trees that bordered the mansion. 

Your eyes grew wide. “What? Why?”

“Why not?” was his reply before he tugged you along. He pulled you deep into the trees until you could no longer see the house through the leaves. When he’d decided you’d gone far enough, Lin let go of your hand and took a few more steps, sighing to himself as he closed his eyes and lifted his head to the obscured sky above. 

“I needed out of that place,” he said quietly. “Sometimes… sometimes it’s just too much. I feel like I can’t escape it. Like it’s trapped me in it’s grip and I have nowhere to run.” Turning to you, he smiled sadly. “For some reason, with you, I can at least take a few steps back. When I’m with you, the weight isn’t as heavy.”

You blinked, unsure of how to interpret his meaning. Your heart was pounding in your ears. Lin took a step towards you and you instinctively took a step back. It was simply a reflex your muscles acted out before you could think it through. The closer he came, the harder it was to keep your thoughts coherent. Could it be that maybe the two of you were on the same track?

Not knowing your reasoning, Lin’s face dropped. “I won’t hurt you, (y/n). I swear it.”

“I know,” you swallowed thickly. This time when he took a step, you didn’t move, not that there was anywhere for you to go. So he took a chance and came closer. And closer. 

Soon, you were pinned between Lin and the trunk of a tree. The bark was digging into your back, poking and pulling at the skin through your thin shirt, but you barely noticed with the feeling of Lin’s breath on your face. On either side of you, Lin held on to the tree, balancing on his fingers to keep the minimal amount of space between you. His eyes flickered between your own and your lips. The tension - the same that had been in the air back in that woman’s bedroom - was encompassing you. 

“Do you hate me still? For taking you away from the motel?” he whispered. 

You shook your head slowly, replying in a voice just as soft, “No. I feel safer here.”

It was the truth. Back at the motel, you were on edge, fearful to the point of tears that you barely managed to hold back. But here, while you still felt scared at times, especially around a certain someone, you found yourself easing into a routine, able to think of other things than just when you’d meet your death. And… as much as you hated to admit it... the biggest reason was because of the man in front of you. 

Inching in closer, Lin eliminated any room between you, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours. “What if I promised to keep you safe forever? Could you stay with me?”

Desperation was ringing in every syllable. He was pleading with you. He wanted to keep you. And part of you wanted to stay. 

But you had your own life far away that you wanted to get back to. And no matter what feelings you were developing for him, you weren’t sure you could ultimately survive in this world. You weren’t tough, you weren’t made of hardened steel. Why would someone like him want to have someone he’d have to protect all the time?

At your silence, Lin was encouraged. He came in so close you could feel his lips faintly brush against yours, testing the waters. 

You turned your head away, unable to go through with the kiss. If he hadn’t asked you to stay with him, you could have done it. You could have tasted his lips on yours. But he did put that question out there and that was like throwing a branch in front of a cyclist, bringing you to a crashing halt. 

“We can’t stay like this forever,” you admitted. 

“Why not?” he challenged. He’d pulled back enough for you to see his hardened expression, his jaw clenched tight in a way that made you shrink back. “What if we just left? I have the means to make us disappear. No one will harm you ever again.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” It was a straight statement. Because you could see it in his eyes. The hesitation, the hope that you didn’t want that. They were just pretty words to draw you in. He was in too deep with this life to get up and run like that. 

“I could,” Lin fought back. But there was no earnestness in his voice. 

When you didn’t say anything, he sighed, lowering his head to rest his forehead on your shoulder. One hand moved to your waist, perhaps to keep you from running away, and he stayed in that position for a few minutes. When he finally raised his head again, he seemed resigned to your answer. 

“You won’t run away from me now, right?” He tried to smile. Unfortunately, anyone would be able to see the extreme effort he was putting behind it. 

“No,” you promised. “I told you, I feel safe here. With you.”

“Self preservation,” he chuckled. “Usually, I’m good at that. I guess I just had a momentary lapse of judgement.”

“I like you like this.” Shoot. You sucked in your bottom lip, suddenly regretting your little comment. 

Lin frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You won’t let me kiss you, but you say things like that. How is that fair?”

Still slightly out of your mind, you decided to throw the poor guy a bone. He’d taken a step towards you, so it was only fair for you to reward that bravery. 

Taking him by surprise, you leaned forward and pressed your lips quickly against his cheek. Instead of being happy about it, however, he groaned. 

“So mean,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“I was trying to be nice,” you whined. 

“Well, it would be really nice if-”

“There you are!”

Lin jumped back, eyes wide as he looked to where the voice came from. Stalking towards the two of you was another tall man in an expensive suit. This one, however, had blonde hair. His sharp eyes did not look happy and a scowl lifted his upper lip. By his very aura you could assume that he was another one of the big three. 

You gulped as your stomach dropped. The two of you were in deep trouble.

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us Chapter 2

2. Arrival

Previous Chapter: Here 

Eden-4 was a pretty self sustaining planet, it wasn’t home to a huge weapons manufacturer like Eden-6, nor was it a metropolitan super city like Promethea, and at the very least it wasn’t a barren desert hellscape like Pandora. It was just a nice forest planet, with a healthy farming community and one very enthusiastic group of people who took a siren being around weird , a nice planet to live a calm and casual life . However, being a relatively secluded planet meant that off planet visitors weren’t a common occurrence and it meant that the sound of a large space faring vessel entering Eden-4’s atmosphere was enough to startle Sloane awake instantly.

“What the fuck?” She thought,falling out of her bed. “Oh right the Calypso twins.” She picked herself off the ground and untangled herself from her blankets tossing them back on the bed. She decided she would show up at the arrival and see what all the fuss was about, normally she wouldn’t get dressed out of her pyjamas until after lunch but this was a special occasion after all.

She left her house and headed to the city center, as the tree tunnel that hid her house opened up to the sky, she saw a large transport class ship hovering in the upper atmosphere above the city. On its bow even from the height the word ‘Centurion’ was clearly visible in white lettering. It was an impressive ship though she supposed she should expect no less from the leaders of the Children of the Vault.

Sloane had decided she didn’t want to get too close to this arrival, if the Twins we’re here for the vault she would be a prime target. However, she couldn’t miss an event like visitors coming to Eden-4 so instead she came as close to the spaceport as she felt comfortable, seeing the crowd amassing and she slipped over to a tree having it scoop her up in its branches and carry her aloft to a nice vantage point.

She watched as a smaller drop ship landed at the spaceport, within minutes the doors to the ship opened and out stepped two figures, the girl was short yet stocky, she wore the same jacket cloak and high collared shirt she had in the videos. This was obviously Tyreen. Following behind her was a man, tall and lanky, he had the same sharp features as she did though his hair was black in contrast with Tyreens white. The most noticeable feature about him though was his large mechanical right arm that appeared to be made from scrap metal and barely cobbled together, both of the twins were far more intimidating in person than they were on film.

“Helloooo Eden-4! The twin gods have arrived!” Tyreen exclaimed in the same boisterous voice Sloane had heard in the videos. There was something almost predatory in the way the twins looked at the crowd of people before flicking to the horizon and though she knew there was no way that she could be seen from here she found herself ducking into the leaves of the branch and ultimately climbing out of the tree all together.

Perhaps they were after vault after all and that would put her on their radar sooner or later. She would prefer to be ready when it did.

                                                             ***

“Quite the crowd we pulled in, eh Sis?” Troy remarked as he set his luggage down on the hotel bed.

“We always do, don't we?.” Tyreen was sat on her bed across the room looking down at her echophone scrolling through the files on the Siren that inhabited this planet and the history of the vault.

“I can’t believe the historical society just handed over those files like it was nothing. Like I know we’re a big deal and all but you’d think they’d have a little more loyalty to one of their own.” She mused as she noted just how much information was on the file; a comprehensive history of the girl's life. Not that she had done anything of note as far as Tyreen could see, just an artist who happened to be a Siren, her abilities seemed to be plant based and Tyreen was sure it would be easy enough to convince her to do what they wanted. While the Siren was the first one to be born on this planet the vault of course had been here much longer but as it stood now, the only way to get to the vault was through the Siren as they had been smart enough not to include the location of the vault key, only that she knew where it was.

“Think she’ll be trouble?” Troy asked as he took a seat next to her. “Kinda surprised it has taken this long to run into another siren.”

“I’m not, there’s only six of us Troy and we’ve been purposely avoiding falling under the Firehawks attention on Pandora so you know it’s not like we’re begging for another Siren to notice us.” Tyreen yawned seemingly less concerned with matter than her brother was.

“Uh yeah I know, I’m just saying. Think you’re gonna have to like I dunno fight her?”

Tyreen finally put down her phone looking at her twin with an annoyed stare. “I will if she gets in my way, otherwise I really don’t see the point.”

Troy nodded and opted to stop pestering his sister for the moment, she was obviously tired and it was best to leave her alone. Besides in the morning they had a siren to hunt.

***

It was easy to fall back into the rhythm of tending to the things around her little spot of woods like the Calypso Twins had never even set foot on the planet. Sloane was sure that they couldn’t be looking for her and that surely no one would tell them that she was the only one who knew where the vault key was would they?

She was out on the backside of her house hanging her laundry out to dry when she heard the sound of someone approaching the house from the front.

“That’s strange.” She thought. She wasn’t expecting guests as she walked back into the house. Warily she opened the front door to find herself face to face with Tyreen Calypso. Her first thought being “Wow she’s shorter than she looks on camera.” Luckily she had the sense not to blurt that out. Especially once she noted that the look in the other sirens eyes seemed particularly malicious.

“Uh hi, Can I help you with something?” Sloane asked cautiously and stepped back from the door. She felt intimidated even though the other woman had done nothing as of yet, but in reaction to the rush of fear she felt her siren marks began to glow a faint blue.

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,doll. You should just relax.” Troy’s smooth voice rang out from behind her and she quickly felt the cold metal of his cybernetic hand close around her wrist. Of course, she had forgotten to lock the back door after she’d come in to investigate the knocking. “We’d hate for anyone to get hurt.”

Sloane squirmed in his grasp, though it was a futile effort, there was no way she could safely get out of this.

“You can let her go Troy, I think she understands it’s easier to comply.” Tyreen said. Sloane felt her wrists sting as the metallic hand released its hold on her.

She straightened up and felt like a deer cornered by wolves as she looked between the Calypso Twins. She hated that they had managed to muscle into her own home and make it seem like they owned the place. This realization gave her a streak of boldness that she opted to run with.

“You two can stop with the theatrics, I don’t see a camera anywhere so I assume you’re not filming this; if I’m wrong about it and you are with how the both of you are acting I’ll assume it’s not live and you’re planning to edit out whatever you don’t like.” She said as her eyes scanned the room one more time not seeing anything out of the ordinary “So why don’t you tell me why you two are in my house? Otherwise I’ll politely ask you to leave.”

“Oh this one is sassy, Ty.” Troy remarked though Tyreen shrugged it off.

“We got intel that says you know where the vault key is and given that you know that I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you know where the vault itself is. Now I’m sure you’re already aware that the vaults are very important to my brother and I. So why don’t you make this easy on all of us and tell us where they are?” Tyreen demanded. Though the other woman was about the same height as Sloane was her mannerisms and speech made her seem all the more imposing.

“And if I don’t?” Sloane shuddered as the metallic hand caressed her cheek and caught her under the chin tilting her head to look back at Troy and she caught a glimpse of a large sword that sat sheathed on his back.

“Be a shame to add a face as pretty as yours to the trophy gallery, but heretics don’t get mercy you know.” Troy smirked and his metal fangs glinted in the light and Sloane all the more felt like she was helpless in this situation, the Calypsos had her exactly where they wanted her.

“You two can stop with the threats really, and I mean why assume I’m a heretic when all I’m doing is asking questions? I’m more than willing to help you, this whole guarding the vault key from outsiders responsibility has never really been my thing. Plus it’s like c’mon how am I supposed to judge who's ‘worthy’ to open the vault I’m just one woman but to be fair the two of you seem like the most prepared and knowledgeable people I’ve come across asking about it so might as well hand it over right? You are the Children of the Vault after all, I can’t think of anyone more suited for the job.” Sloane was stress rambling a little bit even though the rational part of herself told her that she was of more use to the twins alive despite the obvious posturing they were doing.

The twins looked at each other, clearly not expecting her to so easily give them what they wanted. Tyreen shrugged and smirked as she looked back at the other siren.

“Yeah? Well go one then. I’m sure you’ve got terms before you take us to the vault, we can make this a business deal. I’m feeling nice today.” Tyreen crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, everyone had a price and seeing as the other siren hadn’t seemed to be a threat she was willing to pay that price, within reason of course. Besides she hadn’t decided if she was going to kill the other woman yet.

Sloane blinked a few times; she hadn’t been expecting Tyreen to offer her anything other than not killing her as payment for what the twins wanted. She thought for a long moment before meeting Tyreen’s gaze again.

“I want to get off this planet, half of the people here treat me like I’m something to be worshiped and treated with reverence but I’m just a person. I’m not like the two of you, I have no plans to build a following or be a god and when the Vault is opened well I don’t need to be here to protect it now do I? I won’t be a bother, I’ll even be your new ship janitor if that’s what you want. I just want to get away from here, I’m tired of being stuck on this stupid planet.” Sloane ran a hand through her hair nervously, she hoped she wasn’t asking for too much.

Tyreen looked to Troy and raised a brow, the twins seemed to have a silent conversation in the moments that passed before they both looked back to Sloane.

“That’s all you want?” Tyreen asked, resting a hand on her hip. “You want a way off this planet. So much so you’re willing to serve us.” She seemed puzzled by the fact that Sloane seemed so easy to win over yet the desire to leave the confines of one’s planet was one Tyreen could sympathize with.

“Uh yeah?” Sloane was puzzled. Was it really that hard to believe? Had they really been expecting her to make some kind of extravagant request of them.

“Well it’s not the strangest request we’ve ever gotten. We’ll give you time to pack your things then come back for the Vault key, how does two days sound?” Tyreen nodded toward the door and Troy finally stepped around to join his sister, the taller of the twins looked Sloane up and down before flashing a smirk again.

“We’ll be in touch, don’t go get cold feet and run off either. Tyreen’s not a big fan of the chase.” He said as Tyreen gave a snort and nudged him with her shoulder, then as quickly as they had come in they were gone leaving Sloane still a bit stunned as she processed all that had happened. She checked her phone, the entire exchange had only taken about twenty minutes though it had felt like the three of them had been locked in the tense negotiations for hours.

So this was really happening. She was really about to leave the forest that had been her home for twenty-three years. It had protected her just as much as she protected it, though in recent years it had felt more like the forest was keeping her from truly enjoying her life. The canopy that blotted out the stars feeling more like a cage than protective barrier to keep the outside world away from her.

She slid down onto her couch, Persphone crawling out from the bedroom where she had hid while the twins had been present and climbing onto Sloane’s lap. Her fingers ran through the lizard fox’s fur as she processed what she would have to prepare for.

[pokemaniac1]

To Grant a Wish - Part 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite​‘s 7.7k Celebration (Covid Sucks) Challenge. This got waaaay away from me and ended up being almost three times longer than I thought it was going to be. It was originally going to be a oneshot but i’m going to have to post the second half in a few days due to the flu. :( 

Check it out on Ao3 Here

My prompt was this image:

Summary: After trying and failing to set an appointment to meet with Iron Man, Make-A-Wish Foundation worker, Eliza Elliot, has no idea how she's going to help her kids fulfil their wish to 'Meet a real life superhero'.  

However, thanks to an online video, some determination, and a pair of chaotic interns, Eliza manages to pull it off.

Warnings: Childhood illnesses, references to terminal illnesses, hospitals, possible inaccuracies in the job description tbh, cat calling, getting cornered by drunk guys, threatened assault, car crash, (almost)getting run over by a car,

------

Saturday evening had Eliza rubbing her eyes tiredly and glaring at the phone in her hand. The number to the Stark Industries' head office flashed briefly on her phone’s screen before going black.

She had been trying to get in touch with the events' coordinator of the company, or someone who could help her, for the past 3 months, but she'd been shunted off from one person to the next with seemingly no end in sight.

She noted the time, seeing 8:26pm, and sighed. Closing her notepad, she was about to place it back in her bag and head off for the night when her phone buzzed on the counter. She looked at the number and, seeing one of the numbers she had spent over an hour on hold with today, she scrambled to pick it up. She almost lost her mug - empty but for a few left over coffee grinds laying at the bottom - off the side of her desk in her haste but managed to catch it just as she pressed the 'Accept Call' button. She placed it back on the teetering pile of papers that sat on the edge of her desk, its weight balancing out the whole pile and preventing an avalanche that was one day inevitable.

"Hello! This is Eliza Elliot." She said to the phone, her best Customer Service Voice(TM) in place. She hoped briefly that she didn't sound too frantic.

"Ah, Miss Elliott. This is Michael Walters, I'm the deputy events manager at Stark Industries." Came the clipped voice from the other end. "I'm calling to follow up with you regarding your calls over the last few months." "It's great to hear from you Mr. Walters." Again, Eliza did her best to sound calm, hope rising in her chest. Three months and finally a response. "I was told you were one of the best people to speak to in regards to setting up an appointment with Iron Man." Him and like 20 others. "That's correct, I'm one of those in charge of approving Mr. Stark's events." he said, sounding like he had his nose pointed to the ceiling.

The haughtiness in his tone was hard to miss and Eliza felt her own nose wrinkle in distaste. Just get through this conversation Eliza. You've waited 3 months for this opportunity. She took a deep breath and jumped right into it.

"Great! As you're most likely aware from my previous calls, I'm calling on behalf of the Make-A-Wish foundation. I'm looking to set up a meet and greet with Mr. Stark and some of the children who would love to meet their hero." Her rehearsed line came out in a single breath and quickly enough it almost sounded like a single word. Thankfully, it was understandable, but it was a close thing. Pinching herself slightly, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Here next words came out a tad more controlled. "What would be involved....."

"Miss Elliott." Came the abrupt reply, cutting off her off. "I'm calling to inform you that, unfortunately, we can't approve of an event held at your location." Eliza's breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, well thank you for getting back to me and letting me know. Is it because of security for Mr. Stark?" She asked once she could breathe again, figuring that that would be a valid concern considering everything that the Avengers deal with on an almost weekly basis. It's not like a small (government funded) hospital in the middle of New Jersey would have the kind of security needed to prevent those risks. "We're happy to book an approved venue if that's what it takes."

"Ah wonderful, we can put you on the waiting list then." Walters said. The snobbish tone was still present and it rubbed Eliza up the wrong way. Do it for the kids, Eliza. Jeremy and Zeki have been waiting for this. She heard papers shuffle in the background. "It appears our next available booking is in 18 months at the..."

Her heart plummeted, a heavy rock forming in the pit of her stomach not even hearing where the venue was. She found her voice after a moment and was quite proud of the fact that there was no waver to it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Walker. I know this may be a lot to ask, but is there any chance we can get an earlier time slot?" She asked. A pause on the other end had her palms sweating. She rushed to fill the silence. "It's just that, we have a couple of kids who have been waiting a really long time already and we're working on fast-tracking a few select wishes due to the nature of their illnesses." Fuck. Did I just violate HIPAA by saying that? Shit fuck. Too late now. "They're really looking forward to seeing their heroes."

"Miss Elliott," He started, a harsh edge to his voice. "I certainly cannot rush you up the queue. If we let anyone just push ahead, especially those looking for handouts, then we wouldn't be the industry leaders we are. Your organisation will wait your turn regardless of whatever sob story you have lined up."

Eliza was stunned silent momentarily, not quite sure how to respond.

She wasn't the best with social cues, but she was pretty sure that the man's response was entirely uncalled for. Even if she was trying to get a foot in the door to meeting her superhero for personal reasons, surely they had enough resources to do a background check on everyone who was trying to get a meeting? Wouldn't that be enough to see that she was who she said she was?

He clearly knew she was with the Make-A-Wish Foundation though. He mentioned looking for handouts, was this because they were a charity? Why would they have a problem with that though? Tony Stark and Stark Industries was famous for having one of the most influential charities in the country in the Maria Stark Foundation. Surely they'd be understanding in helping another charity? This sort of thing is what they did, right?

Mr. Walker had continued talking throughout her minor existential crisis.

"It's also come to my attention that you have made over a dozen calls to our office just in the past month." He said in his imperious tone.

She didn't need to look at her notes to know that, yes, she had indeed called them over a dozen times this month. Twenty-six times to be exact. Though, to be fair, most of those were to the Maria Stark Foundation rather than Stark Industries itself and all of those were because they couldn't seem to decide who was in charge of organising a meeting with Iron Man.

"I have booked you in for the next available appointment in 18 months. Our event team will be in touch with the details in the next 48 hours. From now on, please refrain from excessive phone calls, otherwise we will be forced to pursue legal action on the grounds of harrassment. I hope you have a lovely evening Miss Elliott."

At the sudden beep signalling the end of the call, Eliza could only stare at the phone, the number again flashing on the screen before going dark. After what felt like an eternity, she placed the phone down on the counter and collapsed her head onto her arms.

What the fuck was that?

--------------------

Two days later on Monday morning, Eliza walked into the children's wing of the hospital, the laughs and chatter that greeted upon her entry making her smile. Despite everything that they were going through, the kids always managed to have smiles on their faces.

Her job as a Wish Granter with the Make-a-Wish Foundation had her scheduled to come in to socialise with her assigned children at least three days a week. She adored seeing her honorary children whenever she was scheduled; it was a  part of her job description that was a bonus she was very happy to take advantage of.

They were so often such a joy to speak with as the distinctive resilience of children was plain as day in almost all of the kids in the hospital. Whether they're hospitalised because of cancer, a birth defect, or even a degenerative disease, the vast majority of the time they're playing and laughing as much as they were able just like any regular kids.

Her job could be really difficult though. Sometimes, it was heart wrenching to look at all the tiny faces in the children's wing of the hospital and know that for some of them, their stay in the hospital would be ongoing for the remainder of their lives.

There were also days where certain children had a particularly painful day. It could be a flair up, a seizure, or a day after a surgery. The days that she had to watch the almost lifeless forms of usually energetic children weighed heavily on her heart.

Thankfully, that day seemed to be one of the good days.

When we she walked through the door to the ward one of her children were assigned to, she was almost bowled over by a bright blur at waist height. She only just managed to stay standing by reaching out and snagging the doorframe with one of her hands, steadying both herself and the little barnacle that was now attached to her legs.

She looked down and her face brightened in happiness at seeing the excited face of one of the kids looking up at her. Her concerns of the previous night's talk were put on pause and sent to the back of her mind as she went to chat the tiny ray of sunshine.

"Carly!" She exclaimed, taking in the little 6 year old dressed in her favourite summer dress, even though it could be considered sweater temperature in the air conditioned room. "It's good to see you, sweetie! I see you're up and moving about like a little tornado."

That got a giggle from the little girl and another squeeze before she let go and stepped back from Eliza.

"I'm super fast today!" Carly giggled. "I totally surprised you just then, didn't I?"

"You sure did." Eliza laughed, taking a step back into the room and making space in the doorway for a mum coming in. "What have you been up to today with all this energy?" The question seemed to remind the girl of something and she quickly grabbed hold of Eliza's hand again, tugging her towards a bed at the back of the ward and chattering so fast Eliza couldn't keep up with what she was saying.

As she was dragged walking past, several parents who were sitting beside beds – some carefully trying to avoid any wires or IV cords their young children had - looked up and smiled in greeting at her. They were doing remarkably well at managing the kids considering most of them seemed to have caught whatever spurt of energy Carly was displaying. She'd be worried if it weren't such a refreshing sight to see.

The children in this ward ranged in ages from five to ten years old and while most of those in the children's wing stayed maybe a couple of nights at a time, this ward and the ones either side of it were where those with some of the more serious conditions were staying. These were the kids who tended to come in more frequently for operations or observations and for longer periods.

For example, Carly, who wasn't one of the children whose Wish she was organising but was hard to ignore even on one of her bad days, was there that day on observation after a scare that her leukemia was returning. She'd recently had her third chemotherapy treatment so she was still in the early stages of treatment. Despite this, she rarely stayed still for very long, and was on her feet as often as she was physically able to be, much to her parents' distress.  

It hurt sometimes to know that such young children were going through such terrible experiences, but they always maintained such positive outlooks on their lives, it was difficult to remain too upset around them.

Eliza noted, with no small amount of amusement, that the bed she was being led to was almost completely covered with pillows. It was an impressive stack to say the least. It had been covered from the very top to the very end in pillows of varying sizes and was roughly five layers high all the way across, even six layers in some places. If Eliza had to guess, she'd say there was easily fifty pillows just on that one bed alone. Beside her, Carly was chatting away happily, informing Eliza that they had plans for today and that they needed her help with a very important task.

"Mummy said we weren't allowed to start until you got here, so now that you're here you, me and Zeki can play princes and princesses! Buuut...." the drawn out word was punctuated with another fierce little tug to her arm. "we need a castle!"

Eliza huffed out a laugh and traded an amused glance with Carly's mother who was watching everything from a chair by the window.

Zeki, a young boy with polymicrogyria and a smile with an intensity set to outshine his hardships, was standing beside a tower to the pillow gods, practically vibrating with excitement. He was one of the two children whose wish Eliza was organising and he happened to be one of Carly's best friends in the ward. The two of them were practically inseparable when they were staying in the hospital at the same time.

Due to his condition, his brain hadn't developed correctly in the womb and led to Zeki being born deaf, having a lot of trouble with coordination, and often experiencing seizures. It was a severe condition that was progressively getting worse. This condition, paired with an underdeveloped heart, had led to far too many close calls for comfort and a great deal of uncertainty of his survival with each seizure (hence Eliza's urgency to get in touch with Iron Man).

Kids being kids though, that didn't stop either of them from playing their hardest. With an excited wave at Eliza when he saw her, he pointed at the pillows and started signing even more wildly. She didn't know much sign language but it looked like a pillow fort construction was in the near future. She was proven correct a moment later.

"He says we're going to be building a Pillow Castle Fort, 'liza!" Carly almost shouted her Big Reveal as they came up to him. "Ooohh! That sounds fun!" Eliza said with enthusiasm. "That's a lot of pillows you have there. Where did you get them all?" "His mummy brought most of them and my mummy brought some of the others! We needed at least a hundred pillows for the castle!" She said with a serious nod to her head. "Let's go!"

"I'd love to help, Carly. But, aren't you supposed to be resting today?" Eliza asked, pausing by the bed and giving the girl what she hoped was a disapproving face. She apparently needed to work on her disapproving looks because Carly just grinned, ignored her, and started helping Zeki move the pillows from the bed to the floor. Eliza sighed. "Fine, but once we finish, you're going to bed, little miss."

And with that, the three of them got to work. With a chuckle and an amused glance at the two troublemakers Eliza focused on following the appointed princess' directions.

She wasn't surprised when, after only a minute and in a moment of frustration and mischief, as they were taking the main pile off the bed, Carly decided that the easiest way to bring them down was via the avalanche method; i.e. Grab a couple from the bottom of the pile and rip them out to bring the rest of the pillows down on top of them. Zeki let out a squeal of surprise and then a loud giggle as the pillows tumbled down around them.

Once that excitement was over, the castle was started by using the bed as a foundation with the pillows propped up against the legs and built around it. Carly obviously had a vision as to how her castle needed to be designed because she took over directions almost immediately and was very fastidious about the placement of each pillow.

She wasn't sure exactly what she was signing to Zeki, but her playful comments to Eliza along the lines of "'Liza, make sure that pillow is exactly this far away from the one next to it! No, no, no! This far!", or the very serious "No, 'Liza. We can't just make it two floors high! It has to be three floors! The princess and the prince are going to have the best room we can make." while Zeki giggled and wiggled at their side made her think they were talking smack about her in their secret language. The cheeky little things.

It was an hour later and the pillow castle was well on its way to completion when Eliza's other charge came to greet her.

Jeremy was a little boy for his 10 years of age and he came almost crashing into the ward through the door and bounding, not quickly but still energetically, over to her when he saw her. He had a massive smile on his face as his momentum, and lack of coordination, brought him crashing into her where she was crouching on the floor. Luckily for the castle, they fell to the side and away from the pillows, however, it wasn't so lucky for Eliza's elbow, which caught the tiled floor as she turned to catch the small bundle of energy flying into her. She chuckled as she sat up, ignoring the slight flare of a soon-to-be bruise, and picked up the squirming child from her lap.

"Hi Jeremy. How are you going today, kiddo?" She asked with a grin.

The garbled noises she got in return, paired with an excited wave of an Iron Man toy she had just noticed in his hand made her smile widen further, though a ball of sadness curled low in her belly.

Jeremy had an enzyme deficiency (the name of which was more a rearrangement of the alphabet to Eliza than an actual word) which caused a variety of issues for him. Besides being unable to communicate verbally, he also had various bone malformations, and had to have enzyme replacements each week. These appointments meant he was hooked up to a bunch of machinery for 8 hours every Monday, and while not a cure for his condition, did a lot to slow down its progression.

Having just arrived for his appointment, he was in high spirits and was excited to see all of his friends again. It was also apparent, he was keen to show off his new toy.

"Oh wow! That's an awesome Iron Man toy!" She told him excitedly. "Is he new?"

He nodded frantically in return and pulled out his mobile phone. He pulled up his communication app and started typing.

She waited patiently for him as she fixed the base of the castle fort and once he was done she read what he showed her. Carly and Zeki were excitedly starting to crawl through the castle and test its integrity so Eliza knew she had a moment to chat with her second charge. Carly was gingerly pulling herself up to the bed level while Zeki was exploring the base level, the one securely on the ground and the one with the most 'rooms' able to be huddled together.

'We were buying a present for my friend's birthday and mum got it for me!' He'd typed.

"Ooh! That's awesome!" She exclaimed. Grinning, she looked down at his shirt with a big screen print of the Ironman armour on it and his light up Ironman glow shoes. "Iron Man's your favourite superhero too isn't he?" She knew the answer but he always got excited when he spoke about Ironman.

As she expected, he started writing frantically on his app, telling her all about the trip to the store and the fact that he got to play in the park after it, and even meeting one of his school friends there!

'It even comes with 2 extra armour sets!' He went on to type. 'When I get home, I'm going to be putting on one of them! It's like a puzzle!'

She grinned. "Woah Iron Man puzzles!?" She started nodding her head thoughtfully while smiling. "They are the best kind of puzzles."

As Jeremy started typing on his phone once again, and Carly and Zeki started playing princes and princesses among the pillows, her thoughts drifted to the disastrous conversation with Mr. Walters on the phone the day prior. She hadn't yet received the confirmation email he said she'd receive but she still had roughly a day or so before she had to follow up.

Iron Man was Eliza's first choice of hero to contact for Jeremy and Zeki's shared wish of 'meeting a superhero' because of Jeremy's absolute adoration for the hero as well as the hero's very public identity. Zeki hadn't really shown a preference for any hero in particular as he reacted with the same vigorous energy to all the heroes when she'd asked and when they came on tv. So as long as they were in their suits, he'd be happy.

Getting in touch with the heroes was the biggest hurdle that Eliza had to face, made only slightly easier by the fact that Stark Industries had made a public method of setting up fundraising or social events. She'd seen pictures of Mr. Stark in his Iron Man suit taking publicity shots with people, both adults and kids, at other hospitals around the country, sometimes even the world, and she figured it would have been easy to get through to the self proclaimed Philanthropist. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was also contactable through Stark Industries according to their website, but she didn't hold out much hope for reaching him if she couldn't get past the first stage of reaching Iron Man.

How was she even supposed to get in touch with another hero? It's not like all the heroes essentially had a hotline to contact them for meet and greets.

A tug on her shirt pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked down again at Jeremy, only to have his phone jammed in her face in his excitement.

'Spiderman was with Iron Man Yesterday in New York! There were super cool pictures and videos on Youtube of them fighting the big robot! Iron Man got really close and Spider Man even ran right past! They're so cool!'

Eliza raised her eyebrows in surprise, "When did this happen? I didn't hear about any fights that the Avengers were called to over the weekend." Though, I was working for half of it trying to get in touch with said hero and then staring despondently at Netflix for the rest of it when I couldn't.

After a few moments of typing, he replied. 'Saturday!! I can show you the video'

At Eliza's nod, he started searching YouTube for it. She took a moment to glance again at Zeki and Carly who were still playing Princes and Princesses. They'd moved from playing hide-and-seek through the castle to a royal tea party in the main room on the 'second floor' (i.e. on the bed rather than the floor).  

It didn't take long before Jeremy had found his video and her attention was brought back to him.

It was a very shaky shot at first, all blurred and out of focus. It was equally likely that the cameraman was either in a rush to get away from the danger, or in a hurry to catch some of the action (self preservation more often than not came after taking the chance to catch the action for the chance of a viral video of the heroes). After a few seconds of the of the blurred sidewalk, the camera's view shifted to a smoky version of the New York skyline, with Stark Tower reaching towards the sky and the Empire State Building in the distance. Rubble from nearby buildings littered the roads and people took shelter in various shops, nooks, and crannies around the street for what seemed to be an almost monthly occurrence at this point.

For a moment, the only sounds that could be made out were voices calling out to take cover or directions for the closest shelter, but then a low whine could be heard getting louder. The camera turned towards the sound and a dark spot in the sky could be seen getting larger, presumably as whatever it was got closer and closer coming from the direction of Stark Tower.

Suddenly, a loud crack and groan drew the cameraman's attention to the right, causing the camera to jostle and then move in that direction. The crack had been from the impact of a large body being thrown into a mess of steel frames outlining a construction site, which, by itself, was disturbing enough despite it having reptilian features and being almost twice the size of a human. Anything described as reptilian while being the size that it was had no business being in this century, let alone taking down construction sites.

As soon as the figure was there, it was gone. A brief shout from the cameraman and a pan to the left showed it had been yanked away and stuck to a wall across the street by what appeared to be a spider's web. A blue and red clad figure swung through the air in the direction of the disturbing lizard-man.

The camera was able to get a surprisingly good view of the swinging form as it passed. For the briefest of moments, it captured the black webbed pattern through the red and blue, and even managed to pick up a few fuzzy tears in the fabric wear blood seeped through. Again, almost as soon as the figure was there, it was gone, swinging up to meet the bad guy of the day head on.

Right behind him, a reddish-gold blur followed, streaking through the air and leaving a trail of smoke behind it. It went by too fast to get a good look at it, but as it got closer to Spider Man and the lizard-man on the side of the structure, it slowed down enough to make out the shape of a very humanoid robot.

The video ended on a frame of Spider Man swinging through the air just as the lizard-man broke free and launched himself up and into the air, Iron Man close behind the newer hero and ready to lend a hand.

It was still quite grainy but a really picturesque screenshot nonetheless and Eliza figured it would be used as a lock screen by many of the superheroes' fans around the world.

Ironman’s assistance brought up a question that she had actually been meaning to find out.

"Does this mean that Spider Man's an Avenger?" She asked the little fan.

After some frantic typing, Jeremy answered, 'No, he just stays in New York. Iron Man offered but he said no :('. At this, Eliza just hummed.

Then, an idea.

New York was Spider Man's base of operations? Perfect.

She'd just found her next contact.

------------------

Her Friday morning found her on a bus to New York City.

The trip to New York was a long and tedious one.

The bus routes from New Jersey to Manhattan were all painfully convoluted and each had their fair share of congestion issues so the total trip took 3 bus changes and roughly five and a half hours.

She'd planned on arriving at the city midmorning so that she'd have a greater chance to walk around and spot the vigilante throughout the day, but she ended up arriving after lunch thanks to a particularly nasty pile up on the freeway just outside the city.

Tumbling out of the bus, she thanked whatever god was around that day that the ride was finished.

She had just spent four and a half hours, shoved right next to a guy who looked like he had spent a night out on the town and smelt of piss, vomit and other bodily fluid she really didn't want to think about. To make it worse, the woman in front of her turned out to be a very loud Karen who had decided that this was to be the bus trip where it would be most beneficial to inform everyone in her general vicinity of the conspiracy theories she had heard of recently. God forbid anyone try to correct her though. Oh no, that would send her on a rant lasting another one of the four hours they were all stuck together and Eliza prayed fervently that no one made that mistake again.

Then, she started to declare that she was being discriminated against because the elderly woman in one of the front rows didn't give Karen the seat and the lady 'had a walker with her so surely she could sit on that!'.

Frick that lady.

Anyway, thankfully that ride from hell was over.

Standing in the middle of the bustling New York sidewalk, however, she realised that she forgot to think of a very important detail.

She had no idea how exactly she was going to go about contacting Spiderman.

Theoretically, she knew that he stayed around the queens area, but that only narrowed it down to about a hundred square miles of the city.

Thankfully her last bus had taken her right into the centre of Queens so she decided to wander around for a bit at least. She hadn't been to New York city before so she figured she'd do a bit of sight seeing and hope to see Spidey at some stage.

This method proved to be enjoyable for a time, and she had great fun taking pictures of 'Queens: Home of the Amazing Spiderman'. However, after three hours of seeing the sights but not seeing any signs of Spider Man, she was starting to get a bit antsy.

She had realised before she'd even set out that she most likely wouldn't see him on the first day, after all it was barely four o'clock in the afternoon and she was pretty certain he had a day job that took up his daylight hours. She'd hyped herself up for the encounter for most of the day though, and it was still a bit of a disappointment regardless of the logic.

Six hours of wandering later she admitted defeat. Friday was a bust, but she had high hopes for the weekend.

Sadly, Saturday turned out similarly to the previous day; some lovely sightseeing and tourist opportunities she hadn't had time for the previous day and no Spidey sighting. She had tried asking people around the area if they knew how or where she could find Spiderman but they'd mostly given her a brief, very judgy, once-over and a very generalised 'He sticks to Queens mostly.', or 'he's usually out around this time.', or the most useful one of all; 'if you need him, he'll find you.'

She couldn't say she blamed them for being hesitant to explain. She was a somewhat short, gangly, woman, who looked more like a teenager with her scruffy backpack and wide rimmed glasses than her actual 22 years, and very obviously not from New York. Hell, the locals probably got fangirls that looked similar to her looking for Spiderman on a weekly basis.

Honestly, she admired their loyalty to their local vigilante, it just made it a bit more difficult to do what she came there for. She hadn't lasted 3 months, over 20 phone calls, an eternity on the bus ride from hell, and two days of wandering around, just to be stumped by some city searching though, so she marched on.

It was late Sunday afternoon and many glances down suspicious alleyways later that Eliza had a breakthrough in her search for the local vigilante. It came in the form of a group of drunk guys and an ignored catcall (which the aforementioned drunk guys apparently took as a challenge).

She hadn't thought much of just ignoring the tottering group as she'd passed them, it was after all an unfortunately common experience and not the first time that day, let alone weekend. What wasn't a common experience, however, was the sound of uneven foot steps and increasingly boisterous attempts at getting her attention as she moved down the street.

It wasn't quite dark yet but it didn't take away from the rising sense of panic that sped up both her heartrate and her steps. Interestingly enough, her increased speed didn't deter the group, if anything it seemed to encourage them. She cursed her lack of knowledge of the area, avoiding looking at Google maps in order to keep her eyes on her environment.

After a few blocks of power walking, an ill-timed red light and road work stopped her in her tracks and allowed the group to catch up with her.

"Heey girl!" One drawled.  "Come on, we just wanna say hi."

His friend stumbled along beside him slurring "Yeah, why ya gotta be so ru-ude? Juss' tryna give a compl'm-nt!" He hiccoughed and slumped just a bit more on another in the group.

She kept her eyes trained forward, directed to the traffic light but just out of focus enough to observe the drunken antics on her peripheral. She knew New York city was famous for its creeps but this was getting out of hand. Just the situation she was hoping to avoid; Alone at night with a group of men following her.

Sure, Spider Man patrolled this area, but she'd seen neither hide nor hair – nor web – of the guy in the days she'd been here and she wasn't too thrilled about putting her safety on the line to just have a slim chance of seeing him.

Her silence seemed to just egg the guys on, encouraging them to get closer and more obnoxious. What had previously been at a distance was now up close and within reach. Her hands tightened on her bag straps and her breath stuttered as she noticed their movements tilting towards her, stopping just short of actually touching.

Everything was just slightly out of focus as the sun was almost completely gone by now, leaving only the glow of the street lights and the pin-pricked lights of the passing cars to provide an eerie illumination of her entourage. It put her on edge more than it would have in the daylight, even if there were just as many people lining the street. No one had come to her aid, and most likely wouldn't have in the daylight either, so she resigned herself to tensely waiting for the change of traffic signal. The feeling of hyperawareness was a feeling that would linger and probably leave her too agitated to sleep that night.

"C'mon girl!" A third guy crooned patronisingly, propping his drooping friend up from a stumble. "Just give us a smile!"

Just to spite him, she scowled.

"Awww! Look! She can hear us!" Another hollered. "Smile! C'mon, smile! You'd look soooo much prettier! At leeast say hellloooo!"

The beeping of the crosswalk signal was her saviour in that moment and as soon as she heard it, she was off, practically jogging across the road. Unfortunately, that just happened to be the moment that someone decided that they were above the road rules for driving and that they needed to run a red light. Directly towards the crosswalk she was running across.

She was two steps off the sidewalk and mid-step when she heard a scream behind her and caught a brief glimpse of headlights to her left before she realised her mistake. Years of listening to her mother drill into her to look both directions before crossing the road flashed in her mind.

Everything seemed to fall into slow motion as she turned her head towards the light, the dark shadow behind the lights loomed closer and closer. She felt her eyes widen and her foot move through the air as if through molasses for split second and she had only a moment before a thought flashed through her mind.

Well...damn.  

A sudden weight crashing into her diaphragm punched the air from her lungs and caused her head to snap forward and her legs to trail in her wake as she flew through the air. She instinctively shut her eyes and tensed at the impact, the pain from the car taking a moment to register to her shocked mind, though the wind at her back as she flew through the air was mildly soothing. She was pretty sure that when she crashed into the ground, the pain would come through and be even worse.

A few seconds passed and, when she didn't feel the jagged impact on the ground and the wind continued to whistle past her ears and whip up her hair into what was going to be a definite birds nest, she realised  that the impact she had felt wasn't the front bumper of a car but instead an arm. It was an arm that had apparently swung out of nowhere and was still wrapped securely around her torso as it, or rather they, swung through the air and away from the middle of the street she was nearly flattened in.

She looked down at the arm and saw a sliver of red and blue...just before her eyes noted the fact that they were approximately four to five storeys above the ground and going faster than the cars below them. She would have screamed but her breath caught in her throat as they started dropping and getting closer and closer to the pavement below so she contented herself with clutching at the only lifeline she had. She briefly hoped that she hadn't left finger shaped bruises on her saviour's arm in her panic (as she was sure that would be poor rescue etiquette) but she realised later that, considering he dealt with troublemakers such as the Rhino and Electro, bruises would most likely be fine, if not non-existent.  

As they swung, she could faintly hear a consistent stream of chatter coming from behind her. The voice sounded young, excited and carefree.

"It's ok ma'am, I got you. Just hold on and we'll be on the ground before you know it." He whooped when they crested another swing - contrasting her own urge to either puke or scream - and continued the stream of babble as the wind rushed past her ears. She thought she heard a few questions, but she didn't answer on account of the mild terror thrumming through her veins.

They touched down in front of a well lit strip mall surprisingly lightly considering they were going over 30 miles an hour less than a minute beforehand. Eliza was glad for the iron grip maintaining its hold on her after their landing as she knew she would be a shaky puddle on the floor had she been placed down and let go of immediately. She locked her knees to prevent them from crumpling and took a moment to breathe and mentally kiss the ground beneath her.

The arm around her slowly pulled away when she stayed standing so she slowly turned around to make eye contact with her rescuer. Well... Eye-to-mask eye contact. Her heart practically beat out of her chest from nerves and whether it was because of the drunk guys, the near death experience, or from simply meeting one of the famous heroes, she wasn't sure. Truth be told, the combination of all three would probably give her a heart attack if she took the time to think about it.

She had barely turned around before she was being spoken to by the figure in the famous red and blue costume, his hands coming up to steady her as she stumbled back slightly from being closer then she'd thought.

"Oh my gosh! That was a close one! That car came out of nowhere, are you ok?" She nodded, tongue still stuck on the roof of her mouth, not that it seemed to matter to the superhero. He seemed pretty content to talk a million miles an hour even without her input. "You look alright. I mean, the swinging can be a bit terrifying the first time you do it, but better that than being hit by the car." The eyes on his mask narrowed a bit and he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Actually, you look a bit pale and Karen says yo-I mean, I think you might be going into shock. Here sit down for a bit."

She was gently nudged to a set of stairs and she sat down gratefully.

"Thanks Spider Man." She sighed and relaxed as much as she could onto the cold concrete.

"No problem!" He replied. She couldn't really tell because of his mask, but it sounded like he was grinning.

"Bloody hell." Eliza sighed again, dropping her head into her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. "That's the last time I cross the road without looking, even if I do need to get away from creeps."

"Yeah, checking the road is always a good idea." Spider Man agreed. "As for the creeps, you could try carrying around some pepper spray?" She snorted.

"Yeah, like looking down and rummaging through my bag is a good idea when surrounded. Aren't you supposed to suggest I keep my eyes and ears alert, avoid badly lit locations, and always walk with a friend?"

Now it was his turn to splutter. "W-well yeah... I guess that would kinda defeat the purpose of keeping your eyes on your surroundings." He scratched his head almost sheepishly before continuing, his tone turning fervent. "It is useful if you happen to be able to get it though! I once saw this lady spray this guy in the face and he was still rolling on the ground after I came back to check on him after I walked the lady home! I didn't realise how useful the pepper sprays were until that day!"  

Eliza could only grin at his earnestness. She could already feel the erratic beat of her heart calm into a more sedate pace and her breathing even out as they spoke. It was great to see someone trying their best to help and give advice on staying safe, all hints of superiority absent in his tone.

"If you're feeling better, would you like me to walk you home?" He asked suddenly. The offer made Eliza release some extra tension she didn't realised she still had.

She nodded. "That would be great actually. I'm staying in a hotel somewhere around here."

"Cool, I can definitely take you back!" He was already standing and excitedly bouncing. Geez, he had a lot of energy. "What hotel are you staying in?" When she told him, he nodded again. "Ok, that's not far from here. Do you feel alright enough to start walking?"

"Sure. I could do with a really hot bath right about now." Eliza said, taking Spider Man's hand he offered as she spoke. She idly ran her hand through her tangled hair. "And a brush by the feels of it."

Spider Man laughed and they started walking down the street.

"So where are you from?" He asked.  

"I'm visiting from New Jersey." She paused, realising suddenly that this is her chance. She took a deep breath. "I, uh, actually came to New York to find out if you could help me with something." Spider Man turned to her and with his face covered she couldn’t tell if he wanted her to continue or not. So she too another breath and continued anyway. "You see, I've been trying to get in touch with a superhero, any superhero, for a few months now and I haven't had any luck. I've met you though today so... yay!" Jazz hands added for good measure. "I could have done without the almost-getting-run-over part, but hey, if it means I get to finally ask you about seeing the kids then I'll take it I suppose."

She really could have done without the 'almost getting assaulted and then flattened' part of the evening but considering he hadn't outright declined immediately, she was counting it as a win.

He continued to stare at her, making Eliza desperate for a verbal response as she could not read his reactions with his bloody mask on. "Well, it'll depend what it is. If you want my help to take over the world, I'm sorry, but you'll have to find someone else." He said playfully. Eliza laughed, almost in relief.

"No nothing like that." She said waving her hand. "Just want some help making a couple of kids' remaining years enjoyable."  At this, Spider Man seemed to take more of a keen interest so she elaborated. "I work with the Make-A-Wish Foundation and I have a couple of kids who would love to meet a superhero." Her tone had turned soft as it usually did when she was talking about the kids.

He seemed to perk up even more, if that was even possible. "Oh really? That's so cool! I mean, it's really cool that you thought of me! I'd love to meet the kids! I'd have to run it by Mr. Sta- I mean, Tony, but it should be fine!" He was almost shaking now and she could practically see the excitement rolling off him in waves. When his words registered though, she couldn't help but sag a little in relief.

"Awesome. It's been a long few days." she said with a chuckle, rubbing her temples while trying to keep her eyes on him just in case he disappeared. "You're really hard to find."

Spiderman tilted his head to the side as they walked, "Really? I thought there was, like, an Instagram or Facebook page following me?" He said, making it sound more like a question than a statement. Eliza stared at him for a moment and he rubbed his head. "I can't remember if there's a twitter page, but I know for certain that there's an Instagram page that likes to keep up with me and they do a surprisingly good job of it too." Eliza mentally facepalmed. Of course social media would have the answers. Spidey fans have some of the best content and the most up-to-date info on their hero (second only to Tony Stark and that's only because Mr. Stark's been around longer and is a literal billionaire) since the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman is so directly active in his community.

"Oh. Right. I completely forgot about that." Came her tired sigh. "Geez, I feel like such a failure of a millenial. I mean, what kind of millennial forgets about bloody Twitter and Instagram?"  

Spider Man laughed quietly, "It's fine. I know a few people at sc-work... who aren't on social media. Not many, but a few." After a moment, he asked, "So what are the kids like? Is Spider Man their favourite Superhero? I know I'm only kind of an Avenger, so it's cool they want to meet me!"

She snorted, "Are you kidding? Only 'kind of an Avenger'? Your battle last week with the lizard guy was on Youtube and you were working so well with Iron Man! One of the kids was practically vibrating out of his seat in excitement when he was showing me."

"Oh, you mean the one with both Mr. Stark and me going past? Yeah, that was a pretty good shot of us, we looked so cool at the end, it even stopped on a cool pose!"

As he continued enthusiastically, Eliza giggled. He almost reminded her of some of the kids. Energetic, easy to entertain and constantly bouncing between topics. Idly, she wondered how old Spider Man was. He didn't sound much older than her, and his energy....

"You know, Mr. Stark might be interested in meeting them too. I know he goes to a lot of charity functions." Eliza thought she heard him mumble, "He sure complains about them often enough." But she wasn't sure.

The comment made her crash back into the present. She felt her shoulders slump.

"Yeah. I tried getting in touch with him through the Maria Stark Foundation, but it didn't work out."

Spider Man seemed to frown at her tone, made obvious only by the slight narrowing of his eye lens things. "Really? How come?"

Sighing, she recounted her long and overly complicated phone journey through the bureaucratic chain of the Maria Stark Foundation and Stark Industries, followed by her brief but greatly disappointing interaction with Mr. Michael Walters. She was pretty positive this was going well and she could see her hotel across the street now so she let herself relax a bit. Suddenly feeling drained and really tired, she had to stop herself from stumbling the last of the distance to the building.

"I mean, it's understandable I suppose, the security that is. I get that Mr. Stark has a lot of enemies and I want what's best for the kids, so the safer the better." As she finished, she realised she probably sounded a bit whiny to one of the superheros that the safety protocols directly affected. At this point of the night however, she didn't have it in her to care all that much, not to mention, Spider Man was nodding encouragingly beside her. "At the same time though, I'm on a...bit of a time limit, you could say."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just, one of the kids I'm organising the meeting for has a progressive illness and, to be honest..." She paused, sadness filling her as she fiddled with the frayed end of her jacket's sleeve.

They'd come up to the main entrance to her hotel by now and she momentarily contemplated if it was really a good idea to bring it up, but she was fast running out of fucks to give and desperately wanted something good to come out of this hell-trip, "it's just...not very likely he'd make it the 18 months Mr. Walters said we had to wait. If anything, we're not sure if he'll make it to the end of this month."

Silence.

She looked at him and she saw him staring at her, lenses wide and standing eerily still beside her, his head cocked to the side.

After a moment, all he said was, "You know what? I'll talk to Mr. Stark. I'll see what we can do." And he swung away. Staring at the empty space beside her, it took a second for her to realise she was suddenly alone again. She hadn't even given him her number.

Still in shock and with fatigue starting to sit heavily on her bones, she shook herself and made her way toward the door, numbly figuring she was going to have to think of a different way to meet another superhero.

Eliza only had to wait two days before her life-risking journey paid off.

[bensboynton]

the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody. 

Until today. 

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions. 

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone. 

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place. 

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop. 

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her. 

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book. 

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it. 

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman. 

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly. 

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day. 

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it. 

Y/N has never truly been in love. 

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies. 

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.” 

That’s what she said every time. 

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye. 

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life? 

And then he showed up. 

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop. 

Until one day, she didn’t anymore. 

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake. 

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever. 

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose. 

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her. 

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading. 

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her. 

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago. 

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound. 

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.” 

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.” 

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say. 

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation. 

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.” 

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him. 

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” 

She grinned at his eagerness. 

--

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve. 

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left. 

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number. 

--

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store. 

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye. 

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu. 

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor. 

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.” 

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment. 

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.  

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time. 

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?” 

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand. 

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.” 

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

--

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things. 

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell. 

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much. 

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.” 

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker. 

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was. 

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life. 

--

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration). 

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time. 

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that. 

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day. 

Y/N and Ben got very close. 

Insanely close. 

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts). 

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben. 

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben. 

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more. 

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left. 

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben. 

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news. 

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news. 

He was leaving. 

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.” 

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk. 

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?”��

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.” 

--

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other. 

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose. 

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that. 

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her. 

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving. 

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant. 

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen. 

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks. 

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something. 

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her. 

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do. 

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up. 

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door. 

Ben. 

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace. 

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain. 

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.” 

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons. 

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-” 

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months. 

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly. 

It felt like they were made to be together. 

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle. 

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore. 

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep. 

Slowly, then all at once.