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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

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Keith is acting suspicious.

Lance is sure of it. Beyond his usual shiftiness, his awkwardness, his tendency towards privacy. Lance knows his boyfriend, and he knows him well, and as such he knows enough to realise that his boyfriend is acting fuckin’ dubious.

Lance is going to snoop. (Yeah, yeah, ethical schmethical. Snooping fosters distrust in relationships and makes things tense blah blah blah. Lance recognises that. He also grew up with fucking Hunk Garrett and His Entire Family, so he also recognises that snooping is simply the best way to gather information. Fair’s fair.)

He waits until his boyfriend’s snores start to kick up, making the bedroom sound like an illegal motorized lawnmower race, and then carefully starts scooching out of his arms.

It takes a while — Keith likes to hold him. (Lance has to take a moment to calm himself down after the thought, lest he start to giggle giddily to himself, reminded that Keith loves him so much that at his most unguarded, his first instinct is to crush Lance in his arms. It’s exhilarating.) But slowly and steadily he manages to slide out of the arms around his waist, filling the newly hollow space with a pillow, and tumbles to the floor. He takes a moment, crossing his legs and sitting next to the bed, to look up at Keith, at the ratty mess of his bedhead and wide open snoring mouth and the tank top skewed across his torso, the hickeys Lance left all across his chest and collarbones peeking out.

“You are such a shit,” he whispers fondly. “I love you so bad it makes me want to, like, bite you or something. You make me weird.”

He watches Keith’s chest rise and fall until his legs fall asleep, wherein he flops onto the hardwood, wiggling his legs through the pins and needles and screeching silently into his arm (worst feeling in the WORLD) until his legs no longer feel like they’re on fire, and then he inches himself towards the right corner of the room like an inchworm.

(It’s three in the morning. No one is awake to judge him to give him shit or laugh at him or anything. He can do what he likes.)

He pulls himself up to his knees when he finally makes it to the corner, loosening his shoulders in preparation. The room is dark, so it’ll be a challenge, but this is not the first time he’s done this. Hell, it isn’t even the fiftieth. He’s a nosy person. He could do this in his sleep, probably, so in the dark is no problem.

As slowly as he can manage, to make sure it’s silent, he pries off the metal grate covering of the air vent, setting it down gently beside him. Laying down on his stomach again to get a better angle, he reaches down into the wide tube, following the curve of the cool metal, arm buried up to his shoulder, until he’s reached as far as he physically can. He carefully starts brushing his hands along the air vent, searching, feeling. It shouldn’t be too far down since his arms are way longer than Keith’s (Lance enjoys calling him T-Rex, which Keith hates and literally everyone else who knows them loves. It’s great).

Finally, his fingers brush on something small, compact, sturdy, and soft. He wraps his fist around it and slowly drags it out of the vent, keeping it in his fist as he crawls out of the bedroom and down the hall, somersaulting into the kitchen. He heads over to the fridge, figuring that if he uses the fridge light and Keith walks in, he can just pretend he’s getting a snack or something, shoving the thing he found into his pants. Keith’ll be too out of it to question it, anyway.

Laughing quietly and evilly to himself as he pulls open the fridge door, he brings his closed fist up to the light, examining the treasure he found. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, to take in what’s in front of him.

He gasps sharply when he processes, and the treasure slips out of his hands, clattering loudly to the floor.

He freezes immediately, listening for the telltale signs of his boyfriend snorting awake, noticing Lance’s side of the bed is empty, then the sound of his footsteps as he comes to look for him.

But, fortunately, there’s nothing. The only thing Lance hears are Keith’s continued snores.

Rapidly, Lance scoops up the box and brings it back to the light. It’s unmistakable — there’s only one thing that houses in a small hinged velvet box. It explains the shiftiness over the last few weeks, too, the nervousness that Keith has been disgusting as mysterious intrigue.

Keith is going to propose. Keith is going to propose!

Smiling so widely his face hurts, Lance flicks open the box, bringing his face closer to carefully inspect the ring inside.

It’s difficult to see in the dull blue light of the fridge, but Lance starts to cry when he sees it, because he recognises this ring. This is Keith’s dad’s ring; old, heavy gold, classic princess cut diamond, simple and polished and elegant. This is the ring Keith often wears around his neck, although he rarely has as of late, for now obvious reasons. This is the ring Keith has carried with him for almost two decades. This is, without a doubt, Keith’s most prized Earthly possession, and his intent is to gift it to Lance, as a promise of his love and trust and faithfulness.

Lance has to sit down so he doesn’t pass out. He grabs a dishtowel on the way to the floor, pressing it to his face to muffle his absolutely wailing sobs, the most ugly crying he’s literally ever done in his life.

He’s so glad he snooped. If he had this reaction when Keith finally summoned the balls to ask him, his engagement photos would be so embarrassing.

He paused mid-sniffle.

Actually.

A little embarrassed of himself, he slides up his phone, holding the ring box up to his tear-swollen and smiling face to snap a picture. He looks like a mess, but it’s important to him to have a physical memory of the moment he first learned Keith planned to marry him. He’s sure he’ll cry more over it the next time he’s feeling sappy and emotional.

He doesn’t realise how long he sits, fridge wide open, back to the cabinet doors of the kitchen island, staring in awe at the ring, until his watch starts to beep.

“Fuck,” he curses, scrambling to his feet. It’s six o’clock. Keith’ll be up in fifteen minutes to go on his morning run, Lance has literally been mooning over his ring for two and a half hours.

He runs back to the bedroom, barely remembering at the last second time muffle his footsteps, shoving the ring back into the vent and pressing the grate back onto the hole. Keith stirs slightly at the noise, so Lance abandons any thought of whether or not the ring box is positioned back exactly where he found it and fuckin’ dives for the bed, reburying himself in his boyfriend’s arms and hoping he can pass it off as just having shifted around in his sleep or something. Apparently he squirms and kicks a lot (which is a lie that Keith perpetuates to take attention away from the severity of his snores), so it should be fine. Probably.

“Wh—L’nce?” Keith mumbles, stirring from behind him. He inhales deeply, arms pulling away from Lance’s and stretching out above him. Lance’s heart pounds. He forces himself to stay relaxed, to avoid squeezing his eyes shut. He prays that Keith doesn’t notice how sweaty he is.

Keith leans over to press a lingering kiss to his neck, then chuckles. Lance can feel the imprint of his smile on his skin, and tamping down his own reflexive smile is literally the hardest thing he has ever had to do in his entire life.

“You’re warm as hell,” Keith murmurs, dragging his lips down his neck, across his shoulders. His hand comes to rest in his hip, curling into the hollow there. “Betcha you were squrimin’ around in y’re sleep last night, ya worm. Betcha I’ve got bruises on my shins.” His shoulders, pressed against Lance’s back, shake with his laughter, because he is a shithead who is so lucky that Lance loves him. He presses one final kiss to Lance’s skin and then rolls out of bed. Lance listens carefully as he gets dressed in his jogging clothes and runs a brush through his hair. He falls half asleep listening to the familiar sounds, rousing slightly again when Keith ducks back in to kiss Lance’s head one last time before heading out.

Lance smiles as he falls asleep for real, after the sound of the front door opening and closing.

He’s gonna clown that dumbass so goddamn badly.

———

Lance has a love-hate relationship with pranks. On one hand, the one and only time he was sent into an asthma attack so bad he had to go to the hospital was after he and Hunk wrapped every single thing in Veronica’s room with aluminum foil while she was away on a trip, and upon seeing her reaction laughed so hard his lungs basically collapsed. He still can’t think of that without laughing. On the other hand, he’s had more than enough cruel pranks shoved his way, and never in his life wants anyone to feel humiliated because of something he did.

He can’t not prank Keith, though. He’s literally beat Keith to his own proposal. A prank is in order.

Usually, he’d call Hunk for something like that. They’ve been partners in crimes for most of their lives, after all. Pidge too, honestly. He knows they’d both get a kick out of this whole situation as well.

But…even if those dunderheads were capable of keeping their mouths shut, which they’re not, Lance kind of wants to…well, he wants to keep his proposal to himself. He likes being in on it. He likes being to only one in on it, actually. Honestly, the only thing he wants to do is brag to Keith that he knows, which defeats the whole purpose.

He straightens abruptly. A smirk spreads across his face.

He has an idea.

———

The first step is recon. He needs access to the ring, regularly and long-term, but all will be for naught if Keith realises it’s missing. He needs to know if Keith stashed the ring when he decided to propose and avoided thinking about it, or if he checks on it frequently and stresses himself out about when he’s finally going to go through with it. Both are very Keith options. In fact Lance wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow managed both at the same time, as impossible as that seems.

To get around the issue, Lance goes Spy Barbie. He waits until Keith goes out for his weekly coffee date with Shiro and Adam and then digs through his makeup kit, setting aside what he needs and sitting next to the air vent grate. He spends a good amount of time polishing the metal, making sure it’s as fresh and untouched as it was when it was first put in its package, and then he uses a wide end brush to apply a thin layer of highlighter to the white metal. He takes great care to ensure that no colour is visible, only a slight sheen if one were to look closely. And Keith doesn’t have any reason to look closely, and since Lance knows the universe loves him, he won’t.

The next step is waiting. Lance acts completely normally when Keith gets home, if a little giddy. Keith most certainly notices Lance’s giggles and affection and the way he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself, but he doesn’t seem to mind or question it. Lance does sometimes get like this, after all.

He scored a hot as hell boyfriend. He’s allowed to be a little awed sometimes. He doesn’t feel weird about it.

He does, however, mellow out in the next few days. Keith takes him to a car show, which is fucking wicked, and somehow manages to get himself and Lance behind the wheels of two 200 horsepower Mustangs for them to race, which is so exhilarating that Lance doesn’t have words for it. He just yells and jumps around about it a lot. He doesn’t actually manage to find words for a couple hours after he totally smokes Keith’s ass, but whatever. It’s cool. Keith tried his best and everything, Lance is sure.

A week later, when Keith is out on his coffee date again, Lance gets to work. He cuts a large square of parchment paper and covers it with clear packing tape, careful not to touch the sticky side, overlapping strips so they make one giant tape sheet.

Once the parchment sheet is covered, he peels off the tape, and as planned it comes off in one large sheet, slightly bigger than the air vent grate. Again careful to steer clear of the sticky part, he places the tape sheet sticky side down onto the grate, pressing down hard and rubbing to smooth it out completely flat. Once he’s sure it’s totally stuck down, he picks at one corner until it’s loose, then slowly and meticulously peels the whole sheet back. He holds the tape, now showcasing the concealer-print of the grate, up to the light, examining it with the utmost scrutiny.

Not one single fingerprint in sight. Keith has not touched the grate at all, hasn’t dug into his secret hiding spot. He is taking the refusing to think about it route, then.

Lance smirks. He reaches down and scoops up the ring, placing the grate back where it belongs and skipping out to the living room, humming jovially to himself.

Excellent.

———

The first picture Lance snaps, while biting his lip so hard to keep back his laughter it bleeds, is once again in the dead of night, two weeks after Lance first discovered the ring. Keith is sprawled out on his back this time, arms and legs askew, sheets tangled somewhere around his legs. Lance shifts so they’re both facing the same direction, then holds up his phone camera, trying to figure out how to artfully position himself for utmost devastation upon discovery. He decides eventually on a classic.

He heads over to the dresser to pick out his cutest pajamas, settling on the red spaghetti strap top with lace and short-shorts, debating on accessorizing and deciding at the last minute not to bother except for lip gloss, which is always appropriate. He climbs into bed next to Keith, gently laying his head on his chest and maneuvering one arm to wrap around Lance’s hips. The other he leaves flopped on top of the pillows. He leaves Keith’s mouth wide open because it’s funny, and goes the extra mile to mess up Keith’s hair worse than it already is, because that’s funnier. Finally he flicks open the ring case with his left hand and holds it to his face, grinning widely, and uses his right to snap a picture of the two of them. Once he’s satisfied with it, he untangles himself from the bed again, puts the ring away, presses a sticky lip gloss kiss to Keith’s cheek for funsies, and crawls back into bed for real. His sleep is sound as a baby’s.

———

The next photo doesn’t actually happen for another month. Lance fears overdoing it, and also kind of fears getting caught with the ring, so he leaves it in its hiding spot until the opportunity for another cheeky photo presents itself.

The opportunity in question arrives when Keith announces that he has arranged to drive down to the secluded beach that Lance took him too early in their relationship to spend the day. At first Lance thinks he’s proposing for real, and to check he waits until Keith has the car all packed up and ready to go and then pretends to run inside to go to the washroom. Instead he ducks into their room and tears into the air vent, grasping around until his fingers close around the box.

He scoffs to himself. Wimp.

He quickly shoves the box into his fanny pack (fanny packs are COOL and CONVENIENT and Lance will not hear a word of controversy on the subject, they are absolutely nothing like Keith’s dweeb utility belt) and sprints back to the car. When Keith asks him why he’s smirking, Lance manages to convince him that he’s just excited for the beach.

Lance should have been an actor, honestly.

He mostly forgets about the ring while they’re there. He has enough sense to keep it in the car instead of on the beach so it doesn’t get stolen, unlikely as it is, and just enjoys the day with his boyfriend. He convinces Keith to go jet skiing with him and cackles to himself as he purposely sends Keith flying off the back of it. He screeches at the top of his lungs later when Keith scoops him up from his nap and literally chucks him into the ice cold water. The two of them make really garbage sculptures of their friends in the sand to amuse themselves. They gather ugly seashells and send pictures to their friends asking them if they’ve been turned into mollusks, since there is a resemblance. The whole day was a blast. Lance firmly slots it in his top ten days of all time.

When they go for a long walk to watch the sunset, Lance snaps a picture with the ring and a very teasing grin the second Keith has his back turned. He will bring up how this was a perfect moment to propose, and he will pat Keith’s head condescendingly about it. He can’t wait.

———

The third photo is another dead-of-night-situation. Lance knows it’s repetitive, but it’s easy and it’s funny and Lance can’t resist.

To change things up a bit, he decides not to be in the photo, and also to see just how much he can get away with.

Keith is on his side, this time, one hand tucked under the pillow, one hand held loose and open on top of it. He’s been tired, lately, and when Lance says he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, he is not exaggerating. In fact Lance is reasonably certain he passed out in the way down. He is KOed. He’s unconscious. He is absolutely dogged out.

The timing is perfect.

Carefully, aware of the consequences should Lance make a mistake, he removes the ring from its box. He realizes abruptly that it’s the first time he’s ever done that, despite his ridiculous quest, and he finds that he can’t quite let go of the ring just yet. The metal feels cool and smooth on his finger tips; worn, even. It’s shinier than it used to be, which means Keith has probably had it professionally retouched. Resized too, probably, although Lance can’t quite bring himself to check. The diamond catches the minimal light in the room and refracts into rainbows that fall softly on Keith’s lax face, highlighting his sharp jawline, his softly squished cheek, his relaxed brow. He looks so dorky when he sleeps, completely free of the furrow of concentration that usually resides in between his eyebrows, his resting frown. His mouth is always wide open when he’s out, and the echoing of his snores is so comically loud and ridiculous but absolutely something that Lance can’t live without. He has them recorded, actually, for the rare nights they’re not home together, on the rare night Lance has to sleep alone.

Smiling softly to himself, Lance places the ring in Keith’s open palm. He rests his hand on top of Keith’s for a moment, just because he can, just to relish in the scratch of Keith’s callouses on his skin, before pulling back and steadying his phone to snap a picture. He catches it right as Keith inhales heavily, right as his nose scrunches up.

It’s goofy as hell. It’s perfect.

———

The fourth picture is the riskiest, Lance thinks. He’s taken to carrying the ring around with him everywhere, almost as if he is the one planning to propose, just in case he has a moment when Keith’s back is turned. (There really aren’t that many. Keith faces him a lot. He likes to hold Lance hand and kiss his face, neither of which you can do from behind. Lance fucking loves his boyfriend so much.)

They’re at a Thing. Lance’s parents are celebrating their fortieth anniversary, and obviously Lance is bringing Keith, and since Keith is his mother’s favourite he is encouraged to bring his family as well, which means Shiro and Adam are coming, and if Hunk and Pidge weren’t invited then someone would cry and nothing would be right in the world, and of course Veronica is bringing Allura, and Coran comes because Lance’s dad thinks he’s the funniest man to walk the Earth. And of course all Lance’s relatives are there.

The point is that it’s a full house. A couple full houses, actually, since their neighbours are also involved. It’s a lot of people in one place.

As is protocol in crowded places, Keith is essentially glued to Lance’s side. Lance is quite happy with this arrangement, because he gets to show his boyfriend off like the hot piece of ass he is, especially to his rude ass great aunties and uncles who always had something to say about Lance and his single-ness when he was still rocking braces. So.

One thing about Keith, though, is that everyone who meets him is doomed to fall in love with him forever and ever, or so Lance has noticed. His niece and nephew are no exception, and immediately upon catching sight of their uncle — Keith, that is, Lance may as well be dead meat when Tio Keith is available, which, rude — they descend upon him not unlike a vulture may descend upon a recently deceased armadillo. Or whatever. Lance didn’t grow up in the desert, he doesn’t know what happens there.

Occupied as he is, one child hanging off each arm, Keith cannot keep his vice grip on Lance’s hand. Occupied as he is, two children talking at him in a mix of Spanish and English so rapid that Lance himself cannot keep up, which is saying something because his nickname for many years was and aptly so Motormouth, Keith cannot have his full attention on Lance. In fact, even, his back is delightfully turned.

Lance doesn’t hesitate. He flicks open the ring box and snaps a picture. His grin is nothing short of gleeful and he is entirely unapologetic.

When he turns back around, ring box stuffed back into his pocket, he realizes Nadia is staring at him with wide eyes.

“You, shush,” Lance says, and then switches to Spanish so Keith, who is still learning, will miss it, “or I’ll choose a random child to be my flower girl. I swear.”

She glares at him. “This is why Tio Keith is my favourite,” she mutters, because she is a snot who acts as if Lance does not and has not for her whole life taken her on all sorts of cool awesome amazing trips and bought her cool awesome amazing presents. Who was it who bought them recorders when they were seven to terrorize Luis with? Lance. Who was it to take them to a live rocket taking off the summer they turned nine? Lance.

“You’re a brat,” he informs her.

She sticks her tongue out at him, snickering. “Side genes.”

Lance unfortunately has nothing to say to that and also refuses to be roasted by an eleven year old, so he yanks Keith away as penance and takes him to a corner somewhere to make out. He feels very smug about it.

———

The fifth time doesn’t happen.

The fifth time is a clusterfuck.

The fifth time, it’s night again, and Lance honestly doesn’t even plan on taking another picture. He’s just next to the vent, lying on his belly, legs kicking in the air as he inspects the ring for the billionth time. He’s so excited. He can’t wait to wear this on his finger. He can’t wait for Keith to put it there. He’s can’t wait to be Keith’s husband, is the crux of it all. It’s like groundhog day except with literal euphoria. Lance is the luckiest man literally alive, and Keith hasn’t even hinted towards a plan to pop the question yet.

“You are the nosiest motherfucker in the planet, you shithead.”

Lance yelps, startling so bad he almost brains himself on the floor and nearly drops the ring. He manages to catch himself with the grace of God and also probably luck, or neither of those things, but either way Lance heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

“You scared me, you butthead!”

Keith chuckles. His voice is low and raspy from sleep, vowels still rounded from the accent that only comes out when he’s mad or drunk or tired. Lance’s belly swoops. Keith grabs Lance’s ankle and tugs, dragging him over to him, pulling him upright when he’s close enough. Lance goes into him fully, curling up into him, head tucked under his chin. Keith’s hands come to rest on top of his, sliding the ring box from him.

“How long have you known, you snoop?”

“Six months,” Lance answers. “In my defense, you were acting suspicious as all hell.”

Keith kisses his head. “Fair.”

“I need to know everything about everything or I’ll die. You know this.”

Keith snorts. He takes Lance’s left hand and smooths it flat, spreading out his fingers. “Yeah. Ruined my plans, though.”

“Oh, please. You and I both know there were no plans involved. You walked by a shop advertising ring retouching and walked in before you even thought about it.”

Keith says nothing. Lance grins and presses on.

“I bet you cried the whole time, too.”

“Shut up. I’m gonna keep the ring.”

Lance kisses him on the chest, the closest place he can reach, through his sleep shirt. “No, you’re not.”

“Mhm.” Keith plucks the ring out of the box with one hand, setting it on the ground beside them and grabbing Lance’s hand with his other. “You’re right. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move for a while, except to stroke his thumb over the palm of Lance’s hand, over and over again. Lance likes the feeling. He’s always likes the feeling of Keith’s hands in him.

“I know this isn’t a fancy dinner or sunset on the beach or with your whole family present,” he murmurs. “But I’m tired of waiting, if you don’t mind me jumping the gun.”

Lance smiles widely. A tear leaks out of his eye, dripping down his face and onto Keith’s hand.

“I don’t.”

“Good.” Keith holds the ring just above Lance’s finger, poised, ready to slide it on but waiting for permission. “Lance Sanchez, will you marry me?”

“Keith Gyeong, I would want nothing more.”

Unhesitant at last, Keith slides his father’s ring onto Lance’s finger, centring it so the diamond shines brightly in the middle. It fits perfectly.

The tears stream down Lance’s face, and he can’t for the life of him pretend that they’re not, not that he’d bother. He buries his face in his fiancé’s neck and feels Keith’s own tears soaking his hair.

“I took a bunch of sneaky pictures of me holding the ring in front of you,” Lance admits.

Keith laughs. “Of course you did.”

“I carried the ring around for months.”

“Checks out.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lance.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Keith hums, tilting his head up and kissing him properly, entwining their hands so they can both feel the ring press against skin. “No more waiting for you, sweetheart.”

———

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enigmajaython · 1 year

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You know what I'm thinking about Hunter and Lilith again, so here's some thoughts about about Hunter Staying at the Owl House After Hollow Mind (I don't know what we're calling that AU collectively)

Eda noticing Hunters entire body tense and his shoulders straighten when Lilith enters the room and not really knowing how to approach him about it, but she's damn well going to try (after reading a few more 'How to Talk To Teenagers' books)

Luz actually notices him using a more subdued version of The Voice (you know the one) when speaking to Lilith and she immediately tries to have a discussion about it but he has no idea what she means, because that's just how he talks (to scary authority figures)

King isn't sure why Hunter acts so weird around Lilith, he doesn't talk to Hunter about it but when Aunt Lilith visits and he's done receiving his awkwardly loving Cool Aunt Lilith Hugs, he makes sure to sit as close to Hunter as possible and give him one of his underlings to hold, just in case

Hunter watching his sister and brother call Lilith "Aunty" and wishing he knew how to earn that privilege

Hunter not being sure what to do to earn Lilith's favour so he actually starts offering to go on "Missions" for her, like going to the market for groceries and/or elixir, fetching her books from the library from the restricted section, etc. Lilith Does Not take this very well

Actually now that I'm thinking about it, I want more people to explore hunters reaction to other people with curses, I eat those fics up like good spaghetti

Tw panic attacks and light ref to abuse under the cut

Lilith and Hunter are left alone in the Owl House (somehow) and Lilith starts to Bird Out and Hunter brings the elixir straight to her, no matter how hard his hands shake and his vision starts to blur, because this is the one thing he knows how to do Correctly

Of course Lilith stops Changing but that dosnt mean she isn't mad that he helped her out of Pity and she gives the former Golden Guard a piece of her mind about it but when she actually notices that he's not biting back, not even reflexively like he's started to do against her needling, he's not even looking at her. His eyes never leave the floor and his pale face is unreadable as he begins to sweat, trembling hands becoming clenched fists, chest hitching with growing hyperventilation, but he doesn't make a sound, not even a wheeze, but it's all so telegraphed perfectly that even Lilith can tell something is so very, very wrong.

He doesn't flinch when she goes to put her hand on his shoulder but she knows he wants to, but then he sinks to one knee and starts to mumble half coherent apologies through short, withering gasps of air and that's when she truly realizes she's Fucked Up.

#toh #the owl house #hunter noceda #lilith clawthorne #hunter clawthorne #toh hunter #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #tw abuse #tw panic attack #tw child abuse #thats all for now folks #maybe i need a new tag #write stuff #king clawthorne

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milf-harrington · 3 years

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okay bc i love tay @babydotcom and also bc i love talking about my original work im gonna talk about my books!!

so at the moment, im writing 2 of them! one of them is Nobodies Hero, a fantasy tale that is mostly narrated by a grouchy side-character and i have a sideblog that's basically a collection of my world building from the past 5 years and any posts i see that fit the characters or the world (@nobodieshero-lore)

the other is much newer (started maybe a month and a half ago) and is more of an urban fantasy called Arson: and other crimes which is basically going to follow the main cast through all the supernatural shenanigans and self growth they go through.

at the moment Arson is more of a concept? i have yet to figure out an actual plot, i've actually been trying a new approach to writing where i build all the characters first! most of my notes for Arson are just short scene snippets and dialogue, such as:

Time seemed to slow as the siren exploded from the flaming water, droplets of fire raining down around her as she reached out her webbed claws and exposed those horrifying needle-like teeth in a shrill scream of rage. It was awesome and terrifying, and Jai was forced to admit that maybe this time they wouldn’t be so lucky, maybe this time he was going down in a blaze of fish-scented glory. And then the scream was cut off as, with a sudden hollow sounding thwack, the siren’s head snapped to the side, the rest of her body thrown off course as she veered to the left and landed with a wet smack against the cement, a trail of slimy fire left in her wake. Kauri was standing in front of him with a thick metal pipe held tightly in their hands, hair a mess of thorns and ash as their shoulders heaved with each angry breath. Flickering orange light danced across their skin, the flames reflected in the dryads furious eyes as a new vine of thorns curled past their cheek. If someone had put a gun to his head, Jai may have been able to admit that he'd fallen in love right then, but there was no gun and no questioning so Jai shoved that shit deep down where he'd never find it.

There are currently 8 characters official characters, but i intend to make more bc 2 out of the 8 are mostly side characters/helpers.

uh we've got:

Jai, who is the quiet but stern researcher teaching himself magic; he mostly communicates through facial expressions and single sentences but if you get him started on whatever he's researching he can go on for ages (trans + gay)

Kauri, who is a dryad with a short temper. they're loud and passionate and also end up naked a lot because the concept of clothing makes no sense to them. my favourite thing about kauri is honestly their hair bc they've got vines that also grow from their scalp, and they grow/bloom/wild/grow thorns depending on their mood (as shown in the above snippet) (nonbinary)

Orli, who's a member of a werewolf pack. not everyone gets the lycanthrope gene, but she's just as snarly and protective as the rest of them. she works as a barista in her families cafe and she's got killer first aid skills. (asexual + lesbian)

Vince, who is Orli's older brother and did get the lycanthrope gene. he's just neat, i love him. he's usually the get away driver, or he'll bring them snacks and shit when they're on big research binges because he cares about them. he's basically a big ol' puppy (trans + bi)

[UNNAMED], who is a telepath with a weird name. her parents gave her up when she was young due to her being a "difficult and creepy child" and she kinda floated through different foster homes before she was tracked down and adopted by her uncle. She's funny and calculating, and in most situations will watch other people to figure out the best outcome for herself. she's almost always wearing a pair of headphones her uncle gave her that are warded against outside sound, so she can listen to music and block out everyone's thoughts. (lesbian)

Seftan, who's unnamed's weird but cool uncle. he's slept his way through half a bestiary and so is generally unphased by most things. he has 2 dogs and lives in a cute little 2-storey apartment/flat thing. he's either magic or knows a magic user bc he's got a lot of interesting books and wards set up and he also squints at Jai a lot. he calls unnamed a series of nicknames which are: nosy-nancy, no-name nancy, miss no-name, or just 'nancy' (inspired by nancy drew) (an opportunist)

Beau, who is a ghost from a circus! he died in the 1890's after getting stabbed to death in an argument with a sword-swallower, and is now stuck on the mortal plane bc he never got to finish his contortionist act. he's tied to a music box and gets handed around to different antique and thrift shops which is how he ends up w the rest of them.

Milo, who is possessed by an Ancient Creature and is therefore unable to stay dead. he has pretty yellow eyes, a hankering for roadkill and a whole other form that he can shift into. he's loyal as hell and genuinely doesn't see what's wrong with dying for someone he cares about, he's also mentally ill bc i think anyone would be if they were possessed and also kept dying. (demi + bi)

i think my favourite thing about Arson is that it's gonna be kind-of-not-really written like a survival guide or a diary? i don't know how to explain it properly but, like, there's gonna be random pages with tips for 'those in danger of kidnapping' or first aid or an info page on the monster/threat they're facing etc

but there's also gonna be other stuff like unnamed's playlists or what Kauri's moods are depending on their vines, or a steadily updated list of weird places Jai has been found sleeping.

uhh that's all i've really got so far without just slapping all my notes into a post so yeah! if you have any questions (or ideas?) please feel free to ask/share bc it can help with my creative process.

#long post #original work #my books #my original work #my writing #arson: and other crimes #not atla #captain speaks

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

In the Atelier's Glow the Pupa Phoebus will Eclose.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 10: Light} |

Chapter 2 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

———

| Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed. |

| The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power. |

| Word Count: 7,220. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Mentions of Guns, Gun Violence, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Brainwashing, Implied Brainwashing & Torture, Injury, Threats of Violence & Violence, Akumatised!Marinette, Fluff & Angst, Hurt with some Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: First things first, make sure you've read the first chap before reading this. Second things second, this chapter is a chapter and half. And it's the final chapter! I hope this being 7k more than makes up for it being a day late to posting! I put a lot of love and time and effort into this, so I really hope you all enjoy. And for peak atmosphere, listen to Wonder World by Inova (first song on the playlist) during the first two parts, for optimum atmosphere! Not necessary if you'd prefer not to of course, but still. There's also a ton of light and butterfly symbolism stuffed in this, so try and see how much you can spot! |

| On a sidenote, this fic is dedicated to my friend Saf who listened to me ramble about this fic, and in turn rambled to me whenever I gave her sneak peak snippets. This wouldn't have ended up half as good as it did without her support! Also thanks to Weird for the support, compliments, reaction to the snippets, and kind words as well! And finally, thanks to everyone on the discord who was supportive and kind whenever I rambled in my author's channel! <3 |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed.

The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power.

Broken wires cause lights to flicker and dim. They don't glow as brightly as they could—as they should. They crackle and buzz and burn and scorch and smoke, causing only destruction; when light should only be used for creation.

That's why the Atelier Agreste specialise in fixing broken wings and wires. The brightness of tomorrow splinters the darkness of today, the business proclaims.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng is merely the latest of the poor misguided larvae, with their shade-like masks and unfortunate frayed wires, to be rehabilitated into an enlightened pupa under Gabriel Agreste's watchful care.

Truly, the discarding of a mask that kept the Pupa in the dark, and the Pupa's embracement of the Atelier's radiant glow marks a wondrous occasion indeed.

How glorious it will be, an unveiling of the newest Atelier Agreste designer's début? The welcoming of a new Papillon among the ranks, especially one that shines so brightly. Phoebus, like the butterfly and the god of light. What a fitting name for the butterfly that will glow like the sun.

———

Marinette—no, not Marinette, she is Phoebus. She is light, and her glow has been fixed.

Stitch by stitch, she sews herself a collection of chrysalises. To represent her transformation that has been nurtured by the Atelier, Monsieur Agreste had said.

Stitch by stitch by stitch. She must make him proud, he's done so much for her. He saved her from the darkness, showed her the light and how to glow just as brightly herself. She owes him everything.

Stitch by stitch by stitch by stitch. Lila—no, Rubi, after Macrothylacia Rubi, the Fox Moth—visits sometimes. She's pretty, and likes to keep Phoebus company, telling her all about the incredible things Rubi has done and people Rubi has met. She's like Phoebus, taken in and nurtured by the Atelier Agreste. Phoebus hopes Rubi will be one of her chrysalis models.

Stitch. And anchor, and anchor, then up. Snip. Snip. Snip.

Phoebus hears the sound of the studio door opening but she does not stop. Her chrysalises must be perfect, she must finish them in time. Thread the needle and anchor.

Footsteps stride across the studio floor but still Phoebus does not stray her attention from her work. Stitch by stitch.

“Good morning, Pupa, I hope the final preparations for your début are going accordingly.” Monsieur Agreste greets.

Her hands still, work halting. The Pupa Phoebus turns away from the fashion piece before her, and smiles, as brightly as her namesake, up at him. “It is.”

There's a hollowness inside her. And smiling at him makes the hollowness ache but Phoebus does not know why. Monsieur Agreste does not like it when she asks bad-dark-broken-frayed questions like that, so she says nothing more and nothing less. She will be his perfect protégé. He said so, and so she must.

He nods approvingly. “Good. I expect only perfection from you and your work. Do not forget, once the fashion show starts it will mark your eclosion into my Atelier once and for all.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods her head, eyes shining almost too brightly in the studio's lights.“I will ensure everything is to perfection for my début.”

Her actions and words are as doll-like as her title. For she was once named Marinette, which is close to Marionette. Marionettes are dolls. And Pupa once meant doll. Like a doll, she is so painfully hollow inside. But like a doll, she is perfect. She must be.

Monsieur Agreste does not sneer at her but his lips curl in a way that makes the darkness inside her claim he is mocking her.

“The set designers have informed me the catwalk has been transformed into the river Lethe. Isn't it rather fitting?” He pauses, watching her with sharp eyes for her reaction.

She nods. That is what she is supposed to do. It is fitting because he has said so. And Monsieur Agreste is always right.

“After all,” he continues, seemingly satisfied with her response, “it was once believed that the dead may only be reincarnated upon drinking from the Lethe and giving up their memories. And you gave up your memories of pain to be reformed as a butterfly that will shine ever so brightly, my protégé.”

“Oh,” Phoebus responds, tilting her head to one side as her smile wavers for but a fraction of a second. There's something flickering in the back of her head, behind her eyes; splintered memories, nothing substantial but the ghosts—Fantômes, the darkness whispers—of them linger.

The taste of iron, harsh white lights, cold glowing white strands chaining her fragile wire wings to the ground, lights—so many dancing lights, and the sharp electric zaps. She shouldn't try to parse what they mean, what they herald. Remembering the Before is bad, when she was a poor unfortunate Larva who fell through the cracks into the shadows and gutters. She is a Pupa now, and Pupa change. They become better, brighter, than they ever could achieve as Larvae.

Monsieur Agreste picks up on her moment of lapse, his eyes narrowing in what must be concern. “Is something wrong, Pupa?”

Phoebus shakes her head. “I am just anticipating how my début will go.”

He hums, unconvinced.

Understandable—she is not meant to lie, not to him. It is not how a Pupa should act.

“Perhaps you should take a break so we can ensure you've not damaged your light by working so hard. It wouldn't do to have your glow flicker and dim mid-début.” Monsieur Agreste states, pulling his tablet out already to schedule a check-up.

The Pupa Phoebus widens her bright yet hollow smile. “Oh, that is a good idea! A break would be most appreciated, Monsieur Agreste!”

Monsieur Agreste does not laugh but he huffs in what must be amusement. “How unfortunate that it took so long to rescue and take you under my wing. You will do well as one of my Papillons here.” He pauses to adjust his glasses, the light shining on them in a way that makes the lenses appear opaque. “I didn't think I'd get another specimen such as yourself, so perfectly adapted for becoming a Pupa and then a Papillon.”

His not-sneer unfurls into a grin, one that makes the darkness whisper danger. He steps around her, to get a different angle view of her work, and stares pointedly at the fine detailing. “It is a great shame that my son and my nephew have both become wretched larvae like you once were, instead of wonderful Pupae like you've now become.”

“You deserve a better son and nephew, Monsieur Agreste.” Phoebus recites from the script burnt into her mind, though she does not remember when or why she memorised it.

“I do, don't I.” Monsieur Agreste considers in contempt. “That can easily be achieved as soon as my men rescue him from the clutches of those vile Larvae. We believe the ones who held you captive and forced you to work for them, are the same ones who hold both my son and nephew now.”

“Oh.” Phoebus responds, getting the feel that Monsieur Agreste is testing her. Perhaps to ensure no feelings of Stockholm Syndrome remain for her previous captors? Yes, that must be it. How thoughtful and caring of Monsieur Agreste. “That is awful, hopefully, they can be saved soon!”

Monsieur Agreste hums, seemingly in agreement this time. “Hopefully indeed. And once we rescue them, they can then be taught to embrace the radiance my company brings to this world, just as you were taught.”

He places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes. “And you, my dear Pupa, can help my son and nephew stitch their Chrysalises. For they are both models, like Rubi. Wouldn't that be nice, two additional fellow Papillons for you to befriend, wouldn't that make you very happy?”

Phoebus nods at a perfectly acceptable speed to relay her happiness and excitement. “Yes! That would be wonderful! I would be so happy if that were to happen!”

And yet, the darkness inside her wails and grieves as she utters each word but Phoebus does not understand why.

“Good,” Monsieur Agreste states, “that is very good to hear. Now, I shall return when your break is ready.” He turns around and strides towards the door, stilling at the threshold. “My wife will prepare high tea for you to join her at, once your break is ready.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods, fingers twitching as she turns back to meticulously stitching her chrysalises. “Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, I cannot wait!”

He huffs in what must be amusement again, “I would hope so, Pupa.”

If she didn't know better, the Pupa Phoebus would wonder why the silver butterfly necklace feels more like shackles than a gift. Why the darkness begs her to break the chains.

———

Three months. Three fucking months. Of nothing. Not a whisper on the news or in the underground, no public proclamations of the capture of one of the co-leaders of the most notorious gangs in the city. Nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Three fucking months she's been gone and not a word about what happened.

Jason sits crouched on the sofa, head in his hands. A coffee is placed on the table in front of him, he can tell from the smell, and the sound of the liquid sloshing about inside the cardboard cup.

“Marinette used to like coffee…” Jason bemoans, half-serious, half-jokingly.

Something shatters in the next room over, the kitchen most likely from the sounds of it.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. Jason!” Alix hiss-screeches, from the same place as the shattering, like an angry kitten on roller skates. “You've said that meme every day for the last month! I'm going to murder you!”

Adrien, who's been sitting on top of the side cabinets, throws his head forwards and barely manages to stifle the laugh by slapping a hand over his mouth. He wheezes for a few seconds as he gets his laughter, and breathing under control again.

Félix snorts from where he's curled up in a cushioned armchair. “Alix has a point, you know. We understand you miss her but as do we.”

“Shhh! You'll disturb him!” Roy shushes, grinning mischievously as he stands behind the sofa. Putting on his best David Attenborough impression, he begins to recite, “here we have the rare Jasonarches Toddamentum brooding in his natural habitat. Lamenting the loss of one of his pack, specifically his co-alpha—”

Jason whips around to face Roy and launches the nearest pillow from the sofa at him, before he can continue the mockumentary. “Co-alphas? Really? That's the best you could come up with! C'mon man!”

Yelping, Roy ducks but not quick enough as the pillow smacks him in the right shoulder and flops onto the floor.

Nodding mock sagely, Félix sighs. “We expected better from you, Roy.”

“Yeah, Roy.” Kori teases, passing a second coffee in her hands over to him.

Placing a hand over his heart, Roy gasps. “Wow! The betrayal!” he complains as he grabs at the coffee and cradles it to his chest with the other. “And thanks, Kori! For the coffee, not the betrayal!”

“Ah, friends?” Markov calls cautiously as he hovers into the room, anxiety lacing his robotic voice, claws fiddling with the corner of what looks to be an envelope.

Immediately the jovial atmosphere splinters and everyone stills. Everyone except Artemis and Alix who walk, and roll into the room respectively, at that precise moment. Both hovering by the respective door frames they entered through, coincidentally opposite each other. Artemis crosses her arms, whilst Alix grabs the door frame with one hand to steady herself.

Jason tenses and glances over at the little AI. “Everything okay, Markov?”

Markov fretfully swings his claw arm around. “One of our couriers was handed a letter.”

“Did they bring it here?” Jason questions, brows furrowing in worry.

Markov shakes his head. “The courier handed it to a third-party forger, and created the forgery I am now holding. It is addressed to Adrien, and Félix.”

Adrien sucks in a sharp breath, he turns to exchange a look with Félix. “You don't think it's…” He trails off, unwilling to say it out loud in case it makes it any more likely.

Grimacing, Félix nods. “It has to be. It was rather publicly known when you were "kidnapped",” he states, making quotation marks with his fingers as he stressed the word, “by this gang. Less so when you spearheaded my "kidnapping", with them.”

“Yeah… that's. We didn't think that through.” Adrien admits, scrunching his mouth up in concern. “But! If that didn't happen, I wouldn't have gotten to use Cheval Mallet as my vigilante name, which is a plus at least!”

Félix huffs bitterly. “Oh, because getting to use a vigilante name that fits thematically is completely and utterly worth getting targeted by the Big Butterfly himself?”

“In my defence—” Adrien starts, only to shut his mouth again as words fail him. “Nevermind, you've got a point.”

Jason clicks his tongue. “More importantly, we need to decide what we're doing about this.”

“We need to actually see what is inside the envelope, first.” Félix counters, marching over to Markov.

Markov dips in the air in lieu of a nod and extends his claw-arm to hand Félix the envelope. “Here you go, friend!”

“Thank you, Markov.” Félix responds, nodding his head to the little AI as he takes the extended envelope. He marches back over to Adrien and slips out the disguised knife pen out of his pocket, before carefully slicing the top of the envelope open like one would do with a letter opener. Plucking the letter from inside, he holds it at an angle so only he and Adrien can read what has been written.

Seconds pass.

Swearing under his breath, Adrien glances up at Jason with panic clear in his eyes. “It's… it's from Kagami. She's been compromised, the Big Butterfly knows she was in contact with us. He and her mother have forced her to invite us to the Big Butterfly's upcoming fashion show…”

“She's worried that it's a trap, to capture us both so that they can… do to us what they did to my mother, and all of his Papillons.” Félix continues in Adrien's stead, barely able to conceal the dawning horror on his face.

Artemis moves towards them and asks as softly as she can, brows furrowing in concern. “And what exactly, did they do to your mother?”

He swallows a breath of air thickly. “Adrien's mother went missing a few years ago. And so my mother and I visited Adrien and his sperm donor as we were all grieving. However, I started to notice things seemed off and before either of us realised, the Big Butterfly was parading my mother around in front of the news and media pretending she was her twin sister instead. Even at home, she started treating me like Adrien's mother had.”

“What the fuck! Are you saying the Big Butterfly brainwashed your mom?” Jason exclaims, eyes wide with a mixture of horror, disgust, and alarm.

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. The Big Butterfly brainwashed my mum into believing she was Aunt Emilie, purely so that he could keep appearances up in front of the cameras.” Félix confirms, hands balled into fists and shaking ever so slightly. “When Adrien got out and joined here, I stumbled across the Big Butterfly's plans to replace Adrien by doing the same to me. If you all hadn't helped me get out in time…” He chokes up, unable to get the next words out of his mouth.

“That is truly despicable. I'm sorry.” Artemis apologises, looking equally disturbed by the information.

“Shit.” Roy mutters, glancing between Félix and Adrien. “What do we do? We can't just let another innocent get fucking brainwashed!”

Kori purses her lips. “I think,” she starts, giving an understanding look at the two, “we should let Adrien and Félix decide. They are the most familiar with the Big Butterfly, this Kagami, and the situation as a whole.”

Clearing her throat, Alix roller skates a little closer to others. “Guys, you don't think…” she trails off, trying to find her words but also torn over whether saying it out loud will make it true, “you don't think that's what's happened to Marinette? It would explain why we've heard nothing from her or Roaar since she disappeared.”

“Holy fucking shit! I'm going to burn that fucking bastard and his fucking fashion show to the ground if he fucking dared!” Hisses Jason, his eyes flaring toxic green as the fury of the Lazarus Pit burns in his veins. He digs his nails into the fabric of the sofa and his lips curl into a near-frenzied snarl.

“Woah, woah! Jason, calm the fuck down! That might not be what's happened!” Roy intercepts, grabbing Jason by the shoulder.

Jason turns to glare at Roy. “But it also might be what happened to her!”

“We should go.” Adrien cuts in sharply, “Max can get the rest of you in via hacking. Félix and I will be the distraction, and I'll bring Kaalki so we have a quick escape in case things go wrong. Whilst everyone else who goes to the show needs to focus on getting Kagami out. Then once that's done, we can try and look for anything that suggests they've got Marinette. And if we find Marinette, we get her out as well.”

Félix nods. “That's a good enough plan for me.”

Smiling bitterly, Adrien tilts his head to one side. “So, who else is up for crashing the show?”

Kori, Roy, Artemis, and Alix all exchange glances before nodding.

“Max and I are in!” Markov pipes up, hovering up in a swing.

“That leaves, who's telling Luka, and Bizarro they're holding down the fort this time?” Jason mutters.

“Dibs not it!” Everyone but Artemis calls out.

She rolls her eyes at the antics of the others. “I will tell the two of them their roles for this mission. Don't worry.”

Jason hums. “We could also probably call in a favour with the Sparrow kid that you,” he nods towards Adrien, “and Marinette befriended. Not to hold down the fort but to help cover us at the fashion show?”

“Oh! I'm sure Sparrow will be more than happy to help! That's a great idea!” Adrien cheers, perking up slightly.

Moving over to the coffee table, Félix places the letter down in the centre. “Right. Let's get ourselves ready to crash a fashion show.”

———

Adrien and Félix both don a light disguise. One that's easy enough to recognise them on a closer inspection but subtle enough to not attract immediate attention.

The others, in heavier disguises, had arrived early and gotten in already—split between two teams. One with hacked tickets, and the other through breaking and entering, the gang's speciality. Sparrow had also been more than happy to help and had roped in a few others from their gang, the Quantic Kids, into helping watch the outside of the building.

Leaving Félix and Adrien to arrive together, separate from the rest of the gang; they make sure to arrive slightly late to try and avoid the worst of the crowds. Approaching the doors, they hand over their tickets and try to appear as nonchalant as possible.

The nearest android guard eyes their tickets and puts out a hand. “Wait.”

“Is there something wrong with our tickets, sir?” Félix asks, smiling sweetly enough to hide the undercurrent of threat.

The android guard nods their head at another then looks the two up and down in a scrutinising—analysing fashion. “We have explicit orders to escort anyone with these tickets to the seats.”

Adrien grimaces. “Understood, lead the way then.”

The android guards exchange nods once more, then the one slightly further away pulls out a radio and starts quietly reporting into it, too low for either Félix or Adrien to catch anything. Useful or otherwise.

“Follow me.” Says the nearer one as they start walking away.

Félix sighs and lightly knocks shoulders with Adrien as a reminder of solidarity as well as to get ready. Waiting for only a second, they both start following after the guard. Félix adjusts the secret mic and camera attached to his tie, ensuring that it was now transmitting its feed to Max and Markov, as well as Luka back at base.

Next to him, Adrien does the same with his own tie and attached secret mic and camera.

They're led down a few hallways, up a couple of winding staircases, and down a few more hallways before the guard stops outside a door with a metal sign on it reading: Private.

“Your seats are through here.” The android guard says, slotting a keycard into the door, causing a glowing keypad panel to open up in the centre. Then, the android guard scans a digital code into the door and the door swings open before it.

Adrien nods to the android guard and tugs Félix after him as he strides across the threshold, head held high.

There's a shriek, as they pass through the door, and a body slams into Adrien and it's only thanks to his vigilante instincts that he doesn't drop the body.

“Oh, Adrikins!” Chloé cries out, hugging him tightly. “I can't believe you're back!” She lets go of him for a second to step back and check out his outfit. “Urgh, you could do with some better clothes though. It's fine,” she says, waving a hand, “after today's show we can go on a shopping trip together!”

Adrien smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly responds, “yeah… it's nice to see you again too, Chloé.”

Félix, the traitor, snickers at Adrien's predicament and steps around the two to fully enter the room. The android guard does not follow, and the door shuts automatically behind them.

Inside, is a private bar and lounge with double doors on the far wall, opposite the 'Private' entry door.

Kagami glances up from her place from the sofa against the wall with the double doors. She raises an eyebrow. “It is good to see that you made it here safely.”

“As safe as we could.” Félix grunts, delicately dropping into the seat next to her on the sofa.

She hums, tuning out Chloé's screeching with practised ease. “How are the horse-related magic tricks you were working on going?”

“Pretty well, though I don't suppose Father will be all too pleased with the one I plan to practise tonight,” Félix responds.

Kagami relaxes her shoulders in relief for a split second. “Oh? And what sort of magic trick is it?”

“I've dubbed it: Call a Key. And it's like those pull a rabbit from a hat tricks but with a horse from a hoop.” He says, drawing a circle in the air. A circle that just so happens to be the same size and shape as Kaalki's average portals.

“I see,” Kagami says, nodding, “well, perhaps after tonight's show, you won't mind showing me it so far?”

Félix grins, “I'd love to, Kagami.”

Their conversation lulls into silence, so Félix hops off the sofa and goes over to the private bar to fix himself and Adrien some drinks. Seeing as Chloé was showing no signs of letting his cousin go at the moment. A potential hazard for the plan, he worries. With drinks in hand, he rejoins Kagami by the sofa.

An announcement rings out over the loudspeakers on the walls as the double doors swing open in a slow and controlled manner.

“That, is our cue that the show will be starting soon,” Kagami mutters to him. She takes a deep breath and raises her voice, “Chloé, Adrien, it is time we take our seats for the show.”

Chloé squeals, forcefully dragging Adrien across the private lounge and through onto the balcony where their booth seats are.

Sighing, Félix follows after the two with Kagami a few steps behind him.

“Oh, I'm so glad you managed to make it to today's fashion show, Adrikins!” Chloé exclaims, clutching at Adrien's arm like a hawk and gesturing wildly with the other. “It's so nice of your daddy to hold this show in the theatre so we could have a private booth together to watch the show! And it's going to be a really special show from what I've overheard, Gabriel's débuting a new and upcoming fashion designer! Isn't that so exciting, I'm sure your daddy will let you model for them now that you're back! After all,” she scoffs, “he's letting that peasant fox model for the designer today.”

“Is that so?” Adrien responds, glancing at Félix with deep-seated worry etched into his stare.

Félix clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

Frowning, Kagami taps Félix on the arm and sends him a questioning glance.

“We'll explain it later.” He mumbles quietly enough for her to just hear.

Below them, the sounds of people taking their seats echoes. A few minutes pass, Félix and Kagami make minor small talk whilst Adrien is forced to listen to Chloé prattle on.

The main lights dim and then go out, plunging the room into darkness. The curtains rise, from the sounds of the heavy and large swathes of fabric moving on the pulleys.

Classical music starts playing—not unlike the music Adrien used to learn on the piano. And one by one, the lights in the shape of asphodels flicker to life on the stage, illuminating a sea of the flowers surrounding a catwalk designed like a river carving through the land. White marble Greco-Esque pillars and arches litter the flower fields. Framing the scene, is the blank white wall at the back of the catwalk and stage. The lighting shifts to cast spotlights on the wall behind the catwalk.

Félix tunes out the rest of the show starting, instead putting all his focus in searching for any security watching their booth, as well as for any sign of Marinette.

The show continues on, slowly models wearing pieces designed like asphodels, butterflies, and cocoons or chrysalises strut up and down the catwalk. The spotlights follow them, making the pieces and models appear to glow under the light.

Luckily, there's no obvious security paying attention to their booth. But that doesn't mean they're in the clear, for all they know, Gabriel could have bugged the place to the rafters. They had worked out before entering, that they'd have to leave before the end of the show. Otherwise, they'd most likely be captured and brainwashed just like Félix's mum.

A new announcement from the stage gives both Adrien and Félix pause, neither having fully caught what was said other than mentions of the reveal of the designer. They tense and try to hide the signs of their anxious anticipation. The flickering flame of hope in their chests threatens to extinguish from the worry that this could be what they feared it to be.

The lights and spotlights on stage all dim; whilst the music fades to a quieter volume. The almost deafening echoing clack-clack-clack of heels against the catwalk seems so much louder than when the models in heels had been walking across it.

Félix holds his breath and clasps his hands together tightly. Adrien leans forwards to get a better look over at the stage. They should be nudging Kagami and getting ready to go by now but they can't will themselves to look away. Like a tragedy; a car catching fire and about to crash.

A figure in a chrysalis dress steps onto the catwalk. Step by step by step, they slowly walk to the end of the catwalk. The faint glow of the lights still perfectly illuminates the figure's face though.

And Adrien's heart stops. “No!”

“What? Is that—?” Chloé starts, only to be interrupted by the cacophonous roar of a standing ovation from the rest of the audience.

Félix, Adrien, and Kagami all pale in horror.

“That's… that's Marinette.” Kagami whispers to Félix, her panic thinly veiled.

Stiffly, Félix nods and swallows a breath of air thickly. “So. Minor change of plans.”

“I can see why.” Kagami responds automatically, in horror.

On the catwalk below, the dress shimmers and appears to crack. Shadowy mist seeping from the cracks is followed by a blinding glow eviscerating the darkness. From the cracks, the outer layers of the dress splinter away, and the layers below begin to unfurl. Bright white, beautiful butterfly wings edged with black and the odd symmetrical red spots.

Gabriel Agreste, Papillon, joins her on the stage. “Isn't this such a momentous and wonderful occasion? Tonight, we have witnessed the eclosion of a new Papillon within the Atelier Agreste. And I'm delighted by the bright welcome Phoebus has received.”

At the call of her Papillon name, Phoebus bows.

Félix's heartbeat pounds in his ears, nearly drowning out Gabriel's words.

Before he, or Adrien, can react, there's a buzzing in his ear from the disguised earpiece comms.

“Félix. Adrien. Get Kagami and get out! Now!” Max's voice filters through, “they're sending a reinforcement of guards towards your location. I'll try to hack them but it'll be close!”

Standing abruptly, Adrien yanks himself away from Chloé's death grip.

“Wha—Adrikins!” She protests, still too shocked by the revelation of the new designer having been Marinette, to try and stop him.

Adrien backs away into the private lounge, flushing red with embarrassment. “Sorry Chloé, I-uh… need to use the men's room. Be-right-back!”

He turns heel and makes his way over to the opposite door and yanks it open.

Félix stares at Adrien in disbelief before nodding at Kagami and grabbing her by the arm. He does not so much run, as speed walk after Adrien.

The second all three of them are clear of the private door's threshold, Kagami kicks her foot back to shut the door behind them. The three then start sprinting down the halls.

The hidden earpiece crackles again. “You three and Jason are the nearest to the backstage where Marinette will be soon. I'll lead the four of you towards the location, just follow my directions and don't do anything stupid once Jason joins you.”

“No promises,” Adrien mutters in response. “I'm seriously considering committing patricide at this point.”

Max doesn't immediately respond, presumably having switched channels to help deal with the others, or get out himself.

Less than a minute later, the earpiece crackles again, but this time it's Luka who starts relaying the directions to the backstage whilst keeping them updated on both human and android guards as well as security camera positions.

“You're halfway there, Jason should be just through the third door on the right.” Luka informs, sounding calm but they know him too well to not hear the veneer of fury beneath every word.

Adrien yanks open the third door on the right open, and lo and behold, Jason is sprinting past the open door in the corridor it leads to.

“Wait up!” Félix hisses after Jason.

It seems Jason manages to hear him and skids on the balls of his steel-toed boots, scratching up the wooden flooring, to stare at them with his green eyes blazing. “Alix was fucking right.” He bites out.

“We are coming with you, to save her.” Kagami states, looking equally furious.

Jason cocks his head to the side. “Then c'mon, we need to run.”

The four exchange nods and glances and burst into a sprint down the hallway, following Luka's directions.

Direction after direction after direction. It feels like Luka relays to them hundreds of those endless directions before the four of them reach a long hallway with double doors at the end that has a large sign above it, labelled: Backstage.

Skidding to a stop again, Jason holds out an arm to stop the others as well. “As much as I want to run in, laser guns a-blazin', who knows what kinda fucking security shit they've got ready for us.”

Adrien grimaces. “But they knew we didn't know that they have Marinette. So why would they prepare security for us rescuing her when they're trying to capture us?”

“Have you forgotten how much security the Big Butterfly placed around my mother, after brainwashing her? Public spectacles like this always involve far too much security around the shining star of the show!” Félix spits acerbically, fists shaking, breathing shallow.

Adrien places a hand on his shoulder. “Worst case situation, we can get Kaalki to get us out and we can try and rescue Marinette another time.”

Jason scowls. “If we're forced to do that, I want to shoot that fucker's skull in first.”

“Technically, shouldn't Adrien get right of shooting him before you?” Kagami asks, half-smiling that awkward smile of hers.

Huffing, Jason nods to Adrien. “Fine, but I dibs second shot then. And if you go for the skull, I'm shooting that bastard in the fucking dick.”

Adrien makes a choking noise and doubles over, barely managing to stifle his laughter. He takes a few deep breaths and wipes tears away from his eyes. “Deal!” He wheezes, “please, I'd like nothing more than for you to get the second shot and do that!”

“Good fucking choice,” Jason mutters in response, a cheeky grin crossing his face for but a second before it falls back to the furious snarl. “Now, let's see what's behind the doors and get our anthill tiger back!”

The earpieces Jason, Félix, and Adrien are wearing, buzz again. “Might want to hurry up.” Luka smoothly informs. “Three human guards are coming your way. And as far as Max can see through his hacking, there's no android guards or drones backstage.” He pauses, “the rest of our gang won't be able to reach you four in time, neither will Sparrow's. You're going solo.”

The four exchange quick glances among themselves. “That's a risk we're willing to take if it means getting Marinette back.”

“I'll keep you updated on any changes. Break a leg or three, especially try to break the Big Butterfly's legs if you can.” Luka responds.

Jason snorts. “We'll try our best.”

The channel goes silent, as Jason quietly opens the backstage doors and the four of them sneak through.

———

The show has ended, by the time the four of them arrive through the backstage doors. Jason spots a rack of clothes and gestures to the others to follow him as he creeps over to hide behind it.

She's there. Marinette—or Phoebus, as the Big Butterfly had called her. There in the centre of the backstage. Standing stock-still. Still dressed in that fucking chrysalis—butterfly dress. Like a creepy human-sized doll.

Jason focuses on his breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out. Trying not to let the sickly radioactive green flood his vision and veins.

He freezes as he watches the Big Butterfly himself stride up to her and circle her like a vulture.

“You did very well today, Phoebus.” The Big Butterfly says, with a sneer on his face. “Unfortunately, my son and Nephew have so rudely absconded from their booth before the show ended.”

The Papillon Phoebus dips her head, and ever so hollowly sounding, replies, “that is most unfortunate.”

It takes all Jason's concentration to not be sick at how empty she sounds and acts. He glances at the others and Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all look sickened by the sight.

The Big Butterfly's sneer morphs into a scowl. “It is indeed. However, Mademoiselle Bourgeois was able to inform us of something very interesting.”

Tilting her head to one side, the Papillon Phoebus stares blankly at him. “Oh?”

“Apparently, my son had quite the reaction to the sight of you on stage, my Papillon. Isn't that interesting.” The Big Butterfly taunts.

She blinks at him then nods slowly and stiffly. “Yes. That is very interesting, Monsieur Agreste.”

His scowl curls into a victorious sneer. “That's what I thought, my dear Papillon.”

Jason shakes, he can't watch any more of this fucking creepy-ass bastard messing with his gang co-leader. He whips both of his recently upgraded guns from their holsters and grips the handles with whitening knuckles.

Before the others can think to stop him, Jason dives out of cover and shoots his twin guns. Pew-pew!

The laser bolts slam into the back of the Big Butterfly, frying two circles into his suit and melting the material to his skin.

The Big Butterfly screams in pain and fury. He pivots in place to turn and glare at where the shots had come from. The light flashes across his glasses again, making the lenses appear opaque. As his gaze latches onto Jason, his victorious sneer splits and twists and unfurls into a monstrous smirk. He starts to laugh, like poison bubbling and frothing from his lips.

And as the Big Butterfly does, Jason catches sight of the glint of small purple flapping around the Papillon Phoebus'—Marinette's—neck.

The bubbling and frothing poison of an Akuma's transformation swirls around her, staining every speck of her and forming a glimmering chrysalis once more.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jason chants under his breath. Eyes wide with instant regret, he taps his earpiece. “We fucked up! Holy fucking shit, we fucked up!”

“What?!” Comes the frantic response from Luka. “What do you mean? What's happened? What did you do?”

Jason laughs nervously, “she's an Akuma! She's been fucking akumatised.”

“Hold on as long as possible, the others got swarmed by guards and can't reach you yet.” Luka frets.

At that, Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all burst out from behind the clothes rack, each with laser pistols also in hand. Zap-zap-zap.

The three more shots ring out but only one hits, Adrien and Félix both shaking too much for theirs to land.

“We shall try.” Félix responds to Luka.

The chrysalis-Akuma-poison coalesces around the Papillon Phoebus before cracking and dripping away. Revealing two large butterfly wings exactly like the dress. Phoebus wings. She flutters her wings and begins to float a metre or so above the ground.

“Fuck!” Jason curses, and behind him he can hear the other three echoing the sentiment. He stares at the purple butterfly chain around her throat. “Akuma is in the necklace!”

A bright light, not dissimilar to a flashbang, pops off. Immediately blinding all four of them.

“Capture them!” The Big Butterfly orders.

Kagami yelps.

The blindness caused by the light fades, and Adrien gasps. Jason swears under his breath again, and he and Félix both fire off more shots. This time towards the Akuma object, as the Big Butterfly has vanished.

Cocooned to the ground, Kagami squirms, trying to free herself from the Akuma's trap.

“Fucking shit!” Jason helpfully says on the earpiece channel. “She's trying to fucking capture us for the fucking bastard! And he's disappeared!” He bodily throws himself to the ground to dodge a mote of brilliant radiance lancing towards him.

The Papillon Phoebus tilts her head to the side, wings glittering with bright golden light like her namesake. Safely blocking the laser blasts towards her object with her massive wings.

Thankfully, only one of Kagami's hands is trapped. And not the one with the gun. As quietly as possible, she shoots the gun to slice through the cocoon and free herself.

The wings start to glow brighter and brighter and brighter.

“Flashbang!” Jason yells, diving behind cover in the form of a cluster of mannequins and slapping a hand over his eyes.

Kagami grabs Adrien and the two duck behind a different rack of clothes. Whilst Félix leaps over a stack of boxes and hides there.

The radiance flares once more, but fails to blind any of them.

“We need to shoot the object. I'll draw the attention at the front. Kagami, get behind and get ready to shoot her in the back as a distraction. Adrien and Félix, you two flank her on opposite sides.” Jason plans quietly into the earpiece channel.

Jason leaves his hiding spot first, vaulting over the cluster of mannequins and shoots a laser bolt at the Papillon Phoebus' necklace again. It's blocked by the wings, as to be expected.

Félix leaps back over the stack of boxes and flanks the Papillon Phoebus on the right. Whilst Adrien rolls out from behind the clothes rack and flanks on the left.

The three in position, shoot simultaneously at the Akuma, as to distract her.

Kagami bolts from her hiding spot and flanks behind the Papillon Phoebus.

The wings start to flutter and glow brighter once more.

“Now!” Jason yells.

Zap!

The blast slams into the Papillon Phoebus' back, right between where her wings connect to her shoulder blades. Instinctively she splays her wings out in pain and curls backwards.

Zap-zap!

Two more blasts slam into her, one in each wingtip.

Zap!

Finally, Jason shoots last and his aim is true. Crackle-snap!

The blast sears through the chain necklace, warping the metal and snapping it in twain.

The two parts of the object clatter to the ground and a purple butterfly claws itself out from the broken chains.

Jason spins his gun in his hand and shoots a final laser straight through the moth. Burning a perfect hole through its wings and killing it instantly. Purple Akuma-goop leaks from its injuries and then fades, leaving behind the scorched corpse of what was once a white butterfly.

He sighs in relief, and quickly taps his earpiece. “Akuma dealt with.”

As he says that, the Akuma de-transforms midair and Marinette collapses to the ground. Limp, like a puppet with their strings cut or a discarded doll—a cracked Pupa.

“Thank fuck.” Luka's responds over the channel, sounding tired.

Jason drags a hand down his face. The green poisoning his vision dissipates for the time being, and he hurries over to Marinette. Ever so carefully, he scoops her into his arms—bridal style—and pulls her close to his chest.

Kagami drops to her knees and breathes.

Adrien weakly punches the air with his gun in hand. “Wooh! Luka, we're calling a key home. Disable security please?”

Félix snorts, moving back to lean against the stack of boxes.

“No need, there's no security cameras backstage. I'll hear your songs when you back at base.” Luka relays, tone light with happiness and relief despite the tiredness. “The others have dealt with the guards, so they're on their way back too.”

Adrien transforms with Kaalki, becoming Cheval Mallet. He walks over to Kagami and offers her a hand. Félix, and Jason with Marinette unconscious in his arms join them.

The portal opens up before them, and they walk through together. Today, they've won another battle. Tomorrow they'll try to find out what has been done to Marinette. But tonight, tonight all the conscious members of the gang huddle together in the lounge. And among themselves, they build a pillow and blanket fort, and relax.

They're all together, and they're all safe, for once.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| So title dissection, Atelier meaning Fashion Studio comes from the Latin "Astula" meaning "Splinter", Astula also is the Genus for the flower Asphodel. Phoebus as mentioned in the fic is the god of light but it also means "Bright". Eclose is the leaving of a cocoon/chrysalis. Pupa is another term for cocoon/chrysalis when the butterfly/moth becomes soup and goes through metamorphosis. But it also comes from the Latin meaning Girl or Doll. So In the Fashion Studio's Glow, the Bright/Light Doll will be Released. |

| Fun Fact: Larva/Larvae mean Mask or Ghost in Latin. Also the suffix "Arches" means Leader/Ruler. So Jasonarches means Jason-Leader :3 |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

Text

On Your Six, Chapter 3

Day 3: Parenting for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Mind

Early on in his career, Qrow had come to value the strength in listening.

He knew for every omega who walked through his door, he was a step in their healing process. It didn’t matter at what point in that process he was treading into; everyone came needing something. A sense of control. A desire to feel beautiful again. A need to shake off shame. No matter what it was, every reason was understandable and downright defensible.

But he knew his deed didn’t always end at the tip of a needle. Sometimes it wasn’t what was on their skin, but what was in their minds that weighed the most. Those were his talkers. The ones who felt so hurt or overcome by what had happened to them, they had to tell their story to someone.

So Qrow listened. He listened to the Mistrialian baker who tried to escape his abusive relationship by drugging his alpha one night and escaping into the night as the word Disloyal was overwrote. Erased Rebel as he was enraptured by the Rights Activist from Mantle who handed out self-funded newspapers all dedicated to lining out the inequalities among the dynamics. Nearly cried with the elderly Valian spinster who had been trafficked from her home in Vacuo decades ago to became the fourth wife of a rich proprietor as he made sure Owned could never be seen again.

Now today, he was turning the word SLUT into art as Tai recounted the love story that dared him to engage in one of society’s most taboo acts.

“So there I was, dragging my feet out of the ER at 2 AM, feeling like the worst parent in history as Yang bawls in my arms. I was so distressed, I couldn’t even remember where I’d parked and just started going through the rows.” They were sitting today. Tai cross-legged on his bed and staring out the window while Qrow sat behind him. “That’s when Summer called to me. She remembered I was one of the patients just going in as she got off her shift. She asked me what was going on and I told her how the doctor who’d seen us kicked me out for wasting his time over some diaper rash. And you know what she did?” A smile uplifted his tone. “She looked between me and Yang and said, ‘No parent spends five hours in the ER over nothing.’ Then she took my arm and led me back inside. Snapped at the staff to give her a room and saw to Yang herself. I couldn’t believe it. She’d just come off of a twelve-hour shift. She had to of been exhausted. But that was the kind of woman she was. When she saw someone who needed help, she put everything else aside to do it.”

A hiss breathed through the other’s teeth as Qrow lined over the base of the T, tailing the ends to look more like the trunk of a tree. “Were you right?” He prompted, hoping to distract him.

“Yeah. Yeast infection.” Tai puffed up proudly. “Nothing a bit of prescription cream and some TLC couldn’t fix, but it still felt so validating to be told my worries weren’t just in my head. It was the first time since Raven left that I felt I really could do this on my own.” That uplift was back, overlayed with fondness. “But, it was Summer who reminded me that just because I can, doesn’t mean I had to.”

He moved his pen higher, maple leaves beginning to bloom along his back. “How’d it happen?”

“Well, so, they called me in a few days after that night for a check-up. When I got there, I found out Summer had arranged things to make sure she was the doctor attending us. She had told me at the time it was just normal for her to touch base with anyone who came through ER that she had looked after. That it made her happy to see her patients doing well.” He barked out a laugh. “She was such a liar! She didn’t tell me this until later, but apparently the only reason she did it was because she thought I was cute and wanted to see me again.”

Tch, what a brat. Qrow scoffed, doggedly ignoring the had he been in her position, he absolutely would have done the same.

“We started talking and joking around. One thing led to another and suddenly she was asking me out for coffee! I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair. But… I said yes. And, it was the best decision of my life.”

He couldn’t do this. He jerked back and turned off the pen before the shaking in his hand ruined his work. “Sorry. Hand’s cramping up. Can we take a break?”

Oblivious as ever, the omega gave him one of those stupidly bright smiles that he hated because it made his heart do weird things. “Sure.” As they slid off the bed and Tai took the opportunity to stretch, he asked, “How about tea?”

“Yeah, I’ll go put on the pot.” Qrow didn’t even get two steps before a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Nope. You’re resting.”

“But-”

“Relax. I got this.”

Then Tai wandered right into his kitchen like he owned the place, leaving him with no choice but to throw up his arms and take a seat. Qrow watched him go through the motions, turning to fill the kettle. From this distance, the word that had once been etched into his skin was completely unreadable, overtaken by a mismatch of new marks in various states of healing.

A perfect reflection of the man who bore them.

Regret dropped like a stone in his stomach, feeling sick as the omega took care of him over a lie. He lowered his head and took his punishment in the form of a simple question, “So when did you two get serious?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Sums and I?”

“No, I meant you and me.” Qrow snarked, because he hated himself.

Tai set the pot on the stove, the burner sparking to life. “I knew we had a forever connection the day you offered to eat all the yellow Starburst from the bag and leave all the good flavors for me.”

Well now he was resentful and insulted. “Yellow is the good flavor.”

“Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that.” He started tearing open a pair of tea packets, dropping one each in the mugs. “Anyways, promise not to judge me too much?”

“For what, your love life or your weird issues with Starburst?”

“Qrow!”

He held up hand as a peace offering, leaning back. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

Tai eyed him suspiciously for several seconds before finally saying, “We bonded four months in.”

“FOU-” He cut himself off and took a breath. He seemed to have to do this a lot more lately. “I mean, that’s not so bad.”

“Good save.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Look, I thought I was going too fast too. But when I would sit down and think of my future, I just could see her in it. Summer was a piece of me I didn’t even know I was missing. And when I found out she felt the same about me we decided, fuck it! Who cares about what everyone else is going to say? We knew we wanted each other.”

On display as he was, Qrow’s gaze fell to the spot on Tai’s neck where the two scars lay. The imperfect ovals were layered atop one another right in the juncture of his shoulder and collarbone, cutting through his scent gland. Similar to a snake’s fangs, alpha incisors had a hollow part, allowing them to release a bit of their musk during the bite which would then inject itself into an omega’s glands and permanently alter their scent.

Staking a claim.

Granted, with the tattoo he couldn’t smell even a hint of either Raven or Summer any longer. But back then, he could imagine how pungent it had been. Even if the new smell wasn’t a dead giveaway, the pinker shade of the fresher one was a big neon sign that drew the eye. There wouldn’t be any hiding it, even if the couple had tried.

Which meant they absolutely became the gossip of every corner on the street. Summer being well off and Tai being abandoned and annulled didn’t help matters in the slightest. He already knew what people would have thought, well before the brand was ever made.

He frowned. “Even knowing you’d get the worst of it?”

“Tch. Tell me something else that’s new.” Tai snipped, rolling his eyes. “You know, I could have been a perfect little omega. Quiet. Thoughtless. Unopinionated. Or I could have also spent the rest of my life as a part of the Single’s Forever Club. Risen Yang alone and never looked at another Alpha again. And you know what? People would still have shit to say about me. That’s what happens when society’s rigged against you.” He smacked his hand down on the counter. “When does my happiness matter?”

That stone still in his stomach was only getting heavier. “Sorry.”

The fire burnt out as quickly as it was there, and Tai only shook his head, mumbling, “Forget it. It’s whatever right?”

“It’s not. It’s fucking wrong.” He said with more fury than he meant to.

Tai’s smile was tired and defeated. “If only more people thought like you.”

The kettle whistle blew, effectively ending their conversation. It wasn’t long before Tai was taking his seat across from him, their mugs steaming on the table before them. Idly, Qrow traced the rim of his with his index finger, trying to think of something to say.

His focus shifted when a hand was suddenly being held out before him, clearly asking for something. “Uh?”

“Give me your hand.” Tai demanded.

His brain moved sluggishly, but when he understood what the other was offering, his face went redder than his eyes. “I, uh, need to drink my tea?”

“You’ve got a left one for that. Come on already.”

“It’s fine. It’s not that-” Any argument he had slipped away when he tried pulling his hand further away, only for the omega to reach over and snag it.

The simple touch was like electricity zinging through his muscles, leaving him helpless to resist as Tai laid his arm across the table. “You’re such a big baby.” He teased as he rolled up the cuff of Qrow’s shirt, pressing the pads of his fingers along the length of his forearm.

When the massage started, Qrow absolutely melted. While he hadn’t been entirely honest, it would still be true to say that he was probably working his way into an early case of carpal tunnel with how much tension built from his shoulder down to his wrist during his work. He sighed, slumping over the table as the other made his way up past his elbow. “I hate you.” He mumbled, face pillowed in his other arm.

“Yeah, I’m the worst.” Tai replied cheerily.

Gods, if only that were true, then maybe he wouldn’t love him as much as he did.

“I wish you could have met her.” Tai told him a little after sundown.

Qrow hummed questioningly, not pulling his eyes up from the midribs he was painstakingly adding onto every leaf. He felt like he was performing some sort of a balancing act, sitting on the edge of the recliner so he was close enough to draw while also trying to keep out of the beam of his scroll light pointed at them from his nightstand, since the weak 40 watt overhead just wasn’t bright enough to work with. There was a reason he never tattooed after dark.

“Summer.” Tai clarified, reminding him exactly why they were an hour behind. “You woulda liked her.”

He almost laughed at how inane that statement was. “Doubt that.”

“Really! She was sweet and a little shy. A bit of a rebel too. And I mean, she moved to Vale ‘cause she knew she could help more people in need for cheaper than the high end hospitals she could have worked in would charge.” He glanced over his shoulder as Qrow re-inked. “You gotta let that Atlesian stigma go, man.”

There really was no good way to answer that, so he didn’t bother trying. Gods only knew what Tai would have thought of him, if he found out the real reason they never would of gotten along was because Qrow didn’t believe he’d be able to resist his instincts a second time around. The ones that screamed at him to show Tai he was the more worthwhile mate, even if that meant delving things into a fistfight.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now.” The omega said when he caught on that he wasn’t going to get a response. “At least you’ll have a chance to meet Ruby. I warn you though, you’re totally going to fall in love. She’s got so much energy to her, like you wouldn’t believe. She giggles so much too, it’s the cutest little sound. And-! And…”

Pausing, Qrow flipped off the pen. “Tai?”

“S-Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face, clearing his throat loudly. “It just, hurts. Not knowing how they’re doing.” His voice broke. “I miss them.”

Not sure what else to do, he silently pressed his forehead against the base of Tai’s neck, mindful of his back as he wound an arm across his middle in a loose hug.

Knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t nearly enough.

A year ago, when Qrow was working outside of Mantle for a spell, a client he’d never forget walked through his door. He was unusually broad-shouldered and buff, just like Tai. Yet, it wasn’t his physical attributes that truly made him stand out. It was the omega’s confidence. He had a stride to him that exuded self-assurance and a stance that yielded pride.

It threw him completely off his game, as he was used to playing the role of consoler. Yet, as the omega held out his hand to shake, Qrow found himself wanting to compete against him. “You’re Harbinger. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Only good things, I hope.” He replied, his grip firm and unyielding. “And you are?”

“Clover Ebi.” That name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place why. “And they were. You did a rebrand for a buddy of mine who lives over in the orange district. I was hoping you could do the same for mine.”

That brought some air to his sails as he found himself on more comfortable ground. “Yeah, ‘course I can. Why don’t you take a seat and I can get a gander at what I’m working with?”

“That’s the thing…” For the first time since he walked in, some of that boldness faltered. “If I show you, I need you to promise me not to freak out.”

Well, now he was really intrigued. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. Wait – it’s not on like, your ass cheek or something right?”

“You’re as crude as Robyn warned me you’d be.”

Qrow perked up at the name, remembering her as the outspoken journalist he’d looked after during his first stint in Mantle.

Clover placed a hand over his left bicep. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s under this.”

“Okay then, what’s the proble- Oh, shit.”

His heart rate jumped from resting to cardiac arrest in record time at the sight of the brand – not a harsh word like so many others had been forced to bear, but a simple, cursive script of the man’s own last name. The mark of someone who was in service of the Atlas military.

Which meant he was probably being set up right now.

“Fuck!” Qrow stumbled backwards, looking around wildly for a weapon. An exit. Anything.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Clover followed after him, albeit at a slower pace. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t freak out.”

He picked up an umbrella, holding it en garde like his sister used to with her katana. “We’re way past that, buddy. So, what is this? A trap? Are a bunch more of you about to bust through my wall to take me in?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Will you just – put the umbrella down!”

He came within striking distance – so Qrow struck. A fast swipe at his face.

Clover didn’t even look as his hand shot up to catch it. With strength he wasn’t even trying to hide, he yanked the makeshift weapon right out of Qrow’s grip and tossed it over his shoulder. He caught the fist that came next, boxing him into the corner so that he didn’t have room to move. It was an oddly uncomfortable feeling, being pinned down and powerless.

But while the hold was solid it wasn’t tight, nor was Clover’s face aggressive. “Can you calm down, please? I didn’t come here to turn you in. I came here because I want your help.”

“Why?” He barked back. “You chose to take that mark. Feeling regretful now soldier boy?”

The omega’s expression shifted darkly. “The only thing I chose was to fight for my kingdom, because I believe in protecting the people. This mark is something I have to bear, if I want to pursue that goal.”

His hands slid off, giving Qrow some breathing space. As he stared at the other, suddenly it came to him. “Wait. Ebi. I knew I recognized your name. You made headlines recently. You’re the captain of Tin Jimmy’s specialty squad.”

It had been a huge sensation, an omega taking a leadership position like that. It was practically unheard of and people talked it up like it was a sign of the ‘changing times.’ But he had brushed it off as another one of the kingdom’s typical publicity stunts. They always had something or the other going on to turn the people’s heads – because if everyone was looking at Atlas, no one would see anything else.

“I don’t get it. Why?” His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.

“Because I represent something larger than just a captain of a team. I represent hope. The worst thing for us is when no one’s talking. And I sure got them talking.”

That made sense. Nothing changed if no one was having the conversation. Still… “Rebranding could get you decommissioned. Negative PR be damned.”

“Well, as they say: Sometimes you got to risk it all for a dream.” Clover said with a quirk of his lips. “So, will you help me?”

It was one of the most needlessly reckless decisions he had ever made, but he did. In two, relatively short sessions, they were done. He slept with one eye open every day in-between, but when they finished and Clover was instead urging him to keep his contact info (“Just in case you ever get in trouble.”), Qrow felt oddly at ease. Like maybe he truly did make a friend in all this.

He never questioned why the case never hit the news – but if he left Mantle a little quicker than normal, well, that was his business.

Now, as he hit dial on that old contact, he could only pray Clover at least was going to keep this part of his word.

He picked up after the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey soldier boy.” Qrow started, trying to sound casual. “It’s Harbinger.”

A beat. Then, “Oh. Oh! Uh, two seconds okay?” There was a muffled bit of a noise and a faint, “I’ll be right back. Gotta take this.” A bit more shuffling and background noise as Qrow assumed he left the room, then Clover’s voice was back in his ear, surprisingly frantic. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s not an emergency call.” He replied.

The omega let out a sigh of relief. It felt oddly nice to be worried about. “Oh thank Gods. So then, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me with something.” Qrow said, unconsciously pacing around his box-in-the-wall apartment. “Might be a longshot but, you got any connection with OPS?”

The OPS, or Omega Protection Services, were a kingdom-to-kingdom association that talked big about how they were dedicated to the proper care of the omega brethren in need. While in some veins of their work that was true, like funding lobbies for better rights in the system or providing financial support to those in trouble, it was equally true that under the table the organizations were fed big money from the reformatories to turn over a revolving door of clientele.

The biggest contributor of which was the Crisis Department. It was no secret that a death of a bond mate was devastating to an omega and there was a small percentage of those who became non-functional after the loss. Therefore, any omega known to have recently lost their mate was visited by an OPS agent. If the agent found the omega to be in such an extreme state, it was customary that the widow would be sent away for rehabilitation and any children would be rehomed either with known family or into a foster family until the parent was well enough to care for them again.

The key words being a small percentage. However, according to statistics, almost a quarter of all widowed omegas were in need of ‘reformation’. A percentage that went up or down depending on what kingdom was involved. Vale, their home country, was the only one underperforming on those numbers. By all accounts, Tai never should have gone to a reformatory at all.

The issue was the OPS agent assigned to the omega was from their alpha’s home kingdom. Which meant the agent that knocked on Tai’s door was from Atlas, the kingdom boosting the highest reformatory count by almost double any other one. They also had one of the strictest policies on how they rehomed children. Rather than even consider familial connections, they fostered all of them, claiming it would provide a more stable environment without the potential of an omega in probation from seeking them out and ‘influencing’ their young one’s minds before they were fully well.

All this to say it was almost impossible to know where Tai’s kids were unless he could talk to someone on the inside.

“I know someone who works out of there.” Clover said, before prying almost teasingly. “Why? Who are you looking for?”

Qrow realized too late that he probably should have expected this. “Don’t get any ideas!” He squawked. “I’m… trying to get some info on my niece. Nieces, actually. Just wanting to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“Oh.” Just like that, Clover was all business again. “Yeah, I can swing that. Just gonna need their names and ages, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. The names of their sires helps too.”

A sense of relief spread through him. “Yeah I can get that to you. I’ll message it.”

“Perfect! Should have something for you in a few days, okay?”

“Thank you Clover.”

“Anytime.”

It was only after the call ended and he’d written out the requested information, that it hit Qrow.

If he disclosed all this, it really wouldn’t be much further of a stretch for Clover to locate his own information alongside it. All these years on the lam potentially wasted in one single text message.

He flopped onto his bed with a groan, mussing a hand through his hair as the weight of the decision nettled him. Yet, as his thumb moved over to erase everything, his gaze unconsciously fell to his nightstand, where the pages of Tai’s designs were still resting. Thought of all the pain his friend still had to go to finish them, coupled with all he bore before this. Wouldn’t just a day of solace be worth it?

His thumb moved back up.

Sometimes you just had to risk it all, right?

Qrow hit send.

Tai smelt his anxiety the moment he walked through the door.

“Everything alright?” He asked, looking about the room as if he expected to find a portion of it on fire.

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow assured, doing a very bad job of actually appearing alright as he fidgeted with his necklace. “I just have something I wanted to show you. Come here.”

“O…kay?”

Tai followed him over to his bed, sitting down beside him. It was more comfortable than the stiff plastic of the mismatched dining chairs at least, but now Qrow was also realizing it was painfully intimate. As he sat there, fighting the urge to just shove his scroll into the other hands, he realized maybe he should have planned this better. “So, I know this guy from Atlas, right? Someone on the higher end who has a lot of connections. And well, I asked if he might be able to check in on your daughters.”

“What?!” The omega gripped onto his arm, a sort of manic desperation dancing in his eyes. “Qrow, are you serious?”

He nodded, plucking his scroll off the nightstand and swiping over to his photo album. “Yeah and he was able to get me this from their file.” He handed the device over, seeing the way Tai eyes went wide. The photo was reportedly back from January, taken on some sort of outing the family had been on. The two girls were sitting in a sandbox, Yang pushing sand into a yellow bucket with her hands while Ruby watched her, biting on the end of the shovel that her sister probably should have been using.

“They’re with a beta family. An older couple whose kids have already left the house.” Qrow rambled as his friend just continued to stare at his children. “It’s a real nice place. Both the girls have their own rooms and there’s a backyard for them and everything. And the expense reports are showing their getting a nice, balanced diet and toys and even some learning, uh, things. Books and flashcards and all that fancy shit. And, well, uh – T-Tai?”

Tears dripped from the man’s chin, hitting the display of the scroll. “Yang’s in pigtails.”

“What?”

Tai lifted his head, eyes swimming. “I couldn’t get her to let me brush her hair most days, let alone put it in pigtails.”

“Tai…”

The omega brought the device to his chest, as if it was a suitable replacement for the children he’d rather hug. “And look at how big Ruby is now. She’s sitting up all on her own now. Probably walking.” He sobbed, a wretched, terrible noise that burst from something aching to his very core. “What else have I missed? Ruby has to be talking now. I didn’t even get to hear her first word. And Yang’s old enough to be in kindergarten – I should have been there to take her to her first day. But I wasn’t! I wasn’t there for any of it!”

Something in Qrow’s own heart shattered listening to the father’s anguish and he surged forward, gathering Tai up. Pulled him into a tight embrace as if it could protect him from all the hurt he had to bear.

“It’s not fair.” Tai cried into his shoulder. “It was awful enough, losing Summer. But then those OPS bastards came into my house, took one look at my marks and said I was unfit to raise my own kids! I felt so humiliated.” He clenched onto fistfuls of Qrow’s shirt, shaking hard enough he might just fall apart. “It’ll be almost two years by the time they give them back to me. They took those years away from me and I’m never getting them back!” He heaved over another sob. “What if they don’t even remember me Qrow?”

He ran his fingers soothingly through the other’s hair. “No one could forget you Tai. Not with that big, stupid, sunny smile a’yours. Those girls’ll take one look at it and go ‘there’s daddy!’. I just know it.”

It earned him a watery laugh that only delved into more tears. If he could have, Qrow would have torn up all of Atlas to find those pups and bring them back to Tai right then and there. As it was, there was little else he could do but hold him through it.

When the cries eventually turned to sniffles, Tai pulled away to wipe at his face. He looked a mess, eyes bloodshot and blotchy and red. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lose it on you like that.”

“Think I should be the one saying sorry.” He cast a guilty glance to his scroll, which had fallen onto the bed at some point. “I just thought – I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I wasn’t.”

“Oh, no! Qrow.” Tai pat his knee reassuringly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me to see them. To know you did all this for me.” He cast his gaze away, sighing. “It’s just, some days I feel like I’m drowning. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my girls. Worry about them. But if I’m too emotional, suddenly I’m ‘too unstable’. So, I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

Qrow’s jaw clenched. Becoming a professional arsonist was sounding better and better every day. “You don’t have to, not with me.”

“Heh. Even if I cry every day?”

“Cry every hour, if you need to.” He made an aborted gesture towards Tai’s hand. Touched his forearm instead. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Alright?”

Tai had no such inhibitions, his other hand laying down over Qrow’s, squeezing gently. “Thank you. I know I haven’t said it nearly enough, but I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past few weeks without you.”

“You would have.” He said, doubtless. Tai was strong inside and out. He’d always admired that about him. “But, I’m glad I can help.”

Anything was worth bringing that smile to his face.

As if on cue, one stretched across Tai’s lips as he said, “I’ll pay you back one day, promise.”

One day, maybe Qrow would tell him he already had.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years

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@bambixxblue wrote this absolutely gorgeous piece and i got a little carried away writing my take on billy’s pov and so here we are lol pls enjoy!!

Billy always figured rock bottom for him would be something Shakespearean. Self-inflicted tragedy. Family bullshit gone too far. Madness and mayhem and spectacle.

He did not picture this. Dying slowly of boredom, too fucking exhausted to even stay pissed at Max. When he got to Hawkins all he had was his anger. With the ocean two thousand miles away and his first and only relationship ended with an awkward, “Clean break, y’know? Don’t really...want to do long distance.” The guy couldn’t even make eye contact when he said it. But then, he never could stomach looking at Billy’s bruises.

It felt empty. Their breakup. Billy barely felt anything afterwards, and that numbness had...grown. Spread. Without any of the things he used to give a shit about, he’s drifting tetherless and cold and so fucking lonely. He hit rock bottom in Hawkins, Indiana, when he shrugged off Max’s needling because he just can’t bring himself to fucking care anymore.

She’s noticed, he knows she has, he isn’t subtle. He isn’t terrorizing her anymore and she’s started to poke at him again. Hesitant, asking about innocuous shit, trying to figure out if he’s forgiven her, but he can’t tell her it isn’t as simple as that. So he ignores her.

As much as he can, anyways, he’s still playing the big brother in front of Neil. Driving her around and shit, pretending he isn’t counting the days until he graduates and he can ditch her. This town. Everything.

He hasn’t found anything in Hawkins worth sticking around for. It’s not like he has friends here. Tommy and his posturing, Carol and her wandering eyes, they don’t give a fuck about him. None of the people who hang around him do, they’re just idiots trying to seem cooler than they are. Or get in his pants.

Makes pretending easy, at least. It’s not like there’s a shortage of girls to hit on.

Even though he kind of wishes there were. Wishes going through the motions didn’t make him feel so sick, didn’t leave his stomach hollow and his heart heavy. With girls back in California it was...whatever. It was fine. Something to do. It made him feel wanted, and that was enough sometimes. But now… now he knows what it’s supposed to feel like, and he hates how wrong anything else is.

There was this one girl, Heather, and talking to her was actually nice. They got along well enough that he didn’t have to fake laughing at her jokes, smiled a little more real around her. Except the whole time she was playing with her hair, and biting her lip, and he had to act like that was what he was focused on, not the fact that they could actually be friends if that was something he was letting himself do.

Because Hawkins isn’t worth his time. It isn’t. Fuck this town and fuck Indiana and fuck trying to make this shithole more bearable because having one conversation with someone he actually got along with opened up a chasm in his fucking chest. He cried himself to sleep that night. Felt everything he’d been pushing away since he moved to Hawkins. All the ways he missed California, and feeling like he belonged somewhere.

The taste of salt made it worse. He hated crying. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and holding his breath until it hurt because he couldn’t make a fucking sound or Neil would hear him. He’d always hated it. But especially now. When the taste of salt makes him ache for things he can’t have anymore. Nights by the pier, stolen kisses that tasted like cheap beer and the saltwater still on their lips. Afternoons spent teaching Max to surf. The precious few memories of his mother, sunshine in her hair and sand between their toes.

He avoided Heather after that. Hadn’t exactly started keeping to himself as much as...trying to disappear into a role. The one Hawkins High had assigned him. Brash outsider, newcomer, bad boy, whatever. He made damn sure that was all anyone would see him as. Acted the part. Didn’t talk about anything that mattered.

And he kept driving Max around. To school, mostly, since they were both going to the same one, which was fucking weird, but made shit easier. To the arcade sometimes. And to her little nerd club.

She’s talked about it, he’s sure, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. It was enough that he got her there, he didn’t need to know what she was doing once he dropped her off.

But she still chatters away, gushing about having friends and talking to people who get her. He’s not jealous. He isn’t.

He turns the music up a little and ignores her scowl at the obvious brush-off.

He also ignores how hard she slams the door when she gets out. It’s passive-aggressive, but they’ve perfected being assholes to each other in several languages by now. She doesn’t flip him off as she stomps away though, and he’s not sure if that’s progress.

Billy’s itching for a cigarette. Neil hates it when he smokes around the house, and if he brings Max back stinking like Marlboro Reds... well it wouldn’t be good. So he can’t even smoke in his own fucking car.

But it’s cold as fuck in Indiana and his leather jacket isn’t enough.

He shifts in his seat. Fuck it. He’ll wait. He can smoke anywhere that isn’t the high school fucking parking lot. He’s about to take off, one hand on the steering wheel, when he looks up and--

Oh. Fuck.

There’s another car in the parking lot. There’s… fuck the car, there’s this guy in the driver’s seat, and--

Forget Indiana being cold, he’s suddenly warmer than the California sun, could heat the whole damn state with what’s unfurling in his chest.

Because...because holy fuck.

He was already looking at Billy, with big fuckin’ doe eyes, soft lashed and expressive, and sparkling with something Billy doesn’t quite have a name for.

And somewhere in the back of his brain he remembers Tommy whining about some guy, some guy who drove a beemer, always toting those kids around. Max talking about one of her friends’ babysitter or whatever, talked about him like he hung the fucking moon, and--

And Billy kind of gets it now. Understands the fuss over Steve goddamn Harrington.

The smile tugging at the corners of Steve’s mouth-- that mouth, goddamn-- is...it’s soft and small, and weirdly intimate considering they’re making eye-contact through two sheets of glass. Billy almost feels like he’s intruding on a moment, except...the warmth in Steve’s eyes is inviting. Makes him feel more at ease than he’s been in...ever.

Jesus fucking Christ, the way the September sun makes Steve shine, his thick brown hair well-kept and glossy, the faded remnants of a summer tan making his skin glow. He’s beautiful. Like a work of fucking art, somehow made flesh and living in Indiana of all places. Billy could spend hours looking at the lines of his profile, the cut of his shoulders, the way his hair falls across his forehead.

Three seconds and one smile. That’s all it took to make him waver. To light him up and make him forget about not caring, about keeping his distance and running the second he gets the chance.

He’s run from a lot of things in his life. Some things he regrets, but he knows he wouldn’t regret anything like he’d regret running from this.

So he smiles back. Almost. Enough. Enough to bring a pretty flush to Steve’s cheeks.

Yeah, this is going to be fun.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #stranger things #a raven's writing desk

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noblesandsstories · 3 years

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The Paranormal Research Journals of Doctor Jaime Anderson: The Electrical Lavender Mouse

The 5th of September, Around 9 P.M.

My official investigation of the attraction center Amped Up Arcade was meant to be just that, a simple investigation so I could see for myself just what was happening and figure out what to do from there. However, I had theorized that a place recorded to have held so much suffering may require more immediate action.

The facts of the case were very blurry, but a concrete fact was Amped Up was founded by two gentlemen: Mr. Issac Kingston and Mr. Kevin Stilmen. Kingston was in charge of the advertising, publicity, and the overall look of the place while Stilmen focused on the inside, keeping the building up to code and maintaining the arcade games and attractions. The place boomed and ran smoothly for a few years. But soon the place fell into a small pit where they needed to be more cost efficient, resulting in them cutting corners, which resulted in a slight loss of business.

In the end, that was not what caused the biggest issues. The biggest problems were the missing children reports that began piling up. Kids would suddenly disappear from around the building, and police investigation led to partial remains of the kids being found all around the city.

Kingston was already pushing the idea of closing the place and starting again somewhere else, however Stilmen was against it.

Then about 15 years ago, almost to the day, Stilmen’s daughter went missing. Her missing persons report was barely out in the public for 48 hours when they announced the building was closing to the public and the two looked for a different location. Stilmen came into possession of the property; however, he refused to do anything with it, allowing it to fall into disrepair.

Over the years, there has been a handful of reports of paranormal activity happening inside the building. Most of them were just the sounds of children and strange electrical phenomena from inside, but the most believable report was of a blood curdling scream that would be heard, if only once in a blue moon.

I personally dismissed them as hoaxes (as they usually are) until an acquaintance of mine told me that I should look into it.

That was how I had found myself in front of the building after getting the city’s mayor to allow my investigation. The building itself was quite large for an attraction in a medium sized town, and that wasn’t even including the outdoor area for the go carts. One could only assume it had grown over time. Most of the windows were boarded or were covered by tarps or sheets in an attempt to keep people from poking around. The brick of the building didn’t show much in terms of damage, but I figured that conclusion would be better left till I got inside.

One thing was for certain however. I could feel the presence of lost souls, and I wasn’t even in the building yet.

It took me a few minutes to bust the doors open at the front, since there was no key to get in from the outside and the hinges were rusted almost beyond repair. Once I entered the front lobby, I decided to start with my usual investigation procedure. I activated the calming rune on my arm so if I met any wary or benign spirits, they would not view me as an immediate threat. I began to explore.

From what I could see of the interior, the building looked to be well in order. Besides some rather tattered looking decorations and chipping paint, the place looked like it was still decently well kept. No signs of cobwebs or extreme amounts of dust.

I decided I would check the front offices before I went deeper into the attraction center to see if I could find a map, blueprints, or anything else helpful for my investigation. There were two main offices directly across from each other, one with Kingston on the door and one with Stilman. I figured that the information I would most be interested in would be in the latter of the two.

The door was unlocked, and on the desk, there were a couple of notes that seemed to track things that needed maintenance. In fact, there was a giant binder full to the brim of nothing but maintenance complaints. I was not all that surprised, since I understand how hard it can be to keep a large place that has a good deal of people coming in and out up to code. But I was interested in the numerous reports of electrical issues. I only skimmed through the papers, but it seemed like there would always be weird phenomena that would occur where the power would cut off randomly for only seconds before coming back on or the power surged and people would end up getting slightly shocked by the machines. According to the notes to the sides, they could never find out what was going on and even Stilmen was stumped.

I quickly erased the idea that it was anything paranormal related as I would have felt any disturbances that could cause such results. As I flipped through more papers and through the desk’s contaminants, I did not find anything else on the power issue beyond the usual complaint and confusion.

I did, however, find a series of notes that talked about another interesting thing that brought amusement to the attraction, their robots. Mr. Stilmen had a talent for engineering, and would build, design, and operate robotic animal puppets. This was the one thing that they never cut back on when they started lowering expenses. Looking at the notes, it seems like Kingston wanted to assign a mascot for the attraction. But he was not fond of all of the robots they had so far and pushed Stilmen to come up with something. I couldn’t find out what they agreed on.

After searching a little longer and not finding anything else helpful, I went and looked at Mr. Kingston’s office. However, the office was completely empty. There was not even any furniture.

(That did not entirely phase me, as Kingston* had almost completely removed himself from the attraction center all together by the time the place had closed.)

I moved on from there and just decided to wander my way around. I activated my wrist compass’ charm. This allowed me to be able to track any spirits that have a simple amount of power.

The compass started to glow faintly and then a small spear of light, acting as the needle, started to spin before pointing in a direction.

I went down the hallway attached to the lobby and found that the direction my compass was guiding me towards was the arcade. The arcade was a well and large room that was practically packed with arcade games of all kinds. Of course, none of them were on, as the power coords on all of them were unplugged.

I followed the cords and upon inspection, realized that all of them connected at some point to the far outside wall. The outlets were in fact more like multiplugs (very heavy duty, in fact) that came from cut out holes in the wall. I knocked lightly on the wall, and sure enough, it sounded hollow. There were probably passage ways of some sorts throughout the building so that they could keep the wiring out of sight of the guests so they would not get damaged or tampered with.

I was quite impressed with this discovery, but before I could start searching for an entrance to these passages, I sensed a presence. In fact, I sensed quite a few. How odd.

I slowly scanned the room from where I stood, hoping to spot some sign of who (Yes who for it was not powerful enough to be a what) was with me. I ended up looking around for a small while before I caught a glimpse of someone small tucking to hide behind a machine.

I quickly glanced at my wrist and saw that this was not who the compass needle was pointing to. Nevertheless, I slowly strode over to where I saw the person. I was a few feet away, but before I could get closer, I heard the distinct crackle of electricity.

I quickly turned its direction and saw a purple streak of lightning hit an arcade game on the far end of the row of games I was in.

The game sparked to life for a second, flashing frames of pixels and notes of digital music, and then the purple lightning went into the next game and the next, distorted speakers and bright strobes of color making its way down the line rapidly towards me.

I could quickly tell that whoever it was was not pleased to see me and that they definitely meant to do harm. I moved away from the machines and made a bolt to the archway that led to the next room, hoping to get away from the electrical machines. As I crossed the room, I was suddenly having projectiles thrown my way. Prizes from the ticket booth and tokens where chucked my way as I ran. I glanced over to see what looked to be the apparitions of children, looking as if they were on the warpath. (Obviously they were doing no damage, but it truly is the intention that counts.)

I was no longer being battered by their vicious attacks when I got out of the arcade and into the next room, however, I was unsure if the electrical being was able to pursue me in their stead.

Looking around, I was in what seemed to be a giant playground that consisted mostly of suspended tunnels that had translucent plastic bubbles made for windows and there were a few slides. There were also many places for children to climb up in many different manners. All in all, it looked like a hamster pen.

Getting over my initial confusion, I promptly started looking to see if there was anything electrical off the bat. There were two security cameras and light fixtures on the ceiling, but I could view nothing else.

I turned back to the way I came in to observe the behavior of the lightning, but it was nowhere to be found. The arcade was as dark and silent as before. The only sign of anything happening was the items strewn about on the ground.

It didn’t need explaining to me that whatever that purple lightning was was what my compass was most likely pointing to, unless there was another being of similar power, which I highly doubted.

In my experience, children's spirits are harder to work with, especially if you are not trained to work with them. They can be very emotional and one wrong move can greatly upset them. Another issue is that they seem to have a great struggle trying to explain what is wrong and what they are feeling. However, it is balanced out with the fact that not many children stay behind in our world, and usually when they do it is for a simple reason that usually caused or led up to their deaths.

To see what appeared to be a good handful of children that all were immediately aggressive and/or terrified is very concerning. This means that all of them were either killed or were here before they died. By the quick glances I got, they all could not be any older than 10 years of age. So now the question is, how do I help them?

Their instant aggression shows that they are not very trusting of me, probably because I’m a stranger and an adult. But that means it will be difficult trying to find a way to figure out what they need to pass on. I decided to keep investigating the building to see if I could find any clues as to what may have happened.

The playground area was a bit smaller than the arcade and, at first glance, definitely seemed to be the most unassuming place so far. I wanted to see if I could find any more signs of the passageways in the walls, so I went about checking the perimeter of the room, careful as to not get close to the doors of the arcade, just in case. It was then I felt the presence of another soul in the room; however, I did not address it.

I instead observed that there was a hidden opening, no more than half a foot wide. Upon pearing in I saw what looked to be a door that would lead into the wall. The opening looked like it could keep most full grown adults out and since there was nothing else there, no child would stay around it long, as long as the door stayed shut and locked. It was also positioned behind other equipment in the back, therefore it would be almost unnoticeable unless you were practically in the playground.

As I was investigating, I could feel the soul creep closer to me and by the time I had finished my observations from above, they were only a few feet away. I started to slowly move, causing the soul to freeze in their tracks. I walked slowly around, pretending I was interested in something or another, keeping my back towards them. I slowly made my way to one of the benches on the opposite side of the wall from the playground and sat, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

After a minute, the soul began creeping closer to me again. This time when they were only about a few feet away, I quietly addressed them.

“You really needn’t try to be so sneaky. I promise I don’t mean any harm.”

I felt the soul flinch at my words and quickly retreat behind the plastic slide in front of me.

“Don’t be scared,” I cooed softly. “I’m not going to do anything. Look, I even have my eyes closed. You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to. I understand that strangers can seem threatening.”

The soul stayed in their place, and for a small moment it was completely still. And then the soul came out from the slide.

“Can you see me?”

It was such a small voice, one that could only belong to a child.

“Yes I can.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always been good at seeing people.”

I felt them come only a hair closer.

“Nobody has ever seen me after I died. Are you a ghost hunter?”

That was an alarming statement. Children ghosts rarely ever fully knew that they were dead. This meant that either they were told or that what ever had killed them made it hard for them to deny what happened.

“No. I’m a ghost helper. I help ghosts find a way home.”

“So, you can help us leave?”

“Yes, indeed I can.”

“How?”

“It depends. I will need to know more.”

“Know more about what?”

“I need to know more about you and your friends and what happened.”

By this point, the child had crept over and was only about a foot in front of me. I slowly opened my eyes and looked down at the child.

“Would you be ok with that? Me asking questions?”

The child sat for a second and then gave a nod.

“If you want, I can show you where everyone is.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

The child gave me a small smile, and then proceeded to lead the way. We left the playground, and into the main hallway. Across from the doors, there was another hallway, but there were signs indicating that it was only for employees. The child went down this hallway anyways, and kept going until we came to a door that was labeled “Maintenance Room.”

Before I even opened the door, I could feel the amount of spirits inside. Once I did, I noticed that they all were sitting down, almost in a huddle. Upon seeing me, their eyes went wide and they all tensed up. The child who led me quickly glided over to where they were, while I decided to sit down at the door.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! He said that he could help us go home!” At his pleading, the other children still seemed to be nervous about me being there. The child then walked back over and sat beside me. “See look! He’s not hurting me!”

I smiled warmly. “You’re alright. I promise I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk about what happened to you.”

One of the children, a young one at that, started to burst into tears.

“Oh, no no nononono, I’m sorry.” I quickly backpedaled. “You don’t have to think about it. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, one of the lamps in a different corner of the room flickered before a trail of electricity moved over to the children. Once it was almost among them, it shifted form and went up the upset child.

The new apparition was that of a robotic mouse that was about the size of a large rabbit. Her spirit glowed a faint lavender hue. A protection spirit.

“Shhhhh, it’s ok, it’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Her voice was different from other spirits, having more of a robotic sound to it. Almost like she was talking through a voice changer of some sorts. But even then, it was far more comforting than I could have possibly been. Once the child was calmed, she then turned towards me.

She stared at me for a bit, like she was assessing the situation.

After a moment, she spoke.

“Is it true that you can help them?”

“Yes. I can.”

At that, she moved away from the children and closer to me. The child that had sat beside me moved over to where the others were and watched the events unfold. She stood before me, looking deeply into my eyes.

“How?”

I gave her a smile and explained, quiet for only her to hear, “I know practically everything there is to know about helping ghosts move on. All I need to know is more about how you ended up this way and from there I can determine the proper technique to use.”

She gave me a curt nod, sat on her hind legs in front of me, and took a deep breath before she whispered, “Murder. They were all murdered by a man from this place.” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Are there any objects that they could potentially be attached to?”

“No, no. It’s just...them.”

I nodded and then gave her a smile. “Thank you. That’s all I need.” I stood up and slowly walked over to where the children sat. “Now the question is, who wants to go first?”

The hand of the first child I met popped up. I smiled and gave him a nod. “Ok then. Wait a moment while I get ready.”

For privacy purposes, I went to the father corner of the room, which was hidden by a table and some boxes of spare parts. As I took off my coat and began folding up my sleeves, I heard the faint whispers of goodbyes from the children. I sat down and waited for them to come over when they were ready. As they came over, I motioned for them to sit in front of me.

“May I take your hands?”

They gave me a small nod and put out their hands. I took them in mine, and positioned them where the child’s were on top.

“Are you ready?”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not at all. It’ll be like falling asleep.”

The child gave me another small nod.

“Now, close your eyes for me and just relax.”

Once I felt he was calm, I activated the wings tatoos on my back and directed the power to my hands. Soon the child started glowing faintly.

“What’s your name?”

“Jack.”

“Well, Jack, what do you want to do when you leave?”

“I want to go find my little sister. She got left on the playground alone and got scared. I was going to help her out.” His spirit started to dim slightly.

“You’re a very good big brother Jack, but I’m sure she’s home and safe now.”

“You mean it? She’s okay?”

“Absolutely. Now relax. Remember, like falling asleep.”

Jack took a deep breath in and as he exhaled, his spirit completely faded away into a small light. Using a small amount of power, I moved it towards me and sealed it into a bead on my holding charm. This would make it easy to transport their spirits outside, where they can be let go and carried away into the next place beyond.

After a moment to make sure his spirit was secure, I spoke out, “Who ever wants to go next can come over?”

And just like that the process repeated until all of them, besides the lavender spirit remained. (I later looked into a list of all of the children that went missing and matched the ones I met here to that list, which I will have at the end of this entry.)

I could tell she was practically besides herself with emotion, witnessing the children she’s cared for finally being freed from this place. She was completely silent and stared at the spot where they were all once huddled together.

“Are you ready?”

She paused and then spoke slowly. “Is there anything else you have to do now?”

“I have to take what’s left of the spirits outside so they can completely leave. But that can wait until you’ve been helped.”

She didn’t respond for a small time, then she turned to me. “Go ahead and take care of them. Then come back for me. I have something to show you.”

“Very well then.”

I picked up my coat and was putting it on when a thud came from the halls.

I looked to the spirit, only to find she had gone back to her lightning form and zapped into the wall.

I braced myself and quietly slipped out the door (which was left ajar) and peered into the hallway. While there was no sign of a physical presence, yet, I heard the sound of movement from the direction of the lobby. It was then brought to my awareness that spirits in the charm (which I had looped into my belt) were reacting in a manner of fear. As I quickly added another seal over the charm to keep them from accidentally slipping out, I began to think of a plan.

I had no means of defense if whatever was there was a physical threat and not supernatural. This meant that I would be in trouble if the encounter got confrontational. I would have to try to avoid that by all means necessary.

As I looked across the hall, into the room with the playground, I noticed a lavender glow, though I couldn’t see where it was coming from. After checking to make sure the hallway was empty, I quietly slipped in.

I was partially expecting to see the lavender spirit, however the source of the glow came from behind the hidden opening I had found earlier. When I went to look in, I saw that the door at the end had been opened.

He shouldn’t be able to get me in here.

An echo of a whisper, barely audible to the point where most people would ignore it, not realizing it wasn’t just a random thought in their head, but a memory of sorts. What they were hearing was someone’s thoughts and/or words right before their death. Echos rarely occur for no reason, mostly being triggered by a similar event or the presence of someone who was present before the spirit’s demise.

By the sound of it, she was being chased by someone.

I decided that it would be best to follow the echo, instead of risking getting caught by whatever was now here. I managed to squeeze into the opening and began shuffling towards the door. As I got to the end, I heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. I turned around and through the sliver of the opening, saw a tall figure, who was definitely not dead.

Come on sweetheart, it’s not safe back there!

I had nearly missed the faint voice of an adult male in my attempt to stay out of sight. As quietly as I possibly could, I opened the door a hair farther and slipped inside, shutting it behind me.

The passageway was barely 5 feet wide in total and had long thick wires running along the floor’s edges. The floor itself was about an inch or two below the level of the building. The light was only bright enough to illuminate the immediate area around the door.

However, before I could observe it more, it bolted down the hall, and I had to nearly sprint to keep up with it. Once I was about where the arcade would be, I noticed the amount of wires had nearly doubled. So much so at some points there were wires across the center which were torn from the amount of times they had been walked on.

The air itself became damp and there were a few times I could have sworn I saw moss. The farther along I went, the more I started to hear dripping from the roof.

Eventually the light came to a stop at a tiny opening that was at the corner of the building. From there on out, the passage was almost more of a crawl space. But here I could see where all the wires led to. There was a small chain of older power generators that was connected by various cords.

The arcade machines were powered by the generators which were connected to the main power system by vast amounts of wiring. Between the age of the generators, the leaks in the roof, and the constant treading on the wires, the place was almost beyond hazardous.

And it was at that, everything clicked.

Penelope!

I’ve got to hide.

It was then I saw the faint ripple of a figure in the light. It quickly moved into the crawl space. I was so focused on following the girl’s spirit, that I didn’t sense the pursuer until they were almost on me.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

I spun around and came face to face with the monster of this place, whom I had seen many photos of in my research.

“Mr. Stilmen. It's a pleasure to make your...” He cut me off with a growl.

“Don’t be smart with me. You’re trespassing on my property and you need to leave.” Before I could reply, he raised a gun and pointed it in my direction.

“I’m doing no such thing. The city gave me permission to investigate these grounds for activity.”

“What activity? The place is closed.”

“I understand that. I just was trying to look into the mysterious activity and the children that were murdered.”

He growled, “No kids died. They went missing!”

“No. They were killed, you can’t deny that to me now. I’ve seen enough.”

“Seen what? What could you have seen that would suggest that?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you were suffering from depression. Your wife did die from childbirth and not only that, you lost the baby too.”

“How-”

“It must have hurt you then. To see so many young children not pay heed to their mothers. I mean, technically, it was a child that took your wife away.

“The first time was probably an accident. That’s how it usually starts. But then you got carried away. And soon you had a lot of blood on your hands. Figuratively, of course. Not only that, but what were you going to do with the remains? Well you had to dump them of course. But I’m sure you know how that went.”

He gave a small chuckle before tightening his grip on the gun. “And how did you figure all of that out? Huh?” It was hardly there, but I caught the slight waver in his voice.

“I pity you Mr. Stilmen. You really are a man who is followed by misfortune. But that will never excuse you for what you did.”

“SHUT UP! That’s enough talking from you!” He screamed, pain laced in his voice. And then he pulled the trigger.

I braced myself for the hit, but instead a bolt of electricity struck the bullet and shocked his hand, making him drop the gun.

A lavender girl stood between us, small sparks coming from her hands. As soon as Stilmen looked at her, his face went pale.

“Y-you… you can’t be…” His eyes held a look of surprise as he moved a half step towards her, turning his head in an attempt to get a better view of her face. “Penelope?”

“Daddy…” she choked out. I didn’t need to see her face to know what she felt, her voice was full of pure grief. “Daddy…”

“Yes? Sweetheart, what is it? Whatever it is,” his words tumbled out, a faint shake in his voice.

“Daddy… please stop it.” Despite her originally trying to put on a brave face, she began to start sobbing. “I don’t want you... to hurt people... anymore. I just want you… to be… happy again.”

At her words, he broke falling to his knees with a sob. I then walked a bit closer to her, but to the side.

“You didn’t mean for her to know. But she eventually found out didn’t she?” I channeled my power into the air and space around me.

The echoed footsteps of a young girl running towards us soon played. It then turned to sloshing as she came closer from where the tunnel had a small layer of water. A faint figure of a girl came running into the area, and then stopped, breathing heavily. In her arms she held a robotic mouse close to her chest.She appeared terrified for her life. She then turned her head, as if hearing someone calling for her.

But instead, she slipped into the crawl space.

There was a sudden loud pop from the generators. And then...

A blood curdling scream. Loud enough to be heard from outside of the thin exterior walls.

As the vision faded, the man sat there in silence with nothing but pain and grief. He then choked out, “I couldn’t get to her fast enough. Once I got there...” He looked up from the ground to Penelope, who was now crying. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I promise.”

“All I want,” she whispered,” is for you to get better.”

“I’ll do it then. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll answer for my crimes,” he rambled.

Then she gave a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Stilmen went along with the police with full cooperation and as they were loading him in the car, I saw his face. His expression was that of pure relief, as well as sorrow as he looked back to the old amusement building.

Once everything was said and done, he was probably going to hand it over to Kingston for him to do with it as he wished. But before they drove him away, he had one wish.

“Dr. Anderson… Can you take care of Penelope for me?”

“It would be my honor. Don’t worry. She will be in safe hands.”

Afterwards, of course, the police wanted my full report; however, as you may know, I have a strict policy regarding the privacy of my patients so I gave them a very short statement.

“I found him as I was walking and I managed to talk him down.”

After a while, the police gave up on me and began to prepare to scout the building.

I asked the person in charge to allow me a few minutes inside to grab some things, so they would not be considered evidence accidentally, and while they were more than disgruntled about it, they gave me permission.

By that point, the sun was starting to rise, and even with the windows boarded, the building was a bit more illuminated.

I made my way back to the area with the generators, this time using the official door that was in the back wing, next to the maintenance room. When I arrived, I saw Penelope sitting on the ground.

“I was hoping you would come back in.” She looked up at me and gave me a small smile. “I’ve been thinking about...me… moving on.”

I smiled back towards her. “Yes. I was wondering about that myself. How do you feel?”

She hesitated, and then replied thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’m ready to go. But I can’t stay here. There is no reason to, and besides, they will probably tear the place down eventually. I don’t know where I want to go.”

“Hmm, well…” I hummed, pausing briefly. “You could come stay with me.”

Her face lit up instantly. “Really?”

“Yes, of course. There is always space in my home for more. And you won’t be the only ghost, or child, on the premises. Not to mention, if the need arises and if you wish to, you can travel with me sometimes for work.”

She sprung up to her feet in a jolt of lightning, laughing cheerfully as she zapped across the room.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes! Yes! I want to go with you!”

I chuckled as she ran up to me, returning her hug in earnest. “Now, means of getting you out of here.” I looked off to the side in thought.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t keep you in the charm, and it’s hard for a spirit to move on their own. It’s a lot more helpful when a spirit is connected to something, like a book or a tool.”

“Well… if it helps, I’ve been sleeping in something like that, but I don’t think I can move it.”

I instantly knew what she was talking about. Ghosts don’t exactly sleep, per say, but some of them need to rest in order to recharge their power. But if she was resting in something, that meant…

“What were you sleeping in?”

“Oh, it’s with... my body.”

“Alright then.” I pulled out my flashlight and set it on the dimmest mode. “Would you mind going back into it and exert a small amount of power through it? That will cause it to glow slightly.”

She nodded and then, turning back into a volt of electricity, she went down the wires into the crawlspace. Then there was a faint glow from just inside.

I used my flashlight to make sure I didn’t accidentally grab the wrong thing and began reaching for the glowing object. I tried not to focus on the mass that was next to it, and I managed to just grab it.

I could feel Penelope’s excited presence within it as I pulled it out. And once I brightened my light, I saw a small lavender mechanical mouse.

~Fin~

#original work #original story #Dr.Jaime Anderson #The Electrical Lavender Mouse #original character #TPRJoDJA #Mousie #Penelope Stilman

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starwrite-er · 4 years

Text

Kiiroibara - Tooru Oikawa x Reader (Hanahaki!AU)

AO3

Summary:

It’s bittersweet, seeing the guilt in his eyes.

I want him to love me the way I love him, and I know he would never wish this fate upon me. He’s a good friend, after all.

But my lungs are aching and I am dying, and a little part of me wishes he suffers the pain he’s caused me too.

❀

The sun is setting as I return home, and I find myself happy.

Bumping shoulders with one of my teammates - Hana Satou - we exchange gossip, the academic year still relatively new, offering fresh stories. It’s our last; we might as well spend it giggling.

The conversation flits from classes to classmates, from practice to rivals, from captain to captain.

“He’s pretty, but he’s so vain! Even if he’s good at what he does, I’m still surprised he landed captain,” Hana says. “You’re actually friends with him - you have to deal with his attitude all the time!”

“Nah, he’s kinda insufferable, but I love him really.” I laugh, punching my friend’s shoulder lightly. She snickers along with me, rolling her eyes.

I clear my throat. And then again. Hana glances at me, giving an odd look, so I make my final cough as dramatic as possible.

She laughs. I would too, but there’s something stuck to my tongue-

My blood runs cold.

“[Y/N]? You okay?”

My friend has stopped a few steps ahead of me, looking back with a concern-laced expression. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying desperately to keep myself from panicking.

I pluck the object from my mouth. I crack open my eyes. My bag thumps to the ground as I catch sight of the petal.

I follow soon after, falling hopelessly to my knees as I clutch the yellow petal, unable to tear my gaze away even as my vision blurs and I begin to hiccup. I’m vaguely aware of shoes pounding on the ground before arms wrap around me.

This makes no sense. I’ve never even considered that kind of attachment. How could this be happening?

I wail.

I don’t love him. I can’t love him. He’s one of my closest friends, I’ve never felt like that before. I can’t love him, I can’t-

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Hana stokes my hair, cooing empty reassurances to me as I cling to her, trying to drown out my inaudible ramblings with her own voice. There’s a tremor in her words. She’s crying too. She’s scared. “We can fix this. You’ll be okay.”

I acknowledge the hollow feeling in my chest, the nausea that claws its way up my throat.

“You’ll be okay.”

I almost want to laugh, hysterical.

“You’ll be okay.”

No, I won’t.

The yellow petal is crumpled in my grip, shadowy lines and creases marring its former beauty.

What the fuck it that supposed to symbolise anyway?

❀

I start to pick my words more carefully from that point onward. One petal was enough to send me spiralling, but maybe - just maybe - it was a fluke, a side-effect of me joking about loving him. If I refuse to believe I’ve been afflicted, maybe it won’t continue.

A voice in the back of my mind hisses at me, berating my naive hope. I ignore it.

It was right, though.

The second I lay eyes on that stupid mop of brown hair I feel a scratch in my throat. I try to stifle it, try to stuff the feeling away. It just makes it worse, and the petal comes spurting out my mouth anyway.

I conceal it before it’s noticed.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi raises a brow at me.

“Yeah, just think I’m coming down with a cold or something.”

A brief pause. “It’s late spring.”

I falter and shrug, playing the comment off. “Beats me. Must have allergies or something.”

That’s the end of the conversation.

❀

I feel Hana’s worried gaze burning holes in my blazer wherever I go.

I ignore her and the tickling in my throat. I don’t need her concern, I can handle myself. This isn’t a problem.

❀

It’s okay, I’ve decided. Uncomfortable, but okay. I really am fine. The initial breakdown when I realised what was happening to me was the worst part, the hardest hurdle to get over, but Hana was right. It is okay. I can handle a petal or two a day. This is liveable. I’ve adjusted over the past fortnight.

Yeah, I realise that’s a fucking lie when I see his stupid charming grin, playing the part for his admirers.

Smack.

I lose myself in the repetitive serve drills, tossing ball upon ball into the air and hitting them until my palm feels raw.

Smack.

They’re not the ones hacking up rose-filled lungs. Their infatuation means nothing. They haven’t truly been by his side over the years the way I have.

Smack.

God, then why does it hurt so much?

“[Y/N]-chan! I thought I heard someone in here-“

“Fuck off.” My words are so sharp, so cold, I myself am taken aback. I glance for a mere second at Oikawa in the doorway, finding him wearing an uncharacteristically surprised expression. I feel a seed of guilt needling at my conscious but don’t speak up.

The last volleyball bouncing to a still is the only sound in the gym as I take my leave.

❀

I stare at the petal caught between my fingers for a beat longer before shoving it away, out of sight and almost out of mind.

“Iwaizumi?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you know what yellow roses mean?”

He blinks at my strange question, a flicker of suspicion passing over his face. “No-“

“Why are you asking him? It’s not like he’s the one getting flowers.” I suck on my teeth at Oikawa’s interjection.

“Okay then, do you know what yellow roses mean?”

A pause. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nope.”

I glare at him. How is he the reason I’m-

No, thinking like that is no help.

“Stop being a prick.” Iwaizumi says with a swift smack to the back of Oikawa’s head.

“Ow!” The setter pouts, rubbing the back of his skull and shooting his childhood friend a look before turning his attention. “Why the sudden interest in flowers anyway, [Y/N]-chan?” I don’t answer, progressively getting more flustered as he leans into my personal space. It feels as though the closer his proximity, the more the rosebush in my lungs grows. His sly smile and lidded eyes don’t help. “Is there something we should know? A secret admirer, perhaps?”

I swallow thickly. “Something like that.”

I feel a burning in my chest. I can’t tell if it’s humiliation, unrequited love, or both.

Iwaizumi drags him away from me before I’m forced to elaborate. “Stop being weird, shittykawa.”

I take advantage of Oikawa’s moment of indignant distraction to cough up the rosebud in my throat.

❀

Beads of sweat tickle as they drip down my face, my eyes wide and heart pounding as the rally keeps going. We just need this one more point to win, but it’s turned into a seemingly never-ending stream of hits and call-outs.

The tone of the ball colliding changes. Wood rather than skin.

A painstaking beat passes.

The whistle blows and the scoreboard changes.

The Aobajohsai crowd erupts while our team is dragged into a happy huddle, victory firmly within our grasp. Grins and laughter accompany the congratulatory slaps on each others’ backs.

I struggle to catch my breath, smiling despite my aching lungs.

I glance around the gymnasium, feeling a pang of pity for the opposing team but a rush of pride surges through my veins as I see my schoolmates in the stand waving, beaming at us.

Next to them is the Aobajohsai boys volleyball team, and amongst them is a far too recognisable figure.

Catching sight of him, it feels like the roots have woven through my ribs and suddenly constricted, winding me, forcing the corolla from my deteriorating lungs.

My ears ring as I splutter, knees hitting the floor painfully. I grab at my shirt as if it’ll provide me any relief, tears spilling over and mingling with sweat as I heave. I’m barely aware of the panic surrounding me, my teammates yelling for help as someone slams my back to try and help dislodge the floral arrangement in my throat.

A vaguely conscious voice in the back of my mind notes how terrible yellow and red look against white and blue.

...Red?

For the first time, the yellow rose petals scattered around me are flecked with blood, staining my pristine uniform where they touch.

It offers a vile, unwanted moment of clarity.

It’s almost too late.

As I gasp for air, lightheaded, I begin to sob, clinging to myself as all the eyes in the room watch me.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to- it’s gross and-“

“How long?” The coach cuts me off. She sounds angry, but her eyes betray her fear.

“A few months-“

“Since the beginning of the academic year.” Hana cuts in. Tears mar her face. She clings to me, but I feel her hands trembling.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” The coach sounds furious.

“How could I?” I cry out. “I- I’m dy- I’m-“ I swallow thickly, dropping that attempted sentence. My words sound meek, foul on my tongue. “I can’t be in lo- I can’t. I’m not-“

“Who is it?” I glance up at the firm voice. The tremble in it is almost unnoticeable, but Iwaizumi’s fists are clenched and I know he’s trying so hard to hold it together. Guilt needles at my heart for causing those closest to me such grief.

Beside him is the root of the problem, disbelief written across his face.

I feel the corners of my mouth curl downwards.

“It doesn’t matter.” Every syllable is bitter, laced with resentment.

“Yes, it does!” Oikawa snaps. “Stop acting like you’re above us and either talk to them or cut the flowers out-“

He shuts up at the sound of my dry, sardonic laugh.

“Don’t,” I say. “Just, don’t. I don’t want to hear it from you.”

More of my tears spill over, and for those that heard me, it seems to click.

Iwaizumi sighs, closing his eyes. Oikawa is frozen in place. Hana tugs my arm lightly, a weak attempt to pull me away from the staring contest I’ve initiated with the man I’m apparently in love with.

“That’s why you were asking about yellow roses a while back,” Iwaizumi mutters. “I should’ve known-“

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I interrupt his self-berating. A strange calm has come over me now that my secret is finally out for all to see, in the form of a bloodied flower on the floor nonetheless. “Seriously. It’s my problem, not yours.”

Nobody wants to accept that, but there’s a helpless second of silence. It’s hard to argue when there’s no clearcut solution.

“What did they mean?”

I blink.

“What?”

“The flowers,” Oikawa’s voice is quite, but his gaze is unwavering. “What did they mean?”

A new wave of tears spring to my eyes. I try to wipe them away nonchalantly, as if speaking to him isn’t causing me immense pain. “Depends. According to Japanese tradition, they mean jealousy, which... well, it’s not entirely inaccurate,” I shrug, feeling as though I’m confessing my sins. I always did wish I was as fine a setter as he is. “But in the west, yellow roses mean friendship and devotion.”

It’s bittersweet, seeing the guilt in his eyes.

I want him to love me the way I love him, and I know he would never wish this fate upon me. He’s a good friend, after all.

But my lungs are aching and I am dying, and a little part of me wishes he suffers the pain he’s caused me too.

❀

My condition accelerates after that unspoken rejection. Over the coming weeks I find everyone’s eyes seemingly following me wherever I go, hushed whispers of pity and fear accompanying their gaze. There’s always a bloody tissue in my pocket. There’s always thorns scratching at my throat.

I’m kept under near constant surveillance. Everyone begs me to have the plant removed.

Nothing changes. He still doesn’t love me, even if I’ve accepted I love him.

At first my denial kept me from taking that course of action, but now I think I just don’t care enough anymore.

It’s an interesting way to go, at least. A tragedy, of course, but still not the norm. I find a vague comfort in this.

People will remember me.

❀

I’m so, so tired of the pity I’m constantly presented with.

More than ever, I don’t want it now. Not when his silence speaks volumes.

He swallows thickly. “I’m-“ He inhales deeply, steeling his nerves I assume. It’s not like him to appear this... weak. “I’m sorry.”

I stare at him blankly. He stares back. If he’s expecting an answer - which he presumably is - he doesn’t show it.

I shrug.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is-“ There’s an edge to his voice and he catches himself. “If I just did something, you wouldn’t be-“

“You don’t love me, and that’s not your fault. It’s not your fault I love you, either. We can’t change it.” My interjection is soft-spoken, reassuring.

But my jaw is clenched. I shouldn’t be the one comforting him right now.

He swallows his words again, tears welling up and spilling over and I almost roll my eyes.

Then he gently takes my hands in his and squeezes them, and with a pang in my core I recognise his sincerity. Years of unconditional friendship doesn’t just vanish, and assuming he’s just trying to clear his conscious before I go is a stupid thought. I of all people should know his motives better than that. Guilt nestles itself amidst the thorn bush woven into my chest.

Ignoring it is easier though.

Acknowledging it just makes things hurt.

❀

I’m alone when it happens.

I cling to my poetic end when I realise this is where I coughed up the first petal. Unlike then, there is no one to comfort me, to assure me things will be okay. I pushed everyone away in a vain attempt to protect myself from the inevitable, and devotion only goes so far.

It’s better this way. Less traumatic. Nobody’s memory of me needs to be marred by the image of petals, blood, and bile spilling from my lips, my face fading from red to purple as I struggle to breath, eyes bloodshot and weeping. My knees and palms scrape against the concrete, nails clawing at my throat.

The acrid taste pervades my senses - stomach acid burning my mouth and the metallic tang of my own blood staining my tongue. It’s vile, it’s bitter, and it hurts, and it’s exactly how I feel about this situation, about my final moments. It’s not fair.

My vision is patchy, darkening, a vignette cast over a golden world.

The sun is setting as I struggle to recover, and I find myself resentful.

#hi yeah quick question when tf was the line break option removed #god i havent posted on tumblr in eons lmao i p much only stick to ao3 nowadays #my work #hanahaki!au #haikyuu #oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa x reader #reader insert #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader

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lo-55 · 3 years

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Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 3

The Rift

Ichigo wonders, more often than not, why it is that even though he can see ghosts, he never sees the ones he wants to. His mother, and now his friends from Chaldea. He can’t see them anymore. The singularities are gone, and humanity has returned to the way it always was. But it’s missing so many people, from his own point of view. Olga Marie isn’t bound to him anymore. She’s moved on. And the rest…

Ichigo sits in front of his mother's grave with his dad at his side. Karin and Yuzu have gone for drinks, leaving them alone for the time being. Rukia, and Kon too, sit on a hill, watching over them and waiting for trouble. He doesn’t want to admit it. He’s carried the guilt in his heart for so long, but now… it’s possible that Rukia is right. That the reason his mother is dead is because…

“Hey, old man,” Ichigo looks towards his dad, who’s been acting weird since he’s come back. More than once he’s caught him just staring. Like he’s trying to figure out what changed his kid so much. As if they were ever that close in the first place. Ichigo let’s him. There’s no way for him to understand what’s changed Ichigo into the person he is now. It’s not something that can be easily explained, and in any case the Mage's Association was pretty clear. No one is supposed to know that magic exists. Including his own family. Anyone who finds out must be killed.

“Yeah?” Isshin looks his way, away from the grave that reads his mother's name.

“About mom. Could she ever see ghosts, do you know?” he looked right at him. Testing Isshin, watching his eyes. He’d never noticed before…

That his dad was hiding behind a dozen walls. And they all started to come up when Ichigo asked his question. Ichigo has spent years with master assassins and traitorous knights. He can see clearly now, for the first time ever. His dad isn’t such a colossal goof off after all.

“Why are you asking this all of a sudden?” he asks and it hurts . It hurts more than Ichigo thought, to know that he was keeping this secret for so long. To know that he could have told him, that both of them could have told him when he was young and he couldn't tell who was alive and who was dead, that he wasn’t alone in it. Karin had always had him, and they’d learned together after their mom had died, who was real and who was not.

Why? Why had they hid these things from him? And could he trust their dad to tell them the truth now?

“... No reason. I was just thinking about her.”

No, he decides, looking back at the headstone. He can’t trust his old man to tell him the truth. So, he’ll have to learn it some other way.

Sometimes, Isshin looks as his son and he sees a complete stranger.

He’s still brash and angry, and he would die for Yuzu and Karin, might have while Isshin wasn’t looking, but he’s not himself. He isn’t the same son that had climbed onto a plane for what should have been a simple job months ago. He’d only been gone for a week. How could he have changed so much?

He was taller, for one thing, and yeah teenagers have growth spurts but they don’t grow three inches in seven days. Their hair doesn’t grow out in a week either, and they don’t get so strong or so self assured that fast.

More than that, his son has this look in his eyes…

A terrible age, even though he’s only fifteen. He looks at them like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. He looks like he’s always waiting for something. For something to go wrong, for the other shoe to drop.

Even before Rukia had shown up and given her powers over to him, and then started living in his son’s closet of all places, he’d been the same. On edge. And the way he’d greeted them…

Ichigo did a lot of things when Isshin attacked him. Hugging him wasn’t one of them.

On top of all that, he’d gone to see Kisuke, to ask what was going on in the spirit world, where he could no longer see, and it turns out that Kisuke agrees. There’s something strange about Ichigo. He’s stronger than he should be, and stronger than he ever was, even without Rukia. And he doesn’t know what exactly happened between Kisuke and Ichigo, but it’s enough that now the old captain is interested in him.

It’s not nearly as comforting as Isshin wishes it was. When Kisuke got involved, things rarely went well. No matter how good his intentions were.

Then he asked about Masaki, and Isshin had faltered.

It was time, it was the perfect time for him to tell him the truth. To sit him down and explain what had happened all those years ago, and tell him about the kind of heritage he had, and what it might mean. He’s wondered, whose power did he get? Isshin, or Masaki. Shinigami, or Quincy? Or both? Or hollow? It’s hard to tell.

But he chickened out. The words got stuck and the world closed off and Ichigo turned away from him. The moment was lost, and now Isshin doesn’t know what to do. It’s so much easier raising daughters than sons.

* *

By the time his ridiculous duel with Uryu is over, Ichigo is willing to bet money that his mother was a Quincy.

Ichigo ends up sitting on a bench, breathing fast but he’s not so exhausted nor so beat up as Ishida, who sits patiently while Ichigo carefully stitches up his arm. It’s easy enough to pass this particular skill off as one he learned from his father and not knee deep in a war, trying to help Roman with the dozens of injured Chaldea staff.

“Isn’t your dad a doctor? Wouldn’t it be better to have him do than let me?” Ichigo finds himself asking They’re lucky Uryu had a needle and thread on his person, even if they did have to bend the needle in an awkward, sloppy approximation of the ones used for real stitches.

It’ll do for now.

“It’s best if my father doesn’t know about this,” he says simply.

“Oh yeah?” Ichigo grins at him. “I take it that means he doesn’t want you doing this kind of stuff then.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Uryu sniffed at him stubbornly. Ichigo glowers at him, and pulls the next stitch harder until Uryu yelps. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Of course it’s my business. This whole stunt that you pulled was insanely dangerous.”

“Are you admitting that you’re weaker than I am,” Uryu lifts his chin, his nose in the air, and Ichigo has to stop himself from karate chopping him in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m weaker or not! What matters is that we’re not the only people in town that you could have gotten killed with this stunt! Didn’t you notice? There’s hollows that disappeared that neither one of us took out.”

He snaps the thread and grabs Uryu by the front of his shirt, watching his blue eyes go wide and realization dawn for what is apparently the first time. “That means other people are fighting. Other people might be dying. My sister has high spirit levels too you know?! When you pull shit like this you’re putting the lives of everyone around you into the same danger, without even telling them about it! How can someone with top grades be so damn stupid?!”

Ichigo forces himself to lean back, anger still bubbling under his skin. All this trouble because Uryu hates shinigami, and Ichigo isn’t even a real one.

“ Listen ,” he leans in , forcing Uryu to bend backwards over the back of the bench, “I’ll fight you one on one any time you want. But this hollow fighting isn’t a game. And if you ever put other people in danger unnecessarily again, I’ll beat your goddamn face in.”

“Y-you!” Uryu pushes against his chest but Ichigo is immobile, stone and still.

“Do you understand, Uryu Ishida?”

“I. Yes,” he says at last, looking down and away. Only then does Ichigo let him go, leaning back and letting out a grunt when it pulls at his shoulders. He’d over strained himself, just a little bit.

“Hey, Kon!” Ichigo waves his body snatcher over to the pair. “Gimme my body back already, huh?”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Kon whines, but he sits on the bench and lets Ichigo slide back in without a fuss. Ichigo pulls Uryu up off of the bench and gives him a shove.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”

“I don’t need you to do that!”

“Well I’m doing it anyways. You’re injured, what if there’s still a few more hollows lingering around, huh? Just shut up and start walking.”

Uryu scowls, but starts walking forwards anyhow, with Ichigo in his shadow. During his whole trauma speech and background story Ichigo’s mind had been turning over and over. His dad was a quincy too, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and if Uryu was to be believed, they were the last of them.

Goat-face isn’t going to answer his questions, so Ichigo follows Uryu home, to a house that far too big for just two men alone. He feels old, walking into it. It’s fanciful, but he’s seen the theatres of Rome and the courts of King Arthur.

Ichigo will never be a sensor, but he’s gotten used to trusting the sense inside him that says when someone else is around, and even though it took him a while he’s good enough to be able to follow it if he has to. He didn’t know about the spirit ribbons. Ichigo is used to being clueless, but he’s not stupid. He files the information away for later, and quietly memorizes that feeling of Uryu. It’s more like a taste, clean and sharp, and vaguely like citrus.

His father is much the same. And he is utterly unimpressed by Ichigo arriving on his doorstep with his son in tow.

His eyes are colder than ice, not exactly something Ichigo would want in any doctor he has.

“Hey, old man,” Ichigo raised a hand and, with his usual level of tact, asked ever-so-discreetly, “Did you know my mom?”

* * *

“Do you know where you are?”

The scent of roses and daffodils and the feeling of soft worn wool brushing against his cheek. A ribbon made of magic brushing his nose.

Ichigo opens his eyes and looks into a pale blue sky, wisps of cotton candy clouds stretching across from one horizon to the next.

“I am in a dream,” he says dutifully.

“Very good Dolores.”

Ichigo punches him in the stomach, sending the mage doubled over in a fit of coughing and laughing together. A smile that’s far too mischevious to be soft is aimed at him.

“You have an amazon prime subscription out here?” Ichigo asked, sitting up slowly. The tower still floats, through the sky at the end of the world.

“Well yes. I do run a blog, you know?” though it’s said with a straight face he can see a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, where even eternal youth hasn’t been able to curb laugh lines. He’s good humor, and a good company.

“Seriously?!”

That gets a laugh out of the mage of all mages. He lays back in the flowers that climb and bloom, thriving in his very presence. He is life and light and mischief, a watcher and a strange sort of guardian.

“Well yes. I can’t spend all of my time merely watching people. The internet made things much more fun! Humans are such innovative creatures, even without magic to help them along.”

Ichigo nodded along with him. “Does that mean that you can email me instead of hijacking my beauty sleep?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t enjoy my company, oh great Master of Humanity?”

Ichigo scowls at him, but there’s a smile trying to pull at his mouth. He struggles to squash it, and he can tell from the glint in his companions eyes that he fails.

“Stop calling me that,” he says for a millionth time.

A firm hand pushes him back into the flowers, under the warmth of the sun in the soft crush of fragrant petals. There’s no perfume that could ever compare. This is a strange place, a beautiful cage, and Ichigo doesn’t fully understand how he can be here and home at the same time. Not that that’s new. He’s been in two places at once more times than he cares to count, and he still only vaguely understands how it’s possible.

“I understand that your life is interesting once more.” The mage stretches out beside him, taller than he and cloaked elegantly in his same old robes. He’s showy and modest at once and it hurts Ichigo’s eyes to look at him for long.

Ichigo groans. “If you mean my entire existence is one giant clusterfuck then yeah. It’s real ‘interesting’ again. But I’m not time travelling again yet so…”

“Poor little master. Your life is so very hard…”

“I’ll hit you,” Ichigo threatened. “Master mage, but a shit fighter. I can take you.”

The laugh that he is granted is bells on the wind.

“True, true. But I believe that things will get worse before they get better. Perhaps you should begin your mage craft training once more.”

“You know I always sucked at that. I could only use real magic if I had a mystic code. Every other time, it exploded in my face. I’m a secondrate mage, that’s how it’s always been,” he says it all simply.

“That is true… Isn’t it funny how that works out? A boy who cannot cast a single spell without assistance ends up defeating the most powerful mage in history. You really are a remarkable human, Ichigo.”

“And you’re trying to get me to do something for you, aren’t you?”

“Aha! You do know me! Yes, I need you to mail something very important to me…”

“You get mail here?!”

* * * *

It’s the tenth time he’s been thrown into the dirt today.

A normal person would have given up and packed it in. A normal person would have humbly accepted that the strength of these titans was beyond their abilities to keep up with.

Instead, Ichigo stands again.

He picks up his borrowed practice sword, dulled so no one can get hurt, and faces his opponent once more.

Mash, Cu, and Medusa, his constant companions, watch him narrow his eyes and plant his feet again.

“One more time, Nero!”

“He’s stubborn, if nothing else,” Medusa mused, not quite out of his earshot. Cu nods his agreement, his eyes never wavering.

“Tha’ll help him,” he said simply. Ichigo didn’t know why but his accent seemed to change just a little each time he opened his mouth. Sometimes he was barely understandable. Sometimes it is perfect english. Or whatever language the magic was auto-translating it to. Japanese for Ichigo, english for Mash, and probably latin for Nero and the surrounding soldiers.

“ ‘He’ can still hear you!” He glared halfheartedly at the pair of Servants, who looked perfectly innocent. The longer he was around them, the more familiar he was with the small changes in disposition and expression, their likes and dislikes. And, to his eternal surprise, the feeling of them.

Cu Cullain felt like trees. Like thick moss on a stone, and early morning mist rolling through thick, ageless trees. His presence was as familiar as an old, trusted hound. They’d only been together for a few months, but his spellwork and the steady draw of his mana felt as natural as breathing to him.

Medusa was the deep ocean, power beneath every surface but beautiful to behold. A crash of waves against the stony shore, her every touch fleeting and feather light while her chains lashed with horror and the chthonic strength born in the age of gods. She was the smooth brush of scales against his wrist, the flash of teeth behind a sweet smile, and gold eyes in the darkness that Ichigo alone did not flinch from.

Theirs was a tenuous relationship. She kept looking for him to stab her back, to cut her head and use it as his weapon. Ichigo was still half expecting to wake up as a statue one day. They only had the barest trust between them but…

She hasn’t let him down yet, and Ichigo endeavours to repay that much if he can.

He raises his sword and barely blocks a vicious strike from Nero. She was shorter than him by far, but he had no chance matching her for raw strength. Or speed. Or her damn near perfect swordplay.

“Focus on the performance at hand,” she orders, her mouth curved in a strange smile. Ichigo didn’t totally understand her. They’d been travelling with her for over a month now, on the way to reach what would one day be london.

“Right,” Ichigo lunges for her, his strikes quick and hard. He’s not worried about hurting her since he can’t even hit her.

It’s graceful, elegant, and nearly effortless for her to knock him flat on his ass again, smacking the flat of her blade against his chest so hard he sees spots. He’s left sucking desperately. His nails bite into the dirt and his grip on his sword tightens until the leather wrapped around the hilt creaks.

“That’s enough for today, I think,” Nero decides. Ichigo wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any breath for it. So he groans like a dying whale and lays in the dirt, his hands shaking, his body refusing to move at all.

Nero lowers herself to the ground, on her knees beside him and how strange is that? A goddamn emperor kneeling with him in the dirt. A demi-goddess, and a druid, and a demi-servant. And Ichigo, just human. But Nero is human too. She’s as alive as he is and she is wiping the fucking floor with him.

“You’re a - fuck,” he wheezes and finally gets his elbows under him so he can sit up.

“Now that’s very rude to say, considering that I’ve been training you out of the goodness of my own heart,” Nero sniffs at him, tilting her chin to the sky.

Why did Ichigo always get stuck with these kinds of bewildering people? Everyone he knew was so weird…

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Nero.” A perfectionist and slave driver, but Ichigo was getting better every day. By the time they reached their destination, maybe he’d even be able to land a single blow per bout. Ichigo had never expected to get along with a roman emperor of all people, but even outside of fighting Ichigo has always been, if only mildly, interested in the arts, and Nero only stokes those embers.

Nero smiles beatifically at him. “You have the makings of a fine performer. Even without an Imperial Privilege. I enjoy teaching you.”

Her smile is interrupted by a pinch of her brows and purse of her lips.

Ah, another headache.

It’s very strange, trying to reconcile the young woman in front of Ichigo with the tyrant from history. She’s put her people ahead of her at every turn, and helped Ichigo and his friends. She’s under no obligation to teach Ichigo swordplay but she does, even after long days on the march.

At the same time, there’s a reason Boudica is only her reluctant ally. Nero cared for her people but she was, in another word, a merciless bitch when she put her mind to it. But she was on their side, for now, and Ichigo is learning not to look gift horses in the mouth. So he gets up and goes to her side, and shows her how to press her fingers into pressure points on the back of her neck, and hold it for a few seconds until the headache goes away.

He’s made an archduke for that one.

* * * * *

A rift forms in the Kurosaki household.

It’s always been there, a cut stitches tenuously together by blood and loyalty, and reinforced by love, but now it’s split.

A gaping chasm, and Ichigo doesn’t know what to do with it.

It feels like it’s not something he can bridge. Like this is one obstacle that even he cannot conquer. Master of Chaldea, Final Beacon for Humanity. Commander of Heroes, Beloved, the First Guardian.

He is a hundred things but at the end of the day he is still.

A teenager.

Fifteen and eighteen and four thousand at once.

His dad had lied to him. If not directly, then by omission. For years, for so very long he’d let Ichigo hold the responsibility of Masaki’s life in his hands, had kept quiet when he grew frightened and dark and closed off from the living, so preoccupied was he with the dead.

Never once did he offer reason. Never once did he show his care or cradle his son, or tell him that the monsters were real and it wasn’t his fault .

Not once, in six, seven, eight, nine years did he tell Ichigo that he was not alone. That he and Karin were merely Masaki’s children. That they were born of quincy blood, even if that never put a bow in their hands.

Half the blood means half the power,” That was what Ryuuken had said. And how sad is it that Ichigo had had to hunt down a veritable stranger, once who’s son had spent the entire day bickering and competing and hating his guts, to get answers from?

“ Does my old man know all of this?” Ichigo had asked.

Ryuuken was honest, even if he didn’t want to get into the tangled web of family drama. “Yes,” He’d said, “ But it’s more complicated than that. Isshin has the entire story.”

And he wouldn’t tell Ichigo.

He didn’t tell him on the bloody banks of the river, when a child wandered in desperate hope of finding a phantom of his mother.

He did not tell a ten year old at the foot of a grave marker. He kept silent at eleven, at twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

Fifteen. Under the watching grave of his mother Ichigo had asked. And Isshin had not told.

The house is tense like it hasn’t been since Ichigo got back. It’s tense like a storm, cracking along the edges of the walls and windows. Tense like there’s no coming back from this and Ichigo cannot take the building static in his veins or the hissing of betrayal in his ears, like snakes.

He misses Medusa, suddenly. She would take his pound of flesh for him and then some.

Ichigo go knows, for certain, that if he stays in this house he’ll go mad. Yuzu and Karin, they know something is up. Ichigo’s pretty sure Karin saw the hollow, Grand Fisher, at the grave site. Dead now by his blade, but the vengeance tastes like ash on his tongue. His mother is still dead. His father is still a liar.

His sisters still love them both.

Ichigo loves them, too. More than anything in the world, he fought gods and demons for their sake. For them to be born for them to have a future.

But he can’t spend all of his time at home, and Chad is starting to ask questions that Ichigo has a difficult time answering.

Not ‘was that a demon ghost you just punched in the face’ hard. That answer is ease. ‘Yes’.

But ‘is everything alright at home’ hard. Chad had asked the first time he saw Isshin launch himself at his son in a surprise attack and he’s about to ask it again, Ichigo can feel it in his bones.

So he makes a phone call.

The rest of the world will never know what they did.

The world will not know about him or Mash or Roman or Olga Marie, or the countless others that built Chealdea and kept her running. They’ll never know how much they fought, how much they bled, how much they sacrificed for the sake of the future.

It’s fine with him.

But there are some who know. The Mage's Association, and the United Nations. And a select few people from the Clock Tower in London, where Ichigo has already been offered schooling and job. They know that he stopped the incineration of humanity.

And they owe him.

Three years of pay for working in Chaldeas, and even more for everything else he’d done.

He finds a backpack while he waits for a familiar voice to answer.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” There's a shuffle of sheets and a groan in the background and Ichigo barely pays it any mind as he stuffs a hoodie into his bag and goes looking for his running shoes.

“Not a clue,” he said blandly. “But listen, Waver. I need a favor.”

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #well sorta #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach/fate grand order #olga marie animusphere

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abigailnussbaum · 4 years

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How to do Garak/Bashir in Canon DS9

Yesterday there was a fun tweet asking people how they would remake DS9 if they were given the option today.

Which led to some fun discussions (you can see my answers here). Obviously one thing that pretty much everyone said was “canon Garak/Bashir”. That’s generally considered one of the show’s big missed opportunities, with both Andrew J. Robinson and some of the show’s producers expressing regret over never having gone there. But it did get me thinking: how would you tell this sort of story? Because look, it’s one thing to write Garak/Bashir in fanfic, filling in gaps in the canon or changing the entire tone of the story to suit your ‘ship. But if you’re retelling DS9 along basically the same lines - the end of the Cardassian occupation, the discovery of the wormhole, the Jem’hadar, the Dominion, the war with Cardassia - and with the personalities of the characters and the tone of the show largely unchanged, how do you fit Garak/Bashir into that story?

There are some obvious issues with trying to work this ship into the show’s story and overall tone. For one thing, Bashir is a Starfleet officer. We like to make fun of his early, annoying incarnation, but even in that form he is clearly a decent, principled man with strong values. It’s one thing to flirt (literally or figuratively) with a mysterious, sexy spy, but getting into a relationship with him would not only be stupid, it would run counter to Bashir’s image of himself. You could go in a dark direction with this - Garak seduces Bashir purely as a way of gaining power over him (and perhaps out of force of habit); maybe they end up in a kind of Hannibal/Will relationship. But that doesn’t seem sustainable in the long-term, or congruent with the type of show DS9 was. Bashir can’t trust Garak, and Garak has done things that Bashir would consider disgusting. That’s something you have to take into consideration if you want to write them as a long-term couple.

It’s also worth considering that, as much as the Garak/Bashir pairing lingers over the fannish perception of the show, it’s not actually that prominent in the series itself. The last episode that I would call a Garak/Bashir story, “Our Man Bashir”, is an early S4 episode, well before the Dominion War happens. And Garak is absent for a lot of the later developments in Bashir’s life - “Doctor Bashir, I Presume” (you’d think Garak, with his complicated relationship with his father, would have something to say about Julian having been illegally genetically enhanced by his parents) or “Statistical Probabilities” (a troupe of savants who claim to be able to predict the course of the war would surely be of interest to Garak). In most of these stories, Bashir is accompanied by O’Brien, a much safer option as far as suppressed sexual tension is concerned (it should go without saying that this feels like a deliberate choice on the show’s part, to undermine any idea of a Garak/Bashir relationship). Meanwhile, Bashir is absent from most of Garak’s important Dominion War stories - his relationship with Ziyal and her death, his position in Damar’s rebellion, “In the Pale Moonlight”. So if you’re going to retell DS9 with Garak/Bashir as a real ship, you'd have to rewrite a lot of these stories to take that into account.

Finally, you’ve got the show’s ending, which is an extremely dark one for Garak, who gets everything he thought he wanted - his position restored, a place of honor in Cardassian society - just at the point where Cardassia is decimated and, in his words, left dead. Working a romance with Bashir into this ending would be tricky, and risks ending up with the final scenes of Man of Steel - two people making out atop a mass grave.

(Obviously, I’m taking it as a given that this hypothetical version of DS9 is much, much better at writing mature, complicated romantic relationships than the real one. Most actual DS9 romance was painfully juvenile, and the one exception, Sisko/Kasidy, was also an extremely low-drama ship - Sisko literally sent Kasidy to jail and the next time they met they were like “so, that was a bit of a bump in the road; dinner later?” It should go without saying that Garak/Bashir would not be a low-drama ship, so the writing would need to be there to support it.)

Anyway, complicated but obviously not impossible. This is what I’ve come up with for how I would rewrite the show with Garak/Bashir as an ongoing couple. I’m sure there’s plenty of fanfic with other, better ideas.

To start with, lose the claustrophobia business. Or, you know, keep it, but the reason Garak was expelled from the Obsidian Order and banished from Cardassia is that he’s gay. (To be fair, I feel like “claustrophobia” was pretty clearly code even in the original show.) A lot of people in the upper echelons of the Cardassian hierarchy know this - Dukat certainly knows - and miss no opportunity to harass him about it.

Obviously, in this version of the show Cardassia is deeply queerphobic. I don’t think this is a huge leap. Cardassian society is deeply conformist, and family-oriented in a fascist-adjacent sort of way that prioritizes the father as the master of the home. It’s hard to imagine a society like that tolerating deviations from gender norms, and it seems fair to assume that reprecussions for such deviations would be severe.

Garak doesn’t actually have a problem with this - or at least, not that he expresses. Garak’s defining trait is that he believes in, and loves, Cardassia deeply, and espouses its chauvinistic (in both senses of the word) values to anyone who will listen. But at the same time, he’s smart enough (and enough of an outsider) to know how hollow and destructive those values really are. So Garak will explain to anyone who challenges him on it that Cardassian homophobia is right and proper, while knowing that he has fallen victim to it himself.

Bashir is out. Though “out” might not be the right word because the Federation is so nonchalant about queerness that the notion of being closeted doesn’t really exist anymore (this is a version of Star Trek where we actually follow through on the promise of a more progressive future). But at any rate, to Bashir and the other Starfleet characters, him being gay is so unremarkable that it doesn’t even come up until his and Garak’s frienship is already established. This deeply shocks Garak - he knew humans were perverted, but the good Doctor, his friend? Bashir, meanwhile, wastes no opportunity to needle Garak about his society’s barbaric homophobia (Garak: “humans may be prone to such... urges, but Cardassians are made of finer stuff”; Bashir: *rolls eyes so hard he can see the back of his head*). But at the same time, and without being entirely willing to admit it to himself, Garak is intrigued.

And so we continue for about five seasons. Garak flirts with Bashir, partly because he thinks this is a way of unsettling the good Doctor, but really because he wants him. Bashir assumes that it’s all an act, and plays along with it a little because, hey, sexy spy. But he never imagines that it could go somewhere real, and probably wouldn’t follow through if it did.

And then Bashir gets replaced with a Changeling (this is a version of DS9 where that idea was seeded throughout the first half of the fifth season instead of being decided on five minutes before “In Purgatory’s Shadow” started shooting). And the changeling takes one look at Garak, sees an obvious in, and seduces him. Which clearly causes some awkwardness when Garak finds the real Bashir in a Dominion prison camp.

Bashir finds out. Worf tells him (this is a version of Worf who isn’t weirdly sexist and judgmental about other people’s sex lives). (Bashir: “why is Garak being so weird around me?”; Worf: “he and the fake you were doing it”; Bashir: “what”; Worf: “they were boning”; Bashir: “WHAT”; Worf: “they were engaging in sexual intercourse”; Bashir: “that's not possible. Garak only flirts with me to keep me on my toes”; Worf: *shrugs* “if that’s what you want to call it”.)

So now Bashir is upset because he’s spent the last five years bugging Garak about Cardassian homophobia and it turns out that Garak was a victim of it, plus he’s now been victimized by someone wearing Bashir’s face. And Garak is upset because he let his attraction to Bashir (Garak: “my base lust!”) blind him to the fact that his friend had been replaced by a changeling, leading to him being comromised as an agent (I will leave it as an exercise to the readers which one bothers him more). And, well, if you can’t get from there to romance on your own, you may not have read enough fanfic in your life.

Then you get the war, and honestly, I don’t know. You could do an on/off thing. You could make it a very casual relationship in between the two of them trying not to die and/or lose the Alpha Quadrant to the Dominion. You could have Bashir say “fuck it, I might die tomorrow and this guy makes me happy; who cares if my boyfriend is a liar and a murderer”. You could even go the Worf/Jadzia route and have them muse romantically about having a life together after the war. But either way, they spend more time around each other than they did in the original series.

But! When Garak goes back to Cardassia to help Damar’s rebellion, there’s a lot of tension between them, because Damar heard from Dukat that Garak is a pervert (you could still keep Ziyal’s death and Garak’s anger at Damar over it; those two always made more sense as friends anyway). And then it turns out that there’s an entire Cardassian queer underground, and in typical Cardassian fashion they’ve turned it into a whole spy network with operatives at every level of government. (Garak: “why did you never approach me?”; queer Cardassian underground: “dude, have you met you?”) And they’re willing to work with Damar if he promises that in the new Cardassia, they will no longer be persecuted (I think this dovetails pretty nicely with Garak’s observation that Damar needs to be disillusioned about the flaws of Cardassian society). So all of a sudden Garak is looking at a future where what he is doesn’t make him a pariah anymore.

And then you get to the destruction of Cardassia, and, again, I’m not sure how that combines with Garak/Bashir. The entire ending of DS9 is pretty rough on romantic pairings in general, but at least when Kira/Odo and Sisko/Kasidy break up, it’s bittersweet, and in service of other new beginnings. Garak’s ending is just bleak, and I’m not sure how you deal with a romance on top of that. The best I can come up with is Bashir saying “yes, this is horrible, but you can rebuild, and if you need my help with that, I’m not far”, leaving a door open for them to reconnect in the future.

Thoughts?

#deep space nine #garak/bashir #this got long

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abloomntime · 3 years

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A Bloom In Time Ch2 Idea Forming

Subcon Forest was not a place for just anyone to enter and exit as they please. There was a reason these woods had such a feared reputation and was rumored to be haunted. Because it was. By the King Snatcher of Subcon(as he liked to refer to himself) and his ghastly assortment of minions and dwellers behind him as his undead army, anyone who went in NEVER came out which added to the entire fightfulness of it all!!...Well no one except two little giggling girls who were currently playing with toys and crayons. The dark sky and dead trees twisted with dangerous vines as the sun dared not shine here. If that won't convince you to stay away then maybe the giant chunk of the forest that always so dangerously cold will? Or perhaps the section that's always burning bright with enchanted flames? Or maybe the ghostly king who claimed trespassers' souls as his own or the rumor of a powerful witch? Either way, whatever helps to keep tresspassers out he was all for it. But he had no real responsibilities today. The brats could wonder around his woods as long as they didn't go near the frozen half or Vanessa, or they could go exploring on any other part of the planet for all he cared. As long as they were both back home and in bed by six he was fine with it. Right now he was sitting down enjoying his book of dark tales and legends as he relaxed in his home. The old book in his claws as glowing yellow eyes scanned over the story unfolding from it's yellow pages.

Down in the world unknown there laid a kingdom drab and dark. Where darkness and shadows collided and lived in fear and power. One would be mad to even think about stepping in a place like this. Where the dead are gone but still there, the shadows played and roamed and full of terror. A frightful place brace heros dare not venture unless they wish to meet a tragic fate. Yes. This one place was alone ruled by a power hungry spirit, spited by his love in life and now seeks vengeance on any mortal who dared be foolish enough to be beckoned into his awaiting claws-

SQUEAK!!

.....Snatcher slowly looked up from his book with a small frown. The small express owl plush slowly slid off his face and fell onto his lap with another small squeaky toy sound and he stared down at the little girl who threw it at him and frowning back up at the ghost, and he rolled his yellow eyes. The book in his claws closed and placed down as he gave the girl what she obviously wanted, his attention.

"What is it kiddo? You know it's rude to throw things at people and interrupt someone reading. I thought I taught you two better than that."

"Can you fix it?" She walked up to the edge of his chair and stood on her tiptoes, poking her head over the chair and placing her hands on his lap.

"Fix what?"

She pointed to the toy in his lap and he blinked down at it. A noticeable tear in it's backside was present to him. He rose a brow further before looking back to the small girl by the chair. Bow had come up to join her and now both were peeking over the chair at him, and he sighed picking up said toy with a squeak. "You couldn't fix the toy yourself?"

Both shook their heads before Hattie spoke back up, "You said we weren't aloud to touch any needles, and we don't know how to sew anything."

He still stared at them for a moment before he sighed and forced his floating body up and over to his bookshelf in the corner and the small sewing kit on top of it. It was soon in his hands and the girls climbed onto the giant chair to have a better look at the floating sewing kit and the ghost who started repairing the small toy in his claws. The needle floating easily through the soft fabric of the toy as the floating needle pulled the thread through the tear, before he flicked a clawed finger and pulled the thread tight and the hole was closed up and tied in a tight knot to secure it in place. As he turned back around with the newly fixed toy in his hand, he snapped with his free hand and the kit immediately put itself away as he floated back over and handed the toy back to the two which was grabbed by Bow. They thanked the enormous undead creature by hugging his hand and jumping off said chair. Running out the doorway and laughing their heads off as the two chased each other around. He sighed...a rare small smile coming over his face before he settled back down into the comfy chair. Kids. So full of energy and laughter. Now where was he? OH YES!! With another snap the book went back to it's master's awaiting claws and opened at his own leisure. Now let's pick up where he left off shall we?

The old dusty book crinkled in his hands when he turned the page and began reading the page he left off at. He always enjoyed reading, it helped pass the time and it was one thing he could do now more than ever now that he had no real responsibilities....He glanced back out side real quick where the girls were currently sitting on the ground and using a large mushroom near the ground as a table for them to draw their pictures on and be surrounded by their small toys. Hattie absolutely LOVED exploring and running and jumping from building and trees with her weird alien powers, something about the world she was from having denser gravity and her kind used to space traveling and having to travel in a similar situation on land. But Bow could do similar things but in a less energetic way....When asked Hattie proudly stated she taught her everything, but the smaller curly haired girl preferred to just draw and play with toys rather than adventure. It was kinda cute the way they'd just compromised about what to do everyday. But kids will be kids. With a small smile on his face and book in hands he looked back to the book.

The creature of vengeance was known as one of promises and dealings. Whether If one were to want something most dear to their heart and was determined and pure, or if their heart was filled with greed, envy, and lust he would grant your reply if you were brave or stupid enough to find him. It was when one day a child from a nearby village heard of this rumor that they were excited to find out if it was true or not. Against their parents and everyone else's wishes and warnings, the small child had snuck out to venture into the forbidden dark woods. The brambles scraped and left cuts on their body, the creatures chased after and threatened to eat them if they didn't turn back now, for darker and more sinister things slept in these woods, but bravely the child went on. On and on on their journey to really see this sinister ghost who granted wishes and promises that the mortal eye would repulse to believe. Until the sinister avenger had been found and the massive shadow beckoned the child closer with a boney rigged hand.

"You have traveled far and withstood the tests my forces forwarded. For that you have earned the right to one miracle granted to you. But a warning you have also earned. Be warned, with a pure and honest heart comes great rewards. With a heart who bleeds nothing but black with greed and jealousy, a foul end you shall meet. Think about the consequences greatly, for the repercussions shall be swift and tight. Think well, dear child."

The small child dared to smile at the creature and simply reply, "I have no need for any treasures or anything of preciousness near me. I solely only wished for to see myself if the avenger of shadows was a true sight. And now that I have seen you for what a true being you are, I will simply be leaving satisfied my wish was fulfilled."

The answer of the child amused the ancient spirit and he chuckled his hollow laugh at the very notion of it all.

"Wise answer to an otherwise difficult mortal choice. For that you shall still be granted a prize for your efforts. Name one and answer wisely."

The small child as said had no need for such items like treasure and fortune, but they knew that the child's hard working mother were in need of some fortune in her life. So with a kind heart, the child looked to the spirit and asked for their miracle. "My mother works oh so hard to take care of me. It would be so nice for her to have just a little more luck on her side. Oh spirit, let me repay her for all her kindness she has shown me."

"Your wish shall be granted. A selfless act is always it's own reward, but be wary of those who wish to use those fortunes to their own will."

The child was permitted a safe leave back to their home and as promised their selfless act of kindness was granted by the spirit of shadows. The child and their mother mysteriously found an old box in their pantry one day that they had never known of before and upon opening it discovered many, many priceless jewels. The likes of which they had never seen before. With this new found fortune, the mother and child were able to gain a plentiful farm with all the necessities they needed to have a plentiful life. Farther down in the years the mother even remarried one of the strongest most handsome men in the small village. But this man was nothing but green with want, and treated the mother and her child terribly-

SQUEAK!!

....He looked up again with a frown when another plush toy hit the side of his head. This time it was a Mafia man that fell down to rest in his open book and he looked at the two girls staring up at him again and sighed. "Ok. What now?"

Bow pointed to the toy. "The arm is falling off. Can you fix it please?"

He frowned down at both of them as they innocently stared back and he groaned. Beckoning a finger to the sewing kit on the shelf before putting down the book and picking up the second toy, and true to Bow's word, there was a tear in the left arm threatening to let the whole arm fall off if it wasn't fixed. The kit flew over to him and out came the same needle and thread, and again the same process repeated as he grumpily started sewing the small toy's arm back into place. Within two minutes it was as good as new and handed back to the excited little girls, and the kit back into it's own place.

"Here. But next time, don't throw it at my face ok?...And let me know you want something fixed before you interrupt me, it's so rude."

Both girls giggled and again ran back off as he groaned and repicked up his book from his noodle lap, and started reading again.

He was lazy, rude, and had a heart full of greed. Seeping of those who had better and helping him in life. But one fateful day everything changed. For one day he asked the child's mother a question.

"My dear wife. You know I love you dearly, but I must ask you. Where did you receive such wealth and fortune."

"Why, from a old wooden box in the pantry," she replied happily, "And inside the little wooden chest was gems and riches beyond our wildest dreams."

"Yes, yes! But where did it come from?"

"I know not how it got there or where it came from, but my child and I are oh so happy to have received such a delightful fortune. How we may live happily for a long while."

Her husband was displeased with such an answer and once again asked but this time to the child. The child happily told the man his venture into the woods and his encounter with the spirit of shadows, filling the man's heart with more greed. That very night when the family slept, the man snuck out and made his own way into the deep woods of shadows and fears. Brambles cut his clothing, he cursed those who dare chase him and snap at his hinds as he ran, but the greed and lust in his heart was strong. So strong he persisted his heart green with envy. Alas finally he arrived and looking as though some creature had mangled him with their claws. The spirit was beckoning him closer with a bony rigged hand and spoke.

"Oh one who's heart is sewn with greed and plight. You have sought me through danger and fright. Your actions of greed are inexcusable but like many before you have made it through the path of darkness. For that you have earned the right to one miracle, but also a warning. Be warned, with a pure and honest heart comes great rewards. With a heart who bleeds nothing but black with greed and jealousy, a foul end you shall meet. Think about the consequences greatly, for the repercussions shall be swift and tight. Oh one who comes to me with a black heart for his own wishes. I offer this to you so you may choose your wish wisely."

The man paid no attention to the wise words of the ghost nor did he think about any real consequences for his actions as he spoke what he oh so desired.

"Give me more riches than any man shall have!! Make my fortune one who will make me a fortunate man!! A bright castle and beautiful jewels is what I seek and most desire!!"

"A answer I foresaw and one your shall have for not heeding my warnings. Oh man of greed and selfishness, you shall indeed have your wish awaiting you home. But do not be surprised when your unfortunate fate you shall unevitably meet. Now be gone creature of greed. My domain is not fit for one of you."

The man left for his home and once his got there his had his miracle in the form of the purest black horse with a magnificent couch of ebony, inside the couch was boxes and jewels of every imagining. The man cared not for his wife or the young child that he had left behind, away in this marvelous new couch he received and off that horrid man went into the night with his shouts of greedy glee and pleasure as his family long forgotten. The mother and child awoken to no greedy man plaguing their lives and while the mother was quite saddened, she still had the child to watch after. As luck and fortune does benefit those with kind hearts, another man the mother sought and a kinder gentler man she got. With as much kindness to her and her child this man gave to combat the sorrows left behind by the other greed filled one. One day a message they did receive, about a much bigger estate of land and riches. The greedy man who had once left them behind without a second thought, was now no more as the spirits warnings he did not heed. As fate had decided he would be no more, a swift and tight end he did get. Leaving everything he valued behind of jewels and gold, to no man but a woman he did not care for. His wife and next of kin did receive, fame and fortune for kindness indeed. With kindness in their hearts the family did grow, and with it came all luck and fortune soon to glow.

For those with kind hearts and bright minds, often find themselves on the favorite end of fate's hands.

The old ghost hummed before turning the page of the book to read the next legend or dark tales of the book. It had plenty and so far this one had been the one with the most happiness in it. It was called The Spirit of Fortune and Fate. An oldie but goodie in his mind, he faintly remembered it from when he was younger, who knew someone would remember it enough after all this time to make a book with it, but I digress. He began to read the next legend-

SQUEAK!!

Something was thrown onto his lap and he looked down blinking to see a small cat plush on his lap, it's black fur and yellow eyes staring up at him and it looked a lot like those Nyakuza cats from the city....he rose a brow at it before moving the book and seeing the two cute children smiling up at him again. He groaned and picked up the toy...It didn't look damaged and he looked back to them with a raised brow or what could be considered an eyebrow on a ghost.

"What did I say about throwing toys at me? And what exactly do you want me to fix? " He turned the toy over in his claws. Seams were tight, no holes or tears, and it wasn't in no way word. It still had it's glow in the dark eyes painted on too. "There's no damage." The curly haired child held up a bow and he looked at it. "And? What's that for?"

"I can't get the bow around her neck to stay on, and it keeps looking wrinkled. Can you fix it please?"

Bow was always the more likely one of the two to use things like 'please' and her slightly higher voice made it cuter. He hated(loved it but would never admit it) it and groaned, taking the small bow from Bow and wrapping the long thin end of his tail around the cat toy's body to hold it still while his hands worked. He wasn't wasting magic energy on this, this time. But one downfall of not having knees he guessed. "You couldn't have done this yourself? I thought your name was Bow, kid?"

"That's the name everyone gave me because no one knew mine. Like how Hattie's....Hattie?"

"...I guess you got me there." His claws worked wonders in getting the small bow to stay and at least looked decent in his opinion. He guessed it must've looked good enough to the girls too because when his tail unwrapped around it, Bow gasped and held her arms out as it dropped into the child's awaiting arms and she giggled as the pretty pink bowed cat blankly stared back at her and he repicked up his book again. "There you go, now go play and let me have my peace-"

"Whatcha reading, BFF?" The ever mischevious Hated child reached her hands up and leaned against the chair to make grabby motions towards the book in his hands to which he pulled away and scowled.

"A grown up book you're not allowed to read."

"Why?," she asked climbing onto his chair and crawling into his lap.

He held it higher in one hand. "Because I said so."

SQUEAK!!

The toy was thrown back into his lap and Bow jumped up and latched a hold of the chair cushion, and was helped pull up the rest of the way by Hattie. "Why?," Bow asked as soon as she was sitting in his lap too regrabbing her toy in her arms, "What's it called?" Both were straining their necks up at the book in his hands and he growled. Not in a threatening way, in a way like an older brother would if their little siblings kept bothering him.

"It's Dark and Scary Legends and Stories by Ivanna Gitta Bat. And it's stories are too scary for you two." Their response was to giggle at him like regular children. He was a giant ghost and they played in a haunted forest of swamps with hands, fire spirits, dwellers, and a man trapped in the moon. Hattie had fought him and won, and had faced off against multiple enemies and other threats. How scary could his stories be?.....In a word. VERY. These stories had tales of old MEAN ghosts and gruesome fates, which was putting it lightly, and not fit for two seven year old kids. They couldn't even sleep without their space unicorn nightlight. So with a snap of his hand the book flew and hid itself in the tall shelf of books as the girls 'awwww'-ed in disappointment. "I mean it. NO!!...And what did I tell you two about throwing things at me?"

"You said not to throw it at your face. We threw Mr. Night-" Bow held up the cat teddy. "-at your lap."

Loopholes. They always used them. He sighed and leaned back into his chair while reaching up to rub his face. "Don't you kids have like a minion to play hide and seek with or toys you left outside to play with? You could at least learn how to tie a simple bow to keep yourselves entertained."

"But you fixed them. Don't you wanna play with us?"

He moved two clawed fingers to peer at the girls between them. "Not right now. You'll never understand being...endless aging kids, but grown ups sometimes want their own alone time. Like how you two like to have separate adventures, besides couldn't you just use those time pieces to rewind the damage or som-"

"NO!!" Both jumped at the sudden and loud tone the kid used and she scowled up at the lightly startled ghost. "I can't use them like that!! That's not how they work at all!"

....He blinked before leaning his head in one hand and frowning, "Then elighten me please. After all I-....I don't think you even told me how they work. Besides them keeping you,...you." He pointed to the fact that she was still permanently stuck as a kid. Not that he was complaining. More company for eternity right?

But she just shrugged. "I dunno exactly. I just know that you can't use them without something bad happening most of the time, that's why they're locked up."

"Wait. I thought you could use them."

She shook her head again. "Only reverse what they do, why do you think I use them to power my ship?" She stood in his lap and gave a salute. "The S.S. KIDDO!!" Then her form paused...and she looked down. "They also cut into the user's past and makes them go crazy with that kind of stuff. Like the evil witch in your story." That got a chuckle out of them....and it also made a lot of sense for the affects. He knew when he found one, he went full on crazy with the desire to keep them all. The power of something like THAT under his claws and more than one was appealing to him- "They kinda work like wishing stars." He snapped out of his rambling and blinked down at the little girl who plopped herself back down in her lap and blinked up at him. "Like how I made a wish on a shooting star last week for a whole plate of cookies and Cooking Cat gave me some for a surprise!! And Mustache wished to make all bad guys disappear and it gave her crazy powers to blast them away like in Timmy's video games." She scowled. "She's still a big meanie."

He huffed and smiled a bit....but paused at what she just said. '....Wished to make all bad guys disappear....' '....Gave her powers to blast them away...' How many times had he wished for a certain person to disappear? To get lost? How many times had he wished to never be able to see her again or even risk her being so close? All the trauma and bad memories and all the hurt Vanessa had ever caused could just...be whisked away. POOF!! Like it never even happened....WHY HADN'T HE EVER THOUGHT OF THIS SOONER!? Well, to be far he did have one or two little distractions that kept him on his toes-...Er. Tail so to speak. He slowly looked back to her with much greater interest now.

"Well that's just the cat....But what exactly do you mean they 'work like shooting stars'? You mean that they grant wishes like genies or something?"

She tilted her head confused and blinked. " I don't know what a genie is, but sorta? They make a alternate timeline that has your wants and collides in into your own timeline to make it happen. Why do you think I had to fix all those time rifts?"

.....He blinked, "So you know about time and alternate timelines but you don't know how to tie a bow?" She shrugged again and he sighed..before pausing...."You said they could make anything happen?"

She shrugged not paying attention now as she leaned back into his cool but soft body and pulled off her hat, reaching inside and pulling out a chocolate chip cookie and sticking it into her mouth. "I gueff so." She mumbled with her moth full. "But I don't mike dem mwilke dat."

"Don't eat with your mouth full," he mumbled have paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, or more specifically on SOMEONE. ...Have you ever wished someone would disappear? Yes. And the answer might be right in front of him-

"Snatcher?"

He hummed and looked down to Bow who tugged on his lowered arm. "Can you tell us a story? Please?"

.....He sighed. "Alright. Ill uh..Tell you the one I just finished reading, but after this I wanna be left alone for a little bit." Both girls snuggled down into his sides and he groaned again. This would be a while. "*AHEM* Down in the world unknown there laid a kingdom drab and dark. Where darkness and shadows collided and lived in fear and power. One would be mad to even think about stepping in a place like this-" Hat Kid raised her hand. ".....Yes?"

"What does 'drab' mean?"

He groaned. Yep. Gonna be a looooong day today.

#a hat in time snatcher #snatcher x florist #flowercrown #a hat in time florist #The Florist #florist #snatcher #A Hat In Time #a bloom in time

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jeonggukkiepabo · 4 years

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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.

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