#And she had a worse childhood than I did and is a Christian again now! Like what the actual fuck! How can you possibly bear to do that!

[thevaleriaxortiz]

[cisfemale, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [VALERIA "VAL" ORTIZ]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [CHRISTIAN SERRATOS]. You must be the [THIRTY-FIVE] year old [WAITSTAFF AT FOUR LEAF PUB]. Word is you’re [HELPFUL] but can also be a bit [DEFENSIVE] and your favorite song is [DEAR READER BY TAYLOR SWIFT]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [FISHER'S COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 

tw: emotional neglect, dubcon, prostitution, daddy issues?

@aurorabayaesthetic

Valeria Mariana Ortiz was the firstborn of five children and as such, is the only one of the Ortiz kids to remember a before. A before the other kids were born, a before their father lost their job, a before they all became this broken family 'unit' that all her siblings had ever known. Her brother, Bruno, was born just a year after her and he would have remembered it all too, but given that he ran away when he was only thirteen...Valeria would never know for certain.

She was eight when Asher was born, and pretty much all of Val's positive childhood memories revolved around her little brother. She adored him, and her mother did too, but just a couple short years later (Ash was barely even out of diapers) their father lost his job and after that, everything became an after for Valeria. After their father lost his job and he spiraled into a pit of depression, Valeria made it her mission to help as best she could. At only ten years old, she tried to keep their home tidy, helped cook dinners, took care of her brothers when daycares and babysitters couldn't. She tried to be as small and as quiet as possible, to be as little a burden as she could to her poor mother who was definitely feeling the strain with the three mouths to feed and the little hours she managed to get at her waitressing job. It went on like that for years too, Val putting her brothers and their home first to try and give their mother one less thing to worry about- especially as their father's unemployment finally ran out and he had zero prospects in sight.

Another After was when she was fourteen and her brother Bruno ran away, drawers empty and no notes left behind. She still wonders if he's even still alive. Wonders if Bruno thinks the same of them. The loss of their eldest son put even more of a strain on the Ortiz family. It made their father spiral even more, drinking heavily, gambling. He was never really abusive to her and Asher, but almost worse, he was just...never there. Not really anyways. Never in ways that counted. So without an older brother and now without a father, Valeria was more determined than ever to try and be there for her remaining brother, Asher. She took care of him when he was sick, made sure homework was done and food was eaten and teeth were brushed. They loved their mother (Ash especially was a momma's boy) but for all intents and purposes, Valeria was the mom. It was a role she took seriously all throughout high school, and it was something she just doubled down on when their mother became pregnant again, and this time with twins.

Carmen and Lydia were born when Asher was nine and Valeria was seventeen, and what started as just parenting her brother when she could, became Val's entire life with two new babies in their ever-shrinking mobile home. Their father never bothered getting another job, clearly sufficing on his wife's paycheck and foodstamps, but with the babies now around, Valeria knew she had no other choice but to be around more--which meant dropping out of high school halfway through her junior year, giving up college and her education as a whole in favor of helping their mother and her younger siblings.

Being home full-time, when she wasn't helping with the twins, Val was trying to help make money. She did little jobs here and there- more babysitting, stints at fast-food places, any place that would take a teenagers without even a diploma. One sure-fired way she found to make easy cash too one night, was selling sex for money. It wasn't exactly how she'd imagined her life (she'd lost her virginity at sixteen to her boyfriend at the time that whispered pretty things to her and promised forever only to break up a few months later) and she wasn't exactly comfortable sleeping with strangers and feeling like an object, but it helped pay the bills easily--especially if she'd go to parties a few towns over and whisper her own pretty little lies about her virginity. Men emptied their pockets fairly quickly to try and say they were some teenaged girl's first. Served them right.

But even that extra cash wasn't always enough and apparently Asher realized it too. Valeria didn't even know how he was getting the extra money and food at first until one night she got a call from their county jail to come pick him up for shoplifting. Annoyed, Val used money she'd been stashing away (all her earned cash was hidden in her room, while the money she made from the McDonalds in town went straight to her parents) and she bailed him out on the promise that he'd tell her just what the hell he'd been up to. Valeria was disappointed, she was upset that he felt the need to be doing things like this to help, but..ultimately, she didn't stop him. Especially since the two of them together were definitely managing to bring home enough extra food and money to keep their family afloat.

It went on like that for a while (albeit with a few hiccups, like Asher getting in bigger trouble that resulted in house arrest and an ankle monitor, not allowing him to do his extra curricular) but overall they managed like that for years, Valeria's twenties going by in a blur of working and raising children that weren't hers and trying to have a life of her own but failing miserably because no one wanted to stay around for more than a couple of dates and a few decent rounds of sex with someone whose life was as messy as hers. But whatever. She had more important things to deal with. She and Asher's lives had clearly gone down the tubes but Val was adamant to have her baby sisters do better. She made sure they did well in school and didn't stray, made sure they didn't feel the need to help with money as well.

She was in her early 30's when the next shake-up in their lives happened, with Asher just...up and leaving. He'd done it before where he disappeared for a few days, but he always came back. Not this time though. Valeria was angry and she was hurt because for years it'd always been them two keeping the peace, and now it was just on her. But as hurt as she was...she couldn't deny the bit of relief she felt too. Relief that he was finally getting away, relief that he'd maybe get to live a more normal life- a peaceful life. And a bit of relief that he was one less person she needed to take care of. The twins were almost fifteen by then, so they weren't totally helpless, but without Asher there, Val admittedly felt a bit off-kilter but she kept on trying, kept on doing her own odd-jobs while occasionally prostituting on the side when funds were low.

Finally this year though, when things got shaken up, they were for the better. All her hard work on the twins paid off, they'd both been offered scholarships to schools far, far away from Arizona and they both eagerly accepted. Her mother, now with all her children grown, finally felt secure enough to divorce her father and leave, and Valeria, her mother and her sisters combined all but forced her to go too. She'd sacrificed her entire life to keep theirs going, and now, freshly-turned 35 just a couple weeks ago, was finally given the opportunity to live life for herself.

Over the years Asher had been gone, he sent letters and postcards, the sporadic payphone call when he remembered, just assuring her he was alive and safe. The last card she'd gotten from him had been a few months ago, from a little beach town in California. Aurora Bay. It seemed decent enough. So with a shoebox full of cash and her life piled up in some old duffle bags, Valeria finally left Scottsdale at the beginning of the new year, off to see the ocean for the first time, to live for the first time, and maybe find her brother again along the way.

extras:

birthday- december 1st

nicknames- val, valé, ortiz

fluent in english and spanish

had her own case of sticky fingers growing up, but usually left the stealing to asher.

never got her GED or went back to school, only has an education up to the 11th grade.

appearance:

long dark hair

height - 5′6

chipped black nails, red lipstick stains on cigarette butts

lots of black, denim, oversized plaid shirts, boots, ripped fishnets, tequila and cheap vanilla perfume

#aurorabay.intro #bio

[resignedseraph]

I can’t possibly imagine spending eternity with someone who saw me being abused in a cult as a child and though “yeah no I’m not gonna do jack shit about that”

Like.... why does anyone thing I would want to do that.

#Needless to say I realized I have some abandonment issues #and I’m also very bitter towards the whole idea of God #I don’t think he’s there in the first place but assuming he was I would rather endure Hell. Literally. #Therapy was shit today and I ended up getting in an argument and being triggered because my therapist tried to idk persuade me that #God wasn’t in fact an abusive ass #And she had a worse childhood than I did and is a Christian again now! Like what the actual fuck! How can you possibly bear to do that! #anyway #I’m tired #and bitter #Esrah talks #heaven tw #child abuse tw #abuse tw #abuse mention #ex cult #ex christian #ex baptist #ex fundamentalist #exvangelical #ex evangelical #ex fundie #exvie #religious trauma #religious abuse

[humans4vampires]

I caught some of your meta on your posts and I peeped around and saw a little Hardin Scott commentary. I saw you unpack this a bit in a chat but I want to hear more so I’ll ask again: If we sub out Jacob for Hardin, who would Bella pick? Edward or Hardin?

Wow, okay. Let's unpack!

I'd say it really depends on the situation; whether or not we're merging plot lines from both series or if we're just hard-swapping Hardin for Jacob in the Twilight Saga. I have so much to say about the two universes colliding, which I would dare say would have a different outcome and a much more compelling storyline, but since you asked this question specifically, I'll just cover what I think would happen if we swapped Jacob Black for Hardin Scott, cold-turkey, without any other peripheral character changes or introductions.

Edward Cullen versus Hardin Black (neé Scott)

Hardin Black is angsty, a little aggressive, and very popular amongst his friends and peers. He's charming, enough so that he's charmed the pants off of most of the girls his age, so he's quite sexually experienced by the time he meets his childhood friend, Bella Swan when she returns to Forks to live with her father.

Charlie Swan knows Hardin well enough to know he doesn't want him hanging around his teenage daughter, but his dear friend, Billy Black hopes that Bella might be a good influence on his gruff son. Charlie keeps a close watch on them when they're together, though he quickly assures himself that Hardin won't be pulling any tricks on his daughter.

Bella and Hardin were a volatile pair together, and both had no issue telling the other what they thought of them. Hardin found Bella to be a boring, plain-Jane, goody-goody, which only was made more apparent in her choice of a boyfriend; the incredibly tame and aggravatingly perfect, Edward Cullen. Over a fish-fry dinner with Billy and Hardin, Bella made a passing comment about Edward to Charlie, to which Hardin's response was, "Even worse than the Newton kid."

Bella saw Hardin as a fuck-boy, to be entirely honest. To her, he was rude and crass, spent too much of his time looking for destructive things to do. And once Edward came into the picture, she saw all of Hardin's flaws in direct comparison to her perfect gentleman in Edward.

Things changed, though, when Edward left Bella in the time during New Moon. Bella spent months essentially catatonic before discovering her new-found passion for adrenaline charging adventurism. Who better to create chaos with than Hardin?

Now, here's where some things take a turn. Hardin isn't interested in wholesome 'fun' like our sweetie pie, Jacob Black. Hardin drinks and parties and stirs up trouble. Bella falls in with Hardin, but does a good job of leveling him out a bit. They bond over their shared love of classic literature and spend their days recovering from their wild teenage nights by reading passages to each other on an old quilt on the beach in La Push.

Eventually, the two build a strong and trusting relationship, full of witty teasing and more balanced joy. They spend less and less of their time with friends at parties and more and more time alone. Bella proves to be a good equalizer for Hardin and Hardin a good measure of happiness for Bella. The two do end up having sex and continue to have a sexual relationship leading up to the time Hardin transforms into a werewolf.

Both Bella and Hardin manage to help each other with a lot of their varying emotional baggage, and in many ways, they are able to supplement each other well. Hardin's fear of abandonment is well cared for in Bella's over-attentiveness and need to be the "parent," while this quality in Bella is better balanced by Hardin's more carefree and narcissistic tendencies. In this, I mean to say that Hardin encourages Bella to let loose and think of herself first - which becomes even more liberating for Bella when the two begin their sexual relationship.

I'll pause here to unpack this more: I'm not just putting in this saucy tad-bit for your reading pleasure. You cannot have Hardin as a character without the sexual chemistry with the female protagonist. At his core, he's still an adaptation of Christian Grey and Harry Styles. This is not a comment on Harry Styles' sexual prowess, just to be clear - but Christian Grey is sex personified, and thus, is Hardin Scott (or Black, in this case). Which is so interesting to think about, considering Christian Grey is just an adaptation of Edward Cullen, thus, Hardin has enough at his core to be a strong contender for Bella. And, Bella Swan, at her core, is very in-tune with her sexuality. Stephenie Meyer may not be overly colorful with Bella's lustfulness, but it's obvious and apparent throughout the series. Bella and Hardin would have sex eventually and this would complicated things for the both of them, especially when Edward returns.

Now, as the whole werewolf thing unfolds and Bella is forced, by Hardin, to separate from him, the gravity of their relationship and their sexual encounters pushes Bella to another breaking point. She feels rejected and isolated with Hardin distancing himself and the feeling that she loses Edward the more she let's Hardin in hits her harder in Hardin's absence. Not to mention, her relationship with Hardin isn't exactly as easy-breezy beautiful, Cover Girl, like her relationship with the subbed-out Jacob was. Jacob, remember, is very go-with-the-flow, sunshine with a candy-coating sweet - and Hardin is very much not. All of those character flaws that make Hardin who he is are still there. Their relationship is tumultuous, which makes Bella question herself and exacerbates her insecurities.

There's not much time between the two reuniting after the werewolf is out of the bag -Get it? like the 'cat out of the bag?'- and when Bella leaves for Italy to save Edward. This moment triggers Hardin's abandonment issues big time and this is the moment Bella spends the next three books trying to overcome with Hardin. She does come back with Edward and she does continue her relationship as she did in Eclipse and Breaking Dawn, but with the added layer of sexual history and intense chemistry with Hardin throughout the rest of the saga, Bella struggles much more with her feelings for both men. Sex complicates things in a big way and definitely proved her feelings for Hardin very early on in the saga.

This also adds so much more complexity to her relationship with Edward, who very much knows what happened while he was away and very much blames himself for how Bella and Hardin's relationship developed - as he did with Bella and Jacob.

Ultimately, do I think that Bella would choose Hardin over Edward in the end? No. But Hardin does present a compelling swap that I'd say could keep you truly wondering if she was going to change her mind at any point.

I would like to assert here that Renesmee should never have happened like that and I will not even discuss the repercussions.

In the end, Bella would choose Edward for all the things that Hardin is not and cannot be; a perfect God-like creature that shifted her entire perspective of what life was and what life could be. Hardin, or Jacob, could never compete with that.

But the saga would have been so much more dynamic with the tension and the complexity that sex brings to a love story. Imagine Bella tossing and turning at night, Edward agonizing over hearing Hardin's name on her lips. Imagine Edward being tormented by Hardin's mental replays of his nights with Bella every time he looks at her. Imagine how much more conflicted Edward would be about his sexual relationship with Bella! The added complexity of his feelings of her being with Hardin and being nervous!! Oh, I can't even go into that right now...

It would make so much more sense for him to want to commit to her in marriage too! He'd want to solidify their love in a new and different way than she had with Hardin. And it would probably be the reason Bella would agree to it.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

#Edward cullen #bella swan #hardin scott #after we collided #after we fell #jacob black #twilight fic #twilightsaga #twilight imagine #the twilight saga #Bella x hardin #bella x edward #edward x bella #bella x jacob #jacob x bella #new moon #bookofthels

[author-morgan]

I really love your Eivor stories! If you’re thank requests would you be able to do an arranged marriage story - where Eivor and a Anglo Saxon princess have to marry to unite their clans and at first their not happy about but when they meet they get along, especially on the wedding night 😉 - thank you! x

♥ Here you are! I hope you like it (sorry for the wait). 

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

EIVOR AND HIS brother, Sigurd, stand before Ceolmund —a powerful Saxon king crowned with the aid of the Norsemen standing before him. Now King Ceolmund of Lothian wishes to secure a lasting alliance with the Raven Clan, one that would not fade at the hands of time. It is marriage the new king speaks of. A marriage between his only beloved daughter and one of the men who laid a crown and kingdom at his feet.

Ceolmund looks to Sigurd to accept, but he shakes his head and dips his shoulders forward in a display of genuflection. “I cannot accept this gracious offer, lord, for I am bound to another already–” Sigurd’s gaze falls upon Eivor “–but my brother…”

He is cut off by Eivor, pulling harshly on the baldric securing his greatsword. “What are you doing?” Eivor hisses under his breath. He had come to secure an alliance and crown another Saxon king who’d look upon the Danes and Norse in favor —not to marry a stranger with no forewarning and on his brother’s whim.

Sigurd turns, his gaze sharp. A curt reminder that he is Jarl of the Raven Clan, not Eivor. “Calm yourself, brother,” he snaps. There’s a pause, heavy with silence, and Sigurd’s smile turns into that of a serpent’s. “It’s past time you wed anyway. Don’t you think?” Eivor glares at his brother, but Sigurd ignores the harsh look and turns back to King Ceolmund. “My brother,” he starts, motioning to the warrior standing to his right, “the honorable Eivor Wolf-kissed, will accept.”

Ceolmund rises from his throne, stepping onto the short dais —arms outstretched toward Eivor. “I should hear it from thine own lips,” he says, meeting Eivor’s uneasy gaze. What he is asking is no small task, but with Sigurd’s hasty acceptance, he has hope Eivor will follow his Jarl’s wishes. In truth, a piece of him is relieved it is Eivor Wolfsmal and not Sigurd. “Will you forge the bonds of an alliance and lasting friendship between our peoples through marriage to my daughter?”

“You honor me, lord,” Eivor tells Ceolmund with a knot forming in his throat, making it hard to speak. He bows his head. “I accept your offer of an alliance through marriage.”

MARRIAGE, THE WORD sits bitterly on your tongue after your father, King Ceolmund of Lothian, comes to visit your chambers in a decaying Roman fortress. “Mother would be ashamed!” You spit, fraught with the sudden news of your impending marriage to a heathen —a matter in which you had no say. “Using me as a bartering piece. A pawn in your games.” You’d trusted your father.

“He’s a good man,” your father refutes. Throughout three moons, he felt he had come to know the man who would marry his daughter —an honest man who wished to do right by his people and protect them even if it meant shedding blood and sweat for quarrels that were not his own. Ceolmund could not ask for a better man —Christian or pagan— to marry his daughter. 

You would rather be sworn to the likes of King Aelfred than one of the godless invaders crawling over England. “He’s a heathen!” You cry. “A barbarian!” 

Ceolmund pinches the bridge of his nose, drawing in a long breath. There will be a feast tonight to celebrate his coronation, where he will make the announcement and begin wedding preparations. He will not ask you to feign happiness, only civility. “Please,” Ceolmund says, holding your shaking hands, “all I ask is that you do not insult our new position or friends tonight.” But even that seemed to be a hefty request now. 

“Princess,” Eivor greets, his clear blue gaze kind and voice softened by a cup of ale. “If I may have a word?” Across the table, your father nods, imploring you to take leave of the feast to speak with the man you’d be marrying in less than a fortnight. You lay your hand in Eivor’s as you rise and follow him from the keep, into the cool air of a spring night to a bench facing a northern vista with snowcapped hills far off in the distance. A frown purses his lips as he sees despair mingled with fear overtake your expression —like a newly caged bird who lost her song. “I know you are not happy with this arrangement,” he starts, gaining your attention. From his tone, you can tell he is not particularly happy either, “but know I will not harm you, and I will protect you until the Valkyries summon me home.” 

You trace the sharp features of his face, lingering on the deep scar across his cheek. In your contemplative silence, Eivor reaches for one of your hands —gently holding it within his own, a soft assurance that his words had been sincere. His fingers are rough from long years of work and fighting, and when he folds them around your hand, it makes you feel small —feeble, even. “You are not what I expected, Eivor,” you note, adverting your gaze. 

“What did you expect?” Eivor asks, curious to know if he and his people had been the monsters in the bedtime tales your mother used to tell. It seemed a common thing across England for Norse and Danes to be made out as devils, or worse. 

“I would spare you from my initial thoughts,” you note, quietly with the color of shame on your cheeks, “for now they feel foolish.” Indeed, you were told stories of the Northmen as a child —that they were bloodthirsty, godless barbarians who raped and pillaged across the countryside. While every story had a grain of truth, Eivor Wolfsmal only desires what is best for his people —strong alliances, good friends, fertile land, and a place to rest his head. You lay your hand atop his, offering a reserved smile. “Know you have eased my mind and heart this night.”

EIVOR STEALS YOU away in the afternoon from your loom and threads, leading you to the edge of the mark and a field of wildflowers. A quiet place compared to the bustling streets of Edinburgh —the seat of Lothian— amid celebrations and preparations. Eivor speaks of his childhood with Sigurd, laughing at the foolish things he’d done as a boy. Eivor’s laugh is charming —a low rumble from deep in his chest— and his smile contagious. 

You tell of the time you and a dear friend used boiled wine for an awful prank on your poor mother. Even on her deathbed, you wondered if she ever forgave you for using the wine as fake blood when you stumbled into her solar, holding the hilt of a broken sword against your stomach. 

He spins the stem of a yellow wildflower between his thumb and forefinger as he tells you of his gods. Curiosity had won over you after hearing brief stories from people in the markets about Thor, Loki, and Odin. Eivor leans forward, tucking the flower behind your ear, finishing the tale of Odin’s sacrifice for knowledge after consulting with the embalmed head of Mímir. “He gave his eye?” Eivor nods, and you cringe at the thought of having to pluck your own eye out. 

From above, a raven swoops down, landing on Eivor’s shoulder. His name is Sýnin, and he has been Eivor’s companion for many years. You reach to stroke his oil-slick feathers and are rewarded with a low, gurgling croak before he takes flight again in the light of the setting sun. 

Eivor reclines, arms folded behind his head —looking up at the sky. You lay back too and compelled by a moment of boldness you rest your head on his chest. The fading blue linen tunic he wears in lieu of his leather armor is soft against your cheek. Eivor stiffens at first, then relaxes though a part of him wonders if you can hear his heart beating faster. After a moment of passing silence, he drapes one of his arms across your middle. Above, the sky begins to shift from the soft orange and pinks of sunset to deep indigo. “What do your gods tell you of the stars?”

EIVOR TAKES THE piece of linen from your hands, shaking his head. “You should not have to tend my wounds, princess,” he notes, wiping away the blood running down his arm from a cut near his shoulder. He returned from a hunt with your father, hiding the bloody wound from a skirmish with bandits. It was not grievous, though it bled heavily. Still, even warriors need to have small injuries tended. Even a soured scratch could send the strongest of men to the grave. 

You’ve grown up in an age of continuous small wars between petty kingdoms and Danes alike and have seen the aftermath of missing limbs and burning flesh. Shying away from blood is not in your nature after aiding physicians in infirmaries after battle —especially when it is your future husband who bleeds. “We are to be wed, Eivor,” you remind him, taking the piece of linen back from him, “and so long as your wounds are not beyond my skill, I shall tend them.” He does not protest again. 

He watches a flush of warmth creep up your neck and into your cheeks as your eyes dart over his bare chest —he is broad of shoulders and chest with thick and strong arms to match. Clearing your throat, you dapple away the last drops of blood and move to mix a paste of yarrow powder and water in a small mortar. Eivor winces at the initial sting of the paste on the cut, but it stems any new blood from welling as quick as a hot iron. 

You sit next to him on the straw bed, reaching for one of his hands. Ceolmund had been right. Eivor is a good man. Yet for all the fondness that has grown in your heart, you remain unsure about marriage and what will happen when you must leave the only home you’ve known. The worries gnaw at your mind and heart. Even if you have started to believe you could love Eivor in time —that there is a chance of contentment in this union. His fingers curl around yours, squeezing gently, as though he can sense your trepidations. “Do you think we can be happy with this arrangement?” You ask, voice trembling and gaze focused on your entwined hands. 

Eivor cups your cheek, and you meet his clear blue gaze. At first, he’d been uncertain, upset even with his brother for forcing his hand, but now, after the long days you’ve spent with one another, Eivor has no doubts. “I do,” he replies —echoing the vows he will soon take. “I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says with a fleeting smile. Preparations for the wedding had taken longer than anticipated, giving you and Eivor a full month to become acquainted with one another.

“As have I,” you admit. The days you’ve spent with him have been some of the best in recent memory. His thumb absently strokes your cheek, and you smile, leaning into his touch. “Eivor?” He raises his brow in question, letting his hand fall away from your face. A warmth blossoms in your chest, spurring the same type of boldness you felt that evening in the meadow. “May I kiss you?”

“We are to be wed,” he echoes, smiling —lifting both his hands to cup your cheeks. “You need not ask.” Eivor’s close-cropped golden beard tickles and scratches your cheek when you lean forward, closing what distance remains and placing your lips on his. He leads you, parting your lips with a soft sigh. It takes but a moment for you to fall in rhythm and meld against him. You can feel his lips twitch into a smile when one of your hands slides up his chest, the other resting over the mottled patch of skin on his neck.

THE DOORS SHUT, and you jump, suddenly feeling skittish. The wedding ceremony had come to pass, as had the feast and festivities though now you stand in the center of your bedchambers looking upon your blessed marital bed and knowing what is expected of you. Your husband stands before an open window, barefooted and stripped of the pale embroidered tunic from earlier. He complained during the feast about how scratchy it was. “Eivor?” He turns, stepping toward you —brows furrowed. “It is our wedding night,” you note, voice betraying a veneer of strength. 

Eivor grips onto your shoulders, then lets his hands glide up your neck to cup your cheeks, lifting your gaze to his. He does not wish to see fear and doubt in his wife’s eyes. “I promised I would not hurt you–” he kisses your forehead then returns his kindly gaze to you “–I meant that.” You let out a shaky breath, smiling as he runs his thumbs over your cheeks. “My gods can wait,” he tells you, “so can your God and priests.” Eivor moves one of his hands to your waist, resting his forehead on yours. “We are bound by oath, which should be enough.” Before gods and men alike, you took one another as husband and wife in sickness and health. 

You catch his wrist, sliding his hand up from your neck —peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Eivor did not think he gave his heart away so freely, but the knot in his throat as he catches your fleeting smile tells him he had. Loving you was not a difficult feat. 

Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and the streak of bravado returns. With a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts. “Eivor.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer, a soft plead to have you as a husband should have his wife. He pulls on the string at the neck of your shift, loosening it until he can push the thin material off your shoulders. It puddles around your ankles, and though bare, you still hold Eivor’s gaze. He draws in a sharp breath as his eyes dart over the length of your body —it does not escape him that he is the first to see you like this. His eyes darken, though, through the lust, there is a plethora of adoration. 

Calloused fingers caress your sides and stomach, tracing random patterns into your flesh, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He kisses a path along your jaw, a strong hand coming to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you shy away from the tickle of his beard. His other hand skims across your waist before settling on your hip, securing you in his hold. 

“Princess–” Eivor breathes, worried one more kiss will make it nigh impossible for him to stop, but you quieten him with your lips, chasing away any hesitance lingering between the two of you of what lies in store for the night.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer till he sweeps your feet out from under you —laughing at your surprised squeak as he carries you to bed. Eivor lays you on the soft pelts of fur, his weight hovering above you, braced on his forearms. Cupping his face in your hands, you ignore the prickly bite of his beard as you kiss him again, your knees bracketing his hips, brushing against the patched linen and leather of his britches. “You’re sweeter than Freyja, wife,” he muses, kissing the soft swell of your breast —the lingering scent of roses and raspberries tickling his nose. 

Kissing his way down your chest, he drags his teeth across one of your nipples, giving the other a quick tweak. Chills spread across your flesh as you arch into his mouth —hands slipping into his hair. Hands gripping your thighs, Eivor urges you to part your legs wider for him. Doing as instructed, you watch, breathlessly, as he moves across your stomach, leaving open mouth kisses in his wake. Eivor drags his beard against your hip, nipping at the skin there. The warmth in your belly turns to flames. 

Twitching in his hold, you clutch the pelts beneath your hands —heart pounding in anticipation. Eivor in no rush, for there are many hours until the crows sing. He kisses your inner thighs, hot breath fanning against you. The first brush of his tongue has you sighing his name, eyes sliding shut as he laps at your slick folds. Holding your legs open, he makes love to you with his mouth alone. Eivor relishes in the small, obscene noises you make while trembling above him —his cock twitches, but he ignores his desires a moment longer. He leaves no part of you left untouched, his mouth finding every nook and crevice, laving and suckling to his heart's content. 

You burn, the fire in your belly demanding more, cunt fluttering around his tongue, aching for relief. “Eivor,” you whimper, chest heaving as your tug at his golden hair, fingers clutching at his unbound strands. He grunts, huffing a ragged chuckle when your hips move of their own accord —thighs fighting his iron grip. Eivor nuzzles at you, spreading you open with his thumbs. You cry out at the first touch of his tongue to your clit, but then he wraps his lips around the swollen bundle, tongue flicking out. Your body bends to his will, as though you are but wet clay in the hands of a skilled potter. 

Enraptured, you barely notice when he eases one finger into your warmth and then a second —slowly thrusting and stroking. The flames in your belly flood your veins, and with a wordless moan, you give in to the hedonistic haze —it feels as though nothing matters beyond this with the waves and sparks fizzing through your blood. 

Eivor wheedles you down from the high, gradually, murmuring words of praise between your thighs —how beautiful you looked in the throes of passion, how sweet you tasted, finer than sweet honey mead. He eases his fingers from you and crawls back up your body, retracing a similar path with kisses and soft nips. When he kisses you, you can taste your essence of his lips and tongue and feel the hard length pressing against your inner thigh through his pants. It makes you ache with need and want.

Fumbling with the ties of his pants and underpants, Eivor hurriedly pushes them down his legs and tossing them to the side, wedging himself back between your thighs. You feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your folds, his hips rocking back-and-forth as he coats himself in your slick. Heart racing, your body cries out at his languid teasing. Eivor lowers his mouth to your shoulder, worrying the skin between his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours. 

One of his hands moves slips between the bed and your back, moving further to cradle the back of your head as he guides himself with his free hand into your warmth. You grip onto his shoulder, nails digging into his back as he presses forward, slowly, giving you time to adjust to his girth until he is fully seated —hips flush against yours. With only a thin line dividing pleasure from pain, you understand why the act could be sacrilege in the eyes of God, nothing should make a man or woman feel so divine. 

He braces his weight on bent forearms, one of his hands cupping your cheek as he skims your expression for pain or discomfort. He finds none, only a soft smile and hazy, lust-darkened eyes. You guide him down, kissing him —draping one of your legs across the back of his thigh. “Eivor?” A low hum resounds his acknowledgment, though he busies himself leaving a soft line of kisses from the corner of your lips to your temple. “You can move now,” you tell him —pushing your hips up into his. 

Eivor kisses you, his tongue parting your lips as he rocks his hips back and presses forward —swallowing a soft gasp and then another as he draws back further. It’s a slow rhythm of long and deep strokes that lets you feel the slow drag of his cock with each thrust. He hovers above you, punctuating some thrusts with a kiss and others with a raspy curse to the gods. You draw your legs up his sides, spreading them wider —welcoming Eivor to claim you as he desires. 

Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Eivor pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters —thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks his release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back and shoulders ripple, contracting with each thrust. 

The hand tangled in your hair disappears —rough fingers sliding between your breasts and across your stomach, down to where your body is joined with his. He presses his thumb against your clit, stroking and rubbing circles, and smiles against your neck at his reward —soft cries of his name mingled with breathy moans and the feel of your walls fluttering around his cock. 

A low hiss escapes him when your nails scrap over the skin of his back and shoulders, seeking purchase as you tremble and writhe —tilting your head back into a pillow, back arching from the bed. The flames from earlier return, taking hold of you and spreading through your veins in a hot wave. Eivor’s name topples from your lips like a prayer as you cling to him, body shaking and driving him closer to his end. 

You squeeze him with your thighs and grip onto his biceps, thrumming with pleasure as he ruts into you, grunting. With another thrust, his body shudders, and his hips still as his cock twitches deep inside your warmth. Eivor’s lips part as he lets out a string of curses and praises —moaning. You cup his face, smoothing the furrow in his brows and tracing the deep scar on his cheek. Shaking, he rolls his hips into yours thrice more and accepts your kiss when you guide him down to your lips again.

Spent, Eivor lays his head on your breast and memorizes the feel of your sweat slicken bodies flush against one another. You drape an arm around his shoulders, stroking back his golden hair. A good arrangement, he thinks to himself, kissing the soft skin next to his lips. “I am proud and happy to call you my wife,” he breathes, turning his clear blue gaze up to you. He hadn’t a true choice in this marriage, but given the chance, he would still choose you a hundred times over. 

His words make your heart swell with warmth and bring tears to your eyes. “I feel the same, husband,” you note —fingers combing through his beard. Only a short time has passed, but it seems as if the two of you were always meant to find one another —heresy be damned. It had not taken long, but you are certain you already love him. 

Lying there in each other’s arms, time slows to an eternity. You whine when he slides his softening cock out of you —leaving an empty feeling as his warm seed trickles down your thighs. He chuckles as he moves from the bed and gathers up a linen towel. He thinks you a sight to behold lying atop the furs with wild hair and a debauched smile. Eivor cleans the mess between your legs and soothes the few red marks on your hips and thighs with quick kisses before rejoining you beneath the covers. 

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Eivor presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair. “Rest, princess,” he breathes, knowing the gods had been good to lead him to a woman like you.

THE LONGSHIP COMES to dock before a bustling borough in the heart of Mercia. Eivor offers his hand, helping you onto the wharf. After spending the majority of a week on the river, it is good to feel solid ground beneath your feet for more than a hasty meal or uneasy rest on the riverbanks. “Princess-” Eivor smiles, motioning toward the people and the wooden storefronts and homes set before the longhouse rising from a hill “–Ravensthorpe.” Love and pride fill his heart, spilling over into a bright smile and voice. You glance the settlement and back to your husband, placing a quick kiss on his scarred cheek before taking the well-trodden path to the longhouse. 

A band of excited children races toward the docks with a white-and-grey wolf cub nipping at their heels, shouting with glee at Eivor’s return. It’s been months since Eivor last helped with their lessons or played with them by the waterfall. They take him by storm and force. At the bottom pile, you can make out his deep laughter among the excited cries. You cannot help but smile. Eivor Wolfsmal is loved, not just by you, but his people. 

He rises from the ground, smiling as he brushes off the dirt from his tunic, having whispered something to the rowdy group that sent them running for the longhouse. “Felled by children and a wolf pup. Are you sure you’re a drengr?” You ask, laughing as you pluck a small clot of grass from his hair and wipe away the streak of mud on his unmarred cheek. 

Eivor’s eyes narrow, lips kinking into a taunting smirk. “Are you mocking me, wife?” He challenges. 

You clutch your heart, feigning offense at his accusation. “The mighty Eivor?” He raises a brow at the moniker. Mighty, it is a title he could get used to, just as he had grown used to hearing you call him husband in a sweet, singsong voice. “Never,” you smile. 

Word of his return spreads quickly, and before the merchant’s tent, most of the settlement gathers, smiling as they welcome Eivor home and are equally as quick to embrace you as one of their own. All doubts are chased away when Eivor wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your temple, smiling. “Welcome home,” he breathes —it is good to be back in Ravensthorpe, but even better to have you at his side. 

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#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing #Anonymous #requested #listen #kvitravn and i already had this idea lined up for a ficlet #so its something id been wanting to write #but holy hell did i kinda go ham on this #idk if you can tell #but i was inspired by Rollo and Gisla for this from Vikings

[nesta-stan]

Acosf Theory: Nesta being kidnapped by the Mortal Queens will be a major plot point.

We all already know that the queens are going to play a major role from the synopsis. I think that specifically it will be the youngest Queen who will act as Nesta's main antagonist. She is the perfect character to act as a foil for Nesta.

Lets start with the younger queen herself.

"And the youngest two queens … One was perhaps a few years older than me, black-haired and black-eyed, careful cunning oozing from every pore as she surveyed us.

"The youngest queen, the dark-haired one, smiled slightly. Arrogant youth"

Here we see a few similarities between Nesta and that Queen. She is arrogant, "Cunning", proud, and about the same age as Nesta. They were both made into things they didn't want to be. To the Queen, Nesta has everything she wanted; she got the youth the power, and the money.

“The youngest one—that pinched-faced bitch—went into the Cauldron first. Practically trampled the others to get in after it saw what it did to you and your sister.”

Stone screamed beneath twin sets of talons. “But the Cauldron … Oh, it knew that something had been taken from it. Not sentient, but … it knew. It was furious. And when that young queen went in …”

The Ravens laughed. Laughed as the slope leveled out and we found ourselves at the bottom of the library.

“Oh, it gave her immortality. It made her Fae. But since something had been taken from it … the Cauldron took what she valued most. Her youth.” They sniggered again. “A young woman went in … but a withered crone came out.”

And from the catacombs of my memory, Elain’s voice sounded: I saw young hands

wither with age.

“The other queens won’t go into the Cauldron for terror of the same happening now. And the youngest one … Oh, you should hear how she talks, Nesta Archeron. The things she wants to do to you when Hybern is done …”

The Queen is angry at Nesta and Nesta is angry at the Queens. I'm going to be honest, when it comes to SJM's main villains like the king of hybern they seem to be one dimensional but this Queen's circumstances can be what forces Nesta to look further at her own. This Queen is what Nesta might have been. She might even be a deciding factor on who Nesta chooses to become.

Why this would make Nesta going to the Illyrian mountains make more sense

"She wasn’t stupid—she knew there had been unrest, both in Prythian and on the continent, since the war had ended. Knew some Fae territories were pushing their new limits on what they could get away with in terms of territory claims and how they treated humans."

These are Nesta's thoughts before going to see her sister in the sneak peak. I, and a lot of others, have never been able to wrap our heads around how the Illyrian mountains could ever be a good place for Nesta. Yes, a lot of people use the excuse "it's for her healing" but there is never any reasoning behind why illyria?

The mortal Queens know about Velaris. If Feyre and the inner circle have caught on to a plan to kidnap Nesta, than it makes sense that they would try to hide her away somewhere safe. Especially since she is basically helpless on her own. Cassian is the only character, besides Feyre, that cares about Nesta's well being and Illyria is filled with soldiers ready to fight at a moment's notice, while Velaris isn't. It is also where she can train. This threat has probably made Feyre realize how defenseless her sister is and to give her a fighting chance, she forces Nesta to train.

Now, let's talk about the "Ally" the synopsis mentioned. I think it's the Illyrians. That's how she still ends up captured. They betray Cassian and offer his mate to the mortal Queens. Though we all refer to this as Nesta's book, it's Cassian’s too. The Illyrians are closest to his heart. So it makes sense that they are included in his Arc. He has long been bad mouthed and treated as lowly for his status but he never stopped loving his people. Instead he internalized it, but what happens when the woman of his affections suffers because of that hatred? It would be the perfect tool to force Cassian to self-reflect on who he is and what he stands for. Can he choose between his people and his love?

This ties in with the snow queen theory

I actually first thought of this when reevaluating the theory that the story that will work as an inspiration for this book is the Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson. There are three versions of that story that all could potentially tie into to Acofas. The original, Frozen, and the 2002 movie remake.

Frozen because it is the tale of two sisters coming together after years of estrangement. (Feyre and Nesta obviously). 

I put the 2002 version in their because in that version of the story has "Lady's" portraying and ruling over each season. Their is a spring witch, summer princess (cresseida) , Autumn thief, and then the snow queen(Vivian?). Meaning more characters might play more roles in this story. I did see alot of wanting Nesta to travel to the other courts.

Now for the original, which probably looks like it has the most connection to Acosf. The story is short and easy to find online. In short, it's about a girl Named Gerda who goes on a quest to find Kay, her childhood friend. A magic mirror created by the devil , that I'm not going into detail much but it's basically the Ouroboros, is shattered and falls into the eyes and heart of young Kay. (Snow Queen also speculated to have a shard in her heart) This makes him cruel to his sister like friend over the next year till he is kidnapped by the snow queen.

This story ties in for multiple reasons. I think hear the mirror is replaced by the Cauldron. Both the Mortal Queen and Nesta were made and neither or happy about it. This being the "glass shard that froze their hearts." And the Mortal Queen being the Snow Queen who kidnapped Kay, or Nesta. Also, Kay is cruel to Gerda for a year before he is taken and it's been a year since the war.

Now let's look at this Quote.

“Little Kay was quite blue, yes nearly black with cold; but he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feeling of cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of ice. He was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he wanted to make something with them; just as we have little flat pieces of wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese Puzzle. Kay made all sorts of figures, the most complicated, for it was an ice-puzzle for the understanding. In his eyes the figures were extraordinarily beautiful, and of the utmost importance; for the bit of glass which was in his eye caused this. He found whole figures which represented a written word; but he never could manage to represent just the word he wanted—that word was “eternity”; and the Snow Queen had said, “If you can discover that figure, you shall be your own master, and I will make you a present of the whole world and a pair of new skates.” But he could not find it out.”

I always interpreted that if this was going to inspire something in Acotar it would be Metaphorical. That the injuries Kay suffers would be how Nesta let herself fall apart and the puzzle that he needed to spell eternity for could be how Nesta still doesn't know what to do with her immortal life.

But what if it's literally? What if the Queen captures Nesta and tries to use her powers to fix her. The Queen was also granted immortality. What if Kay figuring out how to spell eternity is Nesta figuring out how to fix the young Queen. And the injuries are of being black and blue are from the queens torchering her?

Sjm's habits.

Sjm always has a habit of making her characters go through even deeper shit, once they finally healed. It would make sense that she would throw us another curve ball like this. She did something similar with Aelin in Koa, and she has reused some points before. Like Aedion and Lysandra taking Nessian's "till the next life".

Also, alot of people don't like Nesta and having even worse charecters be introduced to make the others look better is so in Sjm style. Just in the way that Tamlin and Eris make Rhysand look like a Saint, having the mortal Queen be the "bad" version of Nesta would help people see her in a better light.

I tried to look at this in the way of, What will make these Charecters question themselves and their motives the most. This was my conclusion.

This is just what I came up with, if you have any differing thoughts or ideas I would love to hear them. 

@heylittlemissy @sjm-things 

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acofas #acotar #acowar #nesta archeron #nesta #a court of silver flames #acosf #acosf theory #nesta acotar #cassian x nesta #cassian acotar #nessian #Archeron #archeron sisters #sjm theory #sjm critical #sjmass #sjm #sarah j maas #cassian #nesta x cassian #snow queen

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 55: Movie Night

Lots of quotes from the movie Lilo & Stitch ahead! Fewer quotes, but some, from Trolls and Frozen.

Bold italics are trollish, ~tildes~ indicate goblin.

Content warnings for this chapter: Swearing. Here we reach the story's first F-bomb.

Also, there is some talk between characters about the harshness of life in the Darklands, how Changelings are treated by the Gumm-Gumms, and mentions of cannibalism.

This was supposed to be a light-happy chapter that got feels-y at the end, but then it went and got all dark on me.

Oh, also-also, (Not) Enrique finds out Claire flirted with Jim a while ago and misinterprets what exactly happened between them, but that gets cleared up fast.

Becoming The Mask

Once again, Javier and Ophelia Nuñez were out for the evening, leaving Claire in charge of Enrique. Claire had gotten permission to invite "some friends" over to watch movies. Jim and Toby arrived to find Mary and Darci already there – Jim suspected, like the time he'd 'babysat', that Claire had purposefully asked him to arrive after she knew her parents would be gone.

They set up piles of cushions and blankets on the floor between the couch and the TV. Jim propped the Amulet up on the coffee table they'd pushed to one side. Maybe some of the ghost Trollhunters would be interested in human movies.

"Finally get your fill of the touchy-feelies?" Enrique teased Jim, seeing how they were all seated separately. Jim snorted.

"Not hardly." He pulled the smaller Changeling in for a hug. "Humans just have different rules about casual touching, is all. Freezing to death's not really a concern in this climate."

"Wait, what?" said Toby, dropping the pillow he'd been holding. Jim looked up to see all the humans staring at him.

"Darklands thing," said Enrique easily. "Gets cold there."

"We'd sleep in piles," Jim explained. "I had a bit of a reputation for being … clingy."

"If you weren't good at finding food and soft stuff, we'd never've put up with ya." Enrique proved himself a liar by climbing onto Jim's shoulders instead of jumping back to the floor. He fluffed the hair on Jim's scalp. "Jimmy-boy got his first nickname for that."

"Shut up," said Jim playfully. "Anyway, humans get weird about touching around puberty. I can still hug Mom whenever I want, but Toby gets embarrassed if I hug him around other people, and Claire, Mary, and Darci haven't given me permission to touch them casually yet."

"… Did you … want permission?" asked Claire. "You, kinda, said you were uncomfortable with that, I thought."

"No, it was more wondering if you were flirting with me that felt weird," Jim assured her. "After that conversation I felt like it'd be awkward to bring up that I was open to hugging and such."

Jim thought he felt Enrique growl, to quietly to properly hear. His hand, still in Jim's hair, changed position so the tips of Enrique's claws were on Jim's scalp.

"When exactly did this happen?" Enrique asked.

"Claire kissed Jim on the cheek on his birthday and then Jim said he wasn't interested in dating her," said Mary.

"Also that I realized she might not have meant it in a flirty way and if I was misinterpreting things she could ignore what I was saying," Jim added. The claws retreated.

Claire looked away. "So what movie did we want to start with?"

"Lilo & Stitch!" exclaimed Darci, looking through the shelves. "I haven't watched this in forever!"

"That's a good one." Jim tilted his head to get Enrique back in his peripheral vision. "Enrique, have you seen it yet?"

"… Yeah."

"Isn't that the one that always makes you cry?" asked Toby.

"It's beautiful. Of course I cry."

Stitch was a constructed 'abomination', who shapeshifted to blend in, and his adopted family found out what he truly was and still wanted him. How could Jim be expected to keep his composure in the face of that?

"So, quick question," said Jim. "Is talking during the movie a crime, or is commentary what makes it a group activity?"

"Commentary," said all three girls together.

"Okay, good." Jim and Toby usually talked during movies, unless one or both of them were seeing it for the first time. Sometimes even then.

+=+

"Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries."

"We believe you actually created something."

"Created something? Ha! But that would be irresponsible, and, unethical. I would never, ever – make more than one."

"What is that monstrosity?"

"Monstrosity?! What you see before you is the first of a new species!"

"You have to wonder if she and Merlin ever had a talk like this," Enrique muttered in Jim's ear. Jim snickered.

"And as for that abomination … it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."

Jim stopped laughing and cringed. He loved this movie a lot, but some of it stung.

+=+

"A quiet capture would require an understanding of 626 that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"

"… Does he have a brother? Close grandmother, perhaps?"

"Fun fact," said Darci, "in early drafts Stitch was a career criminal and Jumba was an old accomplice."

"Friendly cousin? Neighbour with a beard?"

+=+

"Surely the teacher won't notice I was late if he doesn't see me come in!" Claire narrated sarcastically.

+=+

"I'm sorry, Scrump!" Mary wailed, as Lilo ran back to retrieve the doll she'd angrily thrown aside.

+=+

"Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong. And things have indeed gone wrong."

"As a cook, that kitchen horrifies me," said Jim.

+=+

"If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you – except on special occasions."

"Tuesdays and bank holidays would be good."

The entire group cracked up.

"How does kid Lilo's age even know what a bank holiday is?" said Claire. "I don't even know what a bank holiday is!"

"Maybe she saw it printed on a calendar?" said Toby.

+=+

A raindrop fell on Stitch's head. He fired his ray gun into the sky. It started raining, hard.

"Oh, no, I broke the sky!" Darci cried.

+=+

"Does it have to be this dog?"

"He survived getting hit by a truck, how much more sturdy and not-gonna-die do you want?" asked Jim.

"Yes. He's good. I can tell."

+=+

"I'm sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."

Mary nudged Claire. "Remind you of anyone?"

Like sunflowers, everyone else popped up and turned towards them.

Claire blushed. "We got into a fight in first grade and for like two days we decided we didn't want to be friends anymore, then our moms made us say sorry."

"He will be irresistibly drawn to large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyone's left shoe."

"It's weird they get in trouble for everything but this," commented Enrique. "Human grown ups might not believe a dog stole a trike, but wouldn't they think Lilo did it? She's fought the other kid before."

"It's nice to live on an island with no large cities."

+=+

"It's not an angel, Lilo, I don't even think it's a dog!"

"Isn't that the rolling thing Draal can do?" said Toby.

"Yeah, more or less," said Jim. "I mean, I don't think Draal bites his feet – but maybe that's the trick."

"At least with those stick legs you've got," said Enrique. He curled into a ball and rolled in a circle around the group. "Face it, you're out of proportion for this move."

+=+

"626 was designed to be a monster. But now, there is nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like, to have nothing? Not even memories to visit, in the middle of the night?"

"Now, this next bit I don't care for," said Jim. "The Ugly Duckling is a messed-up story."

"What've you got against The Ugly Duckling?" asked Mary.

"The blatant segregationist propaganda? 'A swan will never fit in with ducks and everyone is better off sticking with their own kind'. You don't even have to read it as a race metaphor. Between that and The Little Mermaid, I thought for while that Hans Christian Anderson was a Changeling writing cautionary tales about why we shouldn't get attached to humans."

"… Was he?" asked Claire.

"Probably not. I couldn't find any real evidence and the rest of his work doesn't match the pattern."

"Counterpoint," said Darci. "The Ugly Duckling is pro-integration. Everyone thought he was an ugly duckling because they didn't know what swans look like. If he'd grown up with ducks and swans around, they could've judged him for what he was instead of what he couldn't measure up to, and he might've had a happy childhood instead of only finding a community that accepted him as an adult."

Jim considered this, and nodded. "I guess I can see that, too."

+=+

"Heard you lost your job."

"Well, uh, actually, I just quit. That job. Because, you know, the hours are just not conducive to the challenges of raising a child –"

"Nani, no!" Jim begged. "I know almost nothing about Social Services but I'm pretty sure choosing to leave your only source of income looks worse to them than just losing it!"

"Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbour of my patience; but I cannot ignore you being jobless. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"And next time I see this dog, I expect it to be a model citizen. Capiche?"

"Uh … yes?"

"New job. Model citizen. Good day."

+=+

"So, we saw Cobra on the beach after all the tourists got scared off … D'you think he was just standing there watching them the whole time?" Mary wondered out loud after the surfing sequence.

+=+

"Until we meet again …"

Lilo was about to tell Stitch about her parents. Without thinking, Jim grabbed the remote – on the coffee table, next to the amulet – to fast forward.

"What are you doing?" Darci cried. "This is one of the big emotional turning points of the film!"

Jim paused it. "Sorry. Uh … Tobes and I usually skip this scene."

"I think I can handle it," Toby assured Jim. To the girls and Enrique, he explained, "My parents died in a storm when I was two. A cruise ship, not a car accident. I got kind of upset the first time we watched this as kids, and, we got in the habit fast forwarding this part. I think I'm okay with it now."

"You're sure?" asked Jim.

"I'm sure."

"Okay …" He rewound to the point where he'd started fast forwarding.

"That's us before. It was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours?"

Jim watched Toby more than the movie for the next few minutes.

"I'll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves."

"Do you remember them?" Claire asked quietly.

"Only the stuff Nana tells me." Toby shrugged, and readjusted the cushions he'd propped up his arms on. "I've seen lots of pictures. A couple home movies."

+=+

"Don't run. Don't make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes, yes, that's it, come quietly."

"I'm … waiting."

"For what?"

"Family."

"Ah. You don't have one. I made you."

"Maybe … I could –"

"You were built to destroy. You can never belong."

Jim blinked fast to keep the tears back. He sniffed, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him.

+=+

"Okay, talk! I know you had something to do with this, now where's Lilo? Talk! I know you can."

"Claire?" said Mary. "You okay?"

Jim looked over. Claire's jaw was clenched, and her hands were tight on the blanket, and her eyes were huge and fixed on the screen, and she was shaking.

"Ah … maybe the little sib getting snatched by otherworldly forces wasn't the best movie choice," Enrique said. He reached out like he was about to go to Claire, then pulled back his hand and hunkered down where he was.

"LILO! She's a little girl this big, she has black hair and brown eyes, and she hangs around with that THING!"

"I'm. Fine," Claire insisted.

"You're sure?"

"We can just fast forward."

"I said I'm fine!"

"Okay …"

Mary and Darci each scooted their blanket and cushion piles closer to Claire's, bracketing her on either side. Jim tactfully retreated to the Nuñezes kitchen to microwave a few more bags of popcorn. Enrique went with him. They could still hear the TV.

"What? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just like that?!"

"Ih."

"Fine."

"Fine? You're doing what he says?"

"Ah, he is very persuasive."

"Is it normal to feel bad for her?" Enrique asked.

"I think so? It's an awkward situation for both of you." Jim selected the white cheddar flavour. "But it's not like there's an alternative. You're not a polymorph. And really, the only reason she's upset is because she found out."

The Nuñezes had the same microwave as the Lakes. Jim didn't find the popcorn setting especially useful for this brand of popcorn – it tended to burn a third of the kernels– so he used the timer instead.

"I never apologized to you for that, did I?" Jim asked.

"It wasn't all your fault."

"Still, I'm sorry for my part in getting you caught."

The Changelings got back to the living room in time to see the unfortunate tourist lose his ice cream for the third time.

+=+

"Does Stitch have to go in the ship?"

"Yes."

"Can Stitch say goodbye?"

"… Yes."

Like he always did during this scene, Jim cried. He let himself do it this time.

+=+

"Wait, how is Little Mermaid a cautionary tale?" asked Enrique during the credits. The camera panned over a photo of Stitch reading to a flock of ducklings. "For getting attached, I mean. I thought the moral of that one was to control yer temper and be careful who you made deals with?"

"Sure, the Disney version," said Jim. "They adapted it to make a more dramatic, less depressing story. And give the characters names. In the older version, the sea witch is actually a neutral character. The terms of the mermaid's transformation are that she's traded her tongue for legs, but walking on land hurts, and she'll become fully human if the prince marries her, but if he marries anybody else, she'll die."

"That doesn't sound neutral."

"Wait for it. The prince gets engaged to a human princess, so the mermaid's older sisters trade their hair to the sea witch for a magic knife and a loophole; if the little mermaid kills the prince before the wedding, she can turn back into a mermaid and survive."

"Kay, I see it now."

"Except she doesn't go through with the kill, so she dies, and because she wasn't really human, she doesn't have a proper soul, so her spirit's not allowed to go to Heaven."

"… Whoa."

"I know, right?"

"I mean," Mary commented, "not murdering somebody is kind of a low bar for moral decency. It's not as if the prince owed her anything just because she was attracted to him."

"No, no, whether the prince deserved to die or not is irrelevant," said Jim. "The point is that the mermaid had a chance to, objectively, trade one life for another, and because she was attached to the particular person she'd have to kill, she didn't prioritize her own survival, and therefore suffered."

"Wouldn't the guilt of murder have caused suffering anyway?" Toby pointed out.

"Not if she wasn't attached," Jim insisted. How were they not getting this? "If she could've just cut the throat of any random human, she'd've been fine. The moral of the story is that caring about people causes pain. That's what makes it depressing."

"Do you like any fairy tales?" asked Darci.

"Sure. Just not most of Anderson's work."

"What should we watch next?" said Claire hospitably. "If we're on a 'sister movies' theme, I've got Frozen."

"Isn't that one also based on an Anderson fairy tale?" said Mary.

"Not really," said Jim. "The Snow Queen was more 'inspiration' than 'source material'. Elsa never kidnaps anyone, and they left out the broken enchanted mirror. Plus it's fun to see all the different ways humans think trolls are like."

"We also have the Trolls movie," said Claire. "I haven't watched it yet. My dad got it for Mom's birthday because she used to collect the dolls."

"I haven't seen that one yet, either," Darci commented.

"Should we?" said Mary. "Any other votes?"

"I'm game for whatever," said Toby. "This one's a musical, right? Those are always fun."

Jim squirmed.

He hadn't watched this movie despite his curiosity, after an online clip of the opening had explained the premise. Getting eaten alive was his greatest fear. Did he want to watch a movie about trolls narrowly avoiding being eaten? Did he want to explain why he didn't want to watch it?

While he debated, the movie got put in.

"Once upon a time, in a happy forest, in the happiest tree, lived the happiest creatures the world has ever known: the trolls. They loved nothing more than to sing, and dance, and hug, and dance and hug and sing and dance and sing and hug –"

Enrique started laughing.

Oh, shit, Jim hadn't warned him.

"Uh, Enrique –"

"Ssh! This is ridiculous. I mean, the huggy bit's kind of like you, but the rest of it – ha!"

"But then one day, the trolls were discovered by – a Bergen!"

"The trolls are gonna –"

"Ji-im! Spoilers!" Toby hissed.

"They were the most miserable creatures in all the land."

Jim grabbed Enrique and covered his eyes. The smaller Changeling yelped and squirmed. Jim switched forms so his fingers wouldn't bleed from the clawing.

Enrique got his eyes uncovered just in time to see the Bergen flick a troll into its mouth.

The onscreen troll's exclamation of "Oh my god!" was drowned out by Enrique's much more lurid cursing.

"What the –?" The girls and Toby all turned to stare. Claire pointed at Enrique accusingly. "I knew that didn't mean 'I'm sorry'!"

"The hell kinda movie is this?! Why would you watch this?!" He twisted to look at Jim, who let go of him rather than risk yanking his scruff by accident. "You knew?!"

"I saw a bit of it on the internet when it first came out. That's why I froze up when Claire suggested it."

That … that was the wrong thing to say. Enrique rounded on Claire. A techno-rock cover of In The Hall Of The Mountain King boomed from the movie soundtrack.

"Why in FUCK'S NAME would you think we'd WANT to watch trolls get EATEN? Is this some kind of threat?"

"How the fuck would it be a threat?" Claire shot back, stealing some cushions from Mary to prop herself up taller without getting out of her blanket cocoon.

"Most Changelings –" Jim started to say.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE ALMOST BEEN EATEN?" Enrique roared. "I DON'T! CAUSE IT'S A LOT!"

"We've all had close calls," Jim finished. "Nyarlagroths, Hellheetis, goblins if you catch them in the wrong mood, Gruesomes if you're already hurt, Stalklings, and it's a … popular threat from Gumm-Gumms."

"You forgot the sloorbeasts," said Enrique bitterly.

"Nobody's gotten lichen patches that bad." At least, they hadn't when Jim got out. "Have they?"

"Still counts."

"Uh, excuse me." Toby raised his hand. "I think I speak for us all when I say, what?"

"The Darklands are a hostile environment with predators and scavengers," explained Jim. "That's the other reason we slept in groups."

"Bigger targets, but we could have lookouts."

"Okay, that's its own kind of horrifying, but I was more reacting to the cannibalism?"

"Changelings don't count as real trolls," Enrique said sarcastically. "We're Impure."

He left out the part where they'd eaten their own dead. Jim didn't add it.

(It wasn't like they'd hunted each other for food. Sometimes a Changeling just died, somehow, in a way that didn't get them eaten by something else, and … well, food was scarce in the Darklands. They couldn't afford to be picky.

It also paid to keep watch over the sentry posts. Gunmar occasionally used the Decimaar Blade to post a sentry and then forgot to order them to rest and eat. Once they died, the average adult Gumm-Gumm was a meal for twenty Changelings, easily, if they could get to the body before the Gruesomes did.)

"Okay, we're switching to Frozen." Mary made the executive decision. "Wait," she said, while exchanging the disks. "If Changelings aren't trolls, how does Jim's adoption work?"

Because of course this was the perfect moment to tell Enrique about that, right in the middle of a squabble with his adopted sister.

"For one thing, most of Trollmarket still thinks I'm human." Jim switched back to human shape to illustrate the point.

"You got adopted?"

"AAARRRGGHH and Blinky thought I should have legal standing in Trollmarket outside of my job."

Enrique stared at him. Green diamond-shaped ears were pinned back. Buggy, slit-pupil eyes were wide and hurt.

"You get everything," he grumbled. "Two nicknames, and the goblins liked you, and you could always find food, and here you're the boss's favourite even when you're a traitor, and your human family still likes you, and now you get a troll family too? S'not fair."

"Hey, the goblins liked you, too." Jim was fully aware that wasn't much comfort compared to all the rest of it. "They gave you your nickname, remember?"

"They gave you one, too."

"Yeah, but you got yours first."

They probably weren't supposed to hear Darci when she muttered, "I feel like we're missing a lot of context."

"Shit," Claire muttered back. "Not Enrique told me a bit of the name part. They don't remember their names from before they were Changelings, and they don't get real names until they have Familiars, so they use nicknames instead. From each other or from goblins, he said."

"They don't get names?" Darci's voice went squeaky at the end of that.

"We're trying to come up with something other than 'Enrique' for him."

"You're trying," Enrique corrected. Darci squeaked again.

"Can we maybe circle back to the cannibalism thing?" said Toby. "That feels like the kind of trauma that should get unpacked at some point."

"I would rather leave it packed," said Jim.

"The way you blurted it out like that feels like you need to talk about it."

"Not all psychology is Freudian, Tobes."

"Do your parents still have baby name books from when they were picking Enrique's name?" Mary asked Claire. "Real Enrique, I mean."

"They didn't use one. He was named after our abuelo."

"Okay, so what about your other grandfather? What was his name?"

"Jose María." Defensively, "It's gender neutral in Spanish."

On the television screen, the movie menu finished another loop and started again.

"I tried spelling my name like it sounds, en are ee kay, but Claire said it spelled 'Nrek'. You get why I couldn't use that."

Jim laughed.

"What's funny?" asked Toby. "Is that an insult or something?"

"No, it's goblin, in English it means 'bottle'," Jim translated. "Or possibly 'container of food'." The only bottles he's seen them use held formula for the Familiars, and the word hadn't come up on the surface, so the distinction was unclear. "It's either a silly name or a really morbid one."

"Aaand we're back to the cannibalism."

"No we are not!"

"Na na na heyana, Hahiyaha naha …"

Either somebody had decided to start the movie, or the DVD had that feature where it automatically began playing if nothing was selected after a few loops of the menu.

The conversation went in circles a couple more times, then faded out.

+=+

"And who's the funky-looking donkey over there?"

"That's Sven."

"Uh-huh; and who's the reindeer?"

"… Sven."

"Oh, they're – ? Oh! Okay! Makes things easier for me."

"~Riot~," said Enrique.

"Huh?"

"My nickname. Before. It meant 'riot'."

What are you doing? Jim wanted to demand. Was Enrique just – just giving up on a real name?

"You can call me that for now. Till we work out a for-real one. Better than 'Not Enrique'."

Jim stuffed some burnt popcorn kernels into his mouth to keep from protesting. He couldn't undermine Enrique's – Riot's – chosen name, right in front of a bunch of humans, when he'd been arguing with them about how rude that was for weeks now.

"Oh. Okay." Claire half-smiled. "Riot."

Jim shut his eyes to hide the flaring glow.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Angor Rot gets treated much better, and more sensibly, than in canon, and is correspondingly less vengeful)

Table of Contents 

Next Chapter (Featuring either Otto or Gatto)

A quick thank you to Taycin on AO3 for providing some name-gender context when this chapter first went up.

#Becoming The Mask chapters #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Changeling Jim #My Fanfiction #Not Enrique #Claire Nuñez #Tobias Domzalski #Mary Wang #Darci Scott #hug #Monday is fanfic day! #caution: contains swearing #tw: cannibalism #Changelings #backstory #names #movies #Lilo and Stitch #Trolls (movie) #frozen

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"Explorers raided tombs and paraded the remains of ancient monarchs and dynasties to their homes. Mummies were unwrapped at social affairs and examined—and it was such a popular pastime that tourism companies in Egypt sent such delights to European countries to satisfy their morbid curiosities and struggled to fuel the growing trend."

“So you see,” Sebastian continued, “There is a historical precedent for this sort of thing. I’m hardly the first businessman to notice the wasted resources just rotting away underground. Or stuffed into an urn, depending on customs and family sentiment.”

“There’s historical precedent for a lot of fucked up shit, Shaw. That doesn’t make it okay!” Pyro stared, aghast, at the website. “Does the Council know you’re doing this? They can’t possibly approve!”

“Are you going to run and tattle on me?” Sebastian sneered. “That doesn’t seem like you, Allerdyce, but you have become more of a conformist rule-follower in Krakoa, it seems. At any rate, some of the Council are aware of my side business. They have elected not to bring it to a vote in meetings, so presumably I am breaking no law of the island.”

“But….it’s wrong. It’s bloody grotesque is what it is!” Pyro exclaimed.

“Is it better or worse than burning people to death during a bank robbery, or as part of some half-baked political protest?”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Shaw!” Pyro snapped. “I know I’ve done some bad things – “

“Some bad things. What an adorable generalization, ducking out of all serious responsibility – “

“I know I’ve killed people, okay?” Not quite as many as some X-Men wanted to pretend, though. He mostly went for guards, police officers and soldiers, who, as far as Pyro was concerned, had it fucking coming. He hadn’t wanted to kill people to rob a bank, and there was never a need to if the civilians were smart enough to stay well back.

“But killing people doesn’t mean I can’t draw any moral lines, ever,” Pyro continued. “And I’m drawin’ a line right here. This is not okay.”

“Why not? Who does it hurt, really?”

“Well, surely the people whose bodies are getting rented out to sickos! No one would want that.” Pyro wasn’t sure he could articulate the sick churning in the pit of his stomach. It was something that went beyond logic, just a deep sense of disgust that seemed to well up from the center of his being. He was an open-minded fellow, he was willing to play fast and loose with a few morals, but surely some things were just….wrong. Right?

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Sebastian said, waving a hand dismissively. “And apparently X-Factor is running some very interesting experiments with discarded mutant corpses over in their appropriately named “Boneyard.” And I’m quite confident that Sinister is probably churning out clones in his little lab, no matter how he might deny it. So whats the harm in my business?”

“Just because other people are doing it doesn’t make it okay! It’s like a….desecration, isn’t it?” Perhaps there was some of his Gran’s staunch Catholicism lurking under the surface, despite Pyro’s current status as…well, not an atheist, exactly, more like an agnostic who didn’t want to think about things too hard. He had to admit, a childhood of Mass and Confession and Hail Marys really got under your skin, no matter how long ago you walked away from the church.

“All this fuss over discarded meat,” Sebastian shrugged. “That’s all it really is when you remove religion and sentiment from the equation. Really, Allerdyce, I’m surprised at your squeamishness.”

“Are you really okay with it, then?” Pyro asked. “Letting some human fuck a mutant corpse? That’s what they’re doing it, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. I believe that’s the most common activity, but a few people want to cook and eat choice pieces.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly all right, then.” Pyro’s words were so heavy with sarcasm, they practically thudded onto the floor.

“Understand, Allerdyce, I find all this personally distasteful. I am disgusted by the idea of necrophilia, and even cannabalsim. But I see no reason to deny others, if there is money to be made. The ‘sickos’ will pay top dollar for discrete fulfillment of their taboo desires.”

“But do you really want to be putting mutant corpses in human hands? Haven’t they got scientists trying to study us or clone us or whatever? Put our DNA in Sentinels to make super-weapons?”

Sebastian laughed heartily. “Really, I didn’t think you were so naïve. Mutants have been in the public eye for several decades. The various governments of the world have been capturing mutant test subjects for a very long time. There are hundreds of mutants buried in graveyards and millions in the heavy layer of ash that still covers Genosha. If some enterprising human scientist wants mutant DNA, it would be very, very easy to lay hands on it. In fact, your own corpse is probably preserved in a government lab somewhere. In other words, there’s no point in closing the barn door at this point. The horses are long gone.”

Pyro couldn’t resist a full-body shudder at the thought. He knew, deep down, that his body was probably stuck in a metal drawer somewhere, or cut into chunks sitting in labelled glass jars. The US government had probably been interested in him as a Legacy Virus victim, back before the cure. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it did.

“And the bodies are only available for a limited amount of time, at any rate,” Sebastian continued. “Aside from the obvious natural impermanence of a corpse, I’ve had Sinister inject the bodies with a kind of “kill switch.” After five days, the corpse will dissolve, leaving no trace behind. The humans are only paying to rent, after all.”

“But wait…..” Pyro ventured. “What gives you the right to sell other people’s bodies? Shouldn’t they be the ones to profit off that?”

“What gives people the right to collect discarded trash?” Sebastian said, spreading his arms wide. “Would you begrudge the little old lady collecting aluminum cans for a few pennies from a recycling center? Or the struggling student who takes a sofa from the side of the road? That’s all these corpses are. Trash. Their previous owners have shiny new bodies – bodies gifted to them by Krakoa and the Five, by the way – and left no instructions as to disposal. I don’t use bodies from people who requested to be cremated, or some kind of ritual burial. Just bodies have have been carelessly tossed aside, by people who clearly don’t care.”

“Oh, well I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain that to everyone else, then,” Pyro said. “I’m sure they’ll all be totally understanding.” He realized a moment later, with a nervous twinge, that threatening to tell on the unscrupulous businessman while you were sitting alone in his massive castle and no one else knew where you were was a very stupid thing to do. Fuck. He should have at least claimed to have evidence left with a trusted friend or something, but he’d only just stumbled across this, while exploring the so-called “dark web.” Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.

“I told you, some Council members are already well aware,” Sebastian said, sitting back and regarding Pyro across steepled fingers. “I don’t think you’d find those in authority quite as willing to turn on me as you imagine, Allerdyce. In fact, it’s entirely possible that any attempt to inform the public will lead to a hasty mind-wipe for you.”

“I’ve got proof. I left it all on a flash drive with……” Freddy? Dominic? Mystique? “….a friend,” he finished, not wanting to actually put anyone else in the crosshairs. Hell, Mystique might even know about this. He’d like to think better of her, but she always had schemes within schemes going. He wondered which telepath on the Council might be in on this. Was Sinister a telepath? That arrogant piece of shit Exodus? He seemed too high-minded to approve, but that mission in the Savage Land had shown Pyro that Exodus did not give a single fuck about mutants that he considered weak or “unworthy.” Frost? Even Xavier? Pyro had never trusted that creepy bastard. Something about him had always seemed too good to be true.

Sebastian laughed again. “Oh, you think I’m going to kill you? That’s cute. Allerdyce, you are not in some ridiculous detective story. I am a practical man, and despite your bleating about morals, I know you are, too. I am willing to make you an offer. It’s an easy job. All you have to do is ‘keep mum,’ as they say.” Sebastian wrote a number down on a piece of paper, and slid it across the table.

It was, in fact, a very nice number. Enough to make some of Pyro’s disgust quickly fall away.

“After all, why shouldn’t you enjoy the same kind of luxury experienced by Krakoa’s elite? You serve aboard the Marauder, and you’re obviously on the lowest rung of the crew. None of the power and privilege weilded by the X-Men, none of the wealth bestowed by birth on Christian Frost, my own son, and the Von Struckers. And you do significantly more work than for the Hellfire Trading Company than those spoiled idiots. Why not take a little something for yourself?”

Pyro’s mind whirled. Of course, taking the money now would mean he was “in it,” so to speak. And if the secret got out, he’d probably be implicated along with Shaw, at least in the eys of his fellow mutants. Which would hurt a bit, after all his heroics with the Marauders. He was starting to feel, at least a little bit, like a good guy.

But on the other hand, if Sebastian was telling the truth, and some of the Council already knew, trying to tattle would just get him in the shit. It was all well and good to have movies about heroic whistle-blowers, but in the real world, they got slandered, ruined, and sometimes murdered. No one would stand up for a relative nobody like Pyro, especially if Frost and Mystique already knew. At best he’d just get mind-wiped.

It would be safer to just walk away and keep his mouth shut. And if he was going to walk away anyhow, why not pick up a paycheck for it?

They were just corpses, right? What a resurrected mutant didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

And it didn’t seem to actually be breaking any Krakoan laws.

And it was a lot of money.

And Pyro really did like money.

It wasn’t like he was a proper journo anymore, was he? No need for integrity.

Pyro pushed the paper back across the table.

“You’ll need to add a zero to that number before I’ll even consider it,” he said. “And this is just for silence, understand? I’m not gonna be your employee, don’t start expecting me to fetch and carry.”

Sebastian grinned, making a mark on the paper, and held it his hand to shake.

“I knew you’d see sense. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Allerdyce.”

OOC: I was going to make that sillier, but the more I thought about it…..Sebastian probably would bribe Pyro to shut up, and Pyro would probably just take the money. He’s trying to be “good,” but not that good. Also, no offense intended to Exodus. After the story in the Quicksilver min-series, when Pyro is working with Acolytes on a mission for a supposed Legacy Virus cure (which doesn’t exist), Pyro probably holds a serious grudge against him.

#sebastian shaw #pyro #st john allerdyce

[aphroditeslesbian]

hi

I was also raised 7th day Adventist and I’m a closeted lesbian. I don’t hate my religion..because I personally didn’t have a bad experience with it in my childhood, but it clashes a lot with my beliefs and well parts of my identity. I’m feeling a bit helpless because this religion has been a big part of my life, a lot of strong women I look up to in my life are sda, and my local sda community is very wholesome. And by now you can sense my reluctance in letting it go. I’ve been coping by thinking I should find a gay-friendly sda church once I move out.. if I ever get married. What’s your journey been like? 🪴

Hey! I don't meet a lot of sda online, it's interesting to hear a different perspective. I'm gonna go into everything, bc my experiences with sda really shaped me, and yeah, it's been a wild, not so fun ride.

Basically I was baptized catholic as an infant, but my family isn't practicing catholic. My mom is very religious, and wanted me to have a good education... In Brazil, we have very poor public education in primary and secondary school, and the best schools are the private ones... Which are also religious schools. So I wound up studying in a sda school from kindergarten to highschool graduation.

So from a young age (4 yo) I was raised on my school's religious beliefs. I was really involved, and my childhood best friend was also sda, she lived a couple floors down from me and we'd hang out often, and her family would bring me to church on Saturdays (there was a sda church across the street from the apartments we lived in). I was the staple Christian child, I prayed every night and every morning, apart from all the prayer at school ofc. At 8yo they did a talk at school about the importance of baptism, and I asked my parents to allow me to be baptized as sda. My mom surprisingly didn't want me to be baptized again, not so young, but my dad said I should do what I wanted, so I was baptized again at the school's church. Literally the school had an auditorium for our weekly religion-related classes, which we called "chapel", and was basically like going to church – but mandatory, as it was during school time. This specific school also had a church built on the side, so yeah.

During my early childhood through preteen years I had no issues with the school's teachings and sda ideology. It was all I had ever known, my family encouraged religion and we'd also sometimes (rarely) go to catholic church. I honestly didn't even realize people could not believe in god until I was 12/13.

I had never really heard much about being gay, or being anti gay during primary school - I may have forgotten having ever heard it from teachers. I only heard about homophobia from peers, and so I knew that being gay was a bad, evil, gross thing.

When I was around 11/12 we moved to a smaller town, and I started at a smaller Adventist school. I was the only one in my small newly found friend group who was baptized, and moving was very traumatic for me, so I started becoming less active in church. I became severely depressed because of the move and other stuff at home, and turned to the internet for a distraction.

I first heard about atheism from a youtuber, and he was known for his controversial takes (he's pretty nasty, it's only gotten worse with time but anyway). I guess a mixture of depression, becoming a teen, having my rebellious phase, I started researching into it.

My religion teacher (we had "religion" classes, but they should really have been called "7th Day Adventism classes") was much harsher than the one I had at my first school. This was around the time that Twilight was a big deal, and I read those books sooo many times for comfort, I got into Harry Potter etc. Not long after I moved to this school, we had a religion class about how Harry Potter was inspired by the devil. My books were often confiscated during class, even if I had already finished my assignments and was reading quietly, even if they were just on my desk. Being super depressed and introverted, with very few friends, books were my refuge. Having the teachers look down on them and literally say they were devilish and evil really started to shift my view of the religion. I knew these were good books, I loved them. So how could they be evil?

I have a very strong memory of praying and praying once and begging Jesus and god to help me, to give me a sign, because I was terrified of losing my religion, of losing god. All I had learned my whole life was that god is good, god is love etc. How come god wasn't helping me, my family, through some of the worst times? How come I was alone?

At around 12/13 my cousin came out to me as bi, and soon after another cousin came out as gay. I barely fully understood what that meant, and the internet was again where I researched about it. I realized I liked girls at the time, but I never understood you could even be married to a woman, as a woman. Even though I knew I liked and was attracted to girls, I never let myself think too much on it. The school was pretty obvious about how marriage is between a man and a woman, our "sex talk" was a class with our religion teacher. Bio talk was split, the boys left the room so we could learn about female anatomy and stuff, and then the boys had the room, etc. Our religious teacher was very adamant about how one shouldn't have sex before marriage, and marriage was between a man and a woman so...

Honestly the basework they laid was to erase homosexuality. I didn't even grasp that I could be anything but attracted to girls, I didn't realize I could do anything about it.

And then in highschool, I guess bc we were old enough, they finally started being outspoken about their hatred of gay people. There would be snide comments from the Portuguese/Lit teacher, a disgusting talk from the History teacher about how gay men's sexual activity leads to anal incontinence, the Religion teacher saying it was wrong, comparing it to criminality, the school's vice principal giving us a lecture and making sure to hammer in the worst thing anyone could turn out to be was homosexual.

At this point I thought I was okay with my same sex attraction, I thought these things weren't getting under my skin. But then I learned about being trans, and I came to the conclusion that since I was into girls, I couldn't be a woman. I identified as trans from around 15-19. That was internalized misogyny and homophobia, that was me actually letting all the snide little comments settle deep in me, and shape who I was.

Anyway, at around 14 I was done. School was teaching us that bastard kids aren't blessed by god (me and my siblings are all "bastards" as my parents were never married). They told us couples who lived together and we're never married were not blessed by god, and implied they were bound to have issues for their sin.

I was a teenager living in a broken home, my father was emotionally abusive to me and my mother, and honestly at the end of the day I had to choose if I wanted to believe in a god who was supposedly love itself, yet didn't protect me and my young siblings and my mom... Or not believe in god at all.

Leaving the church and coming to terms with not believing in god was one of the toughest times in my life. My depression was in the gutter, I was self harming, I was struggling. I remember thinking of my cousins, whom I was very close with growing up, and knowing they were good people, so how could god not love then? I remember thinking of myself, of all I had done for the church, for god, and wondering how could god not accept me.

For me, the church was poison. I only saw hypocrisy, I saw people who judged each other, who cared more about their own concepts of right and wrong than being mindful of others. I saw my teachers who preached being kind, but ridiculed and laughed at other religions and those who believed them. When I was questioning religion, I always had sooo many questions for my religion teacher and so often she just told me that some questions were too big for us to understand, that only god could fully comprehend himself.

I'm proud to have come out the other side, but I won't lie. The community that church represents does seem so lovely and welcoming. I wanted to be a part of something, and church offered that.

But at the end of the day, there's no space for me, a lesbian, in there. They don't believe gay marriage is okay, they don't condone our "lifestyle". They think this is a choice we're making, and a bad one at that.

The childhood friend I mentioned earlier, who I used to go to church with, actually came out as a lesbian a couple years ago as well. Her sda family is giving her a really hard time. She's left the church, last I heard.

Honestly, my advice would be to find other community. Find community with other lesbians, people who can accept you unconditionally, who can offer you support without small print. That's what I'm trying to do.

I personally am against christianity for a lot of other reasons besides my very negative experiences. Maybe that's not you, and in that case I guess finding a church that is LGB friendly can be the answer. I couldn't judge anyone for choosing to stay, because like I said I really understand how nice it can feel, how it's like you belong in this community, how it can feel like the church is family.

But I really suggest deep soulsearching, because in my experience all they ever did for me was suck all my energy, all my devotion, and spit me out when I was never going to be the heterosexual good girl they expected me to be.

Sorry for the super long answer, I hope this helps some? If you wanna talk more in private you can hit me up through DMs, I'm very willing to listen and talk about it.

#anti religion #sda #august rants #homophobia #lesbophobia #misogyny

[kurgy]

Ever since covid hit everything has changed, not just societally, but I mean like my already shitty life got 10x worse

All of 2020 my mental health was on a steady decline, fighting in court for disability, searching for affordable housing (I haven't found yet and will be homeless by the end of the year haha), my physical health rapidly declining as my stomach issue, which is potentially cancerous I've now been informed (6 fucking years too late).

Mentally, physically, and emotionally I am not the same person, but I don't think for the better.

According to my therapist, as a direct result of the situation I'd be abandoned in, I've been regressing back to the few times I was happy. She said I love the Christmas season so much bc, despite the abuse, as a child Christmas truly did fill me with wonder and joy. I loved the lights, I loved the rankin/bass holiday specials, I love the Christmas trees and their decorations, I love old Christmas tales, even the Christian ones. Rankin/bass the little drummer boy, when I was little, resounded with me because, well

I was born and raised Christian. I was horribly abused by the system and the people that proudly declared their faith, but on God, rankin/bass' The Little Drummer boy made me want to have faith. I wanted to have faith in a God that loves and cherishes me the way my parents wouldn't.

There was Nestor the long eared Christmas donkey which, I know sounds silly, but again had me craving that connection to a power higher than me. It made me want faith.

but the world ain't like Christmas movies.

My therapist says this level of regression is really unhealthy, and majorly contributing to my isolation from friends and family, and the severity of my depression worsening, filling in the whole it dug for me, with me inside.

I will literally dissociate and entire day away running a playlist of old animated Christmas movies from the 60s 70s and 80s, the reruns they'd show on ABC when I was a child giving me a weird fuzzy feeling in my chest watching them now during the pandemic, the shootings, the climate crisis, my own housing crisis, and the injustices and human rights violations happening literally everywhere. If I focus too long on these things I get physically ill. So I don't. I

I watch my movies

I dissociate

I flashback to the few moments in my childhood that were full of Christmas cheer and joy and I just. Stay there. For hours. Anything to avoid being alone with my thoughts. Alone with my hallucinations. Alone with Terry.

I'm mentally regressing the more traumatic my situation becomes and honestly I just don't care anymore

If I get worse I get worse

If I die I die

#dont reblog #personal/

[whorrorstuff]

Things I Need to go to Therapy For

Kristen, the first person I ever loved. We were in a deep codependent relationship, and I hurt myself mentally and physically to keep her happy from ages 12-16.

Ashten. The guy I had my first kiss, and lost my virginity to. I hated myself so much and just wanted to feel pretty, feel loved. He never loved me. He was 17/18 and I was 14/15. He took advantage of me, over. And over. And over. But I thought I was in love with him, he would call me sexy and hot and would talk to me. I thought I was so lucky. The sex always hurt, and it only happened when he came back from being in the Navy. One particular time, after he had spent 4 months convincing me he loved me, he cared about me, he was going to make me his officially, he refused to look me in the face. I tried to grab his hand and he yanked it away, barely talking. I felt like I was too ugly. He took me to his house and roughly had sex with me, to the point that I bled. I didn't say no, so I don't blame him or consider it assault. After 30 minutes of painful sex, he took me home and didn't speak to me much after that. I was so brainwashed I didn't even feel used, I was still convinced this was my only chance at love.

Pregnancy. Ashten got me pregnant when I was freshly 19 and he was 22. He came home from deployment and saw me for one night, and I was still insecure and brainwashed into thinking this was all I was worthy of. This was all I could get. When I found out I was pregnant, I set up an abortion appointment that same hour, but they couldn't fit me in for 3 weeks. This was the darkest time of my life. I had lost my job, most of my friends, and I didn't feel loved by anyone. I told my mom, and a friend and her boyfriend I was pregnant. No one else. I didn't tell Ashten until the abortion appointment was made. All I asked was that he pay for half of it, and he did. I was pregnant, alone, jobless, and was going to be homeless soon.

Abortion. Planned Parenthood charged me full price for the abortion, around 800 dollars, even though I was young and jobless. I had to have my mom help pay. They gave me pills to take at home, and just like everything else in my life, I did it alone. I locked myself in the bathroom for four hours, and endured the worst pain of my life. I was sitting in a bathtub filled with my own blood. My roommates never checked on me. I started vomiting from the pain, and called my mom for help. She said she couldn't help me, since her husband is anti abortion and she didn't want to upset him by coming over. Alone again.

Suicide Attenpr Number 1. When I was fired from my job, it was the day before my 19th birthday. I fell into such a dark hole that I spent the entire birthday alone. That was the first and only time I physically hurt myself.

Suicide Attempt Number 2. The day before I found out I was pregnant, I tried to kill myself. I had lost everything, didn't feel close enough to anyone to reach out. I tried calling the suicide hotline, and they kept me on hold for four hours. I sat curled up on my bed, listening to the hold music, hoping someone would be able to help me. No one ever did. When the hold ended, an automated message said no one was available, and hung up on me. Honestly, the anger I felt from that moment subsided the suicidal thoughts a little bit. That night I still took every pill we had in the little medicine cabinet, and hoped I wouldn't wake up. All that happened was me getting a little bit sick. I thought, maybe there was a reason, maybe things would get better. But my life just got worse and worse from that point.

Dad. I know my dad wasn't a good person, but he was usually good to me. He was scary and pushed me and my sister to be the best at everything we do. When he got sick, me, my mom, and my sister all took care of him, but mostly my mom. When I was 11 or 12, I had to clean up my dad's feces from the bathroom floor since he didn't have control over the lower half of his body anymore. No one knows about that other than me and him. He hated himself so much, but he knew he was going to die. He died while my mom took me and my sister out of town on vacation. The last thing I thought when I saw him was that I wished he would die already so my mom wouldn't have to suffer anymore. No one knows about that either. I didnt cry when he died, my only thought was that now I have to take care of my mom. I have to be strong for everyone else. I was 13.

Abandoned. A couple months after my dad died, my mom started going to bars and leaving me home alone. I had some form of psychosis, and would have panic attacks that something was going to get me any time I was left alone, but didn't want to upset her or ruin her fun. Then she met Joel. Joel is a decent guy, we don't agree politically at all but didn't really fight ever. My mom started seeing him during all of her free time, and I didn't know where she was. She didn't tell Joel I existed until a couple months into their relationship. She started disappearing more and more, while my sister moved out so I was truly alone. A 13 year old girl, in a big house by herself, alone. No money, nothing. My dad had been gone six months at this point. On my 14th birthday, my mom went out with Joel, and I was alone. I was getting used to being by myself so often, but my school friends heard about this and were furious, leading to me becoming more and more angry at my life. As the years went on, Joel converted my mom to Christianity, something I was not at all exposed to in my childhood. He moved in with us, and my home was now Mom and Joel's house that I existed in. She will deny not being home often, even though my friends from then would always comment on how I was alone so often, to the point my friends parents were extremely concerned. I went to in school therapy for this, and the therapist told me to just let my mom grieve her own way. I was a young teenager, abandoned.

Psychosis. I'm not sure what else to describe this period as. This happened from 12-14 years old, where I experienced the scariest moments of my life. I would see shadows, hear things talking to me, etc. I couldn't be left alone for more than five minutes before I'd snap. It truly felt like I was being stalked by demons. I couldn't eat or sleep, I looked like a ghost myself. And my family barely noticed, or claimed it was for attention.

Hypersexuality. I started masturbating at 5 or 6 years old. I watched porn at 9. I was not monitored online whatsoever, and fell into some horrible offshoots of the porn world, before I was even a teenager. I remember being 8, and thinking only 10 more years until I can have sex. I was called a young nymphomaniac by Ashten, I was 14. I never even got the talk from anyone, everything I knew was from online forums I would read without supervision. I was so uncomfortable talking to my mother about, well anything really, that I told her I needed birth control to fix my periods, which were perfectly normal. I did sex work while I was underage. Just wanting to feel loved and validated.

Beauty. I don't remember a time in my life where I've ever felt beautiful. I always hid from cameras, was never called pretty. It destroyed me. My mother would call herself ugly and fat, while I weighed much more than her. When I was no more than 9, she yelled at me asking if I could even see my feet. I currently weigh 235lbs, at 5'6. Disgusting. I've struggled with eating disorders my entire life, and even when it is blatantly bad my mom congratulated me on losing weight. I would skip entire school days to go to the gym, I spent 3 hours a day at the track near my house. All my friends were thin, beautiful, and had had multiple boyfriends. I, still, haven't had one. I fantasize about cutting open my body and ripping the fat out. I see myself naked and feel myself gag reflexively. I blame me being alone on how I look, because I know that's the case. Why else would ever man I've slept with tell me I'm perfect, but not perfect enough to date. Then the girl they leave me for is half my size. I hate everything about me. I hate my eye shape, my nose, my mouth, my body, the color of my skin. I would give anything to just be beautiful and loved and wanted for once.

#tw #tw ed shit #eating disoder tips #tw ed relapse #disordered eating tw #depressing post #rants n rambles #sad #mentally drained #mentalwellness #mental health #tw ed content #beauty #tw beauty #tw selfhate #tw sexualization of minors #tw sa

[stupidsexyfandom]

Sed Libera Nos A Malo

@helsa-summer-event

Rated T // Drama, Medieval AU

Brother Hans finds something suspicious about the abbey’s newest novice. 

Written for Prompt #6 of Helsa Summer: Letting off steam.

They were in the midst of the coldest winter anyone could remember. There were whispers in the village that this was Queen Elsa’s doing. Perhaps, angry at being driven from her home, she had laid a curse on the land. This speculation was frowned upon inside the abbey. There they condemned talk of magic as heresy. If there was anything unnatural about this winter, they said, it was a sign from God. A sign of what, they did not say.

Hans did not hold these murmurings in high regard. Magic was the stuff of myths and fairy stories, and he very much doubted that one girl held the power to plunge the country into a deep freeze. At this point, he doubted whether Queen Elsa was even still alive. He knew her parents had been slaughtered early in this conflict when his father, King Harald of the Southern Isles, had decided that Arendelle rightfully belonged to him. She had been hastily crowned, but she and her sister had disappeared soon afterward. Her supporters claimed the queen and princess had fled to Corona to gather an army, but Hans was not so sure. The Southern Isles’ attempted invasion was not popular among the Arendellian nobles, and he suspected their cause needed a figurehead.

He held the Church’s explanation in equally low esteem, despite being destined to take holy orders himself. The Church had thrown their weight behind King Harald’s claim to the throne, likely persuaded by the Southern Isles’ ample coffers. If this frigid weather were a sign of anything (although he was sure it was not), it might be God indicating that they had backed the wrong side.

But Hans had not come to the abbey because he felt called to God. His father had followed the cardinal rule of succession: an heir for the crown and a spare for the priesthood. But then there had been another spare and then another. Soon, the king had thirteen sons, each competing for wealth and influence. Several had climbed their way through the Church’s ranks, and several others had been promised lands throughout the Southern Isles and Arendelle. Hans was the last, and it was decided that he was not worthy of becoming a bishop or cardinal, or even a priest. He was relegated to being a simple monk.

Not even a full monk, at that, he thought with only a tinge of bitterness. He was still only a novice, and he thought it would be a long time before he took his final vows. For now, he was at the bottom of the pecking order, just as he had been at home. At least his position assisting the herbalist gave him a measure of freedom not accorded to the other novices. The work was varied and stimulating, and his superior, though a keen man, was not as strict as some of the other brothers. This left Hans able to move around the abbey with some degree of autonomy.

He knew the true reason his father had sent him to a monastery in Arendelle, aside from wanting to be rid of him. The king’s forces were moving through the country, laying siege to any towns which would not submit. But opposition was fierce, and the people had fought back with tooth and nail at every opportunity. The Southern Isles’ progress had been slower than King Harald would like to admit. Hans was not considered good enough for a place at court, but he could certainly feed the king information from behind enemy lines. He had not yet been called upon, but he knew the day would come. He did not relish the prospect. After all, what loyalty did he owe his father?

So he toiled away behind the monastery walls day after day. After so much time, he had become used to the routine of prayer and solitude. It was almost enough to make him a believer. Although it was not the life he would have chosen, he had accepted the path that was his to walk. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he would someday reach the rank of prior, or even abbot.

This morning was colder than most. Hans stood in the abbey stable, breaking the ice so the horses could have fresh water. He had always had a way with horses, and he was lucky that his tasks allowed him to work with them. Some of the other novices were being loudly berated in the courtyard. Not only had they spoken out of turn, but they had been gossiping about the Snow Queen, as she was called in the village. Hans was grateful to be hidden inside a stall. He was certain their odious superior would have found a way to include him in the punishment, despite his innocence in the matter. The loathing he harbored for that man was deeply un-Christian.

His musings on whether murder was really a sin if the victim was extremely annoying were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats. The novices and their lecturer scattered as Hans peered into the courtyard. Two horses burst into the courtyard, a black stallion of nearly eighteen hands, and a smaller gray that looked to have Arabian blood. A man dismounted from the first and a smaller figure, either a youth or a woman, from the second. The prior came out to meet them. He did not look happy to see them, but then again, he always looked like that. Hans could not hear what they were saying. When he heard footsteps approaching the stable, he hastened to look busy. But only the prior appeared.

“Brother Hans, are you in there?” Hans stepped out of the stall. The prior beckoned, and Hans followed him out into the courtyard. He was eager to get a closer look at such fine animals, even if it meant stepping out into the cold. The man had already started toward the abbey doors, but the other rider stood holding the horses. Ah, so it was a youth.

“Elias, this is Brother Hans,” said the prior, “He is one of your fellow novices.” Hans nodded in acknowledgement, appraising his new brother. Elias was extremely slight, with fair hair and round blue eyes. His face had not yet lost any of the softness of childhood. He seemed on edge despite the safety of the abbey. There was something off about him that Hans could not place.

“Brother Hans, take these horses to the stable and see that they are fed and watered. Boy, come with me.”

“Right away, Brother Prior,” said Hans, taking the reins. His attention immediately shifted to his new task. The horses must be tired and in need of hay. He could tell that they must have galloped a great distance from the way the steam rose from their sweaty flanks. That was it! As he walked toward the stables, he exhaled softly to test his theory. Steam rose from his lips into the chilly air.

He turned back to look at the abbey doors where the prior, Elias, and the other man were preparing to enter. Sure enough, the man and the prior both breathed out condensation when they spoke. But the air in front of Elias was perfectly clear. His lips emitted no such steam.

-

Over the next several weeks, Hans began to forget his strange realization. Elias seemed to integrate into monastic life easily. There still seemed something odd about him, but spending so much time together had made his quirks part of the status quo. He was quiet and easily startled, but he was also a hard worker who never caused trouble. He did nothing else to call attention to himself.

Hans had been seeing a lot of him because he was also assigned to work under the monastery’s herbalist. The unusually cold winter had brought with it famine and disease. The infirmary was full to capacity, creating more work than two people could handle. They were grateful for the extra set of hands. Brother Elias applied himself to the work with zeal. He seemed to have a particular talent for soothing fevered patients. Hans began to think himself silly for having any doubts about his fellow novice.

But a chance incident brought all his doubts, and many new ones, roaring back with a vengeance. The herbalist was away for several days tending to a patient far from the abbey. Hans and Brother Elias were managing well enough to distribute balms and poultices to their regular patients. Although they lacked expertise, they were both quick studies and worked well together.

Hans had been working in the infirmary when he had realized they were running low on a few supplies. He decided to walk down to the herbalist’s shed to replenish them. He opened the door without knocking, assuming nobody to be inside. Then came the sound of shattering glass. Looking inside, he saw Brother Elias kneeling on the floor, attempting to pick up shards of a vial. In his characteristic jumpiness, he had smashed the bottle in his hand when the door had opened unexpectedly. The mess was awful, but Hans was more concerned about the blood streaming from his palm.

“Leave it,” he said, picking his way across the floor to avoid the broken glass, “Let me have a look at that hand.” Brother Elias ignored the directive, continuing his vain efforts to clear up the mess.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. I can take care of it myself.” But Hans could see that the cut ran deep. He knew a wound like that could cause serious trouble if left unattended. Men had survived worse, but they had also died from much less.

“Not with one hand you can’t. It’s too deep.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Hans carefully crouched down. He could not understand why Brother Elias was so intent on refusing his help. But as he watched, he could see the boy was growing frustrated. Finally, he presented his hand for Hans to examine.

Hans gave no outward sign that anything was amiss when he took Brother Elias’s hand. He cleaned and treated the wound with as much care and attention as he would give any patient. But in the back of his mind, he felt something was very wrong. Brother Elias’s flesh was completely frozen. This went beyond the feeling of someone who had been out in the elements for hours. This was the chill of death.

That night at Compline, Hans prayed. This should not have been unusual, for all the monks spent several hours a day in prayer. But this night was unique for Hans in that he meant it. He knew not what he had stumbled upon, but he had to hope God would protect and guide him through it. In stories, demons were always red hot like the fire and brimstone whence they came. But what if that was wrong? What if, in order to withstand the licking flames of hellfire, demons were cold as ice?

Hans thought of reporting what he had seen, but the idea was unappealing. In truth, he found the monk who oversaw the novices so obnoxious that he would rather risk his immortal soul than talk to him unnecessarily. He wished desperately that his mentor were there. He knew the herbalist would have known what to do. But he was away from the abbey and would be for several days yet. Hans did not know if this would keep until then.

He could barely focus on his work in the infirmary the next day. His mind raced with thoughts of angels and demons, each twisting into the other until he could no longer tell them apart. He paid only the slightest attention when a fevered patient was brought in. There had been many cases like his in this hellish winter, and Hans set about mixing the preparation the herbalist had found was most effective. Brother Elias sat at the side of the fevered man, soothing him through his delirium.

As he watched, Brother Elias put one hand on the ill man’s forehead and the other at his neck. His fevered thrashing stilled, and he seemed almost at peace. Hans thought back to holding that hand in his own, cold and corpse-like and covered in blood. How unnatural the cold had felt then. But here, it had been a tool of salvation, bringing down the man’s body temperature. Would a demon use its unholy power to save lives? He very much doubted it. He found he could no longer stomach the idea of giving Brother Elias up to the authorities. Perhaps he would continue on as normal until the herbalist returned. He knew the older man would come up with a plan as kind as it was wise.

It turned out there was no need to wait for his mentor’s return. All would be revealed well before then.

Hans and Brother Elias were spending the night working in the shed, distilling herbs over a flame that must burn for countless hours. Exempt from Matins for the night because of their work, they had decided to sleep in shifts. Hans was surprised by how easy it was to go on working together as if nothing had happened. He had volunteered to take the first watch, tending to the fire while Brother Elias slept on the straw palette.

At first, all was well. Brother Elias retired, and Hans sat staring idly into the flames. Eventually he had trouble keeping his eyes open, slipping into a stupor. He only became alert when he felt something cold touch his face. Then for a moment he thought he must be dreaming. Snow seemed to be falling inside the herbalist’s shed.  He turned to see Brother Elias thrashing in his sleep, caught in the throes of some nightmare. Hans attempted to awaken him, but the dream’s grip was too powerful.

In his sleep he began to call, “Anna! Anna! No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” in that clear, youthful voice. Hans wondered who Anna was. Brother Elias seemed too young to have such passion for a lover. In any case, the pain in his voice seemed to point to a more tragic tale. Hans had little time for contemplation, for the snow began to fall thicker and faster. An icy wind threatened to extinguish the flame necessary for their task.

“My fault! It’s all my fault! No! Please!” At his wit’s end, Hans reached out and shook Brother Elias violently. His eyes snapped open and frost crawled up his arms, coating his habit and Hans’ alike. Hans broke away, staring at the frozen fabric in terror. The first thought through his mind was ‘begone accursed demon’, followed by several swears. But he mastered himself quickly. He had already established that Brother Elias could not be a demon, so what else was left?

“You… wield power over ice and snow?” Brother Elias stared at him like a cornered animal, round blue eyes wide with terror.

Finally, he murmured, “I was born like this.”

“Born like this?” said Hans slowly, “I can think of only one other said to have been born with this power.” He could feel his mind turning like the machinery of a mill wheel. To his surprise, Brother Elias barked a laugh.

“You know one of my secrets. You may as well know all. Soon it will not matter. I was once Queen Elsa of Arendelle.” From the hood of her habit, she revealed a que of fair hair. Hans gaped in shock. It seemed at once so unlikely and so obvious. Looking at her face, he could see now the femininity that he had mistaken for youth. He was so entranced that he nearly missed her next sentence.

“I know your secret as well, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. My advisors told me Harald’s men would be everywhere. I knew what to look for.”

“That title is no longer mine,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry, “I renounced it when I came to the abbey.”

“Ah. It is a shame, then, that I shall still have to kill you for it.” She produced a dagger from under her habit and advanced toward him. Although she had him in her power, he could see fear in her eyes.

“Wait!” he cried, “I have no intention of revealing your secret!” She stopped short, although her dagger was still raised.

“Oh? Why should I believe you?”

“I knew something was wrong from the very first day you came here, but still I said nothing.”

“How did you know?”

“Your breath was cold. No steam in the winter air.” She considered him for a moment. Then she lowered her dagger. Hans thought he glimpsed relief in her eyes.

“I must go tonight. I had hoped to lay low until the spring, but this place is no longer safe for me. It is a shame that I could not send word ahead of time, but it cannot be helped now.” She turned as if to walk out the door at that moment.

“Wait!” he said again, “What’s changed? I will not breath a word of your secret, and nobody else knows. Please, at least wait until the herbalist returns. He is a good and wise man, and I know he will advise you rightly.” He knew she saw the sense in his words. Silently, she sat down on the palette. Together they stared into the fire. Hans had a feeling neither of them would sleep tonight.

-

For the next few days, things returned to almost normal. The harsh cold showed no signs of abating as they continued their work in the infirmary. Elsa was as kind and patient as she had been when she was Brother Elias, calming their patients with her cooling touch. Hans continued to mix herbs as his mentor had taught him. In a way, they were more in sync in their work than they had ever been. Perhaps their newfound understanding had allowed them to communicate better.

Has would be lying if he said the tenor of their interactions had not changed slightly. How could he go on as he had, knowing that his companion was not a scrawny youth but a beautiful woman? He found himself thinking things that would make his confessor’s hair curl. Maybe I was wrong, he thought wryly, and she really is a demon sent to tempt me, specifically?

But he had other reasons for avoiding the confessional, not least of which was his dislike for the novices’ confessor. He could not risk anyone learning their secret, especially a busybody such as him. And he could not bring himself to lie before God. If he were to be struck down and be sent to Hell for dying without absolution, so be it. It would be worth it to protect her.

Their newfound peace was to be short-lived. Hans was at the riverbank fetching water when he spied a familiar horse. He would know that bay anywhere, and he knew its rider could not be far away. Before he could turn around, he felt a blade at his throat.

“Hello, dear brother,” came a voice.

“Sweyn.” His oldest brother and his father’s favorite. The King would send him on any business he could not attend to himself.

“Now, now, what kind of a greeting is that for your future king?” He removed the blade and spun Hans around to face him.

“What do you want?” he ground out, “I take it this is not a social call.”

“Good guess, little brother. Father’s troops are three days march from here. He’s heard rumors that the Snow Queen is in these parts. He wants to know if they are true.”

“How should I know? I’m cooped up in that monastery all the time. I haven’t seen a woman for weeks. And even if I had seen her, why should I help Father? He’s the one who sent me to this place to rot.” Sweyn smiled a toothy grin.

“Because if you don’t, I will kill you and dump your body through that hole in the ice. And if you do, Father will carve out some of Arendelle just for you. I’m sure we can find some land for little Hans.” The offer was tempting. All his life, he had dreamed of being somebody important, of having something that was just his. If he had lands of his own, he could realize that dream. But as he considered, he realized he could not trust anything Sweyn said. This was the man who had once claimed to see a comet and then tried to push him out of a third-floor window. Hans had been lucky to be able seize a shutter to prevent the fall. He hoped a similar lifeline would come to him now.

“I cannot help you. Like I said, I haven’t seen a woman in weeks.” If there was one thing Hans knew, it was how to lie.

“Surely you must have heard some talk?”

“Gossip is strictly forbidden for monks. We are punished harshly for breaking silence. I know nothing.”

“Some spy you turned out to be. Even here you cannot escape your penchant for failure.” Hans did not let the words rile him.

“If you want my opinion, the queen and the princess are both dead and have been for a long time.” His brother snorted.

“Wrong as usual. I know for a fact that the princess is in Corona. She waits there for her sister as she raises an army. That is why we must strike fast.” Hans was surprised his brother would admit to feeling any pressure from the princess of Arendelle.

“See, you know more than I do.” Sweyn was suspicious by nature, but Hans could tell that he believed him.

“It is a pity you speak the truth, brother. I would have so loved to leave your body under the ice. Perhaps I still shall. But no, father will want an inside man when he lays siege to the city. Such a pity, but there will always be another opportunity.” It spoke to their relationship that these death threats neither shocked nor upset Hans. He knew his brother would not hesitate to make good on them, but he also knew his father would never allow Sweyn off the leash like that. Not while he was still alive, at least.

“Goodbye, Sweyn.” And like that, his brother had vanished, melting back into the barren forest.

-

He met Elsa in the stables, where he was certain they would not be overheard.

“My father’s troops are only a few days march away from here. We must flee tonight.”

“We are not going to do anything. I will leave on my own.” Hans could not believe his ears.

“Are you insane? It’s much too dangerous for you to travel alone. The roads are a lawless place, and anything could happen.”

“You forget, Brother Hans, that I have a unique weapon in my arsenal. Any who tried to cross me would find himself much the worse for it. No, I will not let you leave behind your vows for my sake.”

“Forget my vows!” said Hans, wishing he could use stronger language, “I did not choose this life of my own free will. I would gladly abandon it to travel with you to Corona.” He would gladly travel with her for as long as she would let him. Elsa was silent for a long moment.

“Very well. It seems you have made up your mind already. I will send word ahead to ready a ship for us.”

“How?” As far as Hans knew, Elsa had no contact with anyone outside the abbey.

“I have my ways. You must only concern yourself with readying the horses.”

-

They sneaked out directly after Compline. With any luck, they would not be missed until Matins, and a search party would not be sent until the next morning. Hans led them to an abandoned barn near a field where they used to gather herbs. They could wait there until true nightfall when they could travel on the roads more covertly.

In the gathering darkness, he asked the question that had been on his mind for the last week: “Were you dreaming about your sister?”

“Hm?”

“That night in the herb shed. You called out for Anna. It must have been a pretty unpleasant dream.” He could hear her shifting her weight uncomfortably, and he thought maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

At last, she said, “I was dreaming about the night our parents died. The two of us managed to escape from the castle together, but we were separated in the commotion. We were being attacked from all sides. I tried to use my ice to protect us, but I’ve never had very good control over it. It was all I could do to hold them off while Anna fled. I don’t know what happened to her after that. If I could have just made a stable barrier, we could have fled together. I could have continued to protect her. As it stands, she’s probably dead because of me.” He could hear that she was trying not to cry and probably failing. He reached out to wrap an arm around her, surprised when she did not pull away.

“The princess is not dead. According to my brother, she’s waiting for you in Corona with an army.”

“What?” Elsa sniffed, “Do you believe him?”

“Not as a rule, no. But he would have no reason to lie about that particular fact, especially because it makes my father look bad.”

“That’s… wonderful!” said Elsa, still sounding slightly shocked, “I can’t believe—” But her elation was cut short when they heard the snap of a branch outside. Hans was immediately on his guard. He hoped it was not someone from the abbey, or worse, the sheriff. Would he be able to kill if that were what it came down to? Yes, he decided, he would. He hoped his swordsmanship had not suffered too much from lack of practice in the abbey.

“Brother Hans?” called a voice, and Hans immediately relaxed.

“Brother!” he shouted, “In here!” A silhouette appeared in the doorway and he felt Elsa tense next to him. But the light of the lantern he carried soon identified him as the herbalist.

“Is the queen with you?”

“How did he know?” hissed Elsa in his ear. Hans wanted to reply that he somehow knew everything, but the older man beat him to it.

“I knew from the first that you were not a young man. No one but a monk who had spent his whole life cloistered away from women would ever believe your disguise. As for the other, did you think I would not notice the way the oil bottles froze when you touched them? God has given you a rare gift, your Majesty. I hope you will someday grow to love it.”

“Thank you,” Elsa spluttered. The herbalist turned to Hans.

“And you will be her steward on the journey to Corona? I trust you will not take advantage of your role.”

“Of course not. But her Majesty has little need for a steward. She has power enough to foil any who might wish to harm her.”

“Very good, very good.”

“You’re not going to turn us in?” asked Elsa, sounding slightly incredulous.

“The Church may have chosen to support King Harald, but I myself prefer to remain neutral. They have not missed you yet at the abbey. In the morning, the sheriff may receive information that you are making a break for the North Sea. The road to the southern ports should be clear at least until then.”

“How can we ever thank you?” said Elsa. The monk smiled.

“The best thanks you can give me is to live safely and well.”

Night had truly fallen. They led the horses out of the barn and mounted near the fence. Hans relished the feeling of riding again. He had missed it after all this time. The herbalist turned to say goodbye. Suddenly Hans felt a wave of sorrow wash over him, for the loss of the abbey and his vows and all the other things he had thought he never cared about before.

“Brother,” he called, “I’m sorry to be leaving you. I know the oath is supposed to be for life.”

“The purpose of the novitiate period is to determine one’s suitability for monastic life. Clearly you are destined for other things. Go in peace, my children.”

They waved goodbye to the herbalist and set off on the southbound road. As they road through the wood, Hans felt freer than he ever had in his life. Within a day, they would be at the sea. After that, he knew not what lay in store.

When they reached a crossroad, Elsa called to him, “Which way, Brother Hans?”

Indicating the path, he said, “I don’t think you have to call me ‘Brother Hans’ anymore.”

“Oh, what should I call you, then? Have you decided to go back to your old title?”

“No, just ‘Hans.’ ‘Hans’ is fine.”

“All right then, Hans.” He felt a little thrill at the way she said it.

As they rode through the night, Hans found himself imagining his future. He could see Elsa once again on the throne of Arendelle, himself a fixture at her side. Maybe someday, she could even grow to love him. Or perhaps that was just a fantasy. But whatever the future held, he knew his father would rue the day he had sent his youngest son to an abbey in Arendelle. Hans, on the other hand, had never been more grateful for anything in his life.

***

Author’s Note: I heard the Helsa fandom has a thing about priests, so I... wrote something totally unsexy about monks instead? Truly the fanfiction equivalent of when you order a Coke and the waitress asks, “Is Pepsi okay?”

Any fans of Brother Cadfael will notice quite a few Easter eggs sprinkled throughout. (And by Easter eggs I mean blatant plagiarism.) I considered cutting out some of the world-building of how Frozen maps onto The Anarchy, but I left it in because I liked it. It’s my sleepover, and I get to choose the movie! And hey, it worked for Victor Hugo. 

I can’t express how much I appreciate my readers and the response you’ve given me! Enjoy! <3

#helsa #helsasummerevent #helsasummerevent2020 #frozen #hans #elsa #cadfael references #medieval au #fanfic

[poptod]

rantipole (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: rantipole (v.) - to be wild and reckless

Word Count: 2.9k

You know him well – too well, maybe. Your mother said that about two years into your friendship, claiming you 'needed other friends,' which you never actually got despite her insistence. Watching him grow with you and never counting the days, wasting away your youth in all the best ways possible, it was hard to want more than that. Him and his long eyelashes, the dusting of the freckles across his cheekbones. That was special. That was yours. He was special. You were his; sometimes you wondered if he in his entirety belonged to you. Would you even deserve it if you did?

Unlike you, he had lots of friends. Not that he was very close with any of them; according to you, there were two very distinctive sides of him, and a third that was false. The third was the way you met him, acting a polite little Christian boy in front of his parents – you'd thought him so sweet and innocent. Then he opened his mouth and the bitter scent of alcohol scented filthy words that would taint Lucifer himself. That was the second side of him, the one he used in front of his classmates, the one the general world knew, the one that every girl fell for, the one every boy yearned to both hate and love. It took a long while before you discovered his first side, though, and it was one you were happy to never share. Thoughtful, with every remembered fact and logged memory that made up the image of you that he knew. He remembered the way you took your coffee, not that he put it to use very often, and he remembered your siblings and your pets, your favorite color and each joke you couldn't help but laugh at. It was sweet. He was sweet, but you'd never tell him that.

For the longest time you had no idea as to why he bothered to spend time with you. He had other people much more interesting, and your mother wondered the same thing – she knew of his reputation around school. The question dissipated after a few years, vanishing as fast as it had come. Some things simply were that way, and it just so happened he was built for you as you were built for him, matching for the sake of matching. Nothing else seemed important, certainly not your massive crush on him that started around the age of 15.

The two of you were rather different. It was probably why your mother was ever so dubious about your friendship, which, in hindsight looking back at your childhood, was a valid query. You were silent. You never raised your hand in class and your comments to the general populace consisted mainly of 'excuse me,' 'thank you,' and 'sorry.' He was sultry, outspoken at the worst of times and coy at the best, which you adored about him. Like a show only you two could ever know, you pretended around others, put up false personalities and never minded the comments on your stark friendship.

It was sometime in later high school years that he started drinking heavily. This fact isn't worth mentioning for any horrible reason; he did not become violent, he did not use harsh words, he did not change as a person. He did, however, most definitely become a frequent user, and while this fact by itself means very little it marks the point where, from your point of view, your relationship pulled a whole 180.

You could clearly remember the first time he got drunk in front of you, for better or worse (though, with your mental health in question, probably for worse). A school dance where some freshman laced the juice bowl with cheap, strong alcohol they'd gotten from their parents. The teachers never found out who it was, only that it had to be a freshman, which you and Merriel found hilarious. At the time, however, he fully indulged himself, swinging haphazardly from the metal drain pipes while you watched in unaltered silence. He'd sung, something you couldn't understand or bother yourself with attempting to recognize, and continued to do so for the next ten minutes. The second you tried to help him, reach your hand out to stop his dizzying swinging, your touch shocked him into some sick form of sobriety.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, tighter than he'd ever held you and pulled you far away from the drainpipes out back of the school. Trampling muddy feet through the hallways he led you to the janitors closet – a place the two of you frequented when up to mischief – pushed you inside, followed you, locked the door behind the two of you, and with that the light went out. You felt your back hit the wall behind you with little grace, a firm hand on your shoulder pushing you into it and forcing you to stay. Then his breath, hot and harsh against your skin, brushed up your neck, stopping right below your ear where he proceeded to bite at you, drawing the slightest amount of blood as you yelped quietly. His lips met yours and in an instant your heart burnt to ash, your mind running with a million thoughts and your body forcing a thousand actions out of you. You'd never done that before, never been touched like that, certainly not in such a passionate fashion as his. Desperate to feel your heat his hands ran up your shirt, grasping tight around your bare waist and pulling you closer.

That was six years ago. From that night onwards he never stopped, and the situation mutated into something you never saw happening at any point in your life. At least twice a week he would invite you to a night out (you always said yes), and usually in one of those evenings he would drink to blackout, pull you into a closet, and kiss you fiercer than any of your partners ever would.

Tonight is one of those nights. It hasn't happened yet but you can already see it on the horizon, growing closer with each shot he took, competing against a heavy-set man wearing a leather biker's vest. You sat at the bar, watching them sit across from each other and down their drinks. Fortunately for the both of you, the biker-man's friend decided to fund the expedition, which made Merriel lose what little self restraint he had.

After the tenth-or-so shot they're fully inebriated (it didn't really help that he'd had two beers before this), swaying in their seats as you just laugh, watching as they attempt to force down another. Five more and the biker passes out, Merriel shouting out his victory in a slurred voice. Around him the audience cheers, patting him on the back as he tries to stand, making the short way back to you.

"Impressed?" He asks, his tongue heavy in his mouth. You chuckle, shaking your head – he's taken more and been fine, not that he should've.

"Yes. Terribly impressed," is what you say instead. He grins wide, the expression melting as his gaze lingers on you, on your lips, as he bites at his lower lip and his eyes glaze over.

Reaching towards you his fingers wrap around your wrist, something you've grown to know as familiar, something that makes you both sick and excited. He pulls you off your stool, dragging you through the disordered crowd towards the back door of the bar. In an instant the cold air hits you, distant jazz music echoing in the empty alley filled with trash and mysterious fluids. Curling his fingers tighter around you he pushes you up against the brick wall, pressing his chest right against yours till the scent of his intoxication fills your head, dizzying your thoughts till his lips meld with yours. He's soft, he's always been soft but his actions say otherwise. He grips at your hair, tugging and biting at your lip, practically grinding into you as soft pants fall between you.

"God, I love you," he mutters, the words kissing themselves into you, shocking you into stillness.

"What?" You breath out, trying to stop his frantic hands searching your body. It's the first time he's said that.

"I want you to be mine, entirely," he admits, just barely leaving your space to say the words before he attempts to lean in again, which you respond to with pushing him away. Your mind is melting, and now not just at his touch – he's never said anything even remotely like that, not in any drunken make-out session he's initiated or in any holy, quiet space. He's not that kind of person, he doesn't say things like that.

"You're drunk," you say at last as he stares into your eyes. You should've said that sooner, six years sooner, but you were wrapped up in the secrecy, the pleasure. You should've said something sooner.

"Then remind me in the mornin'," he mumbles, his accent growing thicker as he pulls you closer by the waist. You acquiesce, letting gentle kisses patter against your jawline and neck, against your lips and your temple. As your eyelids flutter shut from his touch, the evening dissipates into nothing as it always does.

In the morning, you wake up first, your hair a mess when you rise from your untidy bed. A glance to the side and half the sheets are off the bed, Merriel snoring on the floor with his limbs splayed out. Trying to keep your laugh quiet, you leave the room on tip toe, shutting the door behind you as you go to make breakfast. When he wakes up he sits at the table and you say nothing. He doesn't need to know what you heard last night, and you don't need confusion and chaos in your life.

Four days later he invites you to a party that his coworker is hosting at some sort of bar, a much nicer one than the last time he promises. Unfortunately, he alerts you of this occasion about an hour before it's supposed to start, making you rush through your clothing choices and styling. Halfway through finishing your hair he grabs your hand, tugging you out of the bathroom and rushing you outside where you grab a taxi in the rain.

"You can't just tell me when things are happening an hour before they're happening," you say in the car, fidgeting in your clothes and anxiously checking your hair in the rear view mirror.

"T' be fair, I didn't know it was happening. I jus' got a call from him," he explains with a shrug, feeling a whole lot more nonchalant than you felt, your hand clutched on your wallet.

Blue lights shine onto the wet pavement, bright lines striking against the rain as you open the car door, stepping outside. Merriel puts his hand on the small of your back, rushing you inside to avoid the rain. Once inside the touch ceases, not that you really notice – that's something he often does. The bar sat in the left corner of the large room, the blue tiles of the counter spanning a good amount of space, sitting opposite of the raised platform where a jazz band plays. In the hazy smoke from the many lit cigarettes you could see the dim blue lights, shadowing your skin and obscuring the specifics of everyone's faces.

"How could Pat afford a band?" You ask in a whisper, leaning in so only Merriel could hear you.

"I dunno, I don't think this is his joint, if y' know what I mean," he says, not turning to you, his eye caught on some girl ordering a Shirley temple at the bar.

"Go have fun," you say with a small chuckle, pushing him forward. He stumbles slightly but takes the steps toward her, and from there you look away, trying to interest yourself in the bass line of the melody swirling in the smoke.

For the most part you don't drink alcohol. If you ever got drunk with Merriel around you knew how it would turn out – you knew you'd wake up with regret, probably with him naked in your bed because for some reason when he's drunk he can't get enough of you. There was only one time you got drunk, and that was alone at home in high school, and the entire time you couldn't stop thinking about him. His mannerisms, the short and quick movements of his fingers when he's anxious, the way he sucks in a breath whenever he's in awe. At the time you couldn't get it out of your head, and now watching him flirt with the Shirley temple girl you find yourself so much like you were in high school. When his fingers drag over her face, pushing her black hair out of her face you almost break the coaster you'd been fiddling with. You promptly look away again.

Over the course of the night several people ask you to dance, the music picking up as the lights grow into a dizzying intensity, but you decline each time. Instead you just watch, you watch Merriel drift from girl to girl. His belt is tight around his hips, showing off his thin waist with the button down that bundles around his chest and arms, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows. What started as neat, trimmed hair becomes messy and unkempt throughout his avid dancing. You're content to watch, or that's what you tell yourself – either way you remain unmoved from your seat, the pop in your hands fizzing away as it looses its cold. You don't bother to keep track of how many drinks Merriel has had either, since you can already tell from the way he sways on his feet and the slur in his accent.

Somewhere around midnight he approaches you, sitting in the chair beside yours. Resting his chin on his palm, he stares at you, absorbing your entirety, or something like that; it's a little hard to tell when his stare is discomforting. He's got wide eyes that look like he's gone into shell shock sometimes, an intensity you can very rarely stand. You certainly can't stand it this time, so you look back out into the crowd, pretending you can't feel him burning holes into your face.

"(Y/N)," he says, and you turn to him. After that he says nothing, just reaching for you, fingers brushing against your cheek just like how he brushed the hair away from the Shirley temple girl.

"You alright?" You ask in full awareness that no, he's not alright.

In full view of the crowd he leans in, kissing you before you could even process that he'd grown closer, moving soft and tender against you, yearning for your touch against his. You want to pull away, you feel sick when you think about how anyone could see, but your body thinks otherwise. Reaching for him you can feel your fingers wrapping around his wrist, feeling his pulse rushing against yours. He pulls you closer. You don't know how to say no when all you can do is love him better.

"People can see us," you finally say in a quiet voice, barely able to say the words before his lips meet yours once more.

"Why the hell do you care?"

"I dunno, I just thought..." he pulls away, never breaking eye contact as he leans back in his seat. "I thought you'd mind."

Usually when he drunk-kisses you he does it in private.

"I don't care if the world knows I love you," he says, the second time he's said that, and you're still in shock from the first time he said it so your stupor only grows worse. As you try to process his words he leans in again, his hand coming to the back of your head and forcing you closer, closer still, like you give him purpose, like a moment without you is a moment unworthy of living remembrance.

"You're drunk," you say in a stumble, unsure of what else to say.

"Then remind me in the mornin'," he replies in a murmur. It's exactly what he said last time, and just like last time his hand moves to your waist and pulls you into his world of electrifying touch.

You say nothing in the morning.

This becomes the new routine – get drunk, confess your love, get 'rejected,' and forget in the morning. It repeats over and over again till you almost grow sick of it. He can't say anything when he's sober, and you don't trust that, so you never remind him and he never brings it up. You don't even know if he remembers. He probably doesn't, considering he never acts as though anything has changed, but you know he's smart. He bides his time, he's witty, and he's cunning – if he has something planned he's made sure you know nothing. It's a trait you admire and abhor.

Maybe one day you'll tell him. You'll tell him how you love his voice, the way he mumbles his words and the intensity he carries constantly, how he dresses and the way he walks. He'll know you adore him for everything he is, and yeah – he probably won't believe you. He'll probably say 'I don't deserve this.' He'll treat you like you're precious, like you're fragile and any false move will break your trust and ruin your relationship.

Maybe one day, you keep telling yourself, watching him dance with other people. Maybe one day he'll know you're his, that you've been his the entire time, that he never needed to lie or try so hard, that you simply liked him for who he is.

Who knows.

#snafu x reader #merriel snafu shelton #rami malek #the pacific #rami malek character #gender neutral reader

[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.

#Park Jimin #BTS #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungguk #Kim Seokjin #Kim Namjoon #Min Yoongi #Jeon Hoseok #J-Hope #Suga #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #BTS FANFICTION #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #bangtansmutcentral #bangtanarmynet #taekooksfxck #Jimin Smut #Yoongi Smut

[emjenwrites]

I think I've seen this film before / And I didn't like the ending [A Peaky Blinders Fanfic]

Written for @peakysource’s Peaky Blinders Appreciation Week Day 2: Tradition.

S5 flipped my opinions on Linda and Arthur and then this fic happened. Also the dynamic that Tommy and Linda have is really interesting and I should fiddle with it some more.

Also please forgive my cheesy Attack of the Clones reference as a nod to my Star Wars days.

Title from "exile" by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver (because, yes, I am apparently still that person).

The door to the small apartment opened and Linda’s mother stumbled inside bringing with her the stench of alcohol and a deluge of incoherent, drunken mumblings. Ten-year-old Linda, tensed under the covers of her small bed but didn’t dare move. Maybe, just maybe, if she didn’t move Mum would just go to sleep and that would be that.

Please. She begged. Please let her just pass out and that be that. Please.

But luck was not with her. Luck was never with her. Linda’s mum staggered over to the pallet and collapsed onto it already in a wailing state. The words poured out of her, tumbling over each other in their hurry to get out. The story of how she hadn’t meant to go to the pub, but had somehow ended up there anyway. The story of all the beer and whiskey she’d drank and the strange men she’d kissed. The story of how she’d ended up outside the window of the nice apartment Linda’s father now shared with the young woman he’d abandoned them for, howling in pain and rage just like so many nights before. She was in so much pain. She’d been in pain for a long time, but it had gotten worse since Linda’s father had left.

Listening to her story, Linda began to feel guilty for her resentment. Her mum needed someone, and Linda was all she had now. It was cruel of Linda not to try to help.

“It’ll be alright, Mum,” Linda whispered, hugging her mother like perhaps that would fix everything that was lost. “It will get better.”

She whispered late into the night, promising that things would be better and soothing hurts and fixing problems.

After all, someone had to do it.

~~~~

Linda grew up and got out. The Quakers offered her the out that she needed. They offered a place to start fresh and a purpose to dedicate her life too. Her mum drank herself to death. Linda tried to pretend she didn’t resent the woman.

Years passed and she dedicated her life to the Friends and to the betterment of the world. Life made sense with the Quakers and she was happy.

Then she met Arthur Shelby.

He was drunk the first time they met. Drunk and high. The Peaky Blinders were celebrating some kind of victory and Arthur had wandered away from the festivities. Linda and a friend were on their way back from ministering to an elderly woman and they found Arthur passed out in an alley. Mary had wanted to keep walking, but Linda had stopped and propped him up and coaxed him back to consciousness—it wasn’t hard, years didn’t wipe away all the practice she’d had during her formative years.

“Are you an angel?” Arthur asked when he’d come around. Mary snorted.

“What makes you think I’m an angel?” Linda asked, unable to tell exactly what kind of emotion she felt.

“You look like one,” Arthur slurred. He was vilely drunk. It was almost too much like her mother. Linda almost wished she’d just kept walking. It was a horribly un-Christian thought, and she reprimanded herself for it. After all, wasn’t it her duty to care for those who could not care for themselves? Of course, it was, even if “those” was currently drunken men lying in alleyways.

“I assure you, I’m no angel,” she said. “What’s your name? Where do you live? We can get you home?”

Arthur muttered something mostly unintelligible about brothers and brushed one of her curls away from her face. “You’re beautiful as an angel,” he slurred. In spite of herself, Linda blushed.

That was when Arthur’s brothers showed up. They’d both had a fair bit to drink themselves and John especially was a laughing mess, teasing Arthur for his undignified state until Arthur spluttered with dumbfounded rage and Linda felt required to step in on his behalf. That got her nothing but a mocking laugh and an ill-disguised innuendo from John and a soul-cutting stare from Tommy, who Linda did her utmost to ignore.

Arthur’s brothers hauled him to his feet and Linda thought his brief appearance in her life was at an end when he paused and asked. “Can I see you again?”

John snorted and Tommy rolled his eyes and Linda should have said no. She could feel Mary’s eyes burning to the back of her head telling her to say no, but somehow the words wouldn’t form. “I would like that,” she said. And just like that it was like she had never escaped at all.

~~~~

To be fair, it took Linda years to realize that she’d willing stepped back into the circumstances of her childhood that night. In her mind, Arthur was nothing like her mum. Her mum had been needy and demanding. Arthur was like a helpless lamb—a very violent helpless lamb, but a helpless lamb nonetheless. He needed help and guidance, someone to make sure that he stayed on the correct path and someone to offer him the reassurance he needed when things became too overwhelming.

It wasn’t until years into her marriage that Linda looked at the life she had built with Arthur Shelby at the center of it and admitted to herself that the differences between this and the circumstances of her upbringing were only superficial. Her existence revolved around fixing Arthur, forgiving him for his transgressions, giving him all the reassurance and guidance he needed not to crumble. She had functionally recreated her childhood again with a different person.

She gave him the opportunity to fix things. He did not so she left. She went back to the Quakers, where she had found peace and purpose before and this time she found another man too, one who looked at her and listened like she was worth something as herself not as a bottomless pit of reassurance and answers.

And then he was dead. Killed. Murdered. Rage brought her to Arrow House with the intention of killing Arthur the way he had killed a man who had done nothing wrong to anyone—not that that was anything new, not where the Shelbys were concerned. It didn’t go according to plan and Arthur had the audacity to act like she would still give him all the comfort and absolution he craved afterwards.

She fled the house in the aftermath of that night like a ghost, not convinced she’d be allowed to leave if anyone caught her. She’d just made it to the entry way when a voice called after her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She froze and turned back. Tommy Shelby stood in the shadows of one of the corners, watching her. He looked tired and for one of the first times that she could recall he did not wear it well. Linda imagined she looked similar. She almost sobbed. She just wanted to leave this hell house and never return, but if Tommy had decided to stop her there was absolutely nothing she would be able to do to about it.

“I’m leaving,” she answered his question, trying to sound more certain than she actually was. “I’m done with this. With all of this.”

Tommy raised a tired eyebrow. “Good luck escaping it,” he said, then turned on his heel and vanished in the bowels of the house, letting her leave unimpeded.

It wasn’t until she was in the car leaving Arrow House behind that she realized that might have been the only time she and Tommy Shelby ever perfectly understood each other, which only made her hope more fervently that he was wrong.

She didn’t think he was.

#pbweek2020 #peakysource #peaky blinders #linda shelby #arthur shelby #arthur x linda #tommy shelby #mine #the linda fic #pb appreciation week

[sacrvligious]

[ CHARLIE HUNNAM, FORTY, CIS MALE, HE / HIM ] Have you seen CONNOR REED down in St. Landry again? I heard they’re one of the HEAD ASSASSIN, for the POWELLS now. They’ve been so WITHDRAWN & DESTRUCTIVE lately, it’s no wonder. I’ll sure miss when they were DUTIFUL & LOYAL. I wonder if they’re going to stop listening to BLASPHEMY by BMTH now, or if CALLOUSED HANDS AND BRUISED KNUCKLES, JAW CONSTANTLY CLENCHED, OBSERVING FROM THE CORNER OF THE ROOM WHILE SMOKING will still announce ‘em. 

basics

full name:  connor david reed

nickname(s):  con

age:  forty

date of birth:  august seventh

place of birth:  california 

gender:  cis male

sexual orientation:  heterosexual

romantic orientation:  heterosexual

religion:  agnostic

occupation:  head assassin ( powells )

language(s) spoken:  english

physical

face claim:  charlie hunnam

hair color:  blonde

eye color:  blue 

height:  6’

weight: 179lbs

build:  fit, muscular.

tattoos:  both half sleeves, reaper/skull aesthetic, his sons names on right forearm, calla over his chest (heart, how sappy)

piercings:  none.

distinguishing characteristics:  usually scowling. 

personality

positive traits:  dutiful, headstrong, productive, adaptable, brave.

negative traits:  volatile, irascible, stubborn, abrasive, grim.

fears:  losing his family.

hobbies:  ...fighting? killing.

quirks:  jaw clenching, balling fists, averting gaze.

family

father:  william (bill) thomas, incarcerated 

mother:  elizabeth reed-thomas, deceased

sibling(s):  n / a

significant other: calanthe (calla) scott-reed

children: cohen & christian reed

TRIGGER WARNINGS,  mentions  of  alcoholism, death ( by car crash ), abuse.

The world never stood a chance from even the root of his childhood. The violence that rocked the home he grew up, and oh how quick he was forced to do so, was enough to shake even the strongest of men and women, let alone a small child who knew no better. Or different. While violence and abuse seemed to be the constant tune to which his days and nights were spent, alcohol appeared to be its lullaby. A finger never laid upon his son, but that did not make bill thomas any less of a monster, and he made his son the audience for all the abuse his mother suffered.

years passed and time only thickened the inherited temper in con’s chest. It would only continue to grow, knowing no bounds, along with the hate he stored for his father. he fought him, for her, protected her. His urgency to protect was the only thing that out weighed his rage. Con was never one to feel things lightly. His emotions consume him, and his passion is violent and dangerous. when he lost his mother at the young age of nineteen, things took a darker twist. 

His father had been behind the wheel, alcohol tainting his blood, and his mother in the seat beside him. Bill could have been miles away from that vehicle, and he would have shouldered his son’s blame for his wife’s death regardless, being the real reason for her passing . . . it carved a dark hole into his son, one he already was chipping away at. 

Bill went to prison for manslaughter, and con found a new family; a local mc gang. There were outlets for his anger in the jobs they had him run, and when he couldn’t get it out with his fists, he found solace on his bike. Things, though dark and still partially hollow, were smoothing out. Then he met her.

In the beginning, she was a friday night or a late hour text, but then she became sunday mornings. All the while, she was everything eh wanted but couldn’t have, and yet . . . he continued to have her. Calla was not only a part of the gang rivaling his own, but eventually at the second in command’s side as his. That didn’t stop them, if anything, it just had them finding new places and ways to hide; the thrill of the ride. That was until two little pink lines altered their reality entirely. 

No second thought or hesitation was had in his proposal to her, both to leave town and for her hand on their way out. She claimed to know someone down in louisiana, and off their adventure began. Shortly after arriving to st landry, their son cohen was born and christian followed nearly a year later.  

Is there a man out for Con’s blood and head for stealing her? Probably, but they were nothing if not slick in their hiding habits. They had practice, after all. 

Con was quick to adopt his new profession, he had experience and his apathy while on the job made for a rather ruthless killer who got the job done. Also, his intense desire to keep those around him protected was a plus as well. He is emotionless in his work, he gets it down with little to no remorse and the blood on his hands is concerning but so long as he has Calla to wash it from his skin, he is content. 

Aside from his wife, sons and the family he works for, Con is rather distant and cold to everyone else. Even to his employers and coworkers sometimes, really the only people who can get him to really smile is his family. He hates that his temper is even worse than his father’s was, because he hated his father and becoming his was one of his worst fears. Now, he’s not Bill Thomas, he’s Con Reed and that’s so much worse.

He kills for a living, you don’t want to know what he would do for his family should the worst situation arise.

Only Calla calls him Connor. Pls don’t try, he might punch.

He barely, barely drinks. I wouldn’t say he is completely sober but he doesn’t get drunk, and if he is out drinking, he is a One Beer A Night kind of guy. However, he does smoke cigarettes.

#renn.intro #conintro.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Who said black cats were just bad luck? (Prompt: Stars)

Nathan Arch and Joey Drew had been ‘friends’ since the pair were young boys. Nathan was a studious child who even at a young age, took his family’s image and reputation seriously and saw supernatural forces as nothing more than silly superstition and myths. Joey on the other hand, was an energetic and mischievous little imp of a child who believed in the supernatural forces. So naturally, they hated each other on sight at first.

In childhood, the boys’ relationship was strained even further by their parents forcing them to be the best of friends when the pair barely had anything in common aside from their mutual dislike for having their afternoons, weekends, and summers being ‘wasted’ in each other’s presence.

This had led to Nathan bullying the smaller kid, nothing like punching or kicking the impish boy, Nathan Arch was no brute. But he did make fun of Joey, a lot. Most often by mocking his supernatural interests, calling them silly and childish as well as occasionally ruining the boy’s belongings whenever he was too irritated to deal with him. Joey of course didn’t take this lying down and had retaliated by playing nasty pranks on Nathan; shaking up soda bottles, putting creepy bugs in his things, drawing rude pictures into his school books, things like that.

Nathan compared the ritual circles in Joey’s father’s books to something like “wishing on a shooting star, but this one is just drawn on the ground with chalk.”, and Joey would fill his school bag with earthworms. Joey would tie Nathan’s shoes together and laugh as he fell on his face, and Nathan would throw one of Joey’s sketchbooks in a muddy puddle.

Then, ‘the incident’ happened and Joey returned from visiting Henry’s hometown with an injured leg and now had a haunted look in his eyes.

The boys’ petty rivalry was snuffed out soon afterwards; Nathan knew that guilt would eat him alive if he tried anything and Joey seemed to wrapped up in his own struggles to even bother trying to mess with Nathan. Either out of pity, guilt, or a mix of the two, Nathan did try to reach out to Joey, whether it was with a ‘get well soon’ card that came in a gift basket or seeing him in person at the hospital, but it was obvious that it was a bad idea for him to push anything further.

Whether their parents decided it was in poor taste to continue to shove them together in the hopes of them being friends or some Doctor gave an order for Joey to rest, the two drifted apart shortly after the incident. 

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A few years later, Nathan Arch had gotten into a good college and was just setting up his side of the Dorm when he heard someone else come in.

“Archie? Is that you? How long has it been?!”

Turning around to face his new roommate, Nathan Arch’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the man he hadn’t since childhood. Joey carried around a cane now for obvious reasons, he had gone from a pipsqueak of a child to a beanstalk of a young adult, and he was a lot neater (at least, appearance-wise) than he was as an unruly little imp. But the mischievous spark had been re-lit in his eyes.

“Drew? Why, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

He hesitated for a second, what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could just pretend that their history was nothing but dust under the rug, but at the same time, he’d much rather carry on a conversation that matched Joey’s upbeat tone... No, this was just like medicine, swallow it down first and fast, and then it does its job.

“Joey... About how I treated you when we were kids... I’m Sorry. It was petty and cruel of me to take out my frustrations on you when neither of us had any say in the matter of how our lives went. And I deeply regret it, I can understand if-ACK!”

He was cut off by Joey crushing him in a bear hug.

“I forgive you, you verbose, pompous airbag.”

Rolling his eyes at the insult, Nathan hugged Joey back.

Having Joey as a roommate was an... interesting experience. It was a mostly positive one as in spite of his cheerful demeanor and strong preference towards the arts as opposed to business or something of that sort, he was not a man child and did follow the rules and assigned chores of the dorms.

Compared to other students at the college, Nathan probably lucked out when he got Joey, but there was just one little thing about Joey that bothered him, nothing too serious, just a little itch of a problem.

For the most part, Joey talked about his father’s arcane tomes and spell books a lot less than he used to as a kid, but now on the once in a blue moon occasion where he did speak of the occult, he took it a lot more seriously. Perhaps even more seriously than christian priests teaching the word of God. The man treated magic how Nathan wished Joey would treat money; warning against using it frivolously, not using it when he didn’t need it, and looking into the pros and cons of each and every spell before using it.

It didn’t come up often enough for Nathan to be too nervous, but there were a few instances in college where Joey’s occultism was strongly noticeable, and not just on Halloween...

While Nathan was mature enough to keep his thoughts to himself, some things could never change. Like his views on the supernatural. He still saw magic as something fictional, but he also saw how important it was to Joey, and part of him feared that bringing up his opinions about magic would send the two back into being rivals, so he kept his mouth shut.

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While the four years of college flew by a little too quickly for Nathan’s liking, he was pleasantly surprised by how well those four years had not only repaired his and Joey’s relationship. Going from near strangers with an unpleasant history to genuine friends who kept in touch with each other even after college was just a memory in the rear-view mirror of the past. Heck, Joey even was the best man at Nathan’s wedding! And he had the pictures on his mantle piece to prove it!

Nathan was looking through a scrapbook Joey had made and sent to the happy couple as a wedding gift. It contained various pictures of the dates the two went on and the last few pages were pictures of the proposal itself. Nathan smiled as he flipped through the book, wondering what kind of gift he should make Joey in return for his own wedding (if he ever decided to marry).

But that smile fell into a concerned frown as he saw the last page; symbols he recognized from Joey’s spell books: a long forgotten language within a circle that entrapped an upside-down star. The ‘explanation’ was that this was a good luck spell wishing him and Tessa a happy future as husband and wife.

He sighed, closed the book with a little more force than he meant to, and flopped down on the couch. As if she could sense that he was upset, Tessa had come into the living room right as he tossed the book to the other end of the couch.

“Nate? What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, Tess.”

“About Joey?”

“Yes, I had assumed that he’d grow out of this silly superstitious nonsense sometime when he genuinely matured into adulthood, but if anything, he’s gotten even worse! It’s one thing to go to church every Sunday or to read a Torah, but at best what he’s getting himself into is setting himself up to be scammed by every phony fortune teller on the block and at worse it’s genuine devil’s worship!”

Tessa nodded in sympathy.

“So do you just need to get this off your chest or do you want advice, Dear?”

Unbeknownst to the couple, a shooting star past by outside.

“Well, as much as I’d like to get advice, I don’t know what on earth could work, Joey and I were practically at each other’s throats all the time before ...his incident. While “magic” was there for him for his entire life... I want to help him out of this but I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I just wish I could understand him and why he’s so invested in all that sorcery-crap!”

“You know Nate, sometimes I feel the same way.”

“The floor’s all yours, Doll.”

“I think I can understand the appeal of just wanting to snap your fingers and make every problem you have get carried off by living furnature or whatnot but magic always seems like it’s out to get you! I wish I knew why anyone for that matter would see magic as anything other than trouble.”

The pair sighed in unison and it was Tessa’s turn to flop down on the couch.

“So Tess, where did you get the new hat?”

“New hat?” she raised an eyebrow and reached up to her head “I don’t remember getting a new ...hat...”

She took the pointed witch’s hat off of her head and looked at it in pure disbelief before looking back to her husband and practically jumping back in fear.

“Tessa?! What’s wrong?!”

“Nathan... D-don’t panic, but...” she fumbled around in her purse for her compact case before pulling it out and clicking it open, handing it over to her husband.

Nathan’s jaw dropped open by a cartoonish degree as he saw his reflection; white fur was quickly sprouting up all over his face, getting framed with black fur that spouted on the rest of his body. In a matter of mere seconds, he didn’t even look like a human being anymore! He looked more like that fat cat character in the comics he saw Joey draw.

He looked down at himself and screamed when he saw that the rest of his body had also changed, and when he looked back up to his wife, he screamed again as he realized that she too had gone under some kind of transformation.

Her normally brightly colored attire was replaced by a floor-length black dress. She was still human, or at least, much more human than he was, but she looked simplified in a sense, more like a living drawing of herself. Her pie-cut eyes were filled with concern as she saw the fear in his eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me...”

Nathan bit his lip and nodded.

#hauntober #stars #bendy and the ink machine #batim monster au #nathan arch #joey drew #tessa arch #fanfic